'Where have you been?' Mrs Heathcliffe exclaimed, as soon as she let herself into the apartment. 'Rupert's been trying to reach you all afternoon. I told him you'd gone shopping, but he still kept on ringing just the same.'

'Heath?' Helen moistened her dry lips. 'Heath's been ringing me?'

'Haven't I just said so?' Mrs Heathcliffe answered irritably. 'I must have answered that phone half a dozen times. Anyway, he says he's coming to see you tomorrow, so you'd better not be out when he calls.'

Helen put her hand to her throat. 'Tomorrow?' she echoed. 'Did he say why?'

'Something to do with that school in Geneva, I imagine,' declared Mrs Heathcliffe shortly. 'I really didn't ask him. I'm going to be late for my appointment as it is.'

Helen stared at her. 'You're going out?'

'Of course. I told you this morning I was attending a meeting of the bridge club this evening. Surely you haven't forgotten.'

'Oh-no. No.' But in all honesty, she had. In the upheaval of finding herself accommodation, she had completely overlooked Mrs Heathcliffe's arrange- ments.

'Anyway, Mrs Henley has left you a slice of quiche and some salad in the fridge,' said Heath's mother brusquely. 'As I shall be eating out, I told her not to bother with anything hot. You scarcely eat enough to keep a fly alive as if is. I was sure the quiche would be more than acceptable.'

'Oh, it is. It is,' Helen nodded, her mind racing off at a tangent. If Mrs Heathcliffe was going out this evening, that would mean she would be alone.

What a heavensent opportunity to make her escape, particularly with the prospect of Heath's visit looming on the horizon. Of course she would have liked to have seen him-indeed, her heart actually ached at the thought of what she was doing to avoid him. But seeing him again could only cause her more pain, and she had had quite enough of that to be going on with.

Mrs Heathcliffe left just before seven, and Helen cut herself a slice of the quiche to carry into her bedroom and eat while she was packing. She didn't have that much time. She didn't want to be carrying her cases out of the apartment just as Heath's mother returned, and although she was generally quite late home from these occasions, Helen was not about to take any risks.

One case was packed and standing by the front door and the other in the process of being so when the doorbell rang. For a moment, Helen was too shocked to do anything but stand there like a statue, but then, realising it could not be Mrs Heathcliffe home at this time, she hurried to answer it.

Halfway along the hall, another possibility struck her. Heath! she thought faintly. It could be Heath on the other side of that door. Oh, no, she prayed fervently, what am I going to do?

She had two options: one, she hid the cases and the evidence of her packing and opened the door; the other, she simply pretended there was no one home. The apartments were not like houses. There was no convenient window to peer through, no betraying light to indicate that someone was in.

If she remained perfectly silent, whoever it was might go away, and her heart palpitated wildly as the bell rang again.

What she was not prepared for was what happened next. Instead of her visitor giving up and going away, a key was inserted into the lock, and she watched in horror as the Yale catch turned and the door fell silently inward.

'Helen!'

Heath's harsh use of her name unfroze her locked limbs, and she stepped back uncertainly as he came into the hall. She should have known, she was telling herself fiercely, she should have guessed he might have a key. His mother was not a young woman, and it was reasonable that he should have some means of access in case she fell ill.

'Helen!' He saw her as he closed the door, saw her, and the betraying suitcase standing squarely in the hall, and his green eyes grew quite glacial as they comprehended her dilemma.

He looked every bit as forbidding as she had imagined, the black suede pants and matching jacket he was wearing accentuating his grim expression.

He looked tired, too, and paler than she remembered, but just as unforgiving as he surveyed her jean-clad form.

'What the h.e.l.l is going on here?' he demanded, slamming the door and leaning back against it, slipping the key he had used back into his pocket.

'Don't pretend you didn't hear me. It's obvious that you did.'

'I heard you,' she got out faintly, glancing nervously behind her. 'I-I didn't know who could be calling. Your mother's out.'

'I know that.' He straightened away from the door, his eyes appraising her apprehension intently. 'Evidently you knew it, too. Isn't that the meaning of this-little conspiracy?'

'There's no conspiracy.' Helen drew an unsteady breath. 'I-I'm leaving, that's all-'

'The h.e.l.l you are!'

Brushing past her, Heath strode swiftly along the hall to her room and disappeared inside. She heard the impatient banging of cupboard doors, of her bathroom door being opened and closed, and then he appeared again, more slowly, his dark face worn suddenly, and drawn.

'What have you been doing?' Helen took an involuntary step towards him.

'I haven't stolen anything of your mother's, if that's what you were afraid of.

I'm only taking the things that belong to me.'

'I didn't imagine otherwise.' Heath spoke heavily and without heat. 'I just thought-oh, h.e.l.l, I just thought there must be someone here, someone with you, some person responsible for you packing up and walking out.'

'There is.' Helen held up her head. 'I've got a job-a job in Manchester. It's not much, but I'll have my independence. And I've found somewhere else to live.'

His face grew haggard. 'But why? Why, for pity's sake?'

'You know why,' insisted Helen unsteadily. 'I can't go on being dependent on you. And-and I have no intention of going to that school in Switzerland.

You can't force me. I'll be eighteen in three months.'

'Oh, for pity's sake!' Heath came back along the hall wearily, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. 'You don't have to get a job, if that's all that's troubling you,' he muttered. 'I was coming here this evening to offer you an alternative.'

'You were?' She watched him as he pushed open the door of his mother's overcrowded living room with his foot and walked heavily into the room.

'Well, I don't need your alternatives any longer. I've got an alternative of my own. But I'm glad you've decided that I'm old enough to lead my own life.'

'I didn't say that,' he retorted, as she came to stand in the open doorway.

He shook his head, his expression taut. 'On the contrary, I had every intention of keeping you within the sphere of my influence. A friend of my father's, an elderly lady, whose husband died recently, is desperately in need of some young companionship. I was about to suggest that you became her companion. At least, for the winter, until, as you say, you reach your majority.'

'I see.' Helen pressed her palms together. 'Well, that won't be necessary now.'

'What do you intend to do?' Heath spoke roughly, his hands clenching and unclenching inside the taut cloth of his pockets, and she moved her shoulders cautiously.

'I-er-I'm going to work for a hairdresser,' she said, and ignoring his indrawn breath, she went on: 'I've got a room in a house in Prestside.'

'Prestside?' Heath repeated the word savagely, and she nodded.

'I know it's not a particularly nice area, but-'

'Not a particularly nice area!' echoed Heath, with emphasis. 'My word, it's a slum, Helen! No wonder you were planning on running away. You must have known I'd never agree to this.'

'You don't have to agree,' declared Helen doggedly. 'It's my life, not yours.'

'Is that what you believe? Is that what you honestly believe?' he demanded violently. 'For the love of heaven, Helen, I can't let you do this.'

She stared at him steadily. 'You can't stop me,' she averred, even though the knowledge that she was defying him was eating her up. 'You washed your hands of me when you brought me to Manchester. You didn't care about anything but getting me out of your house. You can't expect to go on telling me what to do, when you've made it abundantly clear that you don't really care a d.a.m.n about me!'

'That is not true.' Heath spoke indistinctly, his voice slurred by some emotion she could not identify. 'It was because I cared about you that I sent you away. Haven't you realised that, you stupid kid!' He turned to rest his arm along the mantel, dislodging a porcelain cupid that smashed heedlessly on to the hearth. Oh, Helen, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.' He pressed his forehead against his sleeve. 'I need you so badly, I just can't think straight any more.'

She gazed at him disbelievingly. 'I-I don't believe you. This-this is just some-some ruse to get me to do what you want, isn't it?'

'Is it?' He lifted his head and looked at her, and her heart turned over at the naked pa.s.sion in his eyes. 'Do you want to take a bet on that? I haven't had one decent night's sleep since you left.'

'Oh, Heath!' She was trembling, but still she didn't move and he straightened.

'You're seventeen and I'm thirty-five,' he said huskily. 'For the last three years I've been telling myself that the difference in our ages is too great, that as you grew up and had boy-friends, I'd feel differently. But I didn't.'

Helen shook her head helplessly. 'But why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I intended to fight it,' said Heath harshly. 'Why do you think I've been avoiding you since you came home from school? Why do you think I employed Angela Patterson?'

She gulped. 'I-I thought-because of what other people might say,' she breathed, and he gave her a wry look.

'Since when have I cared what other people said?' he demanded thickly.

'Other people would have had me put you in a children's home. Other people considered our relationship almost indecent.' He bent his head. 'I was determined that it wouldn't be so.'

'Oh, Heath!' Helen spread her hands. 'But you sent me away.'

'After seducing you, yes,' he agreed flatly. 'I didn't admire myself for that.

You were right-just then, I did want you out of the house. Loving you was an addiction I had no intention of satisfying.'

'But-but why?'

'For pity's sake, Helen, I thought I was doing the right thing. I knew I couldn't keep you with me, and marrying you seemed out of the question. I thought-oh, I don't know what I thought. I guess it did cross my mind that if I could send you away for a while we might both come to our senses, but heaven help me, it didn't work. These past weeks have been h.e.l.l on earth, and I came here this evening with the intention, as I said, of fixing you up as Mrs Golightly's companion.'

'Mrs Golightly?' Helen blinked. 'But-she just lives across the river-'

'-about three miles from Matlock. That's right,' agreed Heath heavily.

'Far enough to be out of temptation, but near enough for me to keep an eye on you, and on the people you a.s.sociate with.'

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. 'It's been h.e.l.l for me, too.'

She paused. 'I've lost weight. Haven't you noticed?'

'I noticed,' he said huskily. 'I noticed everything about you in those minutes when I thought you must have got involved with some other man.'

'Were you jealous?'

She couldn't resist the question, and his lips twisted. 'What do you think?'

he demanded. 'If I could be jealous of Fox and young Ormerod, then yes, I think you could say I'd be jealous of any compet.i.tion.'

She made a little sound of exhilaration. 'You were jealous of Miles?' She shook her head. 'He said you were, but I didn't believe him.'

'I guess he's more perceptive than I thought,' said Heath quietly. 'So- what are you going to do now? Do you still want to go ahead and take this job?'

Helen half turned to rest her spine against the frame of the door, her limbs shaking so much, she could hardly support herself. 'What-what is the alternative?' she whispered, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, and with a m.u.f.fled oath, Heath crossed the s.p.a.ce between them.

He halted right beside her, so close that the arm she had raised to rest against the opposite framework of the door was brushing his chest. Then, with evident restraint, he lifted her hand from its position and raised it to his lips, taking each of her fingers into his mouth in turn, depositing a kiss on each.

'The alternative,' he said, somewhat constrictedly, 'is that you could marry me at Christmas.'

'At Christmas?' Helen's cry was a protest.

'Yes, at Christmas,' he affirmed huskily, his mouth against her palm. 'Then no one can say you were not old enough to make your own decision. Always a.s.suming you accept my proposal, of course.'

She expelled her breath unsteadily. 'Of course I accept your proposal,' she exclaimed, looping her other arm round his neck. 'Oh, Heath!' this as he gathered her close against him. 'Oh, Heath, why must we wait so long?'

'We-oh, Helen!-we don't have to wait to be together,' he muttered unevenly, his mouth finding the parting of hers. 'I-I may be diligent in some ways, but that is not one of them. Indeed,' his fingers slid beneath her hair to cradle the vulnerable curve of her nape, 'the way I feel right now, I don't think I can wait until I get you back to Matlock.'

'You're taking me back to Matlock?' she breathed eagerly. 'When? When?'

'Tonight?' he suggested unsteadily. 'Or am I asking too much?'

'Too much?' Helen shook her head, burrowing against him urgently, sliding her arms about his waist inside his jacket with compulsive abandon.

'But I shall have to explain the situation to Ricardo.'

'Ricardo?'

Heath drew back to look at her, and she gave a helpless little grimace.

'The hairdresser who has employed me. The one Angela wanted to cut my hair, as it happens.'

'Angela wanted you to get your hair cut?' Heath interceded harshly, and she nodded.

'Ricardo said it would be a shame-'

'd.a.m.n right!' His hand slid possessively into the silken ma.s.s of curls. 'If I'd known-'

'You'd probably have agreed with her,' said Helen ruefully, and he expelled his breath heavily.

'I've been a brute, haven't I?'

'Some,' she admitted unsteadily, and he covered her mouth with his with increasing hunger.

'Leave-Ricardo to me,' he told her thickly. 'Right now, I'm not thinking very coherently. What time did you say my mother was due back?'

Some time later, Helen opened her eyes to find Heath propped on his elbow beside her in her bed, regarding her with unconcealed possession. 'You know, you're the only female I know who looks good without any make-up,'

he remarked, touching his tongue to the corner of her mouth.