by Lucy Gillen
It looked peaceful now, and soft and gentle, but she knew that in the winter, with the cold winds blowing in off the mountain snows, it could be bleak and savage; and there was something much the same about the man who was still very much on her mind as she made her way along the cobbled road through the village. Darrel Bruce too had moments of warmth and gentleness, but he could also be savagely hurtful. A man who, in his way, could be as dangerous as the country he belonged to.
The light wind did no more than stir the trees along the carriageway into a soft whisper of sound as she passed beneath them, her hair wisping softly against her face and neck. It had a damp, warm feel to it,, as if it already carried the beginning of the threatened rain.
Facing Darrel again would be something of a challenge, she was forced to admit, and the nearer she got to Deepwater the less sure she was that she would be able to stick to her avowed intention of leaving in a week’s time. It was possible, of course, that Darrel had meant what he said when he told her to go and not come back, in which case the decision was out of her hands, but somehow she believed his outburst last evening had been no more binding than her own.
She turned another bend in the carriageway and it occurred to her for the first time to wonder what would have happened if she had decided to stay at home today. Whether or not he would have come looking for her, as he had threatened.
The memory of the threat brought a rueful smile to her lips and she admitted to herself for the first time that she found the idea more exciting than frightening. Her uncle, however, would have been both shocked and horrified to have the Bruce, as he always called him, banging on their door and demanding that his niece come out or he’d come in for her. What the rest of the village would have made of it did not bear thinking about, but she still smiled to herself when she thought of it. It was a pity in a way that she had not had the fore-thought to put him to the test.
Her preoccupation deafened her, as it had once before, to the sound of anyone approaching from behind and, as on that occasion, the first indication she had of danger, was the sound of Darrel’s voice cursing roundly, both her and his startled horse. He had been coming fast, of course, and with Tarin jut out of sight round the next bend, he was forced to pull up his speeding mount too hastily, so that the startled animal’s reaction almost unseated him.
There was a flurry of words and movement for several moments while he fought to retain control, and she hastily stepped out of danger, sparing a moment to admire yet again, his confident handling of the situation. A combination of firmness and gentleness, of curses and soothing words soon had the spirited animal in hand again and he looked down at her at last with a hint of resignation.
‘I might have known it was you again!’ he said shortly. ‘Damn it, Tarin, don’t you ever walk properly to the side of the road?’
Determined not to be drawn into a disagreement with him so soon in the day, Tarin looked up at him with an expression as polite and calm as she could muster in the circumstances. ‘Good morning, Mr. Bruce,’ she said quietly.
It was not easy to sound so cool and matter-of-fact when every nerve in her body responded to him so violently, and she could no longer pretend to be surprised at the effect he had on her senses. It was something she was forced to accept as inevitable, no matter how foolish she knew it to be. If this initial meeting was an omen for the rest of the day there was little likelihood of his suggesting that she stay on, and she already felt a little cold corner in her heart at the prospect of going away.
He wore close-fitting blue jeans this morning that clung to his long, muscular legs and made them look even longer. A navy cotton shirt gave added darkness to his tanned face and neck and fitted snugly across the broad chest, his brown arms, below rolled sleeves, smoothly powerful as he kept the restless horse under control.
His reddish-brown hair was untidily windblown after his ride and once again Tarin experienced the almost irresistible urge to run her fingers through its thick roughness, and to press her hands to that broad chest while he held her close in his arms. Realising at last how her emotions were running away with her, she pulled herself up sharply and looked up to find him eyeing her quizzically.
‘So formal?’ he asked softly, and Tarin controlled the thudding beat of her heart only with difficulty.
He surely couldn’t have forgotten so soon or so easily what had happened yesterday, and yet he seemed genuinely surprised at the formality of her greeting. Surely he couldn’t be so insensitive as not to realise how humiliated she had felt when she fled from the room without even stopping to do the various little jobs that were normally part of an automatic routine.
She glanced up at him briefly and met the challenging gaze of the brown eyes warily. ‘Have you forgotten that I gave you a week’s notice yesterday?’ she asked.
He obviously found the recollection amusing, for he cocked one brow at her as he once more brought the shifting stallion relentlessly under control. ‘Oh yes, your dramatic little exit! I naturally expected you to have recovered your senses, having slept on it!’
Tarin stood there on the carriageway, feeling quite minute in contrast to the sleek enormity of his mount. What he said was near enough to the truth to make her uneasy, and she preferred not to meet his eyes again. ‘I don’t see why you should expect me to have second thoughts,’ she told him huskily, seeing herself already lost. ‘I had every reason to act as I did.’
She could guess, even without looking at him, that one craggy brow would be quizzing her again. ‘What reason?’ he asked bluntly. ‘Because I kissed you? Good grief, you little prissy, you’ve been kissed before, certainly!’
She could feel herself blushing like a schoolgirl, and the realisation angered her. What right had he to embarrass her, to make her feel as gauchely uneasy as ever she had ten years ago? The only purpose it served, apart from making her angry, was to make up her mind for her at last that her last night’s decision had been the right one. By behaving as he was, Barrel was simply making it easier for her to stand by her decision to leave.
‘It wasn’t only because youâbecause I was kissed,’ she denied as calmly as she could. ‘You know it wasn’t, Mr. Bruce.’
‘Well, I can’t think of any other reason,’ he declared bluntly.
‘Can’t you?’ Her voice had an uncharacteristically hard edge to it, but it was better than have it shake and tremble as it was threatening to do. ‘You have a very short memory, Mr. Bruce!’
He pulled the restless Tarquin round firmly. ‘You mean Gloria coming in?’ he asked. ‘It was a pity about that, but you surely don’t think that was my fault! I’m sorry she slapped you, but I didn’t do that either, and you didn’t need to act as if it was the end of the world and go storming off the way you did!’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t understand!’ Tarin cried in exasperation. ‘IâI feltâhumiliated being found like that!’
‘For heaven’s sake, why?’ he demanded. ‘Haven’t you been caught kissing the boss before?’
‘Certainly not!’ She hated his bringing it down to crude basics like that and she glared at him indignantly, her blue eyes blazing. ‘And certainly not when theirâtheir girl-friends are the ones who come in unexpectedly! It was obvious Miss Stein was furiousâand heaven knows what cause you’ve given her to think she has the right to be furious!’
That had been rash of her, she realised. He was quiet for a moment, too quiet, she thought ruefully, and waited for the inevitable retaliation. ‘You assume a great deal,’ he said at last, and sounded surprisingly calm, despite the harshness of his voice, so that Tarin chanced an upward glance through her lashes. Knowing him as intimately as she appeared to surely gave Gloria Stein some claim to his affections, especially after all the years they had known one another.
‘I know you’veâ’ she began, attempting to explain her meaning, but one large hand waved her impatiently to silence.
‘You don’t know!’ he denied harshly, then looked pointedly at his w
ristwatch. ‘And you’ve wasted enough time out here, it’s time you were at your deskâthere’s plenty for you to do!’
‘But I wanted you to knowâ’
He pulled his horse round again, hard, and looked at her briefly over his shoulder as he applied his riding crop smartly to the animal’s glossy hide. ‘Be there!’ he said harshly.
Tarin watched him go with a sense of dismay, for there was surely little chance now of his wanting to keep her on as his secretary, and she felt almost tearful as she made her way towards the house in the wake of the racing Tarquin. It was only a matter of days now and she would have to pack her bags and leave her uncle’s house to go back south. Home to the uncertainty of job-hunting.
She was just about to go in through the front doors when she heard someone call from behind her. ‘Hey, Tarin!’
She turned swiftly at the sound of the now familiar voice, and faced Conrad Stein with mixed feelings. No doubt he had had good reason for not seeing her last night, but she could not help feeling a little cool towards him when she felt so sure it was because he had allowed Darrel to influence him.
She was also anxious not to waste further time talking with him when she had been so brusquely ordered to be at her desk. Certain civilities, however, had to be observed and she smiled at him politely as he came up the steps two at a time and smiled at her as he opened the door, stepping back to allow her through first.
‘Good morning,’ she said, and he fell into step beside her as she crossed the big hall, his fingers touching her bare arm tentatively.
‘I’m sorry about last night, Tarin. truly I am.’
She shook her head, only thankful that he had no idea how reluctant she had been to ride with him. ‘It really didn’t matter,’ she assured him.
‘There’ll be other times, huh?’
He looked as if he had no doubt at all about her willingness to make another date with him and she felt rather guilty as she shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Con,’ she said. ‘I’mâI’m leaving Deepwater, you see, next weekâit wouldn’t be worth starting riding lessons when I’m going so soon.’
‘Leaving?’ His hand encircled her arm, bringing her to a halt just outside the office door. ‘But why, for heaven’s sake?’
Tarin shrugged, conscious of the need not to waste any more time in talking to him when she knew that Darrel was on the other side of the door, impatient and unrelenting. ‘It’s rather a long story,’ she told Conrad resignedly. ‘And it’s much better that I goâI shouldn’t really have come in the first place.’
‘The old Bruce McCourt feud?’ He looked as if he found it hard to believe. ‘But surely things like that don’t go on in this day and age! I can’t believe it!’
‘Oh, it isn’t really that,’ Tarin denied, uneasily aware that at least some of their words must be audible to Darrel. ‘Anyway, the reason doesn’t really matterâI’m leaving and that’s an end to it.’ She looked at him and smiled a little ruefully. ‘I’m sorry about the riding lessons, Conâit could have been fun.’
‘It would have,’ he assured her. ‘And I don’t pretend I’m not disappointed.’
Tarin found curiosity uppermost for the moment, and she looked at him through the thickness of her lashes as she speculated on the reason he had given for not seeing her last night. She would not have dared question Darrel on anything so personal, but Conrad Stein was somewhat less awesome, and she banished tact in favour of sheer curiosity for the moment.
‘You told my uncle you had to attend an unexpected meeting last night,’ she ventured, and he nodded. Tarin laughed, as if to dismiss an unlikely rumour. ‘He got hold of the wrong end of the stick when he passed on the message,’ she told him. ‘He said it was something to do with the hotel!’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘We have an interest, you might say!’
Her heart was tapping away suddenly at her ribs, agitatedly, as the first discomfiting suspicions entered her head and refused to be dismissed. ‘Deepwater?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘You have an interest in Deepwater?’ He nodded his head again, his eyes more shrewd suddenly, and she stared at him in disbelief. ‘Butâbut I thought Deepwater was Darrel’s. I mean, really hisâit’s always belonged to the Bruces!’ Unable to grasp the truth of it, she looked around her at the portrayed faces of Darrel’s fierce, redheaded ancestors, then shook her head in confusion and disbelief. ‘It’s been theirs for hundreds of years!’
‘Right!’ he said, and she almost believed it was malice that gleamed in the depths of his grey eyes as he studied her reaction. ‘Only things are a little different now, honey. These days they can’t go pillaging and looting all over the countryside to pay for the upkeep I These days they either marry money or borrow it!’
Tarin swallowed hard and there was a small, cold sensation in her stomach suddenly as she looked at him. ‘And Darrel?’ she asked huskily.
Conrad laughed, a harsh-sounding snort of satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the situation. ‘He borrowed from the Stein millions,’ he told her with cruel candour, ‘but he’ll probably have to do the other thing to stay afloatâI know Gloria’s hoping he does!’
Tarin’s head was spinning with confusion and she could not even bear to contemplate the idea of Darrel marrying Gloria Stein simply to keep Deepwater out of trouble. The Darrel she thought she knew would not do it, but she was no longer very sure of anything, and she faced the fact that he would do a great deal to keep his home. That he would even consider taking the step that Conrad Stein suggested gave her a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘IâI had no idea things were so bad,’ she said, and her voice had a small tight sound to it, so that he looked at her narrow-eyed.
It was not difficult to understand the barely concealed dislike he had shown for Darrel in their last couple of meetings, for it was certain Darrel would make an uneasy partner in such an arrangement as theirs. It would also account for Gloria Stein’s air of possessivenessâshe probably saw no way out for him but to marry her if he was to keep his home.
‘You don’t know the half of it!’ Conrad informed her, and again laughed, as if the situation amused him. ‘But to give him his due, he’s cleverâ he’s damned clever, and tricky! Smarter than we gave him credit for, I guess!’
Tarin looked at him curiously, no longer pretending that it was of little interest to her, but remembering all those other business interests of Darrel’s and wondering if the Steins knew anything about them, or if Conrad was simply guessing.
Darrel had instructed her that all correspondence from the accountant was to go straight to him and she was allowed to do no more than open the envelopes, but even that little had given her some inkling that the Bruce fortunes were quite healthy. Maybe his partners in the hotel were less well informed and only now began to realise that he was. more solvent than they had suspected. Perhaps last night’s meeting had enlightened them, hence Conrad’s manner this morning.
‘IâI must go,’ she said, suddenly very unwilling to discuss it any further, and she moved to the door on legs that trembled alarmingly.
He seemed willing enough to let the subject drop, but looked at her enquiringly as she put a hand on the door-knob. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
The question took her by surprise and for a moment she simply stared at him, then she shook her head slowly. ‘IâI don’t think so, Mr. Stein.’
He recognised the formality of his surname with a raised brow and for the first time Tarin realised how much her attitude had changed towards him in the past few minutes. When he first spoke to her, a few minutes ago, he had been just a charming and attractive American whom she was unlikely ever to see again once she left Deepwater; now he was a threat to Darrel’s future and she felt a distinct and definite antagonism towards him. It was a change that she recognised ruefully, and she wondered how Darrel would have taken it, had he known.
‘Mr. Stein?’ he echoed. ‘What’s wrong, honey?
Aren’t you on my side any longer?’
‘IâI’m not on anyone’s side,’ Tarin denied, and wished with all her heart that she had not stopped to talk to him. ‘I’m just a bit surprisedâa bit confused to learn about Deepwater, that’s all.’
‘You don’t like the idea of it changing hands?’ he guessed, and the glint in his grey eyes was less friendly than it normally was.
‘I didn’t say that,’ she argued. ‘And it hasn’t actually changed hands, has it? Darrel still has an interest, in fact if he’s only borrowed the money, as you said, he’ll be able to pay it back andâ’
‘And you’re hoping he will be able to pay it back?’ he guessed softly. He shook his head and there was a small crooked smile on his mouth as he looked at her speculatively for a second or two. ‘Don’t waste your time and sympathy on Darrel Bruce, honey,’ he advised, ‘you don’t stand an earthly! The only way he’ll get out of the wood for keeps is by marrying Gloria, and no matter what gallant manners you attribute to him, he’ll do it to keep Deepwater, don’t you worry!’
‘IâI don’t believe it!’
Her voice was dry and harsh and Tarin licked her lips with the tip of her tongue as she desperately sought to convince herself she was right about Darrel. But Conrad Stein was even more sure of his theory and he shook his head with an air of certainty that dismayed her.
‘I’ve no doubt he finds the idea of romancing a secretary as pretty as you kind of doing what comes naturally, honey,’ he told her, ‘but you don’t have a couple of million dollars in the bank, do you, Tarin? Gloria hasâand with Darrel that’s what counts at the moment!’
‘Oh, butâ’ She shook her head rapidly, then, without saying another word, turned and opened the door behind her and went in, a bright flush of colour in her cheeks and a suspiciously bright mistiness in her eyes.
