Seduced By The Enemy

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Copyright

“You are a very beautiful

woman, Helena, and I’d

very much like to make

love to you.”

Helena swallowed hard and tried to find her voice, but it seemed to have deserted her.

Tate’s hand moved from her throat, down over the smooth bareness of her shoulder. “Do you hear me, Helena? I want you…I know you want me.” He moved closer; she could feel his breath against her heated skin. “Tell me you want me…”

“I…” She tried to deny him…she tried desperately to speak…but her voice wouldn’t function. Her heart felt like a wild caged creature inside her as his lips came closer to hers. She moistened their dryness, heat and sudden longing sweeping through her in a wild, sweet rush. “Yes.” She breathed the word into the tropical heat of the night; it was just a whisper of intense longing. “Yes…”

KATHRYN ROSS

was born in Zambia where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, Designed With Love was accepted by Harlequin®. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.

Seduced By The Enemy

Kathryn Ross

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

STEPPING off the plane into the hot shimmering sunshine of Barbados was like stepping from a black and white photograph back into colour. Drab grey London felt like another planet away.

Helena felt a tug on her heartstrings. She loved this island, she was relieved to be home…and yet there was a murmur of disquiet as she remembered how she had felt when she had flown out of here five years ago.

Briskly she tried to dismiss the shadows of remembrance and headed off to collect her luggage. The past was forgotten; all that mattered now was sorting out her father’s problems.

She could still hardly believe that her father had managed to get himself into such a financial mess. Lawrence Beaumont had always been a very shrewd businessman. Helena’s heart thudded nervously as she remembered the phone call from Paul last week. It had been that call which had panicked Helena into booking the first available flight home. She had never heard her brother so worried—he was usually so calm, so laid-back.

She picked up her suitcase and headed quickly for Immigration. The formalities didn’t take long, and once through the barriers she scoured the crowds anxiously, looking for her brother’s friendly smiling face. There was no sign of him anywhere. She frowned and glanced at her watch. He was late—not a fact that should have surprised her when she thought about it.

Her eyes searched around the airport again, and it was then that she noticed a familiar figure striding confidently through the crowds. Her heart lurched with surprise. The figure was tall and undeniably handsome—she recognised Tate Ainsley immediately.

He was wearing a tropically light business suit, which looked expensive and very stylish on his broadshouldered frame. His hair was still jet-dark, despite the fact that he must be in his late thirties now.

What on earth was he doing here? she wondered frantically. It was six years ago now since her father had married Tate’s sister Vivian. While Helena liked Vivian…Tate was an entirely different proposition. She had always felt uneasy around the man, and if what her brother had told her on the phone was true then her mistrust of him was well-founded.

Her apprehension soared as he looked around and then started to move in her direction. There was no doubt that he was walking towards her as vivid blue eyes the colour of the Caribbean Sea sliced directly into hers. ‘Hello, Helena.’ His voice, deep and attractive, made a few women nearby glance over at him with interest.

‘Tate! I’m surprised to see you here.’ Her voice was slightly strained as she strove to be coolly polite.

‘Not half as surprised as I was to hear you were coming home.’ His eyes flickered briefly over her long dark hair which was pulled severely back from her creamy skin, emphasising the lovely bone structure of her face and the striking green eyes.

So he had heard that she was coming home! It was surprising how news travelled so quickly on this island; she had only faxed her father a couple of days ago with the news. She wondered how many other people knew she was here…she wondered if Cass knew…

Immediately the thought flickered into her mind she swept it aside angrily. She didn’t want to think about him…if she started to think about him she might run back through the doors behind her straight onto the first available plane to London.

‘How long are you here for?’ Tate asked now.

She shrugged, unwilling to divulge anything much to this man until she found out the exact circumstances at home. ‘Long enough to be of some help to my father.’ She fixed him with a rather pointed look. ‘I gather there have been a few problems at home?’

‘A few problems’ was putting it mildly. Paul had been beside himself with fear when they had spoken. Apparently bad investments.. bad management…had put the Beaumont estate in a state of near ruin. And according to Paul it was all this man’s fault.

If it was Tate’s fault he certainly didn’t look worried. He just grinned. ‘Nothing we can’t handle.’

Anger bristled through her at the arrogance of such an answer. Paul had told her in no uncertain terms that the situation was serious. Obviously Tate didn’t want her to realise this…it was probably m his best interests to keep a cool faade.

‘Well, I suppose the figures will speak for themselves, won’t they, Tate?’ Her tone was brisk and businesslike. Let him stew on that, she thought, with a gleam of satisfaction. She was nobody’s fool, and she wasn’t going to be palmed off with glib comments.

‘I suppose they will.’ He sounded most unconcerned, as if he found her frostiness merely amusing. His lips twisted in a half-smile that lit up his rugged features.

He was too attractive, she thought warily. Of course, he was not her type. There was a ruthless look about him—a light of harsh determination in his sea-blue eyes. It wasn’t hard to remember who his ancestors had been…what they had been. Her gaze fell on the jagged scar that ran down the side of his face and she shivered involuntarily.

‘Well, it’s been nice bumping into you, Tate, but I really must dash.’ She glanced pointedly at her watch. What she wanted was to get home—the sooner she found out exactly what was going on, the sooner she could start to take Tate Ainsley down a peg or two. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone—’

‘I know.’ His smile widened even further. ‘That someone is me.’

She frowned, totally perplexed. ‘But Paul promised to pick me up from the airport—’

‘Paul couldn’t make it. Your father asked me to come.’

‘I see.’ This piece of news totally astounded Helena. She had thought Paul would be here come hell or high water.

‘Well, it’s really very kind of you to put yourself out like this.’ She didn’t know what else to say—she was totally confused by this turn of events. Paul had told her that Tate Ainsley was the enemy, that he was out to ruin their father, so why was he allowing the man to pick her up like this? Why wasn’t he here, filling her in on events?

‘It’s my pleasure.’ His voice echoed the dry amusement in his eyes. ‘After all, we are practically family’

‘Hardly,’ Helena muttered swiftly. Was that the angle Tate was playing with her father? she wondered grimly. Was he giving him dodgy financial advice under the guise of being a concerned member of the family?

Helena found it hard to believe that her father could have been so naive as to be taken in by such sentiments. In the past Lawrence had always treated Tate with suspicion. Yet the fact that he had asked Tate to pick her up pointed towards how friendly he must now be with the man. It was all very puzzling.

‘So where is Paul anyway?’ There was a hint of brisk annoyance in her tone that she tried very hard to disguise.

Tate shrugged. ‘No idea…Probably with some blonde bombshell, if I know your brother.’

Helena glared at him, her green eyes glimmering deep emerald. Much as she had to admit deep down that this could very well be true, she was far too loyal to let it pass without standing up for her young brother.

‘It’s five years since I’ve seen Paul—I’m sure he would have been here if it was at all possible.’

‘If you say so.’ Tate picked up her bag, his attitude one of insouciant unconcern.

He headed for the exit, and Helena followed him with a feeling of reluctance. Just what was going on? she wondered nervously. Where on earth was her brother?

Paul was not renowned for being reliable. He was a tennis coach with a lot of skill, and he was also something of a ladies’ man. If a pretty young girl fluttered her eyelashes at him he was capable of forgetting what day it was, let alone that his sister was waiting to be picked up. Yet she didn’t think that was the reason why he hadn’t turned up today. His tone had been far too serious when they had spoken on the phone.

He had been the one who had insisted that he collect her when she had mentioned getting a taxi. He had said that he wanted to talk with her before she saw their father, that there were a lot of facts he wanted to arm her with first. What were the facts? she wondered for the millionth time. Apprehension knotted tight in her stomach.

The sunshine was blinding outside, the heat overwhelming. Tate led the way with long strides to where a very expensive Mercedes convertible was illegally parked on double yellow lines.

Helena’s mouth set in a firm line as she noticed this fact. Was Tate a man with little regard for authority? Did he think that because he was wealthy and powerful he was above the law?

‘You’re lucky you didn’t get a ticket,’ she said grimly as he opened the boot of the car and put her case in.

‘They allow you a few minutes to pick up from here, and your flight was exactly on time.’

‘In London you would have been clamped.’

He grimaced. ‘It’s no wonder you look stressed…living in London must be hell.’

He said the words with a teasing light in his eyes, and despite herself she had to smile.

‘Welcome home to sunny, laid-back Barbados.’ He reached out a hand and touched the smooth curve of her cheek in a gesture that made an instant flow of angry reaction flow through her body. ‘Is it really five years since you left?’

With complete disregard for the fact that her expression was now one of extreme displeasure, his gaze moved over her in a more leisurely appraisal. He took in the slender curves of her body, the classically elegant blue suit.

‘You’ve certainly changed,’ he murmured contemplatively. ‘What happened to the young skinny schoolgirl who left?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped with agitated impatience. ‘I was nineteen when I left—hardly a schoolgirl.’

He shrugged. ‘You’ve grown up, though…London has given you a very sophisticated air.’

It was true that London had given her a certain polish. The naïve and fresh-faced young woman who had left Barbados had blossomed into a successful career woman.

‘What do you do for a living these days?’ he asked nonchalantly as he opened the car door for her.

‘I’m a financial adviser with a leading bank.’ She met his blue gaze directly, trying to see if there was a flicker of unease in them. ‘I go through people’s accounts, and if there are any discrepancies, any problems, I always find them.’

She spoke the words succinctly—she wanted this man to know that she was a professional and damned good at her job. She wanted to wipe the look of complacency from those handsome features.

‘Really?’ He didn’t look in the slightest bit perturbed—in fact, he looked vaguely amused.

‘Have I said something funny?’ She frowned with annoyance.

‘Not at all.’ He watched as she settled herself in the comfortable leather seat, his gaze flicking briefly over her long legs. ‘It’s just that you don’t look like any financial adviser I’ve ever met!’ He closed the door on her before she had a chance to reply to that.

She watched in brooding silence as he walked around towards the driver’s side of the car. That was the kind of chauvinistic remark she would have expected from Tate Ainsley. He was a tough kind of man…a man’s man, with a hard edge. In those respects he was probably a bit like her father—Lawrence also was the type who thought that women had no place in the world of finance.

‘So what exactly is it that brings you back to Barbados?’ Tate enquired casually as he got into the seat next to her and started up the engine.

Helena hesitated. She didn’t know what this man was up to, and until she did she needed to choose her words carefully. ‘I was overdue for a visit,’ she answered simply. ‘And when Paul mentioned my father’s money problems I thought it was best if I came right away.’

‘So Paul’s been filling you in, has he?’ There was a note of mockery in Tate’s voice now that didn’t escape Helena’s attention. Before she could say anything, however, Tate went on more seriously, ‘Has he told you that Lawrence hasn’t been well?’

Helena’s heart skipped a beat anxiously. ‘No…no, he hasn’t.’ She shot a worried look at him. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Tate said soothingly. ‘He’s just tired and a bit stressed out.’

‘About what, exactly?’ Helena demanded, a hard edge to her tone. By the sounds of things she hadn’t returned a moment too soon. Why hadn’t Paul mentioned anything about her father’s health?

‘Just overwork,’ Tate said lightly. ‘Vivian asked me to warn you. She’s anxious that nobody upsets him in any way.’

Helena frowned. ‘I certainly have no intention of upsetting my father.’ Her voice rose sharply. Who did this man think he was anyway?

‘No, of course not.’ Tate’s voice was calm. ‘It’s just that he’s very touchy at the moment. You know Lawrence—can’t stand for anyone to tell him he’s over-doing things, He flew off the handle when the doctor suggested that he should take a vacation. And I believe he had words with Paul last week over something and nothing.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard about that.’ Helena was quick to intercede. She wanted Tate to know that she was well aware of why Paul and her father had had words.

Something and nothing, indeed! Her brother had told her exactly what had happened, and the argument had all been due to Tate. Apparently Paul had told his father straight that Tate was leading him financially astray, and to Paul’s astonishment Lawrence had taken extreme exception to the remarks.

‘I don’t think it was over something trivial, though.’ Helena turned accusing eyes towards Tate. ‘I rather thought that it was over the fact that Pop has been taking some bad advice.’

Tate slanted a glance towards her, but instead of looking worried he merely shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue what they argued about. But, as I said, your father is suffering from the effects of stress and overwork. I’ve been trying to take some of the strain off him by sending over one of my secretaries to give him a hand.’ He shook his head. ‘But Lawrence is a stubborn fellow who doesn’t easily accept help.’

Helena was startled by this statement. Tate sounded as if he was genuinely concerned about her father. His words certainly didn’t sound like those of a man who would deliberately give misleading advice to wreck her father’s finances. But then Tate was probably a very cunning man, she reminded herself sharply.

She ran contemplative green eyes over the man beside her. She knew that Tate was ambitious and determined, and that he had a reputation for being a hard-headed businessman. According to Paul, Tate had been phenomenally successful in the five years since she had been away, but due to over-extending himself with over-ambitious plans he was suffering severe financial losses…losses he was making up by duping her father.

‘Well, it’s just as well I’ve come home,’ she answered him coolly. ‘I’m very experienced with financial problems. I’ll be able to help out—go through Pop’s accounts with a fine-tooth comb.’

‘I’m sure Lawrence will be very relieved.’

She glanced across and met his blue eyes head-on; there was a laughing gleam in them that made her temper rise sharply. ‘I can assure you that if there are any problems…any discrepancies in my father’s accounts, I will be able to find them,’ she told him in no uncertain tone.

‘Oh, I’m sure you will.’ He shook his head, the amusement on his handsome features not dying for a moment. ‘It’s just that knowing Lawrence as I do, I’m sure you’ll have your work cut out getting him to even open his accounts for you.’

Her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. So now she knew why Tate was so unconcerned by her comments. He was aware of her father’s outlook on women in the workplace and was obviously banking on the fact that she would get nowhere near her father’s books.

‘Oh, he’ll open them for me.’ Somehow she managed to inject far more confidence into her tone than she was feeling.

‘Lawrence will be disappointed when you start trying to talk business with him,’ Tate reflected as he turned the car down quiet country lanes, through rolling green countryside. ‘He’s under the impression that you’re coming home to tell him that you’re getting married.’

Her eyes widened in complete astonishment at that statement. She hadn’t told her father the real reason for this visit for the simple reason that she knew it would have annoyed him. Lawrence was a proud man, and he would have been severely embarrassed if he’d thought that Helena was coming home because Paul had told her that he was in a financial mess. But why he should think that she was getting married completely baffled her.

‘What on earth has given him that idea?’ she murmured, with a perplexed shake of her head.

‘Might have something to do with the fact that you haven’t visited in five years and now you are suddenly descending out of the blue with very little warning.’

Helena frowned. Was it her imagination, or was there a note of censure in his tone? ‘I haven’t been home because I haven’t been able to get sufficient time off work,’ she said stiffly. This wasn’t true, but she was damned if she was going to start delving into her personal life to answer his nosy questions.

‘So your reasons for not coming home before now are nothing to do with Cass?’

The outrageously personal question took her breath away. ‘Certainly not!’ It was appalling how the mere mention of Cass’s name could send a sharp frisson of electricity through her body. That man had hurt her so much that it was painful just to think of him. ‘I—I don’t even know what you mean by that statement,’ she muttered nervously.

He laughed at that. ‘Come on, Helena, I saw you crying your eyes out over him…remember?’

Helena’s heart thudded wildly at the reminder of such a distressing moment. With difficulty she closed her mind on the memory and summoned an air of indifference. ‘That’s all a very long time ago. I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned it.’

‘Oh, I see.’ The amusement in his tone very nearly threatened to snap her composure. At that moment she would dearly have loved to tell him to go to hell.

‘So is there someone else?’ he continued on casually.

With great difficulty she refrained from telling him to mind his own business. ‘I’m not coming home to tell Pop that I’m getting married,’ she said stiffly. ‘Does that answer your question?’

‘Not really.’ He grinned. ‘But it will do for now.’

He turned the car through the gateway to her home, distracting her thoughts. Her eyes moved eagerly over the fields of sugar cane shimmering in the heat of the sun. She had dreamt of this moment for five long years. This was the place dearest to her heart, the place where she had grown up. She had missed it terribly.

When the large plantation house came into sight through the tall palm trees, she felt like crying for a moment. Memories of childhood stirred deep inside— memories of her mother, of happy days.

‘Glad to be back?’

Tate’s voice made her try to pull her emotions tightly m check. She nodded. ‘And relieved that it looks just the same as I remembered it.’

Tate pursed his lips. ‘Nothing stays the same forever.’

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that. ‘This house has remained relatively unchanged for generations.’

‘That’s not strictly true. Beaumont House used to receive all its income from sugar—jut as the Ainsley estate did. Now the sugar trade has declined and the plantations have turned towards other investments.’

‘I hardly need a lesson in the economy of the island, Tate,’ she told him crisply. ‘I’m well aware that the sugar trade has declined.’

‘Then you know that there have been big changes on estates like Beaumont,’ he pointed out calmly.

‘I know my father has diversified—he did that a long time ago.’ She looked at him sharply. Was he making excuses? Was he trying to tell her that her father’s problems were down to the economic climate, not to mishandling? He was cool, she had to give him that. Just what game was Tate Ainsley playing? she wondered cautiously.

‘Up until now he has done very well from his investments,’ she continued succinctly. ‘I sincerely hope that he hasn’t changed his business tactics.’ She couldn’t resist the dig. She knew damn well that her father had changed his tactics to suit Tate…with disastrous consequences. Let him try and explain himself out of that.

Tate merely laughed. ‘There speaks a true banker. “Play it safe” being the banking war cry. Let me tell you that remaining static in this economic climate is like trying to tread water in a hurricane. You have to move boldly forward with the times if you want success.’

Green eyes collided directly with his deep blue gaze. She didn’t care for his mocking tone. ‘Bold’ was a word that seemed to sit well on Tate Ainsley’s shoulders. She was willing to bet that he took some very unorthodox risks in business. ‘You can only move boldly forward if you have the means and the safety nets in place to do so,’ she told him pointedly.

He smiled at that. ‘Well, you would say that. I rest my case—you’re a member of the “play it safe” brigade.’

‘And what way do you play, Tate?’ she asked directly, an edge of incrimination in her tone.

‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night and we can discuss strategy if you like,’ he offered casually, completely unruffled by her tone.

The invitation caught her off balance, as did the gleam of taunting mirth in his deep eyes. Was he deliberately baiting her? she wondered with annoyance, because he seemed to be enjoying putting her on the spot.

‘I don’t think there would be much point in us discussing business strategy,’ she told him calmly. ‘Comparing your ideas and mine would be like comparing a fox’s idea of how to survive the winter with a squirrel’s.’