answer’s no!’ The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time with him. She needed to be alone, to think. More moderately, but no less determinedly, she added, ‘I want to get home.’
Appearing in no way put out, he rose to his feet, tall and broad-shouldered, overpoweringly male, and agreed, ‘Very well…Would you like to freshen up before we start?’
As they headed into London, mingling with the Saturday morning traffic, he made conversation, forcing her to talk rather than relapse into a brooding silence as she would have preferred.
Avoiding anything too personal, he asked her opinion on a variety of subjects and listened to her answers with intelligent interest, sometimes agreeing with her comments, sometimes putting forward a different point of view that provided grounds for argument.
Roderick had never been one for debating issues, valuing women for their beauty rather than their brains, and Bel found the no-quarter cut and thrust of the present discussion invigorating and absorbing. She was surprised when she realised they had reached Clones Place and were drawing up outside number ten.
But how had Andrew known where she lived? He hadn’t asked, and she was sure she hadn’t mentioned it.
Roderick must have told him.
Her exact address?
Unlikely as it seemed, it appeared to be the only explanation.
Or was there another, more threatening one? she wondered as, having surveyed the narrow, whitestuccoed, three-storey building, he slid from behind the wheel and came round to open her door. Was knowing where she lived part of some campaign?
Shaken by the notion, Bel was telling herself not to be a fool when all at once she recalled their conversation while they were dancing.
She’d said, ‘Your being here is too much of a coincidence…’
And he’d answered, ‘Our meeting in the restaurant was a coincidence. This one was carefully planned…’
Bel took a deep, uneven breath while every nerve in her body tightened in panic. Though she didn’t understand how he could possibly have planned it, or what his motives were, she knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that he was stalking her, intent on taking her over.
All at once she became aware that he was standing holding open the car door, waiting for her to make a move. Avoiding his proffered hand, she scrambled out and headed for the wrought-iron steps.
By the time he had taken her case from the boot and followed her down she had opened the black-painted door and turned, at bay.
His smile slightly mocking, he asked, ‘I take it you don’t intend to invite me in?’
Ignoring what she recognised as a ploy, she said with cool civility, ‘Thank you for bringing me home.’
‘My pleasure,’ he returned formally. Stooping to set her case down just inside the doorway, he added, ‘I’ll have Bridges pick up your car later this afternoon.’
‘Thank you.’ Remembering how she’d been welcomed on her arrival at the Bentincks’, Bel’s voice sounded hollow, and her face mirrored her desolation.
Watching her with his usual piercing regard, his voice casual but edged with an unmistakable concern, Andrew asked, ‘You’re sure you’ll be all right on your own?’
‘Don’t worry, suicide isn’t on the agenda.’
Hearing the bleakness beneath the flippancy, he frowned ‘In time things won’t seem so bad.’
‘You can save the platitudes!’ she snapped.
Unruffled, he observed, ‘It may seem a trite remark, but that doesn’t prevent it being the truth, Bel.’
At the end of her tether, she starred to close the door.
Holding it with his foot, he said, ‘I’ll drop by tomorrow and take you out to lunch.’
‘You needn’t bother,’ she told him sharply, too harassed to be gracious. ‘I don’t want to see you again.’
He spoke soothingly, as though to a child. ‘Perhaps after a good night’s sleep you’ll have changed your mind.’
‘No way!’
Smiling a little at her vehemence, he bent his dark head and kissed her lips. ‘We’ll see, shall we?’
A moment later he was ascending the steps with that easy masculine grace which seemed to characterise all his movements.
Though light, his kiss had had its usual earth-shattering effect, and she found she was trembling as she closed the door and leaned against it while she listened to his car drive away.
After a moment, knees still shaky, Bel made her way to the nearest chair and sank into it.
Andrew Storm had proved himself to be a determined man, and even if she kept the door locked tomorrow and refused to answer he could, and probably would, lay seige to the place…
Hands clenched into fists, she strove for calm. For the moment at least she was safe in her own home, and if he did lay siege to the place she’d just have to move in with her father for a while…
Her father… She groaned aloud. Somehow she had to tell him what had happened…No, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him everything; he’d be too shocked and ashamed…
But she must tell him something. And quickly. If he tried to get in touch with her at the Bentincks’…Galvanised into action, Bel picked up the receiver and dialled her father’s number.
He answered almost immediately, as if he’d been sitting over the phone, and she knew he had when he said, disappointment edging his voice, ‘Oh, I thought it might be Ellen.’
‘Then you haven’t heard from her?’
‘No, not yet. But you shouldn’t be worrying about business matters while you’re with Roderick.’
‘I’m not with Roderick,’ she broke in abruptly. ‘I’m back in town.’
‘Back in town? What on earth for? Surely you’re not—?’
‘I’m back in town because Roderick and I have split up. He has his ring back and our engagement’s over.’
‘Over?’ Her father sounded thunderstruck. ‘Are you sure it’s not just a storm in a teacup?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘What on earth did you quarrel about?’
‘Please, Dad…’ Suddenly she was close to tears, ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘But is there anything I can do? You sound terribly upset.’
‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘But there’s nothing anyone can do. I just need some time to collect myself. A breathing space.’
‘Then go away for a while. Leave all the hassle behind you. You’ve more than earned a break…’
She hadn’t had a proper holiday since joining the firm, working all out to consolidate her career, and this year her father had several times urged her to take one. But Roderick had been already committed to an allmale sailing trip in the West Indies, and she had felt little inclination to go away alone…
Now the thought of getting right away was a welcome one. Even more welcome than her father realised.
‘Why not go to Rome?’ he was suggesting. ‘The flat is empty—’ a pleasant second-floor flat was kept for any Grant Filey staff visiting the Rome offices, which were only a short walk away ‘—so you could see all the things you didn’t have a chance to see last time…’
She liked the idea. Her first visit to Rome, after being appointed European Marketing Director,