Perilous Refuge

by Patricia Wilson

  He was in the bar by himself, and he stood and came towards her when she stopped hesitantly in the entrance. 'We'll not linger here. I imagine you're more interested in tea than a drink in the bar?'

  'Yes, please.' She felt quite flustered by his change of mood, his sudden half-smile.

  'Yes, please, Ross,' he insisted, taking her arm and swinging her about. 'We'll work our way into that before the others arrive.'

  They went through to the coffee lounge and he ordered tea for both of them.

  'Bring mademoiselle a few sandwiches,' he added as the waiter left. He glanced at her. 'As you ate very little lunch you can nibble a few sandwiches now. Have you phoned home?'

  'Yes. I telephoned this morning. I...I tend to get a bit anxious when I'm not within calling distance.'

  Helen looked around the lounge, disturbed by his intent gaze and trying very hard to avoid it. Now was the time really when she should ask him outright exactly how he wanted her to behave. She had tried both ways and neither seemed to please. He appeared to have got over his annoyance and to be giving her another chance or at least getting her back into the right mood, she hastily corrected. She should ask him now, but unfortunately her nerve wasn't quite up to it.

  'Have you always lived where you live now?' He was studying her averted face, her pure profile, and his eyes remained intent and probing as she turned.

  'No. We lived in Hampshire, a very small village. We moved, though, after ...'

  She stopped as she realised she had been going to tell him about the divorce. It could have been quite spectacular if she had pressed her advantages, but she had only wanted to get away, to free herself of the fear, the humiliation, quickly. The village where they had lived had been too small for her to lose herself in the crowds there were no crowds. She wondered if Miles was still there? He probably still had the same grand house, one he could not afford. She had infuriated her solicitor by refusing to claim anything. All she had wanted was freedom and safety.

  'After you had the baby?' Ross frowned across at her, looking as if he was trying to reckon her up, probably imagining she had fled in shame.

  'No. Before then.'

  'You must have been very young, twenty-one? You're not much more than a girl now. It looks pretty obvious without your office disguise. At the moment you don't look capable of managing such a burden.'

  'She's no burden!' Instantly Helen became angry, defensive, and he looked at her impatiently.

  'I didn't mean your daughter. I meant your position as head of the family. Eat your sandwiches, Helen. Maybe if I keep quiet we'll get through the rest of the day amicably.'

  'I'm sorry. I'm a bit touchy on the subject.'

  He just nodded uninterestedly, turning his attention to his tea, and when the others came in they were sitting in silence, his attempts at conversation ended.

  The afternoon meeting was more formal, a room having been put at their disposal, and this time Ross pulled no punches. He was here for results and expected them. A package was worked out, dates fixed, prices discussed, and as they rose to leave it was clear he had taken a firm grip on their minds and whirled them along. There was a faint air of exasperation about him, a take-it-or-leave-it attitude that surprised Helen.

  'Mon Dieu, he gets worse,' Claude Thiriet murmured as they strolled out into the foyer. He took Helen's hand, tucking it under his arm, and short of wrenching herself free she could do nothing. 'I have seen him in New York and he is much the same but without this cold edge. Perhaps it is you, my dear Helen? In America the lady with him was extremely attentive. Is it possible that you are not giving him what he needs?'

  'I work for him.'

  'So did she, as far as I could tell, but she was obviously offering more than office skills. She was very affable.'

  He looked at her sideways, his glance almost openly explicit, and Helen cringed inside. How often had she had to put up with this? She blushed. She couldn't help it but it seemed to delight Claude.

  'I have it now. You are a little tease. This evening you may tease me.'

  He took her hand, kissing it with a flourish, and she looked up into cold grey eyes as Ross came across to them.

  'You can stop your act now, mon ami,' he said impatiently. 'Helen has her notes to transcribe.'

  'It is no act, Ross. Helen and I have just been planning our night.' He smiled and walked off and so did Helen.

  She couldn't work out the expression on Ross Maclean's face. It might have been approval or disgust. She was suddenly beyond caring.

  Even so, when she was placed close beside Ross at dinner, she felt pleased. It gave her some sort of status, a feeling of safety, but it did not last long. There was no way of getting out of dancing with each of them. It seemed to be expected, and Helen cursed the defiant attitude that had made her bring a dress with a low back. Their fingers seemed to be drawn to it, first the Middle East Romeo and then Claude Thiriet. She tried to ignore it and keep on smiling but inside she was almost sick, a slow fury kept down by her very bad memories. It almost seemed that she was programmed in how to cope with this sort of situation. Miles had trained her well, more with the stick than the carrot.

  When the evening ended she didn't wait for Ross. She nodded a hasty goodnight and went off by herself, tossing down her bag when she was safely in her room and looking with disgust at the dress, her eyes hot with unshed tears. She knew she would bum the dress as soon as she got home, her skin seemed to be crawling with loathing.

  A knock at her door startled her, anger and fear beginning as she thought of Claude's satisfied face as she had left. If it was him .... The knock came again and then a hard voice she was beginning to hear in her sleep.

  'Helen! Let me in!'

  When she opened the door he strode inside with no explanation whatever and turned to face her, slamming the door behind him. She had infuriated him, that much was plain.

  'What the hell was that all about?' His eyes drilled into her, hard chips of glittering ice. 'You're supposed to be my secretary, not some vamp. If you've arranged to entertain Thiriet here later you can just...!'

  'How dare you?' Helen stared at him as if he were mad, her face flushed with annoyance. 'Am I responsible for your lecherous clients? You arranged this! What did I do wrong, or are they into something I haven't learned? They wanted me to beat them with my handbag?'

  He looked about to shake her. 'I wanted you to behave in a decent manner. I didn't expect to find you giving the "come on" to Thiriet and gang.' His lips had a white line of temper around them and Helen's face paled at his next words. 'You're a real mystery, aren't you? All cool at home and all seduction at play. You intend to continue the evening in here? It's a nice big bed.'

  She lashed out at him, catching him off guard, her fingers leaving a red line across his cheek, and his head snapped back but only for a second. His eyes narrowed to icy lights and he came forward grimly, rage on his face as Helen backed away, feeling the hard edge of the dressing-table against her legs.

  'Don't touch me! Don't touch me!' She had gone chalk-white, her blue eyes enormous, filled with terror, and it stopped him in his tracks as if he had met a brick wall.

  'I don't strike women, Miss Andrews,' he grated. 'There are other methods of punishment.'

  It was quite clear what he meant and she cringed away. 'No! I'd rather you hit me. I couldn't bear it.' Her voice rose, her hands tightly clenched together, and he stopped again. He looked stunned, shocked out of rage.

  'Are you out of your mind? You've been pawed all evening. What sort of a performance is this? Every one of those damned men was running his hands over you. Am I to be excluded? Don't I get a brilliant smile if I touch you?'

  'Stop it! You wanted me to smile.' Helen's face went whiter than ever. 'I didn't have to be told. I'm used to it. It's what I always had to do and I tried my best because I need this job, but now I...I can't do it any more. I can't come with you again. You'll have to bring somebody else who can be like that because I can't and I wo
n't and .. .'

  Her voice rose, hysteria at the back of it, tears springing to her eyes, and he sat down slowly, never taking his eyes from her.

  'I think you'd better explain,' he said quietly. 'There's nothing to explain. I've told you.' Her voice sounded raw but he just looked at her steadily.

  'I think there is. You've just accused me of using you to procure business, unless I'm mistaken. Let me tell you, Miss Andrews, that I don't need that sort of assistance. Our products are the best and they sell. We have a list of clients lined up and waiting impatiently. The only reason I drive hard at things is because I can't bear to waste my time tiptoeing around. When the time comes that I need a beautiful face to move products, I'll sell out my shares and take to the hills.'

  'Then why...why did you bring me?' Helen whispered. 'Why did you tell me to get dressed for Paris?' Her voice choked but she got no sympathy, if anything he looked angrier than ever.

  'I told you to dress for Paris because Paris is where we are,' he rasped. 'You know damned well why I brought you, you're my secretary'

  Helen stood watching him, tears like small drops of rain on her cheeks, sliding down the pale creamy skin in a stream of misery.

  'I thought that...' 'I...I'm sorry. I...I misunderstood. ... I'm sorry.'

  There were more tears now, embarrassment adding to her misery, but he made no sign of relenting, his voice was no less harsh.

  'Sorry is not going to do at all. You've not only made, me look like a bloody fool, you've made me into a scoundrel. Sorry doesn't cover that lot. I want an explanation.'

  Helen dared not look at him. She stood there wringing her hands together, not even daring to wipe the tears from her face. She had misunderstood him because she was still not free of the past. She had made herself look cheap.

  'Sit down, Helen.' His voice had lost a little of the cold emphasis and she sank to the dressing-stool, her legs trembling. 'Now. Talk!'

  There was no way she was going to get out of this and no way she could meet those clear grey eyes.

  'It was when I was married. You...you think I'm an unmarried mother, I know, but I was married when ... Miles had a business, not successful, he was always in debt, but he had big ideas. He was determined to succeed but he never did. From the first I was supposed to...to lure clients. These clothes ... I had to...to smile and smile to put up with...'

  'Why the hell didn't you refuse?' His interruption sounded enraged and she looked up at him then, meeting his furious eyes and cringing more at such raw savagery. 'Unlike you, he believed in striking women, and I couldn't just walk away. I was too scared and...and there was Tina.'

  'Tina?'

  'My sister. She lived with us. She was only fifteen. That’s partly why I allowed myself to be rushed into marriage. When my parents were killed Miles was wonderful and...and I believed him. I thought it was love. Everything was just too much and he was kind ... Tina was so young.'

  'And you were so grown-up, all of twenty. My God! Tonight you thought I wanted you to do the same thing all over again?'

  Helen nodded, looking down at her feet, too shattered to face him.

  'Oh, thank you, Helen,' he said caustically. 'I can see you've really got me reckoned up. If I had too much pride, you've certainly punctured it.'

  'I'm sorry,' Helen said wearily. 'I'm well programmed, you see. It was all so familiar.'

  She looked up and he was staring at her, his mouth tight, and she looked rapidly away.

  'I feel dirty.'

  Her voice was a whisper and he just went on staring at her. It was more than obvious that if he offered any comfort she would either scream or faint. His black scowl was enough to unnerve her.

  'Get a shower.' He got up and brought her silky robe from the bed, handing it to her carefully, his voice a low growl of anger. 'I'll order you a tray of tea for when you come out.'

  She was too subdued to argue and when she came back, securely wrapped in her robe, he was still there, the tray of tea on the small table beside him.

  'Sit down and drink your tea and you can pour me one, although I feel in need of something stronger.'

  She was almost frighteningly obedient and he sat watching her, his eyes on her bent head, her shining hair, blue-black in the lamplight. Her slender hands were still trembling. She looked beaten, defeated, no sign of his efficient secretary left.

  'How did anyone manage to get you so intimidated?' he bit out suddenly. 'You're intelligent, capable, beautiful!'

  'In the quiet privacy of a house, might is very often right,' Helen told him without looking up. 'I was still shattered from losing my parents, feeling terribly responsible for Tina. I suppose it was easy for Miles. I fell into a great big trap and he started straight away. He worked up to better things. I never came out of the shock of one thing before another shock was there. I was scared, bewildered, prepared to believe I was everything he said.'

  'What made you finally leave?'

  She gave a peculiar little laugh. 'He went too far.'

  'How?'

  'Please don't ask me.' She suddenly looked up, her face still pale, a dazed look in her eyes. Her voice was back to a whisper. 'Do you know, I can't think now why I didn't kill him.'

  For a second he looked back at her, his narrowed eyes trying to probe her mind, and then he looked away, leaving her in peace, his face flaring with anger as his gaze fell on the silky blue dress she had worn that evening.

  Before she knew his intentions he had got up and walked over to it, picking it up and tearing it straight down the middle.

  'If you want it replacing, just say so,' he grated as she stared at him in astonishment, his violent action bringing her out of her odd trance. 'In fact, if you want your whole wardrobe replacing let me know.' His lips suddenly twisted wryly at her expression. 'At least it's given you something to think about besides my lecherous clients.' He strode to the door. 'Go to bed, Helen. Let's hope your next trip to Paris is an improvement on this one. In the morning we'll get the hell out of here early.'

  He walked out without saying goodnight and she was so worn out by tension that she just climbed into bed and closed her eyes. Oddly enough, it was a relief that he knew. She had seen a great deal of savage satisfaction on his face as he had ripped the dress in two and thrown it into the waste basket. It had satisfied her too as if she were rid of those pawing hands. She drifted into sleep, light-headed and weary, an angry, handsome face with piercing grey eyes uppermost in her mind.

  Next day their departure could not be early after all. The airport was fog-bound and it was late afternoon before they were cleared for take-off. Ross was grimfaced, almost completely silent. He was very courteous, seeing that she was comfortable, arranging for them to stay a few hours extra at the hotel, but underneath she could feel his displeasure. She could almost hear him thinking and she felt a complete failure. She hadn't forgotten that he had told her she had made him look a fool. This excursion had brought back too many bad memories and she was quiet and pale, her face almost drawn. That didn't please him either.

  By the time she got home it was dark. Ross just walked to the door with her case, put it down and nodded to her politely, and she went inside feeling as if she had been severely chastised. Tansy was in bed and, when Tina rushed from. the sitting-room to ask excitedly about Paris, Helen Just brushed past her and went upstairs.

  'Well, how was it?' Tina appeared at her bedroom door and stood watching her quizzically.

  'It was awful!' Helen burst into tears. She didn't explain further because she was too upset, and a migraine started, the worst she had ever had.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was about ten o'clock the next morning when the phone rang and disturbed Helen. It prompted her to wonder vaguely if Tina had phoned the office but she was really too ill to care. Tina seemed to be shouting but she couldn't hear properly from upstairs and she drifted off again with Tina's voice ringing in her ears. She hardly seemed to have slept at all when the doorbell rang and her disturbed sleep be
came an impossibility as Tina began to shout again, a sort of subdued ferocity about her voice that told Helen she was really annoyed.

  She struggled out of bed and into her thick dressing gown, wrapping it tightly around her, and Tina's voice grew in volume as she opened the bedroom door.

  'If you think you're coming here to upset her some more then you can think again! She wouldn't be in the state she's in if you weren't so awful! She never had a migraine when Jim Saxton was there, so don't try to wriggle out of it!'

  Helen clung to the rail and went slowly down until she could see the door. It was wide open, cold flooding in, Ross Maclean standing on the step in driving snow with no hope of entry. Tina was guarding the door like a dangerous terrier, her dark hair bobbing about with annoyance as she shouted. Tansy was hiding by the kitchen door and Ross was looking astonished.