Desire Unbidden

By Benita Brown

Young, beautiful and talented, Heather Kerr has found success quickly as a television presenter. She is about to make it into the 'National' big time when an illness to her friend and TV director, Alec Seaton, changes her life dramatically. Luke Barron, a high-flying freelance programme maker, is brought in to take over and, perhaps promote the programme to the National network
Heather is forced to fight against Luke's unjustly cynical opinion of her in order to win professional recognition - the problem is, she finds she also has to fight against her own overpowering feelings for this devastatingly handsome and complex man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Benita Brown
• Release date: Feb 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476381213

Benita Brown

Benita Brown was born and brought up in Newcastle upon Tyne in the North East of England by her English mother and Indian father. She went to drama school in London where she met her future husband who, also from Newcastle, was working for the BBC. Not long after, the couple returned to their home town. After working as a teacher and broadcaster and bringing up four chidren, Benita became a full-time writer.

Book preview

Desire Unbidden

By

Benita Brown writing as Clare Benedict

Copyright © 2012 by Benita Brown

All rights reserved

All moral rights of the author have been asserted

www.benitabrown.com

Published by Benita Brown at Smashwords 2012

Table of contents

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Books by Benita Brown published by Headline

A Dream of Her Own

All Our Tomorrows

Her Rightful Inheritance

In Love and Friendship

The Captains Daughters

A Safe Harbour

Fortune’s Daughter

The Dressmaker

The Promise

Starlight and Dreams

Memories of You

I’ll Be Seeing You

Writing as Clare Benedict. Published by Scarlet

A Bitter Inheritance

A Dark Legacy

Sophie’s Wedding

Writing as Clare Benedict. Published by Robert Hale

Tempestuous Shore

Desire Unbidden

Dark Fugitive

The Brides of Eden

Acclaim for Benita Brown’s novels

‘A wonderfully evocative tale’ Lancashire Evening Post.

‘A story of hope and determination…a really good read’ Historical Novels Review.

‘A romantic tale of rivalry and deceit’ Newcastle Journal.

‘Real heroines, genuine heartache…what more could you want?’ Northern Echo.

‘You won’t be able to put it down’ Yours Magazine.

‘A delightfully interwoven story of passion, love and loss’ Sunderland Echo.

Chapter one

Oh no! Heather groaned inwardly as she saw the line of traffic cones stretching northwards. She had left Newcastle shortly after eight o’clock, which should have given her plenty of time to drive to Alnwick and meet the rest of the film crew at nine, but she had not been prepared for roadwork’s and one lane traffic.

Heather willed the temporary lights to remain green until she got through. The road was still wet from the early morning downpour and she frowned as the lorry in front of her threw up muddy surface water across her windscreen. Then, as she reached for the windscreen washer lever, she had a blurred image of the lights changing from green to red. With a final burst of spray, the lorry accelerated and went through on red.

Heather gritted her teeth in irritation and, easing back on the accelerator, braked to a halt. She glanced at the dashboard clock. Twenty to nine. She relaxed a little. She was already north of Morpeth and if there were no more hold ups, she might just make it. She had never been late for a shoot yet. One of the reasons that producer Alec Seaton had chosen her to be the presenter of his television series, in the first place, was that she had a reputation for reliability.

She frowned momentarily as she thought of Alec. It was no secret that he had not been well lately and she did not want to do anything that might add to the stress of his demanding job.

At least she was ready to start filming the moment she arrived. She checked her appearance in the rear view mirror. Mike, the cameraman had told her that she always looked good on camera whatever she wore.

This morning, because a light wind was forecast, she had secured her long blonde curls at the nape of her neck with a midnight blue velvet bow. The blue of the bow matched her fine, pure wool skirt. Her silk shirt was a lighter blue to highlight her eyes and the outfit was completed with a well-cut tweed jacket of blue and tan. She had applied her usual street make-up as this would be adequate for today’s outdoor camera work.

I’ll do, she grinned to herself. In fact Heather had no idea how stunningly attractive she was. Mike was right that she always looked good on camera – she was supremely photogenic – but on or off camera there was a quality about Heather that always turned men’s heads.

Her large, blue eyes, fringed with thick lashes just one shade darker blonde than her hair, gazed out candidly from under delicately curved brows. Her nose was small and straight and her lips, full and sensuous. She was taller than average and slim but full-breasted. Her tiny waist and long, shapely legs added a sensuous appeal to her, otherwise, classic beauty.

The fact that she was completely unaware of her effect on men, only added to her appeal. The crew often joked that, no matter what the programme was about, Heather would push the ratings up just by being on the screen.

She glanced anxiously into the sky. The rain had stopped and the weak sunshine showed promising signs of becoming stronger. At least the weather seemed to be in her favour.

On either side of the Al, the shadows of clouds chased across endless miles of open countryside. Heather smiled as she watched a flock of raucous sea gulls following a plough. Ahead, the Cheviots, the hills which rise in the border country between England and Scotland, were already capped with snow.

It was late October and there were two more programmes in the Your Town series to get in the can before the weather broke. Alec’s health permitting, they should do it.

Heather had enjoyed presenting this series. Your Town was a television programme which looked at the history of a town as reflected in the architecture of its buildings and the development of its streets and byways. The academic flavour was tempered with interesting and amusing anecdotes from the town’s past.

Suddenly, the sound of a car horn brought Heather back to the present. To her chagrin she realized that the lights had changed and she had been slow to react. Before she could pull away the car behind her peeped again and she glanced in the mirror angrily.

Her irritation at the driver’s bad manners increased when she saw the car. The elegant lines of an expensive saloon filled her rear view mirror. Behind the wheel she glimpsed a large, unmistakably masculine shape. She could see little more than that he had very dark hair and was wearing casual clothes.

Heather guessed that his expression would be one of contempt for the woman driver in the little red, Astra front of him. It must be galling for him that, in spite of his powerful car, he could not overtake her until they reached the end of the roadworks.

She was determined that his show of impatience would not fluster her into increasing her speed, even though she was in a hurry.

During her short career in television Heather had had to face plenty of aggravation and downright intimidation from overbearing males and she had become experienced at handling difficult situations.

Luckily, the men she was going to work with today were friendly. Alec Seaton had given her her first big break against opposition from his superiors and he was always supportive and interested in her career plans. Mike Carr, the cameraman, and Tim Brown, the sound engineer, were an easy going pair who were young enough to accept that a growing number of women were establishing themselves in television.

The only other person on the shoot in Alnwick today would be another woman, Brenda Phillips, Alec’s personal assistant. Brenda had come back to work for the BBC when her children went away to college. She was the programme’s Girl Friday who arranged locations, meals and travel arrangements as well as looking after Alec and the entire crew like a mother hen.

Heather knew that Brenda would probably have been waiting on location for at least an hour and she sighed with relief when she saw that the roadworks were coming to an end. She would soon reach the dual carriageway of the new bypass.

As the last of the traffic cones receded the car behind her pulled out and began to glide past. She saw that it was indeed an expensive car. A black Alfa Romeo 164 and its driver looked equally up-market.

She had a fleeting glimpse of tan leather stretched over massive shoulders and the hint of a green shirt. For a second his head turned to meet her gaze and Heather was chagrined to see the steely glint of scorn in his eyes.

As the black car disappeared into the distance she reflected that, if he kept that speed up, it wouldn’t be long before he reached the Border. The Scots were welcome to him!

Not long afterwards, Heather left the bypass and took the old route into Alnwick, historic border town and home of the Dukes of Northumberland. She headed straight for the market square hoping that she would find a parking place close to the point where they were to start working.

Her journey almost over, adrenalin began to flow through her veins like a drug as she contemplated the work ahead. She had thoroughly studied the background with the help of Brenda’s excellent research and she had made her own prompt notes to keep with her while she was filming. She was confident that she had done the groundwork but she couldn’t help feeling keyed up. This was no bad thing. Heather knew that you gave a better performance if you did not allow yourself to become too relaxed or blasé.

As she manoeuvred past the early morning shoppers, she glimpsed Alec and the rest of the crew waiting by the old Saxon cross. Alec looked worried and Heather bit her lip guiltily; she hoped that her late arrival had not caused him any extra stress.

He had been ill ever since filming a holiday programme in North Africa. He had picked up some mystery virus and, no matter what the doctors did for him, he just didn’t seem to be getting any better. She hoped he would have the stamina to complete not only this programme but also the next one which would bring them to the end of the present series.

After she had pulled into the parking space, Heather glanced briefly into the rearview mirror to check her appearance, then she snatched up her bag and her clipboard with one hand while at the same time she pushed open the door of the car.

Thump! In her haste she simply had not seen the tall figure who had stepped off the pavement to move between the cars into the market place at the same time as she had opened the door. She slid hastily out of her seat and looked up in time to see the figure buckle and fall onto the wet cobblestones.

Heather stared down in horror at the long limbs clad in designer jeans and the expensive jacket with the dark, wet stain slowly spreading across the tan leather. The man raised his head to glare at her and she caught her breath as she recognised the driver of the Alfa Romeo. He had not gone to Scotland after all.

He began to get up and she experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she saw the angry expression in his grey eyes.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘I didn’t see you –’ She faltered as he glanced briefly at her car and then turned to stare at her malevolently.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he snarled. ‘You’re an even bigger menace on the pavement than you are on the road!’

All thoughts of apologising vanished from Heather’s mind when she saw the sheer arrogance of his expression. She drew herself up to her full five foot nine inches and was chagrined to find that she still had to stare up at him. But she was determined not to be browbeaten.

She was perfectly composed when she replied, ‘I can see it’s no use offering an excuse to someone like you —’

‘What excuse could there be? You opened your car door without looking —’

‘— and you stepped off the pavement without looking,’ Heather broke in. ‘But I haven’t time to stand here and argue. As you’re obviously none the worse for your fall, I’ll have to go.’

‘Please, don’t let me keep you —’

Heather fought the urge to shrink back as his eyes raked over her. She felt as though she were being stripped naked.

She turned away and fumbled clumsily as she locked her car and she tried to