No Gentle Possession. Anne Mather

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘GOOD evening,’ he was saying now, in that lazily attractive voice she remembered so well. ‘I just called to see – my God!’ He stared at her in astonishment, and she felt the hot colour run up her cheeks.

      ‘Good – good evening, Mr. Whitney.’

      His eyes narrowed, strange, amber eyes, like the eyes of a cat, with thick black lashes. ‘I was right!’ he said, almost to himself. ‘We had met before, hadn’t we?’

      Karen thought quickly. ‘I – er – of course. We met about a month ago in Grüssmatte.’

      ‘I don’t mean that,’ he said, frowning. Then he shook his head. ‘No matter.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘The name – I should have guessed.’

      Karen shivered. ‘It’s very cold, Mr. Whitney. What can I do for you?’

      ‘You could invite me in,’ he remarked dryly.

      Karen was about to refuse, but then good manners stopped her. He was her father’s superior, after all; the son of the mill owner, even if Howard Whitney had gone on to bigger and better things.

      ‘Very well,’ she stepped back. ‘Won’t you come in? My father’s in bed, of course.’

      ‘Naturally.’

      Alexis stepped into the small hall which was immediately dwarfed by his presence. Karen felt disturbingly aware of him, and walked quickly ahead of him into the living-room. Gathering together her books which had been strewn all over the couch, she said: ‘Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? There’s only whisky, I’m afraid.’

      Alexis unbuttoned his coat, but he didn’t sit down. He stood on the hearth looking about the room, looking at her, until she felt hopelessly out of her depth.

      ‘Whisky would be fine,’ he agreed quietly. ‘Tell me: how is your father?’

      ‘Possibly better in health than temper,’ she replied, pouring whisky into a glass from the sideboard cabinet. ‘Do you have anything in this? Water – or ice?’

      Alexis shook his head and she put the glass into his hand. ‘That’s fine, thank you.’ He swallowed a mouthful, and then went on: ‘Why do you say your father’s angry? Because I sent him home?’

      Karen twisted her hands together wishing he would sit down. ‘I – I suppose so,’ she replied, wishing she had not mentioned it. Her father wouldn’t be very pleased if he knew what she had said.

      Alexis nodded, looking down thoughtfully into his glass. Watching him, Karen was aware of every small detail about him, her eyes lingering on the fine material of the dark suit he was wearing, a dark grey fur-lined overcoat on top. His hands holding the glass were lean and hard and tanned, like the rest of him, and a disturbing feeling of apprehension ran through her. She had only been a young girl when she met him seven years ago – seventeen, little more than a child really. But she was a woman now, and whatever it was he had possessed then, he still possessed to a greater degree, and she did not intend to be foolish enough to tamper with it. Her own experience had taught her that if nothing else.

      He looked up. ‘I’m afraid your father doesn’t like me.’

      Karen glanced round apprehensively, half expecting her father to appear at any moment. But judging from the silence upstairs she could only assume he was still sleeping. ‘I – er – I’m sure you’re wrong.’

      ‘No, I’m not. He doesn’t think I know anything about the wool trade. He thinks this is only a game to me.’

      ‘And isn’t it?’ The words were out before she could prevent them.

      ‘No.’ His brows were drawn together and suddenly he looked very formidable. ‘I intend to do this job to the best of my ability, and it would make things a whole lot simpler if your father accepted this.’

      Karen bent to pick up an errant exercise book. ‘Well, it’s nothing to do with me, Mr. Whitney.’

      ‘Isn’t it?’ His tone was curt. ‘I’m beginning to think it is.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes were very wide and very blue.

      ‘Surely it’s obvious.’ He finished the whisky in his glass and dropped it carelessly on to the mantelshelf. ‘I’m the man who once tried to persuade his daughter to sleep with me!’

      Karen’s cheeks burned, and she pressed the palms of her hands to them. ‘Don’t say that!’ she cried.

      ‘Why not?’ His lips curved derisively. ‘You do remember, Karen, however much you try to deny it.’

      ‘All right, all right.’ Karen glanced fearfully over her shoulder, but there was no sound. ‘All right, I remember. But – but my parents never learned the identity of – of the man!’

      ‘Didn’t they?’ Alexis was ironic. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

      ‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’ Karen’s hands dropped to her sides. ‘Now, if you’ve said everything you came to say, perhaps you’d go!’