Shadows (20 page)

“Do whatever you have to.”  Jonny had no doubts.  “Keep her safe.”

Rory clicked his phone shut, frowning over Jonny's last comment.  Keep her safe.  Jonny and Gareth had been friends a long time.  No doubt all three of them were friends—Jonny, Gareth and Melissa.  What a mess.  He jumped down from the mill wheel, ran up the steps and strode off along the lane.  He needed to walk to disperse the bubble of anger growing inside his chest.  Maybe she hadn’t lied to him, but she had avoided the absolute truth.

And it hurt.  Like a sore tooth nagging away, flashing with pain when touched.  The pain scored him at every remembered evasion.

He walked faster on the level track of the drive and turned right at the end onto the road.  Out of the shade of the trees, the sun struck him between the shoulder blades.  She would return soon.  He walked on toward the bridge, teeth clenched.  Should he confront her with Jonny’s revelation?  Or ignore it?  Tension held his muscles tight.

She would claim it was none of his business.

Quite rightly so.

He’d brought her on a romantic holiday, hadn’t he?  Girls liked that sort of gesture.  He leaned over the stone bridge, stared down at the clear water rushing beneath him.  She claimed to like the place, even seemed to like him.  So why could she not confide in him?

Everything came back to trust.  Why couldn't she trust him?

He groaned.  He’d been no more honest with Melissa than she had with him.  He hadn’t confided anything he wouldn’t have told any of his previous girlfriends.  Perhaps she sensed that?  Perhaps if he led the way, she would follow suit?

The muted roar of a tractor made him look up.  The local farmer, seated on an ancient Massey-Ferguson with his son balanced somewhat precariously behind him, appeared around the corner.  Rory straightened, returned their friendly greetings and stepped onto the verge to give the man room to drive by.

From this side of the valley he looked across the flat, marshy land to the mill, and couldn't see it.  How well hidden it was among the trees.  He walked on, and soon sweat trickled down his spine.  To walk so fast in this heat was madness.  The bulky red cows and their calves ambled along toward the shade of the trees.  They had more sense.

~~~

He showered in cold water when he got back to the mill, and emerged refreshed and relaxed.  Dressed in a clean shirt and shorts, he sat barefoot on the bolly and waited for Melissa.  Fingers tapping on the white plastic table, he tensed at the sound of the Honda purring along the far side of the valley, and a pang of nervous anticipation gripped him.  He got up and retrieved the bottle of wine from the fridge and uncorked it but did not pour until the Honda stopped in front of him.

She climbed out, looking svelte and cool in her sleeveless shirt and lightweight skirt, and glanced around.  “Christophe?”

“Gone home.”

“Good.”  With a brilliant smile, she walked to the back of the car and lifted the boot.

Rory joined her.  “Let me take that.”  He took the bulky bags from her.  “You’ve caught the sun.”

Her palm went to her shoulder where the skin glowed pink.  “Not too badly, I hope.”  She followed him into the kitchen and began putting things away.  “Was that a bottle of wine I saw on the table?”

“It is.  Cold and ready to drink, just as you like it, ma’am.”

“Mind-reader.”  She grinned.  “I’ll bring the food.  It’s cold, so it won’t take a moment.”

Rory padded outside again.  He must take things slowly.  Maybe start the conversation by speaking of his family, and then nudge it into the channels he wanted.

She followed him out bearing plates of cold meat, cheese and salad.  “The Brie is already at the right temperature.”

The cheese was softening at the edges and his mouth watered.  “M’mm.  Looks good enough to eat.”

She laughed, and flopped into the chair opposite.  “Don’t stand on ceremony.  This is a picnic.  Eat with your fingers.”

Rory stared at his baguette.  This was as good an opening as he was likely to get.  “I didn’t used to like picnics when I was young.  Far too formal.”

Melissa stopped chewing.  “How can a picnic be formal?”

“Oh, they can.  Especially if your mother spreads a tablecloth, and insists you eat with a knife and fork as if you were at home.”

“Oh, no.  That’s dreadful.”

“She used to sit there with a cardigan pulled tight around her, flapping away flies and wasps.  I have one memory of her in a hat and coat, but I’m not sure if I haven’t made that up.”

Melissa laughed.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t laugh, but…”

“I know.  Parents are the very devil.  But where would we be without them?”

Melissa shrugged and ate an olive.

Ah, now her lack of response was telling.  Rory wedged a slice of wafer thin ham into a baguette.  She didn't want to follow up on that remark.  “They didn’t want me to be a solicitor or a barrister.  They think it is a money-grabbing profession that deals with the seedy side of life.”  Licking his fingers, he flicked a swift glance at her.  This was beginning to feel like work, and he didn't like it.  In his firm, victory was all.  But trying to trap Melissa wasn't something he enjoyed.

“I suppose sometimes it is, but lawyers always seem to make a good living.”

“Ah, but good living to my parents means being a doctor or a missionary and helping people less fortunate than ourselves.  We are not put on this earth to feed our stomachs but to feed our souls.”

Melissa’s eyes widened in horror before her lids came down to hide her expression.  “Is that what they said?”

What had those words meant to her?  “All through my childhood.  Obviously, I’m a huge disappointment to them.”

“Oh, Rory, how awful.”  Her eyes still wide with distress, she stared at him.  “Do you still see them?”

“Not unless there’s a good reason.  A birthday, or Christmas.  At least then I can hide behind my brothers.  The youngest is training to be a doctor, and the middle one is already a doctor.”  He raised his glass.  “It should be the other way round, don’t you think?  I should shield them.”  Ignoring all his resolutions to stay sober, he took a good swig from his wine glass.  “It doesn’t matter, you know.  I get annoyed about it sometimes, but I’ve accepted it, and go my own way.  It’s a long time since I’ve been back.”

“Still, it must hurt.  They sound very strict.”

God, he was such a shit to do this to her.  “Staunch pillars of their church, though not a church I recommend.  ‘The Free Kirk, the wee kirk, the kirk without the steeple, the auld kirk, the cauld kirk, the kirk without the people,’” he quoted bitterly.  “The community thinks my parents are wonderful.”

“They won’t like me much, then.”

Rory froze, then forced himself to act naturally.  This might be when she confessed.  Damn it, he must stop thinking in terms of the law.  He could rush in and deflect whatever she might say, or he could wait and see where her thoughts led her.  He smiled in what he hoped was a nonchalant way, and sipped his wine.

When she looked up, her mouth held a downward curve.  “In fact they won’t like me at all, because I’m illegitimate.  Jonny says—”

Tears stood in her eyes, ran over and spilled down her cheeks.  She clapped her palms to her face and inhaled sharply.

“Melissa?”  Now that she was talking, part of him didn't want to hear what she might say.  Serves yourself right, Rory.  “What is it?"

“You’ll hate me, I know you will.”  Tears thickened her voice.  “Seeing ghosts was bad enough, but…”

“Melissa—”

She shook her head violently, mumbled something through her fingers and broke into racking sobs.

At the sound, something crumbled into little pieces inside him, and his throat closed.  He couldn't speak, so he rose to his feet and dragged her into his arms.  He pressed her close, absorbed her shuddering sobs and wrapped both arms about her slender figure.  In little more than a minute, the gulping sobs dwindled and died to fine tremors.  Standing so closely entwined, he absorbed them.  Slowly, little by little, she relaxed and buried her wet face against his chest.

Moments passed.  He laid his cheek against the top of her head and swayed slightly, not thinking, but simply enjoying her closeness.  The lemony scent of her hair rose into his nostrils, and he breathed deep.  His hand rose to the nape of her neck, and with his fingertips he gentled her, soothing the skin over and over.  Her fists, knotted against his shirt-front, slowly opened.  One at a time, they slid down his chest and curled about his waist.

The tension coiled in his gut since Jonny’s call disappeared, leaving him with a faint smile as he stared off into the bright green foliage.  He held her, comforted her and did nothing to disturb her.  Gradually her breathing slowed and tension returned to her body.

“Rory?”

“Yes?”

“You did hear what I said, didn’t you?”

“I did so, and it’s not important.”

“Will it…will it matter?”

“Not to me.”

Her arms tightened about him and he rejoiced through to his bones.  A soft sigh escaped her.  Her head moved on his shoulder.  “Really?  Are you sure?  What if your parents disapprove of—”

“They have nothing to do with it.  Believe me.”

Her head came up by degrees.  He waited, saw doubt chase through her pansy blue eyes.  “Even though I’ve never met my father?”

“That’s hardly your fault.”  He nudged a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

She bit her lip.  “No.  My mother made me promise.”  Her brows drew together and her mouth twisted.  “I’ve broken a promise to her now, by telling you.”  A stray tear wandered by her mouth.

Compassion tore at him, made him dip his head and kiss the hurt away.  “She didn’t want you to know him?”

Melissa shook her head.  Her hands kneaded his back.  “No.  He was engaged to someone else.  She knew it, said she wouldn’t wreck two people’s lives because she’d forgotten to take the pill.”

“A courageous decision.  But fairly tough on you.”

She raised her head at his words.  “Yes.  It was.”

Moving so very slowly that she could evade him with ease if she chose to do so, Rory touched his lips to hers.  Nothing sudden, nothing startling, nothing more than a simple meeting of lips.  She didn't back away, didn't start in surprise but remained in his arms, and her mouth moved gently beneath his own.

Even so, passion stirred, which Rory struggled to control.  Sweeping her off to the bedroom would be a huge risk, unless she wanted him to, but she had given no hint that she did.  She put her arms around his neck, but he was so tall that she had to stretch up on her toes.

Her fingers skimmed his cheek, and he pulled back to give himself the pleasure of looking at her.

“You are so tall.”  Her voice was a throaty murmur he found exciting.

He grinned and glanced over her head.  “Sorry.”

She didn’t draw away from him, but tilted her head and pressed closer.

His heart thudded an extra beat, and steadied on a higher rhythm.  “We could try and even things out.”

“How do you mean?”

“By sitting down.  Not a problem then.”  He stood still, and waited.  The decision must be hers.

Her wonderful eyes studied him.  Her index finger found his mouth, skimmed across his bottom lip.  “You know, that might be a good idea.  My knees feel most peculiar.”

He grinned, started forward.  Then stopped in case his eagerness was rushing her.  “You’re sure?  We can sit out here if you’d rather.”

She shook her head, smiling, and took the first step toward the shadowy cavern of the living room.  His heartbeat increasing with every step, he followed her into the hallway.  When she turned into the bedroom, his heart leapt into his throat for an instant.  Please God don't let her change her mind.

When she reached the bed, she turned into his arms and reached for his mouth.

He held her warmth in his palms, drew her closer, slid his hands beneath the loose blouse and discovered the smooth channel of her spine.  She quivered, clutched him with her small hands and found the buttons on his shirt.

He ducked, tasted her throat, praying that she wouldn’t back away.  His fingers discovered the waistband of her skirt and eased it away so it fell, with a whisper of sound, around her feet.  Her swift intake of breath echoed it.  In moments, his shirt joined it, and he deepened the kiss as she got one knee on the bed.