HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (24 page)

'Right,' he said. 'And it might not be the only thing.' He winked at her and

went off whistling.

Dinner that evening was not the easiest of meals, although Karen was

exerting herself to be charming. She had even managed to smile her

agreement and murmur something complimentary when Nick had bestowed

lavish praise on Morwenna's efforts with the Christmas tree. Dominic had

merely slanted a sardonic glance at it and made no comment at all.

Nor did he make any remark when Mark announced at the end of the meal

that he was taking Morwenna for a drive.

'Mind how you go,' Nick bade him sharply. 'The roads are icy, according to

the weather forecast.'

'Oh, I'll take care,' Mark smiled easily. 'After all, why take risks just when

I've so much to live for?'

The silence which greeted the laughing remark was suddenly electric and

Morwenna felt her face flush as she rose hurriedly to her feet, murmuring

that she would get her coat. Everyone round the table naturally assumed that

Mark was alluding to his relationship with her. And the allusion, she could

see, had been received with enthusiasm by no one. Karen's face wore

fleetingly a mixture of surprise and hostility. Nick looked thoroughly

displeased, and although Dominic's face was enigmatic, when he raised his

eyes and looked at her she almost recoiled from the expression of cold anger

she saw in them.

When they were in the car, she said angrily to Mark, 'What on earth

possessed you to say such a thing? Now they think it's me…'

He grinned unrepentantly. 'Yes, I rather think they did. Let them stew for a

bit. It will do them good. And they'll soon know differently, anyway.'

'Maybe, but you don't make life very easy for me with remarks like that,' she

said unhappily. 'Dominic thinks badly of me as it is, and…'

He gave her a sideways look. 'Tell you what, my sweet, I think you're

altogether too sensitive about Brother Dominic and his opinions. You're as

bad as Biddy. Just play it cool and wait for Christmas Eve.'

'And what's going to happen then?' she asked wearily, her mind flinching

from the possibility that Mark had already suggested.

He gave her an enigmatic grin. 'Wait and see.' And she was too dispirited to

press him further.

At Biddy's there was hot punch to sample, and the first mince pies to make a

wish over. Morwenna only pretended to wish. She couldn't fix her mind on

the sort of festive trivialities required, and she knew at the same time that no

traditional ritual could work the magic necessary to bring her her heart's

desire.

Mark, however, had no such inhibitions. He made his wish aloud.

'I wish, Biddy my love, that you and Greg would come to Trevennon to dine

on Christmas Eve.'

'Now that's plain silly," Biddy said flatly.

'On the contrary.' He took her hand. 'I think the time is more than ripe to

apprise the family of my intentions. And what better opportunity than

Christmas, the time of goodwill. Especially as Dom will probably be

announcing his own engagement at the same time. We can wish each other

joy." He grimaced. 'Seriously, love, he couldn't possibly make a scene, even

if he wanted to, at such a time. And there's no reason why he should want to.

He's doing what he wants to do. He can't hope to deny me the same

privilege."

Biddy's mouth set obstinately. 'I'm not going to Trevennon on

sufferance—on a wave of possibly non-existent Christmas spirit,' she said

blightingly. 'If your brother accepts the fact that we're going to be married,

and. invites us himself, that's a different matter. But I refuse to be produced

at the family dinner table like a—rabbit out of a hat.'

And none of Mark's arguments that attack was the best form of defence, and

that shock tactics were the best way of dealing with Dominic, affected her

attitude one jot. By the time that Mark and Morwenna left, well after

midnight, there was still deadlock. Mark was insisting stubbornly that he

would be over to fetch them willy-nilly on Christmas Eve, and Biddy

reiterating that there was no way she could be persuaded to cross the

threshold at Trevennon without a proper invitation from the master of the

house.

'I just don't understand her,' Mark fumed as they drove away. 'I thought she'd

be delighted that I was taking the bull by the horns at last.'

'Not if she suspects that she'll be impaled on them first,' Morwenna said

drily. 'Don't forget I have first-hand experience of your brother's treatment

of unwelcome guests, and it isn't pleasant.'

'That's true,' Mark admitted. 'On the other hand, he wouldn't treat Biddy like

that. In fact I can never remember him being quite so hostile towards anyone

as he has been to you.'

'Thank you,' Morwenna said bitterly. 'Am I supposed to be flattered because

I'm the exception to the rule?'

He gave her an anxious look. 'I didn't mean to upset you. I mean, sparks do

tend to fly when you're near each other. In fact I've sometimes wondered…'

His voice broke off abruptly.

'Wondered what?' Morwenna prompted.

'Oh, nothing,' he said vaguely. 'Forget it. It's not important. Do you think

we're going to have snow for Christmas? It's certainly cold enough.'

They talked stiltedly about impersonal matters until they Arrived back at the

house. Morwenna waited while he put the car away, then they walked

together round the house to the front door. The air was clear and frosty and

the stars looked very close.

'Huge, aren't they?' Mark took her arm companionably. 'I used to wonder

when I was a kid how the Wise Men knew which one to follow.' He was

silent for a moment. Then he said abruptly, 'If Biddy feels so strongly about

Christmas Eve, I'll have to respect her wishes. I'll see Dominic tomorrow

and tell him that I've invited both her and Greg to dinner, and the reason.

And if he says one wrong word about either of them, then I'll pack my things

and go to St Enna, not just for Christmas but until Biddy and I are married.

After that we'll find somewhere in Port Vennor to live.'

Morwenna smiled at him. 'I'm sure that's the right decision. Don't delay the

wedding too long, either. I—I shall be leaving here early in the New

Year—in fact next week, probably-—but I would like to be one of the

guests.'

'You shall,' he promised. 'In fact you can probably be a witness along with

Greg.'

'I should like that.' She smiled up at him as he closed and bolted the door,

and he smiled back and bent to kiss her lightly on the lips.

'Bless you, love,' he said quietly. 'Bless you for everything.'

She was going to protest that she'd done nothing, but there was a noise just

behind them and she turned to see what it was, as Mark's arm fell from her

waist. The door to the study stood open and Dominic's dark figure stood

directly in the shaft of light that spread into the hall. Morwenna couldn't see

his face, but anyway it was unnecessary. She could feel his anger as if it

were a tangible thing spreading across the intervening space to crush her.

Mark" said easily, 'Oh, hello, Dom. I didn't realise you were still up."

'Obviously,' Dominic said icily. 'I'm 'sorry if I've intruded on one of your

love scenes.'

He turned on his heel and walked back into the study, slamming the door

shut behind him. Morwenna felt the colour rush into her face.

Mark said, 'Oh, hell,' in a tone between resignation and exasperation. He

took a step forward. 'Look—I'll go and explain now…'

'No.' Morwenna was adamant. 'He's in a temper now. It isn't a good moment.

Wait until the morning when he's had time to cool down.'

Mark gave a short sigh. 'I suppose so. Damnation, why did he have to come

out just then? If I'd caught him in a clinch with Karen—or anyone else for

that matter—I would tiptoe tactfully away. But no, he has to make a big deal

out of it. But why? That's what I don't understand.' He looked down at

Morwenna's unhappy face and his own eyes were suddenly reflective. Yet

all he said was, 'I think we'd better remove ourselves. Maybe we'll all see

things in a clearer and calmer light in the morning.'

Lying sleepless in her bed, Morwenna doubted it. She rolled over and

switched on the bedside lamp and looked at the small gilt clock on the table

beside the bed. Nearly two in the morning and she hadn't closed her eyes.

Shegave a slight groan and buried her face in the pillow. She had never

needed sleeping pills in her young healthy life, but she would have given a

great deal for one to have materialised by her bedside now. Perhaps a drink

would help, she thought. Something warm and milky.

She got out of bed and put on her housecoat, tying the sash securely round

her slim waist, then trod barefoot over to the door. She listened intently for a

moment or two, but the house was completely still. She was the only person

wakeful, it seemed. She went lightly along the landing and felt her way

down the stairs into the dark of the hall. She gave a hasty glance in the

direction of the study door, but although it was still shut, no thread of light

showed beneath it and she gave a silent sigh of relief as she made her way to

the kitchen.

The door creaked slightly as she opened it and she heard the dogs, who slept

on the mat in front of the Aga in winter, stir and growl slightly. She spoke to

them quietly as she switched on the light, and they subsided. She had to

admit that they had given her no trouble at all since that day in the bam.

Dominic's solution to her problem might have been ruthless, and had

certainly contributed to her current sleeplessness, but as far as the dogs were

concerned it had been a success.

She found a jug of milk in the pantry and a tin of drinking chocolate, and

began to heat her drink. The dogs watched her efforts, wagging their tails

and grinning sheepishly at her, as if bemused by this early start to their day.

She poured the hot milk into a beaker and stirred the chocolate into it. The

dogs were really restless now and she heard Whisky whine softly, and

scolded, 'Lie down, you idiots.' it was then, and only then, that she realised

she was no longer alone. Dominic was lounging in the doorway. One of his

hands was thrust negligently into his pants' pocket. The other held a glass.

She went on stirring the chocolate although the powder had already

dissolved by that time.

'Oh, hello,' she said awkwardly. 'I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I couldn't sleep.

Would—would you like some chocolate?"

'Thank you—no.' He held up the glass so that she could see the level of

amber liquid it still contained. 'I prefer to seek my oblivion in other ways.'

There was a strange glitter in his eyes as they met hers and she found herself

wondering rather uneasily how much he had drunk. Yet he seemed steady on

his feet and his speech wasn't slurred in the slightest, so perhaps she was

doing him an injustice.

She went on rather desperately, 'I—I thought everyone had gone to bed. All

the lights were off and…'

'There's a fire in the study,' he interrupted. 'I had some thinking to do and

firelight is as good a medium as any to do it by. Come and join me.'

'No, thanks.' She picked up the beaker rather unsteadily, praying that she

would not actually spill any of it on the floor. 'I must be getting back to my

room. It's late and I'm tired.'

'You said you couldn't sleep,' he reminded her. He reached out and took her

arm. His fingers were firm and bruising on her flesh and he meant it. 'Come

and join me.'

She lifted her chin defiantly. 'Couldn't you choose a slightly more civilised

hour to torment me?'

He smiled grimly. 'No doubt I could, but I'm not feeling too civilised at the

moment, and anyway it occurs to me that one of these days you may vanish

as suddenly as you arrived before I've had the chance so say any of the things

I mean to say to you. So I'll say them now, while you're here, under my

hand.'

An uncontrollable shiver went through her as the significance of his words

came home to her. For a moment she toyed with the idea of flinging the hot

chocolate all over him, but even as the idea crossed her mind, he said quite

gently, as if her thoughts were an open book to him, 'I wouldn't, Morwenna.

I really wouldn't.' She trailed mutinously behind him across the dark hall to

the study. He kicked the door shut behind them and led her over to the sofa

in front of the fire.

Releasing her, 'Sit down,' he ordered, and knelt down beside the hearth,

adding fresh logs to the glowing embers and stirring them to a blaze.

Morwenna clamped her hands round the warmth of the beaker, and stared at

the dancing flames. They might take away the chill which had invaded her