Free Outsider by Sara Craven

have been raped!'
    Natalie shuddered. 'Yes, I know that now. But up till now, I'd always looked
    on Ben Watson as someone— vaguely unpleasant—the sort of little weasel
    who'd get his kicks through playing at Peeping Tom. It never occurred to me
    he could be—dangerous.'
    'Thank God Eliot turned up when he did.'
    'I—suppose so.' Natalie looked down at her glass. She said, 'Why did you
    contact him?'
    Beattie looked thoroughly embarrassed. 'Mother hen instinct,' she said
    reluctantly. 'I went to your room to see if you had any paracetamol. I seemed
    to be starting a headache, and I'd run out. I felt it was odd your bed hadn't
    been slept in, when you'd made such a thing about having an early night.'
    She flushed. 'I could see the lights were on in Eliot's flat—and I thought that
    was where you were,' she went on in a little rush, avoiding Natalie's gaze. 'I
    don't know what made me phone him to check. I felt an awful busybody.
    After all, you're a grown woman with your own life to lead, but I just felt so
    uneasy—because it wasn't like you.' She paused. 'And I'm so thankful I did
    phone. Eliot seemed to know at once where you'd be.'
    Natalie bit her lip. 'You thought I'd got some sordid little assignation going?
    Beattie, how could you?'
    Beattie looked bewildered. 'But it wouldn't have been so extraordinary,' she
    insisted. 'I thought the two of you seemed to be getting on much better
    together at the dinner party. And he is incredibly attractive, Nat. I wouldn't
    have blamed you at all, although Grantham might have,' she added with a
    little grimace. 'The poor darling thinks he's still living in the Victorian age
    where his womenfolk are concerned.'
    'Then he doesn't have to worry,' Natalie said briefly. 'My own ideas are
    pretty antediluvian too.' She swallowed. 'I find it amazing that you can be so
    horrified at the idea of Ben Watson—mauling me, yet accept that' Eliot Lang
    could have been—degrading me in exactly the same way.'
    Beattie sat bolt upright. 'Nat!' Her voice shook. 'It isn't the same thing at all,
    darling.'
    'Isn't it? It seems so from my viewpoint. One fate is no worse than the other.'
    Beattie put her glass down very .slowly, as she considered her reply. 'You're
    still upset, darling,' she said, 'or I'm sure you wouldn't be saying these things.
    You've been married. You know that there's a vast gulf between making love
    with a man in a state of mutual desire, and being—used for the gratification
    of some selfish, violent lust.'
    Natalie said quietly, 'Is there? I'll have to take your word for it.' She put
    down her glass and rose to her feet. 'Thanks for the brandy, Beattie. Perhaps
    it will help me to sleep.'
    If anything could, she thought as she went upstairs, with the prospect of
    Eliot's anger to face in a few hours' time.

CHAPTER FIVE
    NATALIE'S eyes felt as if they'd been rubbed with sandpaper, and her head
    ached as she went into the office. The door to the inner room stood ajar, and
    Grantham's voice raised and angry came booming through.
    'I always said no good would come of employing lasses, and I was damned
    right! It's just putting temptation in the way, and it's cost me a good lad.
    Well, the girl can go too. I'm not having any more of this kind of bother!'
    She heard Eliot say quietly, 'No.'
    'I'm glad you agree with me.'
    'I don't. I was responding to your suggestion that Sharon should be
    dismissed.'
    There was a pause. The lull before the storm, Natalie thought, bracing
    herself.
    'What the hell do you mean?' roared Grantham.
    'Exactly what I say. Sharon stays.'
    'And who the hell are you to tell me what to do in my own stables? I'll have
    no lax discipline here!'
    'I'm your partner,' Eliot returned coolly, 'not some underling to jump to
    attention whenever you raise your voice. And I'm satisfied that Sharon did
    nothing to lead Watson on. Therefore I don't intend to allow her to be
    penalised. And that's my final word on the subject.'
    'Is it? Is it, by God? Then let me