Celebrate the legend that is bestselling author

PENNY JORDAN

Phenomenally successful author of more than two hundred books with sales of over a hundred million copies!

Penny Jordan's novels are loved by millions of readers all around the word in many different languages. Mills & Boon are proud to have published one hundred and eighty-seven novels and novellas written by Penny Jordan, who was a reader favourite right from her very first novel through to her last.

This beautiful digital collection offers a chance to recapture the pleasure of all of Penny Jordan's fabulous, glamorous and romantic novels for Mills & Boon.

Penny Jordan is one of Mills & Boon's most popular authors. Sadly, Penny died from cancer on 31st December 2011, aged sixty-five. She leaves an outstanding legacy, having sold over a hundred million books around the world. She wrote a total of one hundred and eighty-seven novels for Mills & Boon, including the phenomenally successful A Perfect Family, To Love, Honour & Betray, The Perfect Sinner and Power Play, which hit the Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller lists. Loved for her distinctive voice, her success was in part because she continually broke boundaries and evolved her writing to keep up with readers’ changing tastes. Publishers Weekly said about Jordan ‘Women everywhere will find pieces of themselves in Jordan's characters’ and this perhaps explains her enduring appeal.

Although Penny was born in Preston, Lancashire and spent her childhood there, she moved to Cheshire as a teenager and continued to live there for the rest of her life. Following the death of her husband, she moved to the small traditional Cheshire market town on which she based her much-loved Crighton books.

Penny was a member and supporter of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Romance Writers of America—two organisations dedicated to providing support for both published and yet-to-be-published authors. Her significant contribution to women's fiction was recognised in 2011, when the Romantic Novelists’ Association presented Penny with a Lifetime Achievement Award.

Time Fuse
Penny Jordan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

SELINA glanced tensely at her watch, forcing herself to appear calm and relaxed as she linked her hands together in her lap and sat well back in her chair. It was irrational that now, when she had already expended so much mental anguish on what lay ahead, she should be suffering these second thoughts. The pros and cons had already been weighed and having been weighed had been again, and in the end, there could have been no other decision. Not to accept the opportunity fate had handed her would be tantamount to running away, and she had learned long ago during the traumatic days of her childhood that that was simply to court further pain and humiliation. No, when she had first heard about this vacancy from her present employer she had had to resist a strong compulsion to tell him that she had no desire to apply for it, but would he have understood? Might he not have started to ask questions she could not answer, and anyway, hadn’t there been a stronger compulsion; a need she had thought conquered but which flourished inside her still…a desire to see and know for herself?

She trembled slightly, a tall girl with sleek blonde hair; she took after her mother in looks and her father in build. The hint of sensuality in the arrangement of her features that she had inherited from her mother often caused the freezing disdain with which she des-patched her would-be lovers to come as something of a shock. They couldn’t know that she used that disdain to cloak fear and pain. ‘Baked Alaska’ one wit had called her when she was up at Oxford; all melting sweetness on the outside and cold as ice on the inside.

Better by far to be considered cold than easy game. Her grey eyes hardened slightly, her muscles clenching. She must not think of the past now. But wasn’t now exactly the time she should be thinking of it? Easy game; she could still vividly remember one of her mother’s lovers describing her thus, and she herself had lived too long with the soul-searing agonies of such a label—albeit at second-hand—to be in any doubts about that.

They had not got on well, she and her mother. She was her father’s child, she had once told her and ironically she had known herself unloved because of that. Doubly ironic really when one…

‘Miss Thorn?’ The pleasant voice of the secretary interrupted her thoughts. ‘Sir Gerald is ready for you now. Won’t you please come in?’

His office was everything one would expect from an eminent QC, the very air redolent almost with the smell of respectability and wealth. The palms of her hands were sweating slightly, and she wished more than anything else, at this particular moment in time that she could simply turn tail and run. Fool, fool, she derided herself… What was she doing here?

She was here because she wanted a job as Sir Gerald’s PA she reminded herself as she faced her prospective employer. Tall, with a shock of white hair, the photographs she had seen of him had not done him justice. There were lines on his face that had not been put there merely by time, a warmth in his smile she had not anticipated and which left her unbalanced.

‘Miss Thorn.’ He reached across his desk to shake her hand and Selina had to quell a ridiculous urge to touch him. As though he sensed her hesitancy he looked at her. Forcing a smile she extended her hand. His grip was firm without dominating.

‘Please sit down.’

Breathe deeply, keep calm, she admonished herself doing as he bid. It had been hard-won the elegance and grace with which she now moved. She had been a tall gangly girl, ill at ease with her own body, who had had to force herself to accept that the grooming of the mind alone was not sufficient.

Oxford had done much to change her, but some things could never be lost. She still possessed a residue of antipathy towards the male sex which could sometimes reassert itself, often at life’s most awkward moments, and when it did she told herself that it was a combination of fear and pain. At university she had once been asked by a rejected lover what her hang-up was; why she insisted on remaining a virgin. She could have told him; by then she had learned enough about herself and others to analyse and study herself objectively with cool distance, but knowing herself was easier than implementing a change.

Once long ago she had dreamed of possessing an office like this for herself, of earning praise and recognition for her legal skills, but like all other daydreams it had been destroyed by reality. Foster children did not come from backgrounds wealthy enough to provide the financial backing for a legal training. It had been a hard blow to accept, but she had accepted it, and now she was here applying for a post that at least would bring her into contact with that side of the law she found most stimulating.

Her prospective employer was talking; his initial questions were simple to answer, designed to put her at her ease she suspected, and they also gave her the opportunity to study him. She did so almost dispassionately, forcing herself not to give in to the tide of emotion threatening to surge through her. What had she expected? Instant recognition? Her lips compressed. Instant rejection would have been more likely. She should not have come here; she should have obeyed her first instincts and refused even to apply for the position. Working here could only cause her the utmost anguish. How many years had she spent training and controlling the more emotional side of her nature? And here she was on the point of throwing all that effort away, and for what? She was here, she reminded herself firmly, and it was too late to go back. To drag her thoughts away from the pain she concentrated on the first thing in her line of vision. It was a large family photograph depicting Sir Gerald, his wife, and a collection of other adults and children.

He saw her looking at it and picked it up smiling. ‘My wife gave me that as a Ruby Wedding gift.’

She thought she was going to be sick but somehow she had managed a smile, inwardly berating herself for ever laying herself open to this pain.

‘No doubt if you eventually come to work for me you will meet my family. I normally work from home during the summer recess. I have a place in Dorset.’

She nodded her head, fighting to stay calm. She knew all about Sir Gerald’s Dorsetshire home and his family.

‘So you heard of the post through my old friend Judge Seaton?’ he was saying. ‘Well, you certainly come very highly qualified… Never thought of trying for the bar yourself?’

It was a natural enough question, but it was still one that brought pain, thin colour touching delicate cheekbones as she said quietly, ‘I should have loved nothing more, but there was a question of finance.’

‘Of course…quite…’ There was a moment’s pause and then Sir Gerald was smiling again. ‘We have a very busy set of chambers here, with the bulk of the work being handled by my nephew Piers Gresham—a QC like myself—one of the youngest in the country.’ He said it with pride and she had an irrational surge of dislike against his unknown nephew. He went on to describe the type of work she would be involved in and asked several more questions all of which Selina was able to answer. He had not exaggerated when he said she was highly qualified—almost excessively so for the post she was applying for, but even so she knew she ought to be flattered when he said frankly, ‘Well my dear, I think I’d be a fool not to snap you up straightaway, if you are in agreement?’

For a moment caution warred with emotion. She ought to refuse; it was the only sane thing to do. She had already experienced first hand the anguish that would be a part of her everyday life if she stayed but the old compulsion was too strong to resist and almost as though it was someone else speaking for her, she heard herself accepting.

‘Excellent.’ His smile was genuinely warm. Who looking at him could doubt that he was exactly what he seemed; a strong, compassionate man dedicated to the cause of justice?

‘Marvellous. Now if you could just check through a few personal details? Your parents are dead?’

Her nails bit deeply into her palms but she barely felt the pain.

‘Yes,’ she agreed briefly, ‘a car accident when I was eleven.’

‘And after that you were brought up by foster parents?’

‘I was too old for adoption.’ How coolly she said it, her grey eyes calm and unshadowed. ‘And you have no other family?’

How she hated the compassion thickening his voice. She wanted to strike out at him physically but she curbed the emotion.

‘None at all.’ She wouldn’t allow herself to think of the grandparents who might have done so much to ease the misery of her life, but who had repudiated their only daughter, too ashamed and bitter to give her and her illegitimate child any support. They were simply another link in the long chain of betrayals that began with the man who had fathered her and who had then callously and publicly spurned her mother in a blaze of publicity that had burned scars into Selina’s soul that could never be erased. This man, she thought emotionlessly, watching him; this man who sat opposite her with a photograph of his family placed cosily on his desk; this man who represented the law of the land in its highest state; this man who had promised her foolish, greedy mother everything and who had given her nothing bar a child she did not want. No, that last was not strictly true. Her mother had wanted her initially when she had hoped to use her as her weapon in the war she was waging against her lover’s wife; but it had all backfired on her and in order to get her revenge on her lover she had proclaimed their affair to the press.

Selina couldn’t remember when she first realised how different she was from other children; perhaps it was when she started nursery school and men were always waiting to take her photograph, asking her to smile, but she had been about seven before the nightmare really began, when she began to learn what all the curiosity and muted whispers were about. Sometimes it seemed as though there wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t know who she was. Her mother had never made any secret of it, she remembered bitterly. In those years her mother was still able to excite press interest. After all it had been the scandal of the year; the successful barrister, who had promised to leave his wife and family for his mistress and who had then reneged on the bargain, leaving said mistress pregnant.

It had been said in the press at the time that her pregnancy had been a deliberate ploy to break up his marriage; her mother would have been capable of that, Selina reflected, but it still took two. Even now she still bore the scars of those early years when it seemed that everyone knew her as Gerald Harvey’s bastard. The illegitimacy in itself was no big deal; there were many other single-parent children at school with her. No, what had caused the bitterness to take seed and root inside her had been the inescapable knowledge that she had been rejected; that her father had chosen his other children over and above her; that even her conception had been no more than another move in a power game. If she hated her father then she despised her mother; loathed the way in those early years she herself had been paraded about as though she were some sort of freak. She could still vividly remember the headlines she had stolen into the local library to read; the sick sense of betrayal that reading them had brought her.

Financially her mother had done extremely well out of her relationship. There had been a generous lump sum payment but, as she had complained to Selina on more than one occasion, it hadn’t been the same as being Gerald’s wife; of enjoying the security and prestige such a role would have brought.

Her father hadn’t been her mother’s only lover; as an ambitious social climber, who had seen an opportunity and taken it, there had been men before him and men after. The man she had died with in the wreck of his car had just been the latest in a long list. Selina had grown up in the knowledge that sex between men and women was a bargaining counter; a weapon that both sides wielded without thought or guilt.

She had been a pawn, used ruthlessly by her mother in her campaign to reinforce her claim on her father. He had promised her mother marriage—that much had been made clear in the press, and then had rescinded that promise. She had been her mother’s last-ditch attempt to sway that decision.

All her life until her mother’s death she had been an object of curiosity and pity. Other children knew her story and repeated it to her with various embellishments; her progress at school had been compared with that of her father’s legitimate children at the same age. Her mother’s death and the consequent muddle when the overworked social worker had mistakenly given her surname as that of her mother’s current lover had brought a welcome release from all the publicity.

By that time she had craved anonymity with such intensity that her foster parents had a long struggle to even converse with her in the initial stages. They had been a kind couple and with them she had found a sort of peace, but all the time she had been tense and wary, waiting for the knowing smile, the mocking words.

They had never come and she had been free to pursue her own life as her own person. Deep inside her had grown an intense need to know this man who had fathered her; a feeling that until she did so the past would continue to trap her. She had had her life all mapped out. She intended to enter the legal arena—to enter it and conquer it, she admitted. None of her father’s legitimate children had followed him into the law and not even to herself was she really prepared to admit that her fierce thirst for success owed its being to a deep-rooted need to show her father and the rest of the world what she could do.

The information that her father was looking for a new PA had been a gift from fate she could not refuse, giving her as it did the opportunity she had craved for since childhood; that of observing first-hand the man who had given her life. Did he ever think of her, she wondered bitterly; when he looked at the photograph of his wife and family, did his mind stray to her? Or did he simply consider that the money he had paid her mother had absolved him from all responsibility?

She knew quite well that it was a common fantasy of illegitimate children to crave their absent father’s approval and attention just as she had done, but now, confronted for the first time with the reality of that father she was surprised at how little emotion she felt. No, she amended mentally, it wasn’t that she didn’t feel, it was simply that as yet she was too frozen and tense to be able to analyse her feelings. He was the same as she had imagined and yet different…a human being with whom she had one of the closest blood ties that existed and yet who did not even know who she was. For one moment she was afraid she might actually break down and cry. So much for the man-friend who had once derided her as an emotional cripple. At the time she had flinched from the words, confirming as they had seemed to do the fear that had haunted her childhood; that her father had rejected her through some fault of her own; some defect in her. Now she knew enough to realise that this was a common feeling in children, but even so some of the guilt and pain still remained.

The job was hers; and from now on she would have the time and the opportunity to study him at close quarters. And when she had done so? She frowned slightly. She had not thought that far ahead. What was she expecting, she derided herself; that somehow coming to know her father would be the answer to all the deficiencies she saw in herself? Would knowing him enable her to cast aside her dread of emotional commitment in order that she could take a lover, for instance? One step at a time she told herself. One step at a time.

‘Just before you leave my dear, there’s someone I should like you to meet.’

For one dreadful moment Selina thought he must mean his wife; that was something she wasn’t ready for—not yet—but she realised almost instantly that that was hardly likely. He reached out and pressed his intercom. ‘Would you ask Mr Gresham if he could spare us a moment please, Sue?’ he instructed his secretary.

‘I’d like you to meet Piers before you leave,’ he told Selina with a smile, ‘you and he will be working quite closely together at times—as well as his own briefs, he does a great deal of work for me.’ He broke off as the door was thrust open, Selina turning automatically to witness the entrance of the man he was talking about. Tall, even taller than her father, he combined an intensely powerful sexual aura with an air of cool hauteur that Selina found instantly intimidating. It was all too easy to imagine his effect on a jury—or on a witness—and Selina shuddered finely without realising she was doing so.

Heavy eyelids lifted to reveal eyes of a startlingly deep shade of blue, which studied and dissected her with a scrutiny as powerfully honed and as icy cold as polished steel. Just the effort of holding that penetrating stare made her muscles ache with tension.

‘Piers, come in and meet my new assistant.’

Sir Gerald put a friendly hand on the younger man’s arm as he went forward to meet him. The family resemblance was slight, but there none the less, although Selina suspected that even in his youth her father could never have possessed the cold demeanour that was so evident in his nephew.

‘Miss Thorn.’ His voice was cool too, cool and deep, and just hearing it brought a rash of goosebumps up under her skin. He obviously knew about her already since he knew her name, and Selina was annoyed to find herself almost reluctant to accept the hand he held out towards her. The touch of his fingers was warm, the sensation of his skin against her own so acute that she badly wanted to pull away. He emanated a raw sexuality that made Selina feel uncomfortable. She had come across it before, but had always shied away from such men fearing them instinctively, although she had learned to disguise her fear as contempt. She did so now, without realising what she was doing. Her eyes and mouth cold, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. The swing of her blonde hair revealed the slender length of her throat, her formal business suit emphasising the slender seductiveness of her body.

‘Have we met somewhere before?’

His question over-balanced her, her eyes unknowingly widening and turning a dark smouldering grey as she was forced to look back at him.

‘No…no I don’t think so.’ They had never met before, and he must know it so why…

Sir Gerald’s laughter interrupted her worried thoughts. ‘Not a very original line, Piers, although I must say I don’t blame you for trying.’

Selina was pretty sure that nothing had been further from Piers Gresham’s mind than making a pass at her. She didn’t normally appeal to men of his type and she had always taken care that she should not do so. It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that what her cousin saw in her was a family likeness, but to do so would be the utmost folly. That she should consider the risk almost worthwhile simply to see the expression on his face warned her that she was reacting far too much to him.

After a few minutes brief conversation Piers Gresham left them, and once he had gone Selina found it a good deal easier to relax. Before her interview her sole worry had been that her father might somehow recognise her and she had not really thought beyond that. Now she had been made uncomfortably aware of the fact that her emotional response to her father was not going to be her only problem. Would she be able to work with Piers Gresham without allowing her sexual fear of him to surface? Men like Piers Gresham possessed a masculinity they couldn’t resist reinforcing, just as her father hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of her mother. It would have been easier to bear if her mother had been merely a victim in the whole shabby affair rather than a participant, but her mother herself had admitted to her that she had been determined that her lover should marry her; and that he should desert his children and divorce his wife in order to do so.

‘Why not?’ she had demanded of Selina, sensing her distaste. ‘It’s no more than many other men have done.’

Her mother had been a very selfish woman, Selina acknowledged inwardly, attractive enough to use her looks to get what she wanted from life, but on that occasion she had gambled too high and lost, and she had never let Selina forget that had she known her lover would abandon her, his child would never have been conceived. Once that had hurt, but like all the other pains she had learned to bury it; to deny it life, just as her mother would have denied her life.

She had taken the morning off from her job to go for the interview. There was no secret about it. The judge for whom she worked had encouraged her to apply for the job and had even told her about it. Judge Seaton and his wife were the only two real friends she had, Selina acknowledged as she made her way back to his house. Now semi-retired, he was collating his memoirs and Selina had been helping him. He and his wife had been married fifty years and still found pleasure in one another’s company. Tonight she was going out to dinner with them to celebrate the Judge’s birthday. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Susan Seaton was a motherly woman who couldn’t understand why an attractive girl like her husband’s assistant should so consistently shun the male sex, and Selina had long ago lost the habit of confiding in anyone and was, therefore, unable to tell her.

The Seaton’s house was in a quiet Chelsea mews; elegant and comfortable; a true home Selina reflected as the housekeeper let her in.

‘Good, you’re just in time for lunch,’ her employer exclaimed when he saw her. ‘Come and tell us all about it.’

She did so with the quiet self-control that marked her behaviour. Susan Seaton smiled warmly at her, marvelling at her lack of excitement. At Selina’s age she had already been a mother, but she had never possessed this girl’s cool control. Sometimes it worried her. It was almost unnatural for a girl of her age to be so contained. She had rarely heard her laugh or seen her cry, and she had worked for her husband for three years, living almost as closely as a member of the family.

‘I never thought for a moment that Gerald would turn you down,’ the Judge told her. ‘He’ll make use of your mind,’ he warned her; ‘I know he’s talking about retirement, but he’s still a powerhouse of activity; he’s one of our foremost QCs, with young Piers looking likely to follow in his footsteps. Now there’s a man to reckon with; an excellent defence counsel, but positively lethal in prosecution. He seems to possess an intuition that leads him right to a person’s Achilles heel. He’s as close to Sir Gerald as a son—perhaps closer; in fact I’d say after his mother his uncle is the only other person he’s fond enough of to allow him to sway his judgment. Gerald stepped in and took over the role of surrogate father when his own died. His sister Dulcie was widowed very young. Piers will be taking over from his uncle when Gerald finally retires.’

‘Wait until you meet him,’ Susan Seaton enthused, her eyes sparkling. ‘He is quite devastatingly attractive.’

‘I met him today.’ Selina said it quietly, her head bent over her soup plate. Over her head the older couple exchanged glances.

‘You don’t sound very impressed. He’s a very able, almost an inspired barrister.’

‘He struck me as being rather conceited and sexually domineering,’ Selina said coolly, ‘but it hardly matters what I think. After all we’re not likely to come into much contact with one another.’

‘Don’t be so sure,’ the Judge cautioned her. ‘Gerald relies a good deal on Piers, and since he’s training him to take over from him, I suspect you might find you see quite a lot of him.’

The thought was extremely unpalatable. She had disliked the man on sight, Selina admitted; something about him was as abrasive to her personality as being rubbed with sandpaper; something over and above the fact that he belonged to a type of male animal she most disliked. There had been an instant awareness between them that she couldn’t deny, a look in his eyes that cautioned her to tread carefully, causing her to seethe with resentment that it should be so.

TO celebrate his birthday the Judge had booked a table at one of London’s more exclusive restaurants. Selina left her own small flat in plenty of time to reach the Seaton’s house at the appointed time. Her dress was a plain slip of cream silk she had bought in Brown’s sale. High-necked and long-sleeved, she considered it a suitable addition to her wardrobe, without realising that the silk moved with her as she walked, caressing her elegant body with a sensuality that very few men could remain unaware of. She simply saw it as the right sort of dress to wear out to dinner. She liked good clothes and wore them well; choosing them for elegance and wearability rather than sexual appeal, not knowing that the body they clothed was sexual enticement all by itself. Having taught herself to clamp down on any sexual urges she might feel almost from childhood, Selina was blind to them in others. If she ever happened to catch a man looking at her, studying her, she would look back in an icy disdain that normally made him retreat. The first attempt any male escort made to touch her was always the last. Sex was a weapon that could inflict terrible wounds on the innocent as well as the guilty and it was one she herself would never descend to using. She might be her mother’s daughter, but she would never be branded as she had been. She would succeed without using her body; without betraying her principles. She had to.

The restaurant was busy; a sea of unfamiliar faces; the table to which the Seatons and Selina were shown was slightly secluded from the others.

Susan Seaton ordered her food with relish. In many ways Selina almost envied Susan. She was a happy, contented woman who had devoted her life to her husband and family and who had been repaid in turn by their love and protection.

Beyond the tables and diners there was a small dance floor. Music was provided by an immaculately dinner-suited pianist.

‘My, it quite takes me back,’ Susan sighed nostalgically as they waited for their food. ‘Do you remember, Henry, when we used to go to the Savoy? You took me there for our first wedding anniversary.’

‘And you were sick,’ the Judge smiled.

‘And we both thought it must have been something I’d eaten, until we discovered that I was carrying John.’

The Seatons had three children and several grandchildren. At the weekend they would be driving down to their eldest daughter’s for a family celebration. Selina closed her mind against the thought of it. Family occasions were something that belonged to other people. They had no place in her life.

They were halfway through their meal when the Judge put down his knife and fork and said mildly, ‘Good heavens, talk about coincidences. There’s Piers Gresham.’

‘Where?’ His wife craned her head to look. ‘Who’s that with him?’ she asked. ‘Do you recognise her?’

The Judge shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea who she is.’

Selina glanced up from her food and glanced briefly at the other couple—Piers Gresham was seated several tables away facing her. All she could see of his female companion was her back view, but that was enough for Selina to grimace slightly. The other woman was wearing a dress that revealed most of her tanned back; a dark fall of hair brushing her neck. She was dressed in a way designed to catch a man’s eye, and as always Selina felt her muscles tighten at the sight of such open sexuality. It offended her and she shrank from it, unaware that her distaste was mirrored in her face or that she was being observed. Her reactions to other people’s sexuality always distressed Selina; she knew deep down inside herself they were a legacy from what she had endured as a child; from knowing that she was the fruit of a union that had been motivated on one side by sexual greed and on the other by social avarice but knowing the reason for her reactions did not help her to come to terms with them.

Piers Gresham had obviously seen them. When they had finished eating he came across to their table, urbane and charming as he chatted to the Judge and his wife, but his eyes were constantly assessing Selina, his scrutiny of her making her tense and uneasy.

‘You and Selina met this morning, I believe,’ the Judge said turning to draw her into the conversation. ‘Your uncle is gaining a very valuable aide in her.’

‘I’m sure he is. Perhaps you’d care to dance with me, Selina, and we could get to know one another a little better?’

Other couples were already dancing and the Seatons obviously saw nothing untoward in the invitation because they were both smiling expectantly at her. Across the room her eyes slid to the dark-haired girl waiting at the table and a fierce surge of anger swept over her. Who did he think he was? Some sort of irresistible God who had merely to speak to have women worshipping at his feet? It didn’t strike her that her reaction was wildly illogical; she was possessed by some elemental surge of emotion that warned her that this man was dangerous and to be repudiated at all costs. Without stopping to weigh her words, she said coldly, ‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind.’ Her eyes flicked over to the girl waiting for him, and so she missed the glint of cold anger in his eyes, ‘After all, our relationship is going to be professional rather than social, and I prefer to have things plain from the start. It makes for a much less complicated life.’ She looked straight at him as she delivered her cool words, caught off-guard by the depth of anger she saw in his eyes.

‘That was rather over the top wasn’t it?’ her employer remarked when Piers had gone.

Trying not to flush at the faint criticism in his voice Selina shrugged. ‘He only asked me out of politeness. He already had someone to dance with.’

‘Even so, you rejected him extremely pointedly,’ the Judge told her. ‘No man likes being rejected, Selina,’ he told her gently, ‘especially not in public. Be very careful, my dear. He could make an extremely powerful enemy.’

‘Because I refused to dance with him?’ Selina injected a note of acid scorn into her voice. ‘Wouldn’t that be rather small-minded?’

‘He’s a man, my dear,’ the Judge told her wryly, ‘and we males are notoriously vulnerable where our egos are concerned. We weren’t the only ones to hear you refuse him,’ he added gently, ‘and you must admit that as a put down it was decidedly strong.’

Not wanting to admit even to herself that she had been betrayed into hasty speech because of her own response to his sexuality, Selina shrugged slim shoulders. ‘The odd rejection does none of us any harm from time to time.’ She glanced over to where Piers was now dancing with his companion, and added cynically, ‘I doubt he’ll lose any sleep over it. He seems more than happy with the dancing companion he’s got.’

‘Umm, well tread carefully,’ the Judge warned her. ‘He’s not a man I’d like to get on the wrong side of.’

Instinct had already told Selina that and she couldn’t understand why she had been so rude to him. There had been other men before whom she had disliked equally as much and yet she had managed to conceal it from them. Not so with this man. He had recognised her rejection for what it was; she had seen the realisation flare and burn in his eyes and she shivered sensing that there would be some form of retribution…

Whatever it was she could cope with it. She had coped with similar situations before and emerged unscathed. What she had to do now was to concentrate on getting to know her father so that she could at last free herself from the guilts of the past, because until she did they would continue to poison the present and the future.

CHAPTER TWO

SELINA’S first week in Gerald Harvey’s employ passed quickly. During their interview she had been too wrought up and tense to do much more than concentrate on his questions, but now that she was settling down into the day-to-day routine she found herself watching him; wondering what he would say if he knew the truth; how he would react. She had promised herself long ago that she would never fall into the trap of wanting an emotional commitment from the man who had fathered her and all through her growing up, although she had followed his career, she had never ever allowed herself to think of him as her father—to her he had simply been her mother’s lover; and then her opponent in a battle in which she herself had been used as no more than another weapon. She had never anticipated feeling any emotional response to him; after all why should she; and yet, illogically, it was there; it was disconcerting to discover how easily they meshed and at the end of the first week he turned to her and said warmly.

‘Selina, I’m going to bless the day I hired you. We seem to have achieved a working rapport in a remarkable short space of time. Do you think you’ll be happy with us?’

Happy? Selina tried to analyse the word. What was happiness? She had reached a goal and that in itself brought with it its own sense of achievement, but happy…

‘I’m sure I shall be,’ she told him equably, lowering her head so that he couldn’t see her face. This man was her father; they were united by ties of blood and heritage and yet…

‘Is something bothering you?’

He asked the question quietly, coming to stand immediately behind her, one hand on her arm. There was nothing sexual in his touch; it was merely concern, and Selina was shaken to discover that tears were pricking her eyes.

A sound outside her vision broke the silence between them. Someone had opened the door, and Selina felt her nerves curl in bitter tension as she heard her father say genially, ‘Piers, it’s good to have you back. Did all go well?’

It had been a relief to Selina to discover that Piers Gresham was away for several days. He had gone to stay with his godfather, Sue, Gerald’s secretary, had told her. But now he was back.

‘Fine.’

Selina could feel the intensity of his gaze concentrated on her, forcing her to lift her head. Something in her eyes made his narrow and sharpen, moving from her face to her father’s and then back to hers again, his mouth grim. Sue ran through to advise her father that she had a call waiting on the line for him and as both she and Piers moved away out of earshot Selina was stunned to hear him say warningly.

‘I don’t know what game you’re playing with my uncle but it better not be the one I think it is. He is a married man you know, or is that what you prefer? If so, you won’t find him any pushover, he was nearly caught that way once before.’

Sick to her stomach Selina stumbled past him, making for the sanctuary of the Ladies’ cloakroom. Once inside she was furious with herself for the nausea that choked her throat. What was wrong with her? She had only herself to blame for Piers’ hostility. But that was no reason for him to assume that simply because his uncle was touching her arm that she had deliberately… Her stomach lurched. The man was her father for God’s sake. But he did not know that and neither did Piers Gresham.

It was a good fifteen minutes before she felt in control enough to leave the Ladies. On her way back to her office she passed Sue. The other girl gave her a curious glance. Sue had a boyfriend with whom she lived and to whom she was devoted. That did not stop her from flirting with every male who crossed her path, though. However, she was a good-natured girl, as warm and open as she herself was silent and reserved Selina acknowledged, returning her smile.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine. Is Sir Gerald off the phone?’

When Sue nodded Selina opened the door and walked into her father’s room, but it was Piers who stood behind the desk not her father. She came to a full stop, aware that the tiny hairs at the back of her neck were raised in primaeval awareness.

‘Excuse me.’ Her voice sounded artificially polite. ‘I was looking for Sir Gerald.’

‘He’s just popped out. Don’t run away, I’d like to talk to you.’ As he spoke he put down the brief he had been reading and came towards her. A panicky desire to turn and flee almost overwhelmed her, but Selina withstood it. She was going to have to accustom herself to this man’s presence; after all they would be working in the same set of chambers; they were bound to meet occasionally and the sooner she learned not to react so intensely to him the better it would be.

‘What made you apply for this post?’

His question caught her off-guard. For a moment she said nothing and then stammered. ‘I…I…I was ready for a change,’ she managed at last.

‘Is that so? You know you’re remarkably well qualified for a young lady who is content to be merely a PA. Have you never thought of taking on something more challenging? You have an excellent degree.’

‘I have my ambitions yes.’ Selina tried to mimic his cool self-possession.

‘And what are they, I wonder?’ He was coming towards her now, stalking her almost, she thought angrily. What was he hoping to achieve? ‘My uncle thinks very highly of you. In fact I’d say he’s taken to you in a remarkably short space of time. Most unusual. He’s normally a very cautious man where attractive young women are concerned.’

‘Why?’ Selina asked flippantly. ‘Does he have a jealous wife?’

Just for a second she was alarmed by the gleam in the midnight blue eyes, but then it was gone, his expression flat and unreadable.

‘Not very clever, Miss Thorn,’ he said at last. ‘If you’re only half as clever as I think you are you must have read all there is to read on my uncle; done all your background research before you applied for this job. You know very well why he would want to avoid any sort of entanglement outside his marriage don’t you?’

Selina felt as though the floor had suddenly dropped away beneath her, leaving her on thin ice.

‘I know that many years ago your uncle was involved with another woman,’ she agreed coolly, turning aside with what she hoped was a calm disdain as she added, ‘but then so have many other prominent men.’

‘Indeed they have, but very few have attracted the subsequent blaze of publicity and notoriety suffered by my uncle. I was eight years old at the time. My aunt almost suffered a nervous breakdown.’

‘I’m sure it must have been an extremely traumatic time for you all.’ Selina was distant, her voice clipped. Don’t tell me any more, it warned him, I don’t want to hear, but her warning signals were ignored.

‘My uncle has three daughters; the eldest one was expecting her first child at that time; she lost it; the second ran away from school because she could not endure the torment inflicted on her by her school-mates. You’re looking quite pale, Miss Thorn. Do you find what I’m relating to you upsetting?’

‘It was all a long time ago,’ she managed to say, hating him now with an intensity that made her long to physically assault him. How dared he tell her all this…. Didn’t he think that she had suffered…that she… She pulled herself together before she lost control completely.

‘I can assure you that I have no desire to break up your uncle’s marriage,’ she told him crisply. That much at least was true.

‘Maybe not,’ he agreed slowly, ‘but you have some ulterior means for being here. I can sense it. Body signals are a very strange thing, Miss Thorn,’ he added watching her. ‘They give away to others so much more than we want them to see. Why do you dislike me so much?’

‘How could I dislike you? I barely know you.’ Selina forced a cool smile, ‘I think you’re suffering from an ego problem, Mr Gresham. I am merely indifferent to you.’ She was lying and she suspected that he knew it but she wasn’t going to back down.

‘Is that a fact.’ He said it softly closing the distance between them before she could move. ‘Well, let’s just find out how much truth there is in that statement shall we?’

The hard warmth of his mouth as it covered hers shocked her into submission. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her body, but her own refused to mirror its firm rhythm. It thudded threadily, her body tensing in mingled shock and rejection, her eyes blazing bitter defiance and fury as she fought against the domination of his hands and mouth. He was kissing her with ruthless precision and a great deal of sexual expertise; her body shamingly recognised that, even while her mind was disgusted by it. As soon as he released her Selina slapped him, panting hard as she delivered the hard blow.

It left the palm of her hand smarting and a white welt of flesh against his lean cheek which was now slowly filling with dark blood.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to repeat the experiment.’ For some reason his soft words brought darting flares of pain. He watched her, eyes slitted, ‘Do you know,’ he added, ‘I’ve always considered that that particular form of retaliation sprang more from sexual frustration than annoyance. Perhaps sometime it might be worth while putting my theory to the test.’

The way he said it made her blood run through her veins in angry fire. ‘Not with me you don’t,’ Selina told him rashly.

For a moment something came and then went in his eyes and when he spoke again, he appeared totally in control, unlike her, Selina reflected bitterly as he drawled. ‘Well now a man with an ego like mine just might consider that challenge to be an invitation, my dear. Is that what turns you on? To slap a man down and then needle him into physical savagery? If so, it’s a dangerous hobby.’

She wanted to spit and fly at him like an angry cat. No one had ever tossed such outrageous accusations at her before, and certainly not in a languid, almost soft voice that suggested that there was no possible way in which its owner’s assessment of her could be wrong.

If her father hadn’t walked back into his office just then Selina didn’t know how she would have reacted. As it was she muttered something about a phone call and excused herself. It was only later, safe in her own flat, that she was forced to admit to herself that resent it though she did, Piers Gresham had managed to provoke a physical response from her in a way that no man had done before. Even now she found it impossible to accept that there had been that moment of fierce need to respond to his kiss; that sensation of melting and then burning that urged her to yield. But she hadn’t done so. He had broken the kiss before she had betrayed herself that much.

From the first moment she saw him she had known that Piers Gresham was a man to be wary of. Now this impression had been reinforced a thousandfold. It would be a long time before she forgot how he had looked at her when he questioned her. So he didn’t trust her did he; well she didn’t trust him either.

Back in her flat that evening some impulse she couldn’t contain led her to study her features carefully in her bedroom mirror. What had Piers seen there that had led him to make his accusations? A formidable man the Judge had called him; for formidable she would have said diabolical Selina thought mentally. Even now hours after her encounter with him her pulses still fluttered at the thought of him, her mind and body unable to relax from the turmoil he had caused, and she for the space of one heartbeat had been in real danger of succumbing to him, of forgetting everything she had learned during her life and responding to his kiss… It would never happen again. Maybe the Judge had been right and she had been wrong to react as she had done in the restaurant, but even then her body had been sending her signals that had terrified her and she had reacted instinctively, too frightened by them to use reason and logic.

For some reason that evening she found it impossible to settle. Normally she enjoyed the quiet hours of solitude in her flat. After the hectic bustle of her foster parents home, where, despite their kindness, she had never felt she fitted in, she had come to relish the peace and quiet of her own home. The books she had collected at Oxford lined her bookshelves; the antique dresser she had found at a country market and lovingly restored holding her china and few little treasures. Her flat was in a large old house with a pleasant garden which she shared with the other tenants, most of whom she knew to say good morning to but very little else. That was the way she had wanted her life, free of complications; of people who might ask questions and force her to lie.

At university she had dreamed that somehow she might be able to follow in her father’s footsteps, but of course it had been impossible. One needed financial backing to train as a barrister, something she did not have, and although her tutor had suggested a legal career in industry she had not been interested. Without a proper legal training she would always have remained in a junior position in a large department. That wasn’t what she wanted. The law courts, the Inns of Temple, the measured, controlled world of the law; that was where she had set her sights. That was why she had settled for jobs for which she was desperately over-qualified because at least then she was breathing in the atmosphere she craved.

All through her teens she had been consumed by a desperate need to prove to the father who had rejected her what he lost in doing so. As she grew older those dreams had faded, reality taking their place, and yet she had no more been able to resist the temptation to apply for her present job, knowing it would bring her into close contact with her father, than she had been able to resist Piers’ kiss.

Working closely with her father was a bitter-sweet experience. She had long ago abandoned her adolescent dreams of winning his admiration and love and even her resentment over the way she had been rejected had eased, but there was still a measure of pain in seeing and knowing him when he did not know her.

She was glad of the weekend, because it gave her time to relax and unwind, but on Sunday morning when Susan Seaton rang and invited her over for lunch, Selina was ready to admit that for once she had had enough of her own company.

As she had half-anticipated the Seatons had several other guests. Susan Seaton, used to the demands of a large family, enjoyed entertaining, and Selina found herself chatting to an attractive older woman who also appeared to be on her own.

‘Since Susan is too busy to introduce us, we had better perform that task for ourselves. I’m Dulcie Gresham,’ she told Selina.

With a small start of shock, Selina acknowledged the introduction. ‘Selina Thorn,’ she told her companion, suddenly wishing she was talking to anyone other than this woman. Now that she knew her name it was impossible not to recognise her as Piers’ mother. It was from her that he had inherited his dark hair and his navy-blue eyes, although in his mother they were softer, more compassionate.

‘Goodness, what a coincidence,’ she exclaimed warmly, ‘You’re my brother’s new PA, aren’t you? But then of course, not so much of a coincidence really is it, because the legal world is a very close-knit one and of course, you did work for the Judge previously. How are you enjoying working for Gerald, or would you rather not say?’

‘I’m enjoying it,’ Selina told her truthfully. ‘It’s very different from working for the Judge of course, but then I was ready for a change.’

‘Yes, my son tells me you’re extremely highly qualified. Have you never thought of the bar as a career for yourself?’

His looks weren’t the only thing he had inherited from his mother Selina thought wryly. Although it was less abrasive in Dulcie Gresham, Selina could see where her son got his sharp intelligence from.

Almost as though she sensed her hesitation her interrogator’s manner softened, a wry smile curving her mouth. ‘Forgive me, I’m afraid at times I do sound rather like the cross examination. Years of living with lawyers I’m afraid. My late husband was a barrister as well. In fact I should very much have liked a career at the bar myself—I find it fascinating even now, but of course in those days…’

Charmed against her will Selina heard herself admitting. ‘I should have liked to make a career in law, but after university there just weren’t the funds.’

Her companion’s expression was instantly apologetic. ‘My dear, how crass of me, I am sorry. Of course, it is an expensive career to train for, but you are enjoying working as my brother’s PA. His chambers have an excellent reputation and you will find yourself involved in all manner of fascinating cases I am sure. How did you get to hear about the job? I didn’t think Gerald intended to advertise it until later in the year. He suffered a slight heart attack just before Christmas you know and Mary, his wife, and I prevailed upon him with my son’s assistance to get himself some more help at the office.’

Was she being subjected to a subtle investigation Selina wondered? But no, she was being unduly suspicious. Even if Piers Gresham had confided to his mother his suspicions of her, it was taking coincidence too far to believe that the older woman had come to this luncheon partly purely to question her.

‘The Judge mentioned it,’ Selina said truthfully. ‘He knows of my fascination with that side of the law, and he thought it might be an ideal position for me.’ What she couldn’t say was the heart-searching she had endured just after the Judge had dropped his bombshell. Here it was, being dropped right into her lap; just the sort of opportunity she had dreamed about as an adolescent. The chance to meet and get to know her father. However, her own strong moral code had made her question the wisdom of trying for the job. If her identity was discovered it would lead to unpleasantness; working for her father was probably only likely to cause heartache to herself as well.

She had long ago abandoned her childhood fantasies of a loving, caring father, and yet the reality of working for him, knowing that he was sublimely indifferent to her existence might be more than she could cope with. In the end, though, the temptation had proved too great, and she had not been able to resist.

‘I’m sorry.’ Selina came out of her reverie to realise that her company had been saying something, and that she was now regarding her with a faintly quizzical expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised again, colouring faintly. ‘I’m afraid, I didn’t…’

‘I was just remarking that Harry Frobisher is looking over this way rather a lot. Do you know him?’

Harold Frobisher was a young solicitor whose father had been a friend of the Judge’s. Selina didn’t particularly like him. He was a slick, sharp young man who was overfond of touching her when she would have preferred him not to.

‘Slightly.’ Her response was guarded and again Dulcie Gresham smiled. ‘I quite agree,’ she said lightly. ‘Not a particularly attractive young man. Do you have a boyfriend, Selina? I may call you Selina, mayn’t I?’

‘Please do. No…not at the moment.’

‘Very wise. A pretty girl like you should take her time before deciding to settle down.’

Selina saw the Seatons making their way towards them and smiled warmly, unaware that Dulcie Gresham was watching her until she said in a thoughtful voice. ‘Do you know, Selina, you remind me of someone, but I cannot for the life of me think who it is.’

Selina was glad that she was looking away, otherwise she might have betrayed herself completely. Cold fingers of fear clutched at her heart. Dear God, don’t let her realise the truth, she prayed… She couldn’t bear to be revealed here, publicly, before the Seatons whom she respected and liked so much, as the daughter of the woman who had caused so great a scandal in their small circle.

For once fate seemed to be on her side. The Seatons reached them, Susan hugging her warmly while the Judge kissed Dulcie’s cheek.

‘I can see that you’ve introduced yourselves to each other. I take it that Piers couldn’t make it, Dulcie?’ Susan released Selina to question her friend.

‘Other commitments I’m afraid,’ Dulcie confirmed. ‘But he does send his apologies and he will be calling to collect me later. An urgent brief that needed studying.’

‘Yes, it will be the Mountford case,’ the Judge interrupted. ‘I heard they wanted him for that. Unusual for him to take on a divorce though, isn’t it?’

‘He and John Mountford were at school together, and there’s rather a lot of money at stake as well as his two children. Divorce is the least appealing side of the law isn’t it?’ Dulcie said to Selina. ‘When he was first training for the bar Piers worked for a firm of divorce lawyers. In many ways I blame that period for the cynicism I see in him now. You’ve met my son, Selina?’

‘Yes, briefly.’ She wouldn’t have said anything more, but the Judge overheard them and laughed. ‘I should say so, Dulcie, I was privileged to witness her giving that son of yours a most definite put-down.’ He went on to quickly explain what had happened, making the small incident seem far more dramatic than it had actually been. ‘I warned her that Piers wouldn’t take too kindly to her rebuff,’ he concluded smiling at Selina.

‘Henry, you’re embarrassing Selina,’ Susan Seaton told her husband chidingly.’ He was using a little of his court room licence there, Dulcie, I’m afraid,’ she told her friend. ‘All Selina did was refuse Piers’ invitation to dance. After all he was with another girl at the time,’ she added.

‘Yes, I’m afraid my son is inclined to behave rather cavalierly when the mood takes him. A result of losing his father at a very impressionable age. Fortunately my brother stepped in before too much damage was done, but Piers had inherited more than his fair share of the Harvey pig-headedness. Gerald has at least learned to temper his a little, although it’s still there, witness the battle we had to get him to employ an assistant. I shudder to think what would happen if he and Piers ever really clashed.’

As the Seaton’s maid appeared at that moment to announce lunch the conversation came to a close. Selina found to her dismay that she was seated next to Harry; and moreover that he was intent on making himself as obnoxious as possible.

‘How about letting me take you out to dinner tonight?’ he invited when she had removed his hand from her knee for the third time. ‘I know this little place…’

‘Thank you, but I already have a date.’ It was Selina’s stock-in-trade lie, which she had found far more effective than an outright refusal.

‘Have you indeed?’ Interest sharpened the dark eyes. ‘Well, well and I thought you were quite the little hermit. Anyone I know?’ The question was asked casually, but Selina felt his tension. Ever since she had first been introduced to him two years ago Harry had been trying to persuade her to go out with him. Although she didn’t have much contact with the other secretaries and staff who worked for men in the close-knit circle of which the Judge was a part, she had heard various rumours that Harry considered himself something of a Don Juan.

Unlike Piers Gresham he did not possess that aura of intense masculine sexuality which she found so frightening, and because of it he was much easier to deal with. Even so she was relieved when the end of the meal released her from his company.

‘Harry proving rather over-amorous?’ Dulcie Gresham asked sympathetically joining Selina over by one of the windows. ‘That young man really does lack manner I’m afraid.’

‘He’ll soon weary of the chase,’ the Judge comforted Selina. ‘He lacks staying power—unlike some I could name,’ he added to Dulcie with a chuckle. ‘Now I couldn’t see that son of yours letting anything stop him getting something he wanted.’

‘Umm…’ A little to Selina’s surprise, her response was not totally approving. ‘I’m afraid that Piers still has to learn to temper his judgments with compassion, and I think one or two set-backs might just hasten that process. Although in many ways his determination is an asset, in others it isn’t. It gives him the power to overcome those who are weaker than him too easily—not always a good thing.’

The Seatons excused themselves to chat to their other guests and as though sensing Selina’s surprise, Dulcie Gresham said humorously, ‘Did you expect me to be a totally doting mother? Well, in many ways I am, but my love for him doesn’t blind me entirely to Piers’ faults. I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but my brother suffered a most appalling scandal when he was younger. Piers was eight at the time and adored my brother.’ A frown touched Dulcie Gresham’s expertly made up face. ‘It didn’t help that Piers had been involved in the scandal—whether by accident or design I do not know—in that the woman concerned had visited him at school with my brother. I was away in the States at the time. Although Piers never really talked much about it, I suspect he suffered a feeling of betrayal. My brother was his God in many ways…and I think he felt that he’d been used. However, that’s all water under the bridge now, but I have the sneaky feeling that Piers transferred all the bad feelings he felt from my brother to his woman friend. Certainly he treats the majority of our sex with a cynicism I find hard not to criticise at times. No doubt he’ll be one of those men who marry late in life; probably a sweet young thing who he’ll always hold at a slight distance. That thought saddens me very much. I had such happiness with his father. Piers tends to dismiss my views as romantic, I know, but he is after all my son, and very much a Harvey. I just hope he doesn’t discover too late that even cynics fall in love.

‘You don’t think I should be telling you all this do you?’ she asked, surprising Selina with her perception. ‘Perhaps not. Certainly Piers would be furious, but Henry was right you know. He won’t take your rejection kindly— Oh I’m not suggesting he’ll take it out on you professionally. He might have faults, but I don’t believe small-mindedness is one of them, but he’s a man who isn’t used to female rejection, Selina, and if you’ll take my advice you’ll tread warily with him. I should hate to see you hurt.’

‘But you hardly know me.’ For once Selina could not disguise her feelings.

The blue eyes so like her son’s softened. ‘Perhaps not, but I feel as though I know you.’

In order to avoid Harry, Selina decided to leave early. She found her hosts deep in conversation with another couple and politely interrupted to say her goodbyes.

‘Selina, you must come round one night next week, and tell us all about your new job,’ the Judge insisted. Promising to do so, she looked round for Dulcie Gresham, but there was no sign of the older woman. Quenching a small stab of disappointment that she had left without seeking her out, Selina went upstairs to claim her coat. She too had felt at ease with her in a way she had never expected; but then of course, she wasn’t simply Piers Gresham’s mother; she was also her aunt. It was like unlocking the door to a hidden pain; the old childish resentment of her father’s legitimate children came gushing back; they had not been rejected by their father; they had not had to endure the taunts of their peers; the knowledge that their mother lived with a succession of men.

Stop it, stop it, she cautioned herself. Encouraging those sort of feelings would cause her nothing but anguish; she had taught herself that long long ago. At university she had realised that she had to disassociate herself from her burden of guilt if she was to live in peace. The guilt was not hers, and surely if she told herself that firmly and often enough, she would come to believe it.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t see the other two people in the hallway until she reached it. The colour receded quickly from her face as she saw Piers Gresham standing beside his mother chatting with the Seatons.

‘Selina, my dear, there you are.’ Dulcie Gresham greeted her warmly. ‘I was just asking Susan where you were. I would have hated to leave without saying goodbye. Piers, why on earth didn’t you tell me what a charming girl Selina is?’

His mother was laying it on a trifle thickly Selina thought, but she was still unable to repress the small gleam of amusement that lit her eyes, a totally natural smile curving her mouth.

‘Perhaps because I suspected it was something you’d soon discover for yourself,’ Piers drawled, helping his mother on with her coat. His voice was mild, but there was nothing mild about the look he gave Selina. It dulled the light in her eyes instantly, her mouth freezing in its half-smile as she caught the full force of his icy stare. That she should be amused by his mother’s comment plainly infuriated him and he was making no bones about letting her know it.

Turning away Selina felt her heart plummet as Harry strolled into the hall. On seeing her there he exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Just going… You must let me give you a lift. Now…no protests, I know you don’t have a car.’

Before she could speak, Selina heard Dulcie Gresham saying calmly, ‘No need for that, Harry, we’re dropping Selina off. Come along, dear,’ she added, touching her arm. ‘Best not to keep Piers waiting, he does hate it so, but then I suppose you’ve noticed that already.’

Too bemused to protest, Selina let herself be shepherded towards the door, unhappily aware of the speculation and chagrin in Harry’s eyes as he glanced from Piers to herself. No doubt he was assuming that Piers was the ‘date’ she had fibbed to him about. Well, it was scarcely important, she told herself, taking a deep breath as the front door closed behind them.

‘It was very kind of you to rescue me like that,’ she began, refusing to look at Piers, but all too aware of his dark, magnetic presence behind her, ‘but really I can make my own way home.’

‘Nonsense.’ Dulcie’s tone was brisk. ‘Of course we will give you a lift.’

‘Perhaps Miss Thorn is trying delicately to inform us that she would have preferred to accept Harry’s invitation,’ Piers put in smoothly. ‘After all, Mother dear, you didn’t actually give her any chance to respond.’

‘Selina loathes the man,’ his mother told him succinctly. ‘And don’t be so pedantic, Piers. I’m not a member of one of your juries you know. You didn’t want to go with Harry, did you, Selina?’

She was caught in a trap. If she told the truth she would be obliged to accept the lift that Dulcie had offered, and yet she could hardly be more unaware of Piers’ disinclination to give her a lift.

In the end she opted for the middle road. ‘I didn’t particularly want to go with Harry, no, but you really need not give me a lift. The tube is very convenient.’

‘There you are, Mother.’ Piers’ voice was oddly harsh. ‘Miss Thorn has as little liking for our company as she does the obnoxious Harry’s. And since she’s old enough to make her own decisions I suggest we allow her to do so.’

‘Piers, really!’

Selina could tell both from his mother’s expression and voice that she genuinely was embarrassed. Wanting to put her at her ease she said quickly, ‘No, really, Mr Gresham is quite right…I…’ She turned away and rushed down the drive, not wanting either of them to see the sudden sheen of tears she knew was in her eyes. Why did she never learn, she demanded fiercely of herself as she made her way home; why had she laid herself so open to his contempt and humiliation. She had known from the first what manner of man he was. Perhaps if she had not refused to dance with him in quite such strong terms they might…but no…he had openly admitted that he was suspicious of her, Selina reminded herself.

What had she let herself in for in giving in to the compulsion to know more of her father? It was too late to turn back and yet every instinct she possessed warned her to keep away from Piers Gresham; to avoid him at all costs. Unwittingly, she touched her mouth, withdrawing her fingers as though they burned when she realised what she was doing. Just for a moment she had been reliving the pressure of his mouth on hers; fierce and angry, communicating to her a thousand emotions too complex to analyse but which had somehow pierced all her barriers and distrust of his sex to provoke from her a physical response which still had the power to disturb her.

CHAPTER THREE

IT was several weeks before Selina saw Dulcie Gresham again, and then only by chance. She had slipped into a local record shop on impulse during her lunch hour, tempted inside by a window display which featured a Vivaldi recording she had coveted for a long time. Music was one of her great passions, and having just received her salary cheque there was no reason why she should not indulge herself a little.

Dulcie Gresham spotted her while she was studying the recordings on offer.

‘Selina, my dear,’ she exclaimed touching her lightly on the arm. ‘What a piece of good luck, I have been meaning to call in at chambers for some time to see you, but somehow or other other things have intervened. Ah, you are tempted by the Vivaldi I see. They’re having a brief season of his work at the Opera House soon. I’m a great Vivaldi fan myself, I don’t suppose you’d consider keeping me company there one evening?’

Selina knew she ought to refuse. Dulcie Gresham was her employer’s sister and the mother of a man who had been bluntly rude about his suspicions of her, and yet, half-bemused by the invitation, she heard herself accepting. She liked Dulcie Gresham; there was no getting away from it. She was a woman of her time, but she had a strength that Selina felt drawn to.

‘Good girl. I normally would have gone with Piers, but he’s very tied up with a new case at the moment.’ She gave Selina a thoughtful look. ‘I must apologise for his rude behaviour the other week.’

‘There’s really no need,’ Selina forced a smile. ‘I’m afraid the plain truth is that your son and I simply don’t get on.’

‘Umm…’ This time the look she gave Selina made the latter colour slightly defensively. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is mutual, although in your son’s case his dislike of me is intensified by the fact that he’s decided my presence as Sir Gerald’s PA is motivated by some dark and sinister purpose.’

It was impossible not to keep a faint bitterness out of her voice and on the point of marvelling at how easy she found it to speak freely to this woman of all women, Selina was checked by the thread of amusement in her voice when she said solemnly, ‘You don’t say? Good heavens, he must have a far more inventive imagination than I ever dreamed. Seriously, my dear,’ she added gently, ‘I suspect a good deal of this antipathy that exists between you springs from nothing more than hurt male pride, although I’m sure he’d be furious to hear me say as much. My son prides himself on his logical mind; he tends to forget that he is as equally vulnerable to human emotions as the rest of us, unfortunately.’

Selina didn’t have much of her lunch hour left, and because hearing his mother talk about him to her in a way she knew he would resent made her feel acutely uncomfortable for some reason, she made her excuses and hurried back to the office.

Sir Gerald was out for lunch and she intended to make good use of his absence to catch up on her work. They had developed a good working relationship; she had discovered in him an ability to condense even the most complicated information in a way that made listening to him an education. There were times it was true when she was almost overwhelmed by the need to turn to him and tell him who she was, but she knew deep inside herself that she never would. She cherished the tenuous link of affection that was developing between them too much to hazard it by telling him the truth and seeing him withdraw from her. She had been right in thinking that applying for this post could cause her pain; and yet there was a joy mingled with that pain. She was learning to know the father she had never had as a child, and although sometimes she was contemptuous of herself for taking so much pleasure from so little she knew that if that link was severed now it would cause her to suffer.

When Sir Gerald returned Piers was with him. In her own mind now Selina had got used to calling her father ‘Sir Gerald’ and she responded warmly to his smile when he walked in, until she realised he wasn’t alone.

‘I want to go over the Hardwicke case with Piers,’ he told her. ‘There are several aspects of it that I’m not happy with. Could you bring us the file please, Selina. Oh, and I’d like you to stay and take a few notes.’

One of the first things Selina had done since starting her job had been to sort through the files. The wealth of legal documents and notices each one held was far too complex for Sue, the secretary, to be able to handle and now each file possessed a chart just inside the front cover, documenting its progress.

Piers frowned briefly when she placed the file on the desk between the two men. She had not seen much of him at all, much to her relief, but she could tell from the way his cool gaze rested on her for a second that he had not changed his mind about her; he still did not trust her. She moved the file closer to her father and in doing so tautened the fabric of her silk blouse across her breasts. Her movement had not been a provocative one and yet she was instantly aware of Piers’ attention switching from the file to her body. Anger fired through her as she was forced to withstand his openly sexual appraisal of her, but she banked it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of provoking a response. It was far better to simply pretend that she was unaware of his scrutiny.

She thought she had succeeded until Sir Gerald excused himself from the office to go and give Sue a message for a client he was expecting. As soon as they were alone Piers lifted his eyes from the document he was studying and said, ‘What is it about my looking at you that makes you feel so uncomfortable I wonder?’

Infuriated both by his arrogant air of superiority and her own response to it she retaliated curtly, ‘That wasn’t discomfort it was annoyance—exactly the same annoyance you would feel were a woman to look at you in the way you were looking at me.’

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