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  ‘Dear God!’ he muttered once, drawing back from her, but she was too drugged with emotion to let him go, and the yielding pressure of her limbs drove all feelings of remorse from his head. He jerked her back to him, his mouth hardening with increasing penetration.

  ‘Olivia! Olivia, what’s all that water running in there?’

  Bella’s anxious voice was strangely unreal, but it had the effect of restoring Richard’s sanity at least. With a groan of protest, he thrust her away from him, and bending, he picked up the towel and draped it roughly about her bemused form.

  ‘The shower,’ he mouthed impatiently, as she stood there, swaying slightly in the aftermath of his withdrawal, and she shook her head stupidly, trying to bring coherency back to her thoughts.

  ‘Olivia!’ Bella’s voice came again, this time accompanied by a rattling at the door handle. ‘Olivia, why have you locked this door? Open it at once!’

  Olivia turned bewildered eyes in Richard’s direction and he pushed back his damp hair with a frustrated hand. ‘I locked it,’ he said softly, and his words began to bring things back into perspective.

  ‘You locked it!’ she exclaimed, and what she said was only inaudible from outside because she spoke with squeaky indignation.

  Richard inclined his head, and the whole sordid scene became manifest in Olivia’s mind like some awful nightmare. What had she done? she thought, closing her eyes in horror, and finding only the image of her naked body in Richard’s arms imprinted behind her lids. She opened her eyes again quickly, and there he was, male and arrogant, in no manner ashamed of the way he had just assaulted the girl who was his stepsister. And why should he be, she asked herself with painful honesty, when she had responded to him like some shameless wanton, inviting his hands and kisses, and so much more besides …

  ‘Olivia, answer me!’

  Bella was beginning to sound really worried now, and as her ears became attuned to the sound of falling water, Olivia realised the shower was still running. Her tongue appeared momentarily, as she tried to think what she should say, and then Richard bundled her in the direction of the bathroom and went to open the door himself. Olivia opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. Let him explain if he could, she thought bitterly, and dodged into the bathroom, slamming the door and securely locking it behind her.

  Nevertheless, she had her ear pressed to the panels as he opened the door, and she heard his explanation that she was taking a shower.

  ‘There was a fault in the tap,’ she heard him saying, and marvelled at his ability to find an excuse. ‘I was on my way to my room to change when Olivia called me. The thermostat was overheating, but I managed to fix it.’

  ‘Really?’ Olivia wondered if Bella really believed him. ‘So who locked the door?’

  ‘I did.’ Richard sounded as if it was perfectly reasonable, and Olivia was amazed how he could sound so controlled when only minutes before he had lost his head completely. ‘Olivia was in the middle of taking a shower. We didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.’

  The wrong impression! Glory! Olivia’s shoulders trembled against the panels. How could he stand there and say something so outrageous?

  ‘I should have thought the opposite was true,’ Bella was remarking now, the dryness in her tones plainly evident. ‘People usually lock doors when they have something to hide.’

  There was a moment’s silence when Richard might have moved his shoulders in that annoyingly offhand way he had, and then he said wryly: ‘You could be right, Bella. You could be right. But give us the benefit of the doubt, will you?’ and Olivia heard him leave, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  As soon as he had departed, Bella came across the room and tapped on the bathroom door. Olivia started away from it jerkily, her heart pounding heavily as she realised she still hadn’t washed herself, and swallowed convulsively when Bella called:

  ‘Olivia? Olivia, are you in there? For goodness’ sake, answer me!’

  ‘I’m here.’ The words stuck in her throat, but she managed to eject them. ‘I—er—what do you want?’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Bella’s voice still had that worried note of anxiety in it, and suddenly Olivia guessed why she was worried. Bella was of the old school, a prim and respectable lady who, while encouraging the two people she cared for most to get together, would not condone an illicit relationship. She loved Richard, as no doubt she loved her, too, but she was not blind to his faults, and perhaps, where Olivia was concerned, she was beginning to realise the dangers.

  But she was too late, the girl thought forlornly. Richard had already shamed and humiliated her, and although Bella’s intervention had prevented him from possessing her body, it was no gratification when she knew that she had played no part in his denial. On the contrary, in those blood-crazed minutes, she had wanted him to take her, and there was an ache in her lower limbs, as of something torn away. Her virginity? She shook her head, her lips trembling as she did so. She was still intact, if that was the right expression, but her innocence had fled. And there was no satisfaction to be gained from that.

  ‘Olivia, are you all right?’

  Bella demanded an answer, and with shaking fingers she unbolted the door and opened it a few inches.

  ‘Of course I’m all right,’ she declared, hoping the old nursemaid would not hear the break in her voice. She had not yet succumbed to tears, but they were not far away.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Bella scrutinised her sharply through the crack of the door. ‘Richard said something about a thermostat overheating. Are you sure that’s all it was?’

  A bubble of hysteria rose inside Olivia at the unwitting connotation, but it was not amusement that strangled in her throat. ‘I—he fixed it for me,’ she articulated jerkily. ‘Everything’s all right now.’

  Bella pressed her lips together, clearly not satisfied by her response, but unable to voice the fears she harboured. ‘But you’re not wet,’ she pointed out, reluctant to leave her, and Olivia heaved a heavy sigh.

  ‘I will be—soon,’ she averred tremulously, and Bella shook her head with increasing perplexity.

  ‘You didn’t—Richard didn’t—well, I mean—everything is all right between you two, isn’t it?’ she asked finally, and Olivia almost gave in to the weakness that was threatening to overwhelm her.

  In time she remembered that Bella was Richard’s ally, not hers, and fighting back the tears, she exclaimed: ‘Of course. What could be wrong? And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my shower before the water board start complaining about the waste.’

  The door was closed at last, and the bolt secured once more, and Bella was obliged to leave her. But in the bathroom Olivia did not immediately step beneath the spray. The tears she had been suppressing would be denied no longer, and she gave in to harsh choking sobs, that luckily were drowned by the sound of the water.

  How could she have behaved so recklessly? she asked herself contemptuously. How could she have encouraged him to treat her in that way? She had never thought of Richard as a lover, and she could scarcely believe what the chaos of her thoughts revealed was true. God! she had let him hold her, caress her, touch the most intimate parts of her body, with a wanton freedom that spoke of experience. Would he assume now that she had let other men abuse her as he had abused her, would he despise her for the weakness she had displayed? Why had she done it? He had never treated her like that before. Was he showing her that she was no better than the girls he brought to Copley, or was this some deliberate ploy to persuade her to do his bidding?

  The more she thought of this, the more reasonable it seemed, but whatever his motives, he had succeeded in demonstrating how little resistance she had against the demands of her body. While she was still basically ignorant when it came to the intimacies between a man and a woman, she did know that men could be aroused without feeling anything but lust, but it was humiliating to discover that she could be aroused in a similar way. It was humilia
ting, and frightening, too, to realise how little control she had over her own emotions, and it was no consolation to know that Richard had been almost to the point of no return.

  With a sense of despair she dropped the towel and stepped beneath the cooling spray. The hot water she had mixed with the cold had long since dissipated, and the shower was icy now, like needles against her burning flesh. She scrubbed herself violently, wanting to rid herself of the remembrance of Richard’s flesh against hers, but it was impossible to erase the scars that went beneath the surface. She could still feel the imprint of his hard muscles, the powerful length of his legs pressing against hers; and what she hated most was the realisation that she had enjoyed that sensation.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JILL NORMAN was five years older than Olivia. She worked for her father’s firm, Richard explained over the dinner table that evening, although Olivia did not ask what kind of business Mr Norman was in. Indeed she said very little, and it was left to her stepbrother and his guest to sustain the conversation.

  It had taken a great amount of courage to come downstairs at all, and Olivia had spent the good part of an hour erasing the swollen blotchy patches that her tears had left beneath her eyes. Applying a dark mascara, she had reflected bitterly that she had cried more in these last few days than she could ever remember doing before.

  She had been wary as to how Richard would treat her, but as on that other occasion when he had manipulated her to his satisfaction, he treated her with politeness and respect. He was the perfect host, urbane and affable, giving most of his attention to Jill Norman, and making Olivia feel as if she had imagined that scene in her bedroom. It was hardly credible that this relaxed and charming man, the man she had known and loved as a brother all these years, should be the same man who had ravished her mouth with his, and shown her her own vulnerability. How could he sit there at the head of the table, a narrow cheroot smouldering between his fingers, very much the master in his own home, making casual small-talk with his guest, while Olivia was having the greatest difficulty in remaining in her seat? Had it not been for Alex Bishop’s undemanding companionship, she knew she would have had to make some excuse and left them, torn by emotions she neither recognised nor understood. She made her escape when Richard left to drive Jill home to Oxford, and by the time he returned she was safely in bed.

  The next morning, however, after another restless night, her dreams tormented by images of Richard making love to one woman after another, she awakened with the firm intention of leaving Copley and going away for a few days on her own. She would register at an hotel in London, she decided feverishly, putting on a fine suede suit, with a fringed skirt that drew attention to the slenderness of her legs. Richard could make what he liked of her behaviour, but she needed some time to herself, and not even the prospect of Jules’s imminent arrival could rid her of the sense of impending disaster that was gripping her.

  Her plans were thwarted in two ways—one, the discovery when Eliza brought her breakfast tray that Richard had had to leave that morning for the United States, and two, Eliza’s added communication that Miss Ponsonby had fallen, getting out of bed, and was presently in some pain from a sprained ankle.

  The fact that Richard had left so precipitately was significant, she felt. She wondered if he regretted the scene which had taken place between them, and this was his way of avoiding unnecessary embarrassment. After all, he was used to casual encounters with women, and maybe his overtures towards her had been an impulse of the moment, inspired by his anger and her provocation. It was not a satisfactory explanation, not when she remembered the locked door, but his departure was a respite and she was glad of it.

  Bella’s ankle, meantime, was badly swollen, and Olivia could be sure she had not contrived it. But she would not submit to the calling of the doctor, and Olivia compromised by binding an iced bandage around the injury and insisting she rested until the swelling subsided.

  ‘At least you won’t be grumbling because you haven’t got your bicycle,’ she remarked dryly, abandoning all thoughts of leaving for the time being, and Bella snorted.

  ‘Leaving it at the Morrisons’! What will the vicar’s wife think? Did she see you get off the bus?’

  ‘No.’ Olivia shook her head, as she got to her feet after attending to the ankle. ‘I was very careful about that.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘It was a long walk home.’

  ‘I expect it was.’ Bella’s temper had not improved with her incapacity, and she sniffed impatiently. ‘I’ve said before what an ungrateful girl you are, and I’ll say it again. You don’t deserve what’s waiting in the garage for you.’

  Olivia gulped. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Didn’t Richard tell you? No, he said he hadn’t. He asked me to break the news.’ She paused, deliberately prolonging Olivia’s suspense. ‘Go and see! I don’t think you’ll be wanting to borrow my bicycle again.’

  Olivia went through the house on uncertain feet, half dreading what she guessed she would find in the garage. Richard had said he would get her a car when she was home for good, but she had not expected him to act without consulting her.

  The vehicle that awaited her inspection was a metal-grey Mercedes sports. Long and sleek, and superbly elegant, it was the car she had once admired in a showroom window, and which Richard had maintained was too powerful for a beginner. Black upholstery matched the contrasting hood, the dashboard a complicated array of instruments. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever possessed, and she felt an overwhelming sense of frustration that she could not tell Richard so. It was so like him, she thought tremulously, her chin wobbling a little. Giving her something so magnificent, and then disappearing so that she could not thank him for it. In those first exciting minutes, she completely forgot her earlier feelings towards him, and she couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel and try it for herself.

  Bella was unbearably smug when Olivia returned to ask her for the keys. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ she declared, handing them over. ‘I heard what you said to Richard yesterday afternoon when you got home. Grumbling about Miss Norman using the pool! I’ll have you know, she drove the car here for you. Her father owns the garage where Richard bought the car.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  Olivia stared at Bella unbelievingly, but the nursemaid was adamant. ‘Oh, yes. It was a surprise for you, and look how you thanked him!’

  A little of Olivia’s excitement dispersed. Unknowingly, Bella’s explanation had rekindled all her doubts and suspicions, and remembering what had happened the previous afternoon, she couldn’t help wondering whether this was not yet another chain to bind her to Copley. Richard was shrewd, and he was clever. How long had the Mercedes been on order, and when had he decided it was not too powerful for her after all?

  But the thrill of owning such a car was too exciting to resist for long, and pushing her misgivings aside, she went to try it. It drove like a dream, fuel-injection, power-assisted steering, six cylinders turning the engine over with a rhythmic thrust, it accelerated without effort, cornered smoothly, and gathered speed rapidly on the straight. At the wheel, with the radio playing sweetly in her ears, she thought of nothing but how lucky she was, and it was with regret that she eventually had to turn for home.

  In fact, she enjoyed the days that followed. With Bella confined to her chair, Olivia had full control of the house, and she accomplished this duty painlessly, without thinking too much about it. Eliza’s mother, Mrs Garnett, was quite willing to come and take over the baking, and Olivia herself assisted her, practising some of the menus she had learned at the finishing school in Paris. Bella was more than willing to rest her ankle when she found her charge was coping so efficiently, and if Olivia suspected she was being quietly manipulated again, she made no bones about it. It was too hot to waste time in futile arguments, and besides, it was a way to pacify her conscience.

  Alex Bishop divided his time between Copley and the London office. He, like Richard, had his own apartment in
town, but when Richard was away, it was just as convenient to deal with his employer’s mail at Copley.

  His explanation that Richard had known about the American trip the afternoon before his departure was discomfiting, however. It was another black mark against her that she had not given him a chance to explain, and Olivia wondered now whether that had been his reason for coming to her room. But it did not explain the locked door, and the memory of that still had the power to bring her out in goose bumps.

  Thursday was drawing closer, and with it the arrival of Jules Merignac. In one way she was relieved that Richard was away. At least she would not have to tell him where she was going and who she planned to meet. But in another way, she was sorry the inevitable argument was having to be postponed, and wished she could have made her small stand for independence with his knowledge.

  Nevertheless, when she told Bella on Thursday morning that she was spending the day in London, she expressed enough concern for two.

  ‘London!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re going to London? Who with? Shelley Foster?’

  Shelley had rung, along with several of her other friends, during this week she had been at home, but Olivia had had the excuse of Bella’s incapacity to avoid making any arrangements. She had been quite happy to potter about the house and garden, re-acquainting herself with the horses, and enjoying the liberty of being able to drive into Chelmsbury whenever she liked.

  Now she shook her head, turning away so that Bella could not read her expression as she said: ‘I’m meeting a friend, actually. Someone I met in Paris. No one you know.’

  ‘A man?’ Bella was very shrewd. And the inevitable rejoinder: ‘Does Richard know?’

  Olivia sighed. ‘It is a man, as it happens,’ she declared, realising there was nothing to be gained from lying. ‘And Richard may know or he may not. I don’t know, and I don’t care.’

  She knew this was courting hostility, but it couldn’t be helped. Bella had to understand that she had her own life to lead, and prevarication would only complicate matters.