Time Fuse

The Seaton’s house was in a quiet Chelsea mews; elegant and comfortable; a true home Selina reflected as the housekeeper let her in.

‘Good, you’re just in time for lunch,’ her employer exclaimed when he saw her. ‘Come and tell us all about it.’

She did so with the quiet self-control that marked her behaviour. Susan Seaton smiled warmly at her, marvelling at her lack of excitement. At Selina’s age she had already been a mother, but she had never possessed this girl’s cool control. Sometimes it worried her. It was almost unnatural for a girl of her age to be so contained. She had rarely heard her laugh or seen her cry, and she had worked for her husband for three years, living almost as closely as a member of the family.

‘I never thought for a moment that Gerald would turn you down,’ the Judge told her. ‘He’ll make use of your mind,’ he warned her; ‘I know he’s talking about retirement, but he’s still a powerhouse of activity; he’s one of our foremost QCs, with young Piers looking likely to follow in his footsteps. Now there’s a man to reckon with; an excellent defence counsel, but positively lethal in prosecution. He seems to possess an intuition that leads him right to a person’s Achilles heel. He’s as close to Sir Gerald as a son—perhaps closer; in fact I’d say after his mother his uncle is the only other person he’s fond enough of to allow him to sway his judgment. Gerald stepped in and took over the role of surrogate father when his own died. His sister Dulcie was widowed very young. Piers will be taking over from his uncle when Gerald finally retires.’

‘Wait until you meet him,’ Susan Seaton enthused, her eyes sparkling. ‘He is quite devastatingly attractive.’

‘I met him today.’ Selina said it quietly, her head bent over her soup plate. Over her head the older couple exchanged glances.

‘You don’t sound very impressed. He’s a very able, almost an inspired barrister.’

‘He struck me as being rather conceited and sexually domineering,’ Selina said coolly, ‘but it hardly matters what I think. After all we’re not likely to come into much contact with one another.’

‘Don’t be so sure,’ the Judge cautioned her. ‘Gerald relies a good deal on Piers, and since he’s training him to take over from him, I suspect you might find you see quite a lot of him.’

The thought was extremely unpalatable. She had disliked the man on sight, Selina admitted; something about him was as abrasive to her personality as being rubbed with sandpaper; something over and above the fact that he belonged to a type of male animal she most disliked. There had been an instant awareness between them that she couldn’t deny, a look in his eyes that cautioned her to tread carefully, causing her to seethe with resentment that it should be so.

TO celebrate his birthday the Judge had booked a table at one of London’s more exclusive restaurants. Selina left her own small flat in plenty of time to reach the Seaton’s house at the appointed time. Her dress was a plain slip of cream silk she had bought in Brown’s sale. High-necked and long-sleeved, she considered it a suitable addition to her wardrobe, without realising that the silk moved with her as she walked, caressing her elegant body with a sensuality that very few men could remain unaware of. She simply saw it as the right sort of dress to wear out to dinner. She liked good clothes and wore them well; choosing them for elegance and wearability rather than sexual appeal, not knowing that the body they clothed was sexual enticement all by itself. Having taught herself to clamp down on any sexual urges she might feel almost from childhood, Selina was blind to them in others. If she ever happened to catch a man looking at her, studying her, she would look back in an icy disdain that normally made him retreat. The first attempt any male escort made to touch her was always the last. Sex was a weapon that could inflict terrible wounds on the innocent as well as the guilty and it was one she herself would never descend to using. She might be her mother’s daughter, but she would never be branded as she had been. She would succeed without using her body; without betraying her principles. She had to.

The restaurant was busy; a sea of unfamiliar faces; the table to which the Seatons and Selina were shown was slightly secluded from the others.

Susan Seaton ordered her food with relish. In many ways Selina almost envied Susan. She was a happy, contented woman who had devoted her life to her husband and family and who had been repaid in turn by their love and protection.

Beyond the tables and diners there was a small dance floor. Music was provided by an immaculately dinner-suited pianist.

‘My, it quite takes me back,’ Susan sighed nostalgically as they waited for their food. ‘Do you remember, Henry, when we used to go to the Savoy? You took me there for our first wedding anniversary.’

‘And you were sick,’ the Judge smiled.

‘And we both thought it must have been something I’d eaten, until we discovered that I was carrying John.’

The Seatons had three children and several grandchildren. At the weekend they would be driving down to their eldest daughter’s for a family celebration. Selina closed her mind against the thought of it. Family occasions were something that belonged to other people. They had no place in her life.

They were halfway through their meal when the Judge put down his knife and fork and said mildly, ‘Good heavens, talk about coincidences. There’s Piers Gresham.’

‘Where?’ His wife craned her head to look. ‘Who’s that with him?’ she asked. ‘Do you recognise her?’

The Judge shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea who she is.’

Selina glanced up from her food and glanced briefly at the other couple—Piers Gresham was seated several tables away facing her. All she could see of his female companion was her back view, but that was enough for Selina to grimace slightly. The other woman was wearing a dress that revealed most of her tanned back; a dark fall of hair brushing her neck. She was dressed in a way designed to catch a man’s eye, and as always Selina felt her muscles tighten at the sight of such open sexuality. It offended her and she shrank from it, unaware that her distaste was mirrored in her face or that she was being observed. Her reactions to other people’s sexuality always distressed Selina; she knew deep down inside herself they were a legacy from what she had endured as a child; from knowing that she was the fruit of a union that had been motivated on one side by sexual greed and on the other by social avarice but knowing the reason for her reactions did not help her to come to terms with them.

Piers Gresham had obviously seen them. When they had finished eating he came across to their table, urbane and charming as he chatted to the Judge and his wife, but his eyes were constantly assessing Selina, his scrutiny of her making her tense and uneasy.

‘You and Selina met this morning, I believe,’ the Judge said turning to draw her into the conversation. ‘Your uncle is gaining a very valuable aide in her.’

‘I’m sure he is. Perhaps you’d care to dance with me, Selina, and we could get to know one another a little better?’

Other couples were already dancing and the Seatons obviously saw nothing untoward in the invitation because they were both smiling expectantly at her. Across the room her eyes slid to the dark-haired girl waiting at the table and a fierce surge of anger swept over her. Who did he think he was? Some sort of irresistible God who had merely to speak to have women worshipping at his feet? It didn’t strike her that her reaction was wildly illogical; she was possessed by some elemental surge of emotion that warned her that this man was dangerous and to be repudiated at all costs. Without stopping to weigh her words, she said coldly, ‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind.’ Her eyes flicked over to the girl waiting for him, and so she missed the glint of cold anger in his eyes, ‘After all, our relationship is going to be professional rather than social, and I prefer to have things plain from the start. It makes for a much less complicated life.’ She looked straight at him as she delivered her cool words, caught off-guard by the depth of anger she saw in his eyes.

‘That was rather over the top wasn’t it?’ her employer remarked when Piers had gone.

Trying not to flush at the faint criticism in his voice Selina shrugged. ‘He only asked me out of politeness. He already had someone to dance with.’

‘Even so, you rejected him extremely pointedly,’ the Judge told her. ‘No man likes being rejected, Selina,’ he told her gently, ‘especially not in public. Be very careful, my dear. He could make an extremely powerful enemy.’

‘Because I refused to dance with him?’ Selina injected a note of acid scorn into her voice. ‘Wouldn’t that be rather small-minded?’

‘He’s a man, my dear,’ the Judge told her wryly, ‘and we males are notoriously vulnerable where our egos are concerned. We weren’t the only ones to hear you refuse him,’ he added gently, ‘and you must admit that as a put down it was decidedly strong.’

Not wanting to admit even to herself that she had been betrayed into hasty speech because of her own response to his sexuality, Selina shrugged slim shoulders. ‘The odd rejection does none of us any harm from time to time.’ She glanced over to where Piers was now dancing with his companion, and added cynically, ‘I doubt he’ll lose any sleep over it. He seems more than happy with the dancing companion he’s got.’

‘Umm, well tread carefully,’ the Judge warned her. ‘He’s not a man I’d like to get on the wrong side of.’

Instinct had already told Selina that and she couldn’t understand why she had been so rude to him. There had been other men before whom she had disliked equally as much and yet she had managed to conceal it from them. Not so with this man. He had recognised her rejection for what it was; she had seen the realisation flare and burn in his eyes and she shivered sensing that there would be some form of retribution…

Whatever it was she could cope with it. She had coped with similar situations before and emerged unscathed. What she had to do now was to concentrate on getting to know her father so that she could at last free herself from the guilts of the past, because until she did they would continue to poison the present and the future.

CHAPTER TWO

SELINA’S first week in Gerald Harvey’s employ passed quickly. During their interview she had been too wrought up and tense to do much more than concentrate on his questions, but now that she was settling down into the day-to-day routine she found herself watching him; wondering what he would say if he knew the truth; how he would react. She had promised herself long ago that she would never fall into the trap of wanting an emotional commitment from the man who had fathered her and all through her growing up, although she had followed his career, she had never ever allowed herself to think of him as her father—to her he had simply been her mother’s lover; and then her opponent in a battle in which she herself had been used as no more than another weapon. She had never anticipated feeling any emotional response to him; after all why should she; and yet, illogically, it was there; it was disconcerting to discover how easily they meshed and at the end of the first week he turned to her and said warmly.

‘Selina, I’m going to bless the day I hired you. We seem to have achieved a working rapport in a remarkable short space of time. Do you think you’ll be happy with us?’

Happy? Selina tried to analyse the word. What was happiness? She had reached a goal and that in itself brought with it its own sense of achievement, but happy…

‘I’m sure I shall be,’ she told him equably, lowering her head so that he couldn’t see her face. This man was her father; they were united by ties of blood and heritage and yet…

‘Is something bothering you?’

He asked the question quietly, coming to stand immediately behind her, one hand on her arm. There was nothing sexual in his touch; it was merely concern, and Selina was shaken to discover that tears were pricking her eyes.

A sound outside her vision broke the silence between them. Someone had opened the door, and Selina felt her nerves curl in bitter tension as she heard her father say genially, ‘Piers, it’s good to have you back. Did all go well?’

It had been a relief to Selina to discover that Piers Gresham was away for several days. He had gone to stay with his godfather, Sue, Gerald’s secretary, had told her. But now he was back.

‘Fine.’

Selina could feel the intensity of his gaze concentrated on her, forcing her to lift her head. Something in her eyes made his narrow and sharpen, moving from her face to her father’s and then back to hers again, his mouth grim. Sue ran through to advise her father that she had a call waiting on the line for him and as both she and Piers moved away out of earshot Selina was stunned to hear him say warningly.

‘I don’t know what game you’re playing with my uncle but it better not be the one I think it is. He is a married man you know, or is that what you prefer? If so, you won’t find him any pushover, he was nearly caught that way once before.’

Sick to her stomach Selina stumbled past him, making for the sanctuary of the Ladies’ cloakroom. Once inside she was furious with herself for the nausea that choked her throat. What was wrong with her? She had only herself to blame for Piers’ hostility. But that was no reason for him to assume that simply because his uncle was touching her arm that she had deliberately… Her stomach lurched. The man was her father for God’s sake. But he did not know that and neither did Piers Gresham.

It was a good fifteen minutes before she felt in control enough to leave the Ladies. On her way back to her office she passed Sue. The other girl gave her a curious glance. Sue had a boyfriend with whom she lived and to whom she was devoted. That did not stop her from flirting with every male who crossed her path, though. However, she was a good-natured girl, as warm and open as she herself was silent and reserved Selina acknowledged, returning her smile.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine. Is Sir Gerald off the phone?’

When Sue nodded Selina opened the door and walked into her father’s room, but it was Piers who stood behind the desk not her father. She came to a full stop, aware that the tiny hairs at the back of her neck were raised in primaeval awareness.

‘Excuse me.’ Her voice sounded artificially polite. ‘I was looking for Sir Gerald.’

‘He’s just popped out. Don’t run away, I’d like to talk to you.’ As he spoke he put down the brief he had been reading and came towards her. A panicky desire to turn and flee almost overwhelmed her, but Selina withstood it. She was going to have to accustom herself to this man’s presence; after all they would be working in the same set of chambers; they were bound to meet occasionally and the sooner she learned not to react so intensely to him the better it would be.

‘What made you apply for this post?’

His question caught her off-guard. For a moment she said nothing and then stammered. ‘I…I…I was ready for a change,’ she managed at last.

‘Is that so? You know you’re remarkably well qualified for a young lady who is content to be merely a PA. Have you never thought of taking on something more challenging? You have an excellent degree.’

‘I have my ambitions yes.’ Selina tried to mimic his cool self-possession.

‘And what are they, I wonder?’ He was coming towards her now, stalking her almost, she thought angrily. What was he hoping to achieve? ‘My uncle thinks very highly of you. In fact I’d say he’s taken to you in a remarkably short space of time. Most unusual. He’s normally a very cautious man where attractive young women are concerned.’

‘Why?’ Selina asked flippantly. ‘Does he have a jealous wife?’

Just for a second she was alarmed by the gleam in the midnight blue eyes, but then it was gone, his expression flat and unreadable.

‘Not very clever, Miss Thorn,’ he said at last. ‘If you’re only half as clever as I think you are you must have read all there is to read on my uncle; done all your background research before you applied for this job. You know very well why he would want to avoid any sort of entanglement outside his marriage don’t you?’

Selina felt as though the floor had suddenly dropped away beneath her, leaving her on thin ice.

‘I know that many years ago your uncle was involved with another woman,’ she agreed coolly, turning aside with what she hoped was a calm disdain as she added, ‘but then so have many other prominent men.’

‘Indeed they have, but very few have attracted the subsequent blaze of publicity and notoriety suffered by my uncle. I was eight years old at the time. My aunt almost suffered a nervous breakdown.’

‘I’m sure it must have been an extremely traumatic time for you all.’ Selina was distant, her voice clipped. Don’t tell me any more, it warned him, I don’t want to hear, but her warning signals were ignored.

‘My uncle has three daughters; the eldest one was expecting her first child at that time; she lost it; the second ran away from school because she could not endure the torment inflicted on her by her school-mates. You’re looking quite pale, Miss Thorn. Do you find what I’m relating to you upsetting?’

‘It was all a long time ago,’ she managed to say, hating him now with an intensity that made her long to physically assault him. How dared he tell her all this…. Didn’t he think that she had suffered…that she… She pulled herself together before she lost control completely.

‘I can assure you that I have no desire to break up your uncle’s marriage,’ she told him crisply. That much at least was true.

‘Maybe not,’ he agreed slowly, ‘but you have some ulterior means for being here. I can sense it. Body signals are a very strange thing, Miss Thorn,’ he added watching her. ‘They give away to others so much more than we want them to see. Why do you dislike me so much?’

‘How could I dislike you? I barely know you.’ Selina forced a cool smile, ‘I think you’re suffering from an ego problem, Mr Gresham. I am merely indifferent to you.’ She was lying and she suspected that he knew it but she wasn’t going to back down.

‘Is that a fact.’ He said it softly closing the distance between them before she could move. ‘Well, let’s just find out how much truth there is in that statement shall we?’

The hard warmth of his mouth as it covered hers shocked her into submission. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her body, but her own refused to mirror its firm rhythm. It thudded threadily, her body tensing in mingled shock and rejection, her eyes blazing bitter defiance and fury as she fought against the domination of his hands and mouth. He was kissing her with ruthless precision and a great deal of sexual expertise; her body shamingly recognised that, even while her mind was disgusted by it. As soon as he released her Selina slapped him, panting hard as she delivered the hard blow.

It left the palm of her hand smarting and a white welt of flesh against his lean cheek which was now slowly filling with dark blood.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to repeat the experiment.’ For some reason his soft words brought darting flares of pain. He watched her, eyes slitted, ‘Do you know,’ he added, ‘I’ve always considered that that particular form of retaliation sprang more from sexual frustration than annoyance. Perhaps sometime it might be worth while putting my theory to the test.’

The way he said it made her blood run through her veins in angry fire. ‘Not with me you don’t,’ Selina told him rashly.

For a moment something came and then went in his eyes and when he spoke again, he appeared totally in control, unlike her, Selina reflected bitterly as he drawled. ‘Well now a man with an ego like mine just might consider that challenge to be an invitation, my dear. Is that what turns you on? To slap a man down and then needle him into physical savagery? If so, it’s a dangerous hobby.’

She wanted to spit and fly at him like an angry cat. No one had ever tossed such outrageous accusations at her before, and certainly not in a languid, almost soft voice that suggested that there was no possible way in which its owner’s assessment of her could be wrong.

If her father hadn’t walked back into his office just then Selina didn’t know how she would have reacted. As it was she muttered something about a phone call and excused herself. It was only later, safe in her own flat, that she was forced to admit to herself that resent it though she did, Piers Gresham had managed to provoke a physical response from her in a way that no man had done before. Even now she found it impossible to accept that there had been that moment of fierce need to respond to his kiss; that sensation of melting and then burning that urged her to yield. But she hadn’t done so. He had broken the kiss before she had betrayed herself that much.

From the first moment she saw him she had known that Piers Gresham was a man to be wary of. Now this impression had been reinforced a thousandfold. It would be a long time before she forgot how he had looked at her when he questioned her. So he didn’t trust her did he; well she didn’t trust him either.

Back in her flat that evening some impulse she couldn’t contain led her to study her features carefully in her bedroom mirror. What had Piers seen there that had led him to make his accusations? A formidable man the Judge had called him; for formidable she would have said diabolical Selina thought mentally. Even now hours after her encounter with him her pulses still fluttered at the thought of him, her mind and body unable to relax from the turmoil he had caused, and she for the space of one heartbeat had been in real danger of succumbing to him, of forgetting everything she had learned during her life and responding to his kiss… It would never happen again. Maybe the Judge had been right and she had been wrong to react as she had done in the restaurant, but even then her body had been sending her signals that had terrified her and she had reacted instinctively, too frightened by them to use reason and logic.

For some reason that evening she found it impossible to settle. Normally she enjoyed the quiet hours of solitude in her flat. After the hectic bustle of her foster parents home, where, despite their kindness, she had never felt she fitted in, she had come to relish the peace and quiet of her own home. The books she had collected at Oxford lined her bookshelves; the antique dresser she had found at a country market and lovingly restored holding her china and few little treasures. Her flat was in a large old house with a pleasant garden which she shared with the other tenants, most of whom she knew to say good morning to but very little else. That was the way she had wanted her life, free of complications; of people who might ask questions and force her to lie.

At university she had dreamed that somehow she might be able to follow in her father’s footsteps, but of course it had been impossible. One needed financial backing to train as a barrister, something she did not have, and although her tutor had suggested a legal career in industry she had not been interested. Without a proper legal training she would always have remained in a junior position in a large department. That wasn’t what she wanted. The law courts, the Inns of Temple, the measured, controlled world of the law; that was where she had set her sights. That was why she had settled for jobs for which she was desperately over-qualified because at least then she was breathing in the atmosphere she craved.

All through her teens she had been consumed by a desperate need to prove to the father who had rejected her what he lost in doing so. As she grew older those dreams had faded, reality taking their place, and yet she had no more been able to resist the temptation to apply for her present job, knowing it would bring her into close contact with her father, than she had been able to resist Piers’ kiss.

Working closely with her father was a bitter-sweet experience. She had long ago abandoned her adolescent dreams of winning his admiration and love and even her resentment over the way she had been rejected had eased, but there was still a measure of pain in seeing and knowing him when he did not know her.