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‘That’s not what I said.’ He moved towards the front door and then turned to her. ‘I’m going to fetch my case from the car,’ he said with a cold smile that didn’t contain the remotest hint of humour. ‘Don’t even think of slamming that door shut behind me.’
Corinna didn’t say anything. She was still in a state of semi-shock, brought on, she decided, by the fact that he had appeared like a ghostly materialisation on the doorstep at the very moment she had been wondering about him. In a very short while the shock would wear off and she would be able to respond to him in a more controlled manner. In her profession, self-control was instilled as part of the training process and it wouldn’t let her down.
He returned from the car with a tan leather holdall which he dumped on the ground, and she eyed it with resentment.
‘I’m not about to carry that upstairs for you, like a porter,’ she informed him, and was subjected to another of those freezing, ironic observations.
‘I don’t recall having asked. Or maybe you fancy yourself as a mind reader, as well as keeper of the house.’
‘I don’t fancy myself as anything of the sort!’ she spluttered angrily, but he had turned away and was walking in the direction from which she had just come, towards the drawing-room, looking around him on the way.
She followed him, half running to keep up, with her arms folded across her chest.
‘You can’t just waltz in here——’ she began, and he
spun around to face her.
‘And why not?’ he asked coldly.
‘Because,’ she said nervously, ‘because it’s late and you should really come back tomorrow if you want to see your father. He’s normally up and about by nine-thirty. I’ll tell him you called.’
‘You mean you’ll warn him.’ His lips stretched into an icy mimicry of a smile. ‘No, thanks.’
He had very long legs. He stretched them out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, clasping his hands behind his head.
‘I feel as though I’ve never been away from here,’ he said to himself, flicking those sharp grey eyes around and taking in everything. There was nothing, she decided uncomfortably, that this man missed. ‘Nothing’s changed at all; even those two pictures are in precisely the same place.’
‘Nothing has to change!’ Corinna said, hovering by the door.
She could tell immediately that he had temporarily forgotten about her presence and she wished that she had not reminded him of it because she was once again subjected to the brunt of that disturbing, hostile stare. He eyed her shortly and then commanded her to sit down. With some surprise, she found herself obeying, tentatively perching on the chair furthest away from him, a fact which didn’t escape him from the look on his face.
‘I’m glad I arrived when I did,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘No one about. No one but you.’ There was something a little forbidding about the way he said that, and she shivered. ‘It gives us the opportunity to chat.’
This man was arrogant, menacing and far too good-looking. Just the sort of man, she thought uneasily, that she had spent a lifetime conscientiously avoiding. Her father had been arrogant, good-looking, a magnet for other women. Over the years she had managed to submerge her feelings about her childhood into some safe, dark corner where she had firmly closed the door and, she had thought, thrown away the key. Now, though, memories rose up from those secret depths, memories of her father accusing her mother of having affairs, wild arguments in which they made no attempt to lower their voices, her mother shouting that what could he expect when he was fooling around behind her back as well? Antonio Silver, her inner voice told her, was a dangerous man.
‘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 (#ulink_ae0cd815-9f02-5596-8d81-e207f01fa3a2)
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.
