He crushed her against him then, moving to the chair, settling her on his knee, the kiss unbroken. It was like a whirlwind, a crackling fire, a soaring sensation of light and heat that lifted her away from the room. All she could do was feel, thoughts and anxieties forgotten. His lips parted and Ross accepted her sweetness, draining everything from her, leaving her shaken and aching.
His breathing was heavy as he at last lifted his head, his lips slowly releasing hers. The eyes that looked down at her transformed face were a blaze of silver, lights flickering across them.
'Now are you ready for me?'
He watched her flushed face, the frantic pulse beating at the base of her white throat, and her eyes slowly opened, dazed, purple and luminous.
'You know what I want,' he said thickly. 'You want it too. You want me to stay right now and take you next door to my room. Admit it, Helen.'
'I...I can't.' She began to shake her head almost uncontrollably and he grasped it, forcing it to his shoulder, his hand like iron against her face.
'Why? I know how you feel. I'm not an immature boy.' His hard looks suddenly softened. 'I'm not Gilford either. I don't want to take you in there to beat you.' He could have said nothing to bring her more quickly back to earth. Instantly she was struggling, panic on her face, and for a second he held her implacably.
'Tell me, Helen! Tell me what it is that makes you freeze up so completely.'
'I can't! I can't! You couldn't possibly understand.'
'Oh, I agree. If you never give me a clue then I'll be in the dark forever.' His hard voice made her cringe and he suddenly relented, easing his grip on her. 'All right. So I'm still waiting. One day, you'll tell me.'
'I won't. Not ever.'
He stood and lifted her to the bed, sitting her down like a worn-out child.
'We'll see. At least you're not crying any more. I forgot to ask you why.' He brought the dress and slid it over her head, helping her to stand until he had the zip carefully in place. 'There. A husband does have a few uses. Now we go down.'
He swung her up into his arms but she struggled, flushing when he looked down at her with wry amusement.
'I have to make my face up.'
'All right.' She was carried to the dressing-table and deposited on the stool. 'I'll come back for you.'
At the door, he paused. 'Oh, I quite forgot. The reason I came back was to tell you that we had a phone call. My mother and father have invited themselves for lunch. They'll be here in about half an hour. Donna is coming with them. I've had a word with Mrs Hill, she can make the meal stretch that far. I believe it's put her on her mettle, Americans for Christmas lunch. She's quite rosy-cheeked.'
Helen's cheeks were white. Donna here, in this house.
Donna had no intention of moving far from Ross and it was clear that he accepted it happily. The magic died away, her heart returned to its normal speed. What was the use? Nothing could come of it after all.
The Macleans and Donna Street
had arrived with almost perfect timing, their arms filled with presents for Tansy, and Donna had breezed in, gay with laughter, her eyes sparkling at Ross. The need to give a Christmas greeting was as good an excuse as any to kiss him and Helen turned away, making a great deal of fuss over Tom Maclean and Deirdre.
'Is this putting you out?' She was over-enthusiastic in denial as Ross's father asked this question and his eyes fell to her feet as she made a move to leave the hall. 'Have you had an accident?'
'Winter games,' Ross enlightened drily. 'These athletes will overstretch themselves.'
'You've been skiing?' Donna almost pounced across to them.
'A sledge,' Helen informed her tightly.
'Oh.' She dismissed Helen and turned glowing eyes on Ross. 'Do you remember that winter when I had an accident? That awful fall at Aspen? Still, it did have its compensations, we were stuck inside for days, deliciously warm.'
Tom Maclean's eyes narrowed but Ross made no reply whatever. His arm came round Helen's slender waist, taking her weight.
'It's not a break but it's very uncomfortable. Let's get you to the table, Helen. Mrs Hill is ready to serve.' 'Don't we get a drink?', Donna pouted up at him but he ignored her coy pleading.
'Late arrivals sit down at once. This meal is too good to be kept waiting.'
'I didn't know you went in for sledging, darling.' Donna pushed in close behind as Ross helped Helen along, so close that his arm might well have been around her too.
'The sledge is a bit small for me, it's Tansy's. I only act as anchor-man.'
'You went on a child's sledge?' Donna shrieked with laughter, her tone ridiculing, and Helen's face flushed painfully. She was glad that the newly cut hair hid her face.
'She's given to bursts of great daring,' Ross commented wryly, his eyes disparaging as Helen settled in her chair. 'You never know where you are with Helen.'
'You do with me,' Donna assured him meaningly. 'I'm utterly predictable.'
'Ad nauseam,' Tom Maclean murmured as he sat close to Helen, winking at her as she gave him a startled and grateful look.
It had the effect of quieting Donna, and as Tansy and Tina took their places at the table both Ross and his father made sure that this was a happy meal for Tansy. Even Deirdre seemed to be fascinated by the little girl and Donna's nose was somewhat put out of joint.
It had the dark reality of a nightmare. Lunch was superb, a real Christmas sparkle about it that reminded Helen what a treasure she had in Mrs Hill. It was the only thing that did sparkle. Helen felt stiff with apprehension all the time, Tina was very obviously disgruntled and Ross was indifferent.
She resumed the battle later as Ross took his parents on a tour of the house and Tina went off with Tansy after muttering to Helen that she had had 'just about enough of this do'.
Helen was settled on the long settee in the drawing groom, the coffee close by for her to serve, and Donna declined a conducted tour. She sat facing Helen in an armchair.
'You do know about Ross and me?' she enquired coolly, the claws extended now that they were alone.
'Of course. Childhood friends.'
Donna gave a contemptuous snort. 'More than that, and you'd better believe it.'
'What exactly am I supposed to believe?' Helen faced her. She had no alternative. She could sit with bowed head or face an attack head-on. This was her house, her home and anger rose inside her at the look on the other girl's face.
'I'll not give him up. I'll fight for him. That's what you're supposed to believe! I want Ross. I've always wanted him and this little marriage doesn't matter a damn to me.'
'You prefer other people's husbands?' Helen looked across at her with more calm than she felt. It was a direct and open challenge but she could hardly throw her out. 'I want Ross and I intend to get him. He already belongs to me. I'll get him out of this mess and back home.'
There was no time to reply. The others came back, Ross coolly enigmatic, Tom looking suspiciously at Donna and Helen's white face and Deirdre looking quite subdued.
'This is the sort of house I'll buy over here,' Tom announced, sitting at the opposite end of the settee to Helen. 'I've just been telling Ross.'
'There are quite a few on the market at present,' Ross informed him. He sat in between them, close to Helen. 'This, however, will not be for sale. This is home.'
It gave Helen a feeling of warmth and her eyes met Donna's black gaze, her own blue eyes amused. Even if Ross didn't mean it, the words must surely have given his lady-friend a nasty pang.
'Coffee?' she murmured sweetly, handing a cup across.
It was taken with a barely civil nod of thanks.
'You should have that foot up,' Ross exclaimed as the coffee was all handed out and Helen sat back, not managing to suppress the slight wince as her ankle gave a nasty twinge.
'She can sit here,' Donna burst out enthusiastically, her smile returning. 'It's the obvious place, with this footstool. I'll sit by you, Ross.'
'Don't bother,' Hel
en said quietly. 'I can put my foot up perfectly well here.' She swung around, leaning back against the cushions and resting her long, slender legs across Ross's knee. She could fight too and she would. 'I'm not any great weight. Ross can stand it, I imagine.'
He had stiffened involuntarily as her leg had come across his, resting lightly against his strong thighs, but now he smiled a slow smile as he moved closer to make her comfortable.
'You're light as a feather. I seem to have been carrying you around for a long time.'
'You're accident-prone, girlie?' Tom burst into delighted laughter and Helen beamed at him. He looked like an ally to her.
'Not really. I had a migraine after we came back from Paris before Christmas. Ross carried me up to bed.'
'I bet that didn't help much.' Tom was laughing louder and Donna's face was red with annoyance.
'She went off to sleep like a lamb,' Ross informed him blandly, leaving him to make whatever he wanted of that. 'I think we'll have these sandals off,' he continued, pushing Helen's long skirt back and unfastening the straps of her silver sandals. 'Lunch being over we can relax. You've got a nicely swollen ankle there.'
'It's all right.' A burst of apprehension raced over Helen's skin now that his cool fingers were on her ankles. 'I'll decide,' he murmured softly. 'If you defy me, I'll make you stay in bed tomorrow.' His voice had dropped to seductive darkness, putting an entirely different meaning on his words, and Helen's cheeks flushed wildly, her confusion adding to Tom's amusement and Donna's fury.
Helen just had to see it through. After all, she had started all this and she could hardly slap his hands away now. He began to talk to his father and mother and Donna found herself left out of things somewhat. Helen would have been grateful to him except that his soothing fingers never left her. As he talked he began to unconsciously stroke her ankles, over the top of her foot, his fingers setting fire to her right through her body.
'Comfy?' He looked at her in a downright sensuous manner, his grey eyes sparkling like the sunlight on ice, and she nodded, swallowing hard, tearing her eyes away from his hypnotic gaze. She had started this and he wasn't about to let her forget it.
They stayed for tea. Helen wasn't quite sure that Deirdre wanted to and she was more than certain that Donna wanted to be off as fast as possible but, like his son, Tom Maclean was a very dominant character. He wanted to stay and they stayed. Helen escaped to her room for a freshen-up, Tina answering her frantic signal as she came back into the drawing-room.
'What a set of nuisances,' Tina muttered as she helped Helen upstairs.
'Tom Maclean is very nice,' Helen pointed out. 'I like him.'
'Oh, so do I. I wasn't meaning him. Your mother-in-law looks as if she's going to burst into tears and Donna Street
is disgusting! She sat there almost eating Ross with her eyes. I could have died laughing when I came back in and saw him making love to your ankles. Did you see her face? She was all green and stricken.'
Well, I planned it, Helen thought. How I'm going to get out of it is the problem.
It was no problem. At bedtime, Ross carried her upstairs and deposited her on the bed, looking down at her with cool eyes when she watched him warily.
'Relax, Helen,' he drawled sardonically. 'I'm not about to spring on you and demand that you follow through. I've never had much difficulty in reading faces. I trust I played my part well?'
He walked off into his room, closing the communicating door very firmly, and she sank back on the silk sheets, miserable when she realised she was more disappointed than frightened.
CHAPTER NINE
A few days later, Miles came. It was quite early. Ross had not left the house because he was waiting for a telephone call from America, catching up on paperwork in the meantime. A delicate state of truce existed that Helen knew could not go on for much longer. Intensely aware of Ross as she was, her nerves were on edge and she felt he was coldly waiting for her to break. Every time their eyes accidentally met, the air seemed to catch fire. Something had to happen soon or she would be wound up to screaming-point.
Her ankle was nearly better, and she was just crossing the hall when the doorbell rang and she answered it without thought. After the days at her own cottage when she had been expecting Miles, had been angry and ready for him, she suddenly found herself facing him with no shield whatsoever. Ross had become the shield, his strength allowing her to sink back into a world where Miles was no threat, a world where only the legacy of brutality he had left could hurt her. Now she faced him alone and unprotected.
Thoughts raced desperately through her mind: how to make sure she got rid of him before Tansy came dancing down the stairs, how to stop Mrs Hill from knowing about this. Ross was locked in his study and it became terribly important that he remained there, that she could face this alone. She was ashamed to think that this man watching her should in any way touch her life with Ross. It sullied something that had become very important to her. Her face paled and Miles stood looking at her with a cruel triumph.
'Did you expect me to just give up? Come on, now, Helen. Changing house is no way of hiding, not nowadays.'
'What do you want here?' She hardly dared do more than whisper. He stood there as he had always stood, his very presence a threat, making her stomach churn. She began to shake, and he noticed with satisfaction that brought the usual smile to his thin lips.
Oddly enough she seemed to be looking at him for the first time. She had once thought him handsome, charming. He was neither of those. His brown hair was too slick, his face beginning to fatten; even his waistline bulged a little, for all it was covered with a thick coat. She felt a wave of sickness. This man, this creature had abused her and threatened her. He was threatening now. Ross was clean and shining, a strong man in every way, his power a refuge whatever his mood. She loved Ross. It was all terribly clear, the comparison her mind made even under stress very obvious.
'What do you want?' Unknowingly she raised her voice, her anger climbing like a hot tide, wanting to flood him away from anything to do with Ross.
'You know what I want. I want to see my child, to get to know her before I get custody. Surely it's reasonable? She doesn't know me at all. I'll have to move in carefully, get her used to me before I take her home.'
'Get away from here or I'll call the police!' Helen's voice rose louder and he laughed, his sneer perfectly normal for him, hatefully familiar.
'And prove how unstable you are? Call the police when your ex-husband comes to see his child? They won't even answer the call. This is what they call a domestic. They don't like meddling in things like this.'
'Allow me to meddle!'
The door was pulled open wider and Ross stood there, his towering form beside her, his eyes like a frozen lake. His normal presence was daunting but now Helen thought he was the most forbidding, dangerous man she had ever seen.
'Who the hell are you?' Clearly Miles had not reckoned on meeting any male opposition.
'I'm the man who owns this house. Right at this moment you're contaminating my doorstep and attempting to intimidate my wife!'
'You've married again?' Miles stared at Helen in disbelief.
'I would say it's for the first time.' Ross looked at him ferociously and Helen knew he was in a towering rage, on the very edge of violence. Miles saw it too, he began to back away.
'One moment!' Ross moved forward, his presence so menacing that Miles stopped immediately. 'We've heard from your solicitor and we know your plans. Let me tell you ours. We'll fight you every step of the way, and money's no object.'
'You're Maclean.' Recognition suddenly seemed to dawn on Miles and his face went taut.
'I'm Maclean.' The icy grey eyes narrowed. 'And you're Gilford, owner of a computer software company that's just beginning to take off. It boils down to this: do you want to be dragged through every court, every newspaper, as you fight for a child you haven't even bothered to see in all these years? The cost would be prohibitive, in more ways than one. Maclea
n International would clean you out.'
'You're threatening me?' Miles was white, shaken, and Helen couldn't speak a word, not that she would have been allowed to do so. She now understood Jim's expression, 'power and drive in its raw state'.
'Oh, yes.' The very softness of his voice held its own threat.
'I can't match Maclean's.' Miles looked at Ross as if he would like to kill him but fear held him fast to the spot.
'Not in any way. We want a letter, a letter from your solicitor. The letter is to be a legal undertaking not to start any proceedings or bother my wife again. It is to be a letter that renounces any rights to a child you have not even seen. It is to give permission for the child to legally take my name. You have seven days from now.'
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