Moon Witch

by Anne Mather

  'Oh, Jarrod!' Lauren's voice was reproachful. 'Is that necessary?'

  'I'm afraid so, darling,' Jarrod replied mockingly. 'There's a meeting tomorrow of the stockholders, and as we've speculating over this deal with Man-sons, the American synthetics group, I think I ought to attend and show confidence in their backing.'

  Lauren made a face at him. 'Honestly, Jarrod, you've only been back from the West Indies two weeks, and already you're involving yourself right up to your chin. Heavens, the place ran on its own while you were away. Surely you could have waited until the beginning of next week to take up the reins? There's the Hunt Ball on Saturday, and you know you promised to take me. After all, this is your home, and you should show some interest in county affairs!'

  Jarrod was prevented from replying by the arrival of Morris who announced that lunch was ready. They ate in the morning-room, which opened off this small lounge. Seated round a small circular table, it was quite an intimate meal, and Sara half-wished they had been sitting at more distance from one another, as such close scrutiny made her nervous, and she fumbled her cutlery, and once dropped a spoon on to the carpet. The meal, a melon cocktail followed by mixed grill and strawberry mousse, was delicious, and even her nervousness could not prevent Sara from enjoying it. She was relieved also that Jarrod was leaving for London the same day. It would give her the opportunity to become orientated to her new surroundings before his return.

  When lunch was over, and the men and Lauren were having liqueurs with their coffee, J.K. said: 'This afternoon I'll give you a guided tour of inspection, Sara. I think you'll enjoy that.'

  'Oh, I will!' Sara's face lit up. 'I've never seen outside at all. Both times I've been here it was dark when I arrived.'

  Lauren looked bored. 'My dear child, on a cold, foggy January afternoon, I should have thought a seat by the fire would have been more your milieu!'

  Sara's cheeks burned. 'There isn't much fog now, Miss Maxwell,' she said defensively. 'But of course, if J.K. doesn't want to venture out----'

  'Nonsense!' exclaimed J.K. 'Of course we'll go out. I want to show you the stables, and Daviot, my man, will teach you to ride in the near future. You can't ride, can you?'

  'Well, I've been to riding school with some school friends a couple of times,' said Sara, 'but I didn't get very expert.'

  'Good!' J.K. rubbed his hands together. 'Good. At least you won't be a complete novice.'

  Jarrod rose to his feet. 'I can see you are going to have plenty with which to occupy your time, Sara,' he said sardonically. 'As my father seems to have attained his second childhood, you should be good company for one another.'

  Lauren laughed a little behind her hand, and then she rose too. J.K. didn't seem at all disturbed. 'You're perhaps jealous, eh, Jarrod? After all, it's time you were married, with children of your own. It's a pity you're so busy all the time. You miss a great deal of enjoyment that way.'

  Jarrod shrugged. 'You think Sara would like me as a father-figure?' he asked lazily. 'I'm sure she ought to have some say in that.'

  Sara bent her head, wishing they would not argue in front of her. 'I think you delight in mocking me, Mr. Kyle,' she said candidly. 'But so far as seeing you as a father-figure is concerned, I'd rather not see myself playing Trilby to your Svengali!'

  J.K. gave a delighted chuckle, and even Jarrod smiled. 'Touche!' he said, giving her a slight bow, and then he looked down at Lauren. 'What are you going to do now?'

  Lauren sighed. 'Ride back to Hazeldene, I suppose,' she replied shortly, rubbing her nose with a slender finger. 'Unless, you've got any other ideas?'

  Jarrod shook his head. 'Not right now, Lauren. Look, I've got to get back, but I'll try and make it for the ball on Saturday!'

  'You will!' Lauren's eyes were round. 'Oh, darling, I could hug you!'

  Jarrod looked cynical. 'Don't bank on it, Lauren. Just leave it open. I'll ring you some time Saturday, and let you know what's going on I'

  And with that she had to be content. Jarrod left the room to get ready to leave, and she followed him, wishing J.K. goodbye, and giving Sara a rather taunting departing smile. Sara relaxed after they had gone, and J.K. said:

  'What's wrong? Lauren rub you up the wrong way?'

  Sara got to her feet restlessly. 'Something like that.'

  'Never mind. Jarrod's the attraction here. When he's away we seldom see her, so don't be alarmed. She's all right, so long as you don't let her get the upper hand. If she thinks she can sit on you, she will, but somehow I think she's realised you're not the timid mouse she thought you!'

  Jarrod left soon after, roaring away in the green Ferrari. 'He'll kill himself with those cars one of these days,' said J.K. gloomily, as the car disappeared down the drive. Then he forgot his anxiety in the enjoyment of showing Sara his domain.

  There was so much to see that Sara almost grew tired of exclaiming at things. The house itself, with its lounges and dining-rooms, studies and library, bedrooms and bathrooms, all exquisitely appointed, and beautifully warm from the powerful central heating system, was the first item on their agenda, and Sara was even allowed into a strong-room that J.K. had had added to the building to house his collection of pictures. Although Sara found some of the pictures pleasant to look at, she couldn't see any point in collecting something and then locking it away out of sight of everyone, but she refrained from offering her opinion. The objects in the glass cases were much more to her liking, although she trembled when she held an almost priceless piece of porcelain in her hands. There was a jade chess set that really charmed her, and J.K. said:

  'I don't suppose you play, do you, Sara?'

  She smiled. 'As a matter of fact I do. Although not very well,' she continued. 'Grandfather and I used to play every week. He loved chess.'

  'Yes, I know. He and I used to play many years ago.' J.K. sighed. 'Very well, then. We shall make one evening of the week our chess evening, right?'

  'Right,' she laughed.

  Outside he showed her the stables. There were several horses, a powerful hunter called Apollo, two mares, Persephone and Athena, and a white stallion called Alexander. 'Do you like the predominantly Greek sound to their names?' J.K. asked smilingly. 'I chose them. Jarrod and I spent several months in Greece a few years ago, and I became quite obsessed with mythology.'

  Sara stroked Athena's nose. 'I adore mythology myself,' she confessed. 'Those marvellous stories of Homer!'

  J.K. seemed pleased. 'It's like I said, Sara. We've got plenty in common. In the spring we'll go to Hellenus, and you can see the islands for yourself.'

  'Hellenus?'

  'It's an island in the Aegean. I have a villa there. We can spend some time cruising in the area if you'd like to.'

  'Oh, J.K.!' Sara shook her head. 'Are you sure? I mean--my being here. We've never discussed it today.'

  'What's to discuss? I wanted you here, and truthfully, you wanted to come.'

  'Yes,' Sara nodded, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her coat. 'Yes, I wanted to come, but not for the reasons Jarrod imagines.'

  'To hell with Jarrod and his reasons. He has a mercenary mind. Besides, he's got so used to fighting his way around the concrete jungle of big business that he's forgotten there are honest, decent people left in the world.'

  Sara shrugged her slim shoulders. She didn't want to discuss Jarrod Kyle. She didn't want to bring his disturbing presence back, and yet deep inside her she had an awareness of him, a kind of warning system that told her it would not be so simple to shed all thoughts of him. There was something about him, something that aroused her anger and her sensual system all at once. It was a sensation she had never before experienced. Certainly, she told herself with some vehemence, it was not a sexual thing. She was not without some knowledge of men. Her grandfather had seen that she was fully aware of the dangers of promiscuity from a very early age, and at seventeen she had had several youthful encounters, dates with boys, and the usual kind of gentle embraces most girls of her age had experienced. Jarrod
Kyle was entirely different from that. Her grandfather had told that love was a warm, gentle emotion that one knew immediately was different from casual encounters. The hot, passionate violence displayed on the television screen when men and women made love was not of a lasting variety, and should be avoided at all costs. Too much kissing and petting was dangerous, and a girl should keep herself pure for her husband. All this her grandfather had told her. What he hadn't mentioned was the hot flush that seemed to spread all over her body when Jarrod Kyle made fun of her; the awareness of her own vulnerability in his presence; and most of all the knowledge that he could terrify and excite her all at once, making her totally aware of him.

  J.K. was watching her with narrowed eyes. 'Now what are you thinking?' he asked.

  Sara flushed, shaking her head. 'Nothing of importance, J.K.'

  Later, back in the lounge having afternoon tea, J.K. said: 'Tomorrow we will drive into Leeds. I have a mind to see you in some decent modern young clothes.'

  Sara stared at him. 'Oh, but I have other clothes,' she exclaimed. 'But before lunch I was so distracted by the mirrors in the bathroom that I didn't give myself time to change.'

  J.K. shook his head. 'No, Sara, that won't do, my dear. Now, let me tell you something, without you taking offence. Your clothes are nice, and obviously the best your grandfather could afford.' He coughed a little. 'But you must understand, Sara, no matter how uncomfortable my words may sound, you're going to be meeting people with a great deal of money and influence, who will expect you--as Jarrod's ward--to be suitably attired. By suitably attired, I mean in clothes fitting to your position.'

  Sara swallowed. 'But--but I have no real posi-

  tion!' she said

  'On the contrary,' J.K. sounded annoyed, 'of course you have a position. Regardless of what Jarrod may say or do, you are to be treated here as the daughter I never had. My dear, I always wanted a daughter, but in the beginning Helen couldn't, and then later--she wouldn't! What could I do?'

  'You could have adopted a child,' said Sara thoughtfully.

  'I know, I know. But that wouldn't have been the same. My dear, you may not believe this, but I was very fond of Jeff Robins. He and I didn't see anything of one another in latter years, but I didn't stop remembering him, and obviously he still remembered me."

  'In this way,' said Sara dryly. 'He unloaded his granddaughter on to you!'

  'Oh, don't be bitter!' J.K. sounded angry now. 'Sara, for heaven's sake, I believe you're allowing Jarrod's attitude to play some part in this. I have taken Jarrod's place, if not in law then in fact, and there's nothing he can--or wants to--do about it!' He sighed. 'Give him the credit for a little decency, Sara. There are thousands, no, millions of people who depend on him for their livelihood. If, in the course of his job, he has become hard, then that's how he should be. You couldn't have a man in Jarrod's position who went around listening to every sob-story thrown his way. Yours was an exceptional case, but only to me! To Jarrod, you were just another unwanted responsibility.'

  'I suppose so,' murmured Sara, pouring J.K. a second cup of tea, and helping herself to a hot scone.

  'Can I ask a question now?'

  'Of course. You're entitled to ask anything you like.'

  'Then--what is Jarrod's relationship with Miss Maxwell?'

  'Lauren?' J.K. smiled. 'I thought that might intrigue you. Lauren has known Jarrod for years, as I told you. She's younger than he is, of course, but there's never been anyone else for her since she met him.'

  'I see. And Jarrod?'

  J.K. lay back in his chair. 'Jarrod! Hmn! That's quite a question you've asked there, Sara. Jarrod is quite an unknown quantity, even to me.' He frowned thoughtfully. 'In London there's a girl called Tracy Merrick. Her father is a doctor in Harley Street, a psychiatrist, actually. She's a fashion model, free-lance; seems to have plenty of free time, if you ask me. Anyway, she goes everywhere with Jarrod when he's in town. She's been here a couple of times, and she and Lauren eye one another up like cats before battle commences! Jarrod seems to like both of them, certainly they both want him, but I honestly don't think he's ready to make a choice yet. He's thirty-five this year. He ought to be thinking seriously of marrying and having a family, but he likes his freedom too much. He was in Jamaica for six weeks over Christmas and New Year, staying with Helen--his mother, you know, and if he'd been keen on either one of them you would have thought he would have taken one with him. But he went alone, and Lauren went to Switzerland with her parents instead.'

  'I see.' Sara bent her head. 'And which do you

  prefer?'

  J.K. put his cup back into his saucer. 'Well, naturally I know most about Lauren, so you could say I'd prefer her, but I don't know which of them will make him happy. Tonight, for example, he'll arrive back at his apartment--you must go there some time, by the way, it's really something, and he'll change and ring Tracy, and take her out to some blasted nightclub, and be out till all the Godawful hours of the morning, and then take a couple of hours' sleep before attending that meeting of the shareholders, in the morning. Some life he leads!'

  Sara couldn't suppress a small smile. 'You sound jealous,' she remarked dryly.

  J.K. laughed. 'Dammit, I am!' he said cheerfully.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ON Friday, they did as J.K. had suggested and drove into Leeds. There was an exclusive ladies' dress shop there called 'Martelle' and it was here that J.K. told the chauffeur to take them. Small and insignificant outside, inside was a world that Sara had never even known existed, outside of London perhaps. J.K. knew exactly what he wanted, he had good dress sense, and the teenage styles at present in vogue suited Sara's slim, yet rounded, body to perfection. Her chestnut colouring looked best with vivid colours, bright reds and blues, greens and yellows, and some of the more subtle colours like a dark shade of mustard, and a deep purple. Sara, trying on dresses and slack suits, assumed they would buy two or three outfits, but J.K. had more ambitious plans. He bought everything he liked her wearing, including two slack suits, day dresses and more exciting styles for evening wear, a thick mohair coat with a half belt at the back and a Swedish lamb car coat with slits up the side, pants and blouses, cardigans and sweaters. Sara protested when she saw the ever-increasing pile of parcels, but J.K. was enjoying himself, and she realised that some of what Jarrod had hinted might conceivably be true, so far as J.K. was concerned. She was a novelty to him, but sometimes they wore off, she thought with some misgivings.

  Later they visited a shoe shop and she was sup-

  plied with several pairs of shoes and slippers, and a pair of knee-length soft leather boots which hugged her slender legs. By now, Sara had given up protesting, and a little of her enjoyment had gone out of the day.

  Then it was home for afternoon tea, and later dinner, just the two of them together. Sara preferred J.K. at home; there he was just a kind, amusing companion, and she could forget the differences in their backgrounds. And yet her background was now the same as his, which troubled her some.

  On Saturday morning Jarrod phoned to say he would not be able to make it for the Hunt Ball. J.K. had mentioned the event to Sara, but she had not showed any great interest. She did not feel up to being taken to an event like that, and paraded in front of all the interested eyes of the neighbourhood. She was in the room while J.K. was speaking to Jarrod, and he was annoyed.

  'What's stopping you, Jarrod?' he asked bluntly. 'You know damn nicely Lauren is expecting you to take her!'

  Jarrod replied, but Sara could not hear his actual words, and J.K. gave an angry exclamation. 'No, not at all. Sara doesn't even want to go!' he bellowed.

  Sara felt the trembling sensation beginning inside her that she had noticed a lot lately, and the blood surged to the surface of her skin. So that was why he wasn't coming back: because he thought he might be saddled with her as well as Lauren. She felt furiously angry and upset. How dare he imagine she would expect him to escort her!

  J.K. slammed the phone down after a
few minutes, and then crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a stiff Scotch. 'Well, to hell with him!' he muttered to himself, and Sara shed her own disturbances, and said :

  'What's wrong, J.K.?'

  'You must have heard! He's not coming back for the ball. He practically promised Lauren he would!'

  'Is he--is he working?'

  'No! That's the devil of it! He's going to Monte Carlo for the weekend with Foster Merrick!'

  'Foster Merrick?' Sara frowned. 'Who's he?'

  'Tracy's father,' muttered J.K., pouring himself a second whisky. 'Oh, no doubt Tracy is going as well, but Foster is only about ten years older than Jarrod and they're good friends.'

  'I see.' Sara felt an awful sick tightening of her throat. She ought to have realised that a man like Jarrod Kyle was far more likely to spend his time out of the country than in it, and the kind of entertainment he demanded would be more exciting than a county hunt ball. She supposed he was what her grandfather would have called a member of the 'jet set', and yet at times she had found herself liking him because he made her feel secure. That was a laugh, really! How could a man like that care for security? 'Er--my name was mentioned,' she murmured now. 'What was that about?'

  'Huh!' J.K. grunted. 'He suggested I go and take Lauren myself. As if she'd want to go with an old dodderer like me!'

  'Oh!' Sara twisted her fingers together in her lap. So much for her imaginings. He obviously didn't even think about her at all, in any connection. She was just a kid his father had taken a fancy to, and who had practically been thrust into their hands. She was the stupid one, even imagining that he might see her as something more than a nuisance!

  'Do you want to go, then?' asked J.K., taking her silence for something else.

  Sara gasped. 'Me! Heavens, no! I told you, J.K., I'm happier here!'

  'All right!' he shrugged. 'Well, I think I'll go and have a bath before dinner. See you later, my dear.'

  After he had gone, Sara walked over to the radiogram, opening it and taking out an armful of records. There were plenty of her favourites there like Sammy Davis, Dave Brubeck and Dean Martin, and she thought it would be pleasant just to pick and choose with only herself to please. She put on an L.P. of Dean Martin, fast, beat music that made her swing and sway in time, forgetting for a moment just where she was. She was lost in a world of her own when J.K. returned, and he leaned against the doorpost watching her for a few silent minutes before saying: