The taunt hurt, particularly since she herself had always felt that her father had manufactured her job for her. It made no difference that she had flair and a definite artistic talent, she still worked for her father and was paid a salary the business could not really afford.

'I came here to ask you to go and see my father, Kyle,' she told him coolly. 'Not to discuss my personal life. If you won't...'

She made to walk towards the door and then faltered when he made no move to stop her.

'Still the same old Heather,' he drawled cynically. 'Still trying to use emotional blackmail.'

Instantly, all her good intentions deserted her; her temper, always quick, flared to red-hot heat and she said fiercely, 'That's not true. I was not trying to blackmail you.' She turned round quickly, too quickly, she realised dizzily, as she felt the room start to spin and fade ominously around her.

She was aware of Kyle grabbing hold of her, and then forcing her down into one of the fireside chairs. She even heard him cursing her and calling her a stupid little fool, but for once she felt too confused to protest at the sensation of his hands on her body, pushing away her coat, reaching behind her to release the zip of her dress as he yanked her forward, so that her head flopped down, and she could feel the coldness of the air against her naked back.

The whole affair could only have lasted seconds. No sooner had Kyle pushed her head down than she felt the dizziness start to clear and full awareness return. She sat up immediately, furious to discover that he had lowered her zip so much that she couldn't reach it without contorting herself.

'Stop struggling... I'll do it for you.'

She tensed beneath the cool firmness of his hand on her back. She could feel his breath against her skin, and to her shock the warmth of it raised a betraying rash of small goose-b.u.mps.

'No holiday this year,' he remarked casually as he closed the zip for her. 'Or don't you believe in exposing such pale skin to the sun's rays?'

His comment, although impersonal, threw her; she wasn't used to the intimacy of having a man's hands on her body, and his comment seemed a further intrusion into her privacy.

'My skin doesn't tan. I should have thought you'd remember that,' she snapped bitterly, remembering the one summer she had tried to outdo his almost permanent golden-brown skin, and had practically given herself third degree burns.

Her body had swelled up and her skin had flamed painful scarlet. And, as if that hadn't been enough, she had been diabolically sick, and had had to stay indoors for almost a week with the curtains closed, and her mother constantly applying calamine lotion.

'Your skin will be like leather by the time you're forty,' she added acidly.

'While yours will still feel like the most expensive kind of silk velvet.'

It took several seconds for his comment to sink in, and when it did she turned and stared open-mouthed at him, her shock registering in the rounded darkness of her amber eyes.

'What's wrong, Heather? Surely you're used to men commenting on the delicate quality of your skin. Your lovers...'

His voice was having a curious effect on her senses. She had never had him speak to her in that soft, caressing tone before, and apprehension flared to life inside her as she tried to reject its effect.

The images he was conjuring up shocked her. She felt tongue-tied with a mixture of embarra.s.sment and fury, and although she was unaware of it her eyes had darkened as they always did when she was either disturbed or afraid.

'I've already told you, I didn't come here to talk about my private life, Kyle.'

'As I understand it, there isn't much to talk about.'

He straightened up and carried on before she could digest the full import of his words. 'I will go and see your father, Heather. When I've seen him, you and I will probably need to talk again. Are you free to lunch with me tomorrow? I have to fly to the States the day after to see a potential client.'

What could she say? She had to agree, and she was half-way back to the van before she realised exactly what Kyle had said to her before making that lunch appointment. She stopped dead in her tracks, aware of the black looks her unexpected action was earning her from people forced to avoid colliding with her.

How could Kyle know anything about her personal life? It had been six years since they had last met, and yet he had spoken with such authority, such confidence-almost as though he knew all there was to know about her. But how could that be? Unless... unless he had been keeping tabs on them. She frowned. But if that had been the case he would already have known about her father. Frowning now, she tried to recall if he had shown any reaction to her announcement, but Kyle had always been good at keeping his feelings to himself.

Besides, she had been far too tense and wrought up to pay much attention to how he was looking.

She had achieved what she had hoped for, or at least the first part of it. She ought to be feeling triumphant and relieved, but she wasn't. She didn't want Kyle Bennett back in their lives, not in any capacity; and yet, for her parents' sake, she knew she would have to endure him, if he allowed himself to become a part of their lives. There was always the chance that he would go back on his word, or perhaps just visit her father, and leave it at that.

Whatever happened, her parents must never know that she had prompted his visit. They would hate that. No, that must remain her secret, hers and Kyle's. It gave her an odd feeling to know that she shared something with him from which her parents were excluded.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE snow, which had not lain particularly deeply on the road in Bath itself, thickened once Heather was clear of the city, although fortunately it had stopped falling. The van was old and inclined to be temperamental, and by the time she got home Heather was suffering from the most excruciating tension headache.

She knew that she ought to have something to eat, but the thought of food was totally nauseating. Instead, she made herself a strong cup of coffee and sat down in the old kitchen chair that the cats thought of as their special preserve. Hilda, the oldest of them, a farm tabby of immense dignity, glared balefully at her and then vented her ire on Meg, spitting at the dog as she sat down at Heather's side.

Was she cushioned from reality living here with her parents? It was an almost idyllic existence for anyone who felt the way she did about the countryside; her work was not particularly arduous, and certainly could never be compared with the rat-race suffered by those who had to commute every day to cities like London. Without putting his scorn into words, Kyle had still managed to imply that he found her contemptible; or was it just her own intense sensitivity where he was concerned that made her question herself like this? Kyle had remarked that the business was barely able to support her parents, never mind providing a salary for her as well. That had been quite true, but what he could not know was that recently she had found herself shouldering more and more of the responsibility for the company. Her father had complained of feeling tired, and now she berated herself for not questioning him more deeply, for not seeing that his lack of enthusiasm was a pointer to his physical vulnerability.

She wasn't a complete fool. She knew that the business was slowly going downhill, that the work was going to be too much for her father, and yet, without the business, how could her parents possibly survive?

Her anxiety drove her to abandon her comfortable chair in the kitchen and go instead to the small, cold backroom they used as an office. Once there, she opened the desk drawer that held the company's books.

It took the lack of light in the small room to make her realise how long she had spent there. Raising her head, she ma.s.saged the back of her neck tiredly. It made no difference which way she did the calculations; they were still perilously close to the edge of bankruptcy. Why had her father never told her about the mortgage he had taken out on the house? She closed her eyes, alarmingly near to tears, longing for someone to confide in and hand her worries over to, and yet at the same time knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to help.

It was almost four o'clock. Soon her mother would be ringing, and she had promised that she would go round to the village hall tonight and help to put up the decorations.

Almost on cue, the phone rang, but to her shock it wasn't her mother on the other end of the line, but Kyle Bennett. She was so stunned that it was several seconds before she could speak.

'Not still sulking with me because I told you a few home truths, are you?' Kyle asked her dulcetly, and instantly her fatigue vanished and anger burned through her.

'You've got the wrong woman, Kyle,' she told him crisply. 'I don't sulk. What do you want?'

'I've got a couple of tickets for the Phantom. I thought you might like to see it.'

The total unexpectedness of his invitation took her breath away. She remembered reading somewhere that tickets for the fantastic Phantom of the Opera show were impossible to find and, if she was honest with herself, she would have loved to go, but not with Kyle.

'I'm sorry, I can't,' she told him, not without a certain amount of satisfaction. 'I've got something else on tonight.'

There was a long pause, during which Heather had time to ask herself why Kyle should want to take her out and to wonder exactly what sort of macabre game he was playing with hen Then he said, sardonically, 'I see... where will you finish your evening off, I wonder, his place or yours? It must cramp your style, surely, living at home. Or do you make sure that all your lovers...'

She had slammed down the receiver before she had thought about what she was doing. She was literally shaking with rage and chagrin. How dared Kyle infer that she was making use of her father's illness to bring a man home? How dared he imply...

Shakily she sat down, trying to calm herself. He was not deliberately trying to taunt her, she told herself, he was simply a.s.suming that she lived her life in the same way that he lived his.

Not even the peacefulness of her tea-time walk with Meg had the power to fully restore her to normal.

Her mother rang when she got back to say that her father was making slow progress. They chatted for a while and then she rang off. As she replaced the receiver, Heather frowned. There was a note of constraint in her mother's voice, almost as though she was concealing something from her. Her heartbeat increased in tempo, her skin chilling with fear. Could her father be worse than she thought? She looked at the phone, longing to pick it up and call her mother back, and yet knowing she couldn't.

Despite her concern the evening pa.s.sed quickly. Mrs Anstey had a nephew staying with her who came down to the hall to help them. He was in the army and on leave from Germany, a very pleasant man in his late twenties, with a slightly old-fashioned, rather courtly manner that was undeniably attractive. He was nothing like as physically attractive as Kyle, and yet there was something about him that made her feel protected and safe, Heather decided, warming more and more to him as the evening went by.

She had walked down to the village, and when he offered to drive her back she accepted with alacrity.

It was only a short drive, and she felt obliged to invite him in for a cup of coffee. While she was in the kitchen making it, she heard the phone ring.

'Could you answer it for me?' she called out. 'It will probably be my mother.'

He already knew all about her father's collapse from his aunt, and as Heather poured the heated milk into their mugs she heard him lift the receiver.

'It isn't your mother,' he told her, coming into the kitchen. 'It's some chap called Bennett.'

Heather almost dropped the pan. Kyle, ringing her again? Howard was frowning slightly, his manner slightly withdrawn, almost disapproving, she recognised, bewildered by his sudden volte-face.

'I don't think I'll stay for coffee, if you don't mind. I'm off early in the morning... Nice meeting you.'

He was gone before she could raise a protest, leaving her to hurry to the telephone and pick up the receiver.

'Who's the boyfriend?' demanded Kyle.

'Howard is the nephew of a friend of my parents, not that it's any business of yours,' Heather told him freezingly, adding unwillingly, 'What on earth did you say to him? He wouldn't even stay for a cup of coffee!'

Kyle ignored her question and continued laconically, 'I've been to the hospital and seen your father.'

Instantly Howard was forgotten.

'You have? Kyle, tell me the truth, how is he? Mum sounded very constrained when she rang me earlier. I'm sure there's something she's keeping from me.'

There was an odd pause, and then he said cynically, 'You have changed, haven't you? The Heather I remember was far too wrapped up in her own personal grievances to notice what anyone else felt.'

The taunt was probably justified, but hurt nevertheless.

'Your father is holding his own, Heather, but, as you told me, he's got to have further surgery as quickly as possible. I've spoken to your mother about it, and we've agreed on what we think is the best plan of action. Your mother will ring you later. By the way, she's given me permission to go over the company's books. It seems the business is on your father's mind. He's worrying about it, and she thinks that if I go through the books it will help ease his mind.'

The implication being that she did not have the intelligence to deal with them, Heather thought, hurt by her mother's lack of faith in her.

'I'll bring them tomorrow when we have lunch.'

'No, I'd like to have them tonight. I'll come over for them now, if that's all right, and then we can discuss them together tomorrow when we talk about your father's treatment.'

Heather was too taken aback to protest, managing only a weak, 'Kyle, it's very late. I was just about to go to bed...'

'Alone, I trust,' he taunted suavely.

'It seems I don't have much choice,' Heather retorted freezingly, remembering the way Howard had so quickly and unflatteringly left.

'Disappointed?'

'Hardly, as I had no intention of going to bed with him in any case. Some of us have far more concern for our health than to indulge in emotionally meaningless s.e.xual gratification, Kyle.'

She was quite pleased with that one, and was glad he couldn't see the chagrin she knew must be on her face when he retorted smoothly, 'I quite agree. Anyone who indulges in s.e.x these days without due regard for their partner's past history must either be criminally stupid or have a death wish. I'll be over within the hour,' he concluded without giving her an opportunity to object. 'If you could have everything ready for me?'

The switch from tormentor to businessman confused her, and she found that she had said goodbye and replaced the receiver, without so much as a murmur.

Since she had to wait up for Kyle, she might as well use the time, Heather decided, gathering up the materials she would need for a small order from a local boutique.

The girl who ran it had been at the same school as her. She was married now, with two small children. Her husband had left her during the summer, and this boutique was to be both a means of earning her living and supporting her children, and something to occupy her thoughts and time.

Her husband's desertion had left her bitter and angry; they had been teenage sweethearts and had married when she was just eighteen. Now she was twenty-five, still only young, but with two small children to support she had responsibilities that had aged her emotionally, if not physically.

'When these two grow up,' she'd told Heather, the last time she had visited her, looking at her small daughters, 'I'm going to tell them not to fall into the same trap as I did. And I'm going to make sure that they have some means of supporting themselves. I've been lucky, my parents have set me up in this shop, but I know other girls my age in similar circ.u.mstances who have nothing to live on other than haphazard maintenance payments when their husbands are feeling either generous or guilty, and their state benefit. Have you any idea how much it costs to buy a child a decent pair of shoes?' she had complained.

Heather had promised to create something unusual for her Christmas window, and although the commission wouldn't bring much in in the way of cash, it would give her something to do with her hands while she waited for Kyle.

The last time he had been here had been the night... but no, she wasn't going to torture herself by going all through that again.

The phone rang abruptly, cutting through her thoughts. She picked up the receiver, not really surprised to hear her mother's voice.

'Heather, you'll never guess what! Kyle came to see your father tonight. Apparently he'd heard about... about him being ill, somehow or other, and he came down to the hospital to see him.' Her voice faltered suddenly. 'Darling, are you still there?'

Gripping the receiver, Heather forced a smile into her voice as she responded, 'I'm still here. You must have been happy to see him.'

There was a pause, during which she sensed her mother's hesitation.

'I should have waited until you came in to see your father to tell you, darling, but we were both so surprised to see him.'

'Mum, I'm all grown up now. I don't resent Kyle any more. I've come to terms with my jealousy of him, and I'm delighted that he's been in touch with you.'

Over the distance that separated them she felt her mother's relief. After a brief pause she hurried on, breathlessly, 'He's offered to give us whatever help we need. Oh, Heather, it's such a relief! I've been so worried... Kyle's promised to come with me when I go to see the specialist.'

Jealousy, sharp and piercing, twisted inside her, and she fought it down. She had taught herself to deal with this years ago, and she wasn't going to give in to it now.

'Dad must have been thrilled,' she interrupted, putting as much enthusiasm and warmth into her voice as she could. 'I know how he's missed Kyle... how you've both missed him.'

'He should be getting in touch with you. I was saying how worried we were about the business, and he's offered to go through the books for us. You don't mind, do you, darling?'

The anxiety and concern in her mother's voice stilled her jealousy.

'No, of course I don't,' she lied. 'I'll have the books ready for him.'

'I know how you feel about him, darling, but... Oh, I've got to go, there's someone else wanting to use the phone. I'll ring you tomorrow.'

There had been no disguising the happiness in her mother voice. Face it, Heather, she told herself fiercely. They do love him, not more than they love you, perhaps, but in a different way. You've always known that, and now's the time when you finally prove to yourself that you've actually grown up.

Her parents needed someone to lean on, she knew that. They needed someone who could remove from their shoulders the burden and responsibility of their failing business and, although she hated it, that someone could not be her.

She was still working an hour later when she heard Kyle's car drive up.

It was gone eleven, and she wondered what their neighbours down the quiet country lane would make of his arrival. By tomorrow it would be all round the village that she had been entertaining a man in her parents' absence. She smiled wryly to herself. There was nothing malicious about the village grapevine, and once she had explained who her late visitor was the gossip would quickly die down. Most of the villagers would remember Kyle, and his reappearance would be greeted with the same tactful lack of comment that had been their reaction to her own folly all those years ago. The village was a community that believed in protecting its own, and she had never been made to feel uncomfortable about what she had done.

Perhaps that was why she liked living here so much; she enjoyed the feeling of being part of an extended family. City life, with its pressures and aloneness, was not for her. Not for the first time, as she went to let Kyle in, she wondered a little at her own lack of driving ambition.