Seduced By The Enemy

But what could she do? She couldn’t let Tate Ainsley win—she couldn’t just stand by and watch him ruin everything her father had worked so hard for.

‘What time are you expecting him?’ she asked coolly. Her choice was clear. She couldn’t risk upsetting her father…but Tate was an entirely different matter.

Helena didn’t linger after her tennis match with Vivian. She headed straight around the side of the house, intending to shower and change and be back in her father’s office before Tate arrived. She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Tate’s car parked on the drive.

He was standing on the front steps, deep in conversation with a young woman who was dressed very stylishly in a buttercup-yellow suit, her long blonde hair arranged fashionably around a perfectly made-up face. Helena recognised the girl immediately.

Antonia Summers had been in her class at school. She hadn’t been a very popular girl, and Helena remembered vaguely that she had been an incredibly jealous type. Of course, that had been a long time ago, and the girl had probably changed a lot since then. Helena also remembered that Antonia had once had an almighty crush on Tate.

They both looked over towards her as she moved forward. ‘Good morning, Helena.’ Tate’s eyes swept over her, encompassing her short white skirt and the cropped T-shirt with one sweep of his eyes.

Helena cursed the fact that she was so scantily clad. She hadn’t even done her hair this morning; it was scraped back out of the way in a ponytail.

‘I think you know Antonia, my secretary, don’t you?’ he continued smoothly.

So the girl was now working for Tate…what a small old world, Helena thought drily. She smiled politely and said hello.

‘Been playing tennis?’ Tate asked nonchalantly.

Helena nodded. It took all her inner strength just to be civil to this man. ‘I was going to go riding,’ she muttered with rancour, ‘except that Pop has given away the horses.’

‘I’ve bought them,’ Tate corrected her with equanimity. ‘But don’t worry, they are being very well looked after.’

Helena was about to make a sarcastic reply to that but she was interrupted by Antonia.

‘I just can’t believe you are home,’ she interceded with a smile. ‘Does Deborah know?’

For a moment Helena’s heart missed a beat at this mention of the girl who had once been her closest friend. There had been a time shortly after Helena had left Barbados when she hadn’t been able to think about Debby without feeling tearful.

‘Probably.’ With difficulty Helena kept her voice steady. ‘You know how news travels out here. Everyone knows everything almost before it happens’

‘Well, I saw her only last week, and she didn’t mention you,’ Antonia continued blithely. ‘She’s still seeing David Cass, you know. There were rumours a while ago that they might get married.’

‘Really?’ Helena tried to put a brisk indifference into her voice, but it was very hard when she could feel a cold hand stealing around her heart, squeezing it unmercifully hard.

She couldn’t believe that Debby would consider marrying Cass—the thought was repellent to her. For a second her composure slipped, and there was a fleeting look of anguish on her gentle features.

She glanced back at Tate. He was watching her with a look of deep contemplation in his blue eyes. Had he noticed her consternation? The notion that he had made her tilt her head up in a defiant gesture. She was damned if she was going to let anyone see how hurt she was over Debby Johnstone and Cass. That particular nightmare was over, she told herself forcefully.

‘Well, I hate to interrupt this girls’ reunion,’ Tate drawled laconically, ‘but might I suggest that we go inside? I have a few business matters I want to discuss with your father, Helena, before I leave.’

For a second Helena was so relieved that the subject had been turned away from Cass that she didn’t even care why Tate was here. It was only as she turned to lead the way into the house that her priorities reasserted themselves. What manner of business was Tate here to discuss anyway? Her mouth set in a grim line as reluctantly she knocked on her father’s study door.

‘Ah, Tate!’ Her father stood up immediately the other man entered, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘Nice to see you—and you, Antonia.’

Helena stepped in and closed the door behind her firmly. Invited or not, she intended to stay and hear exactly what was going on.

‘I didn’t think I would need you today, Antonia, but…’ Lawrence swept a hand ruefully towards the other desk at the far side of the room, which had an in-tray stacked high with correspondence. ‘As you can see, it was a forlorn hope.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Beaumont. I’ll make short work of it,’ Antonia assured him as she stepped across to take her seat.

‘Meanwhile—’ Tate tapped the folder that he was carrying ‘—I’d like to discuss those business proposals we spoke of last week.’

‘Wonderful.’ Lawrence sat back down behind his own desk and waved Tate towards the chair opposite. ‘Helena, be a dear and get us all some coffee, will you?’ he said, glancing briefly at his daughter. ‘Mary has gone into Bridgetown for some shopping.’

Helena’s face fell. She wanted to hear the nature of the business Tate had come to discuss, not make coffee.

Tate looked across at her, and his mouth slanted in a lop-sided grin as he took in the angry gleam in her eyes. ‘Black with no sugar, thanks, Helena.’

Helena would have liked to tell him to get his own damned coffee, but courtesy and respect for her father forbade such a thing. With a dry nod, she turned to leave. She really had no other alternative.

Never had a pot of coffee been made so quickly. Helena fairly ran around the large kitchen, throwing everything on a tray. She returned to the study a few minutes later and entered the room without knocking on the door.

She was just in time to hear Tate requesting her father’s signature on some document that he had placed before him. Horror welled up inside Helena as she watched her father calmly pick up his pen to comply without question.

Helena put the tray down on the desk with rather more force than she had intended, and the china cups and saucers rattled noisily in the silence. She had to say something—she couldn’t just watch while her father signed a document that might be another dreadful mistake.

‘Shouldn’t you have professional advice before you sign anything, Pop?’ she said, quietly but firmly.

Lawrence looked up, his pen poised over the paper, an expression of annoyance clear on his lined face. ‘I think I’m capable of making my own decisions, Helena,’ he said swiftly.

It was galling to be spoken to so curtly. She had, after all, been specially trained to advise businesses in difficulty.

‘I rather thought I could be of help to you in here,’ she said with gentle emphasis.

‘I’ve told you, Helena, I’ve got all the help I need’ Lawrence smiled at her, totally ignoring the pleading look in his daughter’s eyes. ‘You go off and enjoy yourself.’

Conscious of Tate watching her, she forced herself to smile. ‘Very well,’ she acceded reluctantly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She was quite literally fuming when she walked out of the room. How could her father be so blind as to trust Tate Ainsley with such implicit faith? And what were the documents that he was signing? All sorts of dreadful possibilities flew through her mind. Her father could be signing away Beaumont House, for all she knew.

She wandered through to the kitchen to tidy the mess she had made whilst making the coffee. It was probably best to keep busy, she thought as she wiped over the counters and put things away. Best not to think about what mistakes her father might be making.

For a brief moment she considered having a quiet word with Antonia. Perhaps she would shed some light on what was transpiring? As soon as the thought crossed her mind she dismissed it. Antonia worked for Tate, and if past history was anything to go by the woman adored him. There was no way she would get anything out of that woman…except maybe some gossip about Debby and Cass.

Helena stopped what she was doing and leaned against the kitchen counter. Was it true that Deborah was thinking of marrying David Cass? The question returned with sudden force to haunt her.

Debby had once been like a sister to Helena. For a moment thoughts of their friendship filled her mind. They had supported each other through the ups and downs of growing up, had always been firm friends…until Cass.

‘May the best girl win,’ Deborah had once said laughingly, when they had both admitted to being wildly attracted to him. And then, when Cass had asked Helena out, she had shrugged and said laughingly, ‘Well, luck was on your side this time.’

The words echoed hollowly inside Helena, evoking memories that she wanted so much to forget. She had dated Cass for five months. Five months of being wined and dined, and still she hadn’t known the real man beneath the urbane smile.

‘Helena?’ Tate’s velvet deep voice cut into the painful intensity of her thoughts, bringing her abruptly back to the present with a start. She turned sharply, and as she did so her arm caught the sugar bowl on the countertop, making it fall with a resounding smash onto the stone floor.

‘Bit like the price of sugar,’ Tate noted wryly as he came across to help her tidy up the mess. ‘Plummeting all the time.’

Helena’s hands trembled as she tried to pull herself sharply together. It was horrifying that just the thought of Cass could do this to her. Her nerves were stretched, her heart pounding. She just prayed that Tate wouldn’t notice how agitated she was.