by Anne Mather
Rhia shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘All right,’ she murmured, too nervous of his reactions to go on ignoring him. ‘I accept your apology.’
‘Good.’ And then, palpitatingly, his hand touched her artificial curls. ‘I’m sorry about this. It appears you need to wear it more than I had anticipated.’
Rhia permitted herself a quick look up at him, surprising a curiously gentle expression in his eyes. ‘I—I can’t imagine why you should have thought I might not need to wear it all the time,’ she blurted, unwillingly disturbed by his compassion. ‘You must have a curious notion of how your nephew behaves. Glyn thinks I’m Val. He wants to touch me. How could you think otherwise?’
‘At least I prevented you from having to explain why you couldn’t go to bed with him!’ retorted Jared harshly, his dark eyes showing he was angered by her sarcasm.
‘Unless that was what you wanted, of course. I didn’t consider that.’
Rhia sprang to her feet, uncaring that by doing so she was erasing the space between them. ‘That’s a foul thing to suggest!’
‘But justifiable, don’t you think?’ Jared countered grimly, as her heaving breasts brushed the fine silk of his shirt. ‘You didn’t exactly jump at my offer of escape, did you?’
‘After what you’d just done, no!’ Rhia stepped back from him, as the scent of his body rose from the opened collar of his shirt. ‘I didn’t need your help.’
Jared’s mouth thinned. ‘I’ll remember that.’
‘Thank you.’
Rhia made the retort as she strode blindly towards the door, only to fall back instinctively as Lisa appeared.
‘So this is where you are, darling,’ Glyn’s mother exclaimed artlessly, ignoring Rhia and advancing into the room. ‘I’ve been looking for you, Jared.’ She slid her hand possessively through his sleeve. ‘At last I’ve got you to myself.’
Rhia did not need the pointed reminder to make herself scarce. She had had quite enough of the Frazers for one day. But she was aware of Jared’s eyes on her as she left the room, and of his fingers sliding smoothly over the silky curve of Lisa’s head.
CHAPTER NINE
IN fact it was three days before Rhia and Glyn took their ride together. Two days after their arrival, delayed exhaustion took its toll on his weakened system, and he spent most of his time in bed, just getting up in the evenings.
It meant that Rhia was often at a loose end, but she found solace in Maria’s company, often joining the Indian woman in her kitchen and listening to her tales about how things used to be.
One afternoon, Ben showed Rhia over the ground floor of the house, proving himself as knowledgeable about the family’s history as anyone. The house was even bigger than Rhia had imagined from the little she had learned of it, and as well as the hall, which was used as a meeting place for all the family and their friends, there were several reception rooms, whose contents were swathed by dust-preventing sheets.
‘Wasn’t necessary to build all these rooms,’ remarked Ben, closing the door on a ghostly-shrouded parlour. ‘But Mac wanted the biggest and the best house hereabouts, and that’s what he got.’
There was even a music room, elaborately decorated, and furnished with an enormous grand piano. ‘Margaret used to play,’ he said, running his fingers over the yellowing keys. He indicated a harp standing in a corner. ‘She used to play that, too, but after the boys were born, she didn’t have much time for music.’
‘I suppose not.’ Rhia looked about her, admiring the silk moiré curtains at the long windows, the polished wood floor strewn with creamy fur hides, that would give so much better acoustics than a carpeted floor could have done. As well as the piano and the harp, there was also an organ, inlaid with rosewood and set in a window embrasure, and several violin cases were laid reverently on a marquetry table.
‘She wanted the boys to play piano, too,’ Ben went on, fingering the taut string of a bow. ‘But Angus never had time for such things, and although Jared learned to play, he seldom comes in here.’
Rhia thought she could guess why. From what she knew of Jared, little though that was, she doubted he would feel at home in these surroundings. She thought it was much more likely that he kept this room as it was in deference to his mother’s memory.
She herself preferred the library. The tall book-lined room delighted her, smelling deliciously as it did of leather and tobacco. Although it was just as impressive in its way as the other rooms of the house, it had a comfortable lived-in atmosphere, and Rhia sank into one of the squashy leather armchairs, running her fingers over the arms.
‘This is where you’ll generally find Jared, if he’s not in his den,’ remarked Ben, pulling out a leather-tooled volume and inspecting the flyleaf. ‘Hmm. The Compleat Angler! I don’t guess Mac bought this for Margaret.’
‘Who do you think he bought it for?’ Rhia asked, resting her chin on one knuckle, before catching sight of Jared advancing up the curve of the drive visible from the windows. Immediately, she got up from the chair, unwilling for him to think she was taking advantage of his absence, drawing back behind the heavy red velvet drapes.
‘Oh, I guess it belonged to Angus,’ shrugged Ben, pulling a wry face. ‘My eldest son was a keen fisherman, Val. He was happy to go out in all weathers.’ He sighed, not noticing his younger son’s approach. ‘He was killed, you know. The plane he was flying came down in the forest, north of here, on his way home from a fishing trip.’ He grimaced. ‘Poor Angus, he always was a loser.’
Rhia was interested in what he was saying, but the sound of the outer door opening and closing tightened her stomach muscles. However, although Ben’s voice must have been clearly audible through the half-open door, Jared did not come to find them, and presently she realised he must have gone straight upstairs. To find Lisa, no doubt, she thought bitterly, her emotions stirred by what Ben had told her. She had learned that Lisa rested in her rooms most afternoons. But in spite of what Maria had said, she did not believe that Glyn’s mother was as frail as she strove to appear.
The morning Glyn was well enough to go riding, the air was clear, the sun warm on their faces as they walked down to the stables. Rhia had taken Glyn’s advice and put on long boots and a warm sheepskin jacket, though she had shunned the stetson he had suggested for her head. The wig was quite warm enough, and she always found it a relief to reach her room and pull off its confining web of nylon cord.
The stables were situated near the men’s quarters, but fortunately at this hour of the morning, there were few of them about. Two men who were attending to the repair of the fence surrounding a corral called a greeting, however, and came over to shake Glyn’s hand.
‘We heard,’ one of them, whom Glyn introduced as Will Henley, exclaimed sympathetically. ‘But you’ll make it son. You’ve got Mac’s blood in your veins, and no Macdonald ever gave up.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Glyn patted Will’s shoulder affectionately. Then: ‘Is Foo around? I want to introduce him to Val.’
‘Sure. He’s in the cookhouse,’ agreed the other man, who Glyn had addressed as Crow. Like Maria, his features showed his Indian ancestry, but both men were obviously genuinely fond of their employer’s nephew. ‘What d’you want Foo for? To cut those curls of yours? Hell, Miss Val’s hair is shorter than yours, ain’t it?’
‘Is it?’ Glyn’s fingers probed insistently against her scalp. ‘Yes, I guess it is at that. But I want these whiskers cutting. She doesn’t like me with a beard, do you, honey?’
Rhia’s face suffused with becoming colour. During the last few days Glyn had developed quite a beard, but he had insisted he could wait for Foo to cut it. ‘It’s probably warmer,’ she conceded with a little shiver and Glyn took the hint, bidding goodbye to the two men, and directing Rhia to the bunkhouse.
The Chinese, Foo Sung, was in the kitchen, and while Glyn and he exchanged greetings, Rhia looked around the room where the men took their meals. There were several long trestle tables, indicating the numbers th
at were accommodated, with long benches beside them. At the end of the bunkhouse were several layers of bunk beds, and after introducing her to Foo, Glyn explained that at round-up time, they were often in use.
‘Jared takes on extra hands at that time,’ he remarked, as Foo installed him in a chair and disappeared to collect shaving cream and a razor. ‘We employ upwards of fifty men full-time, and some of them live with their families. Those who don’t are accommodated in single units out back.’
Rhia nodded. ‘I always thought they lived in the bunkhouse,’ she confessed, grimacing. ‘Shades of the old West!’
‘They used to, years ago,’ Glyn agreed, as Foo returned, stropping a razor on a strip of leather. ‘Some still do, I guess. But Jared believes in keeping his men happy, and although Foo still cooks for them, their leisure time is as private as they want to make it.’
Rhia’s lips tightened. ‘I suppose Jared can afford it.’
‘Jared is a fine man,’ declared Foo Sung proudly. ‘He is fit to be Macdonald’s grandson.’
‘Meaning my father wasn’t,’ said Glyn, without rancour. ‘Foo is a faithful admirer of Jared’s, aren’t you, Foo? Just because he pulled him out of the lake one time.’
‘Jared saved my life,’ asserted Foo firmly. ‘I would have drowned, or died of cold. He risked his own life to save mine. He could have frozen, too.’
Glyn grinned. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re still around. There’s no one else I’d trust to scrape my throat with a blade as sharp as this one.’
The horses that were provided for them later did not meet with Glyn’s approval, however. ‘Where’s Prince?’ he demanded, when the stable boy, Troy Cummings, the youth who had met them at the airport, led out a bay gelding for him to ride. ‘I don’t want this rocking horse, Troy. I want my own mount.’
‘Mr Jared said you weren’t to be too ambitious first off,’ Troy responded uncomfortably. ‘Honest, Glyn, it wasn’t my idea, but Mr Jared said if you came looking for a mount, I was to give you Breaker, and Miss Mallory Dawn Wind.’
Glyn grimaced. ‘I don’t care what Mr Jared said. I want Prince, and you’d better get him saddled and out here pretty damn quick.’
‘I can’t do that, Glyn.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘’Cause he ain’t here, Glyn. Horse is riding him this morning. Like as not to stop you from doing so.’
‘Damn Horse!’ Glyn’s jaw grated mutinously, and Rhia knew he was restraining his tongue with difficulty. ‘Okay, I’ll ride Breaker. But you can tell Mr Jared that I’m no novice, even if I am blind!’
Rhia’s mount was a docile mare, and she was not dismayed by the animal’s lack of initiative. She had more than enough to do remembering all she had learned, and keeping an eye on Glyn, who was inclined to be too ambitious.
Nevertheless, leaving the yard behind them, it was invigorating to give the horses their heads and gallop across the springy turf. It was a beautiful morning, the sun just gradually creeping up the sky and turning the distant mountains to pale pink and gold.
‘I’m sorry if I was bad-tempered back there,’ Glyn apologised, when she came close to guide his mount with hers. ‘I’m not usually so bloody-minded, but just sometimes this whole mess gets me down.’
‘I understand. Don’t worry about it.’ Rhia reached out and touched his hand where it rested on his thigh. ‘Now, you tell me where you want to go. There’s so much space—I couldn’t begin to decide for myself.’
Glyn nodded and grinned. ‘Okay.’ He reined in his mount and she did the same beside him. ‘Now, let me think: can you see the range over to the left of us?’
‘Yes. You mean—the mountains?’
‘That’s right. They look close, don’t they? But they’re not that close. You’d be surprised how far you’d have to ride before you reached the foothills.’
‘Hmm.’ Rhia nodded. ‘They are beautiful though, aren’t they?’
Glyn’s lips twisted, and she could have bitten out her tongue for being so thoughtless. But happily he took it in good part. ‘I guess they’re the most beautiful mountains in the world, at least so far as I’m concerned,’ he agreed. ‘But dangerous. Don’t forget, dangerous. The lower slopes look innocent enough, but if the mist comes down…’
‘I can imagine.’ Rhia shivered. Then: ‘So—where are we going?’
‘Well—’ Glyn turned his head, as if striving for a mental picture, ‘if I’m right, away to our right is a wooded area. The ground slopes down into a kind of ravine, and I want to show you the falls that give this place its name.’
Rhia hesitated, staring towards the trees he indicated, and realising that unlike the open plain, it would be infinitely more hazardous riding into a ravine.
‘I can see it,’ she conceded now, biting her lip. ‘But Glyn, isn’t that a little dangerous? I mean—couldn’t we just ride on?’
‘What? Into oblivion?’ Glyn was impatient now. ‘Rhia, there’s nothing ahead of us but miles and miles of grassland and cattle, thousands of cattle.’ He snorted. ‘Look ahead of you—can you see how long the grass is in places? Is that really all you want to see? Grass?’
‘No.’ Rhia was honest enough to admit that it wasn’t. ‘But this is your first outing, Glyn, and your mother—’
‘To hell with my mother,’ he retorted harshly. ‘Since when is my mother so all-fired keen to assure herself of my well-being? I haven’t noticed any strong motherly tendencies up until now. This is all for Jared’s benefit, can’t you see? Jared expects her to be concerned, so she’s concerned. But that’s all.’
‘Oh, Glyn, I’m sure—’
‘What are you sure? That she’s a good mother? That she cares a—what happens to me?’ He swore again, more crudely this time, and Rhia knew a helpless sense of pity for him. ‘Val, she wants Jared, and she’ll do anything she can to get him. Even if it means playing materfamilias to impress him!’
Rhia shook her head. ‘Nevertheless, she’s right to be concerned about you, and—and riding into the ravine does seem—reckless!’
Glyn’s mouth tightened. ‘Are you refusing to come with me?’
‘Refusing to come—no! No, I’m not—refusing exactly. Glyn—’
‘Then let’s go, shall we?’ he suggested, nudging his mount forward, and with an impending feeling of disaster Rhia was forced to go with him.
The ground became rougher as they left the open plain to enter the wooded slopes that led down into the ravine. Grassland gave way to tussocky shrubland, and the trees grew thicker as the path narrowed. Below them, Rhia could see a lake, glinting in sunlight, and closer at hand, she could hear the sound of water falling over stones. She realised it was the creek she had seen from her windows, emptying itself into the lake below, and in so doing creating a waterfall, crystal-clear and icy-cold.
Because she dared not let Glyn lead the way, Rhia rode ahead of him down the sloping path turning her head frequently to assure herself that he was all right. Fortunately, her own mount seemed surefooted, and she was able to give Glyn her undivided attention. Even so, she was tense and on edge, aware that if anything happened, both Jared and Lisa would blame her.
It was an enchanting place, she had to admit, and when they emerged on to a plateau just above the cataract, she caught her breath at its sheer beauty. Set about with moss and ferns, the steady cascade of water was not heavy, but it was constant, causing a misty spray to rise up above the undergrowth and create its own spectrum of colour.
‘Moose Falls,’ said Glyn, moving his mount closer, so that his leg brushed hers. ‘You can guess how it got its name. In summer we can swim in the lake. Let’s go down.’
‘Oh, do you think we should?’ Rhia glanced back up the slope behind them. ‘Don’t you think we’ve come far enough for today? You must be tired.’
‘I’m okay.’ Glyn was aggressive, and with a sigh, Rhia pressed her heels into Dawn Wind’s sides, urging her forward.
The way became steeper as they neared the bottom of
the ravine, and the mossy surface underfoot was damp and a little slippery. Rhia guessed the sun seldom penetrated the trees guarding the path, and the moist smell of rotting vegetation was all around them. She watched Glyn anxiously, alert for any unwary slip he might make, and omitting to look where she was going, was suddenly wrenched from the saddle by the bare branch of an aspen jutting across the path.
The cry she emitted was involuntary, the instinctive response to being tossed from the saddle into a clump of damp vegetation. She landed on her back, winded by the lash of the branch across her midriff, and numbed by the hard spiky earth against her spine. She lay there sickly for several seconds, too dazed to immediately answer Glyn’s anxious call of concern, and not until his voice took on an angry urgency could she struggle to reassure him.
‘It’s all right,’ she got out weakly, as he climbed down from Breaker’s back, and began threshing about in the undergrowth. ‘Glyn, I’m all right. Just—just winded, that’s all. I’m afraid I’ve made an absolute fool of myself.’
‘Where are you? Keep talking,’ ordered Glyn impatiently, and after a few moments, his searching fingers closed over one booted foot. With impersonal thoroughness, his hand ran up her legs and thighs, and he knelt in the moss beside her, to take both her hands in his.
Rhia pulled herself up into a sitting position, wincing as the effort jarred her spine, but relieved that at least she seemed to be in one piece. ‘I was so busy looking out for you, I forgot to look out for myself,’ she exclaimed, trying to make light of it. ‘Honestly, Glyn, you should see the state I’m in—covered in mud and goodness knows what else!’
‘You’re sure you’re all right?’ Glyn was not happy with her reassurance. ‘Heavens, you could have broken your neck! It’s my fault for insisting we come down here.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ With a determined effort, Rhia got to her feet, hastily tucking a few errant strands of her own hair inside the wig. She was relieved it had stayed firm during her fall. She might have had a job finding it again among all the twigs and ferns. ‘Come on,’ she added, ‘let’s go back. I’m sorry to cut short our outing, but I really could do with a wash and change of clothes.’
