Naive Awakening

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Why should I? You’re a woman, aren’t you? It’s in your nature to be opportunistic, but don’t think that you can pull the wool over my eyes, because you can’t.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LEIGH awoke the following morning with a headache and that peculiar lethargy that came when you hadn’t slept properly. She half opened her eyes, and then remembered everything that had happened the night before.

  Even in the privacy of her bedroom, her face burned with embarrassment and dismay.

  How could she? She slipped out of the bed and ran a shower, standing under it and closing her eyes as the fine needles of water washed over her. In her head, her thoughts flitted around, a kaleidoscope of graphic images which refused to be shoved into the background.

  She remembered Nicholas’s accusations, the contempt in his eyes. But most of all she remembered her response to him when he had touched her, the way her nerves had flared into wild arousal. She had never felt that way with anyone before, and it had terrified her. It terrified her now, just thinking about it.

  It was as though she had spent her lifetime in a state of slumber, waiting for the right key to unlock that uncontrollable yearning which she had felt with him.

  She groaned and stepped out of the shower, towelling her hair vigorously. It would have been so convenient to be able to blame the whole shameful episode on drink, but she was honest enough to realise that drink had played no part in her craving for him. He had touched her with the lazy mastery of someone well skilled in the art of making love, and she had reacted with a hunger she had never experienced before.

  In a way, she thought, it was just as well that he had only been toying with her to prove a point, because, however much that humiliated her, it would have been far worse if they had taken the lovemaking that step further.

  She dressed slowly, avoiding looking in the mirror because she didn’t want to see what might be staring back at her.

  She told herself that her attraction to him was a mistake, but an excusable one. After all, she was totally inexperienced. Her encounters with men had been gauche and superficial. A movie, a kiss, some awkward fumbling, but she had always held back from anything else.

  So of course, she reasoned, she would respond to the experience that Nicholas had brought to his love-making. She might dislike him, but for a brief while sheer physical attraction had made her forget that.

  So what was the problem? she asked herself, much calmer now that she had worked things out in her head. She risked a glance in the mirror and composed her features into a suitably acceptable mask of control.

  Face it, she informed the reflection staring back at her, you don’t like Nicholas Reynolds. You don’t want to like him. He’s rude, insulting, and arrogant. Oh, he can turn on the charm when it suits him to prove a point, he can flash one of those smiles that makes his face look quite different, but underneath it all he’s ruthless and dangerous and from a world in which you have no part.

  Still, her nerves felt very jumpy as she went downstairs. She didn’t much care if she bumped into him or not, but she would rather not.

  She released a guilty sigh of relief the minute she realised that he was nowhere around.

  Sir John was in the kitchen, juggling with the newspaper while trying to eat at the same time. He looked up as she walked in, and smiled.

  ‘Feeling better?’ Leigh asked critically, and he nodded, ignoring the dry barb in her voice.

  ‘Much. Must have been an overnight thing. One of these twenty-four-hour bugs.’

  ‘Must have been,’ she agreed, sitting down opposite him and helping herself to a cup of coffee.

  He abandoned his fight with the newspaper and rested his elbows on the table, staring at her coyly.

  ‘And how did your evening go?’ he asked casually, looking away and buttering a piece of toast.

  ‘The play was terrific. Lovely music, nice storyline, and the atmosphere in the theatre was wonderful. There’s nothing at all like that where I come from, as you must know. Plays, in my part of the world, are things strictly reserved for children at the end of term.’

  He didn’t look impressed with her reply and she wanted to grin.

  ‘So you had a good time,’ he insisted, after a while, and she nodded obligingly, noticing that he seemed slightly more pleased with that.

  ‘You’re looking really well this morning,’ she continued. It would be just as well to change the subject now, before it started getting too uncomfortable. She knew Sir John well enough to realise that he didn’t beat about the bush when it came to asking direct questions, and direct questions about Nicholas were the last things she wanted to face. ‘That twenty-four-hour bug, so called,’ she couldn’t resist adding, ‘seems to have had quite a reviving effect.’

  He flashed her a sheepish look. ‘Must be the yellow waistcoat,’ he murmured agreeably.

  ‘It’s very becoming.’ In fact, he looked in peak condition, a thousand times better than he had when they had first arrived. Freddie, she knew, had a lot do with that. Having grown up with only their grandfather as a figure of authority, he had found no difficulty in trans-ferring some of that enthusiastic affection to Sir John.

  ‘It’s very yellow. But thank you for the thought, my dear. It’s a long time since an old man received compliments of any kind.’

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘Well, the odious Lady Jessica character hardly has anything pleasant to say, and she’s the only female I tend to see these days. Maybe I should get a companion in? A female companion? Eh?’

  ‘Maybe you should,’ Leigh agreed thoughtfully. ‘Someone long and leggy and bursting with compliments.’

  Sir John chuckled. ‘Not my type, my dear. And just as well. Don’t think I could sit through my grandson’s sermons on women being after my bank balance.’

  There was a pause and she averted her eyes.

  ‘Have I missed something here?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘Missed?’

  ‘I may be an old man, but I’m not a blind old man. You looked decidedly uncomfortable just then.’

  Wouldn’t it be nice to confide in someone? She fiddled with the coffee-cup, twirling it idly in her fingers, watching the patterns formed by the moving brown liquid.

  ‘It’s that damned grandson of mine, isn’t it?’ Sir John pressed.

  Leigh shrugged. ‘I think,’ she said with a mixture of reluctance and resignation, ‘that I fall into the category of one of those women after a healthy bank balance. That’s what your grandson thinks anyway.’

  ‘He doesn’t! Well, I’ll soon set him straight on that score.’

  Leigh looked at the determined glint in his eyes with alarm.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she said hurriedly. She could think of only a few things that could be worse than to be accused of being opportunistic, and Sir John setting Nicholas straight was definitely one of them. Besides, she was more than capable of championing her own causes. She had never backed down from a fight, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  ‘Pay no attention to what he says, lass,’ Sir John said kindly. ‘He can be a bit sensitive on some things. Do you remember him at all as a boy?’

  Leigh looked up, startled. ‘I guess so,’ she said slowly, ‘sort of. I was very young at the time.’

  ‘Well, I’ll let you into a little secret.’ He paused. ‘You may remember that Nicholas’s parents were hardly ever around. My son had business abroad and they spent most of the year travelling.’

  She nodded. In fact, she couldn’t remember his parents at all, which spoke volumes about the amount of time they spent in Yorkshire.

  ‘Nicholas doesn’t know that I’m aware of this episode at all. But one year, they had returned from one of their trips. I can’t recall where they had been. Africa?’ He frowned. ‘Somewhere quite exotic. Anyway, they returned to find that Nicholas had become great playmates with a young girl called Clarissa and her brother.’

  Clarissa. Oh, yes, Leigh remembered her well enoug
h. She had been extremely pretty, with flaxen blonde hair which she had envied with childish desperation. Her own red mane had seemed the ultimate in hideousness by comparison.

  She grinned inwardly. Clarissa had grown into an overweight young woman. She had married young and now had three children, and her blondeness was now strictly out of a bottle.

  ‘Well,’ Sir John was saying, ‘they were alarmed. Gave him a pretty rough time about it. He could only have been about twelve or thirteen at the time, at a vulnerable age. They thought that he was too good for the both of them, you see. Wrong side of the tracks and all that. Nicholas stubbornly continued playing with them, but their words had hit home. Adults don’t realise what damage they can do to their children, do they?’

  ‘No, they don’t,’ she agreed. Children picked things up very quickly and stray remarks or criticisms could be committed to memory with an intensity that could last a lifetime. She could still remember with acute vividness the feeling of being ostracised because she and Freddie had no parents.

  ‘Then we all moved down here. He started dating a young girl when he was about sixteen, and they left him in no doubt whatsoever that they disapproved of the relationship. They should have just left it, of course. It would have fizzled out. As it was, they harped and criticised and the whole thing went on for far longer than it should have.’ He shook his head at the memory. ‘I think it was all a gesture of defiance from Nicholas. Teenagers don’t like being preached at by their parents, and he was more strong-willed than most. But criticism over a period of time is like a destructive, steady drip. And the straw that finally broke the camel’s back was when he went to university. He met a young woman. Attractive girl, but quite brash. He became madly infatuated with her.’

  ‘Madly infatuated?’ That didn’t sound like the controlled, cynical man Leigh knew at all. ‘What happened?’ She hated herself for her voyeuristic curiosity, but she was intrigued.

  ‘Threw him over for someone else. Someone older and very rich. That crystallised his view of women, and since then, well…’ He sighed. ‘Protects himself, you see. Natural human reaction. And Nicholas can be dauntingly single-minded. Anyway,’ he said in a brighter voice, ‘I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my ramblings?’

  ‘Not in the least,’ Leigh assured him as they left the kitchen.

  ‘So—’ he threw her a sideways look ‘—just ignore

  anything he says on that score. Get to know him. To know is to understand, and to understand is…’

  ‘Yes, well.’ She fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘I really must be going. I’ve got some letters…’ She smiled weakly.

  ‘Of course, my dear.’ He smiled at her indulgently. ‘Still, it’s nice that you’re working with him. Give you an opportunity to see another side of him.’

  She threw him another weak smile. Nice? Nice was for normal people. Nice was for little old ladies who baked apple pies. Nice was not for Nicholas Reynolds. And working with him wasn’t nice at all. In fact, a tank full of killer sharks was nice in comparison.

  Later, back in her own room, she digested what he had told her. Of course, it went some way to explaining his behaviour, but it didn’t excuse it. Nothing could excuse the hostility she saw in his eyes.

  Luckily she didn’t have to face him for the rest of the day, because she knew that she would still feel that tension rip through her the way it did every time he was around, even after what Sir John had told her. He was out, and she had a fair idea where. With Lady Jessica. She, at least, posed no threat to him. He could see her with a clear conscience, knowing that she wasn’t out for his money.

  She dressed for her date with Gerry, already regretting her impulsive agreement to see him. Lord knew what she had been trying to prove, but as eight o’clock rolled round she found herself wishing that she had not rushed into something she didn’t want.

  As it turned out, the evening was a success. The nightclub was crowded and throbbing with music. There was an awful lot of dancing and his attentiveness was flattering.

  It made a change from Nicholas, whose aggression seemed to throw her into a permanent state of confusion.

  She could relax with Gerry without feeling as though too many demands were being made on her. He loved to talk, and she was quite happy to listen. He told her about his family, their house in the country, his broken relationships, and she didn’t feel as though there were depths to him which she would have a struggle trying to plumb.

  By the time they finally made it back to the house she was pleasantly tired. He kissed her and she returned his kiss lightly, feeling nothing of that gut-wrenching excitement which she had experienced with Nicholas.

  In fact, she was slightly surprised to find that over the next week she saw rather more of Gerry than she had expected.

  He took her to his favourite restaurants and he didn’t pressurise her into a physical relationship which she knew with increasingly certainty that she didn’t want. She enjoyed his company and that was as far as she was prepared to take it.

  And it helped that she was in a good frame of mind. Nicholas was not around either at work or at home. She worked hard during the day and relaxed in the evenings, relieved that she didn’t have to face him.

  This, she thought, as she began clearing her desk in preparation for going home, was much more like how she was normally: calm, controlled, in charge of her life.

  She had become so accustomed to not seeing Nicholas that when she heard the outer door click open she didn’t even look around. She was working late and there was no one else in the office, but she merely assumed that it was the cleaner.

  ‘Still here?’

  The deep voice made her jump and the stack of papers which she had been holding crashed to the floor. She looked around to see Nicholas standing in the doorway, his eyebrows arched.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she replied, angry with herself for her body which suddenly seemed to have shifted into overdrive. She bent down to pick up the papers, her body tensing as he stooped alongside her to help.

  ‘I can manage,’ she said stiffly, not looking at him but following his hands as they swept up the files. He was so close to her that his clean masculine scent filled her nostrils and she had to restrain herself from automatically pulling back. He handed her the files and she carefully stacked them on to her desk, aware of his eyes on her and determined not to let that ruin her composure.

  He perched on the edge of her desk and she frowned. What was he doing? She stood behind her desk awkwardly and looked at him.

  ‘I was just on my way out,’ she began, and he threw her an ironic, amused smile that made her suspect that he was all too aware of the effect he was having on her.

  ‘How are you enjoying the job so far?’ he asked, disregarding her remark totally.

  ‘It’s great.’

  ‘I’ve had some good reports about you.’

  ‘Have you?’ She couldn’t prevent the smile of pleasure that lit up her face.

  ‘Does that surprise you?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Pretty sure of your abilities, aren’t you?’ He sounded vaguely amused.

  ‘When it comes to work, yes.’

  He looked at her with interest and it struck her again how attractive that dark face was when it did not have the harsh lines of aggression stamped on it.

  ‘That’s an odd remark,’ he drawled, idly flicking through some of the files. ‘Are you not quite so sure of your abilities when it comes to men?’ He looked up at her suddenly, right into her eyes, and a tide of pink colour washed her face.

  ‘I really think it’s time to go.’ She reached out for her bag and his hand shot out to catch her wrist.

  ‘When I say so.’

  ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘Good grief, you make me sound like a Dickensian slave-driver,’ he said lazily, but she noticed that he had not denied her question.

  She looked down to where his long, lean fingers were coiled a
round her wrist and her stomach flipped over.

  He’s bored, she thought. Bored and a little tired, and not averse to having a bit of fun and games at my expense. She tugged her hand and his grip tightened.

  ‘So tell me, why aren’t you sure of your abilities when it comes to men?’

  ‘I never said that; you did.’

  Her voice sounded steady enough, but the physical contact of his hand on hers had sent her pulses racing.

  ‘You intrigue me,’ he said, his grip on her lightening, and he absent-mindedly stroked her wrist with his thumb.

  ‘Do I?’ This time her voice was slightly less steady.

  ‘You worked for years in that village library, for instance,’ he continued, ‘hardly what anyone would call a demanding job, yet you come down here and in no time at all you seem to have mastered all this.’

  ‘I’m sure that must have disappointed you,’ Leigh said tightly.

  ‘Are you? Why?’

  ‘Because I got the impression that you didn’t expect me to succeed,’ she said, still disconcertingly sensitive to the faintly erotic movements of his thumb of her hand. ‘You wanted me to work for you so that you could get full value from having been forced to bring us down to London, but you wouldn’t have been too surprised if I had fallen flat on my face.’

  He looked at her and his grey eyes glittered with amusement. This, she knew, was Nicholas at his most dangerous—when he was exuding charm without even thinking about it.

  She yanked her hand away and began fumbling with her bag.

  She wasn’t going to let her emotions make a fool of her logic this time. She had learnt a valuable lesson from her last bout of stupidity and it was not one that she was going to forget in a hurry.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, loosening his tie, ‘I wouldn’t have given you the job if I had thought that you were going to fail in it. True, I had no intention of you coming down here and having a free ride, but on the other hand I’m not a masochist. I wouldn’t have hired you against my better judgement merely to prove a point.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Leigh said, more in control now that there was some distance between them, even if it was only the width of the desk. At least he wasn’t touching her. When he was touching her, her brain seemed to seize up.