Seduced By The Enemy

She closed her eyes and clung to him. ‘It’s good to be home, Pop. I can’t tell you how good.’

It was a few moments before she had gathered her emotions together enough to pull away and look at her father calmly. He didn’t seem any different. A little tired, perhaps, and there was a drawn look about his face that hadn’t been there before.

Lawrence was now in his early sixties, but he still had a rugged attractiveness. His sandy-blond hair was still thick, and his body powerfully built.

‘You’ve hardly changed.’ Helena smiled through a glimmer of tears.

‘Well, that’s more than we can say about you,’ Vivian put in as she came down to join them.

Helena turned with a smile and reached to kiss her stepmother.

‘You look fabulous,’ Vivian said truthfully as they broke apart.

‘So do you.’ Helena’s eyes moved wistfully over the other woman. Vivian was wearing a speedwellblue summer dress that emphasised her superb figure. Her skin was pale and she had smouldering red lips and dark eyes. Her hair was a soft, natural blonde.

Vivian was just thirty-three years of age—it was six years since she had given up her modelling career to marry Helena’s father, but her looks certainly hadn’t diminished. If anything she was more beautiful now than she had been before.

‘Thanks for collecting Helena.’ Lawrence went to give Tate a hand with her luggage, but he waved him away.

‘I can manage,’ he said, smiling. ‘Your daughter travels light.’

‘I hope that’s not an indication of how long you’ll be staying?’ Lawrence asked, turning anxious eyes onto Helena.

‘Give me a chance to unpack before I start talking about leaving,’ Helena prevaricated with a smile.

Her father nodded, and together they moved into the house.

Overhead fans made a soft whirring sound and sent a delicious waft of air over Helena’s heated skin as she stepped into the wide hallway. The doors through to the lounge were open, and her eyes moved over the soft gold furnishings with delight. Everything was exactly as it had been when she had left.

The house was furnished almost exclusively with antiques, and stepping through the doorway was like stepping back in time to the colonial era. The floors were polished wood, and they creaked underfoot like a ship’s galley. Crystal lights made a soft tinkling sound in the gentle breeze from the fans.

‘Leave Helena’s luggage by the staircase, Tate,’ Lawrence said briskly as he moved into the lounge. ‘Come through and join us for a drink of champagne.’

‘Champagne?’ Helena watched as her father marched to where an ice-bucket and glasses had been left ready and waiting for them. Champagne hardly fitted in with the picture her brother had painted of financial troubles.

‘Tate very kindly brought it over earlier, ready for your homecoming.’

‘I see.’ Helena didn’t really see at all. Why on earth should Tate bring champagne over to welcome her home?

She glanced across and met his deep blue gaze. He was watching her, a strange, almost hooded expression in his eyes. Whatever his reasons, Helena thought in that instant, she doubted they had anything to do with generosity.

She watched as her father poured out five sparkling glasses of the frothy liquid. ‘Is Paul joining us?’ she asked hopefully.

There was a moment’s awkward silence. ‘I’ve told your brother not to come here until he gets a civil tongue in his head,’ Lawrence said in a gruff tone

Helena’s heart sank. The argument between Paul and her father had obviously been even worse than she had thought. She had hoped that they might have patched things up for her homecoming.

‘The other glass is for Mary,’ Vivian put in swiftly. ‘She’s been so excited about your return; she’s been dashing around all day, fussing and flapping to make everything perfect.’

‘She’s done everything bar kill the fatted calf,’ Tate added, a hint of dry amusement in his tone.

Was that a dig implying that she was the errant stray daughter, finally back to the fold? Helena glanced over at him, wondering again at his motivations.

‘Ah, here’s Mary now,’ Vivian said with a smile as the door swung open and a plump black woman came rushing into the room.

‘Oh, Miss Helena, you’re home!’ Mary’s voice was filled with excitement. ‘I didn’t hear the car…and I’ve been listening out for it for what seems like hours.’

‘Mary, it’s so good to see you.’ Helena smiled and went to embrace the woman who had been more than just a housekeeper at Beaumont House over the years.

When Helena’s mother had died Mary had been a close friend to Helena. She had comforted the griefstricken nine-year-old and had taken over the running of the house, becoming a mother substitute to both her and Paul when Lawrence Beaumont had been unable to cope with his own feelings of grief, let alone his children.

‘Let me look at you.’ Mary’s round face beamed with good nature as she stepped back from her. ‘My Lord, you look as pretty as a picture.’

‘Doesn’t she just?’ Much to Helena’s embarrassment, Tate was the one to agree with this statement. He lifted the champagne glasses and handed one each to Helena and Mary. ‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said, holding Helena’s gaze with steady blue eyes. ‘Welcome home, Helena. May your visit be a long and memorable one.’

Helena had a feeling it was going to be more than just memorable. She had a very strong feeling that it was going to be unforgettable.

‘Hear, hear.’ Lawrence topped the glasses up once they had taken a few sips of the golden liquid.

The sound of the telephone ringing made Mary put down her glass and hurry from the room.

‘Will you stay and have some dinner with us Tate?’ Lawrence asked.

Helena noted that her father’s voice wasn’t just polite—he sounded as if he genuinely would have welcomed the other man’s company.

Tate glanced at his watch. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got an important meeting in an hour. I really should be leaving now.’

About time, Helena thought grimly. It should be Paul joining them for dinner, not Tate Ainsley. What on earth was her father thinking of?

Lawrence nodded, obviously disappointed. Then he turned his attention towards his daughter. ‘So, Helena,’ he said bluntly, ‘put me out of my misery. Have you come home to tell us you’re getting married?’

Helena tried very hard not to blush. So Tate had been right! He seemed to be very much privy to her father’s personal thoughts, she observed with concern.

‘No, Pop,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I’ve come back to see you—there’s nothing more to it than that.’

‘Thank heavens for that,’ Lawrence said fervently. ‘Not that I don’t want you to get married—on the contrary, I think it’s high time you tied the knot and gave me some grandchildren to bounce on my knee—but I don’t want you marrying somebody miles away in London…I want you to marry someone closer to home.’ Her father’s voice was heavy with implication.

Helena felt sure that her face was crimson as she met Tate’s coolly amused glance.

She pulled her eyes away from him, angered by his air of arrogant amusement. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Pop,’ she finally managed to say in a tightly controlled voice, ‘but I’m married to my work. I’m a career girl.’

Lawrence shook his head, looking totally disgusted with such a statement.

She was extremely relieved when they were interrupted by Mary corning back into the room. ‘Phone for you, Miss Helena,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s your brother.’

‘You can take it in my office,’ Lawrence said grimly, his very tone of voice conveying how displeased he was with Paul.

Helena put down her champagne and hurried towards the hall. She was extremely anxious to talk to Paul. Perhaps now he could shed some light on the exact situation here.