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Authors: Lucy Gillen

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BOOK: Winter at Cray
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She pulled a white fur hat on over her red hair and absently noted the fact that it suited her, her eyes taking in the slight frown that creased her forehead and which she determinedly banished.

Perhaps both Stephen and Jonathan had been right about her needing a change of environment, although the idea of them being in agreement about anything made her smile ironically.

The short winter afternoon was already closing in, although there was still a couple of hours yet until it would be dark and it was good to escape the confines of the house for a while. A feeling which, she realised with a start, was new to her; she had never before been anxious to get away from the old house or its occupants.

Robert appeared to have boundless energy and shrilled his delight against the icy wind, seeking her company far less than he would once have done, but content to enjoy more boisterous exchanges with Jonathan.

He pouted disappointment when Louise decreed a return to the house, startling her with his likeness to his father in his reproach. He pulled off the woolly hat he had been wearing and flung it into the air as he ran back up the incline, obviously intending to lose it if he could.


No, you don

t, my lad
!’
Jonathan told him with a laugh, and rescued the hat from a drift, shaking it dry before clamping it firmly back on Robert

s head.

You

ve been looking for an excuse to lose that hat ever since we came out.


But you—

Robert started to protest, and was silenced by a raised eyebrow.


I

m old enough to please myself,

he was told.
‘Y
ou still do as your mother tells you to, O.K.?

For a moment it looked as if Robert might argue, but the prospect obviously looked daunting, so he merely shouted an amiable,

O.K.

over one shoulder and ran off again, while Louise gazed after him, silently wondering at the authority exercised over her son. Surprised too at her own quiet acceptance of it.


He

s getting to an age when he needs a man

s hand,

Jonathan told her quietly, almost as if he read her thoughts.

You

ll have to put Stephen out of his misery and marry him.

The colour that flushed her cheeks was purely anger and she thanked heaven that Robert was running ahead.

I wish you

d mind your own business,

she told him with what she hoped was crushing dignity,

and stop trying to organise my life for me.


Nothing was further from my mind,

he vowed, and she knew without looking at him that he was laughing at her.


You have no right to—to say anything about what I should do or not do,

she went on, determined to ruffle that infuriating calm if she could.

I know you make the excuse that your profession automatically makes you inquisitive, but you have no right to keep telling me what to do.


No right at all,

he agreed blandly.


Then don

t!

She heard his laugh with both annoyance and frustration and glared at him angrily.

There was little hope of making
him
lose his temper, and the realisation did nothing to improve her own.

Oh, go and play with Robert!

she retorted.

And leave me alone!


O.K.

He waved a casual hand as he walked off to join Robert further up the hill, leaving her alone with her anger.

Robert was, inevitably, hurling snowballs and welcomed his favourite antagonist with delight. It was a badly aimed snowball, with the additional hazard of the slippery ground, that combined a few minutes later to send her flying backwards into the still deep snow beside the path.

Her cry was as much astonishment as anger as she sank into the wet, clinging mass, with melting snow streaming down her neck and chillingly uncomfortable.

For a second or two she lay there, breathless and horribly wet and cold, with the sound of Robert

s laughter ringing in her ears, then struggled to free herself, succeeding only in sinking in deeper when her feet slid helplessly from under her.

Help came suddenly and unexpectedly in the form of two hands that pulled her to her feet in one swift and rather inelegant movement that ended abruptly in Jonathan

s arms. Arms that retained their hold on her even after she was standing, her cold face against the soft warmth of sheepskin that she realised, hazily, was the lining of his coat.


I

m wet through,

she complained breathlessly.

Ugh, it

s horrible
!’


I

m sorry.

The words sounded half-choked and she realised he was laughing.


Oh, you brute, you callous, inhuman monster, you threw it deliberately!

It was difficult to give full vent to her anger because she was still held, breathlessly tight in his arms, but she managed to raise her head sufficiently to glare at him and met the warmth of laughter as he looked down at her, trying to look apologetic.

‘I’m
sorry
,’
he said again,

but you did look funny and madly inelegant with your feet sticking out like that—you ask Robert.

‘I’m
glad you think it

s funny.

She chose to ignore the fact that Robert had laughed longer and more loudly than he had at her predicament, trying to free herself from the arms that still held her tightly enough to make escape impossible. She put her hands against his chest and pushed.

Let me go!


You

re sure you

re all right?

He made no effort to release her and she was uneasily aware of Robert standing only a few feet away with an incredibly pleased expression on his face that she felt would have been more appropriate to her great-grandmother.


Of course I

m all right,

she told him shortly,

though I

m surprised you bother to ask since you were the one that knocked me over. Now please let me go!

For a moment she thought he would refuse and she felt her pulse racing dizzily, but then he eased his hold on her and smiled.

I didn

t aim at you—honest,

he told her with schoolboy earnestness, but she merely glared at him as she brushed the clinging wetness from her coat.


Louise—

She would have stalked off in dignified silence, but he turned her to face him again.

I really am sorry.

For a moment she just looked at him, her eyes dark with some emotion she could not have identified, but which sent her blood pounding warmly through her body until she glowed with it.

You will be
,’
she warned darkly, without the slightest idea of her own meaning.

She moved away and on up the hill towards Robert, facing the icy wind but conscious of the warmth that still lingered where his arms had held her.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

QUITE late that night, Louise had seen Aunt Charlotte to bed and looked in on Robert and when she came downstairs, thinking to find the lower part of the house deserted, she found Jonathan standing in the hall near the bottom of the stairs.

She half-smiled.

Goodnight,

she said, thinking he was on his way up to his room and only waiting for her to come down.


Not yet,

he told her, and she eyed him warily when he shook his head.

If you don

t mind, Louise, I

d like a word with you.


It

s very late.

Her objection was almost automatic, and he grinned.


Not to worry,

he told her,

no one

s here to think the worst of us being down here together in the still of the night.

It was a deliberate jibe at Stephen, she knew, and frowned over it, wishing her colour had not risen at the implication he made.

If you have something to say, Mr. Darrell, please say it; it

s very late and I

m very tired, but if it

s important I

ll listen.


I
think it

s important,

he told her.

I

m not sure what your opinion will be, you

re such a little cracker I never know which way you

ll jump next.


You—


Not now,

he begged, and took her arm.

Let

s go in the big sitting-room, shall we?

She complied with a willingness that surprised even herself.

I won

t keep
you up long,

he promised,

but I wanted to tell you something and—well, I suppose I

m too impatient to wait until morning.

He grinned over the admission.


To—to do with that telephone call you had this evening?

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded, smiling.

You don

t miss much, do you? I

ll
have to recruit you into the ranks of the profession.

She merely flicked him a look of reproach and he went on hastily,
“I’ve
already told Robert, when I took him upstairs tonight.


Told him what?


That I

ll be leaving in a couple of days and he

ll have to go up to bed on his own two feet, as you said.

She had not expected to hear it so brief and blunt, or that she would experience the cold sensation that was almost panic, and she stared at him, her lips half parted as if to protest.

But—but why?

It was not at all what she had meant to say and she saw a slow smile soften the expression on his dark face.


I’ve
had the offer of an interesting assignment,

he explained,

and it

s too good to miss.


Oh, I see.

The big sitting-room was now cold and deserted and she shivered as they stood by the window, wishing she did see. See why his sudden decision should dismay her so much, and not just on Robert

s behalf.

It was perfectly reasonable, of course, for his job took him all over the world and he loved it. He would not willingly stay isolated on a cold little island for long, no matter how much an old lady wanted him to, or how much a little boy would miss him. She made no attempt to examine her own feelings, in fact she seemed to have none at the moment.


There was something else
,’
he said, and his tone made her blink hastily out of her reverie and look at him enquiringly.

Perhaps I should have told you before.

There was something in his manner that set her heart beating at such a rate she could actually hear it and she gazed up at him silently for a second or two before she spoke.

What is it?

she asked at last.

Something else I shan

t like?

She scarcely noticed the betraying

else

in the question, but he smiled as if it pleased him.


It may be a shock,

he warned her,

and you may not like it at all.

He eyed her steadily for a second.

Could you bear to have me for a very distant relative, or would it be too much for you
?’


I—I don

t understand.


Well, it

s quite simple really, and one of those coincidences that are stranger than fiction. The fact that I was sent here to cover this story was quite accidental and not planned at all. I

m Robert Kincaid

s great-great-grandson.


You

re—

She stared at him, not knowing whether to believe him or not, but almost certain that even he would not deliberately lie about such a thing.

He smiled wryly at her expression.

It

s true,

he told her.

Alice Kincaid, old Robert

s first wife, was my great-
e
tc.
-grandmama. We

re a generation ahead of you.


I—I—

She still looked at him round-eyed and he laughed softly.


Stricken into silence,

he teased her,

not even a retort. Is it
such
a shock, Louise
?’


I—no, I suppose not really,

she admitted slowly.

At least it would account for you being so much like old Robert.

A startling thought struck her suddenly and she widened her eyes again.

Does Great-gran know
?’

He chuckled as if the memory of something amused him.

Oh yes, she knows,

he told her.

In fact it was she who told me, or at least guessed. She

s a marvellous old darling, you know, and she thought it was a tremendous discovery. I offered to depart in disgrace, but she wouldn

t hear of it.


No,

Louise admitted,

she wouldn

t.


We daren

t let Stephen know,

he said.

The mood he was in I

d probably never have woken up again.

He laughed at the idea, but Louise frowned and shook her head.

Jon, you shouldn

t—

she began, and surprisingly he nodded agreement.


No, I shouldn

t,

he agreed,

especially now.

She made no attempt to seek his reason for saying that but went on hastily:


Did you tell Robert this too
?’


No, I didn

t see much point, it

s too complicated a situation for him to grasp at the moment. We can break it to him later.

There was, Louise thought hazily, a growing intimacy about the conversation that she should do something about.

I just told him I was going, that

s all,

he went on,

and I thought I

d let you know I

d told him, actually I thought you

d prefer it that way. I think he

ll miss me,

he added as if his concern needed explanation.


He will,

she agreed, and hoped her voice was steady, but she had a horrible feeling it quavered badly and she bit her lip anxiously.

When—when did you say you

ll be going?


Not for a couple of days yet.


I

ve been dreading it,

she confessed, and added hastily,

telling him, I mean. I did try once, but then you decided to stay on and he

s grown so fond of you, he

s bound to be very upset about it.

She looked at him curiously for a moment, remembering Robert

s manner that night.

It

s odd he wasn

t upset when I put him to bed earlier,

she mused,

although he did seem to be a bit giggly and secretive. I

m surprised he wasn

t more upset about you going, though.


I told him I was coming back.

She looked at him for a moment in silence.

Are
you coming back?

she asked, and the slow smile encompassed her again, doing strange things to her composure.


It

s possible,

he allowed,

it

s just possible I may.


But you wouldn

t make a promise and not keep it?

She was pleading for Robert

s sake, she told herself.

You wouldn

t be so cruel, would you?


Do you think I would?

he asked, and she shook her head, almost certain.


You wouldn

t do that to Robert,

she told him.

I

I

m sure you wouldn

t. How
did
he take it?

she added, and he smiled, a gleam of devilment behind the smile.


He took it well enough,

he told her,

although he

s a bit annoyed with me, I think, because—

His pause she felt was made for effect and for a moment she felt something of the familiar impatience with him.

Because
?’
she prompted, and looked at him curiously.

He laughed.

He

s a small boy with some very big ideas,

he told her at last.


Oh?

She was still puzzled and more than a little uneasy at what she saw in his eyes, so she turned round and looked out of the big window at the darkness and the patch of light that framed their reflections in the glass.


What haven

t you done that you s
h
ould have in Robert

s estimation? I hope he hasn

t been too—too personal, if he has I

ll scold him, but you have only yourself to blame, I

m afraid, you

ve spoiled him.

He was standing behind her slightly so that he spoke over her shoulder and although she did not look at him directly she
could sense h
im watching her reflection in the window glass, and knew he was smiling by the tone of his voice.


It

s a matter he

s raised with me before,

he told her, and so matter-of-factly that she scarcely believed what she heard.

He wants me to marry you so that I needn

t go away—at least that

s how he sees it.

She felt the colour flood into her face and heard the alarmingly loud beat of her heart as she curled her fingers round the edge of the long curtains, to try and stop their trembling.

I

m sorry—I

m sorry if he embarrassed you,

she said, her voice horribly unsteady. Not for anything could she have turned and looked at him, although she sensed he wanted her to, feeling the gaze of those disturbing brown eyes fixed on her steadily.


He might, of course,

he went on, just as matter-of
-
factly,

have just been making sure that he didn

t get Stephen for a stepfather, but I don

t think so.

She chanced a brief glance at the dark, reflected face in the window.

You

ve done your share of trying to make me marry Stephen,

she told him a little breathlessly.

I didn

t realise you were only trying to avoid being shanghaied by Robert.

BOOK: Winter at Cray
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ads

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