Dark Summer Dawn (6 page)

Dane's face tightened for a moment, then he said, 'You have to remember she's been with our family a long time.'

'I'm not likely to be allowed to forget it,' she said wryly. Looking back, she could remember how difficult Jennifer's first months as mistress of Stoniscliffe had been. At first she had been difficult about making changes, a little unnerved by Mrs Arkwright's usual response to any suggestion—'The mistress always liked it done this way,' delivered in a flat tone which brooked no argument. But gradually as she gained confidence and realised that she had Chas's backing, Jennifer had quietly but firmly taken over and Mrs Arkwright had been forced to retreat, grumbling. But Lisa with a child's sensitivity had been aware that she had never forgiven or forgotten that she had been replaced as the virtual mistress of the house by someone she regarded as an interloper. As a small girl, Lisa had been made to suffer in various ways, but she wasn't the only one. Mrs Arkwright hadn't cared for Julie either and considered children generally to be an obstacle to the smooth running of any house.

In fact, Lisa had since wondered whether Mrs Arkwright's unthinking harshness in many small matters—making Julie sleep in the dark when she was frightened was only one instance—had been responsible for her stepsister's acute nervousness. Ail during adolescence, Julie had been subject to attacks of excitability rising at times almost to hysteria, while at school her wild and often rebellious behaviour had caused constant trouble. Persuasion worked with her most of the time, but attempts to exert any kind of authority over her caused an intense reaction. The only person she had ever seemed to be in awe of was Dane, Lisa recalled ruefully, but she knew that even he had been worried by Julie's extremes of behaviour, and had always tended to make concessions where she was concerned.

Presumably Lisa's return to Stoniscliffe had been one of these concessions, especially if Julie had exhibited any signs of becoming hysterical, and it was a weapon she had never hesitated to use whenever it had seemed likely she might be thwarted.

She sighed inwardly, wondering whether Tony Bain-bridge realised just what he was taking on, or had he discovered some magic formula to control Julie by. Love could and did work miracles, of course, and yet…

She was suddenly aware that Dane was studying her face, his dark brows drawn together in a frown.

She said, 'I'm sorry—did you say something? I was thinking.'

'You were lost in thought.' His voice was dry. 'And not particularly pleasant thought by all appearances.' He paused as if waiting for her to offer some explanation, and when she said nothing, he continued, 'I was merely asking whether you'd like some coffee.'

'Yes, I would.' She finished her last sandwich and sat back with a little sigh of repletion. That was delicious. What a lovely place this is, and the rest of the village looks interesting too. It would be nice to stay here.'

He said coolly, 'I daresay it could be arranged. It's out of season. They would no doubt have a room.'

Her eyes met his, widening in frank disbelief while the hot blood surged into her face.

She said, her voice shaking, 'I was making conversation not issuing an invitation. Perhaps I should have made that clear.'

'Perhaps you should,' he said. His eyes slid over her cynically. 'You may be a tramp, Lisa, but you're still a beautiful and desirable woman. And you said earlier that no one had exclusive rights to you. Do you really blame me for trying?'

Anger was threatening to choke her, but she forced herself to speak calmly. 'Blame—no. Despise—yes. And now can we change the subject? I find the current one distasteful.'

'Thus speaks the vestal virgin,' he drawled. 'Only we both know how far from the truth that is—don't we, Lisa?'

For a long moment his eyes held hers, and her rounded breasts rose and fell under the force of her quickened breathing, while her small hands clenched into impotent fists.

Then she said unevenly, 'Can we go now, please? I don't think I want any coffee after all.'

'Just as you wish,' he said, and signalled for the bill. Lisa made an excuse and fled to the powder room. For a long time she stood, her fingers gripping the porcelain edge of the vanity unit, staring at her reflection with unseeing eyes.

Just what had she invited by agreeing to return to Stonis? she asked herself despairingly. She must have been insane to agree.

She ran the cold tap, splashing drops of water on to her face and wrists, making herself breathe deeply to regain her self-control. She hated him, she thought. She loathed him. She had nothing but contempt for him. So why when he had looked at her, his eyes lingering on her mouth, her breasts, had there been that small stirring of excitement deep within her, that tiny flicker of something which could only be desire?

She felt sick with self-betrayal. The poise she had so painfully acquired over the past two years seemed to have deserted her, but then Dane had always had the power to bring her confidence crashing in ruins about her. Yet it was imperative that she give no sign of this. Somehow she had to convince both Dane and herself that the most she felt for him was indifference, and that not even his most barbed remarks could hurt her any more.

It would be hard, but it had to be done. Either that or she would have to run away again, and she couldn't run for ever.

She drew a long quivering breath and went slowly back to the bar. Dane was standing talking to the landlord's wife. He was smiling, and as she looked at him Lisa was again reluctantly aware of the tug of his attraction. No woman could be proof against it, she thought. And yet she had to be. Because she could never, never let herself forget that two years ago Dane had violated her, body and soul.

It began to rain just south of Doncaster, big icy drops which battered against the windscreen with more than a hint of sleet. It seemed like an omen. Lisa thought, looking out of her window at the lowering skies, but she was only being fanciful.

They had travelled for the most part in silence. Dane had addressed a few brief remarks to her, usually connected with her comfort. Was she warm enough? Did she want the radio on? After a while, Lisa had pretended to doze. It was easier than sitting rigidly beside him, fighting to think of something to say which would not evoke any disturbing memories, or re-open any old wounds. Not that Dane had ever felt wounded, she thought bitterly.

She would be glad to get to the house now. The car she was travelling in was the last word in comfort, but she felt cramped and cooped up. A cage however luxurious was still a cage, she thought, and she had to share hers with a predator.

Once off the motorway she began in spite of herself to take more interest in her surroundings, to look about her for long-remembered landmarks. So many place names on the signposts struck answering chords within her, and most of them had happy associations—Wetherby with its race track where Chas had called her his mascot because she'd picked three winners for him on the card— Harrogate where she and Julie had been at school—York with its gated walls and towering Minster, and the little winding streets which seemed like a step into the past. She hadn't realised until that moment just how much she had missed it all, and a wave of pure nostalgia washed over her. She had been homesick, but she had managed to keep it at bay by reminding herself how impossible it was that she should ever go back.

Yet now she was back, brought by the man who had driven her into flight in the first place. And again she thought, 'I must be insane.'

The motorway was far behind them now, and it was getting dark, too dark to gain more than a fleeting impression of the surrounding countryside, the dale where Stoniscliffe was situated.

But she could remember it, could imagine the sweep of the moor, the tall rocks which pressed down to the very verges of the road, the splashing waterfalls, the march of the dry-stone walls, and the sturdy grey houses set firm against all the wind and weather could do to them.

She could gauge almost to the moment when Dane would slow for the turning which led downhill into the village. When they had been children she and Julie had always closed their eyes at that moment and counted to fifteen not too quickly, because that was how long it took to reach Stoniscliffe. Instinctively she closed her eyes and began to count, feeling the car turn in at the gate, the scrunch of the tyres over the gravel with the old familiar rush of excitement.

Dane said drily, 'You can open your eyes now. We're here.'

She obeyed, only to be almost dazzled by the lights streaming from the ground floor. The front door stood wide open, and she could see Julie's slim figure almost dancing with excitement.

Once again she had to wait impatiently for Dane to release the door catch for her, and then she was running up the three shallow steps which led to the door, and Julie was hugging her.

'Oh, Lisa—
Lisa
! It's wonderful to see you again. You wretch, to go off like that without a word to me. I have missed you so!'

She put her arm through Lisa's and took her into the house. Mrs Arkwright was waiting in the hall, neat in her dark blue dress, her grey hair arranged in its usual formal bun. Her expression betrayed neither welcome nor resentment, and Lisa looked back at her equally calmly.

'Good evening, Mrs Arkwright.'

'Good evening, miss,' the housekeeper returned. 'If you'd like to follow me, I'll show you your room.'

'There's no need for that,' Julie broke in impatiently.

She knows which room is hers. This is her home, remember. Besides, Daddy wants to see her right away. He's been on tenterhooks ever since lunch, poor darling.' She added to Lisa in an undertone, 'Did Dane tell you about Daddy—about the wheelchair?'

'Yes, he did.' Lisa sighed. 'Why didn't you write to me, Julie, tell me?'

'Because he'd have had me hanged, drawn and quartered if I'd dared to do any such thing,' Julie said blithely. 'He hates people feeling sorry for him, or making concessions for him. He insists on doing as much as he can for himself. We thought he might be overdoing the independent bit at first, but the doctor said it was all right.' She drew a small breath. 'And now you're here and that makes everything perfect. We're a family again.'

'Until you get married,' Lisa said drily.

'Yes, I suppose so.' Julie gave a little uncertain laugh. 'I'd never thought of it in quite that way.'

Lisa squeezed her arm affectionately. 'Darling, are you happy?'

'Blissfully.' Julie lowered her voice dramatically. 'Tony worships the ground I walk on.'

'Clearly an ideal husband,' Lisa teased. 'I hope this devotion is fully reciprocated.'

'Naturally,' Julie said lightly, 'or I shouldn't be marrying him.'

She led Lisa across the hall to the drawing room door which she threw open with a flourish.

'Here she is, Daddy,' she announced.

Charles Riderwood wasn't in his wheelchair. He was up on his feet supporting himself with difficulty on two sticks.

He said, 'Lis, my dear lass.' And she ran to him.

When she could trust her voice, she said, 'So this is what you do the moment my back is turned.'

He said ruefully, 'It seems like it,' and smiled down at her. He had lost a good deal of weight, she noticed, and there were lines of weariness and suffering marked in his face. He went on, 'But I was determined to welcome you on my own two feet, and not in that bloody thing.' He gave the inoffensive wheelchair a ferocious look.

'It looks very swish.' Lisa eyed it critically in turn. 'What are all those gadgets for? Aren't you going to give me a demonstration?'

Julie threw her a grateful look as Chas manoeuvred himself back into the chair.

He gave them a smug glance. 'I can manage, you see. We don't need that nurse. Why don't we send her packing?'

'Because Lisa and I aren't going to wait on you hand and foot, all hours of the day and night.' Julie bent and kissed the top of his head. 'You're abominable, Daddy, and you know it. Far from sending the poor soul away, I have to do a daily grovel to get her to stay here.'

The smug look deepened and he muttered, 'Woman's a fool.' Then he said more sharply, 'Where's Dane?'

'I'm here.' Dane strolled into the room. 'I was waiting until the reunion was over.'

'Oh?' His father gave him a quick frowning look. 'Well, now you are here I've got something to say to you—to both of you. I'm not blind, and I'm not stupid either, and I know quite well there was trouble between you before Lisa went away. I don't know what it was about, and I don't want to know. You're adults, not children, and you're entitled to your differences, if you want them. But now she's back with us again, in her home where she belongs, and I want an end to it. Whatever it was, it must be over and done with now, and I want peace between the pair of you.'

Dane said coolly, 'Then peace it shall be, if Lisa's willing.' He held out his hand, and numbly, unable to speak, Lisa let his fingers touch hers for a fleeting moment.

Chas gave an irritable grunt. 'That's a chilly sort of peace,' he derided. 'Kiss her and make up, man. Anyone would think you were strangers!'

Lisa stood as if paralysed. Above her, she saw Dane's face, graven as a mask. As he bent towards her, she closed her eyes in rejection, but she felt the cold swift brush of his lips on her cheek as if she had been branded there.

Chas said with satisfaction, 'That's better,' and beamed at them both. Lisa forced herself to smile back at him, but the muscles in her face felt stiff and unnatural, and she felt as if she was grimacing instead.

Dane said abruptly, 'I'll go and put the car away.' He left the room without looking at her.

Chas stared after him. 'Now what the devil's he at?' he demanded indignantly. 'Mrs Arkwright will be bringing in tea at any moment.'

Julie giggled. 'He looked as if a stiff whisky would be more in his line,' she said cheerfully. 'Come on, Lisa, let's pop upstairs and make sure you have everything you need before tea.'

On the way upstairs, she hissed, 'What on earth was all that about? Did you really fall out with Dane?'