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Helena frowned. ‘I certainly have no intention of upsetting my father.’ Her voice rose sharply. Who did this man think he was anyway?
‘No, of course not.’ Tate’s voice was calm. ‘It’s just that he’s very touchy at the moment. You know Lawrence—can’t stand for anyone to tell him he’s over-doing things, He flew off the handle when the doctor suggested that he should take a vacation. And I believe he had words with Paul last week over something and nothing.’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard about that.’ Helena was quick to intercede. She wanted Tate to know that she was well aware of why Paul and her father had had words.
Something and nothing, indeed! Her brother had told her exactly what had happened, and the argument had all been due to Tate. Apparently Paul had told his father straight that Tate was leading him financially astray, and to Paul’s astonishment Lawrence had taken extreme exception to the remarks.
‘I don’t think it was over something trivial, though.’ Helena turned accusing eyes towards Tate. ‘I rather thought that it was over the fact that Pop has been taking some bad advice.’
Tate slanted a glance towards her, but instead of looking worried he merely shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue what they argued about. But, as I said, your father is suffering from the effects of stress and overwork. I’ve been trying to take some of the strain off him by sending over one of my secretaries to give him a hand.’ He shook his head. ‘But Lawrence is a stubborn fellow who doesn’t easily accept help.’
Helena was startled by this statement. Tate sounded as if he was genuinely concerned about her father. His words certainly didn’t sound like those of a man who would deliberately give misleading advice to wreck her father’s finances. But then Tate was probably a very cunning man, she reminded herself sharply.
She ran contemplative green eyes over the man beside her. She knew that Tate was ambitious and determined, and that he had a reputation for being a hard-headed businessman. According to Paul, Tate had been phenomenally successful in the five years since she had been away, but due to over-extending himself with over-ambitious plans he was suffering severe financial losses…losses he was making up by duping her father.
‘Well, it’s just as well I’ve come home,’ she answered him coolly. ‘I’m very experienced with financial problems. I’ll be able to help out—go through Pop’s accounts with a fine-tooth comb.’
‘I’m sure Lawrence will be very relieved.’
She glanced across and met his blue eyes head-on; there was a laughing gleam in them that made her temper rise sharply. ‘I can assure you that if there are any problems…any discrepancies in my father’s accounts, I will be able to find them,’ she told him in no uncertain tone.
‘Oh, I’m sure you will.’ He shook his head, the amusement on his handsome features not dying for a moment. ‘It’s just that knowing Lawrence as I do, I’m sure you’ll have your work cut out getting him to even open his accounts for you.’
Her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. So now she knew why Tate was so unconcerned by her comments. He was aware of her father’s outlook on women in the workplace and was obviously banking on the fact that she would get nowhere near her father’s books.
‘Oh, he’ll open them for me.’ Somehow she managed to inject far more confidence into her tone than she was feeling.
‘Lawrence will be disappointed when you start trying to talk business with him,’ Tate reflected as he turned the car down quiet country lanes, through rolling green countryside. ‘He’s under the impression that you’re coming home to tell him that you’re getting married.’
Her eyes widened in complete astonishment at that statement. She hadn’t told her father the real reason for this visit for the simple reason that she knew it would have annoyed him. Lawrence was a proud man, and he would have been severely embarrassed if he’d thought that Helena was coming home because Paul had told her that he was in a financial mess. But why he should think that she was getting married completely baffled her.
‘What on earth has given him that idea?’ she murmured, with a perplexed shake of her head.
‘Might have something to do with the fact that you haven’t visited in five years and now you are suddenly descending out of the blue with very little warning.’
Helena frowned. Was it her imagination, or was there a note of censure in his tone? ‘I haven’t been home because I haven’t been able to get sufficient time off work,’ she said stiffly. This wasn’t true, but she was damned if she was going to start delving into her personal life to answer his nosy questions.
‘So your reasons for not coming home before now are nothing to do with Cass?’
The outrageously personal question took her breath away. ‘Certainly not!’ It was appalling how the mere mention of Cass’s name could send a sharp frisson of electricity through her body. That man had hurt her so much that it was painful just to think of him. ‘I—I don’t even know what you mean by that statement,’ she muttered nervously.
He laughed at that. ‘Come on, Helena, I saw you crying your eyes out over him…remember?’
Helena’s heart thudded wildly at the reminder of such a distressing moment. With difficulty she closed her mind on the memory and summoned an air of indifference. ‘That’s all a very long time ago. I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned it.’
‘Oh, I see.’ The amusement in his tone very nearly threatened to snap her composure. At that moment she would dearly have loved to tell him to go to hell.
‘So is there someone else?’ he continued on casually.
With great difficulty she refrained from telling him to mind his own business. ‘I’m not coming home to tell Pop that I’m getting married,’ she said stiffly. ‘Does that answer your question?’
‘Not really.’ He grinned. ‘But it will do for now.’
He turned the car through the gateway to her home, distracting her thoughts. Her eyes moved eagerly over the fields of sugar cane shimmering in the heat of the sun. She had dreamt of this moment for five long years. This was the place dearest to her heart, the place where she had grown up. She had missed it terribly.
When the large plantation house came into sight through the tall palm trees, she felt like crying for a moment. Memories of childhood stirred deep inside— memories of her mother, of happy days.
‘Glad to be back?’
Tate’s voice made her try to pull her emotions tightly m check. She nodded. ‘And relieved that it looks just the same as I remembered it.’
Tate pursed his lips. ‘Nothing stays the same forever.’
She frowned, wondering what he meant by that. ‘This house has remained relatively unchanged for generations.’
‘That’s not strictly true. Beaumont House used to receive all its income from sugar—jut as the Ainsley estate did. Now the sugar trade has declined and the plantations have turned towards other investments.’
‘I hardly need a lesson in the economy of the island, Tate,’ she told him crisply. ‘I’m well aware that the sugar trade has declined.’
‘Then you know that there have been big changes on estates like Beaumont,’ he pointed out calmly.
‘I know my father has diversified—he did that a long time ago.’ She looked at him sharply. Was he making excuses? Was he trying to tell her that her father’s problems were down to the economic climate, not to mishandling? He was cool, she had to give him that. Just what game was Tate Ainsley playing? she wondered cautiously.
‘Up until now he has done very well from his investments,’ she continued succinctly. ‘I sincerely hope that he hasn’t changed his business tactics.’ She couldn’t resist the dig. She knew damn well that her father had changed his tactics to suit Tate…with disastrous consequences. Let him try and explain himself out of that.
Tate merely laughed. ‘There speaks a true banker. “Play it safe” being the banking war cry. Let me tell you that remaining static in this economic climate is like trying to tread water in a hurricane. You have to move boldly forward with the times if you want success.’
Green eyes collided directly with his deep blue gaze. She didn’t care for his mocking tone. ‘Bold’ was a word that seemed to sit well on Tate Ainsley’s shoulders. She was willing to bet that he took some very unorthodox risks in business. ‘You can only move boldly forward if you have the means and the safety nets in place to do so,’ she told him pointedly.
He smiled at that. ‘Well, you would say that. I rest my case—you’re a member of the “play it safe” brigade.’
‘And what way do you play, Tate?’ she asked directly, an edge of incrimination in her tone.
‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night and we can discuss strategy if you like,’ he offered casually, completely unruffled by her tone.
The invitation caught her off balance, as did the gleam of taunting mirth in his deep eyes. Was he deliberately baiting her? she wondered with annoyance, because he seemed to be enjoying putting her on the spot.
‘I don’t think there would be much point in us discussing business strategy,’ she told him calmly. ‘Comparing your ideas and mine would be like comparing a fox’s idea of how to survive the winter with a squirrel’s.’
He laughed at that. It was a genuine, warm sound in the sweetly fragrant air. ‘I take it I’m the fox?’
‘What do you think?’ She grated drily, meeting his blue eyes with a look that told him most definitely that he was.
Yet underneath her stiff, instinctive antagonism to his approaches in business she had to admit in that instant to finding something very appealing about the roguish gleam m Tate Ainsley’s eye…The idea was fleeting and ludicrous, and she instantly dismissed it with severe anger. What was the matter with her? she wondered furiously. Hadn’t she learnt her lesson where men like Tate Ainsley were concerned?
She was extremely relieved when Tate pulled the car to a halt outside the house, putting an end to their conversation. As soon as the car engine stopped, the front door of the house opened and her father came out onto the wooden veranda, closely followed by Vivian. Hurriedly Helena reached for the doorhandle and stepped out to run towards him.
‘Helena, thank heavens you are home.’ Lawrence Beaumont came down the steps, and she was embraced in strong arms and held tightly.
She closed her eyes and clung to him. ‘It’s good to be home, Pop. I can’t tell you how good.’
It was a few moments before she had gathered her emotions together enough to pull away and look at her father calmly. He didn’t seem any different. A little tired, perhaps, and there was a drawn look about his face that hadn’t been there before.
Lawrence was now in his early sixties, but he still had a rugged attractiveness. His sandy-blond hair was still thick, and his body powerfully built.
‘You’ve hardly changed.’ Helena smiled through a glimmer of tears.
‘Well, that’s more than we can say about you,’ Vivian put in as she came down to join them.
Helena turned with a smile and reached to kiss her stepmother.
‘You look fabulous,’ Vivian said truthfully as they broke apart.
‘So do you.’ Helena’s eyes moved wistfully over the other woman. Vivian was wearing a speedwellblue summer dress that emphasised her superb figure. Her skin was pale and she had smouldering red lips and dark eyes. Her hair was a soft, natural blonde.
Vivian was just thirty-three years of age—it was six years since she had given up her modelling career to marry Helena’s father, but her looks certainly hadn’t diminished. If anything she was more beautiful now than she had been before.
‘Thanks for collecting Helena.’ Lawrence went to give Tate a hand with her luggage, but he waved him away.
‘I can manage,’ he said, smiling. ‘Your daughter travels light.’
‘I hope that’s not an indication of how long you’ll be staying?’ Lawrence asked, turning anxious eyes onto Helena.
‘Give me a chance to unpack before I start talking about leaving,’ Helena prevaricated with a smile.
Her father nodded, and together they moved into the house.
Overhead fans made a soft whirring sound and sent a delicious waft of air over Helena’s heated skin as she stepped into the wide hallway. The doors through to the lounge were open, and her eyes moved over the soft gold furnishings with delight. Everything was exactly as it had been when she had left.
The house was furnished almost exclusively with antiques, and stepping through the doorway was like stepping back in time to the colonial era. The floors were polished wood, and they creaked underfoot like a ship’s galley. Crystal lights made a soft tinkling sound in the gentle breeze from the fans.
‘Leave Helena’s luggage by the staircase, Tate,’ Lawrence said briskly as he moved into the lounge. ‘Come through and join us for a drink of champagne.’
‘Champagne?’ Helena watched as her father marched to where an ice-bucket and glasses had been left ready and waiting for them. Champagne hardly fitted in with the picture her brother had painted of financial troubles.
‘Tate very kindly brought it over earlier, ready for your homecoming.’
‘I see.’ Helena didn’t really see at all. Why on earth should Tate bring champagne over to welcome her home?
She glanced across and met his deep blue gaze. He was watching her, a strange, almost hooded expression in his eyes. Whatever his reasons, Helena thought in that instant, she doubted they had anything to do with generosity.
She watched as her father poured out five sparkling glasses of the frothy liquid. ‘Is Paul joining us?’ she asked hopefully.
There was a moment’s awkward silence. ‘I’ve told your brother not to come here until he gets a civil tongue in his head,’ Lawrence said in a gruff tone
Helena’s heart sank. The argument between Paul and her father had obviously been even worse than she had thought. She had hoped that they might have patched things up for her homecoming.
‘The other glass is for Mary,’ Vivian put in swiftly. ‘She’s been so excited about your return; she’s been dashing around all day, fussing and flapping to make everything perfect.’
‘She’s done everything bar kill the fatted calf,’ Tate added, a hint of dry amusement in his tone.
Was that a dig implying that she was the errant stray daughter, finally back to the fold? Helena glanced over at him, wondering again at his motivations.
‘Ah, here’s Mary now,’ Vivian said with a smile as the door swung open and a plump black woman came rushing into the room.
‘Oh, Miss Helena, you’re home!’ Mary’s voice was filled with excitement. ‘I didn’t hear the car…and I’ve been listening out for it for what seems like hours.’
‘Mary, it’s so good to see you.’ Helena smiled and went to embrace the woman who had been more than just a housekeeper at Beaumont House over the years.
When Helena’s mother had died Mary had been a close friend to Helena. She had comforted the griefstricken nine-year-old and had taken over the running of the house, becoming a mother substitute to both her and Paul when Lawrence Beaumont had been unable to cope with his own feelings of grief, let alone his children.
‘Let me look at you.’ Mary’s round face beamed with good nature as she stepped back from her. ‘My Lord, you look as pretty as a picture.’
‘Doesn’t she just?’ Much to Helena’s embarrassment, Tate was the one to agree with this statement. He lifted the champagne glasses and handed one each to Helena and Mary. ‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said, holding Helena’s gaze with steady blue eyes. ‘Welcome home, Helena. May your visit be a long and memorable one.’
Helena had a feeling it was going to be more than just memorable. She had a very strong feeling that it was going to be unforgettable.
‘Hear, hear.’ Lawrence topped the glasses up once they had taken a few sips of the golden liquid.
The sound of the telephone ringing made Mary put down her glass and hurry from the room.
‘Will you stay and have some dinner with us Tate?’ Lawrence asked.
Helena noted that her father’s voice wasn’t just polite—he sounded as if he genuinely would have welcomed the other man’s company.
Tate glanced at his watch. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got an important meeting in an hour. I really should be leaving now.’
About time, Helena thought grimly. It should be Paul joining them for dinner, not Tate Ainsley. What on earth was her father thinking of?
Lawrence nodded, obviously disappointed. Then he turned his attention towards his daughter. ‘So, Helena,’ he said bluntly, ‘put me out of my misery. Have you come home to tell us you’re getting married?’
Helena tried very hard not to blush. So Tate had been right! He seemed to be very much privy to her father’s personal thoughts, she observed with concern.
‘No, Pop,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I’ve come back to see you—there’s nothing more to it than that.’
‘Thank heavens for that,’ Lawrence said fervently. ‘Not that I don’t want you to get married—on the contrary, I think it’s high time you tied the knot and gave me some grandchildren to bounce on my knee—but I don’t want you marrying somebody miles away in London…I want you to marry someone closer to home.’ Her father’s voice was heavy with implication.
Helena felt sure that her face was crimson as she met Tate’s coolly amused glance.
She pulled her eyes away from him, angered by his air of arrogant amusement. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Pop,’ she finally managed to say in a tightly controlled voice, ‘but I’m married to my work. I’m a career girl.’
Lawrence shook his head, looking totally disgusted with such a statement.
She was extremely relieved when they were interrupted by Mary corning back into the room. ‘Phone for you, Miss Helena,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s your brother.’
‘You can take it in my office,’ Lawrence said grimly, his very tone of voice conveying how displeased he was with Paul.
Helena put down her champagne and hurried towards the hall. She was extremely anxious to talk to Paul. Perhaps now he could shed some light on the exact situation here.
