Dangerous Interloper

‘I’m sorry, but it’s a subject I feel very strongly about,’ she apologised stiffly, all too conscious of the amused look he was giving her.

‘So I perceive,’ he agreed, adding softly, ‘Tell me, what else arouses those strong emotions of yours?’

Miranda gave him a suspicious look. If she had received that kind of comment from anyone else, she might have suspected them of trying to flirt with her, but there was nothing flirtatious in the way he was looking at her.

‘I ask simply so that I can avoid treading on any dangerous ground,’ he told her calmly.

‘I feel strongly about a good many issues,’ she told him coldly. ‘But, since they can hardly be of any interest to you, I don’t see much point in discussing them.’

Without waiting for him to follow her, she started to walk back towards their table, but he caught up with her almost immediately, and as he slipped his hand beneath her elbow to escort her off the floor she thought she heard him saying under his breath, ‘You’d be surprised.’

* * *

HE WAS probably only probing into her work with the committee to preserve the town’s historic buildings because of the work he was having done on the house he had bought, Miranda decided ten minutes later when she was still mentally mulling over their conversation. She was alone at the table, her father having gone over to chat to the president and his wife, and Ben having asked Helen to dance.

It was hot in the ballroom, and she decided to take advantage of the fact that she was alone by slipping out of the room to get some fresh air.

It was possible to walk from the club-house around the building and re-enter it through the conservatory, which had been added to the rear to provide somewhere for the ladies to enjoy their afternoon tea undisturbed by the men.

It was that kind of golf club, and so far none of the members seemed inclined to object to this segregation of the sexes.

It was cool outside, cooler in fact than she had thought, and she shivered a little, walking more quickly. Although the front of the club-house was illuminated, the side was shadowed, the darkness somehow vaguely threatening. Ahead of her she could see the lights of the conservatory. The door was open as though others had had the same idea as herself and used it to seek some fresh air.

Perhaps because she was concentrating on other things, she had no awareness of anyone coming up behind her until she was grabbed from behind and a leering and unwelcome familiar voice was saying in her ear, ‘Well, now, isn’t this just a piece of luck? It isn’t often I get the chance to get you all to myself.’

Ralph Charlesworth. Miranda stiffened immediately, trying to quell the panicky disgust that threatened to overwhelm her at being touched by him.

‘Let me go, Ralph,’ she demanded through gritted teeth.

‘Well, now, you’re going to have to ask me a good deal more nicely than that,’ he taunted her.

He was standing far too close to her, dragging her back against his body, and holding her there with one hand while the other stroked through her hair and down the side of her throat, causing her to shudder in revulsion.

‘You know I’ve wanted you for one hell of a long time, Miranda. Why don’t you stop fighting it and try being nice to me? I’m a generous man… both as a lover and as a man, if you know what I mean.’

Sickness boiled in her stomach, but she fought it down. If she panicked now… She cringed inwardly, knowing how much he would enjoy her terror. Men like him always did… they enjoyed hurting women… bullying them.

She prayed that someone else would come along the path and afford her an opportunity to escape. The hand which had been caressing her throat had now reached her shoulder and she realised in horror that within another few seconds he would probably be touching her breast.

She could feel the sweat breaking out on her body at the thought and repeated angrily, ‘Ralph, let me go. You’re a married man… remember?’ she added desperately.

‘Is that all that’s stopping you?’ He almost crooned the words as though scenting victory. ‘Susie won’t mind. In fact, she’ll be grateful to you,’ he told her, trying to turn her in his arms. ‘She doesn’t like sex, my wife doesn’t. She’s only too glad if someone else keeps me out of her bed. I should never have married her. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t damn well gone and got herself pregnant.’

Anger and revulsion burned nauseously in Miranda’s throat.

‘I didn’t think that was possible, Ralph,’ she challenged him acidly. ‘For a woman to get herself pregnant, I mean.’

He laughed. ‘Well, don’t go worrying about it. By the time a man gets to my age he knows a thing or two. You won’t have any worries in that direction. Anyway, I expect you’re on the Pill, aren’t you? All you modern women—’

‘Ralph, let me go!’ she demanded for the third time.

‘Oh, come on, you can’t fool me,’ he interrupted her. ‘You might have given me the cold shoulder, but underneath… Well, why don’t you admit it? You want it as much as I do.’

He added something so degrading and coarse that Miranda could actually feel the blood draining out of her face.

Quite what would have happened if they hadn’t heard someone coming down the path behind them and Ralph hadn’t momentarily released her, she dreaded to think.

As luck would have it, the other couple were close friends of her father’s and she was able to escape from Ralph by firmly attaching herself to them.

To her relief, Ralph made no attempt to follow her, and it was only when she was safely back inside that she was able to admit to herself how truly frightened she had been. It seemed almost hysterical to frame the word ‘rape’ even in her own mind, but she had no doubt as to what Ralph had had in mind, and it most certainly would not have happened with her consent.

She went into the Ladies more to gain time to calm down a little than for any other reason. In the mirror she saw that her face was pale, her eyes wide and dark with fear.

She combed her hair and retouched her lipstick, and then squared her shoulders and stepped back out into the corridor.

She was halfway down it when she became aware that someone was behind, following her. A hand touched her arm, and immediately she panicked, turning round abruptly and hissing fiercely, ‘Look, I’ve already told you, Ralph. I’m not interested. In fact you—’ she stopped abruptly as she realised that it wasn’t Ralph behind her but Ben, her face going scarlet with mortification.

She saw that he was frowning, his expression almost harsh as he took hold of her arm and drew her firmly into a shadowy alcove.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her curtly. ‘Is Charlesworth bothering you?’

Miranda bit her lip. She had never felt so mortified in all her life. Of all the people to discover…

‘This doesn’t concern you,’ she told him huskily. ‘And if you’d just let go of my arm, I’d like to rejoin my father…’

‘In a minute, and as for it not concerning me… was it Charlesworth you were running away from earlier today when you bumped into me?’

His perception dismayed her. She tried to frame a convincing lie and found tha

t instead she was saying shakily and wretchedly, ‘What if it was? Look, I’m an adult, not a child, and I’m perfectly capable of making clear to a man that his… his interest isn’t wanted.’

‘Are you?’ The dry disbelief in his voice made her wince. ‘It doesn’t look like it from where I stand.’ He paused for a moment, and Miranda was conscious of him watching her, assessing her almost, she suspected, and then he said quietly, ‘Look, let’s forget that you’ve decided that you and I are on opposite sides of an uncrossable chasm for the moment, shall we? All right, so this is none of my business, but if you genuinely don’t want Charlesworth—’

Miranda’s outraged gasp silenced him.

‘I’m not sure what you’re insinuating,’ she hissed angrily, ‘but I can assure you that I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in Ralph. Apart from the fact that he’s married, I think he’s the most… the most revolting example of the male sex I’ve ever met!’

‘Well, that seems definite enough.’

Was he actually daring to laugh at her? Miranda stared up at him. There was humour in his voice, but it wasn’t mirrored in his eyes.

‘Look,’ he said almost gently, ‘there is a type of man, personified by the Charlesworths of this world, who seem to believe that when a woman says “no”, no matter how determinedly she says it, what she’s really doing is encouraging them to prove her wrong. I’m afraid that your rejection of him is only going to make him all the more determined in his pursuit of you.’

Miranda’s heart sank. Ben Frobisher was only telling her what she had already come to believe herself, but it was a confirmation she would rather not have had.

‘So, what am I supposed to do?’ she demanded warily. ‘Tell him “yes”, in the hope that he’ll lose interest?’

‘No. But there is a third solution. I suspect that if Charlesworth thought you weren’t interested in him because you were involved with someone else, he’d soon back off. Men like him enjoying bullying women, but when it comes to their own sex they tend to be a little more wary.’