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‘Don’t worry, I’ll be warm enough, Auntie,’ Rachel laughed. ‘Oh, there’s Richard’s car. Goodbye. Don’t wait up for me.’

‘That I shan’t,’ Aunt Rose retorted. ‘There’s no telling what time you’ll arrive home.’

Richard looked incredibly handsome in evening dress and Rachel couldn’t help wishing that she was to have been partnered by him instead of David McLeod, about whom she knew nothing at all.

They stopped for drinks at the McLeod farm and there Rachel met Moira’s brother for the first time. He was tall, almost as tall as Richard, and his carefully groomed hair, almost the same chestnut shade
as
Moira’s, hung thick and straight almost to his collar, with a fringe that he flicked back with an impatient gesture of his hand at frequent intervals. He wore square, gold-framed spectacles which gave him a studious, little-boy-lost look, although Rachel estimated that he must be aged around thirty.

There was open admiration in his eyes as they were introduced and he kept the hand Rachel
offered
him a shade longer than was necessary. She smiled at him and prepared for an evening of harmless flirtation.

Moira looked stunning. Her dress was of midnight blue, with a low halter neckline. She was wearing
her
hair piled on top of her head in a complicated style that must have taken her hairdresser hours to do. Round her neck she wore three ropes of pearls. With a pang of something approaching envy Rachel thought what a handsome couple she and Richard made as they chatted together over the drinks that David had poured.

When it was time to go Moira picked up her fur wrap and handed it to Richard to place round her shoulders. ‘Are you bringing your car, David?’ she asked, taking a last, satisfied glance in the hall mirror on the way
to
the door.

‘There’s no need. There’ll be plenty of room for us all in mine,' Richard said quickly. Rachel was glad, she wasn’t sure why.

The Midsummer Ball was the biggest event in Ardenbeg, apart from the Hogmanay celebrations. The ballroom at the hotel was gaily decorated with balloons and there were flowers everywhere. Even the musicians on the dais at the end of the hall were colourful in full Highland dress. It was all very festive. The big french windows all along one wall of the ballroom had been flung open and there were chairs and tables on the terrace for those who preferred to sit and enjoy the view of the loch and the distant mountains by moonlight.

David danced well, although Rachel wished he wouldn’t hold her quite so closely. As the evening wore on, even with the french windows open the atmosphere in the ballroom made her head ache.

‘Come out on to the terrace and I’ll get you a drink,’ he said, taking her arm and guiding her to a small table tucked in a corner behind a large, strategically placed cheese plant.

She sat down gratefully and looked out over the bay, watching the reflected lights from the shore and from the boats at anchor dancing in the restless water of the loch. Her home in Suffolk and the tragic events associated with it seemed light years away. She almost wished she would never have to return.

‘I can’t see Richard and Moira anywhere.’ David put two tall glasses on the table and sat down Reside her. ‘Not that I looked very hard,’ he added, grinning. ‘I’d far rather have you all to myself. Cheers! * He lifted his glass. ‘Now, tell me all about yourself.’

She shrugged. ‘It won’t make very interesting listening.’ Nevertheless, she found herself telling the man beside her all about Keith and the tragic way her hopes and dreams had been shattered with his death in the plane crash.

He listened, his eyes fixed on a point far out on the loch. ‘How long is it since the plane crashed?’ he asked when she’d finished.

‘Nearly seven months.'

He turned and looked at her, taking her hand in his as he did so. ‘That episode in your life is over; finished. Keith is gone and nothing will alter that. You can’t waste your life living with what might have been.’ He shook his head. ‘Nobody is worth that,’ he said vehemently, ‘But nobody. Life is meant to be enjoyed.' He pulled her to her feet. ‘I enjoy life. I’m doing what I want to do. My plays may not exactly set the town alight at the moment, but they will one day, you’ll see. Life in London is exciting. That’s where it’s all happening.’

‘But what about your farm? How do you manage to combine writing plays in London with running a farm five hundred miles away?’

‘My sister runs the farm. She runs it efficiently and well. She has the right people working for her and things are going exactly the way she wants them to.’ He brushed his hand across his forehead in a characteristic gesture. ‘Moira has always wanted the farm to herself and she’s got it—well, more or less, anyway. At least, she can run it as she chooses, I only put in the occasional appearance and I never interfere.’ He drained his glass. ‘You don’t know my sister very well yet, Rachel, but when you do you’ll realise that she knows what she wants and she usually gets it. A very determined woman, my sister.'

Rachel was silent for a while. David’s last statement seemed to have a warning ring, for some reason. She gazed thoughtfully at the loch and the mountains beyond, bathed in soft moonlight. ‘I still can t believe that you prefer the smoke and grime of London to all this ’ she shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s so incredibly peaceful and beautiful.’

‘Yes, it is beautiful,' he said softly. She looked up at his tone and found his eyes were not on the loch at all but on her. ‘Let’s dance.’ He took her in his arms and held her close to him. ‘Why waste time talking?’

He guided her across the terrace, between the other couples who were dancing in the open air and back into the ballroom. He really was charming, Rachel reflected; Moira had been quite right about her brother. And he was making no secret of the fact that he found her attractive; even now she could feel his cheek against her hair. Yet, for some reason, his attentions left her quite unmoved. What was wrong with her? Had Keith’s death robbed her of the ability to feel anything but pain ever again?

At the end of the dance Richard came over to them.

‘I think you can relinquish Rachel to me for one dance, David,’ he remarked. ‘You’ve monopolised her for the whole of the evening so far.’

‘Just one, then. After all, she is my partner for the evening,’ said David. ‘I’ll go and buy my sister a duty drink. Where is she, by the way?’

‘Gone to repair her make-up, I believe, although it looked all right to me.’ Richard took Rachel’s hand and drew her to him. He danced well, their steps matching perfectly, but Rachel was barely conscious that they were dancing at all. The effect on her as he took her in his arms had been immediate and shattering, making her senses reel and her pulses race. Never, ever, had anyone had this effect on her before. She stole a glance at him once, certain that he must be aware of the feelings he had aroused in her, but he was staring ahead, concentrating on guiding her round the crowded floor, occasionally catching her closely to him to avoid colliding with another couple. She, for her part, was only conscious of his body, lean and hard against hers, his arm circling her waist and his hand in hers. Nothing else was real, nothing else mattered. When the dance was over lie seemed to hold her to him for a brief second—or was it just her imagination?—before he looked down at her and asked, ‘You’ve time for a drink with me before I hand you back to David? He seems very determined not to let you out of his sight for long.’

‘Thank you, a long, cool drink would be nice.’ She hoped he would put her breathlessness down to the exertion of dancing and not guess its real cause.

He put his hand lightly under her elbow and guided her across to the bar, and although his fingers were cool his touch seemed to burn into her flesh.

She sipped the drink he brought to her gratefully and by the time David and Moira joined them a moment or two later had managed to regain a little of her composure.

The rest of the evening passed in a daze for Rachel. David was attentive and she managed to flirt mildly with him; yet always she was conscious of Richard. He didn’t ask her to dance again and she couldn’t help noticing the possessive way Moira clung to him. 'A very determined woman, my sister, she knows what she wants and she usually gets it!’ David’s words kept hammering through her brain. Yet she could see nothing in Richard’s attitude to Moira that was anything other than polite and friendly; it was quite plain that he was still too much in love with his dead wife to think of remarriage. But when he did Moira would be there, waiting.

Suddenly Rachel hated Moira McLeod.

After the Ball the four of them went back to the McLeod farm for coffee and then Richard drove Rachel back to her aunt’s house.

‘I hope you had a pleasant evening,’ he said as he pulled up outside the cottage. ‘You seemed rather pre-
occupied at times, I thought.’

Rachel caught her breath. Richard was too observant by far. She managed a light laugh. ‘I had a lovely evening, thank you. How could I help enjoying myself, in such pleasant company?’

‘Good. I must say you appeared to get on very well with David McLeod.’

‘He’s ... charming.’

‘He can be, when he likes.’ Richard got out of the car abruptly and came round to her side to open the door for her. She stepped out and as she did so she caught her foot in the hem of her dress and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her in his arms. She leaned against him, struggling to regain both her balance and her composure.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I caught my foot.:..'

For a brief moment she was held against him in a vice-like grip, then, suddenly, he released her. ‘You've forgotten your wrap,’ he said coolly, reaching beyond her into the car for her evening shawl.

‘Thank you.’ She took it from him and hurried into the cottage without a backward glance. One thing was certain, Richard Duncan must never know the shattering effect he had on her. That would be just too humiliating.

The lights were still ablaze as she let herself into the cottage. It was nice of Aunt Rose to wait up, but Rachel would have preferred to go straight to her room. She went slowly to the living room, trying to collect her thoughts as she went. Aunt Rose would be eager to hear about the evening, but all Rachel could remember was dancing with Richard and the feel of his arms around her. She pushed open the door.

‘Hullo, Auntie ....’ her voice trailed off. ‘Auntie, what’s happened?’

Rose was lying on the floor, a chair with one leg smashed off beside her, her face grey with pain. Rachel went and knelt beside her.

‘I think it’s my back,’ Rose s voice was barely above a whisper, ‘... curtain stuck ... got up to free it ... chair broke ... lying here hours....’ She tried a twisted smile. ‘Sorry, my girl ... spoiled your evening.’ She closed her eyes, exhausted from the effort of speaking.

Rachel damped a sponge and gently wiped her aunt’s face. ‘I mustn’t try to move you to try and make you more comfortable, dear, I could do even more damage. I’m going to ring for help. I won't be a minute.’

She got to her feet and went to the telephone in the hall to ring Kilfinan House.

Richard answered. He listened to what she had to say and then replied, ‘I’ll ring Archie Murdoch—he’s a personal friend of my father as well as a very good doctor. Then I’ll join you at the cottage.’

Rachel put down the receiver and went back to her aunt. She was almost unconscious from the pain in her back and Rachel felt completely helpless; there was absolutely nothing she could do to help Rose. She knelt beside her and took her hand. The older woman s eyes flickered open and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. ‘Glad you’re here, my girl,’ she whispered. Then her eyes closed again.

Richard arrived, full of gentle concern for his old nanny. This was yet another side to his character, Rachel discovered. Then Archie Murdoch came, a small, grey-bearded, twinkling-eyed man who seemed somehow to ease the situation by just being there. He examined Rose with infinite care.

Then, ‘It’s hospital for you, my lass,’ he said cheerfully. ‘All your limbs seem reasonably mobile, that’s one good thing, but until we can take some X-rays it’s impossible to tell what the damage is.’

A look of alarm crossed Rose’s face.

‘Don’t worry, lass,’ he smiled his puckish smile and was rewarded by an answering glimmer from Rose, ‘we’ll put ye right, but until we can take the pictures there’s no telling how long it will take. Now carefully,' he spoke to the ambulance men who had just arrived. ‘Don’t jar or twist her. That’s it, easy, easy now.' He turned to Rachel, who had taken the opportunity to slip upstairs and change into jeans and sweater while her aunt was being moved. ‘You’ll be going with her, young lady?’

‘Yes, of course.'

‘Good. I’ll follow in my car.'

The ambulance journey seemed an interminable nightmare; every bump in the road causing Rose to wince or groan in spite of the pain-killing injection Archie Murdoch had given her, and there was nothing Rachel could do but hold her aunt’s hand and watch helplessly. But at last it was over and they reached the cottage hospital at Dunglevin. Soon Rachel saw Rose comfortably established in a small ward with one other bed in it so she would have someone to talk to when she felt well enough.

By the time Rachel was ready to leave it was five a.m. She stood on the steps of the hospital, amazed that it was daylight, and realised, for the first time, that she had no means of getting back to Glencarrick.

Then a voice at her elbow asked, ‘Rose is comfortable? You’re ready to go home?’ and Richard, still in evening dress, was beside her.

‘Richard!’ She passed her hand over, her eyes in disbelief. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘I brought up the rear in the convoy. I followed Archie’s car following the ambulance.’ He smiled down at her sympathetically. ‘It was rather a rough ride for Rose, wasn’t it?’

She nodded.

He squeezed her arm gently. ‘She’s in good hands now. Archie Murdoch’s the best there is. There’s nothing more you can do. Come along. My car’s over there, I'll take you home, you look about all in.’

He spoke gently, almost tenderly, and as he led her to the car the tensions of the past few hours, coupled with weariness, overtook her and she burst into tears.