'Take you to bed? Don't tempt fate,' he advised her, and for a moment she was almost tempted to believe that he was actually contemplating what he was threatening, and then she remembered that he had always had a Machiavellian sense of humour, and decided instantly that if he thought he was going to get to exercise it now at her expense he could think again.

'Why not?' she retorted carelessly, giving a dazzling and very manufactured smile. 'I doubt that even you could teach me anything I don't already know. I'm not seventeen any more now, Kyle. A macho display of s.e.xuality is hardly likely to send me into a flutter of confusion these days.'

'So it seems, but just let's get one thing clear, shall we? In private, I'm prepared to take just as many insults as you care to dish out, but in public...'

'Your image is that fragile?' She smiled with sweet malice.

'No, but your father's health is,' he reminded her brutally. 'And, for his sake, I suggest that you at least try to pretend you can be in my company for over five minutes without wanting to shred the skin from my back.'

Heather stood up, shrugging. 'That's fine by me, but I don't like being goaded, Kyle. Kick me and I kick back.'

'Does the same thing apply in reverse? Are you as responsive to kisses as you are to "kicks" I wonder?'

'That's...' They were back where they had started, and she checked the words, holding them back. Instead, she said acidly, 'That's for me to know.'

'And me to find out?' Kyle murmured suggestively. 'Well, well. I never thought that...'

'No, that's not what I meant,' Heather protested, fl.u.s.tered. 'You know it wasn't. Oh, for heaven's sake!' she groaned, capitulating, 'Will you please stop confusing me with all this innuendo? All right, maybe we can never be true friends, but surely we can do better than this?'

The plea came from her heart, her defences going down as she realised how ill equipped she was to deal with a man of his calibre.

'Please, Kyle, help me,' she pleaded despairingly, 'You're right, it will hurt my parents dreadfully if they see us quarrelling, but all this is new territory for me.'

She held her breath, dreading hearing him make the kind of sardonic response that would show that he was not taking her plea seriously, or, worse, that he was amused.

His reply was a long time in coming and when it did, it made her body tense with shock, and yes, pleasure, too, she recognised later, when she tried to a.n.a.lyse the multiplicity of sensations she had experienced.

'I take back all the insulting things I ever said about you,' he told her quietly. 'You've grown up to become one h.e.l.l of a woman, Heather: female enough to resent being verbally attacked, and yet big enough to put aside those feelings and lower your defences. I don't know if you scare me the most when you look at me as though you'd like to see me burst into flames in front of your eyes, or when you look at me the way you're doing right now. Friends?' He shook his head and said softly, 'No, maybe we'll never be that, but for what it's worth you have my respect.'

It was worth more than she could ever tell him; with those few words he had wiped out a raw wound so old and so deep that she had forgotten it was there. It was only the sudden cessation of its ache that reminded her. Ever since the folly of her attempted suicide, part of her had despised herself for her weakness, for using such cruel emotional blackmail on those who had loved her. She had lost her own self-respect, and for Kyle to say that she had his was like being given back a part of herself. She felt a tremendous inner softening toward him, an urge to go up to him and touch him, a need to almost physically embrace him, as though they were indeed brother and sister. But as she reached for him he side-stepped, widening the gap between them, his face suddenly taut and harsh.

'Let's just leave it there, shall we? You'd better start making tracks, that sky doesn't look too promising.'

He had rejected her, had rejected her physical overture of... of regret and affection, and she felt so cold inside that her muscles ached and hurt the way her flesh did when she was physically cold.

It was on her mind all the way home. Why had he done that to her? Why had he almost pushed her off, as though he loathed the very idea of her touch?

Why not? part of herself argued hardily. Up until that particular moment in time, if asked, she would have said that she loathed the thought of being touched by him.

They could have shared so much, if only she hadn't been so determined to shut him out of her life. They could have... but it was pointless mourning now the brother he could have been. It was too late to turn back the clock. She could only go on, and hope that one day she would break through the barrier he had thrown up between them and convince him that...

That what? Heather didn't know. She only knew that she was conscious of a tremendous loss; of a great sadness and heaviness of heart; of a sensation of having stupidly deprived herself of something she would mourn for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THAT sensation of almost being at one with Kyle didn't last very long.

The snow was still holding off, although the late afternoon sky was ominously heavy with its winter burden. On impulse, instead of spending the day working as she had intended to do, Heather turned the van round and drove into Bristol. Once there, she was lucky enough to be able to park it relatively close to the shops.

Seeing families battling through the busy streets, their arms piled high with brightly coloured packages, made her realise how close Christmas was-something she had forgotten in the aftermath of her father's collapse, when all her energies had been concentrated on willing him to get better.

This would be the first Christmas she had not spent with her parents. She could see the wisdom of Kyle's insistence that they go away to Portugal just as soon as her father was fit enough to travel. Several weeks spent snowed up in a cold, draughty house worrying about heating bills was hardly likely to aid his recuperation, while a month or two spent in what she was sure would be luxurious surroundings, in Kyle's Portuguese villa...

She was being selfish to wish that Kyle had suggested that she should go with them. He had made it clear to her that the job he was offering her was no manufactured sinecure and, that being the case, she had no right to expect to be allowed to take time off in order to spend the best part of the winter with her parents. And yet it hurt that Kyle had not even suggested that she might fly over to Portugal just to spend Christmas with them.

What on earth would the pair of them find to say to one another, cooped up in that beautiful house of his? Would they manage to last out the Christmas season without quarrelling? Kyle obviously wanted her there as little as she wanted to be there. No doubt normally he spent his Christmas somewhere exotic, like the Caribbean, or perhaps somewhere more traditional, but just as expensive, such as Gstaad. And of course, whichever location he chose, no doubt there would be a beautiful woman to accompany him, to...

Abruptly, she stopped still in the street. What was it about Kyle that sparked off this almost uncontrollable surge of physical awareness? Even his conversation had been sprinkled with acidly barbed s.e.xual innuendo. She shivered tensely, digging her hands deep into the pockets of her old coat. What was it that had changed so much between them and that made her so intensely aware of Kyle as a man?

The resentment, the dislike, the antagonism; these were all emotions she remembered and understood; but this new s.e.xual undercurrent, this alien and dangerously strong power that moved through her whenever she was with him, this was new. Completely new, she admitted, oblivious to the curious stares of pa.s.sers-by at her motionless figure. This was something she had never experienced before in her life. And she didn't want to experience it now. Slowly, almost painfully, she started to move, all her concentration turned inwards as she forced herself to confront the warring anomalies within her own personality.

Why was it she should react so strongly to Kyle, when all the other men she knew left her completely cold?

It wasn't a question she could answer and, because it made her feel so uncomfortable and almost alienated from herself, she pushed it to the back of her mind, and concentrated instead on looking for the small Christmas presents she had come to Bristol to buy.

Christmas was normally one of her favourite times of the year. On Christmas Eve she loved to walk into the shabby sitting-room and see the presents piled up under the tree.

At eleven they always left for Midnight Ma.s.s, and then afterwards had friends back for some of her mother's home-made wine and mince pies. Despite the fact that they went to bed late, they were always up early in the morning to unwrap their presents and get ready for the almost constant onslaught of visitors who called throughout the day.

This year there would be none of that to look forward to. Her hand tensed on the small box of scented soaps she had been examining. What was she going to do with herself, cooped up with Kyle for the whole of the Christmas holidays?

Her eye was caught by a display of books, and she grimaced faintly. She would have to stock up with plenty of good reading; that would help to pa.s.s the time.

If she was Kyle, she wouldn't welcome her stay at all, she recognised, wondering uncomfortably what plans he might have made that her presence would spoil. It was ridiculous of her parents to expect him to take her in! Good heavens, she wasn't a child; she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

Disconsolately she put the box down, unaware of the frowning irritation of the girl behind the counter.

She couldn't get out of going, and it would be childish to try. Surely she was capable of enduring less than a week of Kyle's company, for the sake of her parents' peace of mind? It was no use telling herself that she was an adult; in their eyes, she was still vulnerable, and she admitted that she would hate her father's recovery to be held up by any action of hers.

Moving more briskly, she headed for another shop. It was silly to waste time worrying about how she would cope with Kyle when she had so much to do. She looked down at the list in her hand, and frowned slightly over her own handwriting. Normally they all did this together, taking more pleasure in buying their small gifts than most other people seemed to do in spending much greater sums.

Another book caught her eye. It was one she knew her parents would love and she bought it on impulse, even though it was expensive. She only hoped that there would be enough s.p.a.ce left in their cases for it.

Although her mother was able to visit the hospital whenever she wished, Heather tried to keep to normal visiting hours, so as not to disrupt the ward too much. A glance at her watch reminded her that it was time for her to go if she wanted to see her father.

The hospital was within pleasant walking distance, and chill winds made her hurry along briskly.

Nurses hurried in and out of the building like busy worker bees, an ambulance pulling to a screaming halt as Heather approached. Averting her head, she quelled the sick despair flooding through her body at the sound of its siren. Since her father's collapse she had nightmares about hearing that ominous sound.

The ward was a long one, with her father in a smaller four-bedded room at one end.

As she pushed the door, Heather heard voices, and tensed, recognising Kyle's.

'She seems to...' Abruptly he broke off and turned his head.

An unwelcome sense of dej vu engulfed Heather as she stood there, but she knew well from where the unwanted memory came. It was her childhood all over again. A childhood during which she had felt that she stood on the outside, while her parents and Kyle formed a small, exclusive adult group that excluded her.

Her immediate impulse was to turn and run, as she had done many times as a child, but she managed to quell it, and instead forced her lips to curve into some semblance of a smile.

Her father, she saw now, was watching her with loving, concerned eyes, and she focused her attention on him, ignoring Kyle's tall, dark figure at his bedside.

'You didn't say you were coming to visit Dad.' She couldn't do a thing to stop herself from making the small, stinging remark, and however much she wished it unsaid when she saw her mother's quick concerned frown, the best she could do was to add quickly, 'If I'd known, I'd have begged a ride with you. The van isn't too reliable at the moment.'

'It was an impulse decision,' Kyle said smoothly, but she could read the condemnation in his eyes and knew that he could see through her smile to the bitterness in her heart.

'Kyle's just been telling us that you'll be staying with him over Christmas. I must say that it will be a relief to know that you'll be with him.'

'It's very kind of him to have me.' What else could she say? 'I must say I rather envy you two, though, sunning yourself in Portugal while we'll probably be knee-deep in snow.'

'Well, I have to admit I am looking forward to it,' her mother responded, adding with a quick look at her husband, 'Of course, it all depends on how well your father responds to the surgery. I was going to ring you tonight. The specialist has been to see him already.' The warm smile she gave Kyle made Heather clench her teeth to stop the sharp, bitter protest leaving her throat. 'Kyle's been absolutely marvellous, taking all the worry off our shoulders. The specialist has scheduled the operation for the day after tomorrow.'

Kyle frowned. 'I wish I could put off this trip to the States, but I'm afraid it's impossible. I should be back in a couple of days, though. Heather, perhaps you could pick me up at the airport? I'll get a taxi out there, but they aren't always easy to come by when you land. I'll leave a set of keys for the Jaguar. It is insured...'

Heather wanted to protest that she had no intention of driving his car, nor of picking him up, but just in time she remembered why she had embarked on this venture in the first place, and said dulcetly instead, 'I'll try to make sure I'm there on time.'

She saw Kyle look at his watch. 'I'd better go.'

He turned to kiss her mother, and automatically Heather stepped back from him. She saw that he had not missed the significance of her withdrawal when he looked grimly at her, but he said nothing, turning instead to her father.

'I'll see you when I get back.'

The comparison between her father, so tired and grey in his hospital bed, and Kyle, so full of vitality and health, tore at Heather's heart. She had to turn away to hide the sudden shimmer of tears filming her eyes. She hated anyone to see her cry, and Kyle most of all.

'Remember,' he told her quietly, as he turned to leave, 'I expect to find you installed in the house when I come back.'

'I can't tell you what it's meant to us to see Kyle again,' her mother said quietly once he had gone. 'It's done your father so much good, and the fact that he's insisting on buying the company has lifted such a weight from our shoulders. He says he's told you all about his plans,'

Surely that wasn't a touch of wariness in her mother's voice? It hurt just to think that her parents might be apprehensive of her reaction to Kyle's takeover.

'Yes, yes, he has, and I think Dad's done the best thing,' Heather said firmly. 'I must say that I'm looking forward to starting my new job.'

She managed to sound so enthusiastic that she even surprised herself, but it was worth the deceit to see the smile of relief in her mother's eyes, as her whole expression lightened.

'Oh, darling, I'm pleased for you. You were wasting your talents with the company. This job with Kyle will open up a whole new way of life for you. Are you excited about the New Year's Eve "do"? From what Kyle was telling me about it, it promises to be a fabulous event.' Heather frowned, and her mother checked herself, and bit her lip. 'Oh dear, he hasn't told you, has he? He must have wanted to keep it as a surprise.'

More likely, Kyle hadn't told her because he knew quite well that she would refuse to join in with his plans, Heather thought angrily.

'Come on, Mum, you might as well tell me now,' she insisted, trying to look excited and pleased.

'Well, promise me you'll try and look surprised when Kyle tells you?'

'Yes... yes, of course. Now, don't keep me in suspense any longer. What "do"?'

'Well, it seems that Kyle has been invited to a very grand masked ball to be held at a private house just outside Bath on New Year's Eve. It's something to do with the fact that his firm did most of the restoration work on it. Anyway, everyone has to wear period costume, and Kyle said that in view of the fact that his house was built in the Elizabethan era he thought he would hire a costume of that age. He asked me for your measurements so that he could hire a costume for you.'

Heather fought back the jolt of anger that burned deep inside her. Her mother looked as pleased and excited as a small child. How could Heather explain to her how angry and resentful she felt at Kyle's high-handed action? Where she saw his behaviour as superior and interfering, her mother plainly saw it as generous and thoughtful.

Kyle Bennett was someone they would never see eye to eye on, and for the sake of her parents' peace of mind she would just have to pretend that she thought he was as wonderful as they did.

'Promise me that you won't let him guess that you know,' her mother begged. 'I think he wants it all to be a surprise for you.'

'I shan't say a word,' Heather a.s.sured her, mentally deciding that there was no way Kyle was going to force her into going with him. No way at all.

'I'm surprised that Kyle isn't going away for Christmas,' she remarked casually, changing the subject. 'It seems rather dull for such an eligible and wealthy bachelor to stay at home. Unless, of course, he's having guests.'

'Not as far as I know.' Her mother responded in innocently to Heather's probing. 'He did say that as this was the first year he's owned the house, he wanted to spend Christmas in it. Is it as lovely as it sounds?'

'Yes,' Heather admitted rather shortly. In fact, although she wasn't going to say so, the house came so close to the sort of home she had always dreamed of owning herself that it was hard not to feel envious of Kyle for owning it.

'Kyle did mention that he was anxious to do justice to it with his Christmas decorations,' her mother continued uncertainly. 'I did suggest that you might be able to give him a hand?'

It was plain from her expression that she was faintly apprehensive of Heather's reaction.

It hurt to discover that her parents still thought that she had to be treated like spun gla.s.s, that they still felt they had to walk on tiptoe around her in some instances.

'It's the least I can do to repay him for putting me up,' Heather responded evenly. 'In fact, the house is so lovely that decorating it for Christmas will be much more of a pleasure than a ch.o.r.e. It's hard to believe that it's less than a month away.'

'I know. The specialist was saying that once he's sure the operation's a success your father can leave for Portugal almost straight away. Kyle's already checked, and apparently there's a first-rate American hospital not far from the villa and he's already arranged all your father's aftercare.'

It was all wrong that she should feel this helplessness, this feeling that time was rolling back and that she was once again tongue-tied and resentful in the face of her parents' obvious love for a boy she could only hate.

This time, it wasn't going to be like that. Kyle could never usurp her own place in her parents' hearts, nor did he want to. As she held hard to that thought, mercifully Heather felt the red mist of mingled pain and misery fade. Shakily she drew in one breath and then another, a dizzy, giddy feeling of release.

Pleasure filled her and she felt so light, with it that she could almost have floated up to the ceiling. It worked; she had used her own will-power, her adult conception of the past and present, her own self-control to beat back the demons of her childhood, and she had won. It wasn't Kyle who was her enemy, she recognised, but her own deep-rooted insecurity.

Her counsellor had told her that years ago, and she had accepted his word, but there was a vast difference in being told where the problem lay and in accepting and knowing it for oneself.

'You look as though someone's just given you the stars,' her father commented.

'Nothing so mundane,' she teased him with a grin, refusing to be drawn, despite his curious questioning. And then, because she could see her father was getting tired, and because a part of her wanted to be alone so that she could savour her first true victory over the misery of her insecurity, she bent and kissed him swiftly and then turned to her mother.

'It's time I left. I've still got some shopping to do, and I don't want to leave it too late. The sky looked very ominous this afternoon.'

'I don't like the thought of you driving that van in bad weather conditions,' her father fretted, frowning.

'I'll be perfectly all right. You know how careful I am,' she soothed him.

'Ring us when you get back,' her mother suggested quietly. 'That will put your father's mind at rest.'

It was only later, as she drove back through the darkness, that she realised that for a girl of her age she was, perhaps, a little too close to her parents, a little too cherished and protected.

Now where had that idea come from? Did she really need to ask herself? Kyle, of course; that look of his, that suggested that she was wrapped up in protective cotton wool, safe from the realities of life and its pains, had found its mark.