Witching Hour (17 page)

motoring to be rather more sedate.'

'Sedate,' he said, 'is not the word I would normally have associated

with you.'

'But then,' she said. 'You don't really know me, do you?

You've just made some hasty assumptions, and now you expect me

to fit in with them.'

'I think maybe we won't discuss my expectations of you,' he said

softly. 'They only seem to upset you.'

She was about to reply off the top of her voice that there was no

way in which he could upset her, but the denial would be so

patently untrue and ridiculous that she decided silence might be

more prudent.

She subsided into the depths of the passenger seat, staring at the

rows of dials and switches on the dashboard, and thanking heaven

that bravado hadn't prompted her to take up his challenge and offer

to drive the thing.

As he got in beside her, he asked, 'What are you smiling at?'

'I was just thinking,' she said. 'The day you came, I thought

perhaps you might have taken a wrong turning and driven straight

over the cliff instead. But in this car it probably wouldn't matter. I

daresay there's a button you can press which turns it into a jet

aircraft, like a souped-up Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.'

'I wouldn't count on it,' Lyall said drily. 'But let's not test it by

taking any wrong turnings on our way to Home Farm.'

He drove well. Morgana had to admit that to herself, albeit

unwillingly. There was no chance that the large animal that

seemed to purr so menacingly under the bonnet was going to run

away with them. She watched his hands on the wheel, the long

fingers, the well-kept nails, and remembered their touch on her

skin. The same control, the same expertise, she thought, and

resisted an urge to pull her jacket further round her body.

When they reached the Home Farm, under her directions, Lyall

drove under the archway and through the big yard to the stable

block at the back. Rob came hurrying to meet them, his smile for

Morgana warmly protective. 'Hello, love. Morning van Guisen.'

Lyall got out of the car and stood looking around him. He would

find nothing to criticise here, Morgana thought sharply, no scope

for conversion or improvement. The buildings were in good order,

neatly painted, and the yard clean and uncluttered. The stables

looked both cared for and prosperous, and she was glad for Rob's

sake that this was so.

Lyall was asking questions, of course, but this was understandable.

He was a businessman, after all, even if he wasn't very

knowledgeable about horses. And he seemed genuinely interested

in the cost of feed and the other overheads which Rob was

responding about.

'I hope you aren't thinking of starting a rival organisation up at

Polzion,' Rob joked, but it was only half a joke, because even in

the summer there wouldn't be enough people wanting riding

lessons or a day's hacking round the moor and lanes to justify two

stables in the area.

Lyall shook his head. 'On the contrary, I was considering whether

ultimately I couldn't put some further business your way.' He

turned to Morgana. 'Did your father never think of joining forces

with the stables and offering riding holidays on special terms?'

'No, he didn't,' she said with something of a snap. He knew as well

as she did that Martin Pentreath had been strictly in the amateur

league as a hotelier, and that such a potentially commercial idea

would never have occurred to him. But it wasn't a thing she

particularly wanted to admit.

Rob said with a slight lift in his voice, 'But I like the sound of the

idea. Perhaps we could discuss it some time.'

'Why not?' Lyall agreed. 'I shall be in the area on and off for the

next few months.'

Oh, would he? Morgana thought, smouldering. That wasn't the

impression he'd given previously. What had happened to the

whizz-kid tycoon, jetting all over the world?

And then Elaine arrived, looking like a glossy advertisement for

the latest in riding gear, and Lyall turned to greet her, a smile

curving his mouth, and Morgana realised that he might have a very

potent reason for wishing to remain in the neighbourhood for

longer than he had originally planned.

There was no edge to the way he was looking at Elaine, just frank

male appreciation for an extraordinarily attractive girl. Which she

was, Morgana thought, forcing herself to be fair. The trouble was

she knew it too.

She watched Elaine responding to Lyall's greeting now, like an

exotic flower opening its petals to the sun. It was a come-on, no

one could be in the least doubt of that, but subtly, gracefully done,

in a way best designed to flatter a man.

Morgana discovered with a sense of shock that her nails were

digging painfully into the palms of her hands. What was the matter

with her? she apostrophised herself slightly. It would be an ideal

solution for Lyall to become involved with Elaine. She belonged to

his world. She even went to the same parties. She was no village

maiden to be swept off her feet by the rich rake from the big city.

Any affair between them would be conducted on terms they both

recognised and accepted.

And I, she thought, would be off the hook. If he was fully

occupied with Elaine, then he certainly wouldn't bother with me,

and I could relax a little and get on with my life without having to

worry about this cat-and-mouse game he's been playing with me.

She should have been elated at the thought, or at least overcome

with relief, but there was only a kind of cold emptiness,

interspersed with a pain that was almost physical as Elaine put her

hand caressingly on Lyall's arm smiled up in his face.

Morgana thought in agony, 'My God, this is jealousy. But it can't

be. I can't allow it to be, because that would imply all sorts of other

things as well, and I'm not ready for that.'

Dimly she could hear Elaine murmuring something about .'terribly

flattered' and Lyall's voice, pitched low with that warm, sensuous

note in it. 'I couldn't keep away.'

She wanted to say something loud and ugly like, 'That must have

been some dinner party last night,' but instead she bit the soft inner

part of her lip until she could taste her blood. Something terrible

was happening to her, was threatening to take her over—

something she couldn't control, yet she had to, because otherwise

she would be on a path to total self-destruction.

Rob said in her ear, 'A penny for your thoughts.'

'Oh, they're worth far more than that,' she tried to speak lightly.

He smiled. 'I bet they are! But at least you still have your old home

to live in. He was telling my parents something of his plans for the

place last night, while he was waiting for Elaine.'

She said, 'It won't be our old home for very much longer. It will

soon just be the place where we happen to work. By the time he's

finished with it, I doubt whether it will be recognisable as Polzion.

In any event, I have no intention of hanging around to find out. He

wants me to remain for the first year, and I will, to make sure my

mother is settled and content, and then I shall go. Who knows, I

might even train for something, if it's not too late.'

'Of course it isn't too late.' Rob's face was suddenly serious.

'You're barely more than a child, my sweet.' He hesitated.

'Morgana, you don't have to go anywhere. You know that, don't

you? I haven't said anything because I felt it was too soon after

your father's death, but .. .'

'It is too soon,' she said gently. 'But thank you, Rob. Now, are we

going to look at this horse?'

There was plenty to admire when Bartram's Babe was led out of

his stall. He was a tall bay gelding, with powerful quarters, and

Morgana whistled as she looked at him.

'You utter beauty!' she exclaimed rapturously. 'Rob, have you got

some apple?'

Rob supplied the necessary titbit, and Bartram's Babe accepted

with delicacy and nuzzled her fingers, blowing on them gently and

coaxingly.

'You're a perfect gentleman,' Morgana told him, lovingly, running

her fingers down the long, intelligent head. She had. been going to

add, 'Unlike some I could mention,' meaning Checkmate, but she

stopped herself, because a remark like that under the

circumstances could be misunderstood, and besides, the germ of an

idea had flashed into her mind.

She looked at Rob, smiling brightly. 'And how's Checkmate? I

hope his handsome nose hasn't been put out of joint by the

newcomer.'

'Oh, he's surviving,' Rob said drily. They walked over to the

loosebox where Checkmate was waiting. He looked utterly docile,

but Morgana made no offers of apple. 'Carnivore!' she muttered

under her breath, as she clicked her tongue lovingly and

hypocritically at him, and Checkmate's velvet eyes looked back at

her with the expression of a horse in whose mouth butter would

have difficulty in melting.

'Another handsome animal,' Lyall remarked, coming up behind

them. Morgana looked swiftly at Rob who, she knew, was about to

say in cheerful condemnation, 'Oh, he looks all right,' and then go

on to list Checkmate's vices, and before he could utter she gave

him a hard but unobtrusive kick on the ankle. He gave her a look

of pained astonishment, but took the hint. When Lyall had moved

away again to speak to Elaine, who was still worshipping at the

shrine of Bartram's Babe, he hissed, 'What's up?'

'He might be—on Checkmate,' Morgana whispered back.

'No!' Rob said sharply, and she put a hand on his arm, looking up

at him limpidly.

'Oh, Rob, what harm would it do? We could go in the paddock, so

that at least he'd have grass to fall on. And only this morning he

was talking to me about his horsemanship,' she added, crossing her

fingers surreptitiously in her jacket pockets. After all, she argued

with herself, it wasn't really a lie. Lyall had been talking about

horses. All she'd done was place a rather different interpretation on

the conversation. 'Let's see how good he is. After all, Elaine

always said Checkmate could sort out the men from the boys.'

'I hope this isn't some hare-brained scheme to try and get him to

break his neck,' Rob said glumly. 'I haven't forgotten your lunatic

comments about him falling over the cliff.'

'No, of course not,' she said impatiently. 'I'd just like to see a little

mud on those immaculate clothes. Ever since he arrived at Polzion,

he's been calling all the shots, and I'd love to see him make a fool

of himself, just once.'

'Elaine would never allow it,' Rob said flatly.

Morgana shrugged. 'Does she have to know? If she went to make

some coffee, we could have a saddle on Checkmate in no time at

all. I'd help.'

Rob gave her a caustic look. 'Greater hate hath no woman,' he

observed. 'All right—you win, and if he's injured, you'd better pray

our insurance will cover it. I don't know what the going rate in

millionaires is these days.'

As if Fate was taking a hand, Mrs Donleven walked into the yard.

'Oh, there you are, darling,' she said to Elaine. 'The Templeton girl

has phoned. Something about a party, and she seems to think you

know all about it.'

'Yes, I do,' Elaine admitted rather impatiently. 'Can't I phone her

back?'

Mrs Donleven made a little helpless gesture. 'She seems very keen

to talk now. I did try to put her off, but . ..'

'Nothing puts off Lucy Templeton,' Elaine said resignedly. 'Right,

I'll come.'

'Why not make us all some coffee while you're up at the house?'

Rob called after her.

Morgana was afraid that Mrs Donleven was going to stay and talk

to Lyall all the time Elaine was away. She was far too discreet, of

course, to actually leap in the air for joy at the sight of him, but she

did shake hands, according him one of her least chilly smiles.

Morgana decided she was being unfair. Mrs Donleven wouldn't

have been human not to welcome the arrival of anyone as

attractive and eligible—and interested—in her daughter's life.

But there was no problem. Bartram's Babe began to toss his head

and sidestep, and Mrs Donleven was nervous of horses, even in

their predictable moments, and made haste to excuse herself and

return to the house.

Rob turned to Morgana. 'Well, love, do you want to risk your neck