Man of the Trees (4 page)

He grinned and gave her a long look. ‘I think I
had
better go—but not back to the Club.’ He stood up and gave her his hand to pull her to her feet. ‘Am I forgiven?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And you’ll be at the Club tomorrow night as usual?’

There was usually dancing and one or two other items of entertainment.

‘I might,’ Ruth told him. ‘But I’ll make my own way there.’

He kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘I’ll let myself out See you tomorrow—I hope.’

When he had gone she sat down again on the hearthrug and tried to stem the tide of varying emotions which coursed madly through her veins. Gareth was right—she did want love. She wanted very much to be loved. But not Gareth, though she was filled with confusion at the way she had found herself almost responding to him. What was wrong with her? Why was she feeling so unsettled, so emotionally disturbed? Granted that she had a somewhat erratic temperament, she had never felt like this in her life before.

Into her mind, unbidden, came a picture of the tall, insolent figure of Ross Hamilton leaning against a tree. It was his fault. He had made her angry, he had somehow stirred up inside her all kinds of feelings and emotions. Did he speak to all women in the same way that he had spoken to her?

Rather than put another log on the fire she made her way to bed, but try as she might she could not put thoughts of Ross Hamilton out of her mind altogether and as she felt herself drifting off to sleep, there was his face with that mocking half-smile only two inches from hers.

CHAPTER TWO

Throughout
all next day Ruth cogitated as to whether to go to the Foresters’ Club that evening. Most of the Forestry crowd went regularly, and until now Ruth had been no exception. She tried to analyse her uncertainty, and would not accept the half-framed thought that it was because Ross Hamilton might also be there. She was feeling restless because she knew she had to find somewhere else to live, that was it. And, of course, she was missing her father. She had not realised how ghastly it could be to live alone, not having anyone to talk to at intervals, no sounding board.

In the end, she decided she would go to the Club. Ross Hamilton probably wouldn’t be there, anyway, and even if he were, it didn’t matter to her. She would simply ignore him.

Although the Club dances were informal, the women, generally speaking, liked to dress up a little. Ruth thought she would, for a change. It seemed a long time since she had worn anything except her sweater and jeans. She washed her hair, and after some experimenting decided to do it up. She set it in large rollers and sat under her home dryer and manicured her nails. She then had a leisurely bath and proceeded to pile up her hair and put on her make-up before slipping into a dress she had designed and made herself. The colour was a clear, bright scarlet which suited her dark colouring well, and hung in soft, three-tier folds terminating in points at the front and back. She had painstakingly edged the whole material with a contrasting white narrow border and had ruched the bodice, simply adding shoulder straps which she had tied into small bows at the top, although she had cunningly stitched them underneath as a guard against any joker who might try unfastening them. At her throat she wore a white necklace, adding for good measure a red and white flower made out of the same materials as the dress.

Donning a pair of white sandals, she surveyed herself in the long mirror.

‘Not bad at all,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Though I say it as shouldn’t. If Mr. High-and-mighty Hamilton saw me now he would hardly recognise me!’

She smiled experimentally, showing white even teeth between her creamy coral lips.

‘Mm. Well, that’s something Ross Hamilton is hardly likely to see,’ she decided, replacing the smile with a scowl. ‘But he probably won’t be there, anyway, so what am I talking about?’

She slipped on a white velvet jacket and drove herself to the Club. Already she could see Gareth’s car in the car park, and he was the first person to greet her as she entered the door. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance.

‘Wow! You’re a knock-out, Ruth. I’m going to have my work cut out to keep the wolves at bay tonight.’

She laughed. ‘What wolves? Apart from yourself, that is?’

He took her hand. ‘Come and dance. It’s a nice smoochy waltz, and I feel like being smoochy with you.’

‘Well, I don’t feel like being smoochy with anyone,’
she told him, taking the sting out of her words with a smile. ‘So don’t get too amorous.’

The room was fairly full. As they danced to the romantic tune taken from an old, popular musical, Ruth could see many familiar faces, but nowhere could she see the new Head Forester.

‘I wonder if Hamilton will show up?’ Gareth said, as though reading her thoughts.

Ruth shrugged her bare shoulders. ‘I don’t care either one way or the other.’

Gareth grunted. ‘Well, I think there are quite a few here who do. You should have heard Jill and her friend Lucy at lunchtime.’

Ruth sighed. ‘Gareth, can’t we talk about something else? Or just dance?’

‘Sure. I forgot he’s like a red rag to a bull to you. Although,’ he added, with a grin, ‘the way you’re dressed tonight it could well be the other way around.’

Ruth did not reply to this. Really, Gareth was not very original at times.

It was about an hour later that Linda made another of her dramatic entrances, this time closely followed by Ross Hamilton. There was no smile on the man’s granite face—Ruth wondered if he knew how to smile properly, as when he did smile it went no further than a suggestive, faint curve at one side of his mouth. His gaze ranged the room, looking, no doubt for an empty table.

Linda posed in the doorway, looking—as one of the men at Ruth’s table said—terrific, in a long flowing dress of emerald green, its open neck, loop-buttoned to a high waistline with a wide pointed collar and long sleeves. Modest, but at the same time alluring. Ruth suddenly became conscious of her own bare arms and shoulders and the youthful cut of her dress. For the first time in her life she felt at a disadvantage. Linda obviously knew how to dress for her man. She looked the epitome of sophistication as well as managing to combine modesty with allurement. She had even done her hair differently, her blonde tresses falling to her shoulders in soft curls and waves. Ruth glanced down at her , own dress and felt like a teenager only trying to look sophisticated by doing up her hair.

‘Ought we make room for them here?’ murmured Hugh.

‘Oh, no—’ Ruth said automatically.

‘Him, yes, but her—no!’ added Jill.

Hugh flashed a mocking smile from one to the other. ‘You women—jealous as hell when there’s another attractive woman around.’

‘And you men—’ retaliated his wife, ‘your eyes popping out of your head at the sight of a well-dressed woman.’

Gareth put his arm about Ruth’s bare shoulders. ‘Well, personally, my eyes aren’t popping out of my head,’ he said. ‘I’ve got all I want here. Ruth dresses to please herself. Linda is obviously trying to look all modest and feminine, but you’re not going to tell me that that’s all Hamilton wants—modesty and femininity.’

‘Well, it’s not a bad start,’ Hugh said with a wink, evidently teasing his wife quite a bit.

At that moment the music started again. Gareth gave Ruth a hug. ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s dance. And save our seats—’ he added to Hugh as Ruth rose to her feet.

‘I suppose we’ll have to get used to it,’ Gareth murmured as he led her on to an as yet almost empty floor.

‘To what?’ she asked, though she had an idea of what he meant.

‘To having Hamilton around.’

‘At work as well as play,’ Ruth amended. Then she asked: ‘Does it bother you that he’s friendly with Linda?’

He shrugged. ‘Lord, no. I’ve told you, I’ve been out with her a few times, but there was never anything serious.’ He gave a rather wicked grin. ‘All the same, don’t be surprised—or worried—if I date her again. I don’t see why Hamilton should come here and have things all his own way.’

‘You mean you’d date her to spite him?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, something like that. Not if you’re free, of course,’ he added swiftly.

Ruth caught a glimpse of bright green as Linda and Ross Hamilton moved down the room, evidently having seen some empty seats. Then, as the dancing area became more crowded, the same flash of colour could be seen among those dancing. Once, the pair passed close to Gareth and Ruth, and Ross glanced from one to the other without a sign of recognition in his lazy eyes. Linda did not even appear to have seen them.

‘It’s an act she puts on,’ Gareth said when Ruth remarked upon it.

‘And do you think he was putting on an act, too?’ Ruth demanded angrily.

Gareth grinned. ‘Maybe he took his cue from you. I didn’t see you smiling—and I only caught a glimpse of them. Anyway, what does it matter?’

‘Not in the slightest, except that the manners of both of them are deplorable.’

She tried to get a sight of him to see how he danced, but it wasn’t possible, then the tempo changed to beat, and everybody began their individual steps and gyrations.

When the music stopped Ruth and Gareth were at the farthest end of the room from their table, and as they approached they saw that Ross Hamilton and Linda were sitting there. Judging by the two extra chairs, Jill and Hugh had made room for the pair. Ruth halted involuntarily.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Gareth. ‘Do you want to go and find somewhere else to sit?’

Ruth thought for a moment, then her chin lifted. ‘No,’ she answered. ‘Why should we? We’re surely more than a match for those two, and besides, it might upset Jill and Hugh.’

‘You’re right.’

They continued on their way. When they reached the table Hugh and Ross Hamilton rose politely. Linda smiled in a superior fashion, but Ross Hamilton’s lazy blue eyes ranged up and down Ruth’s figure in such a way, she wondered wildly whether the dress was transparent She sat down swiftly, only to catch his glance flitting from one bare shoulder to the other.

To her utter annoyance Ruth felt her face grow warm. From her evening bag she brought out a white lace fan someone had bought her as a present from Spain and began to fan her hot face.

‘Whew! It’s hot in here tonight,’ she remarked to cover up the real reason for her colour.

Ross’s gaze shifted to Gareth. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your young friend?’ he asked smoothly.

Ruth’s eyes blazed. This was an obvious comment on the fact that she was dressed in something other than her sweater and jeans. She snapped her fan shut and wanted to bring it down hard on his brown hands, cupped one inside the other as he leaned his elbows on the table.

Gareth was looking from Ruth to Ross Hamilton, a puzzled frown on his face, as though he could not be quite sure whether the other man genuinely did not recognise her.

‘You must be joking,’ he said, ‘though, of course, you don’t know her as well as we do. Look a little closer. The face is the same. It’s only the hair-do that’s different.’

Thankfully, Ruth noticed he didn’t mention her clothes. Ross Hamilton peered more closely at her from across the table, his bright blue eyes flicking over her features. Ruth compressed her lips and her eyes blazed. Then his eyes narrowed for a second, before he made a great show of suddenly recognising her.

‘Good gracious me, if it isn’t the angry young lady I met in the inclosure! And last night, of course,’ he added. ‘But what a transformation! No wonder I didn’t recognise her. Do you know who you remind me of?’ he asked Ruth.

She took a deep, angry breath. ‘No, and I’m not interested.’

But he went on as if she had never spoken: ‘A Spanish dancer I met in Barcelona. The same colouring, the dress, the fan—and the wonderful colour in your cheeks. It suits you.’

She knew he was goading her, and when the music started again, she glanced at Gareth. But Ross Hamilton was too quick for him.

‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Medway? I’m sure your boy-friend won’t mind just this once.’

‘Well, I—no, of course not. But it’s up to Ruth, not me,’ Gareth answered.

A swift refusal came to Ruth’s lips, but she caught a mute signal from Gareth that it might be policy to agree. Jill and Hugh rose to dance, and she heard Gareth say to Linda: ‘May I?’ Rather than sit alone with the new Forester at the table, or make an obvious excuse to go to the ladies’ powder room, Ruth didn’t feel she had much alternative other than to dance with him. In any case, he seemed to have taken her lack of outright refusal as an acceptance. He had risen, taken her hand and was pulling her gently to her feet.

‘You can dance, I presume?’ he asked as he put his arm about her waist. ‘I could wait to find out, but I wouldn’t want to tread on your toes or embarrass you.’ The small band was playing an old Glenn Miller tune—irresistible to dance to.

‘Why are you so rude?’ she asked him candidly as he led her in the first rhythmic steps.

His eyes widened with
feigned
innocence. ‘I merely asked because I know that most of you youngsters don’t know ballroom dancing and do only beat.’

She could have kicked his shins. ‘I am
not
a youngster! I’m well over twenty-one.’ She was actually twenty-two.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. And for your information, my father taught me ballroom dancing. Anyway, we always have all kinds of dancing here. But perhaps you don’t know how to do beat—as you’re so old.’

At this he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Well done!’ he said, as though he were praising a child. ‘Now let’s dance, shall we, and leave the talking until later.’

For two pins Ruth would have left the floor and rendered him just standing there partnerless, but she found herself swung around to the music. He was quite an expert, and in the sheer enjoyment of dancing with a good partner, she temporarily forgot her annoyance with this man. But at the same time, after their verbal battles it seemed odd to be held at the waist by him, to have her hand on his shoulder, his hand clasped around hers. She caught a faint, pleasant smell of his after-shave and was strongly aware of his masculinity in a way she never was when dancing with Gareth. Perhaps it was because she was more accustomed to Gareth. Ross Hamilton did not hold her too closely. He was too good a dancer for that.

‘Your father has taught you well,’ Ross observed when they stood and applauded during a break from the music.

It would have been asking too much for him to compliment her directly, she thought ironically.

‘And who taught you?’ she came back.

To her surprise he laughed. ‘I suppose I asked for that. I taught myself, actually.’

‘I see. And how many toes did you tread on in the process?’

‘A few, I imagine.’

All at once he sounded reasonable, and somehow she did not like it. She would rather hit out at him for some extraordinary reason. The music started again, and this time it was a dreamy waltz. The band had obviously decided to play a Glenn Miller medley. Ruth was just wondering whether to excuse herself and look around for Gareth, but willy-nilly Ross Hamilton took command and they were dancing again. This time he held her more closely and she found it a most disturbing experience. To create an even more romantic atmosphere, the lights were dimmed, and all around them couples were dancing cheek to cheek or had their arms about each other in the intimate way her father had said they never did in his day. In case Ross Hamilton should attempt any such intimacy, Ruth arched back a little, but this only seemed to amuse her partner.