Claiming His Shock Heir

‘As you once humiliated me,’ Scott reminded her. He raised his arm and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s eight o’clock, if you intend to be in the office for nine you’d better get up.’ When Philippa glanced pointedly at him he leaned back against the pillows, his hands behind his head. The sheet had slipped down to reveal the tawny warmth of his skin, faint marks marring its smoothness on his shoulder where in her passion she had bitten him. Her own body was no doubt similarly bruised, and a wave of heat swept over her as memories of the night surged into her mind. ‘I can’t get dressed until you leave.’

‘You mean you don’t want to. You forget, Philippa, that I’m the boss, and I have no need to be at my desk at nine. It’s up to you entirely, I’m quite happy to stay here all day, but I don’t imagine you want Simon to come looking for you a second time. He’s very easily shocked for a boy of his age and—er—experience, isn’t he?’

His mockery of her son was the last straw. Philippa slid from the bed, too angry to care about her nudity, or the way Scott watched her as she walked over to the wardrobe. Her body was still sleek and supple, her breasts fuller than they had been when she was seventeen, her body more voluptuous, her skin pale and satiny, unconscious allure in the way she moved.

Something in the quality of the silence stilled her. She glanced round and saw that Scott was watching her intently. A silent message passed between their bodies, hers responding to it immediately, Scott’s eyes smouldering hotly. He wanted her! She checked the heady feeling of power the knowledge gave her and gathered up her clean clothes.

‘So it was Rivers who filled your mind last night was it?’ Scott said softly, ‘But I was the one who possessed your body, Philippa.’

‘So you did.’ She wasn’t seventeen now and he wasn’t going to quell her by reminding her of how vulnerable she was to him physically. ‘But it’s generally accepted among experts that the most powerful human sexual stimulant comes from the mind.’

‘Meaning?’ He said it softly, but there was no mistaking his banked-down rage.

Philippa glanced at the bathroom door and edged towards it, flinging over her shoulder, ‘Meaning that I allowed my imagination to tell me that it wasn’t you who touched me but Geoff. Now do you understand, or do I have to go on?’

She was in the bathroom, with the door locked securely behind her, before he could respond. She showered slowly, letting the water run over her skin, trying to blot out feelings and sensations from the night before. She still loved Scott. He had changed, almost beyond belief, but there was still something there, something which drew her with a compulsion she had never felt for anyone else. She had wanted him to make love to her, shaming though it was for her to admit it, and if Simon hadn’t arrived when he did this morning he would have made love to her again. Despite her mental tension her body felt irritatingly relaxed; so lethargic and indolent that she felt like two separate people, her mind completely detached from her body, and fiercely resenting its voluptuous pleasure in Scott’s lovemaking.

When she emerged from the bathroom he had gone and the communicating door was closed. Heaving a faint sigh of relief she went downstairs, wondering what on earth she could say to Simon. He was having his breakfast when she walked into the dining room, and greeted her rather off-handedly.

She had finished her grapefruit and was drinking her coffee when he fired the first salvo, blurting out, ‘Why do we have to live here, why couldn’t we have stayed in the cottage?’

‘Because that’s the way Mr Garston wanted it,’ she replied formally, colouring hotly when she saw the arrogant disbelief in his eyes. ‘Simon, our being here is not by my choice,’ she assured him hotly. ‘You know that. If you hadn’t had that accident with his car.…’ She bit her lip. It was no good blaming Simon for what had happened.

‘Why was he in bed with you this morning?’ Simon watched her steadily, ‘Have you told him about me?’

‘No. Oh, Simon.…’ She pushed tired fingers through her hair, how on earth could she explain to him? ‘I’ve got to work this morning, we’ll talk about it later.…’

‘Do you still love him?’ He wasn’t looking at her, his attention concentrated on the floor, and Philippa drew in a short sharp sigh. What on earth could she say? She had always tried to be truthful with him, and had always congratulated herself on their open relationship, but she was quickly discovering she had been living in a dream world. He had never told her for instance that he knew about his father. ‘Yes… yes, I do,’ she said shakily, ‘but we can’t talk about it now.’

‘Is he still very angry with you?’

She seized on the excuse gratefully, ‘Yes, Simon, he is and that’s why he was in my room this morning. You see he feels that he must punish me because.…’

‘Because you left him?’

‘Yes,’ Philippa agreed thankfully. ‘Something like that. I’ll have to take you up to the school soon, so that you can meet the headmaster.…’

‘It’s closed for half term,’ Simon told her. ‘Scott told me when I asked him.’

‘Scott?’ Her eyebrows rose, ‘Wouldn’t Mr Garston be more polite?’

‘He is my father.’ His face was sullen again and Philippa bit back a small exclamation. Everything was getting out of hand, running away from her. ‘I’ve got to go to work now, Simon. I’ll see you at lunch time. What will you do with yourself whilst I’m gone?’

‘I’m going to watch them working on the new computer. Scott said I could,’ he added defensively, ‘and I want to. I like him,’ he added stubbornly, ‘even if he doesn’t like you any more.’

CHAPTER FIVE

TO her relief Philippa was too busy to spare any time on her own problems, and as the morning progressed she recognised that Scott hadn’t lied about his need of a secretary. The previous girl seemed to have had little or no idea about filing, and Philippa found that she was kept busy simply sorting through the backlog of mail and familiarising herself with all the different systems.

Hank came in and showed her how to use the word processor, which thankfully she soon managed to pick up. He was congratulating her on this when Scott walked out of his own office and told Philippa curtly that if she had time to waste gossiping she could use it to make him a cup of coffee and take some dictation. He was no more difficult to work for than her previous boss, or at least he wouldn’t have been were it not for her continual awareness of him as a man. While he seemed to be able to shut off the personal side of their relationship while they were working she could not. She was constantly aware of him, every sense heightened by his proximity. He had only to reach out towards her to take a file, or answer the phone and she was tensing in physical awareness, remembering what his body had felt like against her own, her mind full of disturbing visions of him.

At twelve o’clock her outer door opened and Cara Laine walked in. The American girl was dressed expensively in a soft linen suit which Philippa thought privately was a little too old for her, like her hairstyle and glossy make-up. She gave Philippa a cold stare and said, ‘No need to announce me, Scott is expecting me, we’re lunching together.’ She walked over to the inner door and opened it, calling out sweetly, ‘It’s only me, darling. I’ve come to collect you for lunch.… I spoke to daddy this morning,’ Philippa heard her say as the door was closed. ‘He’s very keen to come and see you.…’

Was Cara’s father as keen for a marriage between Scott and his daughter as Cara herself was, Philippa wondered, and then marvelled at the power of the mind over the body. She felt acutely sick at the thought, cold nausea seeping through her body. Scott marrying Cara, she couldn’t endure it. She didn’t look up when she heard the door open, although she was actually conscious

of Scott as he walked past her desk, his fingers cupping Cara’s elbow, his dark head angled attentively towards her. Did he enjoy taking her to bed, she wondered savagely, impaled on the spears of her own jealousy and hating herself for the intimacy of her thoughts. She had never felt like this about anyone, never; in the past Scott had not given her any cause for jealousy and she didn’t like the discovery that she was capable of feeling it so intensely.

Damn Scott, and damn Cara Laine, Philippa thought impotently half an hour later, wrenching yet another piece of paper from her machine. Hank walked in just as she was putting it in her wastepaper bin and grinned humourously, ‘Lack of blood sugar, that’s what’s the matter with you. How about joining me for lunch? The pub in the village do really good plain food.’