Burning Inheritance

by Anne Mather

  Alex's response was to suck in his breath and turn away and, congratulating herself on her success, Isabel turned to attend to the boiling kettle. Even the fact that her hands were trembling now, and she had to dodge several scalding splashes of water, couldn't prevent her feeling of victory. If only she could keep this up, she need never fear the Setons again.

  When she carried the tray into the living-room, Alex had resumed his position on the sofa. It meant that if she sat beside him, she would be uncomfortably close to his lean body, and in consequence she was forced to take the easy chair opposite. It meant that she was obliged to look at him instead of away from him, but there wasn't any alternative.

  The glass-topped table between the chairs provided a suitable place to set the tray, and for the first few minutes she could direct her attention to pouring the coffee. But when that was done, and Alex's cup pushed towards him—to avoid unnecessary contact—she couldn't go on evading his gaze.

  'You—er—you know Jason?' she remarked, with what she hoped was casual interest, and Alex inclined his head.

  'Slightly,' he conceded tersely.

  Isabel's tongue touched her upper lip. 'He's a good photographer.'

  'I'm sure.'

  'I've worked for him for the past eighteen months.'

  'Really.'

  'Yes.' Isabel relaxed a little. This was going to be easier than she had thought. If she could only sustain this rather one-sided conversation until Alex had drunk his coffee, there would be no further reason for him to stay. 'We did a shoot in Scotland a couple of weeks ago. Oh—but, of course, you know that. It—er—it was fun. The weather wasn't very good, of course, but we spent the weekend in this old castle------'

  'Why, Isabel?'

  Alex's weary interruption momentarily silenced her, but then, licking her lips, she said innocently, 'Why what?'

  'Why this charade?' he demanded, ignoring the coffee. Moving to the edge of the couch, he spread his legs, his hands linked loosely between. 'Who are you trying to hurt? Robert? Chris?' He paused. 'Me?'

  Isabel caught her breath. 'You flatter yourself!'

  'Do I?' He regarded her narrowly. 'What is it they say about a woman scorned?'

  'A woman scorned?' Isabel knew another surge of fury at his arrogance. The adrenalin was rushing through her blood, and she badly wanted to give in to its insistence and order him out of the apartment. But, somehow, she managed to quell her upheaval, and although she couldn't sit still under such an onslaught, she got to her feet with admirable control. 'A woman scorned,' she said again. 'Oh, Alex! How you deceive yourself!'

  Alex rose then, his dark face grim with menace. 'You like playing with fire, don't you, Isabel?' he grated. 'Well, have a care. You may still get burned!'

  'I'm shaking in my shoes.' In honesty, she was, but he would never know it. 'You can't frighten me any more, Alex.'

  A spasm of some emotion she couldn't identify crossed his face at her words, and then, sighing deeply, he said, 'I'm not trying to frighten you. I came here this afternoon—as I came to your table at lunch time—to try and salvage something from the mess Vinnie has left.'

  'Really?' Isabel couldn't prevent a thread of bitter­ness from entering her voice at his facile explanation. 'And I suppose breaking into my apartment was all part and parcel of making up!'

  'I didn't break in,' said Alex between his teeth.

  'I didn't give you a key.'

  'No, and I knew you wouldn't have let me in if I'd come to your door uninvited.'

  'Which should tell you something about the way I feel about the Setons,' said Isabel contemptuously.

  Alex pushed long fingers through the silky dark hair that lay smoothly against his head. 'I don't want to fight with you, Isabel.'

  'Then go away.'

  'Is that what you want?'

  'Is it what I want?' Isabel uttered a scornful laugh. 'How can you doubt it?'

  'You won't even consider being reasonable?'

  'How reasonable was your uncle?' she spat angrily. 'How reasonable was Chris?'

  'So it is a vendetta,' said Alex flatly. 'Of course. I knew it all along.'

  'You know nothing!'

  Isabel trembled and, unable to bear his eyes upon her any longer, she turned away, walking stiffly towards the windows, and staring out at the park, which had seemed so friendly just a few minutes before. Oh God, she thought painfully, pushing one hand underneath her hair and massaging the taut muscles at the back of her neck. Here she was, fighting with him again. She had determined not to let him get the better of her but, as usual, she had lost control of the argument. He would never believe her now, if she insisted it was not a personal matter. So far as he was concerned, she was still fretting because Chris had divorced her.

  'So I'll tell my uncle there's no chance of his regaining the shares, shall I?' Alex enquired now, and Isabel tensed. Then, when she made no immediate effort to reply, he spoke again, this time from right behind her, and she realised he had crossed the room without her being aware of it.

  'You're a fool, you know,' he said harshly, but for once there was no trace of censure in his voice. 'The shares can't mean anything to you, and Robert would pay dearly to have them back again. With what he would give you, you could live in luxury for the rest of your life!'

  Steeling herself, Isabel turned. 'Is that what you'd do?'

  They were only a few inches apart now, and although it wasn't easy to be as close as this to him, she sensed it was equally as unwelcome to him.

  'I—yes. I guess so,' he said, and she could see the pulse hammering away at the taut curve of his jaw. He swallowed. 'You could at least give it serious consideration. You could even start your own agency, instead of working for that creep, Ferry.'

  Isabel put her hands down to support herself against the wooden sill. 'You said you hardly knew him,' she reminded him obliquely, and Alex took an impatient breath.

  'My association with Jason Ferry is not in question here,' he retorted tersely. 'Look, can't we just forget the past and concentrate on the present? You may be making a living, but you're not exactly affluent, are you? I mean—this apartment is very nice, I'm sure, but you could do better.'

  Isabel resented this statement, but right now, she was prepared to overlook it. She sensed that once again the tables had turned and, for all his brusque-ness, Alex was just as aware of her as she was of him.

  'Do you still live in the same apartment, Alex?' she enquired softly, conscious that her nipples had hard­ened during their exchange, and were now perfectly outlined against the brushed cotton of her track suit. He had noticed them, too, she was almost sure of it, though he took care to keep his gaze levelled on her face.

  'Where I live is nothing to do with you,' he responded curtly, and her lips parted at this further evidence of his frustration. 'Isabel, I'm not trying to trick you. I just want you to think what you'll be giving up, and for what? The opportunity to thwart my uncle's plans for the company? He's made a pretty good job of Denby's without your help. It was on the verge of collapse when he took over. Without him, my grandmother wouldn't have had any shares to leave you. Or do you want to be responsible for the company's decline, is that it? If so, have you thought of all the innocent people who'll lose their jobs if you succeed?'

  Isabel shifted a little uneasily now. 'You know, you really should use your law degree, Alex,' she said, forcing a mocking tone. 'You'd be such an asset in the courtroom. You can argue so convincingly.'

  Alex held her eyes with his. 'Have I convinced you?'

  Isabel swayed. 'About what?' she asked provokingly.

  'About the shares,' replied Alex grimly. 'You knew what I meant. Well? What's your answer?'

  Isabel lifted her shoulders. 'I'm—thinking about it,' she said, and as if noticing a speck of dust on his collar, she stretched out her hand and brushed the fine cloth.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?' he snarled, grasping her wrist and forcing her hand away from him, and her eyes widened in pa
ined reproof.

  'You're hurting me!'

  'I could,' he said savagely. 'Don't tempt me!'

  'Do I?' she probed artlessly, rubbing her bruised wrist, and Alex swore.

  'Do you what?'

  'Tempt you?' she responded, enjoying his aggrava­tion, and without answering her, Alex turned away.

  'I suggest you inform my uncle of your decision,' he declared grimly, walking towards the door, and without giving herself time to consider the advisability of what she was about to do, Isabel went after him.

  Brushing past him, she reached the door before he did, and pressing her shoulders back against the panels, she faced him, as if she had some hope of delaying him by brute force.

  'What's the matter, Alex?' she taunted. 'Daren't you wait for my answer yourself?'

  'Don't be stupid, Isabel.' Alex halted some distance from her. 'Get out of my way!'

  'Make me,' she urged, and it was only later that she realised how reckless her invitation had been.

  But at the time, the uncontrollable desire to humil­iate him as he had humiliated her in the past was too strong to resist. Instead of moving out of his way, she moved towards him, and he was compelled to restrain her.

  'Isabel!' He said her name on a note of desperation, and taking advantage of his momentary weakness, she evaded his grasp, and reaching up, let her tongue touch the taut skin covering his jaw.

  He stiffened then, his hands seeking a hold on her upper arms and propelling her away from him. And Isabel let him, content with the progress she had made so far in proving he was not as indifferent to her as he had pretended. She had heard his quickened breathing, and the scent of heated flesh that filled her nostrils was not just her own. That musky fragrance she could smell came from Alex's skin, and she inhaled it deeply, savouring her success.

  However, if she had not been congratulating herself so prematurely, she might have noticed the moment when Alex's reactions changed. As it was, the dangerous gleam that entered his eyes went unob­served, and she was still considering what her next move should be when the hands which had been forcing her away from him suddenly changed their tactics. One moment she was fighting his urge to be rid of her, and the next she was fighting an entirely different battle.

  'So that's what you want,' he said harshly, jerking her towards him again. 'Well—why should I object?' And before she could summon a protest, he had captured her mouth with his.

  But only for a moment. Arching her back, she was able to break that offensive contact, but in so doing, she had to step backwards again. Which was not the most sensible thing to do, she realised at once, when she came up against the unyielding panels of the door. Now she had no way of avoiding him, and as she flailed wildly at his chest, he ground his mouth against hers again with evident satisfaction.

  She clenched her teeth and struggled to force her knee between his legs, but he gave her no opportunity to thwart him. Instead, the weight of his body pinned her to the door, freeing his hands to encircle her throat with ever-increasing menace.

  She tried to bite him, but she couldn't, and the sudden relaxing of her jaw enabled his tongue to slide between her lips. His stance shifted as the moist warmth of his invasion penetrated deep into the hot cavern of her mouth. His choking grip on her throat eased, and the hands which had previously abused her flesh now took on a sensuous appeal. It was as if he had sensed her own weakening resistance, and his hungry mouth took sustenance from her involuntary response.

  With her breathing constricted by his continued assault, all Isabel could feel and taste and smell was Alex. No matter how she fought the insidious flame he was kindling inside her, his forced proximity was making her overwhelmingly aware of how easy it would be to submit. She wanted to fight him; she wanted to escape the very real threat he posed to her independence. But the truth was, the longer he held her, the less strength she had to resist him, and his physical superiority rendered all her efforts useless.

  She felt his hands move away from her throat, over the quivering width of her shoulders, and down to grip her forearms just above her elbows. But this time, he didn't push her away. Instead, he brought her closer, arching her body against his and drawing her arms around his waist. And all the time, his mouth continued to devour hers, inciting her participation. No matter how she tried to sustain her resentment against him, he was gradually succeeding, forcing her to meet his need and coaxing her tongue into his mouth.

  The heat of his skin through the thin silk of his shirt burned her flesh, fusing them together, and his mouth left her lips to seek the delicate contours of her cheeks. His hands brushed her breasts, taut beneath the cotton, his palms rubbing briefly over the nipples, before moving down to her waist. Her body sagged against the door behind her as one hard thigh was thrust between hers. The powerful muscles probed her womanly softness, and then his hands slid behind her back to cup the rounded curves of her bottom. She was brought even closer, the throbbing maleness between his legs pressing hard against her stomach.

  'Oh, God,' he muttered, squeezing her urgently against him. 'I'd forgotten how good you were!'

  It was the tormented self-derision in his voice that got to her. It wasn't so much what he said, although that was damning enough. It was the harsh reminder in his tones that he had not instigated this that brought her to her senses. Instead of controlling the situation, she was being controlled and, taking advan­tage of his sexually-induced weakness, she tore herself out of his arms.

  'Get out!'

  She practically screamed the words at him, but although Alex was still at the mercy of his senses, he was not incoherent. 'It's a bit late for that, isn't it?' he enquired, fixing her with a lazily mocking gaze. He was making no attempt to hide his arousal from her, and when he ran his fingers down the length of his zip, she actually shuddered.

  'I said—get out!' she repeated grimly, uncaring of what interpretation he might put upon it. He was still dangerously attractive to her, and it was taking all her strength to maintain her composure.

  'Very well.' Alex took a deep breath and straight­ened his spine. Then, mocking her attempts to belittle him, he added, 'Did you come to a decision about the shares?'

  'You—you bastard!'

  'Is that a yes or a no?'

  Isabel quivered. 'God—how I hate you, Alex!'

  'Well, I guess that's a no,' he remarked, walking indolently towards the door. 'I'll pass your message on.'

  She struggled to find a suitable rejoinder while he released the security locks she had set earlier, but it was useless. There was nothing she could say which would give her any satisfaction whatsoever, and when the door banged behind him, she was left with the unpleasant awareness that once again he had made a fool of her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Isabel stepped into a slim-fitting navy skirt, and searched for the zip. It didn't help when she caught the hem of her cream silk shirt in the fastener, and she was swearing softly to herself when Lauren Bishop entered the dressing-room.

  'Temper, temper,' she reproved lightly, kicking off the high heels she was wearing and bending to massage her aching feet. 'You've told him now, and he's accepted it. Think positively, Isabel. Helen, for one, is delighted to be going to Madrid in your place. Jason will get over it. You know he always does.'

  Isabel sighed. 'But I told him last week that there was a board meeting on Thursday. He can't have forgotten. Jason doesn't forget things like that.'

  'Perhaps he hoped you'd give it a miss,' said Lauren carelessly, leaning towards the mirror to examine her complexion. 'Do you think this foundation really suits me? Maxine says it does, but I'm not so sure.'

  'Maxine says what Jason wants her to say,' said Isabel tensely, in no mood to spare the other girl's feelings. 'And how can I give the meeting a miss? I have to be there to know what's going on.'

  Lauren sighed, and turned to rest her hips against the vanity unit. She was a tall girl, too, and although she was much darker than Isabel, they could wear the same colours quite
successfully. They were not close friends; Isabel's attitude did not encourage close friendships. But they were compatible, and whenever they travelled abroad, they generally shared a room.

  Now, Lauren shook her head. 'Why is it so important to you to actually attend?' she asked. 'I mean, you can always get a report of the meeting, can't you? Don't they take minutes or something?

  Isabel sighed. 'Yes, they take minutes.'

  'There you are then.'

  'But I want to be there. It's—important to me to be there. It's what Lady Denby would have wanted.'

  'Lady Denby,' echoed Lauren, nodding. 'She's the old lady who left you the shares, isn't she?'

  'That's right.' Isabel bit her lip, and then added reluctantly, 'She was my ex-husband's grandmother.'

  'Ah.' Lauren made a gesture of understanding. 'How unique!'

  'Unique?'

  'Yes.' Lauren regarded her wryly. 'Most in-laws do not leave their granddaughters-in-law legacies. Much less ones who are divorced from their grandsons.'

  'Oh!' Isabel felt herself colouring. 'No—well, Vinnie and I were friends, you see.'

  'Vinnie?'

  'Lady Denby.'

  'I see.' Lauren moved her shoulders as if she didn't really. 'So, you'll see your ex-husband on Thursday then.'

  Isabel hesitated. 'I expect so,' she said at last. That was one eventuality she was not looking forward to.

  'Is that why Jason is so peeved about it?' queried Lauren shrewdly, and at Isabel's startled look, she added, 'We all know how he feels about you, Isabel. He's not exactly made a secret of it.'

  'Oh.' Isabel shook her head. 'I don't know. I hope not. I like Jason but------'

  '—but he's not your ex-husband, hmm?'

  'No!' Isabel was vehement. 'No, it's nothing like that. There's no question of Chris and I—that is, well—it was a mistake. Our marriage, I mean. It should never have happened. I—I was young—and flattered, and------' she bent her head to locate her shoes, '—it seemed a good idea at the time.'