As she moved away from the balustrade along the edge of the terrace she slipped and looked down, grabbing one of the uprights to steady her. The snow was melting. Tentatively she poked the slush with a booted toe. It was thawing. As she registered this fact, she heard the plop of water behind her and looked up to see water dripping from a gutter along the roof on to a windowsill. Relief and anguish flooded through her in roughly equal proportions and she began to tread carefully towards the house to tell Murray that she would soon be able to go.
It was as she drew level with the bottom of the steps that the slight sound made her pause and turn her head in time to see the heavy window swinging out towards her. With a startled cry, she sidestepped, slipping as she did so, the grey sky tilting crazily above her before she hit the ground with a resounding thud, her head snapping back to hit the bottom step with a sickening crack.
The window swung slowly shut.
Chapter Five
The first sensation of which Annie was aware was nausea. Then, as she opened her eyes in panic, the pain in her head became paramount and a whimper of distress escaped her.
‘Lie still.’ Murray’s voice came from a long way away. ‘Relax, Annie.’
‘‘Murray?’ she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.
‘I’m here. How are you feeling?’
‘What a bloody silly question.’ She moved her head slightly and discovered a site of exquisite torture on the back of her skull. ‘What happened?’
‘I heard a noise outside and found you on the floor. You must have slipped and hit your head on the steps. The snow’s melting.’
‘I did.’ A sudden memory of that swinging window jolted into her brain. ‘The window ...’
‘Window?’
‘Was it open?’
‘What are you talking about? You didn’t fall out of a window!’ There was a note of relieved amusement in his voice she noticed, and cautiously opened her eyes. She was in the study and he was crouched beside her, a damp cloth in his hands.
‘What’s that for?’ she asked.
‘To wipe away the blood.’ He frowned. ‘I couldn’t see how bad the injury was because you were bleeding so much.’ A little of the colour left his face. ‘It was quite a sight ... blood on the snow.’
‘Yes.’ She closed her eyes again. She’d better not mention the window. ‘It’s not too bad, is it?’
‘I really don’t know. I thought you would probably be concussed, but …’
‘I’m fine. I just feel a bit groggy, that’s all.’ She shifted her position to see if she could sit up and discovered she couldn’t. ‘Just leave me here for a bit and then I’ll go upstairs and pack.’
‘What do you mean, pack? You aren’t going anywhere.’ She could tell from his voice that the all too familiar frown was back on his face.
‘But it’s thawing – you said so yourself. That’s – that’s why I slipped.’
‘So? It can turn into a heat wave out there but you’re not leaving. Not in this state.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Annie opened her eyes and squinted up at him towering over her. ‘I’m feeling better already.’
Murray snorted. ‘The only place you’re going is to bed and the only good thing about the thaw is that the doctor thinks he’ll be able to get up here.’
‘Doctor?’
‘Well, of course. You could have been badly hurt for all I knew. I was just lucky that he’d cancelled surgery and was out doing what visits he could because of the weather. Your next door neighbour’s bringing him up on his tractor.’
‘My – who?’ asked Annie weakly.
‘Nat Brown, who farms next door.’ Murray leaned down and brushed hair out of her eyes. ‘Comfortable?’
‘Fairly.’ Annie realised for the first time that she was on the old chaise longue she had noticed against the wall, covered with a thick plaid rug. ‘Did you carry me?’
‘Yes – would you rather I’d dragged you up here by your feet?’
‘No.’ She giggled weakly. ‘But I’m heavy.’
‘You’re not as light as a feather, I’ll give you that,’ he conceded, seating himself on the edge of the chaise longue. ‘But I prefer a woman well covered.’
‘I think that sounds like an insult.’ She wondered how they could be sitting here exchanging light banter under the circumstances and a hysterical laugh escaped her. Immediately, Murray’s hands were soothing her face, holding her hands.
‘Shush, Annie, calm down. You’ll be fine.’
‘I know.’ Her voice quivered and she nearly said but no thanks to your mother. The thought made her go cold and she shivered. Murray tucked the blanket more securely round her and stood up, going over to poke the fire that he had obviously just lit. It sent a protesting cloud of black smoke into the room. Witch’s smoke, thought Annie dreamily.
‘Annie!’ Murray’s voice was sharp. ‘Don’t drift off, now. You’re to stay awake – at least until Dr Graham comes.’
‘But I’m sleepy.’ Annie’s eyes floated shut. ‘I’ll be fine. Just leave me to rest for a bit.’
‘Wake up.’ He sounded close and Annie made an effort to open her eyes. He was close, right by her face, and she smiled.
‘I’m awake.’ She saw his gaze shift to her mouth and despite her discomfort she felt her stomach turn over with desire.
The sound of heavy machinery outside broke the spell and he got to his feet, peering over her head out of the window.
‘It’s Nat Brown and Dr Graham. I’ll go and let them in.’ He looked down at her, the frown back on his face. ‘Don’t go to sleep.’
No chance, thought Annie as she watched him leave the room, frustration gnawing inside her. She sighed, a tear of sheer self pity rolling down her cheek. What else could happen, for goodness sake? First of all the discovery of a legacy from a father she had never known, then a messy fight with his ex-wife and her son with whom she was now snowed in and finally an accident so that she couldn’t get away even when the thaw did allow her to go. And on top of all that, she had fallen for the arrogant and infuriating son.
Her heart gave a huge, hard thump before resuming an accelerated beat. The revelation was so overwhelming that her mind seemed to go into suspension, refusing to accept what her heart had known all along. Perhaps, she thought, fighting a rearguard action while her head thumped with renewed vigour, she was just mistaking the unaccustomed physical attraction for something deeper, but even as she thought it her brain resumed operations and rejected the suggestion.
At this moment, Murray himself reappeared and took in her heightened colour.
‘Annie. Are you feeling worse?’
‘Yes,’ said Annie truthfully and saw his worried frown as the man behind him gently pushed him aside and took his place at her side.
‘Go on, now, Mr Campbell. I’ll just check the wee lassie over and you can be away to your mother. Tell her I’ll pop in to see her in a while.’
Reluctantly, Murray left the room and Annie looked up at the stocky red haired man who was occupied opening a large black case on the desk.
‘Now, lassie. What happened to you? Slipped on the snow, Mr Campbell said.’
‘I think so.’ Annie watched him manipulating stethoscope and blood pressure apparatus. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Och, well, it’ll come back to you. Treacherous stuff, snow.’ He busied himself taking her blood pressure and examining her eyes and testing her reflexes.
‘When will I be able to leave?’ asked Annie as he carefully parted the hair on the back of her head and clicked his tongue.
‘Leave? Were you planning on going somewhere?’ He paused in the act of removing dressings from his case.
‘Yes, home. I’ve got a business to run.’ It was near enough to the truth, after all. Dr Graham grunted and applied all his concentration to cleaning and dressing her head, finally concluding his examinations and allowing her to sink thankfully back against the cushion.
‘I thought you were ...’ he stoppe
d and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Well, never mind. I wouldn’t go anywhere for a few days if I were you. I can’t see any signs of concussion – pupils are fine and your responses are just dandy – but all the same, a long drive ...’
‘I do have to go.’ Annie drew a shaking breath. ‘Really, I must.’
‘Not before the day after tomorrow, then.’ Dr Graham smiled abstractedly. ‘But I thought ...’
‘That I’d be staying? Why? What did you hear?’ Annie’s voice rose.
‘Nothing, lassie, nothing, only that you were Henry’s daughter and he – well …’
‘Left the house to me?’ Annie finished for him. ‘Yes, he did, but it was all a mistake. Mrs Tallon-Smythe will be living here now.’
‘Oh.’ The doctor’s mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. ‘Well, I don’t think Henry would have wanted that.’
‘Why? Did you know him?’
‘Lassie. Henry was a sick man. Of course I knew him. Who do you think looked after him?’
‘Oh, of course.’ Annie felt foolish. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Och, not to worry. Henry was a fine man, but you never knew him, did you?’
‘No, and I don’t know anyone who did.’ Annie felt the weak tears clogging her throat once more.
‘Murray knew him.’ Dr Graham came to sit on the chaise longue.
‘Not well, and he didn’t like him.’
‘Is that what he said?’ The doctor shook his head. ‘Well, it wasn’t true.’
‘Not true?’ Annie frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘He’ll tell you himself, lassie. I’ll make sure of that. Now, don’t you fret yourself and I’ll pop back in the morning. If the weather’s all right.’ He stood up and patted her hand. ‘You’ll do. Go to bed and get a few hours sleep.’
‘Murray didn’t want me to go to sleep.’
‘Och, that’s because we used to think you mustn’t sleep if you were suspected of having had concussion. Bit of shut eye’s the best thing for you now. I’ve some painkillers here for you.’ He put them into her hand. ‘I’ll just be away to see Marion. OK?’
‘OK.’ Annie smiled back and satisfied, he left the room.
‘I’m to carry you up to bed.’ Murray reappeared silently, taking her by surprise.
‘I can walk,’ Annie croaked, panic stricken.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The gentle concern had been replaced by a frowning pre-occupation and Annie wondered what he had been saying to his mother. And what his mother had been saying to him.
‘Put your arms round my neck.’ He bent down, throwing back the plaid rug and Annie’s senses were assailed by the scent of his body and his cologne. She caught her breath and closed her eyes.
‘What’s the matter?’ The concern was back. ‘Annie? What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘I just moved my head a bit sharply, that’s all.’
‘Relax, then. Rest your head against my shoulder.’ He slid one arm beneath her arms and the other under her knees and Annie wondered how she would be able to bear it. As he straightened up, she felt his breathing quicken and the hard beat of his heart against her. She gave herself up to fighting the twin ordeals of her swimming head and the agony of his proximity as they made slow and steady progress out of the study, across the hall and up the stairs. Whether Marion saw them, she didn’t know, keeping her eyes tight shut until she felt him lower her to her bed and withdraw the warmth of his body, leaving her cold and bereft.
‘Can you manage to get undressed by yourself?’ His voice was remote and she raised her lids slightly to see him standing with his back to her, looking across at the window.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I’ll leave you to get into bed, then. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ Without looking back at her, he went out, closing the door quietly behind him.
Annie sighed and lay still for a moment until the room had steadied, then carefully raised herself on one elbow. Luckily, her thick nightdress was where she had thrown it when she left her room this morning, across the end of her unmade bed. Trying not to move her head, she sat up and began to remove her clothes.
It took much longer than she had anticipated and when the tap came on the door she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, head bent, recovering.
‘Are you all right?’ Murray hurried over to her and knelt beside her.
‘Sort of.’ Her smile was tremulous. ‘I feel a bit sick. Do you think you could help me to the bathroom?’
Without answering, Murray swept her up in his arms and carried her along the corridor, opening the bathroom door and depositing her inside.
‘I’ll wait in the hall,’ he said. ‘Shout if you need me – and don’t lock the door!’
Feeling hot colour flood her face, Annie shut the door with relief. Five minutes later, when she opened it again, he was standing leaning over the banisters, looking down into the hall.
‘All right?’ He turned round and surveyed her through narrowed eyes.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Annie held on to the door post until he reached her. ‘I think I’d prefer to walk, if I could just lean on you.’
‘Tough,’ he replied, picking her up.
He deposited her on the bed once more and this time drew the covers up over her.
‘Now,’ he said, frowning down at her. ‘Do you want anything else before I leave you to sleep?’
‘What about lunch? I was going to get out some pate and cheese – there’s both in the fridge.’
‘Do you want some?’ He looked surprised.
‘No – I was thinking of you. Oh, and dinner – I was going to do a beef casserole with wine – I don’t know whether you or your mother ...’
‘For goodness sake!’ Murray was exasperated. ‘You are supposed to be recovering from a rather unpleasant knock on the head, not thinking about meals. I’ll cope, I promise you.’ He began to go towards the door, stopping to pull the curtains over the windows before he went.
‘Murray?’ Annie called softly just before he closed the door behind him.
‘Yes?’ He paused, hand on the doorframe. In the half light she couldn’t see his eyes.
‘Dr Graham said you knew my father. You didn’t tell me that.’
Murray took a long time to answer.
‘Of course I knew him,’ he said eventually. ‘I saw him when I saw my mother after she left my father.’
‘No, that wasn’t what I meant and you know it. Dr Graham said you knew him. He meant now.’
Murray’s face hardened. ‘I’ll tell you anything you think you need to know when you’ve recovered and not before,’ he said. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go and tell my mother what’s been happening.’ He closed the door and left her alone.
Tell Marion what’s been happening, more like ask her what she wants me to know, thought Annie miserably, as she tried to get comfortable against the pillows. She didn’t understand any of this, particularly why Marion should have pushed the window at her, for that was what had happened, she was sure. The image of long fingers and blood red nails withdrawing as she turned was etched on her memory. She shuddered and slid further down under the covers. Well, at least Marion couldn’t get at her upstairs, could she? Unless Murray – Annie brought herself up short. No, that was just stupid. Murray didn’t want to hurt her. Why on earth should he? But then, why should Marion, after Annie had stated her firm intention of giving her Tallon House? It was all too inexplicable and really, she just couldn’t think about it now.
When she woke, the room was quite dark. Her head felt a little better and after a few minutes, she decided she was able to sit up. A visit to the bathroom was a matter of urgency, so, with trepidation, she slid her legs out of bed, and holding on to the bedside table, pulled herself upright. Her head thumped a bit, but when she had stood still for a moment and let it settle down, she was able to move towards the door. Feeling pleased with herself, she opened it and came face to face with Murray.
/> ‘Oh.’ She swayed backwards and he shot out a hand to catch her awkwardly, the other hand being hampered by a steaming cup.
‘Careful! Where do you think you’re going?’
‘The bathroom,’ she said with dignity. ‘I was doing quite well, thank you. You startled me.’
‘I was bringing you some tea. It’s almost five o’clock.’
‘How long have I slept?’ she gasped.
‘It was about eleven when I left you.’ He was searching her face as he spoke. Apparently satisfied, he went on, ‘You look better. I’ll let you go to the bathroom on your own if you’ll promise to come straight back to bed.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of going anywhere else just yet,’ she said in a tired voice and went past him into the corridor.
When she returned, he had switched on the lamp on her bedside table and plumped up her pillows. She sank back against them gratefully, waiting for the thumping in her head to subside.
‘All right?’ She opened her eyes and found him beside the bed.
‘I thought you’d gone,’ she said.
‘I wanted to make sure you were still in one piece.’
She smiled. ‘I don’t make a habit of getting knocked about.’
‘No, but you were a little unsteady on your feet.’ He looked at her consideringly. ‘Do you remember how it happened now?’
Annie stared at him. Did he know? Had Marion said anything to him? Surely not. ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘I expect I just slipped in the snow as you said.’
He looked as though he didn’t quite believe her, but sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the foot. ‘You wanted to know about your father,’ he said.
Surprised, Annie looked up from her tea cup. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘It’s quite simple, really. I suppose I’d better go back to the beginning when my father bought the house in Hertfordshire.’
A Will to Love Page 7
