She was sure it was. But even if it weren't it was none of her business; she was only interested in the time the now elderly man had been married to Sonia Harrison. 'I wish you would see—'
'Oh, I do, Miss Howard,' he assured her coldly, turning that icy gaze on his son once more. 'I have yet to hear a reasonable explanation from you,' he prompted hardly.
A flush darkened the young boy's cheeks, the expression in his eyes more reckless than ever. 'I thought you should meet Cat,' he shrugged. 'Talk to her. And then maybe she would get lost.'
'She was waiting in my bed for me!' his father snapped disgustedly.
Cat paled. 'I wasn't waiting for you!' She turned glittering eyes on Luke Steele. 'How did I get into your father's bed?' she demanded to know., too angry to mince her words.
'How should I—'
'Don't lie,' she warned with controlled fury, 'The last thing I remember about last night was telling you I was leaving.'
He returned her gaze unblinkingly. 'And the last time I saw you you were on your way out.'
'That's a lie—'
'I don't lie, Cat,' he dismissed in a bored voice.
He was lying now, and she had a fair idea why; his father's anger was formidable, even to this self-confident young man. 'Luke, can't you see you're just making matters worse?' she encouraged. 'You know very well I didn't get as far as leaving the party last night.'
'I know it now,' he nodded.
She gave a frustrated sigh. 'If you're worried about your father's anger then surely you realise he's going to be twice as furious if you don't tell him the truth now?'
Luke gave a harsh laugh, glancing slyly at his father. 'I'm not in the least concerned about Dad's anger,' he scorned. 'What can he do, stop my allowance, throw me out?' He gave a derisive snort.
Caleb looked unmoved by his son's disgraceful behaviour. 'So you aren't telling the truth?' he pounced.
'I didn't say that,' his son drawled dismissively. 'I just don't want Miss Howard to get the impression I'm frightened of you.'
'Aren't you?' his father threatened softly.
Luke blinked, disconcerted for a moment, and then the defiance was hack in those restless eyes. 'If that's all?' he derided, 'I'm meeting some friends this morning.'
'Go,' his father dismissed wearily.
With a malicious smile in Cat's direction he did so. Cat disliked him even more than she had yesterday, and with more reason! And yet something about his behaviour struck a chord in her memory.
'They say it's tough being the child of a well-known father,' Caleb Steele mused hardly. 'No one mentions how difficult it is being the father of that child!' He gave a ragged sigh, straightening his shoulders with fresh determination. 'And don't quote me on that,' he rasped warningly.
'I'm not the type—'
'To "kiss and tell"?' he finished scornfully. 'All women are that type, reporters especially so,' he bit out harshly. 'It's a pity you haven't actually experienced my lovemaking so that you can give me a rating as a lover; publicity like that could be very beneficial to my social life!'
From what she had heard his social life didn't need any boosting, women falling over themselves to go out with him! And he obviously held every one of them in contempt for finding him attractive.
'I think you should concentrate on straightening out your son rather than worrying about your social life,' she told him tartly.
He became suddenly still. 'What did you say?'
Steel cloaked in velvet again. She was coming to know some of the facets of this man's personality, and right now he was furiously angry at her for daring to interfere between him and his son. But she had finally realised what it was about Luke that was so familiar, recognised it and feared it. 'At the moment your son could go either way,' she spoke with quiet intensity, 'He's teetering on the edge of falling down into that abyss of depravity that will totally destroy him, or coming to his senses and carrying on with his life.'
Caleb Steele scowled. 'What the hell are you talking about?' he demanded impatiently.
She gave a ragged sigh, desperate to make him understand how near his son was to losing all reason. 'Luke is going through a trauma of some kind,' she explained, 'and the only way he knows how to deal with it is by going from one deed of recklessness to another. Last night—'
'Let's forget last night,' he rasped. 'There appear to be two schools of thought concerning that.'
She nodded. 'And you naturally choose to believe your son,' she said without rancour.
'Naturally,' he drawled harshly, watching her with narrowed eyes.
Cat shrugged acceptance of his loyalty. 'One of these days your son is going to do something that's going to hurt someone else very badly, and then it's going to be too late to help him.'
'You speak as if from experience,' he probed slowly.
She knew the nightmare of waking up every morning with only feelings of despair, of knowing the day would only get worse not better, of feeling that way and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. Luke Steele showed signs of that inner trapped feeling she had carried about with her for over a year, she had seen it there in his eyes when he momentarily let down his guard. She didn't like him, or the things he was doing, but she understood him. Which was surely more than his father did!
'Believe me, Mr Steele,' she ignored the question in his tone, 'if you don't soon stop Luke it could be too late. He's very angry at the world right now and—'
His mouth twisted. 'I thought you didn't know my son very well,' he taunted.
'I don't,' Cat shook her head. 'And I don't want to know him any better either,' she added with feeling. 'But even I can recognise a wounded animal's cry for help.'
Colour darkened his cheeks. 'And I can't, hm?'
'Maybe you're too close to him,' she sighed.
'Or not close enough?' he mocked hardly.
'Maybe,' she acknowledged reluctantly.
His mouth thinned. 'I've never professed to be the perfect father,' he grated. 'Luke and I have lived apart too much for that. But I don't need some damned amateur coming along offering advice,' he glared at her.
'I'm only trying to help—'
'Then don't!'
'No,' she accepted heavily. 'He's your son, you probably know him better than I do.' Although she hadn't been wrong about the utter despair she had briefly glimpsed in Luke Steele's eyes!
'I wonder why that smacks of condescension?' Caleb derided hardly.
A blush darkened her cheeks. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean '
'You meant exactly what you said, and how you said it.' He glanced impatiently at his slender wrist-watch. 'Could you hurry up and get dressed?' he urged. 'I'll drop you off at your home on my way out.'
'That won't be necessary,' she refused abruptly.
'It's very necessary.' He gave a humourless quirk of his mouth. 'This time I intend to see you personally escorted off the premises. Just so that there are no mistakes, you understand?' he taunted. 'And I'm afraid that now you won't have time for breakfast before you leave.'
Cat fled to the bathroom, the mention of food once again making her feel ill.
She felt as conspicuous as she thought she would as she travelled to her home in the green evening dress, grateful it was a Sunday and still early enough for there not to be too many people about as Caleb Steele halted the black Porsche outside the Victorian house she shared with Vikki.
Black eyes narrowed on the old but well-maintained house. 'You live alone?'
She shook her head. 'With Vikki, an old school-friend. It was her parents' house before they died,' she explained, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about how two young women managed to pay the rent on such a house in London, too! He had altogether too bad an opinion of her already, without assuming she was a 'kept woman'! Or worse!
'No father nearby, no brother,' he murmured thoughtfully. 'And no live-in lover.'
'That doesn't make me unusual, Mr Steele,' she snapped.
'I'm well aware of that,'
he drawled pointedly.
Colour darkened her cheeks. 'Then why the surprise?'
Black eyes turned on her sharply, pinning her to the spot, 'I'm not surprised, Cat,' he bit out. 'I'm just wondering who the hell Harry is!'
CHAPTER THREE
Who was Harry? It was a very long time since anyone had asked her that, since anyone had needed to ask. Harry had been a fixture in her life for so long that to see one without the other had been cause for speculation. Had been. Harry was gone now.
'Who told you about Harry?' She frowned at Caleb Steele.
He pulled a face. 'Sufficient to say I know about him. So who is he?'
Cat wasn't satisfied with his answer. How did he know about Harry? This man hadn't even realised who she was until his son had told him, so how did he just know about Harry? 'You just said you knew about him,' she returned guardedly.
His mouth thinned. 'The only thing I know is that you cuddled into me last night and called me Harry!' he rasped.
Cat stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, her face crumpling in despair as she saw by his steady, unblinking gaze that he told the truth. 'I'm sorry,' she buried her face in her hands. 'How awful for you… I'm so sorry,' she choked again.
'Hey,' a gentle voice finally cajoled, lean fingers gently caressing her damp cheek. 'I've been called worse,' he mocked.
Somehow that didn't help, the tears falling all the harder. That she had shared a bed with this man was bad enough, that she had mistaken him for her beloved Harry when she did so was unacceptable.
'Who is he. Cat?' Caleb Steele prompted in a voice that brooked no further delay.
'Was,' she corrected forcefully, her lashes spiky and damp as she looked at him with pained eyes. 'He's dead,' she explained abruptly at his raised brows.
Black eyes narrowed now. 'How long ago?'
'Five years.' She swallowed down the tears. 'He was—killed, the day—the day of our wedding,' she revealed haltingly, knowing this man would persist until he knew it all. And didn't he have that right when she had called him the other man's name! 'It was a beautiful summer's day, the most wonderful day of my life, I thought. But when I arrived at the church my mother told the driver to keep circling, that Harry hadn't arrived yet. I knew there had been a mistake, that Harry wouldn't let me down. I—he was already dead, both he and his best man. Their car went straight under a lorry. They said he was killed outright‘'
'Cat, if the police said he was killed instantly then that was what happened,' he cut in firmly.
'They said he felt no pain.' Heir eyes were dark and tortured. 'How can they know that?' Her voice was shrill. 'I have nightmares about it, that he was lying there in that twisted hulk of metal that was all that was left of his car, knowing his life's blood was seeping out of him.' Her gaze flew to the harsh face of the man next to her. 'Do you think that he did? Do you think—'
'Cat,' Caleb spoke with cold calm. 'Would it make you feel better to know that he died screaming in agony?'
She gasped at the deliberate cruelty in his voice, and then a tortured breath left her body. 'Thank you,' she squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. 'No one has ever spoken that—frankly, before,' she admitted shakily.
'Probably because you've never confided your fears to anyone before.' His dark gaze searched her face. 'Have you?' he prompted.
'No.' It had been easier to talk to a stranger, to someone who wouldn't just offer words of comfort that didn't really mean much because they were only said to make her feel better and not because they were true. 'I don't know why I called you Harry last night—'
'I do,' he bit out harshly. 'You're still in love with him.'
Her head went back as she sensed criticisms her unruly hair long down her spine. 'I'm not ashamed of that,' she defended. 'I've always loved him.'
'But he's—'
'Dead,' she finished harshly. 'Yes, I know. Gods how I know,' she added bitterly. 'But death doesn't bring an end to love, not the sort of love I had for Harry.'
'It shouldn't stop your life either,' he told her softly.
'My life hasn't ended,' she told him as one weary of hearing the same advice too many times.
'I work, I have a social life, friends. I even enjoy my life again.' She frowned as she made this admission, knowing that that was exactly what it was, that for over a year after Harry's death she had lived in a state of shock, that when she had finally accepted his death she had had what amounted to a minor nervous breakdown. Then had come the rebuilding of her life so that she could go on. It had been painful and difficult, but she had done it.
And now she was revealing her inner feelings to a man who had believed she would do anything to get a story, including ambushing a man in his own bed! It was the sort of situation she and Harry would have found very amusing in a situation comedy, but when it happened in real life, and to her, it was no longer funny.
'Please talk to your son again,' she requested earnestly. 'I don't care what he said, he isn't telling you the truth about last night.'
Caleb Steele stiffened, the gentle companion of a short time ago completely gone. 'My son doesn't lie to me, Miss Howard,' he rasped.
'Neither do I!' she defended instantly.
His mouth twisted. 'It's unimportant who lied,' he dismissed in a bored voice.
'Not to me it isn't,' she frowned. 'I still want to talk to you about meeting your father.'
He stiffened. 'I don't give interviews. And neither does my father!'
'I don't exactly want to do an interview as such—'
'Just probe into his marriage to my mother,' he bit out. 'Look in the books written about that time, Miss Howard, it's all in there!'
'It couldn't hurt just to talk to him—'
'Doesn't the fact that she died thirty years ago and my father has never remarried tell you that he still loves her?' he snapped. 'That the memory of her, talking about her, still hurts? You, of all people, should understand that,' he accused.
Cat paled. 'I'm sorry.' She gave a confused shake of her head. 'I never thought…' God, thirty years and Lucien Steele still hungered for the love he had lost! Would she still feel the desolation of Harry's loss in thirty years? God, it was like a black shadow shrouding her life!
'A reporter's natural instinct,' Caleb Steele derided. 'They never think of the harm or pain they cause, only of the effect the story will have!'
'I'm not like that—'
'Of course you aren't.' His contemptuous expression belied his words.
It was useless arguing with a man who had such a biased opinion of her. If she left it a few days and then contacted him again maybe he would be more receptive. Although she doubted it!
'Thank you for driving me home, Mr Steele,' she said with a politeness that was inborn in her. 'Even though I realise you had the ulterior motive of seeing me out of your home,' politeness couldn't prevent her adding mockingly. 'Perhaps I could call you and—no,' she grimaced at the look he gave her beneath frowning brows.
'We've said it all,' he agreed drily.
Cat got out of the car, standing on the pavement to watch as he drove away before realising how conspicuous she must look standing here in broad daylight wearing an evening dress at ten o'clock in the morning!
'I won't ask,' Vikki's eyes widened as a harassed-looking Cat hurried into the house. 'I'll get us some coffee—and then I'll ask,' she announced cheerfully. 'There's some hot water if you want a bath first,' she added brightly, the fact that they were always in short supply of hot water of constant annoyance to them both.
Cat knew her gaze was evasive, 'I've already had a shower,' she muttered.
Her friend's eyes widened even more, and she seemed about to launch into those questions now, before clamping her lips together with tremendous effort. 'A change of clothes then,' she amended. 'And I'll get the coffee.'
She needed more than a change of clothes to calm her shattered nerves, sitting down on her bed in the bedroom next to Vikki's. The house had four bedrooms in al
l, but the two women preferred it to be just the two of them.
She and Harry hadn't looked at anyone else from the time they were fifteen and realised they were in love. Always and totally together, Harry had given her a ring when she was seventeen, and they had spent the next two years saving and planning for the life they were going to have together.
Harry had been so handsome, golden-haired, blue-eyed, with a wicked sense of humour that had matched her own. They had been like two parts of a whole, gently teasing each other about the colour eyes their children would have when Cat's were so deep a green and Harry's were so startling a blue; they had no doubt they would be beautiful golden-haired babies when they were both so fair.
Both being only nineteen when they decided to get married a lot of people had still considered them to be only babies themselves. But there had been no doubts in either of their minds that marriage was right for them, both of their families supporting their decision wholeheartedly.
Harry was always a passionate and eager lover, but with a control that had often frustrated her he had refused to make love to her completely, had claimed that he wanted their wedding night to be something they would both remember. Much as it pained her to do so, her reaction to Harry's caresses always instantaneous, she had accepted that decision, although just a few days before the wedding they had almost forgotten that resolve in a blaze of pre-wedding passion.
God, how many times had she wished that she and Harry had made love that night, that she had at least belonged to him completely just once!
The thought that it might have been Caleb Steele that she gave that night to, filled her with distress and shame, burying her face in her hands as she wished she could remember what had happened between them last night. But it was all a blank. And she didn't know if she could accept Caleb Steele's casual dismissal of intimacy; men just didn't get into bed and sleep next to a woman who was a complete stranger to them! Not in her world they didn't. But Caleb said her world wasn't real. She didn't know what was real and what wasn't any more.
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