A Summer Storm Page 8

  He was smooth-talking her. His hands slid down to her waist, burning through the fine cotton shirt until she regained her balance. The breath still came racing through her lips, but for a different reason now. Angry as she still was, his closeness excited her, as did the feel of his hands almost spanning her narrow waist in a grip that was as intimate as it was unbearable. So close, he blocked out the stars and the sea, filling her whole world.

  Frustrated and a little frightened by her body’s treachery, she muttered, ‘You have no right-’

  He broke in with smooth amusement. ‘Listen to me, you little Spitfire. I have not manipulated you. I merely anticipated what your objections would be and saved time by forestalling them. Sarah needs you more than any of the children in your class. She’ll repay you tenfold for your affection and your efforts with her.’ His voice deepened into warm persuasion. ‘She needs your warmth and your practical sympathy, your companionship and your love. You know what it’s like to lose a dearly loved parent. Her previous governess made no secret of the fact that she thought her a whiny, spoilt little object. You know exactly how to handle her, and she’s already halfway to loving you.’

  He was working seductive magic on her heart-strings. Oh, he was clever, she though distantly. Somehow he had discerned that she was hungry for someone to love, and he was using that weakness to play on her sympathy. Unfortunately, although she knew exactly what he was doing, she was half convinced that she could give Sarah what she needed.

  His voice was that of the tempter-smooth, reasonable, with secret, hidden aims. If she took the job would she be laying up heartbreak for herself? What she felt for him now was merely a physical attraction, the appeal of a virile man for a nubile woman; he too felt it, the common coinage of desire between male and female. But he controlled his appetites, they did not control him. He was able to subdue them if they became inconvenient, as he had the minute it had occurred to that calculating, clever mind that she would make Sarah an excellent governess. If she left now she would have little to recover from-a few tense moments, a little flirtation, a ruffle of awareness, that was all.

  But if she stayed, seeing him all the time, in effect sharing a house with him, would this juvenile crush deepen and mature to another, more painful emotion, one he could not return?

  Frowning, she looked away, trying to rid her mind of the slow, sweet lure of temptation. Clear thought was impossible when her senses were stirring like this.‘

  She swallowed and said quietly, ‘I can’t decide-I need to think it over.’

  From a distance she heard him say, ‘All right, then, give me your decision tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ she said indignantly. I ‘A good night’s sleep is supposed to give good counsel, isn’t it? Think it over before you go to sleep and let your subconscious decide.’

  The arrogant confidence in his voice stiffened her backbone. In a cool, crisp voice she asked, ‘Where exactly would we live?’

  ‘I have three main bases,’ he said, just as though he hadn’t won a minor victory. ‘The house in Auckland, one just outside London, and an apartment in New York. I try to spend most of the holidays here with the children, but I travel a fair amount, although I’m cutting down on that as much as I can.’

  She said in a stunned voice, ‘Who are you?’

  He paused, as though the ‘question had surprised him. Then in a neutral voice he said, ‘I’m a businessman. My grandfather started from this farm and built a pastoral empire in New Zealand and Australia, with interests further afield in tea plantations and rubber. My father expanded into manyfacturing; I’m interested in commercial property.’

  ‘Stephensons,’ she said in a stunned voice. Of course, that was where she _had seen his name, in innumerable newspapers, in prestigious magazines, on lists of huge, wealthy organisations. Blaize Stephenson was not just a businessman, he was a magnate, courted by governments, wooed by countries, respected for his extraordinary knack of making money and the immense power he wielded.

  ‘Yes.’

  Round and golden as a grapefruit, the moon sprang up from the sea, silhouetting the broad shoulders wide enough to take the burdens of a vast international organisation. How could she have been so blind?

  She said baldly, ‘I don’t think-’

  ‘Go to bed, Oriel. It’s getting late and you’re tired. Do you want me to carry you up?’

  His voice was autocratic, the voice of a man who commanded power and authority. She said hastily, ‘No. I can walk, thank you. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said with cool self-possession. Before she reached the house he was walking across the lawn towards the beach.

  Simon emerged from the depths of the television-room as she made her way to the stairs; grinning, he offered to help her up, and she saw in the laughing boy’s face some of the physical attraction of the man outside.

  ‘What makes the men of this family think they can pick me up and carry me about all the time?’ she said, striving for lightness. .‘I’d give you a hernia.’

  He grinned again. ‘Oh, I was thinking more of putting my arm around your waist,’ he told her outrageously, then blushed at her spontaneous peal of laughter.

  ‘Grateful though I am for you offer, I’ll pass,’ she told him‘.

  ‘Well, OK, but I can help if you’d like me to.”

  ‘It’s fine, it’s not really painful.’

  But she was glad to get into bed and rest her foot. Unfortunately, rest did not come so easily to her brain. She lay for hours wondering just what she should do, whether the risk was worth the reward, then slipped so smoothly into sleep that it was morning before she was aware of it.

  Blaize might feel that her subconscious knew best, but hers seemed as much a ditherer as its owner. She woke early, and lay watching the sun come up over the hills behind the bay, her thoughts confused and tangled. One part of her, the sensible part, warned her that she was walking into danger if she even thought of giving up her safe job, a life that she enjoyed, for the unknown prospects of life shared with the most exciting, most charismatic man she had ever met.

  Her discovery of Blaize’s identity frightened her. If she had been harbouring secret hopes and dreams, his revelation last night had put paid to them with casual finality. Blaize Stephenson, farmer or businessman, might perhaps fall in love with Oriel Radford. But Blaize Stephenson, head of a worldwide organisation, old money, the darling of the financial pages as owner of well be Prince Charles.

  So would she get over this inconvenient crush?

  Because there was no doubt that he had seen her as a suitable prospect for the job, if not right from the start, then almost immediately. It hurt, but she had to admit that he hadn’t capitalised on the sexual attraction between them. He could have, but he clearly had standards and a moral code.

  Should she exchange a life that was pleasant but a little mundane for another that would be infinitely more exciting? At least until Sarah was old and secure enough to go to boarding-school. The prospect of seeing the world was very desirable; for a while she managed to fool herself that that was what really appealed to her.

  Because she wasn’t in love with Blaize-she wasn’t so stupid. He was too old for her, emotionally if not physically, too cynical. It was just the first time she had been in contact with a man of such blazing sexual charisma. Of course she would get over this-this clamour in the blood. It would die from lack of nourishment. And would she ever feel happy again if she ignored Sarah’s silent pleas for help, her deep-seated need for a mother figure?

  Just think, she adjured herself, how sick you would be if you decided not to do it! You would really be angry with yourself for turning down this wonderful opportunity. After all, her father had left Great Britain for the South Seas-surely there was a little of the same adventurous spirit in her?

  It was this final thought that made up her mind. As she made her way carefully down the stairs, she had a final pang of uncertainty, one she squashed firmly. It was too late.
>
  ‘Oriel, wait for me!’ Sarah called, bouncing and smiling as she ran along the passage. ‘Oriel, Uncle Blaize says you’re going to come and be my governess. Is be right?’

  Oriel was furious at this blatant pre-emption of her decision but she managed to hide it from the child, who grabbed her hand and was gazing up with such hopeful eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘Do you like the idea?’

  Sarah gave a half-sob and flung her arms around her, clutching her with a hint of desperation. ‘Forever?’ she demanded. ‘Promise to stay with me forever?’

  ‘Forever is a long time,’ Oriel said simply. She hesitated a second, then promised, ‘For as long as you need me, sweetheart.’ Not even to herself was she prepared to admit just how seriously she made the vow.

  Sarah whooped with delight. ‘Can I tell Simon?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘Of course you can.’

  Simon and Blaize were at breakfast in the morning-room. The sun was shining in across the tiled floor, and with the doors wide open the mingled scents of the garden and the sea wafted in on the lazy air; it was the epitome of summer living.

  ‘Guess what, Simon?’ Sarah cried importantly. ‘Orie-l’s going to be my new governess. She’s going to live with Uncle Blaize and me and teach me how to read!’

  Simon looked startled, then smiled and said heartily,

  ‘Hey, that’s choice.’

  ‘That’s what?’

  He laughed at Blaize’s lifted brow and amended it to, ‘Good, fine, neat, wonderful. Welcome to the family, Oriel.’ Faint dismay crossed his face. ‘Or will I, have to call you Miss Radford, like we did Miss Kaye?

  ‘No, I’d prefer Oriel,’ she said firmly, sliding into the chair Blaize held for her.

  He said dulcetly, ‘I’ll see you in the office after breakfast, Oriel, if that’s, all right with you. We have a few things to discuss.’

  The ‘few things’ turned out to be a contract which stated that she would stay in his employ for three months, a and after that a binding decision would be made. It stipulated a salary about twice as much as she was getting as a teacher; when she jibbed he said calmly, ‘But you won’t just be a teacher, remember. You’re going to have the responsibility for keeping Sarah happy as well. Believe me, she’s been on her best behaviour with you so far-she can be a little brat. It won’t be a sinecure.’

  ‘Well, all right,’ she said dubiously, and read through the rest of the paper. It stipulated her hours of freedom: two days a week off, and a month’s holiday each year. Fora moment she hesitated. It suddenly seemed a crazy thing to do, throw up everything she had worked for on the off chance that she would like acting as a mother to a child she barely knew. Then her promise and Sarah’s ecstatic delight flashed into her mind. Her teeth sank into her lip; she drew a deep breath and with a hand that trembled only a little signed the sheet of paper.

  ‘Right,’ he drawled. ‘You will, of course, remain here as my guest until I leave, when your duties will start. However, I’ll pay you from today, so you won’t lose out.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve been paid-’

  ‘I imagine they’ll want some back,’ he said drily, ‘when you resign, which is something you had better do straight away. I’ll contact the Education Board and the headmistress, and if you’ll give me your key I'll get someone to pack up your belongings at the hostel-’

  ‘No, everything’s at my mother’s,’ she said. ‘I’ll get them-’

  He interrupted in his turn. ‘Would you like me to contact your mother?’

  She shook her head, feeling as though she had been run over by a bulldozer. ‘No, I’ll write to her, thank you. And you don’t have to pay me until I start working for you.’ I

  He looked directly at her, and she realised how he had got to the top. Certainly he had started with all the advantages, but if this was a sample of the way he worked his business associates probably suffered from the feeling that their skins were permanently marked with tyre tracks.

  ‘I set the conditions of employment, Oriel,’ he said softly. ‘I make the rules.’

  Something flinched inside her. ‘And I obey them?’

  ‘You do.’

  It was said without heat, but the flick of the whip raised weals on her emotions. Stonily she replied, ‘Very well, Mr Stephenson.’

  ‘Oho!’ he said softly, wicked amusement glinting in his smile. ‘My name is Blaize, Oriel. I want Sarah to feel that she belongs to a family, and she’s not going to feel that way with you pokering up and calling me Mr Stephenson every time I annoy you.’

  She folded her lips firmly, her dismay at being relegated to employee status very real, even though she tried to tell herself that she had no right to feel so hurt.

  ‘Say it,’ he commanded. And when she made no attempt to say his name he went on evenly, ‘I decide, Oriel, not you. Look at me.’

  Stubbornly she kept her gaze averted, so that the peremptory forefinger ‘under her chin came as a shock. Quick flags of colour stained her cheeks; her lashes shot up as she met his steely look. Her mouth dried, for the determination in his eyes heated into something else, a glitter of desire, fierce, compelling.

  She tried to take a step back, out of the danger zone, but his hands at her wrists caught her fast. ‘I make the rules-remember?

  His mouth was hard and demanding on her unwilling lips, unexpectedly cool. Perhaps, she thought, striving desperately to keep her head, he was only mimicking desire. Her hands came up and pushed at him, but he was so strong she didn’t have a hope of freeing herself.

  Instinct, perhaps self-preservation, ordered her to remain quiescent. She stood without protest as he held her against the lean hardness of his body, conscious of the deliberate plundering of her mouth for his own sensual gratification.

  No one before had ever roused the beast she hadn’t even known was caged deep within her. A tide of sensation so strong that it almost carried her away surged with unbearable force through her; she thought dazedly that she had never known the meaning of the word ‘fierce’ before. This was no shrinking maidenly passion she felt; it was eager and demanding, responding to the passion in his kiss with fire and need. She wanted him with every cell of her body, wanted to feel his imprint on her, in her, wanted to take him and ravish him so that he would never test another woman by kissing her, because to touch another woman would be a betrayal he couldn’t contemplate.

  For as his mouth gentled, touched the long golden length of her throat and sent tiny tremors through her by nipping on the lobe of her ear, she knew that he was testing her. If she surrendered to his effortless sexual charisma, if she showed him just how easily he could smash down the walls of inhibition around her, then he would know he had a weapon she couldn’t fight, and sooner or later it would be wielded.

  Was this what had happened to the last governess?

  His seeking mouth found the soft hollow below her ear, lingered there with seductive pressure against the fine, silken skin; then he lifted his head and rested his check against her forehead.

  ‘If,’ he threatened in a slurred voice, ‘you call me Mr Stephenson again that’s what you can expect-with less restraint each time you do it. Even when you try to freeze me out you have a mouth as sweet as wild honey.’

  Oriel drew in a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm her raging nerves. ‘If you do,’ she stated, shaking, ‘contract or no contract, I’ll go. You have no right to make me the object of your shop-worn gallantry. It’s called sexual harassment, and there are laws against it.’

  ‘I make the laws,’ he mocked, releasing her. His mouth was relaxed, all tension gone from his expression, but his eyes still held a warning light as they travelled insolently over her flushed face and parted, bee-stung lips.

  ‘Not those laws,’ she flashed angrily. ‘I didn’t ask to be mauled like a-like ~a streetwalker!’

  He gave her an insolent stare. ‘Anything less like a streetwalker would be hard to find. You kiss like a virgin. And you were
asking for it, even though the provocation was probably unconscious. But prim or not, you enjoyed it. Oh, you give an excellent imitation of an iceberg, but your mouth softens adorably under mine, and the flush of passion is still staining your skin.’

  The silver blade of his gaze rested with cynical enjoyment on her confused face, swept across the pink-flushed silk of her throat.

  She rallied, lifting her head with proud resistance. ‘I won’t be treated like a half-wit, intimidated by kisses, brought into line by your strength and lack of principles. And I’m not available for light relief when you’re in between mistresses!’

  He laughed and walked across to the desk, where he surveyed her with the cool speculation -of the businessman, big and bronze and domineering. ‘I haven’t heard that word since I gave up reading Georgette Heyer,’ he said calmly. ‘However, if you need reassurance, I have no intention of using you as a convenience between She muttered, ‘All right, I’m sorry, but you must admit you had no right to kiss me.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said easily, as though his mind was already on other far more important things, ‘I’ll admit I shouldn’t have given in to temptation, I promise not to do it again-and now will you go, before you provoke me into the sort of reaction we both will regret.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LATER that morning Simon wandered along the beach to the classroom under the pohutukawa tree, whistling the tuneless notes he used as a kind of aural signature.

  ‘Enough for this morning,’ Oriel said to her pupil. Sarah looked longingly at the picture she had been drawing, but gave up without protest when she saw the big launch nose around the headland.

  ‘Mr Howard went in to get some books for me to read,’ she said importantly. ‘Mrs Howard told me.’

  Simon flung himself down on to the grass. In spite of Oriel’s insistence that he wear sunscreen his back was already burnt dark by the sun. A slash of bold blue zinc ointment across his nose and checks and over his lips gave him a clownish look.

  Sarah gurgled. ‘You look like a Nindian,’ she said.