Belle was out by the garages up by the big house, dressed ready for a trip to the stables and waiting for Milly and Beezer, who was driving them, to show up. What she wasn’t expecting – or hoping for – was that Harlan should pitch up instead.
She’d been standing by the big Merc in the garage and the instant she saw Harlan coming into the garage she pushed away from the car and watched him nervously. There was only a small corridor’s width between the car and the end wall, and Harlan was walking toward her, cutting off her exit.
God, she was sick of this.
Ever since she was little, Harlan had been a pest to her. Now they were getting older, growing up, it was getting worse, taking on distinct sexual overtones. She avoided him whenever she could. But when their paths did happen to cross, he never seemed to miss a chance to brush up against her or corral her in a corner like he was doing now.
‘Hi, Belle,’ he said, stopping in front of her, his eyes crawling over her lower half, which was clad in tight jodhpurs. ‘Off riding then?’
‘No, taking dancing lessons,’ snapped back Belle.
‘Funny,’ he said.
‘I’m waiting for Milly and Beezer.’ She flicked a look at her watch. ‘They’ll be right here, any minute.’
‘Right.’ Harlan moved in closer. Belle took a hasty step back, very aware that she was trapped here. She couldn’t go around the car at the front, it was tight up to the garage wall. Her only possible exit was through Harlan. And he knew it. ‘Time for us to have a cosy little chat then,’ he said.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Belle coolly.
‘Oh come on, Belle. You know you want to.’
‘Fuck off, Harlan,’ she said.
Harlan stepped closer still. He was so close now that she could feel his breath on her face.
Creep, she thought.
‘You should be nicer to me, you know,’ he said, coming closer still.
Belle stepped back again. She was nearly up against the end wall of the garage. Nowhere to go.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because one day all this is going to be mine. You do realize that, don’t you. Not dopey little Milly’s. Mine. And that means it could be yours, too. If you play your cards right.’
‘I don’t want any part of it, Harlan. Or of you.’
‘You’re just fighting it,’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I know we got something special going on, you and me.’
To her horror, he put a hand on her left breast, over her heart. She gave a start and pulled back, but her back hit the garage wall and Harlan was on her in an instant, fumbling at her tit again, pinching her nipple, hurting her.
Belle didn’t even think about it. She shot out a knee, catching him square in the groin. Harlan doubled over, falling against her, nearly pulling her over.
‘What’s going on?’ said a male voice at the front of the garage.
It was Dad.
Belle shoved past the bent-double Harlan and ran to where her father stood. Her heart was nearly exploding out of her chest, she was so panicked. Harlan turned toward the pair of them, seeing Terry there holding Belle, who was white-faced with fear. Still clutching his balls, Harlan gave a teary-eyed smirk.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all.’
Terry looked at Belle. ‘What happened, honey?’ he asked.
Belle shook her head, wondering what the hell would have occurred had her dad not come along. All she wanted was to get out, away from Harlan.
Then Harlan said it; the words that Terry would never forget.
‘What you gonna do about anything? I’m Harlan Stone, and what are you, Terry bloody Barton? You’re just the help.’
Terry disengaged Belle’s clinging arms and gave her a push toward the door.
‘Go down and wait for Beezer by the gate. I’ll tell him you’re there, OK?’ Then he turned back to Harlan. His eyes were flinty with rage. ‘We’re going to have a talk.’