The Millionaire's Baby

by Diana Hamilton

  And, unlike any of the other males she'd occasion­ally dated, Finn Helliar had something special going for him, something that reached deep inside her and found a responsive chord she hadn't known she pos­sessed.

  She wasn't ready to respond to any man, not in that way, least of all Finn Helliar. It would be dangerous to get more involved with him.

  Yet she hated him, didn't she? Surely that should be safeguard enough?

  Grinding her teeth with rage over her own lack of decision, she got to her feet and stamped over to the window, looking out, and wished she hadn't because Finn was there in the garden, hunkered down on the soft green grass, one hand steadying his baby, the other pointing to one of the heavily flowered rose bushes.

  He was shaking his head, pointing to the bush, ob­viously teaching the child one of life's most salutary lessons. That roses have thorns.

  He stood, clasping Sophie's small hand, and they continued their slow discovery of the garden, and Caro's stomach muscles contracted as her eyes swept the hard, wide lines of his shoulders, the taut narrow­ness of his waist and hips. And the way the denim fabric hugged his thighs made something stab pain­fully deep inside her.

  She turned away, her fingers gripping the edge of the small chest of drawers, her eyes tightly closed as she fought to gain some control of her stupidly way­ward senses.

  She was mad to let the man's undoubted sex appeal get to her this way! He used that damned sensual cha­risma like a weapon and left bleeding hearts behind.

  Why else should his wife of a mere two years be conspicuous by her absence, leaving him to make ma­jor decisions—hiring a nanny for their beautiful little daughter, choosing where they would live—if she weren't away somewhere, hurt and disenchanted?

  And she only had to remember Katie, the vulner­ability of her ashen face, the shadows of pain and distress in her haunted eyes, when she'd told her what

  had happened...

  * * *

  Caro had just settled into the new partnership and was putting the finishing touches to the flat in Highgate she'd moved into, relishing having her own space af­ter sharing with two other students while she'd been doing her business studies course, when her mother phoned, sounding frantic.

  'You must come home this weekend.'

  An anxious frown pulled Caro's brows together. Her mother never insisted on anything; she was more than happy to allow everyone else to do their own thing, in their own way, because it made life much simpler. 'Is anything wrong?' She knew something must be.

  'It's Katie. I can't get through to her, but you could. She listens to you. And I daren't tell your grand­mother—you know what she's like.' It all came rush­ing out, like a torrent when a dam had been breached, the words almost tumbling over themselves. 'She's been in bed for days, ever since the accident—I thought it was an accident but now I'm not so sure. She won't get up. Just lies there. Won't eat. If I ask her what's wrong she says, "Nothing," and turns her face to the wall. She won't look at me, or tell me anything. She's always crying. Say one word and she bursts into tears.'

  'What accident?'

  'She fell into Quarry Lake; at least that's what I assumed happened. If David Parker hadn't been in the vicinity and jumped in to pull her out, she never would have survived. She was always too afraid of water to learn to swim properly.'

  Caro gave an involuntary shudder. The lake, the site of a long-abandoned quarry on the northern rim of the family estate, was a sinister place; the tree-hung area always seemed cold, even in mid-summer, the still waters dark and deep.

  'She's probably still in shock,' she told her mother reassuringly. 'Do try not to worry. I'll drive down this afternoon and if she's not showing signs of getting back to normal by the morning we'll call the doctor in and get him to check her over.'

  Privately thinking her parent should have consulted Dr Grice immediately after the accident, Caro aborted her plans for enjoying her new flat this weekend and drove home. Ever since she'd been around ten years old and had developed a mind of her own, she'd been making most of the decisions for her family, as well as defending them against the sharp tongue of her grandmother.

  Gran called her daughter-in-law and younger grandchild simpering fools and only tolerated their presence in the lodge because she could keep an eye on them, tell them what to do, keeping a tight hold on the family purse-strings, keeping them dependent because, as Caro suspected, it gave her a sense of power.

  Springing to her small family's defence, Caro had coldly pointed out that her mother and sister were not fools, simpering or otherwise. They were sweet-natured, both of them. Shy but loving. And terrified of her. And who in their right mind wouldn't be?

  'You, for one!' the old lady had snorted, her faded eyes approving. 'I've never been afraid of anything in my life. You're a chip off the old block, I'm relieved to say!'

  Caro devoutly hoped she wasn't. True, she knew what she wanted and went all out to get it, but she hoped she would never develop into such a cantan­kerous old biddy!

  Smiling ruefully, she pulled up on the drive of the lodge, confident that Katie was suffering nothing worse than the aftermath of falling into the lake, a place she had always avoided when they'd been chil­dren together roaming the estate. She must at least have got rid of some of her childhood antipathy to the area to have chosen to walk there...

  For once her confidence was misplaced. Katie looked even worse than their mother had intimated. Alone with her, Caro opened the bedroom curtains, letting in the sunlight, and Katie flinched, hiding her face in her hands, turning her head away.

  Consciously trying not to frown worriedly, Caro sat on the edge of her sister's bed and said gently, 'Mum told me you had an accident—fell in the lake of all places!' And she had all the breath knocked out of her body when Katie launched herself at her, clinging, holding her tight, sobbing as if her heart would break.

  'Hey!' Caro said softly when the storm at last died down. 'What's all this about, sweetie? So you fell in the water, and that would have been a shock, but Dave was on hand to pull you out, so no harm done.' She smiled reassuringly, but Katie wouldn't have seen that because her head was bowed. 'I can only suggest that if you go for a walk in the direction of the lake again you take Dave with you! He's so nice, don't you think?' Gently, she tucked her fingers beneath her sis­ter's chin, forcing her to look at her. And what she saw appalled her.

  Although Katie had had her eighteenth birthday only a few short weeks ago, her eyes had always been childishly wide and innocent. Now they looked old, weary beyond measure, shadowed by dark circles, her once smoothly pretty cheeks fallen in, making her look gaunt, her peaches-and-cream complexion a dis­maying ash-grey.

  'I don't care if Dave rescued me. No big deal.' Tears brimmed her eyes again. 'I don't care if I went in the water—don't you understand? I don't care about anything. Not now. Not ever again!'

  Ice closed around Caro's heart. 'Is that your way of saying it wasn't an accident? You didn't find your­self down at the lakeside by mistake, and somehow tumble in?'

  Katie lifted her head and looked at her blankly, then lowered her eyes, muttering almost inaudibly, 'What do you think?'

  Caro didn't know what to think but she wasn't go­ing to say so. Instead she asked, 'Can you tell me why you can't care about anything?'

  'I loved him. I thought he loved me,' she answered quaveringly. Shakily, she reached for the night table and took a piece of carefully folded newsprint from the drawer, holding it out. 'Then I saw this.'

  It was a wedding shot. Caro scanned the accom­panying text. A very eminent banker and his new bride. A very handsome banker by the name of Finn Helliar. The surname rang bells, but faintly. His lovely bride was Fleur Ferrand, a previously obscure French singer who had recently shot to public rec­ognition.

  'They're having a baby; it says so. Going to live—live in Canada.' Katie's voice wobbled omi­nously.

  'This is the man you thought you were in love with?'

  'I didn't t
hink I was. I was in love with him. I am in love with him,' Katie said on a reassuringly muti­nous note, showing a smidgen of spirit at last, much to Caro's relief. 'And I truly believed he loved me. He was so kind, that day, you wouldn't believe. Oh, he did say he thought I was a bit young. After all, I was still only seventeen, but, like I told him, I was nearly eighteen and old enough to do what I wanted.'

  'What day was that?' Caro asked as levelly as she could. What could a thirty-two-year-old successful banker be wanting with a seventeen-year-old virgin barely out of the schoolroom?

  Silly question!

  Tears brimmed and fell. 'The last day. The last day I saw him. He was going to be out of the country for a while. We were in his flat. He took me there,' she said ingenuously. 'My blouse was all torn. He couldn't have been sweeter. He even phoned through to his office and got his secretary to buy me a new one, and bring it round. He was the only person ever to make me feel special, and important—other than you and Mum, of course.'

  'I'm going to fix us a hot drink.' Caro couldn't stay in the room a moment longer, not without giving vent to the red-hot anger that was consuming her.

  'Don't want anything.' Katie was pleating the sheets in shaky fingers.

  'Yes, you do. We both do. Then you can tell me more about it.'

  Her mother caught up with her in the kitchen while she was heating milk for cocoa. Caro hated the stuff but would gladly drink gallons if only to persuade Katie to take the first nourishment she'd had for days, apparently.

  'How is she?' Pretty and pale with anxiety, Emma Farr hovered in the doorway and Caro answered briskly.

  'Not good, but she'll get better; just give it time. It's not the after-effects of tumbling into the lake.' No way would she confide that Katie had as good as ad­mitted she'd tried to drown herself. 'Actually, she's suffering from a first love affair that went wrong.' The more innocuous she made it sound, the better her mother would be able to cope.

  'Don't try to get her to talk about it; she'll tell you in her own good time. And what I suggest is that you take her on a long holiday, see new places and faces and have fun. I'll square the cost of it with Gran, and you'll both need new clothes. Lots of them. I'll square that, too. I'll make the bookings on Monday. A world cruise suit you? All you have to do is make sure your passports are up to date and drag Katie out to buy those new glad rags.'

  It was difficult to persuade her sister to take that extended holiday, but she managed it. Nevertheless it took ages for the young girl to get back to her normal, sweetly contented self.

  Finn Helliar had left scars that took a long time to heal. And Caro wasn't able to discover much more about the shameful affair. Katie was vague about how and where they'd met, saying it didn't matter—noth­ing mattered now, did it?

  * * *

  Caro opened her eyes, squeezed tightly closed for too long, as the familiar anger came surging back.

  Finn Helliar was a louse. Seducing an innocent sev­enteen-year-old and walking away to marry the woman who was carrying his baby! And how sweet of him to go to the enormous trouble and expense of getting his secretary to replace the blouse he'd torn in his uncontrollable lust!

  He would pay for that! And Caroline Fair knew exactly how she would make it happen!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The dazzling blue of the sky, coupled with the sheer brilliance of the midsummer sunlight, was such a con­trast to the darkness of Caro's recent thoughts, it made her feel dizzy.

  The sensual warmth of the sun on her bare arms, the caress of the light breeze as it moulded the soft, floaty cotton of her cream-coloured skirt around her legs and the scented freshness of the air all combined to make her poor head spin.

  Or had the dizziness, the frightening feeling of not being in complete control, got something to do with the way Finn turned and looked at her as she walked—strangely hesitant now—down the path to where he stood on the curving lawn?

  Just looked at her with that spine-prickling, breath-snagging expression in his smouldering silver eyes, straightening up slowly. The child was at his feet, contentedly playing with a handful of daisies, oblivious to the tension Caro could taste on every trembling breath of air she pulled into her lungs.

  'Entrancing,' he murmured at last, his voice so low she wondered if she'd imagined the compliment on her appearance.

  She wasn't wearing a nanny get-up, quite deliber­ately. Prison-warder outfits didn't fit the bill for what she had in mind. So she'd chosen this floaty, almost transparent skirt, a soft coffee-coloured camisole top and a pair of strappy sandals designed to emphasise the arch of her instep. And the height of the heels had to be responsible for the way her body seemed to sway...

  'Thank you.' She even managed to smile, just a little. Managed to curb the impulse to run right out of his life, or tell him precisely what she thought of him. Doing either of those things would be a mistake and ruin the game before play had started.

  'Let's investigate what the village stores have to offer in the way of provisions.' Finn lifted Sophie into his arms, pulled a daisy stalk out of her mouth and tilted an enquiring brow at the hired nanny who defi­nitely looked good enough to eat.

  It had been his sensible intention to suggest she stay here with his daughter, allowing them both the time to get to feel at home with the cottage and garden while he drove into the village to stock up with what they'd need for the next day or so.

  But sense, it would appear, had flown out of sight. He didn't want to leave her behind. He wanted her with him. Because the question of why she was in his employ at all and inexpertly posing as a qualified nanny intrigued him? Or did it go further than that? He knew darn well it went further than that. 'OK.' The smile she gave him was warm and win­ning and he caught his breath, wanting more, wanting to drown in the enticing fascination of that smile, but she turned, depriving him of the opportunity, and he followed her back along the path.

  He locked the cottage door and strode across the gravel to the parked car. Sophie, now comfortably strapped into her seat, was about to fall asleep, and one of the loveliest young women he had ever had the good fortune to set eyes on was waiting for him in the passenger seat.

  Life was good!

  So, the day was good, his mood was better—no need at this stage to try to force the truth from her. Leave it. This was a day to be enjoyed, savoured, one of those perfect days the English summer came up with every now and then, and Caroline Farr—appar­ently discarding her prickles and suddenly in holiday mood—was too exquisitely entrancing to frighten away with pushy questions.

  'I only hope the whole village doesn't close down at lunchtime!' A sideways smile into her eyes as he turned the key in the ignition met with a sudden, un­expected flash of wariness, a slight quick frown which was successfully hidden by the way she immediately swung her head round, staring out of the passenger window.

  He frowned, his shrug negligible, a barely percep­tible upward drift of his shoulders before he released the handbrake and drove the vehicle onto the narrow country lane at a carefully sober pace.

  The relaxed holiday mood of hers hadn't lasted long. Pity. He would have enjoyed relaxing with her, drawing her out, getting to know her.

  But something had obviously wound her up, made her regroup those prickly defences.

  Had she become suddenly conscious of letting go, of actually enjoying the day and the company, then, because of that, become fearful that she might be un­wary enough to confess whatever troubles had brought her into his employ in the first place? Only time and patience on his part would tell.

  'If the village shops prove hopeless I'll try further afield.' As soon as that spineless inanity was out of his mouth Finn could have bitten his tongue off. He sounded like an old woman, harping on about provi­sions and shopping! It wasn't the sort of conversation he wanted to have with her at all!

  'I'm sure that won't be necessary. We're not going to be around for long so I guess we can survive on the basics.' Caro forced herself to speak lightly e
ven though her throat was tightening, her pulses thudding. Her stupid heart had leapt like a landed fish, her whole body and mind panicking, when he'd smiled into her eyes back there.

  Panicking because, much as she would like to be able to, she couldn't deny the way her wretched body had responded to those wicked, come-to-bed eyes.

  Although the whole object of the exercise was to give him the impression that that was exactly what was happening to her, it had to be make-believe, not sickeningly terrifying reality!

  She dared not come anywhere near responding to him in any way—except in revulsion and disgust and utter, utter contempt! Unfortunately, she was unusu­ally vulnerable as far as he was concerned. It meant she had to be permanently on her guard.

  She gave him a contrived wide-eyed look, horribly aware of the rapid, suffocating beats of her heart. 'If it would help I'll cope with the catering while we're here, and leave you free to house-hunt, or whatever.'

  Didn't they say the way to a man's heart was through his stomach? And wasn't she a great cook?

  She barely knew one end of a baby from another but she knew her way around a kitchen. If all else failed she could try to grab his interest via her culinary skills.

  'Catering, viewing properties—whatever, I'd rather we did everything together.'

  Lightly spoken but an order nevertheless. It kept her silent while he negotiated the narrow high street. The tone of his voice had been an unveiled caress. It sent shivers down her spine.

  Fear, distaste, whatever. One thing she did now know: if she returned the right signals the game would be on.

  She waited until he'd parked in the shade of one of the oak trees that bordered the village green, then gathered up all of her courage and lightly touched his bare forearm with the tips of her fingers.