by Isobel Chace
mauve blossom appearing only here and there on the branches, but it was enough to remind her what it could be like when it covered the whole tree and fell in a circle around the trunk in gorgeous profusion.
She could not remember that her uncle had ever been much interested in gardens, but perhaps he had reformed since those early days when he had just come down from university and when his only interest in the world around him had been in looking at it through the lens of his camera.
The dog whined at her feet, signalling the return of the African servant, who bore a silver tray on which were not only the tea-pot and a cup and saucer but some minute, beautifully-cut cucumber and tomato sandwiches.
'I hope you sleep well,' he said, putting the tray down beside the bed. 'Shall I take the dog away?'
Annot glanced at the fat little terrier and lost the battle of wills between them. `I think he'd prefer to stay,' she said weakly.
The African grinned. 'He is not allowed on the bed,' he warned her.
'Of course not,' she agreed virtuously.
The dog waited for the servant to leave the room and then jumped straight up on to the bed, settling himself with a single-minded determination. Annot suspected that that was where he had been when she had first arrived. She gave him a little pat, undoing the buttons of her blouse with her other hand.
'Well,' she compromised, 'just while I have my bath, then. After that you'll have to get down.'
It was sheer bliss to lie in the bath and allow the scented water to wash away the stresses and strains of her night in the plane. To lie down on the cool, clean sheets of the bed was even better. Annot uttered a brief complaint to the dog, who insisted on licking her toes, closed her eyes and
turned over on to her side, fast asleep in a matter of seconds.
She thought it was the noise of snoring that awoke her, but when she looked down at her feet the dog had gone. She wondered what the time was; her watch had stopped, and she thought with some annoyance that she must have forgotten to wind it on the plane.
'Blast!' she said out loud.
She became aware then that someone was looking at her. He was seated back to front on a rather spindly chair, his elbows resting on its back and supporting his chin. She had never seen him in her life before.
She lay back, shutting her eyes again, and wondered if he couldn't possibly be the figment of her imagination, but when she opened her eyes again he was still there, his hair dark and curling down over his neck and his eyes as vivid as green glass.
'Who are you?' she demanded.
'More to the point,' he answered, 'who are you?'
She blinked. 'Me?' She would have sat up, but at that same moment she remembered that she hadn't bothered to find a nightdress before throwing herself into the cool luxury of the bed. It was an unnerving Moment.
'If you'd go downstairs,' she began, 'I could get dressed and—'
The mockery in his eyes brought her to a full stop. 'And?' he prompted her.
`Mr Lincoln is away,' she brought out with creditable aplomb. 'I don't know why you should have come upstairs without a by-your-leave, but I'm quite willing to discuss it downstairs when I'm dressed and in my right mind.'
His eyes narrowed. 'You're a friend of Jeremy Lincoln's?'
His disapproval was the last straw. 'What if I am?' she
demanded. 'Jeremy's entitled to have some friends, isn't he?'
'The man stood up, his expression one of contempt. 'I shouldn't have thought you'd be one of their number,' he shot at her. 'The sooner you get up the better. If you have it in mind to be entertained by Jeremy, I'm sure you'd find yourself more comfortable in his house rather than in mine.'
'This is his house.' Even to her own ears she sounded painfully uncertain.
'If you think that it's clear you don't know Jeremy very ell. This is my house, and my farm—and my bed, come to that!'
'Then where is Jeremy?'
The man shrugged. 'If he invited you here to stay with him, presumably he'll be back in time—'
Annot gave him an aggrieved look. 'You don't care if he isn't, do you?'
'Not a lot,' he agreed. 'I don't imagine it's the end of your world either, not to find him ready and waiting for you. You look more foolish than sinful.'
'Sinful? What are you talking about?'
'What you suppose! Your proposal to keep Jeremy company for a while to show the world how independent and liberated you are. Well, let me tell you, what you need is a good smacking and to be sent back where you came from' He glared down at her and she was more than half convinced that he was about to suit his actions to his words. 'Where do you come from?' he added on a different note.
'England,' she said.
He looked grimmer than ever. 'So that's where he's been! He hasn't been here for weeks. It looks, young lady, as though you've had your journey for nothing! Unless you consider jumping us of Jeremy's frying-pan into my fire a sufficiently exciting adventure for one of your dubious sense of propriety?'
Annot nearly laughed. 'Are you always so rude?' she asked him.
`To your sort—always! I've had a great deal of experience of the kind of traps that can be laid for someone in my position! '
Annot opened her eyes wide. 'Bit it was Jeremy I came to see,' she assured him breathlessly. 'I know my limitations, Mr—Mr—?'
'James Montgomery,' he supplied reluctantly.
Annot remembered the name on the disc on the tree and groaned. 'And this is your house?'
'I built it!'
'And is that fat little dog yours too?'
'No. He belongs to Jeremy—when he's here. He doesn't seem to know it, though, and when Jeremy is away he's always over here, trying to move in. Most of Jeremy's encumbrances seem to find this a better setting for themselves than his place.'
Annot felt obliged to defend the clog. 'He thinks he's beautiful and unique! Nobody ever told him he's too fat and rather plain!'
'I have, frequently,' was the unsympathetic answer.
'You couldn't have said it with much conviction,' she retorted. 'And this encumbrance of Jeremy's is only too willing to leave your roof as soon as you point me out the way to Jeremy's house!'
'I have a feeling that, like the dog, you'll be back!' 'Never!'
He slanted his head, eyeing every inch of her that was visible with a thoughtful air. 'If I were you,' he advised with calm insolence, 'I'd change my allegiance as quickly as I could from Jeremy Lincoln. You'd have a much better time if you stayed on here.'
'I doubt if your fiancée would agree with you!' Annot snapped, suddenly scared because she couldn't help being
aware of the man's animal attractions, and she didn't want anything to interfere with the cool head she knew she would need to deal with him satisfactorily.
'Is that a shot in the dark?' he demanded.
She shook her head. 'I travelled out with her daughter, a nice child called Dorcas. I don't think you've met her yet?'
'But you have met Judith Drummond?'
She nodded, wondering at his amusement. 'When's the wedding?' she countered nastily.
'Never, if I have anything to do with it. Don't misunderstand me, I'm fond of Judith, but no woman is going to tie me up until I'm good and ready to give up my present way of life. Women need other things besides scenery, hard work, and the occasional tribal ceremony, and I'm not yet ready to give it all up and go and live in a city.'
Annot stared at him in total disbelief. 'You can't be serious!' she said at last.
'In what way?' he asked.
'What woman wouldn't be happy living here?'
'None that I know. On a short-term basis perhaps, but not for the rest of their lives.'
'But you only live just over the hour outside Nairobi!' 'It's far enough. Far enough to be left alone by all but the most persistent!'
'I suppose you mean me? Well, let me tell you, nothing would have induced me to come here if I'd known it was your house. In fact, I wouldn't have come to Kenya at
all if my moth—' She broke off.
His interest was caught. 'Your mother? I don't think you've told me your name?'
'It's Annot Lindsay,' she muttered.
'And Jeremy persuaded you to come?'
It was hard to tell a deliberate lie to him when he looked
at her in just that way. Annot crossed her fingers under the bedclothes. 'Yes,' she said.
'I'll bet he did! And what did your mother have to do with it?'
'That's scarcely any business of yours Annot said with determination.
'I'm making it my business, Miss Annot Lindsay. I'm curious about you—not only because I've found you sleeping in my bed like Goldilocks, but because I wouldn't like to see a girl like you fall into Jeremy's ungentle hands unless you have more native cunning and hardness that can cope with his more outrageous suggestions. Unless I'm much mistaken, you have neither.'
'Indeed?' she flashed. 'Well, I'd rather fall into Jeremy's hands than yours any day!'
He bent over the bed, his eyes holding hers with an ease that put her into a fret of fear as to what he might intend by her.
'But you have fallen into my hands, Annot Lindsay, whether you like the fact or not. You come to my house and slept in my bed, and now you'll answer my questions and I'll decide what's best to be done with you. Is that clear?'
She nodded, her frightened gaze misting with tears. 'But only when I'm dressed. I wish you'd go away!'
'I'll give you ten minutes, Miss Lindsay,' he said. 'If you're not down by then, I'll send the dog up after you!'
CHAPTER TWO
ANNOT supposed that that was a joke, but she wasn't laughing. Now that he had left the room she had time to realise how deeply he had got under her skin. He had caught her off guard and she was ashamed that she hadn't dealt with the whole situation better. What had been the point of trying to antagonise him? Had it been only because she had disliked the sound of James Montgomery from the first instant that Mrs Drummond had referred to him? But she hadn't known who he was when she had first awakened and had found him sitting there watching her. No, it had been that that she had found so disturbing. She had no means of knowing how long he had been there and, worse still, she hadn't so much resented his presence, it had been the extraordinary effect on her she had disliked. She had been more conscious of him, of the sheer physical attraction of the man, than she had ever been of anyone else in her life before. He had spelt danger, and the smell of it was still in her nostrils, warning her of something she couldn't put into words. She only knew that where he was concerned she would have to tread very carefully indeed.
Annot rejected the cotton pants and shirt she had been wearing earlier in favour of a green hand-embroidered cheesecloth dress she had made herself. It was cool and very feminine, showing off her long legs and hinting that if she chose to reveal more of herself, it would only be of benefit to those who had to look at her.
Sitting in front of the dressing-table, she made herself up with inordinate care, brushing on only the lightest of eye-shadows, and left her face to look as natural as possible.
She was fortunate in having a lovely complexion, as fair as her eyes were dark. She wore her hair in what was basically a pony-tail knotted at the top of her head, a crown of gold that contrasted oddly with her nearly black eyes.
Satisfied at last, she made a face at herself in the glass and, picking up the bag that doubled as a handbag and something in which she could carry her favourite cameras in order to have them always by her, she went slowly downstairs, determined that this time she would deal with her reluctant host on a more equal basis.
'Dash it all, he can't eat me! ' she confided to the dog, who had deigned to come to the foot of the stairs to greet her.
'I wouldn't be too sure of that!' a masculine voice said from the shadows of the hall. 'You look like a crisp English apple in that dress, Miss Lindsay. Far too good for Jeremy,' he went on.
'He doesn't have to appreciate me!' she answered crossly. 'No?'
He led the way into a spacious, elegant sitting-room. The William Morris covers gave it a very English air that was accentuated by the fireplace that was of baronial proportions, and which had a very handsome fireback that could have been of Tudor design and workmanship.
'Won't you sit down?' he suggested as she hesitated, enjoying the almost Edwardian luxury of the room.
'Thank you,' she said demurely.
The chairs were every bit as comfortable as they looked, and Annot placed her cameras at her feet and sat well back in the chair of her choice. 'You have a lovely home,' she smiled up at Mr Montgomery. She would keep the interview as pleasant as she could, she decided inwardly. It was ridiculous to allow her initial dislike of him to undermine her usual good manners.
'You think so?' It seemed he intended being as polite
as she. 'You'd find it lonely if you were to spend any time here.'
'Do you find it so?'
'A man can put up better with the loss of the small change of life—'
'Rubbish!' Her good intentions forgotten, Annot flared up like a match. 'I've never heard such nonsense! Women are much better built for discomfort, for a start. Secondly, who is better at doing the tedious jobs that one has to do for oneself if one lives a long way from a town? Women, every time!'
`Women get bored—'
'I've never been bored in my life!'
James Montgomery sat down in the chair opposite her, looking her up and down with a masculine superiority that maddened her.
'Much too good for Jeremy!' he gave it as his opinion at last. Calmly he watched her temper rise. 'You'd do far better to settle for me, my dear.'
'Would I?' A tight feeling in the pit of her stomach warned her yet again that this man was dangerous. `I don't think so. It seems to me you already have your hands pretty full.' As she spoke, the memory of Judith Drummond came into her mind, confident, tanned, and not particularly likeable. Annot smiled brilliantly across at James. 'Aren't two women enough for you?'
`Two?'
It was Annot's turn to look smug. 'You haven't met Dorcas yet,' she said.
If she had hoped to discomfit him, she was forced to admit she had failed. His eyes lit with immediate amusement. 'No, I haven't met Dorcas,' he agreed, 'but I expect her to be considerably less trouble than her mother. She sounds a sensible little thing.'
'She is.' Annot frowned. 'She has a lot of faith in you,'
she added, 'she thinks you're the answer to all her mother's problems.'
James Montgomery's expression didn't change a whit. 'What did I tell you?' he taunted her. 'Women and gossip go together like peaches and cream! They're never too young—and they're never too old—to bare their souls to one another. What else did this pint-sized chatterbox have to say?'
'Very little,' said Annot, disliking him. 'We spent most of the flight trying to catch a little sleep, if you must know!'
'Poor Miss Lindsay,' he taunted her. 'You must have been disappointed not to hear all the details of every word Judith and I have exchanged with one another.'
'It holds no interest for me ! ' she denied.
'No?'
It shouldn't have done, but the truth was that the thought of this man in the company of Mrs Drummond did niggle her. That didn't mean she was interested, precisely—only in Dorcas! She had liked Dorcas from the first moment she had set eyes on her!
`Mr Montgomery, I don't think this is getting us very far,' she began warily. 'I'm sorry if I gate crashed your house—'
`And bed!' he insisted.
'Very well, and bed! But it was an honest mistake. If Mr Lincoln doesn't live here, perhaps you'd be kind enough to show me where he does live?'
`Not yet, Miss Lindsay.' He stood up and walked over to the French windows that led out into the garden. 'I want to know what you expect from Jeremy Lincoln first. Others have tried to reform him before now, but none have succeeded. It has always meant disaster for the woman concerned.'
`Indeed?' Annot cast a cold lo
ok at his back. 'Well, pleasant as it is to gossip with you, Mr Montgomery, I have
better things to do with my time, even if you haven't!'
He had the audacity to laugh at her. 'A good try, Annot,' he said dryly, 'but you're not leaving here until I've got to the bottom of this business, so you might as well start at the beginning and tell me the whole story. Where does your mother come into it, for instance?'
'I don't think that's any business of yours!'
He turned his head and looked at her, and it blighted any thought she might have had to take him further to task. She felt very small and unaccountably guilty, yet he had no right to question her as if she were a naughty child. He had no rights over her at all!
'When did you last see Jeremy?' he asked in the same dry tones.
She would have loved to refuse to answer, but she hadn't the courage to antagonise him further. 'Years ago,' she said as airily as she could.
He looked startled at that. 'Years ago? You must have been a child?'
'I was.' She fingered the embroidery on the front of her dress. 'He's my uncle.'
She was aware that that was the last thing he had expected her to say. He came back from the window and stood over her, glaring down at her.
'He's your uncle? Why on earth didn't you say so sooner?' She shrugged. 'I didn't see why I should tell you anything!' she said indignantly. 'I still don't!'
'But you're going to, Miss Lindsay, just the same! Good heavens, girl, didn't your family get my letter about Jeremy?'
Annot nodded sullenly. 'That began it all,' she couldn't resist putting in. 'My mother was already worried because she hadn't heard from him for so long, and then your letter clinched it—especially when we heard nothing more from you! Didn't you care about the upset you'd caused?'
'That I'd caused?' His indignation made him seem more human and very much more likeable.
'My mother has always fussed over Jeremy,' Annot added. 'She's much older than he is and she practically brought him up. He's my uncle in fact, but he's much more like an older brother to me in many ways. We practically grew up together, until my part of the family went back to England.'
