Stormy Rapture Page 4

  Then he surprised her by turning from the picture and announcing that he was going. "I still have several things to see to," he told her, glancing at her strained face keenly. "And if you've been ill it might be wiser to have an early night. We have a long day in front of us tomorrow." And, as he went out, "Please give my regards to your mother. Tell her I'll arrange to meet her as soon as possible."

  He was gone, and later that same evening when her mother asked eagerly, "What is he really like, Liza?" she wasn't able to answer with any accuracy, not being clear in her own mind.

  "Not too bad, I think," was the best she could manage, which didn't altogether satisfy Mrs. Lawson.

  "I do wish I had known he was coming," she fretted. "Why must you always be so regrettably vague? Couldn't you have given me a ring?"

  "I'm sorry," said Liza unhappily, "but there just wasn't a chance. Actually I didn't think he would come."

  Her mother regarded her impatiently. "You've told him, of course, that you're his cousin?" ,

  "Mums, I refuse to claim a relationship—I told you. Besides, if you'd been here this evening and met Simon Red-ford you might have understood. He'd go through everything with a fine-tooth comb. You know that."

  "I know nothing of the sort," Monica snapped. "You wouldn't be making it up. You really are his cousin, if a few times removed."

  "Only by adoption," protested Liza.

  "But it was a proper legal adoption!"

  "Even so, it isn't exactly the same."

  Thoroughly exasperated, Monica exclaimed, "Maybe not, but no one around here knows. You were adopted long before we came to live near Birmingham. Not even Silas mentioned it, although he knew. Don't you see, Liza, it's our one chance? Otherwise this man might throw us out, and I would never survive."

  "Of course you would, Mums." Liza looked at her sharply. Why must her mother dramatize so? People had survived a worse fate than this, and even a hardened type like Simon Redford might not be without some compunction. He might be willing to grant a little time. "We couldn't possibly manage the down payment on a house, I suppose? It might not be too difficult to find something."

  "Impossible, Liza." Monica's voice rang coldly in her ears. "You know your father left us practically penniless. And it's because you weren't actually John's own child that Silas didn't leave us better off. I still think it was an oversight, of course, but certainly I don't think it had anything to do with me."

  "Which I don't think would make any difference with his nephew, one way or another. He wouldn't be influenced, I'm afraid."

  "Most men can be influenced if they're appealed to in the right way, Liza. If you'd tried a bit harder with Silas, perhaps we shouldn't be in the position we're in today."

  "I'll see what I can do," Liza replied tonelessly, and no more was said.

  For over a week Liza seemed almost to live at the office as well as work there, but if Simon Redford kept her hard at it he worked equally hard himself. With a consistent energy which impressed Liza in spite of herself, he went through the whole business meticulously, his eye for detail pinpointing any irrelevancy immediately. With the aid of his uncle's solicitor and accountant, and heads of various departments, he inspected and consolidated, viewed coolly, receiving a clear-cut picture of the whole. The assets and liabilities he scrutinised closely, applying his own personal brand of shrewdness and quick perception.

  Liza, feeling she might well be on a crash course in business management, expected to be exhausted, but instead, to her surprise, she felt revitalized. Skilfully able to respond to his every request, she was secretly astonished by her own adaptability and new vigour which successfully dissolved the last tired remnants of her recent illness. Following him around, typing, taking dictation both outside and in, learning to accept his good moods along with the bad, she felt full of a new vital life of her own. Not that she had any doubts that she wasn't the only member of the staff who responded to Simon Redford in this way. Already the other employees seemed happier, working with renewed enthusiasm, not so worried any more concerning the downward trend of things during the last year of Silas's life.

  "There's a lot wrong with this company, but on the whole it's fairly sound," he said to Liza, after one particularly trying morning, just before Miss Brown was due back. "Wouldn't you agree, Miss Lawson?" When she nodded silently, he added thoughtfully, "I must confess I like it, it has great possibilities, not fully exploited by my uncle, I'm afraid. To put Redfords firmly back on its feet is going to mean a lot of hard work, and full co-operation from the staff. Am I assured of yours, Miss Lawson?"

  He asked the question sharply, and with all her half formulated plans for escape in her head, she wasn't sure how to answer. Weakly she resorted to evasion. "Miss Brown has been gone almost three weeks. She'll soon be back. You'll no doubt find her much more satisfactory than I am."

  Immediately she had spoken she regretted the phrasing of her short speech. It could imply all manner of things besides what she had had in mind. With a sinking heart she was aware of the watchful expression in his eyes as he replied.

  "Are you fishing for compliments, Miss Lawson, or an assurance that you can continue as my secretary after Miss Brown returns. Maybe both?" This last, very softly.

  Liza's hands clenched behind her back and she kept them there, restraining a sudden desire to throw something. Sometimes he could be so finely sarcastic as to raise within her a delicate surge of temper which she found difficult to suppress. "I don't know why you should misunderstand me," she said coldly. "I was merely trying to say that I'm not important enough to be considered separately. As for continuing as your secretary, if the opportunity should even arise, I doubt if I could keep up."

  He laughed softly at that, mockingly, through the firm but rather sensuous twist of his lips. "Oh, yes, Miss Liza Lawson, you would keep up all right. Just as I had you all weighed up in the first two minutes. You've probably never realised your possibilities, but I have. All you need is a little expert tuition. You're full of inhibitions, not all of them connected with your work, which I intend to straighten out, when I get around to it. I might add that I've enjoyed the process so far—and intend to enjoy it more. In the end, Miss Lawson, you'll respond and repay beautifully, I have no doubt."

  Indignantly Liza blinked, not liking the way his eyes slid down over her lissom figure, in a way which suggested that the meaning of his rather ambiguous speech was twofold. Yet inside her something was already responding alarmingly in a flare of unbidden excitement. Afraid that he might notice, she said hastily, "I have no ambitions to be a human computer, Mr. Redford. Not even," she added, greatly daring, and with emphasis, "for your sake."

  "Well, think about it," he replied suavely, as the telephone rang, and without waiting for her to take the call he picked up the receiver.

  Once again his words were clothed in ambiguity, and again she decided that for arrogance this man took a lot of beating. His smooth, deep voice played seductively about her ears as he spoke with his caller, and determinedly Liza stared across at the window, noting unenthusiastically the regular pattern of the neighbouring rooftops on the huge trading estate—greys, pale sandy colours, washed out greens, the occasional raw splash of a stark red door. Dust rose sluggishly in brown whorls to embrace the sides of rough commercial vehicles as they plied to and fro along roads already whitening to summer dryness. There was nothing delicate or enticing enough to relieve the perplexity of her thoughts here. Outside was a man's world, and as she felt the unconscious pull of his personality, her eyes returned to the man beside the telephone. To a man who owned at least some part of it.

  Simon Redford was, she supposed hardily, representative of big business anywhere. One only need to look at him. It was proclaimed in the impeccable cut of his dark suit, his clever brain, his sophistication when it came to managing men and materials. Irrationally her thoughts explored other avenues. If he stayed here, as appeared his intention, what would he do for entertainment? Already, Liza knew, there ha
d been at least two calls from London in as many weeks, from ladies who had both seemed over-curious as to his whereabouts, and neither had sounded elderly exactly. She had little doubt that his taste in women would be as sophisticated as his outlook on life generally, and she found the thought surprisingly disturbing.

  With a sigh she turned away as he continued his conversation with his secretary. Liza knew it was his secretary; there was no mistaking the crystal clear tones which over-spilled into the room. Simon hadn't been to see her mother yet, and she wasn't sure whether to be vexed or pleased. At first she had been relieved, not eager to face the ensuing complications, but now the uncertainty, along with her mother's constant anxiety, was getting her down. Certainly no one else appeared to have mentioned the situation to him. Silas's own solicitor had been ill, and his partner, who was almost a stranger, had been helping only with business inquiries, which might account for this particular omission. Simon hadn't been accepting any social invitations, she could almost vouch for this, but sooner or later he wouldn't be able to withstand the pressures of a determined society, and then the cat would be out of the bag, she had no doubt!

  After a few more minutes he put down the receiver. "After lunch," he said, "I might want you to come with me. I'll be looking at a project out of town and need you to take some notes. In the meantime you'd better copy some instructions which are to go to London. My dear brother doesn't seem to care for responsibility and needs everything in black and white. Like you, Miss Lawson," he tacked on dryly, "he obviously has no ambitions to become a computer—not even a human one!"

  He went out with Bill Bright later that morning, not re-turning until almost one o'clock. Liza had already eaten her usual packet of sandwiches and was beginning to think he had forgotten when the office door opened quietly, and in he came. Half dreaming, she hadn't heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, and swung around, startled, to find him towering above her, dark and vividly masculine, and not a little menacing. It was the expression on his face, the odd light in his eyes, which should have warned her that all was not as it should be, that something a little out of the ordinary had happened. But such instinctive wisdom was not to save Liza that afternoon. She gave him a quickly impulsive smile, only to find him watching her obliquely, his answering grin sharp with amused derision.

  "I've been to see your mother," he announced without preamble. "I enjoyed meeting her—more, I must admit, than what she told me, my dear cousin."

  CHAPTER THREE

  From the moment he spoke Liza felt her head whirling. There was a curious, suspended pause as she stared up at him, and if he had ever considered the shock to her senses, he obviously thought she deserved it. For a few seconds she was unable to speak. She felt almost bemused, desperately in need of a breathing space. Simon's eyes were on her, narrowed, noting her reaction, totally without mercy.

  "How did you find out?" Her voice, when it came at last, was little more than a croak.

  His mouth tightened. "We were out your way when Bill said something, quite inadvertently, which aroused my suspicions. Not much, but enough to make me decide to see your mother. Our meeting was long overdue, so I didn't need an excuse. But I think you might—and a good one at that. And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

  Liza didn't. Evasion was impossible. She had been found out! "I'm sorry," was all she could say. "Perhaps I should have mentioned it earlier, but there didn't seem much point."

  "I don't get it?" Coolly he continued to look at her. "I have a cousin who doesn't see fit to inform me of the fact. You should have told me when I arrived. You could have mentioned it on that first evening when I took you home. We were nice and cosy in the lounge—or don't I invite confidences?"

  "I intended to…" she began.

  "You appear to have a flair for drama. I really feel quite sorry for your mother. You've been keeping her in suspense as well as me, if in another way."

  "That's scarcely fair!" Liza's eyes widened with righteous wrath. "The whole business is much more involved than you think."

  He was silent for a moment, allowing her to simmer before saying abruptly, "It seems quite straightforward to me." The wide shoulders shrugged negligently.

  Liza's face paled as she blinked uncertainly, not being clear in her own mind as to a definite course of action. Now that it came to the push, it wasn't so easy to go against her mother's wishes. Perhaps it didn't matter all that much whether she was a genuine cousin or not? Now that Simon did know, he didn't seem exactly enthusiastic. She hedged, playing for time, "Nothing is ever as it seems, or only very rarely."

  "So I'm just beginning to realise." His tone, still sharp, was edged with meaning.

  A reply did occur to her, but she could hardly express it coherently with him towering above her, darkly threatening. She did try. "I might explain…"

  "And I haven't time to listen right now, or to discuss it properly, Miss Lawson." His tone emphasised the ridiculous use of her name and, when she flushed, he touched one bright cheek with unforgiving fingers. "Yes, you deserve to be punished a little, dear Liza Lawson. Small wonder various people stared at me when I referred to you thus. One can only hope they didn't take it too literally."

  Her heart beat, too rapidly, as she jerked away from his detaining fingers. Looking up at him, she tried to fathom the dryness of his voice, a slight tremor going through her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Redford," was the best she could manage.

  "You'd better be." He looked at her through half-closed lids. "It's not every day one comes across a long-lost cousin. It might even provide an excuse for a celebration. If you like, we can have dinner together, before you go home."

  His invitation wasn't really an invitation. It was more of an order, and the pleasant interlude which it suggested was belied by the expression in his glinting eyes.

  "I don't know that I can manage this evening," Liza was aware of a mounting despair. "My mother will be expecting me."

  "How old are you, Liza Lawson?" His expression was quizzical, and discerningly his fingers returned to her cheek, sliding beneath her chin to tilt her face towards him with cool insistence. "About sixteen, by the look of you, but your dear mother assures me you're not far short of twenty-two. So you must think of a better excuse than that. There's the telephone; you have my full permission to give her a ring."

  Emerging from a trance, Liza again escaped his fingers with a jerk of her head. She seemed to be making a habit of it. His voice, though faintly teasing, had a disquieting ring to it, and his touch, though cool, had sent a strange blaze of fire along her already taut nerves. She shook her head. "I don't really see any point in it. And if we were to disagree, as seems probable, you would be wasting your time. There's nothing which we couldn't discuss here, before I go home."

  In an enigmatic silence he studied her closely. "I like to get to know my relatives properly, Liza, and in more congenial surroundings than we have here. I still find it a little confusing to know I have any relatives in Birmingham, so you must make allowances and be prepared to humour me."

  Again his tone was tinged with satire, moving Liza to say caustically, "Surely you must have guessed there'd be some somewhere? Very few people have none."

  "Relatives, my dear Liza, are appendages I can well do without."

  She stared, indignantly, not liking what she heard, knowing instinctively he found fetters of any kind irritating, but unable to sympathise. How often had she longed for the companionship of a sister, or even a brother? She said, her blue eyes bright on his grey ones, "But you have a brother, and they—relatives, I mean—can be very nice." , "And a nice damned nuisance, too!"

  She shrank from his sarcastic ill humour. "If you view them in that light, small wonder you haven't found them rewarding!"

  "Liza, listen." Simon heaved a sigh and straightened from his lounging position. "Stop arguing, that's a good girl. Just comb your hair and be ready at six."

  "My hair is a mess…"

  "So I've noticed." Witho
ut giving an inch his eyes left hers to inspect her well-shaped head. "Go and have it done. I think it has distinct possibilities, and I like my women well groomed. Take an hour off- the afternoon if you like, but no more excuses."

  "I couldn't get out of it," she tried to explain later, when Bill popped his head around the office door and offered to run her home. "It's strictly business, of course. Making up for lost time as he's been out most of the day." With dismay she realised this wasn't quite the truth.

  "Well, I suppose he is your cousin," Bill replied in a faintly alarming manner. "This morning I could have sworn he was surprised when I mentioned the fact."

  With lashes suddenly downcast she knew he was probing. His question had been laced with a curiosity which she didn't intend to alleviate. "He was probably thinking of something else," she murmured evasively. "He seems usually one step ahead, I've discovered."

  "You can say that again!" Success crowned her efforts of deviation, as Bill ran exasperated fingers through his thick sandy hair. "I hoped he would sort things out, but not quite to the extent he's doing. He won't leave a stone unturned. I hardly know whether I'm coming or going! He's got his eye on that field of yours, too, for future development, in case you didn't know. So don't let him fool you. Cousin or not, he's man enough to turn any girl's head, and never say I didn't warn you."

  So much for Liza's attempts at deviousness! Her distress at being on the receiving end of Bill's ill-timed remarks took most of the pleasure from her hairdressing appointment. Not that she had actually intended having her hair done at all. Her original plea to Simon that her hair was a mess had only been an excuse to wriggle out of his invitation. Then, in a mood of defiance, she had made an appointment. It hadn't, however, been at her usual salon where they had been unable to take her at such short notice. She had been forced to go to another which was really outside her price bracket. To her chagrin, the man at the new place, as if in league with Simon Redford, had fussed and exclaimed, combed, washed and cut, until Liza had been almost dizzy. She had resolved to use the time to meditate, for constructive thinking, but had been unable to relax enough to do so. Such thoughts which had entered her head had been swept aside by a determined hairdresser. Now her beautifully cut and shaped hair hung in shining perfection across her shoulders, but her chaotic thoughts were no nearer to being sorted out.