On Equal Terms

She stayed in the bath till the water chilled. She wanted to be alone to try and sort out her feelings. Eventually, however, she got out, wrapping a warmed fluffy towel about her body. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, she stared blankly at her reflection. She pushed damp tendrils of hair from her face and moved closer, peering at the dull image of her face. She was pale, her eyes lifeless, with dark rings brought on by a poor diet and lack of sleep. They were swollen and bruised as a result of the accident. Tentatively she raised her hand, touching her face gently, moving her fingers lightly over her eyes, and flinching at the pain that even the gentlest of touches caused. She rubbed at her forehead wearily. Her head still ached and she couldn’t remember quite what had happened—it all seemed so unreal, like a bad dream.

‘Kate! Are you OK? Kate! Kate!’ Sebastian’s voice was growing louder. It was accompanied by the rattling of the door-handle and his fist hammering against the solid wood panels till the door shook. Kate gripped the luxuriously soft peach towel about her body as a defensive wall. She turned the key, opening the door with deliberate slowness.

‘Are you all right?’ Sebastian demanded sharply, stepping closer, his arms catching her slender shoulders in a firm grip. Kate’s skin burned as his fingers touched her soft flesh. She caught the scent of his familiar aftershave.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she snapped, shrugging herself free as she moved, hating the effect he was having on her. She tensed herself for his touch as she went through the doorway, passing close to him but avoiding his outstretched hands. He dropped his arms in a sudden gesture of defeat. A frustrated frown creased his forehead.

‘There’s no need to snap. You’ve only yourself to blame,’ he reminded her grimly, following her back into the bedroom, his eyes burning into her back. Kate spun round. All the pent-up feelings she felt for him spilled out in a torrent.

‘Me?’ she practically screamed. ‘I’m to blame?’ She echoed his words in furious disbelief. ‘How do you make that out? It was a car accident.’

‘An accident you would not have been involved in had you been at home,’ Sebastian reminded her in a chilling tone. Kate shook her head at his words. She felt she could stand up to him now. She was no longer a child, though the familiar sense of being unloved surfaced at his words.

‘This was my home before you and your mother arrived,’ she told him as all the old pain and bad memories swelled up inside her. It had been traumatic enough, her father’s suddenly remarrying. Kate had felt so rejected. The small amount of time her father had had for her when not working now had to be shared with his new wife and her son. It had been so hard; how she had hated them both. Yet, despite everything, now Kate realised just how homesick she had been, how much she had really missed them all. The effects of the accident had only increased her stress.

‘Stop it, Kate; stop feeling sorry for yourself, and stop blaming others for your own silly mistakes,’ Sebastian growled, his voice dangerously low in comparison to her heartfelt scream.

‘It’s true! It’s all your fault, you and your mother’s,’ she threw back, heedless of the way his whole frame suddenly stiffened.

‘What about your father, Kate? Isn’t he to blame as well?’ Sebastian replied in a low voice. ‘He did marry my mother,’ he concluded, a smile tugging at his mouth.

‘My father always loved me,’ she protested, as she thought of the terrible argument she had had with him the last time they had spoken.

It came racing up, forcing itself from the dark, deep recesses of her mind. She could see it so clearly, the four of them, as if locked into a time-warp. Her father was in front of the blazing fire, Clare, her stepmother, was sitting on the edge of a chair, obviously a little nervous, and Sebastian was there with the smear of tell-tale red lipstick still on his face. Kate stood alone, staring in disbelief at her father’s words. It couldn’t be true.

‘You’re offering Sebastian my partnership?’ she cried in horror, her eyes flying to Sebastian, suddenly hating him with all her might

‘No, Kate,’ her father said, softly but firmly. ‘It’s just that I have other plans for you at the moment…’

‘Other plans? What other plans? I want to join you in the family business,’ she protested furiously. She had worked so hard to understand the work involved—now it was all for nothing.

‘Clare has found a suitable school for you in France.’ Her father paused as he saw the look of dismay sweep over his daughter’s face. ‘It’s just for a couple of years. It will broaden your horizons.’

‘I don’t want my horizons broadened—and nor does she.’ Kate glared at her stepmother with unconcealed contempt. ‘She just wants me out of the way so her son can take over the business.’

‘That’s not true, Kate…’ Clare began, but Kate turned her back on her, refusing to listen. How she regretted that action later. Her father reacted instinctively, pulling at Kate, anger and hurt vying for supremacy.

‘Apologise, Kate, at once,’ he demanded, but Kate remained resolute, her lip protruding stubbornly.

‘No, no, I won’t! It’s the truth, only you’re too blind to see it! And he,’ she said, swinging her hand out to point accusingly at Sebastian, ‘he’s not family. What does he care about our traditions? He’s just a money-maker!’

‘Kate! Kate!’ her father cried again. ‘Apologise at once!’ But Kate was too filled with emotion. How could he do this to her, take their sides against her? It was all so wrong.

‘I won’t, and I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. You have a son now, so you don’t need me,’ Kate cried as her heart broke in two and she fled the room.

Two days later she had left. All attempts she had made to get in touch with her family since then had been rejected, leaving her desolate. She had never received even one reply.

‘Why the past tense?’ Sebastian asked her now, as if unaware of the strained relationship between her father and herself. ‘He still loves you, but you’re not a child any more, Kate, you have to understand that he loves my mother as well,’ he explained gently, as if he were speaking to a child. Kate seethed inwardly. She was an adult—she understood! But would Sebastian always insist on seeing her as if she had never grown up? Did he really think that her reason for not returning home was because of her stepmother? Surely he knew that her father had ignored all her attempts at a reconciliation? ‘I understand that.’ She almost laughed. ‘I accepted their marriage a long time ago.’

‘Did you, Kate?’ Sebastian questioned her grimly, and her eyes flew to his. Surely he must realise why she couldn’t return home? Surely he hadn’t forgotten what had passed between them, and the terrible consequences? His eyes rested on hers, blank and unreadable.

‘Of course I’ve accepted their marriage, for God’s sake. They’ve been married eight years!’ she bit back at him, hurt by his lack of understanding. She knew she had been difficult when her father had first remarried, but she had been a child and not used to sharing her father’s affection with anyone. The adjustment to sharing his love had not been easy but she had grown to accept his new relationship, hard though it had been. She had carefully hidden her pain behind a mask of outrage.

‘Then why did you run away?’ Sebastian challenged. ‘When you should have come home?’ he added.

‘I couldn’t,’ she protested angrily, not wanting to explain, to let him know he had won everything—the business and her father.

‘You mean wouldn’t!’ he returned.

‘You don’t understand—surely—’ Kate began, but Sebastian interrupted, anger sharpening his voice to a rapier edge, cutting deeply into her heart.

‘Oh, grow up! You just ran away,’ he snapped.

‘I didn’t run away,’ she protested indignantly. She was ashamed to admit the truth that her father had not wanted her here. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing the awful truth…‘I chose to live away from home, and I’m twenty this year—hardly a child,’ she informed him crisply, ignoring the mocking rise of his dark eyebrows. ‘I’ve grown up a lot in the last couple of years—’ she began to explain, suddenly wanting him to know the work she had been doing. She was so proud of it. She had to make him realise the past was behind them.

‘Physically, perhaps,’ Sebastian cut m, his eyes making a swift inventory of her slender body. But Kate ignored his appraisal; she was still too angry with him. He was putting her down, refusing to acknowledge that she was no longer a child, totally disregarding what she was saying, and she was incensed.

‘I’m not a child any more, Sebastian,’ she managed to say calmly, despite her annoyance and the fact that her stomach felt weak under his cold scrutiny.

‘You certainly behave like one,’ he said sharply.

‘I don’t!’ Kate came back, hating the way her impulsive denial sounded so immature. Sebastian’s expression showed his dry amusement at her remark. Kate seethed. He would never know how she had longed to return home, but there had been a myriad other reasons, too, why she couldn’t, reasons that he still seemed oblivious to. What about the relationship that had been developing between them? It hurt that he didn’t seem to have thought of that at all. It was true that she had not been welcome here, but she had also wanted some independence. A chance to show her parents that she had changed, become responsible, that she was no longer the spoilt, selfish child. The work she did now made her realise just how privileged she had been, which made her feel uncomfortably guilty sometimes.

‘Then you don’t consider running off and upsetting your father childish behaviour? I’ve wasted quite a lot of money over the last few months searching for you,’ Sebastian growled. His face was dark with intent, lightened only by the fierce light that flamed in his blue eyes. Kate felt her anger bubble up again inside her. It seemed to feed off him. He just wasn’t prepared to listen. He wouldn’t even give her the chance to explain.

‘I’m sorry you wasted your money. You should have left me where I was and your money in the bank,’ she replied.

‘Left you in that tawdry flat, with that man? How long do you think you would have survived?’ Sebastian asked.

‘I happen to like that flat. OK, it was a little rundown, but it was cheap,’ she defended herself. Terry, her boss, shared all the expenses, making it very economical.

‘I’ can believe that.’ A smile touched the corners of Sebastian’s mouth as he enjoyed her flaring temper. Kate knew what he was implying and she was furious. Did he not realise that she worked? That Terry and she were merely flatmates? She would not lower herself to explain. It might do him good to think she had a relationship with Terry. She tossed her head back as she spun away from him and marched over to her dressing-table, throwing herself down heavily on the chair. It creaked in protest. She glared at his reflection in the mirror.

‘I’d rather be on my own,’ she told him aloofly as she picked up a hairbrush and made a desultory attempt at brushing her damp hair. She hoped that her cold attitude was coolly dismissive but Sebastian remained impassive.

‘Quite the Greta Garbo, aren’t we?’ he mocked, his generous mouth widening still further while her mouth thinned to a grim line. He folded his arms across his muscular chest, his stance warning her that he had no intention of leaving. She knew how stubborn Sebastian could be.

‘Shut up, Sebastian. Shut up and get out,’ Kate shouted, unable to stand his presence any longer. His taunting smile only reflected his lack of understanding. He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head, tutting softly at her outburst.

‘Now that’s not very polite, is it?’ he teased. ‘I see your manners haven’t improved. Clare was right—you should have gone to a finishing school.’

But Kate was in no mood to be taunted. She was determined to wipe the smile from his arrogant face.

‘Clare still managed to get rid of me,’ she turned to remind him. She hoped the jibe would hit home. But her sense of victory was quickly squashed. For a moment there was a flicker of annoyance on his face but then he grinned, his eyes bright with humour.

‘Of course! It was the wicked stepmother,’ he said dramatically, laughing as he raised his hand to his forehead, as he were part of a Victorian melodrama.

‘Well, it was, wasn’t it?’ she said coolly, trying to ignore his mocking attitude and the obvious amusement she was affording him.