CATHY WILLIAMS - A Thorn In Paradise

For the first time, she felt a deep, burning curiosity about this mysterious son. Previously, she had listened to Benjamin when he got on his soap box with her mind somewhere else, but now she wondered what his son really was like.

She was startled to discover when she next glanced at her watch that it had gone eleven, and she got up hurriedly, snapping shut her book and wondering whether she would ever finish it.

Early evenings were a luxury which she thoroughly enjoyed, after having spent years working crazy shifts at the hospital. Towards the end, she could remember being half dead on her feet, battling on in the wards despite an attack of flu which had kept her bed-ridden for a week and then tenaciously clung on, preying on her exhaustion. When, one morning, she had found herself physically incapable of getting out of bed, and no longer really caring whether she did or not, she realised that it was time for a much-needed break.

At this hour the house was totally silent. Edna and her husband, who was responsible for the gardens, were the only two people who lived in. The remainder of the staff were employed locally and they were invariably gone by eight-thirty, some much earlier.

She was walking past the front door when there was an almighty bang on it, followed by another.

Corinna wasn’t a coward but she remained where she was, uncertainly wondering whether she should fetch Edna’s husband Tom or else open the door herself. It was damned late for callers, or at least for those interested in socialising with Benjamin, but then burglars would hardly bang on the front door and expect entry. Or would they? She stood there, biting her lips in frustrated indecision, and only walked across to the door when the third heavy bang threatened to raise the household.

She carefully pulled open the door and then tried to shut it as her eyes took in the man standing outside, tall, powerful and with an aura of menace surrounding him.

It was a useless attempt, though. He pushed against it and her strength was no match for his. She fell back, and it was only when he was inside the hall that she realised that she had been holding her breath with fear.

Seeing him at close quarters and in the full glare of the overhead light did nothing to dispel the sensation of threat. She was a tall girl but he towered over her and the lean, hard build of his body spoke of a latent power. Her immediate impression was that this was not a man who took kindly to being crossed, which brought her back to the disturbing question: what if he was a burglar?

She folded her arms to stop herself from shivering and looked at him, her pupils dilated with fear.

‘If you’ve come here to steal, then I’m afraid you’ve chosen the wrong house,’ she said with as much authority as she could muster. ‘There are two fierce dogs. I only have to whistle.’

She found that she couldn’t take her eyes away from his face. It was such a striking face. A strong, sharp nose, above which black brows met in a fierce frown. Angular features which held the potential for cruelty, but a mouth that was strangely sensual and grey eyes which were now fixed on her with a tight, hostile expression.

He was dressed in black. Black trousers and a black jumper. Maybe, she thought, he might be less intimidating in a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

‘Really?’ he said in a deep, ironic voice and with the very slightest trace of an accent. ‘I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting your two fierce dogs. They escorted me to the front door.’

‘Who are you?’ She already knew, of course. Initially his sheer physical impact had done something to her brain, made it shut down, but the minute he spoke, she realised that he was Antonio Silver.

‘I’m Benjamin Silver’s son,’ he said coolly, his hands thrust into his pockets, his eyes raking over her and then moving away to glance around him at his surroundings. He looked at her again and she had that same rattled, agitated feeling. ‘But you know that, don’t you? I can see it from the expression on your face. I take it my father received my letter.’

‘You’re not wanted here,’ Corinna burst out and then was immediately horrified by what she had said.

His eyes narrowed on her and she felt herself go scarlet at the scrutiny.

‘You must be Corinna Steadman,’ he said with no attempt at politeness, ‘my father’s keeper.’

Something about his voice made her look at him warily. She felt like someone who was treading very carefully on a minefield and it wasn’t a very pleasant sensation.

‘I work for him, yes,’ she said in a thin voice, ‘I’m his private nurse.’

‘That’s not what I said.’ He moved towards the front door and then turned to her. ‘I’m going to fetch my case from the car,’ he said with a cold smile that didn’t contain the remotest hint of humour. ‘Don’t even think of slamming that door shut behind me.’

Corinna didn’t say anything. She was still in a state of semi-shock, brought on, she decided, by the fact that he had appeared like a ghostly materialisation on the doorstep at the very moment she had been wondering about him. In a very short while the shock would wear off and she would be able to respond to him in a more controlled manner. In her profession, self-control was instilled as part of the training process and it wouldn’t let her down.

He returned from the car with a tan leather holdall which he dumped on the ground, and she eyed it with resentment.

‘I’m not about to carry that upstairs for you, like a porter,’ she informed him, and was subjected to another of those freezing, ironic observations.

‘I don’t recall having asked. Or maybe you fancy yourself as a mind reader, as well as keeper of the house.’

‘I don’t fancy myself as anything of the sort!’ she spluttered angrily, but he had turned away and was walking in the direction from which she had just come, towards the drawing-room, looking around him on the way.

She followed him, half running to keep up, with her arms folded across her chest.

‘You can’t just waltz in here——’ she began, and he

spun around to face her.

‘And why not?’ he asked coldly.

‘Because,’ she said nervously, ‘because it’s late and you should really come back tomorrow if you want to see your father. He’s normally up and about by nine-thirty. I’ll tell him you called.’

‘You mean you’ll warn him.’ His lips stretched into an icy mimicry of a smile. ‘No, thanks.’

He had very long legs. He stretched them out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, clasping his hands behind his head.

‘I feel as though I’ve never been away from here,’ he said to himself, flicking those sharp grey eyes around and taking in everything. There was nothing, she decided uncomfortably, that this man missed. ‘Nothing’s changed at all; even those two pictures are in precisely the same place.’

‘Nothing has to change!’ Corinna said, hovering by the door.

She could tell immediately that he had temporarily forgotten about her presence and she wished that she had not reminded him of it because she was once again subjected to the brunt of that disturbing, hostile stare. He eyed her shortly and then commanded her to sit down. With some surprise, she found herself obeying, tentatively perching on the chair furthest away from him, a fact which didn’t escape him from the look on his face.

‘I’m glad I arrived when I did,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘No one about. No one but you.’ There was something a little forbidding about the way he said that, and she shivered. ‘It gives us the opportunity to chat.’

This man was arrogant, menacing and far too good-looking. Just the sort of man, she thought uneasily, that she had spent a lifetime conscientiously avoiding. Her father had been arrogant, good-looking, a magnet for other women. Over the years she had managed to submerge her feelings about her childhood into some safe, dark corner where she had firmly closed the door and, she had thought, thrown away the key. Now, though, memories rose up from those secret depths, memories of her father accusing her mother of having affairs, wild arguments in which they made no attempt to lower their voices, her mother shouting that what could he expect when he was fooling around behind her back as well? Antonio Silver, her inner voice told her, was a dangerous man.