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'You'll keep off your foot until we know whether your ankle's broken, or only sprained.' He made it an order, and she flushed resentfully, but she was sitting at the limit of her seat and there was no room to move away; he bent and picked her up as if she was no more than a featherweight in his arms, and swung himself and her out of the helicopter to the car with easy steps, as if he held no burden.

'Front or back, Skipper?' Willy held both doors wide open for choice.

'Front,' Marion's heart cried. 'In the front beside Reeve.'

'Back,' Reeve said briefly, and bending he let her down carefully on to the wide, comfortable back seat, and eased her towards the end of it. 'Lean back and keep your foot up.' He settled a couple of cushions behind her shoulders and head and laid her legs along the length of the car seat. 'You as well,' he snapped his fingers to the dog, and smiled as Gyp jumped in beside her without hesitation. He did not smile at Marion, and her heart mourned the omission. Her hand strayed down to Gyp's silky head, seeking the comfort of his warm, licking tongue and waving tail. The dog seemed to be the only one left who wanted her, she thought, drearily. Because of Reeve, the people in the valley would shun her. She had never sought their company before, now she wanted it desperately. Her uncle was buried in his writing, Mrs Pugh immersed in the management of the hotel, and Reeve.... Reeve glared at her as if he hated her. She did not count Willy. He was friendly enough, but because of his work he was committed to Reeve and not for anything would she come between them.

'I'll go and tether the 'copter,' Willy spoke to Reeve from outside the car. 'You go on, if you're in a hurry, I'll get back on my own.'

'A few minutes won't make all that much difference,' Reeve told him decisively. 'We'll wait.' He made no effort to get into the car with Marion while they waited. Instead, he shut the back door on her with a finality that dropped her spirits to zero and brought the tears perilously close to the surface. He leaned casually against the bonnet of the car, thrusting his hands deep into his anorak pockets, and seemed impervious himself to the rain. She could see the wet drops glisten on his dark hair, outlining his high forehead and the stern set of his features as he waited patiently while Willy and a mechanic tethered the rotor blade.

She closed her eyes, but the soft sweep of her lashes against her cheeks could not prevent the escape of a tear. It trickled into the dark hollows under her eyes, more pronounced now than when she had got up that morning, and lay there gleaming damply in the subdued light from the rear window, treacherously betraying her inner turmoil to the grey hawk gaze that flicked over her briefly as Reeve took his seat beside Willy in the front and brought it back again to rest on her face with a strange expression that she could not see because she resolutely kept her eyes closed.

'I'll drive.'

She heard him speak to Willy, felt the big car rock slightly as the two men took their seats, and the doors thudded to as the engine purred into life, and the motion told her they were on their way. She did not need the low-toned conversation between Reeve and Willy to tell her which seat Reeve sat in. Nor did she need to open her eyes to see in front of her the broad shoulders, rippling slightly as he moved his arms to manipulate the controls, topped by the strong, tanned column of his neck to where it met the crisp, dark hair, neatly barbered above his collar, and curling slightly into the nape in a way that made her long to run her fingers along the thick, springy line of it. The sheer dynamic force of him reached across the intervening space to touch her, and set her pulses racing.

'Today's a write-off.' It was Reeve speaking. 'I'll have to come out with you for an hour or two tomorrow instead, if we're to make that final survey.'

'We couldn't have seen a lot today anyway, the ceiling's too low.' Willy resorted to jargon to describe the rain clouds.

'Probably not, but we could have seen some,' Reeve argued. 'As it is, it'll be too late by the time we get back. The light will be too poor.'

He did not mind her knowing she had wasted his day. Marion's eyes flew open, and she sat upright abruptly, and straightaway gave a gasp as she put pressure on the already ill-treated palms of her hands to help her up.

'We thought you'd dropped off to sleep.' Willy caught the slight sound. He turned instantly and smiled at her, and somehow she managed a weak smile back. Reeve knew she had not been asleep, otherwise he would not have made such a remark. She burned with indignation.

'I said I didn't want to go to hospital, in the first place,' she snapped at the back of his head.

'You need to go,' he replied without turning, 'what you want is quite irrelevant,' he added evenly. 'And since we're already here there's little point now in turning back.' He swung the Rover through a pair of open iron gates and drew up smoothly in front of a red brick annexe to a tall, grey stone building, over which a foot-high sign declared it to be the Casualty Department entrance.

'I'll walk.'

This time she was determined he would not carry her— she refused to be beholden to him again. If she was quick, she could slide out feet first on the other side of the car the moment Willy opened the back door. The pilot swung out of his seat, and she waited impatiently for her escape route to appear. Willy put his hand on the door handle. She did not hear the door open against her back. The first she knew of it was a draught of cool air against her neck, then Reeve reached in and put his one arm round her waist and pulled her backwards along the seat towards him. She started violently at his unexpected touch, but he kept hold of her and kept on pulling. She could not struggle. He held her too tightly for her to offer any serious resistance, and in seconds she was hanging in his hold, suspended over the tarmac of the hospital drive, but before her feet could leave the car seat after her body Reeve's other arm came up under her knees, and he lifted her high against him.

'Put me down!' she whispered furiously. 'I don't want your help.'

'I told you,' he tightened his grip, 'what you want is irrelevant.'

What she really wanted was irrelevant to him, she thought unhappily, and it hurt worse than her ankle and her two hands put together. She moved restlessly, and his voice hardened.

'If you don't lie still, I'll ....'

'Would you like a wheelchair for the lady, sir?' What Reeve intended to do was lost to her by the appearance of a friendly hospital porter, with an offer of help, which to her chagrin Reeve instantly refused.

'I can manage, she's not heavy,' he said firmly. 'Where to?' he asked.

'This way, sir, the room on the left.' Without another word Reeve carried her over to the couch the porter indicated, and deposited her in the middle of the blankets. 'Now if you'll wait outside?' The man ushered Reeve away. 'We won't keep you apart any longer than we can help,' he told Marion with what was meant to be a kindly smile. She grimaced as he drew the curtains round the couch. If he did but know it, he was doing her a favour by separating them, she thought angrily.

'Hold your breath, this will sting.' The young doctor who appeared was brisk and efficient, and unfortunately truthful Whatever it was he soaked the cotton wool with to clean her hands felt like hot coals on her lacerated palms. 'It'll soon pass.' Fortunately his comforting words were accurate as well, and no sooner had her involuntary gasp of agony receded than her hands began to feel surprisingly comfortable. He bandaged on a light padding and turned his attention to her ankle. 'There isn't any break.' He slipped the X-ray plates into a wallclip and switched on the light behind them. 'Not even a crack,' he confirmed. 'It's just a bad strain. Painful, but nuisance value only.' He had his own priorities, Marion realised, but the thought of being rendered immobile filled her with dismay. It could not have come at a more inconvenient time.

'Shall I be able to use it at all?' she asked anxiously.

'I shouldn't, not for a couple of days, until the worst of the swelling has gone down,' her white-coated companion advised. 'I'll strap it up for you.' He proceeded to do so with dexterous fingers, and chancing to look up, caught the expression of consternation on her face. His own broke into a reassuring smile. 'Don't worry, we'll make you mobile,' he promised. 'Try these.' He took a pair of crutches the porter handed through the curtains, and watched her critically as she experimented with a step or two. 'You should manage nicely on those,' he encouraged, then rolled aside the cubicle curtains and walked with her back to where Reeve sat outside. He rose as soon as they appeared and came towards them, and the doctor spoke directly to him.

'Bring her back the day after tomorrow,' he suggested. 'The swelling should have subsided by then, and in the meantime, having the crutches will lessen the inconvenience.'

And effectively prevent Reeve from picking her up again, Marion thought with satisfaction. She could not resist a small, triumphant glance in his direction, but his face was expressionless, and his grey eyes returned her look with an inscrutable stare. He walked with her slowly towards the car, adjusting his pace to hers and the porter walked on her other side.

'Like jailers,' she thought with an ill-timed desire to giggle, that she hastily suppressed. It was not a particularly funny ending to her ill-starred walk with the dog, and but for Reeve it could have been tragic. The thought sobered her, and she concentrated on mastering her new aids, thankful for the soft padding bandaged to her palms that eased the pressure against the cross bars of the crutches. At least she would be able to get about without too much trouble.

'I can manage to get in on my own.'

She spoke with defiant dignity as they reached the car, and wordlessly Reeve opened the door for her—the front passenger door, not the back one this time. She gave him a startled look, but he held out his hands for her crutches, and she gave them to him in silence. She would have preferred to do without his help altogether, her look told him so, but she could not get into the car and hold the crutches at the same time. He waited patiently enough as she settled comfortably into the seat, and he had shut the door on her before she realised he still had the crutches in his hand.

'I'll take them....'

She turned to open the door again, and then it dawned on her that even the roomy interior of the front passenger compartment was not designed to take long, inflexible rods of wood without discomfort to the person who sat in the seat. Did Reeve know this when he deliberately put her in the front? Perhaps hoping to make things more awkward for her, by depriving her of the one thing that ensured her independence of him? she wondered angrily. She heard the back door of the car open behind her, but she resolutely refused to look round. Probably he intended to put the crutches along the length of the back seat, but she determined she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing his action had disconcerted her. She heard him snap his fingers to Gyp, and the dog jump eagerly into the rear well, then Willy said,

'Ready to go, Skipper?'

She averted her eyes as Reeve nodded an affirmative, and turned towards the hospital porter, no doubt to thank him for his help, then he was climbing into the car beside her, easing his long length under the wheel, his hands reaching for the controls.

She ought to have thanked the porter herself. Guiltily she turned to look out of the side window, and pinned on a bright smile she was far from feeling, to serve as her own display of gratitude. Impulsively she raised her hand to wave to the porter, then it dropped limply back into her lap, and her smile faded as she saw what it was the man held in his hands.

Her pair of crutches.

'You've given him back the crutches! You've no right...' She turned to stare incredulously from the porter to Reeve. 'Stop the car! At once!' she demanded, as he set the vehicle rolling, and showed no signs of hearing, let alone obeying her. 'You know I can't walk without them for at least two days,' she stormed angrily.

'The less you're able to walk about, the less mischief you can get into,' he replied grimly. He raised his hand in a courteous salute to the porter, smiled as it was returned —gleefully, Marion saw, because his underhand ploy had succeeded so well—then swung the big car out of the hospital gates, and eased it skilfully into the fast-moving traffic streaming along the main road.

'You're trying to stop me from moving about so that I shan't be able to do anything about your wretched reservoir plan,' she flashed at him accusingly. The slick ease with which he had accomplished his object choked her with fury.

'Let's say I prefer to know where you are at any given time.' Reeve slanted a sideways glance at her, and her feelings boiled over as his lips quirked upwards in a grin. He was laughing at her! Enjoying her defeat...

'You—you ' She glared at him in impotent fury. She longed to strike the clean-cut, laughing lips. The desire to do so was almost irresistible. Her hand actually rose again, and then the sharp clang of an ambulance bell heading urgently towards the hospital entrance cooled her fury as effectively as a cold douche. Reeve was driving. If she struck him it would distract his attention from the road, perhaps make the car swerve. For an appalling moment she felt she did not care, so long as it was only Reeve who was hurt Then the moment passed, and left her cold and trembling, shaken to the core by her glimpse of what deeply stirred emotions could do to a normally gentle nature, and sickened that it was she—Marion— who had, if only for a few brief seconds, so loathed a fellow human being.

She lay back in her seat, drained by the force of the spent emotion, the depths of which she had never experienced before, and had no wish to do so again. But then, she had never loved before, either, and it was said that love and hate were akin. And now she knew both, intimately. From a long way off she heard Willy speak from the back of the car.

'If the cloud clears, we can go up again tomorrow, or the day after.'

'It'll have to be tomorrow. I'm bringing Marion back to the hospital the day after.'