Dangerous Discovery

‘Well, that’s mighty good of you!’ Estelle snapped, aggravated beyond endurance by the mocking twist of his mouth, his total callous attitude towards her, by the fact that, despite everything, she couldn’t help but be aware of him as a man, couldn’t help but feel the power and the sensuality that was all wrapped up among the steel and the rough, sharp edges. He surely is, she thought swiftly, the most dangerous male package I have ever set eyes on. ‘You...you keep me locked in here like a prisoner,’ she continued shakily, ‘and now you stand there, telling me you’ve thought better of it and then have the gall to offer me a lift home—’ She halted abruptly at the warning expression on Hunter’s face and wondered where on earth she had found the nerve to speak so aggressively. ‘Well, thank you,’ she added crisply, instantly aware that it would be foolish to pursue her belligerent tone a moment longer, ‘but I do not require a lift. I have my bicycle and it’s only a short distance into the village from here.’

‘Your bike, I’m sorry to say, seems to have developed a puncture,’ he drawled with an infuriating lack of concern. ‘I sent someone to retrieve it and it is now resting securely in the boot of my car. So you see,’ he added smoothly, turning towards her with an expression that dared her to defy, ‘you have little choice in the matter but to accept my more than gracious offer.’

Estelle clenched her teeth together and tried with all her might to look as if she was capable of taking control of the situation. ‘But I want to walk,’ she repeated.

‘What you want I’m afraid doesn’t come into the equation. I am insisting you accept a lift,’ he replied calmly. ‘You have to travel on some pretty lonely roads. Never let it be said that I allowed a defenceless young girl with a baby to walk or ride alone on a dark night.’

‘I’ll be quite all right,’ Estelle persisted doggedly. ‘It’s barely dusk and anyway I don’t—’

‘Stop arguing, child!’ It was a bark that would have forced everyone except the most stupid into silence. He turned away, loosening the tie at his neck with an irritated tug. ‘The matter’s not open for discussion. ‘Now remove that panic-stricken expression from your face and follow me.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘IF YOU’LL just stop the car right here,’ Estelle murmured, anxiously waiting for the first moment at which she could alight and escape.

Hunter brought the Jaguar to a smooth halt outside the second-hand clothes shop and turned off the ignition with a swift glance at the rather shabby exterior of the building. ‘You live here?’

‘Yes.’ Estelle turned a defiant face towards him. ‘Why? Do you have some sort of a problem with this vicinity?’

‘No. I have no problem.’ He gave a clearly dismissive shrug, his glance holding and matching Estelle’s robust gaze with ease. ‘I was merely asking a straightforward question, that was all.’ He opened the door. ‘I’ll get your bike out.’

Estelle followed him around to the back of the car and tried to wrest the aged but trustworthy contraption from his grasp as soon as it had been placed on the ground. ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said pointedly, aware that his hands were still firmly clasping the handlebars. ‘I can take it from here.’

‘You live above the shop?’ He glanced again at the less than salubrious surroundings, his eyes scanning the area with complete and utter efficiency, letting Estelle know with the length of his gaze that he had missed not one depressing detail. ‘I’ll wheel it over for you.’

‘Look, I don’t need your help!’ Estelle announced almost desperately. ‘I’m perfectly capable of pushing a bicycle by myself. Now if you don’t mind—’

It was too late. She might have known Hunter wouldn’t take the slightest bit of notice of her. She watched angrily for a second or two as he wheeled the bicycle around to the side-alley.

‘Here OK?’

She nodded, her lips pressed together firmly as his gaze swiftly took in the pile of old boxes and dustbins, the flight of steps that led to her chipped green front door, the general and utterly depressing ambience of the area.

Estelle, much to her own annoyance, felt the tears welling up inside again. How incongruous he looked standing there in his dark, expensive evening suit, casting observant, speculative eyes around, making her feel small and insecure and totally inadequate, she thought miserably. Oozing sophistication, while she stood, faded and shabby in her washed-out floral skirt and ancient leather sandals.

She swung away from him angrily, turning to rummage in the pocket of her cardigan for her key. Oh, what had possessed her even to consider going anywhere near him and his damned home? It had been a foolish, foolish whim born out of desperation. If only she hadn’t come across Connie’s diary, if only she had done the sensible thing and burnt it straight away. Estelle closed her eyes as those heart-rending sentences in Connie’s huge wild scrawl came swinging back into her mind.

As long as Hunter doesn’t find out about Joseph. I made such a mistake. I was such a fool to believe all the lies. But now at least something good has come out of my stupidity. I know Hunter too well. I don’t want him charging in, causing me more pain, more anguish. Haven’t I suffered enough already?

‘Have you got the key?’

She felt the cold metal against her fingers and nodded dumbly. I must not cry, she repeated silently over and over as she retrieved the key from her pocket. I must not get upset now. It’s not going to get me anywhere, going over and over what may have happened. There’s nothing I can do to bring Connie back.

Estelle climbed the steps, acutely aware of the fact that Hunter was following her. She turned at the door, raising herself to her full height. ‘I’ll be fine now,’ she informed him steadily, thankful for the dusky night which was closing in with every minute that passed, because he surely wouldn’t be able to see the sheen of wetness that had, despite her determination, formed on her cheeks. ‘Thank you for the lift but you’ve no need to waste your time with me any longer.’

‘I’ll wait until you’re safely inside,’ he replied evenly. ‘In this sort of neighbourhood it pays to be careful.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’ Estelle flashed irritably. ‘You make it sound as if there are rapists and muggers on every corner!’

‘You know very well what I mean,’ Hunter informed her lazily. ‘This end of the village has a reputation. There’s a pub around the corner that attracts the worst kind of drinkers. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard them when it’s throwing-out time and that you’re not the slightest bit nervous as they pass by your door on a Saturday night, because I won’t believe you for a moment.’

‘OK, so there are a few rowdies from time to time,’ she conceded snappily. ‘But that doesn’t automatically mean anything. And don’t think I didn’t see the look on your face when you first arrived here,’ she added, angry at his cool arrogance. ‘I know it’s a mess, I know it’s tatty, but I’m the one who lives here day in day out. I think I can judge better than anyone whether it’s safe for me or—’ Her voice came to an abrupt and sudden halt. She had been about to thrust the key angrily into the lock. Now she stared at the chipped front door that was already swinging open, at the splintered frame with its jagged edges and rough, angry scars.

‘What is it?’ Hunter’s deep voice was alert as he moved forward out of the semi-darkness.

Estelle, a small moan of frustration escaping from her lips, stood aside, wrapping her arms around Joseph’s body, watching despairingly as Hunter’s large, capable hands swiftly examined the door and the frame.

‘Stay here! I’ll check it out.’

‘But...what if—?’

‘Be quiet!’ His commanding voice was weirdly reassuring in the gloom. ‘Just stay here and don’t move.’

She watched, every part of her alert and on edge as Hunter opened the door wide and moved cautiously into her flat. What would she do if there was someone still in there? More to the point, if there were several of them what would Hunter do? However much she despised him, the possibility of some thug violently attacking Hunter filled her with horror.

After only a few short seconds he reappeared, and even in the failing light she could see that his expression was grim.

‘There’s no one here now.’ He flicked on the light switch by the door. ‘But I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a shock. Come on, look for yourself.’ He took her hand and she knew automatically by the faintly reassuring squeeze and the strength of his grip that she must prepare herself for the worst.

Estelle stood motionless just inside the door and scanned the one large room that served as her and Joseph’s bedroom and living area with disbelieving and troubled eyes.

‘There are some pretty mean, low-down swines around, aren’t there?’

Estelle swallowed, aware of the hard, disgusted tone of Hunter’s voice as he stood beside her and surveyed the scene. She tried to reply but she couldn’t. Her eyes saw, but her mind didn’t want to register the mess and destruction that was facing her right at this moment.

‘Are you feeling OK?’

She heard Hunter’s deep voice and turned towards him, not aware of what he had said to her, not aware of anything at that moment except the agonising feeling of dreadful despair and desolation, the feeling of utter hopelessness that was so sharp and so strong.

‘Hey...’ He paused and gently twisted her towards him. ‘Look, I don’t even know your name. What is it?’

She felt his hands touch her shoulders, was aware of their strength and steadying firmness. ‘Estelle Rogers.’ It was a whispered reply. Her lips hardly moved. She stared blankly across at a wall where vivid slashes of red paint had been daubed in an incomprehensible mess.

‘Look, I’m going to call the police,’ he informed her briskly. ‘You haven’t a phone in here, have you, by any chance? No, I thought not,’ he added when she vaguely shook her head. ‘Now just stay where you are and don’t touch anything.’

‘But where are you going? Please, I...I don’t want...’ Estelle blurted unsteadily, her eyes widening with alarm as Hunter moved towards the door.

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied swiftly. ‘I won’t be more than a minute or so. I’m going to use the phone in my car.’

She hardly moved a muscle. Her back ached with carrying Joseph for so long. Her throat ached from trying not to cry, her head was thumping violently with shock or tension or just plain weariness and misery, but she didn’t dare sit down, didn’t even want to so much as look at the scattered belongings and ruined objects that lay all around her.

‘How could anyone do this?’ she asked helplessly as Hunter reappeared through the doorway. ‘I’ve got so little, nothing of any real value.’ She shook her head and threw him an agonised look. ‘I...I just don’t understand.’

That makes two of us,’ he replied grimly. ’God! It really is one hell of a mess, isn’t it?’ His hard jawline tightened as his eyes swept over the scene. ‘’Well, the police will be here shortly. But until then all we can do is sit and wait.’

The shock was subsiding a little now. Estelle struggled to get her mind functioning again. ‘There’s no need for you to stay with me,’ she murmured quietly. ‘I mean, this has nothing to do with you... God. I’m sure you have more important things to see to...’ Her wide green eyes slid away from his face. Please! she cried silently. Please, please don’t leave me here alone like this! ‘I’ll be all right,’ she added, raising her head again to stare determinedly into his face. ‘I’m perfectly capable of—’

‘Stop trying so hard to convince yourself!’ Hunter ordered bluntly. ‘I’m not going anywhere until the police arrive. Now, you look absolutely worn out so let’s get this thing upright.’ He moved over to the far side of the room, to the corner where Joseph’s cot was kept, and picked it up in one swift movement. ‘Then you can at least be relieved of some of your excess weight.’ He moved towards Estelle and cast intrigued eyes over the baby sling. ‘So how do you get this thing off?’

‘I’m all right, honestly!’ Estelle tried to twist away from Hunter’s enquiring hands, but he was far too swift for her.

‘You’re absolutely exhausted,’ he said patiently. ‘Now stop arguing and let me help you.’

She didn’t have the energy to make a fight of it. Besides, he was right—she was worn out with carrying Joseph for so long. ‘There’s...a tie at the back and a clip,’ Estelle murmured, acutely aware of his touch as his hands roamed over the fasteners at her back. ‘But the cot—is it OK?’ she asked, glancing worriedly over to the corner of the room, automatically calculating the extortionate cost of a new one should it prove to be beyond repair. ‘Did...did they do anything to it?’

‘Don’t panic. It’s fine. Now, are you ready to take the weight? I’m going to untie this thing.’

Estelle placed Joseph, still thankfully fast asleep and totally unaware of the awful atmosphere that surrounded him, in the cot. She stared down at the huddled form as she placed a blanket over him and felt the sting of tears filling her eyes. What a world, she thought miserably. Such a start for you, my poor, poor baby. Motherless at three months, brought up by an aunt who hasn’t a clue, hasn’t the means or the intelligence to make things better for you...

She was crying and she really had promised herself she wouldn’t. Annoyed by her lack of strength, she spun away, kicking some books and clothes that had been ripped up and thrown on to the floor out of her way in a gesture that revealed all of her anger, frustration and helplessness.

‘Don’t, Estelle.’ Hunter was beside her in an instant, his voice more gentle than she ever would have believed. ‘Don’t upset yourself. Everything will be all right.’

Estelle covered her face with her hands and squeezed her eyes tight shut, fighting against the tears. ‘No, it won’t,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘Just look at this place!’ She opened her eyes and stared anywhere except at Hunter’s face, her gaze finally coming to rest on the corner where her canvases and easel had at one time been neatly stacked. She rubbed her wet face with the back of her hand and sniffed hard. ‘Just look at what they’ve done.’ She walked over and picked up a brutally torn painting, one that she had been working on for weeks, one that she had hoped to be proud of before too long. ‘Oh, God! Why is everything so hard?’ she murmured quietly, turning blindly away. ‘Why can’t I cope?’

And then Hunter’s arms were there, around her shoulders, drawing her towards him, pressing her close against the fine woollen cloth of his suit. He held her tightly, stroking the tumbling locks of bronze-coloured hair, saying nothing, just holding her so that Estelle, her body stiff with misery at first, gradually found herself relaxing against the rugged, solid strength of him, tentatively resting her head against his broad chest, sobbing over and over, allowing, for the first time in weeks, the release of all the grief and tiredness and tension that had built up since she had first heard of Connie’s death, since she had first shouldered the responsibility of bringing Joseph up alone.

‘No more tears now.’ His voice, sounding strangely sympathetic, shocked her back to reality. With a jerk Estelle lifted her head, wiping hastily at her wet face, embarrassed and uneasy because of his close, close proximity, because she was aware of the fact that, in that brief moment of being held, everything had felt a hundred times better, when in reality of course it was all a hundred times worse, more complicated, more confusing because Hunter was here, treating her like a human being, and Joseph, his son, was lying asleep only six feet away from him. ‘I’ve made your suit wet. Sorry about that.’ She tried to smile and failed miserably, sliding her eyes from his face, biting down hard on her trembling bottom lip. ‘I...I don’t know what came over me. The shock, I suppose.’

‘You look very tired.’ His dark eyes studied her face impassively. ‘It can’t be easy bringing up a baby alone. You are alone, I presume?’ he added smoothly, not releasing her as she had expected but tilting her chin with one long finger, looking down at her with that all-seeing piercing black gaze. ‘There’s no husband or boyfriend around to help?’

’N-no. Just me.’ Estelle risked a wary look. ‘I’m OK,’ she added swiftly; ‘’I manage fine. I know this place isn’t much to look at. I know this area’s rough and tatty but—’

‘Stop trying so hard, Estelle,’ Hunter murmured steadily, stroking a strand of hair back from the side of her face, allowing his hand to rest lightly on the wayward curls that tumbled in a glossy mass to Estelle’s shoulders. ‘You’re very young. How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen? To have so much responsibility at your age,’ Hunter continued after Estelle nodded silently, ‘can’t be easy.’

‘I...I manage.’ Her voice was barely a whisper. For some reason she couldn’t think straight. She knew she shouldn’t be this close, allowing him to talk to her like this, to touch her with hands that were so manly, with their covering of dark, dark hair and strong fingers, but she didn’t seem able to take control, to pull away as she surely knew she should. ‘I...I never thought it would be easy,’ she murmured breathlessly, gazing helplessly up into the dark, angled features.

‘No, of course you didn’t.’ His voice was suddenly husky. Low and soft, glistening with sudden, open sensuality.

Maybe if Estelle had been experienced, if she had known just a little about men, about herself and the effect her wide, appealing eyes and sweet, open expression could have on the opposite sex, she might have been prepared, might have guessed the intention in Hunter’s eyes. But men, real men had never been a part of her life; she had simply never before been in contact with someone even remotely as devastating as Hunter, even remotely as dangerous. All the members of the opposite sex she had ever known had been the usual spotty, awkward youths at school and then college—to compare them to someone like Hunter was about as intelligent as comparing a kitten with a tiger.

So it wasn’t until his head lowered towards hers, it wasn’t until his arms fell from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her close towards his firmly muscled body, that she realised what was happening.

But by then of course it was too late—far too late.

His mouth covered her lips in one swift movement and in that sharp, totally illuminating second she understood the true meaning of sexual chemistry, found herself acquainted with a sharp urgent twist of pure unexpected desire as, shockingly, she allowed him to drag her closer still, allowed his lips to move slowly over her mouth as he plundered the soft interior with a command and ease that took her breath away. Three or four slow seconds of exquisite torture, her mind screaming wildly at her, while her heart hammered in her chest and her body became yielding and supple under the absolute command of his touch, the thrill of his slow, erotic kiss.

When he finally released her and the madness ended as swiftly as it had begun, she was shaking like a leaf, staring up into the angled face with an expression that portrayed every ounce of her confusion and shock.

‘I never knew I had a weakness for such sweet, childlike vulnerability,’ he murmured huskily.

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ Estelle’s eyes were bleak as the realisation of what she had allowed to happen dawned on her. She stared up into the stunning, unrepentant face and forced herself to feel cold, chilling dislike for a man who could take such ruthless advantage.

‘Why not?’ His tone held not one shred of remorse. ‘I thought it might make you feel better. Concentrate your mind on other things.’ The dark eyes glittered amusement. ‘And I can see it’s worked—you look quite different now. Shocked, angry, almost fierce. Now don’t spoil everything, Estelle.’ His hand had snaked forward, grasped her raised arm in one smooth movement. ‘You’ve been watching too many films. Slapping my face after such a mutually enjoyable exprience isn’t really appropriate, is it?’

Estelle jerked away from the circle of his arms and mercifully found her grip released. ‘I know what’s appropriate!’ she retorted tightly. ‘I don’t need some sort of...of patronising lecture from you! And...and how dare you kiss me like that?’ she added heatedly, spinning around to pierce him again with angry eyes. ‘You took advantage of me. What sort of a man are you?’ she cried. ‘No, don’t bother telling me! I know the answer to that question,’ she added bitterly. ‘I should know,’ she repeated half to herself. ‘Hell, yes, I should know that only too well!’

‘Estelle?’ Hunter drawled. ‘Don’t you think you are over-reacting just a little? If I didn’t know better, I’d have to come to the conclusion that you’ve never been kissed before. Not true, of course, because there’s evidence in this room not more than a couple of feet away from us which makes that impossible—’

‘Leave Joseph out of this!’ Estelle breathed, following the line of his gaze. ‘Just leave us both! Now! I don’t want you here.’

‘Well, you’ve got me, whether you like it or not!’ Hunter’s voice was back to being steel-edged. He moved towards the door, every movement smoothly controlled as usual, despite his evident return back to ill temper. ‘I’ll find out what’s keeping the police,’ he informed her in clipped tones. ‘We’ve waited here long enough.’

They finally arrived, two young constables, asking the usual questions, examining the usual things, leaving Estelle with very little to comfort her at all.

‘Do you think they’ll catch them?’

Hunter shrugged indifferently. He had been prowling around the room while the police did their work, not interfering, but making Estelle and, she suspected, both the young police constables edgy, and he was still doing it. ‘Don’t hold your breath. This sort of mindless break-in happens almost every night, I should imagine.’

‘What should I do about the door?’ Estelle asked worriedly. ‘It’s late. Will anyone come to mend it at this hour?’

‘I’ve seen to it.’ He sounded bored, as if it were a matter too trivial to mention. ‘I phoned a very reliable handyman I know just after I contacted the police. He should be here in a few minutes; his wife said he would be back home at around eleven and it’s after that now.’

‘Will he need paying tonight?’ Estelle tried not to allow the worry of money to intrude in her voice. ‘I mean,’ she added carefully, ‘I have no cash on me. Tomorrow when the banks are open...’ Who are you kidding? she thought. You haven’t had a penny in your bank account for months! Why don’t you just be honest and say you’re absolutely broke?

‘Don’t worry about that now. You can settle up another time,’ Hunter replied briskly, still continuing with his infuriating pacing. ‘Besides, the insurance will cover that, as well as pay for the cost of replacing all your possessions. As I said—everything will be all right.’

Estelle bent silently and picked up a cushion; its feathers spilled out from the tear that had been caused by a knife or some equally disgusting implement and she threw it down in an angry gesture.

‘Estelle, the insurance will pay for it!’ She heard the footsteps on the bare boards halt, was aware of the suspicious note in his voice. ‘Look at me and tell me you did bother to take out insurance for all of your things,’ he demanded suddenly.

‘You’d better go.’ Estelle heaved a deep breath and forced herself to face him. ‘I can clear up by myself, see to the man when he arrives. Go.’ She glared at him with an expression that spoke volumes. ‘I don’t want you standing there, telling me how stupid I’ve been. Don’t you think I can see that now? So just go! Leave me alone! I’ll manage somehow.’

‘Manage?’ Every syllable dripped derision. ‘Who are you kidding? No possessions, no insurance, very little money, I should imagine. For God’s sake!’ He glared at her fiercely. ‘What an absolutely idiotic thing you are! A pound or two a week, less than that,’ he amended, casting clearly scathing eyes around the room, ‘and you could have had all this damage covered. You’re reasonably intelligent, aren’t you? Why the hell take the risk?’