Playing Safe

by Claudia Jameson

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'You're not enjoying yourself, are you, Melissa?' Grace watched her dismount; there was no way she was going to make a good rider. Anyone could be taught how to ride, but not everyone took to it easily, not everyone had a feeling for horses, and if one were afraid of them… 'Why are you grinning like that? Did you think I didn't know?'

  This was their fourth attempt, the fourth Sunday afternoon they had spent together—in the grounds of Allinson Manor. 'Melissa?'

  'I'm not a quitter, you know. It's just that—well, I don't really like it.'

  'I know. So there's no point. We'll have to think again. You're going to need something to do in your spare time once that house of yours is in order.'

  'I've sent off for some prospectuses.' Melissa was a few paces behind Grace as they led the horses back to the stables, looking at her and obviously expecting a response.

  'Prospectuses? You mean for university?'

  'University, polytechnics, anywhere. I've written to several places.' She shook her head in frustration. 'You've forgotten! I'm making enquiries about courses on interior design and decoration.'

  'Oh! Oh, Melissa, that's marvellous! That is exciting. Come on, let's see to the horses and then we can have some coffee and talk about it.' Grace was genuinely pleased. 'What does Demetrius think of the idea?'

  The younger girl's expression changed, the smile dropped from her face. 'I haven't told him yet.'

  'But—why ever not?'

  'I—I don't know how he'd react. He's a strange man, you know, he doesn't trust me. And he has a wicked temper at times.' She sighed. 'I'm not being dramatic, it's true. He's far more English than I am in many ways, but—he is half-Greek and when he gets passionate about something, he gets passionate. You've never seen him in a temper. It's not a pretty sight.'

  Grace did not pursue the conversation. She hadn't been in the Knights' house again, she had stuck firmly to her resolve about avoiding Demetrius. There had been a few occasions during the last three weeks when Melissa had phoned her in the early evening, asking her over. 'Demetrius is in his office and probably won't come out before bedtime. How about coming round for a couple of hours?'

  Grace had declined, but had offered to collect her and bring her to her home for the evening instead, for she knew Melissa was lonely. She had picked her up and had delivered her home again— without setting foot in her brother's house. As far as she was concerned, it was an arrangement that worked very well, but Demetrius Knight obviously had other ideas…

  On the following Wednesday, some time after Grace had driven his sister home, he came round to see her. She was just going upstairs to bed when the doorbell rang. She hurried to answer it, at a loss to imagine who it could be.

  'Mr Knight! I—well, I certainly didn't expect—'

  'Demetrius. I know, you certainly didn't expect to find me standing on your doorstep.'

  The way he had finished the sentence for her made her bristle, but she said nothing.

  'May I come in?'

  'Of course.' She stepped aside, her inbred good manners alone preventing her from adding, 'If you must.' She led the way to the drawing-room and flicked on the lights. 'I hope this won't take too long, I was just on my way to bed—'

  'I realise that,' he said, 'and I'm sorry to disturb you.'

  He wasn't at all sorry, he settled in the armchair by the fireplace, looking perfectly at home and as though he was there for the duration. 'I want to talk to you about Melissa.'

  'I realise that,' she said, mimicking his own words, his carelessness. 'There's nothing else you could wish to talk to me about.'

  Suddenly he smiled, managing somehow, once again, to make her regret her clever retort. 'I wouldn't be too sure about that. You've hardly given me a chance, have you?'

  'Mr Knight—'

  'Demetrius. Why so aggressive, Grace? Has my sister influenced you so much that you're incapable of gauging my character for yourself? This is precisely why I'm here,' he added, his eyes fixed firmly on hers as she sat down some distance from him. 'I want to say that I'm grateful to you for entertaining Melissa—but I find your avoidance of me both childish and aggravating.'

  Grace denied the accusation, even though it was the truth. She flushed, hating herself for it and wondering how it was he always managed to do this to her. 'Avoidance? I haven't—'

  'You haven't set foot in my house for almost a month. You've collected Melissa and you've delivered her—as you did this evening—and tonight when you refused her invitation to come in for a nightcap, I decided I'd come over and sort you out.'

  'Sort me—' She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sort her out? As for Melissa—well, she had obviously been questioned when she got indoors!

  'That's what I said. Now then, perhaps you'll tell me what I've done to offend you?'

  She was about to do just that but, before she had a chance he held up a hand, silencing her, taking the wind out of her sails. 'Think before you answer. Try to leave my sister's opinion of me out of it.'

  Newly offended, she shot to her feet. 'This is pointless. It's quite obvious you're incapable of holding a civilised conversation. You're the aggressive one, you're also extremely rude. You seem to take pleasure in insulting my intelligence!'

  For a long moment nothing was said. He stared at her, as if he'd thought her incapable of such an outburst. When at last he broke the silence, he smiled appreciatively. 'Well, well, it seems there's more to you than meets the eye. Speaking of which, may I say how beautiful you look when you're riled?'

  'You may say whatever you like—but not to me. I've heard enough. Please leave, Mr Knight.'

  'Demetrius.'

  'For heaven's sake—'

  'Are you coming to the party?'

  Grace glared at him, at a loss to understand for a moment. He looked so at home in that armchair, so unruffled, so amused by all this. 'What party?' she snapped.

  'Our housewarming.'

  'Oh.' She sat down again, feeling idiotic. Melissa had gone on about this, about how she had persuaded Demetrius to throw the party. 'But naturally he had to be snide,' she had added, 'and spoilt it by telling me not to invite my crazy friends from London. Honestly! Just because they smoke grass…'

  Of course Grace was invited, but she had not yet made up her mind whether to go. It was a few weeks away yet, over Easter, by which time the Knights' house would be finished.

  'Miss Grade?' The housekeeper interrupted them before anything else could be said. She was standing in the doorway, looking apologetic. 'I'm so sorry, I wasn't sure whether I heard voices. I saw the lights and… well, I came down to get some hot milk and I wondered whether you'd like some? Good evening, Mr Knight.'

  'Good evening to you, Matilda. How are you?'

  'I'm fine, thank you, sir. And you? How's your house coming along?'

  'Very nicely. You must come and see it when it's finished. In fact, we're having a housewarming party and Miss Grace will be there, and Sir Nigel, of course. And you'll be more than welcome, Matilda.'

  Grace watched the exchange with an amusement she hid. Matty, bless her, was being charmed by the man! Could she see no further than his handsome face? Couldn't she see what he was really like? Apparently not.

  'No drink for me, Matty,' Grace interrupted at the earliest opportunity. 'And Mr Knight was just leaving.'

  'Not at all,' he said smoothly. 'I'm in no hurry.' He turned to the housekeeper. 'I'd love some coffee, if it's no trouble.'

  He was assured by the retreating Matty that it was no trouble at all. Grace folded her arms across her chest and waited. Silence reigned.

  'Well?'

  'Well what?'

  'The party, Grace. How about it?'

  She let out a slow breath. 'Didn't you just tell my housekeeper I would be there? It seems you've taken me for granted.'

  'And do you mind that?'

  'I mind very much. If you knew me better, you would know that taking me for granted is a mistake.'

&
nbsp; He inclined his head, his interest aroused—which was the last thing she had intended to do. 'How about giving me the chance?'

  'What?'

  'To get to know you better. Come out to dinner with me tomorrow.'

  'No, thank you.'

  Demetrius laughed. 'That isn't very neighbourly, is it?'

  She was unmoved. The fact that she was going out to dinner with Rodney Featherstone the following evening was irrelevant, she was simply not interested in going out with this man. 'Perhaps it isn't. I will, however, come to your housewarming party—because Melissa wants me to. And that reminds me, Thomas will be home over Easter, I take it he's invited, too?'

  'Thomas? Ah, yes, your brother. Of course he's invited.'

  There's nothing to say he'll come, mind you; my brother isn't exactly the partying type.'

  'What type is he?'

  She sighed, feeling that she had no choice but to sit here; Matty had just walked in with his coffee and that meant at least another fifteen minutes. Still, her irritation had subsided now the conversation had taken a more pleasant, and neutral, turn. 'I suppose he's something of a boffin.'

  'You mean a mad scientist?'

  'You're getting the picture. Very much an academic.'

  'How old is he?'

  'Twenty-seven.'

  'And you, Grace? How old are you?'

  'Twenty-four.' Her impatience was resurfacing, it wasn't his questions so much as the way he was looking at her. His admiration of her physical appearance was unconcealed and it was also unwanted. 'How come you don't know anything about me and Thomas?'

  'Why should I?'

  'My father—'

  'Nigel has never discussed his children with me, except to say that he's proud of them.'

  'I'm glad to hear that.'

  'That he hasn't discussed you?'

  'That he's proud of us.' Her eyes closed. It hadn't always been the case, heaven knew that. Not as far as she was concerned, anyway! 'Well, I'm proud of my brother, too.'

  There was another silence. It felt awkward to Grace, but Demetrius evidently didn't feel that way. He was looking at her now as if he had never seen her before, as if he were reassessing her. Quite suddenly he said, 'By rights, I should have had two brothers.'

  'I—what do you mean?'

  'My mother had two more sons after me. They both died within five weeks of birth. She said she thought she'd never get over that, having two of them die. She said she gave up, she'd always wanted a daughter but she wasn't going to risk having another baby. Melissa came along unexpectedly, very unexpectedly, years later when it was almost too late. My mother was forty-three when Melissa was born. I was eighteen by then, and working for Dad.'

  That he should volunteer information of this nature surprised Grace. She knew about her neighbours' background, she thought the story both romantic and sad, but she hadn't known about the two babies. 'Your parents met in Greece during World War Two, didn't they?'

  'That's right. My mother's immediate family, all of them, had been killed. She got a passage to England at the end of the war and married my father in his home town, in Devon. Dad went into business with an ex-army friend, as a builders' merchant. But his friend died and so Dad kept the business going alone. It was just in a small way, he didn't make much money, he wasn't ambitious except to see that his family were sheltered and fed.

  'When Melissa was six months old my father was killed on a building site. He was making a delivery and there was an accident. He was crushed to death. The shock almost killed my mother. When Melissa was two she took her to live in Greece—home, as she still thought of it. She went back to Athens, where she'd been born. I can't say I approved of that, but I could hardly prevent her, any more than she could insist I went with her. I'd been running Dad's business for over two years and had expanded it.'

  In spite of herself, Grace had to smile. Expanded it, he'd said. He had made more money than his father ever had. 'How old were you then?'

  'Twenty.'

  'And you've come a long way since.' She was still smiling, unaware how interested she had become until she heard herself saying, 'Tell me more.'

  He shrugged, 'That's about it, really.'

  'That's not the end of the story. Your mother took the two-year-old Melissa to Athens, and I take it you supported them from afar. Did she still have friends there?'

  'Some, and a few distant relatives—well, cousins, second cousins and the like, a few aunts and uncles who were much older, all of whom are poor. I visited occasionally and, when I could afford to, I bought her a house. Then, in time, a better house.'

  'The one with the outdoor swimming pool,' Grace added, smiling at his look of surprise. 'No, I didn't know the full story, just part of it. So, when your mother died you took Melissa away from Greece?'

  'I had no choice, she could hardly have lived in the house alone. There was no way I would hand her over to relatives, either, not that she'd have liked that.'

  'So you sent her to boarding-school, the convent school in Derbyshire.'

  He frowned. 'You make that sound like an accusation.'

  'Not at all,' she said hastily, sincerely. 'What else could you have done?'

  'Quite. I was living in my apartment in London, but I travelled around a lot in those days. It would have been impractical to keep her with me. Besides, what did I know about twelve-year-old girls?'

  'I wonder,' Grace said gently, not wishing to antagonise him when they were finally managing to communicate, 'how much you know about eighteen-year-old girls.'

  In the face of his silence she thought she had failed to keep the peace. He put his coffee-cup down, got to his feet and crossed over to where she was sitting, looking down at her. She got up and took two paces to the side. 'Look, I only meant—'

  'It's all right,' he said softly, his hand reaching to encircle her wrist. 'No offence taken. You're right. I wonder, too. I find that I understand females very well indeed…when they're a little older than eighteen.'

  She looked down at her arm, where his hand lay in a grip that was unnecessarily tight. Suddenly he pulled her closer to him, so close that she could see for the first time quite how intensely beautiful his eyes were. 'Demetrius—'

  'So how about our dinner date?'

  'No—thank you. It's very sweet of you but—'

  'Don't patronise me, just say yes.'

  She had to look away then, there was too much information coming at her all at once. His nearness was bothering her, his hand felt as if it were burning into her flesh, and on top of all this there was the effect his conversation had had on her. He had surprised her by opening up like that, he wasn't the unreasonable brute she had thought him, far from it. But even so… 'No.' It came out firmly, in fact she didn't know why she had hesitated. She might have had to reassess this man, but in honesty she still couldn't say she liked him, certainly not enough to go out with him alone.

  So why was it that his lack of insistence bothered her? Why did she feel let down when he merely shrugged and said he would see himself out? Worst of all, at the last minute she heard herself saying something about taking a raincheck. 'Perhaps— perhaps some other time, Demetrius.'

  He was at the door of the drawing-room by then. He didn't even turn to look back at her. 'Perhaps. Goodnight, Grace.'

  Over the following few days she went over that encounter with him several times. She heard nothing from him or his sister. She was alone in the house at the weekend; Matilda had Sundays off and had gone to visit her sister, Sir Nigel was spending the weekend in London, which was unusual, very. It was something else worth a thought. Was her father seeing his lady-friend? If so, why didn't he simply say so? He had given no explanation for his staying in town. Not for the first time in her life, Grace thought people funny, strange. So often they made problems for themselves by making things unnecessarily complex. What was it someone had once said? 'I'm an old man and I've had many worries in my life, most of which never happened.'

  Her business was cl
osed all day Tuesdays, and she went into London to do some shopping. Spring was just around the corner, and the shops were full of new fashions, new colours. She bought several dresses, a new suit and two pairs of shoes.

  As if obliging only her, the weather on Wednesday was fine. The wind had finally abated and the sky was blue. It was March and actually felt as though spring had sprung. She put on one of her new dresses, a deep blue shirtwaister in fine cotton, popped a jacket in her car just for insurance, and drove to Wokingham in a very good mood.

  She got to the salon at eight-twenty-five, turned on the lights and switched switches on the telephone answering-machine, always the first job of the day. The first message was the cancellation of Mrs Evans' appointment for an eyelash tint, which was not exactly serious, and the next message was from Demetrius Knight.

  Grace looked at the machine as if it had just bitten her, played the message through for a second and then a third time. The voice was crystal clear and businesslike: 'Hello, Grace. This is Demetrius Knight, I'm calling at eight a.m., Wednesday. I'm not sure what time you open, but perhaps you'd call me back.' There followed his telephone number, an extension number and then, 'I'd like to talk to you. I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me today.'

  'Lunch?' She spoke aloud, as if expecting the little grille on the machine to offer an explanation. What explanation could there be? And then she realised. She sat down, groaning, cursing Melissa.

  She, Grace, had exercised as much diplomacy as she could. She had tried to be friendly and supportive to Melissa, but she had not interfered in her relationship with her brother or in any other way. Had she? Or had she? It was she who had put the idea of interior decorating into her head.

  So there was going to be trouble. Demetrius wanted to talk to her, and she didn't need three guesses what it was about. Promptly, she picked up the telephone and dialled. There was no point in putting this off, she didn't even want to. Melissa had taken her advice, clearly, and had told Demetrius what she was up to.

  A crisp voice answered. 'DKK Holdings, may I help you?'

  'Extension nineteen, please.'