She flushed with pleased surprise—his keen look after a previous request for a curry-comb to help remove dirt and hairs from grooming brushes was now fully explained. 'Strange,' she mused, 'but I've a feeling you're right. I do know about horses, without even thinking I've saddled, ridden and groomed them, yet for the life of me I can't remember where…'
'Give yourself time, Miss Raine,' Ted Marshall urged kindly, 'don't try to hurry nature, your memory will return soon enough—too soon, .perhaps,' he muttered awkwardly, 'my wife was saying only the other day how much happier Master Vulcan seems since your arrival here.'
'Thank you. Ted.' She felt warmed by his shy praise. 'I feel so useless sometimes, it's good to know I'm not entirely unappreciated.'
'Her small conquest lent added spring to her step as, with Vulcan at her heels, she approached the grazing ponies. Expertly she sized them up, then moved without hesitation towards a placid, aged pony, reasonably thin without being narrow-chested, with a not too long back and well-rounded quarters. His coat was black, and a shaggy fringe fell across large, soulful eyes that questioned without panic when she reached out to stroke him.
'This is the one for you,' she decided. 'What shall we call him?'
Her spirits sank when she glanced down at his mutinous face. 'That one is too old. Thor will laugh at me if I sit astride that old rocking horse! I want a younger one,'
Patiently she explained, 'One of the most important qualities of a pony for a beginner is that it should have a good temperament, be obedient, and neither be inclined to try to get you off its back by rearing or bucking, nor bolt with you. These qualities are attained only by ponies fairly well on in years. This one has all its youthful over-playfulness out of its system and will be content to carry out its duties undisturbed by noises that might excite a younger pony.'
Anxiously she waited for the cloud to lift from his face, taking heart from the lessened heat of his protest. 'I'll look silly riding that old thing… !
'But he's a beautiful pony!' she argued, then deciding upon a change of tactics she capitulated. 'If, after the first few lessons, you still aren't happy with him I promise we'll change to one a little more adventurous, is that agreed?'
His red head flashed fire in the sunlight as he nodded vigorous agreement. 'Very well—and I think I'll call him Son of Lucifer, just because he's small there's no reason why he shouldn't be given a big name.'
Son of Lucifer, shortened after a while to the more affectionate if not strictly accurate Luci, became the love of Vulcan's life. Each morning before breakfast he sped down to the stables to muck out, feed and water Luci, all the while carrying on a conversation in a low undertone, spilling out confidences that reached only the animal's up-pricked ears. In fact, the bond between boy and pony became so marked that Raine began to worry and tried to protect the boy from the heartache of losing a beloved pet by attempting to get him to share some of his affection with another younger pony. But he remained aloof, determined that nothing and no one would come between himself and his beloved friend.
Unfortunately, from the very first riding lesson, he showed a strong aversion to wearing a hard hat.
Firmly Raine insisted upon his wearing the protective headgear, but his reluctant obedience became wearing in the extreme. As she was walking down to the paddock where both he and the pony were waiting to begin a lesson, she faltered with a weary sigh, noting that once again the despised hat had been slung into a corner of the paddock.
'Please fetch your hat and put it on, Vulcan,' she insisted without heat, prepared for a battle to begin.
He remained seated in the saddle, his back rigid. 'Hats are for cissies. I'm not likely to fall off, I never do…'
'There has never been a rider who hasn't fallen off some time or another I' she reminded him sharply, 'but what is equally important, the hat is also meant as protection from low branches.'
Haughtily, he glanced around. 'There are none here in the paddock,' he argued with an insolent gleam, feeling himself triumphing in the battle of wills.
Before she could muster a reply, a cold command was aimed from across her shoulder. 'Dismount immediately, go to your room, and stay there until I give you my permission to leave!'
Raine stiffened, dreading the consequences of disobedience, then felt even more apprehensive when, after a second's hesitation, the boy slid wordlessly from the saddle and stalked angrily away.
'Come to my study, there's something we must discuss,' Thor directed, his cold voice sending shivers down her spine. Wordlessly, she followed him into the house and waited while he paced the study, noting his wrinkled brow and the deepening green of his eyes. The silence lasted so long her thoughts began to wander: What sort of face lay behind the screening red' beard? Arrogant, no doubt, with a chin firmly jutting to match the stern outline of a mouth chipped from granite and a formidable profile to match the giant frame that generated so much power and assurance.
So deeply preoccupied had she become, she gave a nervous jump when he rounded swiftly and pounced. 'I will not allow you to mollycoddle Vulcan, d'you hear? Of late he's become petted, inclined to sulkiness when crossed and very much slower to obey orders. You're to blame for this change—you've fussed over him like a broody hen ever since you arrived here, given in to his every whim, coaxed, cajoled and cosseted him to such an extent he is within an ace of becoming a spoilt, impudent and willfully disobedient brat!' '
His attack took her so much by surprise she could project no more than a gasp through parted lips.
'Don't bother to deny it!' he growled in a tone that would have subdued a pack of mutineers. 'Fortunately, I've recognized the danger soon enough to prevent you causing any permanent damage, but in future you will keep your distance, at no time are you rand the boy to spend time alone together, and as a punishment for the display of tantrums I witnessed earlier he'll be told that the stables are out of bounds until further notice.'
'You can't!' Her shocked whisper was a mere thread of sound. 'Not even you could be so cruel!
Punish me if you must—though for what crime I have no idea—but please don't deprive the boy of his only outlet of affection. Luci means more to him than any living creature, you wouldn't… you can't inflict such suffering upon a child!'
Green eyes flashed and nostrils flared while her distracted eyes roved his features, searching desperately for a hint of softening. 'I shall use whatever method I think best to eliminate the unfortunate traits you've fostered in the boy's character. I do not wish to discuss the subject further—my orders have been clearly outlined, see to it that they are obeyed promptly and to the letter!'
Picturing the boy's reaction to being parted indefinitely from his pet was unbearably distressing. Raine clenched her fists and swallowed deeply before choking out, 'You're carrying the fantasy of living life aboard ship to extremes, Captain Halden! Danes' Dyke as a home is far from perfect, but fortunately, as it's the only one Vulcan has . ever known, he's unable to draw comparisons!' She tensed her slight body to combat his look of hauteur, and forced herself to pour further scorn upon his methods. 'What will you do to me if I refuse to obey your orders, Captain? Have me tied to the mast and flogged, or taken below and put in irons? I wouldn't put either past you,' she shakily admitted. 'Your resentment of the wife who deserted you has developed into a misguided hatred of all women that has grown to such proportions it now encompasses children—even your own son!'
A dreadful silence fell, a silence so complete that the ticking of a brass ship's clock hung just above the fireplace filled every corner of the room strewn with relics of bygone whaling days. Small wonder I'm not allowed in here even to dust, she fretted while she waited with head downcast to be reprimanded; of all the rooms in the house, this, the captain's den, was the most aggressively masculine.
Predictably, his answer when it came was lance-sharp. 'Like all women, you're quick to jump to wrong conclusions. I have no wife, and Vulcan is not my son!'
'Not…?' Her blue eyes re
flected puzzlement. 'But Vulcan has often referred to you as his father?'
'Then the boy is a liar!'
'No, I must have… misunderstood,' she stammered, recalling the child's wicked delight in teasing and the amusement she had afforded him whenever she had rebuked him for using his father's Christian name. Colour rushed to her cheeks as his unkind glance swept her embarrassed face; she felt deserving of the contempt he obviously had for her very feminine reasoning.
He flicked her a look that stung before striding towards the window to train far-sighted mariner's eyes upon rolling hills, dipping and heaving like a sea of petrified waves. 'My family's affairs are none of your business, but to avoid further faulty conjecture on your part, I'd better explain. Vulcan is my brother's child,' he informed her austerely, without turning his head. 'Britt, my twin, has always been an impulsive devil, even as a child he^ was for ever in trouble with our father for in— subordination. Whichever rule he disagreed with he simply ignored, with dire consequences. We were none of us surprised when, during his early days at a naval training establishment, he became involved with a girl who, after a ridiculously short courtship, became his wife. Vulcan is the only good that came of that disastrous alliance. As the girl had no close relatives she stayed here at Dane Dyke until her child was born, then a few weeks later, after a storming row with Britt, she returned to the city for which she was pining, leaving Britt and the baby without a qualm. Naturally, divorce proceedings were instituted, but before they were finalized our father died. Britt stayed only until after the funeral, then he, too, disappeared leaving a note stating he needed breathing space, time to think, before deciding what was to be done about his son.
'That was the last I heard from him,' he concluded, his voice shocking in its grimness. Then quietly, speaking almost to himself, she heard him went on, 'According to my father, Britt took after our mother—the wife he had sworn to hate—yet I always felt that of the two of us Britt was his favourite…'
Raine's heart jolted, glimpsing the hurt behind the whispered words, words that betrayed the bewilderment of a youth who had modelled himself upon a father he worshipped only to discover that the brother whose lesser qualities he had often heard scorned had somehow stolen the affection he himself had craved. He would have scoffed had he known how deeply she was touched on his behalf, her pity was so fierce she felt it as a physical pain— never again would she tremble before his piercing eyes nor be cowed by his powerful roar, Thor, the intimidating giant, had once been and could be again—vulnerable to love!
With difficulty she husked a question past a lump in her throat. 'So you sacrificed your own career in order to bring up Vulcan, allowed your brother to unload his responsibilities, left him free to pursue his own pleasures?'
The still figure stirred, then after slight hesitation replied without heat, 'Britt, although frivolous in outlook, inherited much of our ancestors' flair for seamanship. Few can equal his skill as a navigator, even as a cadet he showed such outstanding promise that his superiors had no hesitation in forecasting a brilliant career. One can hardly blame him for striving to ensure his talents were not wasted.'
'But what about your talents?' she argued fiercely, blinking back tears pricking behind her eyelids. 'I refuse to believe, Captain Halden, that they are any less than your brother's… you're too modest… too kind…' As her voice broke so did the dam of tears brought into being by her new, deeper insight into the character of this giant with the gentle heart.
She heard his gasp of amazement as he swung away from the window and feeling swamped by waves of embarrassment she fumbled in her pockets for a handkerchief in order to avoid meeting his incredulous look. When a white square of linen was thrust under her nose she grasped it with an incoherent murmur of thanks.
'Tears? For me… ?'
She looked up and saw that he was nonplussed, struggling to restore the shell that had cracked under the pressure of a woman's tears. No one had ever cried on his behalf, she realized with a jolt. No one had ever taken the trouble to care about the neglected boy grown into an even more solitary man.
'I'm sorry,' she jerked, controlling an errant sob, 'you must think me a fool. It's just that it all seems so .wrong! Why should you suffer the price of your brother's misdemeanours? Your happiness is every bit as important as his.'
He rocked on his heels, surprised by her vehemence, then before her astonished eyes his face be? came transformed by a slow smile that bared a flash of white teeth and which for a moment even reached his eyes, adding a softening glow to their usual biting gleam.
'Thank you for thinking so.' He did not unbend far enough to relinquish his clipped coolness, but nevertheless she felt a glow of warmth that had nothing to do with the mildness of the day. Curbing a shocking impulse to embrace the tall, solitary man, she waited, afraid to speak in case words should shatter the calm of the first understanding moment they had ever shared. Her diplomacy did not go unrewarded. 'Perhaps I have been a little harsh on the boy,' his voice grated on the unwilling admission. Then hesitantly, the words were torn out of him. 'The house has been much more cheerful since you came—brighter, somehow.' He waved a vague hand. Tires lighted on chilly evenings, splashes of colour in dark corners, the gleam of polished wood…'He stopped, looking slightly uncomfortable at having betrayed such sentiments, but he had said enough to erase the memory of all" the back-breaking labour she had expended, all the more tiring because she had thought the results ignored.
'I like housework,' she smiled, dwarfed by the massive-shouldered, lean-hipped giant within whose shadow she felt safe and protected.
'Strange girl.' She loved his slow, grave smile. 'Britt's wife hated it, she said it roughened her hands and split her nails. My mother was also reputed to x»e very much averse to such chores.'
She dared an opinion to which she had given much thought. 'I think both your father and your brother must have been either very thoughtless or else lacking in judgement. After all, who in his right mind would expect a hot-house plant to survive conditions on an open moor? Is it so surprising that women reared on the pleasures of city life should rebel against the totally different life style 'of the country? Mariners have a reputation of being far-sighted, deep-thinking men,' she concluded, 'yet your father and brother both, it seems to me, were unable to see beyond a pretty face.'
She had transgressed, she realized; immediately his expression changed to one of deep distaste. His loyalty was such that he was not yet ready to hear his family disparaged.
'I can't deny that you may be right, but I do deny you the right to express such an opinion,' he rebuked her coldly. Swiftly he withdrew, turning his back on the boyish, tangled-haired figure with the distressed face, and flung a dismissal across his shoulder. 'Vulcan will no doubt be waiting to learn his fate. As my previous orders have already been retracted you don't need my permission to go to him!'
CHAPTER FIVE
As if ashamed of his small interlude of weakness, Thor became even more unapproachable during the days that followed, remaining reserved and silent during the rare times he was present to share their meals. Vulcan, however, as if sensing an escape from near-disaster, became more biddable and as the riding lessons progressed his piping laughter was heard rising more and more often from the direction of the paddock. As his enjoyment grew so did his affection for Luci, and feeling very much shut out Raine suffered small pangs of envy as she was relegated to the edge of the magic circle she so yearned to share. On odd occasions, the prematurely-mature infant forgot his dignity and relaxed his guard. Those moments—always surprising— were infinitely sweet.
They were sauntering back to the house after a particularly enjoyable session with Luci when, during a spate of animated conversation, Vulcan reached out to slip small, sweaty fingers into her palm. Tentatively, she responded by tightening her grasp and when his fingers were not withdrawn she smiled down at the freckled urchin with the large, earnest eyes and a shock of startling hair.
'It's very good
of you to teach me to ride,' he admitted gruffly. 'I don't think you are a hippy or a tramp, and if you were as lazy as Simeon says you wouldn't bother to do any work at all—especially not housework.'
'Simeon still doesn't trust me, does he?' she murmured wryly, hurt by the old man's stubborn refusal to accord her any virtues.
'No,' he answered truthfully, wrinkling his nose, 'but you needn't worry about the things he says, no one really believes you're out to sink claws into Thor—anyway, as Mr Mitchell pointed out, Thor's not the marrying kind…"
Her gasp of indignation was drowned by the roar of a powerful engine. They both halted, conversation forgotten as they digested the unusual sight of a sleek car crammed with luggage racing up the drive. 'Who can that be?' she wondered aloud, feeling unreasonably apprehensive.
'Probably tourists,’ Vulcan shrugged. 'We often get them coming to the door asking for directions.'
But when they eventually rounded the corner of the house and reached the car they found it was deserted. Luggage was still piled in the back, but both the driver's and passenger's seats were empty. Then from inside the house they heard a voice, familiar yet unfamiliar, deep-timbred yet registering an unusual amount of amusement.
'The old place hasn't .changed one bit—a little tidier, perhaps, but still retaining every iota of its forbidding grimness! Can you feel it, my love, that atmosphere of prudish uprightness that first drove us away?"
A tinkling laugh reached their ears. 'Indeed I can,' a woman's voice answered, 'but thank heaven, this time we're not obliged to stay.'
When the voices moved out of earshot they remained rooted to the spot, digesting the information that had unwittingly come their way.
'Was it Thor, do you think?' Vulcan faltered. 'It sounded just like him, yet…"
'No,' Raine stated with conviction. 'The voice was Thor's, but the sentiments and the way which they were expressed were completely alien. Anyway, Thor would never willingly bring a woman to Danes' Dyke———'
The Girl at Danes' Dyke - Margaret Rome Page 4
