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Authors: Anne Mather

Stormspell (28 page)

BOOK: Stormspell
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'Ruth!'

Aunt Davina sounded a little impatient now. and Ruth endeavoured to compose herself. 'I'm sorry. Aunt Davina,' she apologised hastily. 'I—I thought you'd be resting.' She took a deep breath. 'Good afternoon. Mr Crown. How—how kind of you to call.'

Dominic's mouth compressed at the conventionality of her greeting, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement, and as Ruth was obliged to close the door and come and join her aunt on the couch, he resumed his position opposite.

'I was just asking Mr Crown to thank his mother for looking after you, Ruth.' Aunt Davina said pleasantly, glancing at her niece. She had had to be told what happened; Magnus had been far too inquisitive to be put off with anything less. 'But you know what young girls are like, Mr Crown,' she added, turning to him again. 'Always thinking of their figures. I'm sure Ruth doesn't have to worry on that account.'

'Aunt Davina!'

Ruth was embarrassed by her aunt's frankness, and even more so when Dominic remarked: 'You were saying your niece was brought up in the West Indies. Miss Pascal. I suppose that accounts for the darkness of her skin.'

Ruth was appalled that he could discuss her as if she wasn't there, but Aunt Davina was unperturbed. 'That's right.' she nodded. 'Mv brother-in-law bought a small island out there, but he died recently.

so my son and I quite naturally invited her to come to England and make her home with us.'

Dominic hesitated. 'So I imagine Miss Jason will know few young people in London,' he murmured, as if considering the point. He smiled. 'Perhaps I could arrange some introductions for her.'

Ruth's eyes widened at this further proof of his arrogance, and even Aunt Davina looked a little taken aback now. 'I'm sure you realise I appreciate your offer. Mr Crown.' she replied, rather stiffly, 'but my son and his friends have made Ruth feel at home, haven't they, my dear?'

'What?' Ruth's lips parted. 'Oh! Oh. yes.' She coloured. 'Yes. Martin's been marvellous!'

Aunt Davina's somewhat thin lips relaxed. 'So you see. Mr Crown, although it was very good of you to offer—'

'I'm sure we can compromise.' Dominic overrode her smoothly, and Ruth realised her aunt would not have the easy passage with him she had with other people. 'My fiancee and I are giving a party for some friends on Saturday evening. Perhaps Miss Jason— and your son—might like to join us. It's very informal. Just an excuse to drink wine, and enjoy some good music.'

'I don't know—'

Davina was in a cleft stick. Ruth could see. She obviously would have preferred to refuse his invitation. but the awareness of his background, and how useful his mother might be as an associate, caused her to hesitate.

'I'd have to ask my son. of course.' she said at last, and Ruth clenched her small fists.

'And me.' she inserted, rather rudely, so that Davina's expression quickly became reproving.

'It would be an opportunity for you and Martin to meet some new friends,' she declared tersely, and Ruth guessed that her cousin would jump at the chance. 'I—I'll ask him to let you know, Mr Crown. If you'll leave your phone number . . .'

'Of course.' Dominic pulled out his wallet and handed her a square of pasteboard. 'My card,' he said, with a wry smile at Ruth, and she felt the strength of his personality vanquishing her weaknesses.

'And now I must be going,' he said, getting to his feet, and Davina remembered her manners and raised her eyes from the card.

'I'll get Mrs Radcliffe to show you out,' she said, but Dominic forestalled her.

'Miss Jason will show me out.' he averred firmly, ignoring Ruth's expression of dismay. 'I shall look forward to hearing from you, Miss Pascal. Goodbye.'

Davina had little choice but to accept the situation. and short of being downright rude. Ruth could not thwart him. With a nervous smile at her aunt she preceded him from the room and ran down the stairs ahead of him. as if the devil himself was at her heels.

She opened the door for him, and stood aside for him to go out. but instead of doing as she expected, he took hold of her forearm and compelled her to accompany him out into the Mews. Only when they reached his car did he release her, and she stood indignantly, rubbing her arm and glancing anxiously at the upper windows.

'Don't alarm yourself.' Dominic commented dryly. 'Your aunt is unlikely to risk being seen peering down at us. Besides, what could she see? I was very discreet.'

'Discreet!' Ruth allowed all her pent-up emotion to escape in that low disapprobation. 'You don't know the meaning of the word! I don't know how you dared to come here, after—after coming here before. Didn't Mrs Radcliffe recognise you?'

Dominic sighed. 'Your housekeeper is an old woman, and it was dark when I came before. She wouldn't recognise me. And even if she thought she did. I should deny it.'

'Yes, you would, wouldn't you?' exclaimed Ruth bitterly. She expelled her breath unsteadily. 'Why are you doing this? What did you come here for?'

Dominic turned to face the car. turning his back on the house as he said quietly: 'To see you. of course. What else? How was I to know you'd be out taking driving lessons?'

Ruth shook her head. 'But you told your mother—'

'I know what I told my mother. However, I found I had to see you.' He shrugged, looking sideways at her. 'Have you missed me?'

Ruth's face suffused with colour. 'Missed you?', she gasped. 'How—how could I miss you? I—I don't know you.'

'You know me,' he insisted huskily, his eyes on her mouth. 'Oh. Ruth, come with me now. Let me take you for a drive. I need to talk to you.'

'No.' Ruth took a step back from him. 'You—you have no right—'

'Oh. don't preach to me about rights!' he snapped savagely. 'I know what's right and what isn't, and right now. I'm going quietly out of my mind!'

'Dominic!' She glanced behind her apprehensively. half afraid Mrs Radcliffe might come to see why the door had been left open, and overhear his impassioned words. 'Dominic, this is crazy!'

'Yes. isn't it?' he agreed, his long fingers curling tightly over the frame of the car door. 'I have to confess. I don't like it any more than you do.'

Ruth sighed. 'Dominic, you know I can't see you.'

'Why not?'

He was not looking at her, but at some point in the wall of the stables opposite, and she wished she was not so conscious of watching eyes.

'You know your mother wouldn't approve of this,' she said at last, and he turned to look at her then, his face twisting angrily.

'What the hell does my mother have to do with it?' he demanded. 'I'm over twenty-one. I don't have to account to anyone but myself!'

Ruth held up her head. 'So she told me.'

'What do you mean by that?'

She hesitated. 'She said—she said there were always girls in your life—'

'Did she?'

'—and that you were inclined to be reckless at times.'

'Really?'

'Yes.' Ruth swallowed convulsively, before continuing: 'But that—that you really loved your fiancee —I believe she said her name was Barbara Symonds —and that I shouldn't read more into your—your interest than there actually was.'

'The hell she did!' Dominic was incensed. 'And - you believed every word, I suppose?' He shook his head angrily. 'What if I was to tell you that the reports of my exploits have been vastly exaggerated?'

Ruth pressed her lips together. 'It's nothing to do with me.' she insisted, and heard his harsh intake of breath.

He said a word then that even she understood was not polite. It was just a short word, a succinct little ejaculation, that was brutally explicit, and her teeth ground together tightly in expectation of some further profanity. But it never came. Without saying anything else, he jerked open the car door and levered himself behind the wheel, and as she stepped back uncertainly, he started the engine and drove away with a viciously protesting squeal of the tyres.

It was incredibly difficult to turn then, and go back into the house. Climbing the stairs on legs that were still like jelly, she dreaded what Aunt Davina was going to say. and she felt too drained to argue with her after that exhausting scene with Dominic.

Aunt Davina, however, was in a curiously thoughtful frame of mind. Her eyes when they met Ruth's across the room displayed a vaguely worrying expression, and she was especially affectionate towards her niece as she offered her some tea.

'Did you have a good lesson, darling?' she asked, offering Ruth one of Mrs Radcliffe's home-made scones. 'I haven't had a chance to speak to you yet, what with that man turning up and everything.' She patted the girl's hand apologetically. 'You know. I was just about to go upstairs when he arrived, and I couldn't do anything other than offer him tea, could I?'

Ruth managed a mouthful of scone before replying. 'I'm sorry you were disturbed,' she murmured, rather awkwardly. 'I—I never imagined—'

'Of course you didn't.' her aunt reassured her warmly. 'I'm not blaming you. Ruth. It wasn't your fault. Obviously his mother was curious about you. and sent him round here to find out about us.'

'Yes . . .' Ruth hid her face behind a teacup, and her aunt went on:

'Really, he tired me out. Speaking with him was quite exhausting, didn't you think so? He's obviously used to getting his own way. Being an only son, I suppose.'

Ruth put down her cup. 'I thought you were saying he had a brother the other day.' she ventured cautiously. 'But he died.'

'That's right. I was.' Her aunt glanced at her quickly. 'Did the Crowns mention him to you?'

'Heavens, no!' Ruth made an expressive gesture. 'I—we—we didn't talk about personal things at all.'

'No. no.' her aunt nodded, 'of course you wouldn't.' She smiled at her niece. 'And now. somehow. we've got to extricate you from this party invitation.'

Ruth bent her head. 'Yes.'

'You don't want to go. do you?' demanded her aunt sharply, and Ruth quickly made her denial. 'I—I was just wondering what Martin would say,' she said evasively, instinctively choosing the right diversion. and Aunt Davina clicked her tongue.

'Yes. I know what you mean,' she said. 'Martin's bound to see this as an opportunity to become friendly with the circle the Crowns move in.' She sighed. 'We must just think of a way to avoid it.' She paused, then added thoughtfully: it might be a good idea if you and Martin went away for the weekend. You haven't had much time alone together since we came home, and I know he'd welcome the opportunity to have you to himself.'

Ruth coloured. 'Aunt Davina—'

'No, no. I insist. Young people need time alone together. And you and Martin—well, you know my feelings about that.'

Ruth licked her suddenly dry lips. 'Aunt Davina. I'm not sure—'

'What are you not sure about?' Her aunt frowned. Ruth shook her head. 'I don't know. I mean—not really. I like Martin so much, you know that, but—I don't know if I'm ready—'

'For a serious commitment?' Aunt Davina lifted her chin. 'No one's suggesting that you are. Ruth." She assumed a faintly injured air. 'Goodness knows. I don't want to rush you into anything. You've hardly had time to get accustomed to our ways yet—I know that. But. Ruth—' She broke off abruptly, and then continued again, more gently: 'I just want you to know that there are no two dearer people in the world to me than yourself and Martin.'

Ruth felt despicable. Aunt Davina had shown her so much kindness, flying out to the island, when her whole world seemed to have fallen apart, taking charge of everything, offering her a home, with the family she had never known she had. How could she disappoint her now. simply because a man she ought to loathe and despise was making demands upon her he had no right to make? What was wrong with her, that she allowed him this control over her? He had no integrity, no decency, no respect—either for her or his fiancee. It might be easier if she was married to Martin. That way. she would be beyond his reach once and for all.

She and Martin went to a disco party that evening, and as he made no mention of Dominic's visit, nor did she. guessing correctly that his mother had reserved that information. It was easier if she too put Dominic right out of her mind, but when they got back to the house she was reluctant to face the inevitable isolation of her own bedroom.

'Let's have some coffee.' she suggested, when Martin flung himself lazily down on to the couch in his mother's sitting room. 'I'll make it. You put on a record.'

Martin grimaced good-naturedly. 'Okay,' he conceded. dragging himself up again, and Ruth pattered down the stairs to the kitchen to plug in the percolator.

When she carried the tray upstairs, she found Martin had chosen a low rhythmic blues sound, and taking the tray from her and putting it aside, he pulled her eagerly into his arms. With her hands looped behind his neck, and his hands on her waist, they moved sensuously to the music, enjoying the freedom from restraint after the press of humanity at the party.

'Mmm. you smell nice.' Martin murmured, nuzzling her ear. 'What is it? Something I gave you. It must be. I only buy perfumes that turn me on.'

Ruth looked slantingly up at him. 'Do I turn you on. Martin?' she asked, unconsciously seeking reassurance after her doubts of this afternoon, and he cupped her face between his hands and brought his lips to hers.

'You know you do,' he said huskily, but there was no real passion in his kiss, and Ruth realised that Martin was simply not capable of strong emotions— about anything.

'You know you're very sweet,' he whispered, kissing her again, and Ruth tried to infuse his kisses with a little of the excitement she felt when Dominic touched her. 'I've known lots of girls, but none of them as sweet as you. I really think I've fallen in love with you."

Ruth drew back to look at him. 'Have you. Martin?' she asked, biting the lips he had just caressed. 'How—how do you know? How do you know when you love someone?'

'Hey. you know, you shouldn't be asking me that." he reproved her, tapping her nose with a playful finger. 'When you love someone, you just know. You don't have to ask. You think about them a lot. Mostly, all the time. You want to look after them, care for them, share your life with them. You want to be with them more than with anybody else.'

BOOK: Stormspell
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