Chains of Regret Read online

  If Stein believed the worst of her, didn’t she deserve it?

  Soft words and sympathy would never make her feel she was atoning for what she had done. She felt like a prisoner, knowing she would never feel any better until she had suffered a hundred lashes, or at least its equivalent in some kind of punishment!

  CHAPTER TWO

  STEIN came closer to where she was standing and she could feel his sheer magnetism reaching out to her.

  His hands closed over her shoulders with a strength she found impossible to defy as he studied the fine bone structure of her face.

  ‘You were always beautiful, Helen,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I can see how you would have enjoyed yourself in Paris.’

  ‘I haven’t been enjoying myself anywhere!’ Helen allowed herself to protest this much. ‘At least …’ her voice faltered, ‘not in the way I’m sure you mean.’

  ‘Really?’

  His glance continued its slow appraisal, and she squirmed. Was there to be no end to his mocking speculation? Her figure was good, but suddenly she hated the way his eyes were going cynically over it.

  She had a slender, supple body which men often stared at longer than her face, but she didn’t usually appreciate such attention. Not when it managed to convey only sexual interest.

  One of his hands left her shoulder to touch her smooth cheek. ‘You have beautiful skin, like silk - flawless.’

  Helen’s blue eyes fixed helplessly on his as she tried not to shrink from him. Before, when she had known him, he had been kind. On the face of it, he still was, but somewhere there was a difference. As his head bent towards her, his purpose explicit, she withdrew with a faint gasp. ‘Stein, please!’

  Immediately he let go of her. ‘It’s scarcely the time, is it,’ he said, with a flinty, derisory smile, ‘with Lester barely cold in his grave?’

  ‘No.’ She bit her lip, realising he was as capable of cruelty as of kindness. Only if she could keep one step ahead of him might she be safe.

  ‘Come,’ he said suavely, as her thick lashes flickered and a faint colour stole into her face, ‘I’ll take you back to your room. If I were you I should try and get some rest before dinner.’

  It was almost seven and Helen stood before the long mirror in her bedroom abstractedly studying her own reflection. Her dress looked distinctly shabby. Madame Sibour had insisted they changed for dinner and she had worn the dresses she had taken to France continually. Helen frowned. She might have to ask Stein if it would be possible to get an advance on the money she would inherit from her father. It wasn’t something that had occurred to her until now that she definitely needed some new clothes.

  She must have appeared more anxious than she realised, for in the dining-room Stein glanced at her keenly and asked quietly, ‘More problems?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have,’ she sighed, responding to the note of encouragement in his voice.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ His brows met as she bent without appetite over her soup.

  She had been aware of his eyes on her all the time they had been having a drink in the lounge. She wasn’t to know he had been dwelling with resigned awareness on her sheer loveliness, which a year in France had done nothing to diminish. Helen had thought he was silently condemning her shabbiness and prodded herself into grasping the opportunity this seemed to offer.

  ‘It’s just my clothes,’ she began hesitantly, lifting her head. ‘Everything I have seems so terribly shabby and I was wondering if I could get some money to buy new ones. I would only need enough to tide me over until I see Mr. Dent. Even though he’s away, surely it must be possible for me to have a few pounds from Dad’s estate?’

  Stein said cynically, ‘I didn’t expect you to mention money this evening, but I might have known.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have done,’ Helen’s eyes clouded with hurt, ‘but it was the way you were looking at me. I thought you were criticising my dress.’

  ‘I wasn’t looking at your dress,’ he told her dryly.

  ‘Apart from myself,’ she added hurriedly, ‘won’t I need money to pay the staff?’

  ‘There’s no need to panic, though,’ he observed coolly. ‘I’ll see to everything necessary.’

  Helen was stung to retort. ‘I have to begin managing my own affairs some time! If I borrowed money from you I’d only have to pay it back.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll make sure you do,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t let that worry you.’

  His gaze lingered on her so insolently she could almost feel her flesh beginning to heat. Unhappily she wished she had never mentioned her depleted finances, but she had hoped he would understand. Now she didn’t know what to think. Getting through to Stein was like threading one’s way through a minefield. She was never quite sure whether she was going to make it, or whether he was going to blow up.

  ‘Didn’t you have enough money in France?’ she heard him enquire.

  Again she had an urge to explain what she had been doing in France and what had happened to the cash her father had sent there. That Stein knew about it was obvious and she could tell by the glint in his eye that he; was just waiting for her to deny receiving it. She wouldn’t lie to him, nor would she seek to justify herself by telling the truth, although she knew that by keeping silent she might suffer the full weight of his wrath.

  But this was the only way, she told herself feverishly.

  Only by suffering could she hope to get rid of her feelings of guilt. This had to happen before she could even begin to feel better. One didn’t need to be brilliant to be able to think this out for oneself!

  ‘I only had enough to get me home,’ she said quickly, as Stein repeated his-question.

  ‘Did you have to keep your boy-friend as well?’ he taunted, his eyes raking her mercilessly.

  ‘No,’ she muttered miserably. She ought to have said yes but she craved Stein’s approval so desperately that she couldn’t bear to condemn herself entirely. If she did, he might leave her and she couldn’t somehow contemplate never seeing him again. Slightly dazed by her own inner vehemence, which she didn’t quite understand, she found her eyes sliding away from him, this in itself seeming to contradict her feeble word of denial.

  ‘God!’ he muttered softly: ‘How do you still manage to look so innocent?’

  ‘Perhaps because I am,’ she replied, her voice trembling.

  ‘Remind me to prove you wrong some time,’ he laughed without a hint of humour.

  While they drank coffee Helen still smarted from the hurt of his derision. She felt no clearer about a lot of things but was determined to make an extra effort.

  Whatever the cost, she must let Stein go. She couldn’t continue clinging to him like a vine, feeding on the sense of duty he obviously felt because she was his late partner’s daughter.

  ‘Stein,’ she began, turning towards him, ‘you don’t have to stay here. I’m certain I can manage on my own. When Harold Dent arrives I’ll have plenty of money … and he’ll tell me exactly how I stand. I promise I won’t do anything drastic about the firm without consulting you.’

  ‘I like living here,’ he said absently, leaning against the mantelshelf of the fireplace in the library, to which they had sojourned after dinner as it was cosier than the lounge.

  Helen sighed, wishing he would give her a straight answer. ‘I won’t need a housekeeper and two maids,’ she went on stubbornly, ‘but they can stay until they find other jobs.’

  ‘You can forget about all that!’ he said decisively, his dark face unmoving, as determined as her own.

  He made Helen shiver as his eyes caught hers and wouldn’t let her go. She felt so shaken that she was glad she was sitting in a chair and not standing beside him.

  A protest rose to her lips, but before she could voice it the telephone rang and Stein picked it up.

  ‘Maddison,’ he said abruptly. Then, ‘Oh, hello, Barbara.’ He listened, apparently uncaring that Helen was listening too -- or trying to! ‘Yes, tomorrow evening,’ she heard him sa
y, ‘as we arranged.’

  Who was Barbara? Helen wondered hollowly. When she had known Stein before she couldn’t remember him going out with other women. He had been diligent in his pursuit of her and she had thought she was the only girl he was interested in. But that had been a year ago and there could be no disputing that he was extremely attractive to the opposite sex. He was no hermit either.

  Unhappily she recalled the rumours she had heard and blithely disregarded. Feeling slightly sick with regret, she tried not to stare at him. She was very sure no woman would be given the chance of rejecting him a second time!

  After bringing his telephone call to a close, Stein returned to sit beside her on the couch. He reached for his coffee cup, then leant back to finish it, giving her a view of powerful muscles as he crossed his legs and the dark material of his trousers tightened. Hastily Helen averted her eyes, wondering why she should suddenly be conscious of such things, and why her heart should be racing madly when, on such a day, it ought to be too heavy almost to beat. She only wished for Stein’s friendship, she told herself angrily. It was ridiculous to be reacting to him like an over-sexed schoolgirl!

  ‘Your girl-friend?’ She forced herself to glance at him and speak lightly.

  ‘Jealous?’ His brows rose sardonically as he took his cue from the indignant colour in her cheeks.

  ‘No,’ Helen denied, too quickly, ‘of course not!’

  ‘No?’ He gave a slight smile, trailing his fingers down her wrist before taking her hand and raising her warm palm to his mocking lips. As she jerked it away, he said softly, ‘When I kissed you yesterday you didn’t find me so repulsive.’

  This must be a chance to ask why he had kissed her, but a lack of confidence prevented her from grasping it.

  The moment passed and she murmured breathlessly, ‘Yesterday was different.’

  He laughed, gently taunting. ‘Don’t tell me you’re suffering from a belated dose of conscience?’

  ‘Obviously you aren’t!’ she retorted sharply.

  Again his dark brows rose. ‘Should I be? I’m not greatly troubled by my conscience.’

  ‘You must owe my father a lot.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured reflectively, ‘so you once told me.’

  Nervously Helen pleated her silky skirt. ‘It may sound trite, but a little respect surely wouldn’t come amiss?’

  ‘You’re probably quite right,’ he said soberly.

  ‘Anyway,’ she rushed on, beset by a strange agitation, ‘as you’re seeing your girl-friend tomorrow, you won’t have to restrain yourself much longer.’

  ‘You have such a delicate way of putting things, Helen,’ he grinned mockingly. ‘You weren’t always so tactful when it came to expressing yourself, especially over something which hurt you.’

  Would he never forget her past behaviour? ‘What you get up to doesn’t hurt me,’ she replied woodenly.

  ‘And is it a crime to be young and impulsive? Perhaps while I’ve been away,’ she admitted, ‘I’ve learnt to stop and think before I speak.’

  ‘I wonder?’ Stein eyed her speculatively, his face suddenly degrees colder. ‘Perhaps you’ve learnt to be craftier, that’s all.’

  They were like strangers, at least Stein was looking at her as if she was one. To suspect he had some power over her seemed crazy. It was an indefinable feeling and like all such feelings was better ignored.

  So Helen reasoned as she remembered what she had just said and bit back an angry retort. She wouldn’t convince Stein she had changed by shouting at him like a fishwife. She refused to ask herself why it was important that he should, even when her heart beat faster as she stared at him. When he rose with a sigh to pour himself a measure of brandy, she began talking quickly of other things.

  Helen was up early next morning and after drinking the cup of tea one of the maids brought her, went for a walk in the grounds. Despite the size of the staff, there would be plenty for her to do in the house. For a start she would have to go through her father’s things. But she would wait until Stein left for London before doing anything. He would probably be having breakfast and she had no wish to interrupt him.

  Perhaps tomorrow, if she could get hold of someone about some money, she might go to London with him and buy some new clothes.

  Having imagined him having breakfast or already on his way to town, she was startled to see him striding towards her. He looked so fit and refreshed that she wondered if he had been out riding. After they had exchanged. rather guarded greetings and she asked, he nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I enjoy it.’

  Helen paused uncertainly beside him, a trim figure in her jeans and soft sweater, her fair, silky hair blowing like a mane behind her in the cold winter wind. He studied her coolly, with an interest she tried not to be aware of. Frost in the air had tinted her cheeks with enchanting colour, but it was something in Stein’s grey eyes which made them feel suddenly burning.

  ‘Do you ride a lot?’ She swallowed, his close surveillance affecting her oddly.

  ‘Quite a lot.’ His eyes had darkened a little. ‘You should try it.’

  It wasn’t something he had suggested before as he knew she was nervous of horses. ‘No, thanks,’ she declined lightly, and had no intention of allowing him to change her mind. ‘Dad’s horse will have to go, anyway,’ she sighed, ‘along with the house.’

  ‘The house? What are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s much too big for one,’ she said briefly. ‘I’ve just been looking at it. It would be ridiculous to live here on my own.’

  ‘Your grandfather’s father built it, I believe?’

  ‘Yes,’ she shrugged as Stein turned towards it, ‘but it’s no use being sentimental.’

  ‘You might get married,’ he suggested, ‘and have two or three kids. A lot of space could come in handy.’

  ‘I haven’t even met anyone yet!’ she retorted. ‘It would be foolish to keep a house this size waiting for something which might never happen.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have any problems.’ Again his eyes inspected the early morning beauty of her face, the sensuous promise of her mouth and figure which the faint shadows under her eyes merely seemed to emphasise.

  Helen flushed as his glance darkened and he came a step nearer. He was a strong man, powerful physically and mentally. He had always been able to make her quiver, and only when he kept his distance did she feel relatively safe.

  ‘1 think I’ll concentrate on the house,’ she said, ‘rather than on a mythical husband and family.’

  ‘Well, you can’t do anything until you’ve seen your solicitor,’ Stein said smoothly.

  ‘I know,’ she nodded impatiently.

  ‘Have you seen the pool yet?’ He raised a hand to lift her jacket collar against the icy wind, a protective gesture which made her throat tighten, especially when his fingers caught her bare skin. ‘It might just make you change your mind about selling.’

  ‘The pool?’ she exclaimed, suddenly tense. ‘When was this put in? I had no idea …’

  ‘Didn’t your father tell you?’ Stein sounded surprised.

  ‘No, he did not,’ Helen replied sharply.

  ‘Perhaps that was because you never answered his letters,’ Stein said, his wide mouth unsmiling. ‘He used to say he could tell you a lot more, but he might only be wasting his time.’

  Helen knew she deserved that and she couldn’t blame Stein for pointing it out. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said humbly.

  Silently he took her arm to guide her around the corner of the house along a path leading to one of the outbuildings. The contact brought her close to him and the strength amazingly seemed to leave her limbs as she stumbled and his grip tightened. She was so shaken by the fiery sensation that rushed through her that she was relieved beyond measure when he released her to open a door.

  Once inside the building, she saw a large swimming pool with tiled surrounds, tastefully decorated. ‘It must have cost the earth!’ she gasped.

&n
bsp; ‘Not exactly,’ Stein cast a sardonic glance at her astonished face. ‘Actually it was fairly easy to convert.

  The barn was already there. It was just a matter of digging a hole in the middle and laying a few pipes.’

  ‘But- I don’t remember Dad ever swimming,’ she muttered blankly.

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he had this done specially for guests? Or was it for you?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘For you, actually.’ Stein’s eyes hardened. ‘He thought if we had something like this you might be more inclined to stay at home.’