A Thorn In Paradise

‘You’re very protective about my father, aren’t you?’ His voice brought her hurtling back into the present.

‘Yes, I am. I happen to be very fond of him.’

‘So I gathered.’

She gave him a guarded, bewildered look and received another of those humourless smiles.

‘I take it you’re wondering what my source of information is?’ he asked, and she didn’t answer. She was getting more nervous by the minute. Where was her training when she needed it? she wondered crossly. She had spent years masking her expression with her patients, careful never to reveal too much, and with the doctors when their opinions had not coincided with her own, always cautious, always careful, and now here she was, red-faced and ill at ease.

‘Angus McBride,’ he said shortly, as if that should have explained everything, and she continued to look at him in uneasy bewilderment.

‘Angus McBride told you…what?’ Angus McBride was one of Benjamin’s oldest friends. A lawyer who practised in the Midlands, he called in to visit whenever he was down south, which wasn’t all that often. Corinna had liked him on sight. He was a small, thin man with a cheerful, shrewd face who didn’t lack the courage to chide his friend for, as he put it, wasting his intellect away in the confines of Deanbridge House.

‘Wrote and told me about you.’

‘I had no idea that you kept in touch with anyone connected with your father.’

‘And what other sweeping observations have you got on me?’ he asked, staring at her from under his lashes.

‘It wasn’t a sweeping observation,’ Corinna defended. ‘It’s just that from the way your father spoke…’

His grey eyes narrowed to slits and another wave of colour flooded over her. She would have to get her house in order, she thought, if she weren’t to find herself completely obliterated by this man.

‘So my father and you have been having lengthy discussions about me. Cosy.’

‘That’s not what I meant!’ She stood up, agitated. ‘You’re putting words into my mouth! Your father and I haven’t discussed you! I mean, your father talks about you now and again, but I don’t respond. It’s none of my business what goes on between the two of you! But I can’t believe that Angus would write to you and tell tales.’

‘Whoever mentioned telling tales? He’s the family lawyer and we’ve kept in touch over the years. He wrote to me a few months ago telling me about you, or at any rate about a nurse who had started working for my father. Since then your name has cropped up several times, in the most glowing of terms, might I add.’

‘I don’t see what you’re getting at.’

‘Don’t you? You don’t strike me as a stupid girl. Well, to ease you out of your bewilderment, let me just put it like this. My father is a very wealthy man. This house alone is worth a small fortune and he has other properties as well, quite a few of them dotted throughout London and all carrying very respectable price tags on them.’

Corinna didn’t let him finish. She stormed towards him, her hands on her hips and looked down at that arrogant, dark head furiously.

‘So I’m after your father’s money, is that it?’ She gave him a scathing look. ‘I would be insulted by that accusation if it came from anyone else but you! As far as I’m concerned, you’re not exactly qualified to troop along here and accuse me of anything, considering you haven’t seen fit to set foot in this house for God knows how many years! You’re hardly the loving son, are you?’

She should have guessed that he wouldn’t take too kindly to insults. He had the easygoing friendliness of a python, after all, and his hand snapped out to hold her by the wrist while he stared at her disdainfully.

‘Spare me your observations on my character,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Why should I?’ Corinna asked with equal hostility. ‘I haven’t noticed you sparing me your observations on my character!’

He released her abruptly and she massaged her wrist, trying to get the blood circulation going again.

‘Why should I?’ he asked too, standing up and prowling round the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Corinna followed his movements reluctantly. He moved with the easy grace of someone who was well aware of the physical impact of his presence. He was a tall man, well over six feet, and he carried his height with a confidence that sent a shiver of alarm running through her. She couldn’t remember ever following Michael’s movements with this avidity and she tore her eyes away with a stern reminder to herself that not only was this man highly objectionable, the stuff of nightmares in fact, but he was also insulting and offensive. And she had been stupid enough to give him the benefit of the doubt by imagining that his father had exaggerated his flaws. If anything he had understated them.

He had stopped in front of the marble mantelpiece and he turned to look at her from across the room. It took enormous effort to steel herself against the scrutiny. It was like being cross-examined, she thought, and, worse, it made her feel guilty, as though she had something to hide, when in fact she didn’t.

‘I’m not the intruder,’ he said. ‘My last name is Silver.’

‘What a charming way with introductions you have,’ Corinna threw at him. ‘Are you usually such a sociable character?’

‘When it comes to women like you, I don’t see the necessity for polite exchanges. Bluntness is the only tool you types understand.’

‘Women like me? Types?’ she all but shouted. No one had ever made her so angry in her life before. She had always been a very controlled person, not given to displays of temper. In fact, she found displays of temper alarming and often unnecessary, uneasy reminders of her childhood spent on her parents’ battleground. So it amazed her that this perfect stranger had managed to antagonise her to the point where she felt very much inclined to reach for the nearest heavy object and sling it at him. She took a few steadying breaths and said carefully, ‘I don’t have to stand for this. It’s hardly my fault if you swan in here, in the middle of the night, acting as though you’ve caught me trying to steal the family silver. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the intruder. You haven’t contacted your father in years, not even so much as a Christmas card, and——’

‘You seem to have mastered the fine art of jumping to conclusions,’ he threw at her forcefully.

‘Your father told me——’

‘I’m sick of hearing what my father told you! Do you actually have any time to do the work you’re presumably paid for in between all these riveting conversations you appear to have with him?’

Corinna stared at him furiously, bereft of speech. It wasn’t fair, she thought, Antonio Silver should be middle-aged, he should be overweight and dull. She would have been able to cope with overweight and dull.

‘It’s late,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She turned on her heel but she hadn’t made it to the door when he was in front of her, barring her exit. She hadn’t even heard him move. Businessman? she thought sourly. This man was a businessman? Terrorist more likely.

‘You’re not going anywhere until I’m through with you.’

‘Until you’re through with me?’ she asked, glaring up at him. Her long hair was in its habitual plait. It had swung over her shoulder and lay on her breast like a silver rope. ‘Until you’re through with me? Just who do you think you are?’

‘Someone you should be afraid of, someone who isn’t about to be taken in by those big eyes and reassuring bedside manner which, I suspect, you’ve been laying on thick ever since you set foot into this house! You’ve already shown me the roar behind that carefully nurtured mousy façade. God knows, I’m surprised you don’t play havoc with his blood-pressure.’

Their eyes clashed and she was the first to look away. Very hurriedly. Up this close she could almost breathe in his masculinity. It seemed to go straight to her head like incense, making her feel giddy and unstable on her feet.

‘Not as much as you will,’ she muttered, and he leaned towards her, as if trying to ascertain what she had said. She found herself tempted to step backwards.

‘What was that?’

‘I said that I’d better show you to your room if you intend to spend the night here.’

‘Now whatever gave you the idea that I intended spending the night here?’

‘Your bag?’ she said in the tone of someone talking to a complete idiot, and she was pleased to find that there wasn’t a hint of a tremor in her voice, even though her hands were trembling. ‘The fact that it’s gone midnight and you’d be hard pressed to find anywhere else to stay?’

He didn’t appear in the least put out by her tone, though.

‘Oh, you’re on the wrong tack,’ he said with a cool smile, and she brightened.

‘You mean you won’t be staying here?’ That would please Benjamin no end, she thought, because if his son was going to be under the same roof, then who knew what sort of problems would arise? He would never stand for it, she knew. He would collapse on the spot, or else have Edna throw him out on his ear. She eyed Antonio sceptically. No, perhaps not. Even ferocious Edna had her limits.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said casually, killing her short-lived optimism. ‘But not for one night. I’m here for an indefinite length of time.’

‘An indefinite length of time?’ she repeated, dismayed, and he smiled slowly at her discomfiture.

‘I can see you find the prospect appealing.’

Appealing? Corinna thought faintly. Was the prospect of death by slow torture appealing? Was a charging bull appealing?

‘But you haven’t brought enough luggage,’ she said faintly.

‘There are two cases in the car,’ he said, and she could see that he was deriving cruel amusement at her expense. ‘And before you launch into another speech on the definition of your duties, I don’t expect you to carry them up to the bedroom for me. We wouldn’t want you to sully your fair hands with such a menial task, would we?’

‘But why?’ she asked, ignoring the sneer with effort. ‘Why have you suddenly decided to come to England and moreover stay under the same roof as your father?’

‘Two reasons, my dear Miss Steadman. The first is because one of my companies is opening a subsidiary over here, not terribly far away from Deanbridge House, in fact, in Guildford.’

‘And the second?’

‘The second,’ he said softly, there was open threat in his voice, ‘is so that I can keep an eye on you. We wouldn’t want you to start getting ideas beyond your station, now, would we?’

CHAPTER TWO

CORINNA had no idea how she managed to get to sleep. By the time her head had hit the pillow, she had been positively shaking with anger. She couldn’t remember ever having been so riled by anyone in her life before. Her wonderful self-control, which she was convinced would stand her in good stead despite having deserted her initially, remained conspicuous by its absence, and she could have screamed in frustration as she lay down under the quilt and tried to court sleep. It was a long time coming, though. Her head was too full of images of Antonio Silver.

The following morning she got up and all those images which had seared her mind the previous night rushed back to her in sickening detail.

It was not a great way to start the day. For the past few months, after she had become accustomed to living in Deanbridge House, she had awakened slowly and contentedly, never failing to be charmed by the mintgreen luxury of the bedroom with its heavy drapes cascading to the floor, the exquisite pieces of furniture, the cool softness of the beige-coloured carpet underfoot.

This morning she found herself not giving a moment’s thought to her surroundings and she made herself slow down. This man, she decided, was not going to get under her skin again. He had managed that the night before because he had caught her unawares, when she was tired and vulnerable and unable to defend herself, but today he would find himself facing an altogether different cup of tea.

She took her time dressing, brushing her long hair carefully and knotting it behind her head in a chignon, by far the most practical hairstyle for her. She never wore a nurse’s uniform, having been informed by Benjamin on day one that he wouldn’t tolerate her clumping around in heavy shoes and a starchy white frock, but she always made sure that she dressed smartly. Never trousers and never shorts, despite the fact that it was quite hot at the moment. She had a good supply of sober, unfussy skirts and blouses and she extracted an oatmeal skirt from the wardrobe and a crisp, beige short-sleeved shirt, then looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Nothing, she acknowledged realistically, to write home about. She supposed she wasn’t bad-looking in an average sort of way, but for the first time since she had started working for Benjamin she realised that her wardrobe didn’t do a great deal for her. With her fair complexion she needed to wear things that were dramatic, that put colour in her cheeks, instead of a selection of background outfits that made her appear drained.

How was it that she was only now noticing this trait? Mousy. That was what he had called her. Had she cultivated this drabness as a subconscious reaction to her mother? It seemed likely, and she felt an unexpected anger that circumstances could mould a person so completely. Her parents’ divorce had been a background tune playing in the back of her mind for as long as she could remember. Too long.

On the spur of the moment she added a touch of blusher to her cheeks and then frowned impatiently at herself.

Would Benjamin have been notified of Antonio’s presence? she wondered, as she walked briskly down the corridor towards his bedroom. She had deliberately taken her time this morning because she didn’t want to appear over-keen to find out, but she was dying of curiosity.

As soon as she entered the bedroom she was aware that he had already heard the bad news. The curtains had not been drawn back, and that was usually the first thing he did in the morning, and the room was in darkness. He was lying on the bed and she approached him tentatively.

‘Good morning, Benjamin,’ she said brightly, moving to pull the curtains, and he said in a woebegone voice,

‘Why bother? I won’t be getting out of bed this morning.’

She ignored that and drew back the curtains, letting in a flood of early morning sunshine.

‘Come along,’ she said with a beaming smile, and he glared at her.

‘And you can stop being chirpy. That—that son of mine has dared to cross the threshold of this house!’ The woebegone expression was beginning to lift and some of his ranting energies were back in place.

‘I know,’ Corinna said quietly, tidying up the room, even though one of the girls would later be coming in to clean.

‘You know!’ he roared. ‘You know and you didn’t even tell me?’

‘He arrived very late last night,’ she said, trying not to let her memory of that disastrous encounter show on her face. ‘Just as I was about to retire for the evening, in fact.’

‘Typical!’ Benjamin roared with some of his usual fire. ‘Typical! Never spares so much as a passing thought to anyone else! Typical!’

‘And how do you find out about his arrival?’ She busied herself stacking his books into a neat pile on the long, low table by the window.

‘Edna. Trooping up here at the crack of dawn to break the happy news! Damned woman thought that I’d be delighted, even though I’ve spent years making it perfectly clear how I felt about him! What a fool! Ruined my day, of course. I couldn’t touch a mouthful of my breakfast, and I’m certainly not coming downstairs. Not until he’s well and truly out of the place!’

He glared at her aggressively and she tried to give him a soothing, professional smile.

‘He doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to leave,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, and he shot her a baleful look.

‘He’ll be in a hurry,’ Benjamin said, flapping his arms about and looking quite comical. ‘Oh, he’ll be in a hurry when I set the dogs—the—Edna—the police on him!’

Personally Corinna didn’t think that the police would feel much inclined to storm the place and capture Antonio Silver by force simply because his father didn’t want him around, but she refrained from saying anything.

‘You can’t stay in bed all day,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘You’ll be bored stiff in under an hour. Besides, I may take you for walks in your wheelchair, but you know that you need to exercise your limbs by walking around the house. You know what the doctor said——’

‘I refuse to budge. I don’t care what you or that quack of a doctor says.’

‘Dr Harman isn’t a quack, in fact, he’s noted——’

‘Noted, boted,’ Benjamin cut in with rising irritation. ‘I’m not budging. Though why I should be a prisoner in my own home I fail to understand. This is my home, dammit! How dare he walk in here and shut me up in my bedroom? You’ll have to get him out!’

‘What, me?’ She stopped what she was doing and then looked wryly at him as he gave her a sly smile.

‘So, I see he’s got to you, has he? What did you think of him, then?’

‘If you must know,’ she said calmly, ‘I thought he was overbearing, arrogant and unpleasant.’

‘But good-looking, eh? He used to be damned fine-looking when I last saw him. What does he look like now?’ He glanced down at his gnarled fingers and then clasped them on his lap, continuing to peer at them with overdone fascination.

‘Passable,’ Corinna said. She extracted some clothes from his wardrobe and laid them out on the bed. Grey flannel trousers, a pale blue long-sleeved shirt because Benjamin had no time for short-sleeved shirts, whatever the weather, a pair of charcoal-grey socks.

She could feel her heart step up a beat as she remembered Antonio Silver’s formidable physical impact. In the cold light of day he was probably nowhere as overwhelming as he had appeared the night before, but she still couldn’t prevent the tell-tale flush of colour on her cheeks.

Benjamin, though, wasn’t looking at her. He was still peering at his hands.

‘Well, I won’t see him,’ he said finally, ‘so you might as well put those clothes right where you found them.’

‘Now don’t be silly,’ she began, and he lay down on his side and pretended that she wasn’t there. She wasn’t at all perturbed by this reaction. Benjamin Silver could be childishly truculent at times. He had a fine, sharp mind that had been blunted by disuse. Too little mental stimulation filled him with an energy which his body did not allow him to exhaust and his way of coping was to try and rule the roost around him. Angus McBride was right, he needed more than the walls of Deanbridge House to fill his days.

‘You’ll have to face him some time,’ she said bluntly. ‘He doesn’t look like the type who’s going to disappear just because you want him to. I know that it’s your house, but honestly, what can you do? You’ll just have to face him.’

‘Did he say why he’d come?’ he asked in a muffled voice, and she stiffened, recalling the conversation with a feeling of remembered unpleasantness.

‘That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him,’ she said, looking down, and he rolled over to face her.

‘My curiosity isn’t that great,’ he informed her loftily and she shrugged. She was beginning to feel like piggy in the middle and it was a feeling for which she had no taste. Why did Antonio Silver have to appear on the scene? Things were going so smoothly in her life. For the first time in ages, she felt truly relaxed, having quit her job and left Michael, two aspects of her life which she only realised in retrospect had been pulling her down. Why had he come along and spoilt everything with his accusations and his sophisticated mockery?

She opened her mouth to inform him that there was no way that she was going to play intermediary, but before she could speak he was waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

‘Shoo!’ he said. ‘Have the day off. Just so long as you keep that so-called son of mine out of my hair!’

With a cross sigh of defeat, she left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

There was a parlour which had been specifically designed to be used as a breakfast-room, but neither she nor Benjamin ever used it in that capacity. The kitchen was a much warmer place. It was Edna’s pride and joy and in the entire house it was the one room to which no concessions to glamour had been made. Only the cooking utensils were the best that money could buy, because Edna prided herself on her cooking. She never allowed any of the girls to help her, cultivated her own personal herb garden, and produced simple but lovely fare. She was a great fan of the roast meal, and detested things with too much cream or alcohol as being travesties of good cooking.

‘Sure road to indigestion,’ she was fond of saying. Benjamin, of course, was wont to inform her that she was clearly behind the times, but he too preferred simple cooking, so the arrangement suited him perfectly.

Corinna walked into the kitchen wearing a frown of concentration and immediately stopped dead in her tracks. She had all but convinced herself that Antonio Silver was only an ordinary human being, a mere mortal with no more than a bit of an acid temperament, but seeing him now, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee in front of him, casually dressed in a beige shirt which had been rolled to the elbows to expose his strong forearms, she felt a sudden urge to turn tail and flee. He was every bit as commanding as her very worst memories. In the light of day, she could see that every bone in his face was stamped with hard, self-assured assertiveness. He was darker than she had thought, his skin bearing the hallmark of a life in a kinder climate, which made his silver-grey eyes appear more startling because of the contrast.

He watched her as she poured herself a cup of coffee, and, when she had sat down, he finally said politely, ‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning,’ Corinna returned awkwardly, shifting her gaze away from his probing stare. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked politely, and he raised his eyebrows as if ironically amused by the lack of sincerity in her question. The open hostility was no longer quite as apparent as it had been the night before, but it was still there, of that she had no doubt, simmering away under the surface, temporarily replaced by an equally disconcerting iciness. If only that could distract her from his intense physical appeal, but she was alarmed to find that her body was reacting to his blatant masculinity with edgy awareness.

‘I’ve had better nights,’ he returned, sipping some coffee and looking at her over the brim of the cup. ‘I trust you’ve seen my father and informed him of my presence?’

‘He already knew before I saw him this morning. Edna told him.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’ She fixed him with a blank, innocent stare. She would have preferred not to be sitting here, not to be struggling with her treacherous, racing nerves, but, since she was, she wasn’t about to indulge in open warfare. If this was a cold war, then she would play the rules of that game.

‘And what was his reaction?’

Corinna gave it some thought. Appear calm and collected, she thought, and you’ll feel calm and collected. ‘He wasn’t a hundred per cent impressed,’ she told him calmly. There was fresh bread on the table. She took a slice and buttered it, making sure not to look at him. Passable, she realised, was not an adequate description of Antonio Silver. He had the build of an athlete, his body hard and finely tuned, and a face which would make most women stop dead in their tracks, and no doubt he was very much aware of that. Conceited, she decided at once. The man was probably brimming over with conceit, as well as being thoroughly dislikeable, and conceit was hardly one of the world’s most admirable characteristics, was it?

She could feel those silver-grey eyes on her and she looked up with a polite, detached expression.