by Lucy Gillen
"I—I remember you called her Sylvia," Isa agreed, and Toby's brows rose curiously.
"You saw her in the dress shop?" he prompted. "Am I supposed to read something significant into that?"
Isa shook her head helplessly, finding it harder
and harder to go on. That cool, ruthless gaze promised to extract the last ounce of satisfaction from her confession and she had never felt more defensively vulnerable in her life. "I recognised her," she went on. "I mean, I realised it was the same woman, and she was—she was telling the assistant that she had an appointment for lunch that she was anxious to keep."
"So?" The prodding was relentless and Isa began to rebel against it, even though she could see his reason for being angry.
"So, in the circumstances, I assumed it was you that she was seeing for lunch!" she said shortly. "I remembered how—how—" She waved her hands helplessly to indicate her meaning. "Oh, you know what I mean! I just couldn't see her being so smug about meeting anyone but you, that's all!"
Toby's eyes glittered and his mouth hinted at a smile as he cocked one brow at her. "I think I'm flattered," he told her quietly. "Although I don't take quite so kindly to the idea of being thought of as a double-dealer—like you're suggesting!"
Isa bit her lip anxiously, convinced at last that whoever it was that Toby had seen for lunch it had not been the mysterious Sylvia. "I thought you—I simply assumed that you preferred to take her to lunch instead of having to take me because your—because Lady Carmichael had more or less made you promise to," she told him in a breathless rush of words.
Toby said nothing for a second or two but looked down at her with a strangely unfathomable look in
his blue eyes, then he shook his head slowly, a hint of smile touching his mouth with that full, sensual lower lip. "I needed no prodding from Grandmama to take you to lunch," he said at last quietly. "As for standing you up in favour of someone else, you do yourself an injustice, Isa, you must know that, surely."
Isa's heart was thudding wildly in her breast and her head too was full of its pounding beat as she sought for some form of distraction to diminish the incredible feeling of excitement he aroused in her suddenly. She hastily turned and lifted the lid of the saucepan with her free hand and gazed down at the contents without really seeing anything at all.
"I—I really thought you had a previous appointment with Miss Newhurst," she said in a small husky voice. "And I—"
"Mrs. Newhurst, in fact," Toby interrupted softly, his eyes glittering. "You know what an unprincipled devil I am !"
Isa ignored the provocation he offered and merely shook her head. "I thought you'd left that message with the waiter rather than tell Lady Carmichael you didn't want to take me, when she was so insistent," she went on. "I didn't know—"
She bit her lip hard when he turned her back to face him, gently but insistently, and he studied her for a moment in silence, then smiled. "Did you really believe that?" he asked, and Isa nodded, her voice caught in her throat. He let go her arm and ran his fingers down the length of her flushed cheek and her neck, down to the low-cut neck of the blue
dress, a touch that shivered through her like fire as she fought with a sudden sense of elation that was quite uncontrollable.
"You little idiot!" he said softly, and an arm around her waist drew her close against him. His mouth just touched hers with that soft, teasing lightness she remembered had been a prelude to a much more passionate caress and she closed her eyes, not even pretending she objected.
Before the warm fierceness of his mouth could completely overwhelm her, however, the jangling sound of a bell shattered the quiet of the big kitchen as it had done before, and Isa started back guiltily. They both turned and looked up at the board above the door where the sitting-room bell jiggled back and forth insistently—then Toby laughed.
His laughter startled her almost as much as the sound of the bell had done initially and she stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, her heart pounding heavily and the first faint chill of realisation dawning on her when she saw the glittering look in his eyes as he bent and planted a brief, warm kiss on her mouth.
"Saved by the bell again !" he laughed, and shook his head. "I must do something about Grandmama's indiscriminate ringing of bells," he decided, and looked down at Isa again.
Her cheeks were hotly pink, but the brightness of her eyes owed itself to resentment rather than excitement, although her heart was still responding to that first wild surge of emotion he had aroused in
her. She turned back to the cooker, grateful for its heat to cover the reason for her colour, and the sound of his laughter was mockery to her sensitive ears.
"Shall I go and tell her that dinner's on its way?" he suggested from somewhere in the region of her right ear, and Isa nodded, not venturing a look at him.
"It'll be about ten minutes," she said, trying to steady a voice that sounded far too quavery for her liking.
She felt the warm pressure of his body against her back for a brief moment and his mouth gently brushed her neck, his voice warm against her ear again. "I forgive you for keeping me waiting," he murmured, and was turned and gone before Isa could deliver the retort that came instinctively to her lips. Watching that broad back disappear through the door into the hall, she shook her head impatiently as she turned back to her cooking,. Her vow to keep clear of men like Toby Carmichael, she thought ruefully, had already been undermined and there had been little she could do about it.
Although she had no way of being absolutely certain. Isa suspected that Toby had made little or no
effort to find a temporary cook-housekeeper to replace Mrs. Grayle since their discussion of the
matter some time ago, and the fact that her salary
for the previous month had been considerably increased suggested that he was satisfied with things
as they were. He had apparently chosen to ignore
the fact that she had said she did not want the post, even temporarily, despite an increase in salary, but she was not altogether surprised. Toby Carmichael was a man who just made things happen his way when they did not automatically do so.
She had casually mentioned that she was standing in for Mrs. Grayle to Chris Burrows once and he had been as indignant as if it involved himself, curling his strong hands into fists as if he would have liked to use them on the man he disliked so much.
That drive into town with Toby still rankled with Chris, although the fact that she had returned early and alone had seemed to please him despite the fact that he had no idea why. He was, Isa decided, a strange and complex man and not a very happy one, something she did her best to remedy without actually encouraging his declared love for her.
She still spent most of her free time with him, and she sat with him now beside the river, the trees behind them giving shade from the heat of the day and dappling the surface of the water with restless shafts of sunlight. It was always so peaceful by the river and Chris was an easy companion in certain circumstances like now.
She glanced at him now from the concealment of her lashes and remembered Lady Carmichael's opinion of him. To see him as self-pitying was possibly a harsh view, but she often saw signs of resentment in his manner which indicated a dissatisfaction with the order of things, and she regretted his inability to be content.
She had never mentioned that she knew he was a gardener-handyman and not a gamekeeper as he had claimed, but she suspected he must know that by now either Toby or Lady Carmichael must have enlightened her. It was something they never mentioned although Chris had once remarked that he enjoyed gardening, and the gardens were certainly a credit to him.
He looked comfortable and relaxed, as he usually was out there with her, and he reached out lazily with one hand and lightly touched her cheek. "You look so right here," he told her quietly. "You fit in perfectly with your surroundings."
Isa turned and smiled at him over her shoulder, her eyes heavy-lidded and lazy. "You told me that the very first t
ime I met you," she reminded him. "I thought it was rather a nice compliment."
"It's true," Chris assured her earnestly. "I simply can't imagine you as a town girl at all." A caressing hand gently brushed the hair back from her neck, stroking her soft skin lightly, as if just touching her gave him some aesthetic pleasure, and Isa instinctively closed her eyes on the sensation it created. "You're lovely," he whispered, and leaned across to kiss the side of her neck.
Suddenly and disturbingly reminded of Toby's kisses, Isa eased herself out of reach, and she heard Chris's sigh of disappointment with a twinge of conscience. It was so easy to hurt him, but she felt far too lazy and relaxed to have to suddenly cope with his inevitable follow-through if she did not discourage him.
"I'm sorry, Chris." She looked at him a little contritely. "But you know how I feel—I—"
"I know," Chris said shortly, and sat upright beside her, his hands clasped around his knees. He had that set, unhappy look on his face again and Isa felt so guilty about being responsible for it, but there was nothing else she could do if she was to be honest with him. "I'm sorry, Isa!" He stared straight out at the sparkling surface of the river and the knuckles of his clasped hands were white and taut. "I simply forget, that's all. Being out here with you, it isn't easy to behave as if I feel no more for you than I would any other girl."
Isa looked at the good-looking face for a moment, curious, suddenly, about his experience with other girls. She remembered those veiled hints of Toby's and wondered for the first time just what had been behind them. "Don't you have another girl?" she asked, as lightly as she could, and Chris said nothing for a moment.
He sat with his hands clasped still about his legs and gazed at the river, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, then he turned his head and looked at her squarely for a second before he spoke. "Hasn't Mr. Carmichael enlightened you?" he asked harshly.
Isa shook her head, already regretting her curiosity. "It seems reasonable that you'd have other girl-friends," she told him quietly. She laughed lightly and uneasily, as if it was of little importance. "I don't really know very much about you, do I?" she asked, and a shrug of his shoulders ad-
mitted it.
"I suppose not," he allowed, and looked down at his hands, a small frown drawing his brows together. "It's only fair, I suppose, to give you the full facts about me since I want to marry you."
Isa's heart skipped a beat at the casual mention of marriage, although she should have thought of that before. If he was as serious about her as he professed to be then he almost certainly had marriage in mind, it had simply not occurred to her until now.
"I—I hadn't thought about marriage," she confessed, and Chris looked at her with narrowed eyes.
"I can't think what else you thought I had in mind," he said.
"Oh, Chris, please!" She reached out with one hand and touched his arm, and immediately he covered it with one of his own, his fingers curling strongly over hers.
For several moments he sat like that, not looking at her nor at the river either now, but down at his feet, as if he needed to think without any sort of distraction. "There was a girl once," he said slowly at last. "I thought—I wondered if Carmichael had told you about her; it would have been just like , him to have done." When Isa made no comment, he went on, in the same quiet but rough-edged voice, not looking at her.
"Toby Carmichael was responsible for ending things with her," he said, the bitterness he felt betrayed in his voice. "She was pretty. Though not as lovely as you," he added hastily, "and for some
reason best known to him, he broke up our relationship—shattered the whole thing beyond repair, there was nothing I could do to fight him. Money always talks eventually, no matter who's involved."
Isa looked at him, not quite believing she heard him aright, although she knew him well enough to realise he wasn't joking. "Do you mean Toby—seduced her?" she asked, finding the words difficult to say, and Chris stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, his upper lip curled into a sneer of contempt.
"Good lord, no!" he said as if such a thing was unthinkable. "She was only a village girl!"
Something in his tone made Isa look at him curiously. He did not sound as if he was speaking about a girl he had once been in love with, which was what he was implying. There was a suggestion of condescension in the way he described the girl that fell strangely on her ears in the circumstances, and made her strangely uneasy.
"Then--how?" she asked, unable to stem her curiosity, and again she saw his lip curl in derision.
"He paid for her to go to a domestic college in London," he informed her. "I know it was generally thought that the old lady was responsible, but I know it was that—" He shook his head on whatever adjectives he had been going to use, and his hands were curled tightly into fists. "Her father worked for her ladyship for a time, so no one saw anything untoward in the girl being sent to college at her expense, but I knew better!"
"But why?" Isa asked, genuinely puzzled. "I
mean, why would Toby go to the expense and trouble of paying for the education of a girl he had no interest in?"
For a moment Chris did not answer, but she watched his gaunt, good-looking face through her lashes and saw the bitterness that made it so much less attractive. His mouth was tight and hard and his eyes narrowed as if he could still hate more easily than like the man who employed him. "He didn't like anyone else playing his game," he said at last in a taut and bitter voice. "Types like Toby Carmichael prefer to be the only fish in the pond!"
It was all too deep and confusing for Isa and she shook her head slowly as she plucked a stem of grass and put it to her mouth. "I don't profess to understand what it's all about," she confessed, and looked at him for a moment in silence. "I don't think I want to know either," she decided at last. "I don't like being involved in other people's personal affairs, Chris, and if it's all over between you and that girl—"
"It is!" he insisted harshly. "Long ago, Isa, believe me!"
She put her hand on his arm again, seeking to restore something of the tranquillity that had existed before the subject had been raised. "Then let's forget about it, shall we," she suggested, and waited anxiously while he considered the suggestion.
After a long moment of silence he bent his head suddenly and raised her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly to her fingers. "I care only about
you now," he said in a throatily emotional voice as he laid his cheek against her captive hand. "I love you, Isa, as I never have before, and I want to marry you!"
"But, Chris—" She bit her lip hard, anxious not to hurt him, to make him more bitter than he was about the girl he had mentioned, but seeing no other way if she was to keep things straight between them. "I—I can't marry you," she ventured, and looked at him anxiously. "I really wish I could say I will, but—"
"But you don't fancy marrying the servant when _you can have the master!" he guessed harshly, and Isa started back in surprise at the bitterness in his voice. Seeing her wide, unbelieving eyes, he was immediately contrite and turned and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against him as if by doing so he could erase those last angry words from her mind. "Isa, Isa !" he whispered against her ear, his hands stroking her shoulders anxiously. "I didn't mean that, my darling, I didn't mean it !"
Affected by his show of emotion, despite her surprise, Isa closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself to relax against him, although she made no other response. "There's nothing like that at all between us—Mr. Carmichael and me," she told him, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "You're wrong to suppose there ever will be, Chris."
For a moment he simply held her tight and said nothing, then he eased his hold on her a little and slowly held her at arm's length so that he could look into her face, a dark, brooding look in his grey
eyes that sent shivers of sensation down her spine. "You're wrong if you believe that, Isa," he said quietly, and gave her no chance to argue before he pulled her back into
his arms and rested his face on the softness of her hair, the depth of his sigh shuddering against her ear, as if he considered he had already lost her to Toby Carmichael.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Isa although she was reluctant to admit it even to herself, had been curiously disturbed by Chris's story of his romance with a girl from the village, and particularly by Toby's part in ending it. It was the latter that most puzzled Isa, for Chris had been so-adamant about denying the general supposition that Lady Carmichael had paid for the girl to go to a domestic science college that she felt bound to believe him. It seemed such an odd thing for Toby to have done for the reason that Chris implied—that Toby had been in some way jealous of his success with the girl.
But perhaps Isa's uneasiness in part stemmed from Chris's own attitude towards the girl when he spoke of her. He had sounded so condescending when he referred to her as 'only a village girl', as if the opinion was his own, for all he attributed it to Toby, and she could not help wondering just how close and how serious he had been about her.
It was hard to visualise Toby being so consumed with jealousy about his gardener's affection for the girl that he had decided to further her education simply to get her away from him. Toby had no cause for jealousy in any case, and particularly not about Chris.
There was no denying that Chris was a man of moods, and his attitude towards Toby was some-
times incredibly malicious that the wonder was he stayed on with a man he disliked so, but Isa valued his friendship and she believed he was as genuinely fond of her as he claimed to be. At the moment she could not see herself ever feeling strongly enough about him to entertain the idea of marriage, but she hoped they could continue their friendship.
As she often did on her half-day, Isa had hoped to see Chris, but he had forewarned her that he was driving into London on an errand for Lady Carmichael and would be gone most of the day. So, left in her own company and unable to think of anything more constructive to do on a hot sunny July afternoon, she decided on the spur of the moment to visit the one part of the estate she had not so far seen.
