Winter at Cray (18 page)

‘
I don
’
t see that it should matter to you,
’
she retorted, angry at being judged so selfish.
‘
Robert
’
s welfare is my business.
’

‘
And Robert
’
s, surely,
’
he argued.
‘
I like the kid and I
’
d hate to see him get a raw deal because you choose to hide on a desolate island.
’

‘
Berren is
not
desolate,
’
she argued angrily,
‘
and I
’
m not hiding. And—and you have no right to suggest that he
’
s getting a raw deal. Robert
’
s a happy child and he
’
s never wanted for anything.
’

‘
Except company of his own age,
’
he countered.
‘
He
’
d hate living in a city.
’
She was arguing, she realised, almost as much to convince herself as him.

His brows expressed doubt.
‘
Has he lived here all his life
?’
he asked.

‘
Yes, but—
’

‘
Then how do you know he
’
d hate it?
’
he asked.
‘
Because you think you would?
’

‘
I
know
I would,
’
she insisted stubbornly, and he halted her with a hand on her arm, turning her to face him and, remembering his visit to her bedroom when he had done much the same thing while arguing with her, she instinctively drew back away from him.

‘
You
don
’
t
know,
’
he insisted, his hands gripping her tightly.
‘
You haven
’
t tried for nearly five years. You
’
re just letting that stubborn red head of yours make your decision for you.
’

‘
Of course I use my head,
’
she retorted, trying to break his hold on her,
‘
and I
’
m not stubborn.
’

He laughed, his eyes mocking her efforts to break his hold on her.
‘
Oh no, not much you
’
re not! Why don
’
t you try using your heart as a guide for a change
?
Think about Robert and
his
life for once.
’

‘
For once!
’
She stared at him, too angry now to
care even if Robert overheard her.
‘I’
ve always thought of Robert, I
’
ve lived for him all his life, you
’
ve no fight to say that to me, you know nothing about me or Robert. You
’
ve no right to interfere in our lives. How can you know how we feel?
’

‘
Stop dramatising
!’
He shook her, none too gently, and she squeaked a protest.
‘
Stop acting like a spoiled child, for heaven
’
s sake
!’
He held her for a moment, her cheeks flushed red, not only
w
ith the wind, and she trembled like a leaf in his hold. So much, she thought ruefully, for her determination to stay calm and refuse to argue with him.

‘
Let me go
!’
She twisted her arms in an effort to be free but, as before, found it impossible.
‘
Let me
go
!
’

‘
As you like.
’
He sounded as if he cared neither one way nor the other and he dropped his hands just at the same moment that Robert decided to hurl his first snowball.

It found its mark, more by luck than skill, right above her left eye and she stood, stunned for a moment, her hands to her face with the already melting snow trickling icily down her face and into her neck.

The deep sound of laughter was the first thing that penetrated and she raised her head to glare at him resentfully.
‘
I
’
m sorry, Louise, honestly.
’
Laughter still danced in his eyes, though he did his best to make his face sober, and he held her again as if he feared she might fall over.

She shook off his hands again and brushed the snow from her face, hearing Robert
’
s childish crow of triumph, like an echo, from further down the hill.
‘
I
’
m glad you find it funny,
’
she told him, ignoring Robert
’
s laughter.

He took a large handkerchief from a pocket and began to mop her wet cheeks with it, holding her chin with his other hand.
‘
Bullseye!
’
he chuckled.
‘
You look like a one-eyed snowman.
’

‘
Thank
you!
’
She glared at him from her one clear eye.
‘
I could have been blinded.
’

He was still laughing, though he still sought to hide it.
‘
Oh, come on now, you
’
ll survive, don
’
t worry.
’

‘
You
’
re wet, Mummy.
’
Robert came running up to join them, anxious to have his marksmanship recognised.

‘
You be more careful next time,
’
Jonathan told him, before Louise could speak,
‘
you could hurt somebody.
’
He was still holding her chin, eyeing her face critically and Louise turned her head away, seeing Robert
’
s curious grin.
‘
Next time,
’
the lecture went on,
‘
aim lower down, or better still aim at me, I
’
m better able to stand up to it.
’

‘
O.K.
’
Robert ran off down the hill again, anxious to put the latter suggestion into action, and a moment later a large white patch appeared on Jonathan
’s
chest as another snowball found its target. He blinked his surprise for a moment, then bent to gather a handful of snow just as another missile whizzed past his left ear.

‘
You asked for it,
’
Louise told him unsympathetically as he brushed the snow from himself,
‘
don
’
t blame me.
’

‘I’m
not blaming anyone,
’
he said, sending a handful of snow towards the little figure only yards away.
‘
I try not to blame other folks for what I get myself into.
’

It was an uncalled-for jibe, Louise felt, and one which was typical of him. She glared at his turned back only a few feet in front of her and impulsively bent and grabbed a handful of soft snow, squeezing it into a harder ball before she threw it.

At that distance she could scarcely miss and she had the satisfaction of seeing it burst with considerable accuracy right on the back of his head, scattering over his shoulders before running wetly down his back and into his collar.

Robert laughed uproariously, his gloved hands clasped together delightedly, while Jonathan stood stock still for a moment. When he turned round, slowly, his brown eyes were glowing, as Robert
’
s were, but with something besides laughter and he moved swiftly towards her, too swiftly for her to evade him.

Her eyes were sparkling with a depth of laughter she had almost forgotten, triumph and apprehension mingled in one gesture as she clasped her hands in front of her like a child, half afraid of the consequences.

‘
Why, you little—
’
He held her arms tightly, pulling her close to him, the straight line of his mouth set tight, and she could feel the warm throb of his heart even through the thickness of winter clothing, as he held her there. Then suddenly he smiled.
‘
Touché
,’
he said softly, and bent his head towards her.

She held her breath for a dizzying moment, knowing she should have done more than simply stand so passively still, then she heard Stephen
’
s voice and saw the sudden glitter of amusement in the gaze that held hers.
‘
Damn
!’
he said mildly, and released her so that she stood, a little uncertain, her mind still spinning crazily with possibilities.

‘
Louise
!’
Stephen
’
s frown gave evidence of his opinion as he came down the hill towards them, the collar of his coat turned up against the bitter wind, his fair skin already reddened by it.
‘
Are you all right?
’
he asked as he drew level, and Louise turned, a little dazedly.

‘
Yes, Stephen, of course I
’
m all right.
’
She smiled at him and saw the brief, black look he sent Jonathan Darrell.

‘
We
’
re only playing snowballs,
’
Jonathan explained with deceptive mildness.
‘
Nothing worse, Mr. Kincaid.
’

Louise wondered if Stephen could possibly miss the edge of sarcasm on the title he was given and knew he had not when a moment later his frown deepened.
‘
Snowballs?
’
He raised a brow to lend emphasis to his doubt.
‘
I never knew a game of snowballs required the contestants to be in such close proximity.
’

‘
You
’
d be surprised,
’
Jonathan informed him blandly.
‘
Louise just scored a direct hit on my head and she
’
s rather proud of it.
’
Stephen looked pokerfaced at the achievement and did not even smile.
‘
Depending on how you look at it,
’
Jonathan went on, as if he did not realise he was making things worse,
‘
she was about to be punished or rewarded, she hadn
’
t quite decided which when you arrived.
’

It was near enough to the truth to be discomfiting and Louise bit her lip.
‘
You were—
’
Stephen began, and she interrupted hastily.

‘
Stephen, please don
’
t fuss so.
’

‘
But—
’

‘
Please
, Stephen!
’
For a moment he evidently considered that discretion should be the better part of valour, for he made no further comment, only his eyes conveying his dislike of the situation.

‘
Is it a good idea?
’
he asked a few moments later, when Jonathan and Robert had resumed hostilities.
‘
All this horse-play, I mean
?
Robert
’
s not used to such rough usage, is he
?’

‘
He
’
s all right,
’
Louise told him, unwilling to be instrumental in spoiling Robert
’
s fun.
‘
I don
’
t share his taste in friends, but he
’
s coming to no harm with a little rough-house now and then. Incidentally,
’
she added, before he could reply,
‘
you
’
ll be surprised to learn that you have a champion in Jonathan Darrell. He shares your opinion that I should leave Berren before Robert starts school.
’

He raised critical brows at the opinion and she wondered why she had been so rash as to tell him about it.
‘
You
’
ve discussed it with Darrell?
’
he asked.

‘
No, I didn
’
t exactly discuss it
,’
Louise denied.
‘
The opinion was offered.
’

‘
Blessed cheek
!’
Stephen glared down the hill at the man he disliked so much.
‘
He takes too much on himself, Louise. Just because Great-grandmama flatters him a bit, he imagines he has the right to interfere in purely family matters, it
’
s time he was put in his place—or better still, sent packing.
’