Bethan's first impulse was to give the girl the assurance she wanted, to deny that Fraser had ever been more to her than her best friend's brother. But
Siriol wasn't a fool. She had already picked up the tension that Bethan couldn't deny existed between herself and the man Siriol was going to marry. If no more damage was to be done then Siriol deserved the truth, however much her own pride might suffer.
`No, I can't deny it,' she said quietly, and seeing Siriol flinch she went on firmly. `But I can assure you that whatever there was between us was entirely on my side. I was very young, Siriol, younger than you are now, and I'd hero-worshipped Fraser since I was thirteen years old, so it wasn't really so surprising that I fell in love with him.'
'And Fraser?' Siriol said tensely. `Did he ?'
Bethan took a deep breath to armour herself against a truth that could still hurt. `Fraser wasn't very kind. He made it absolutely clear he preferred far more sophisticated ladies, glamorous models usually.'
`I—I see.' Siriol's eyes were wide and searching but there was sympathy and understanding there too. `He must have hurt you very much,' she said quietly. 'And you still love him, don't you?'
Bethan wanted to deny it, but the betraying colour crept up her cheeks. Had she really been so obvious? `Perhaps you should call it a case of arrested development,' she suggested drily. `When you come a cropper off a horse the answer is to get straight back on again to restore your confidence. Perhaps if things had been different and I'd been in a position to fall in love with someone else I'd have got him out of my system, but there's been no room in my life these last ten years for relationships with men. So you see, Siriol, there's no cause for you to worry. Fraser didn't return my feelings then, and he certainly doesn't now.'
She hoped the humbling of her pride would be enough to reassure Siriol but there was still a lurking doubt in the younger girl's face. `I wish I could be sure of that, Bethan, but I've seen the way he looks at you.'
`You're mistaken.' Bethan was remembering again
Fraser's appalled expression when he had seen her scars. 'He feels sorry for me, nothing more than that. He knows I ruined my life with one stupid, irresponsible act.'
And still Siriol didn't seem satisfied. 'He said there had been misunderstandings,' she ventured. `I wondered ..
Did Siriol want to strip her of everything, her pride and her self-respect? Bethan wondered. There were some things she couldn't tell her. 'It's a long story and not really relevant any more. But yes, someone did make mischief,' she admitted warily. `And Fraser knows the truth now. But those misunderstandings couldn't have happened in the first place if he'd cared at all for me. I accepted that long ago.'
She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes to conceal just how painful that acceptance had been—still was. But she was unable to conceal the strain in her fine-drawn features or the trembling of her vulnerable mouth.
`I'm sorry if I've upset you, Bethan,' Siriol said uncertainly. 'It's just that I've been so afraid you were going to take Fraser from me.'
Slow anger began to churn through Bethan. Why couldn't Siriol have spoken to Fraser about her fears? He' would have demolished them quickly enough. Did the gill have no imagination? No pity? She'd already forced Bethan into admitting she still loved Fraser, so couldn't she see how unfair it was to ask her for the reassurance she craved?
And then the anger died to be replaced by a painful compassion. Siriol was head over heels in love with Fraser, and loving him so much herself, Bethan could identify with the other girl's uncertainty and pain.
`Siriol, I couldn't take him away from you even if I wanted to,' she said wearily. `And I don't want to. It's been—hard, meeting Fraser again, seeing him happy with someone else. But I'm glad it's someone like you.
The girl he once preferred to me—well, let's just say I don't think she would have made him happy, whereas I'm sure you will.'
'Oh Bethan, you don't know how I had to screw up my courage to have this talk with you, but I'm glad I did.' Impulsively Siriol leaned across and hugged her. `You're nice, and I hated feeling jealous of you.'
Bethan knew exactly what she meant because she had struggled with the same feelings herself, and must go on struggling with them. 'It's Fraser you should have talked to about your fears,' she said drily. 'He'd soon have told you how needless they were.'
'You're probably right.' Siriol switched on the ignition and reversed out of the parking-space, her mood ebullient again. 'Trouble is,' she admitted wryly, 'I'm still a bit in awe of him. I mean, he's not the kind of man one can take one's troubles to, is he?'
Bethan stared at her in astonishment. Hadn't she spent her own teenage years doing just that, taking her troubles to Fraser and finding comfort? How much more easily should Siriol have been able to confide in him, loving him as she did and in a position to expect his loyalty? She told herself that Siriol was still very young and for all her veneer of sophistication, not as sure of herself as she liked to pretend.
she felt quite wrung out by the time Siriol dropped her offhat Vine House and would have welcomed time to herself to regain her composure, but Lorna was lying in wait for her, demanding to see her purchases.
'Oh, I'm so glad you bought something pretty, Bethan,' she exclaimed delightedly when she saw the black skirt and blouse with its gold accessories. 'It'll be just the thing for you to wear tonight. Siriol's father is coming to dinner.' Her eyes twinkled. 'A charming man, but the kind one rather likes to keep one's end up with, if you know what I mean.'
Bethan wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that and looked so apprehensive that Lorna laughed. 'Oh dear,
I
now you're imagining some kind of ogre, and I didn't intend that at all. Don't worry, my dear, you have just the kind of natural, inbred elegance that will appeal to him, and wearing that new outfit you'll have him eating out of your hand.'
Bethan shook her head disbelievingly, but later when they were both ready to go down to dinner, Lorna triumphant, having insisted on seating Bethan at her dressing-table to add a touch of make-up to complete the transformation her new outfit made to her appearance, she felt a stirring of uneasiness as she stared back at the unfamiliar image in the mirror. This morning Siriol had bared her heart, desperately seeking reassurance that Bethan did not have designs on her fiancé. Bethan still knew she had neither the will nor the power to steal Fraser's affections, but would Siriol believe .that? Wouldn't she wonder that Bethan appeared to have made a special effort to look attractive tonight?
But they were doubts she was unable to share with Lorna and she had no alternative but to give her employer her arm to help her from the room. It was unfortunate that just as they reached the turn in the stairs, Fraser should be at the door admitting their guests. They all three looked up, Fraser's hands arrested in the process of helping his fiancée off with her fur' jacket. The expressions in those three pairs of eyes were varied: Siriol, as Bethan had feared, looked shocked and accusing, while the thickset, grey-haired man at her side betrayed the fact that he had expected something far different. But it was the expression of Fraser's face that held her riveted gaze, an expression she had seen there only once before, that night in the summerhouse at Merrifields when he had slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders and gazed at her naked breasts.
It was Lorna who broke the spell that bound them all. 'George! How nice to see you again.' She held out
her hands in welcome as Bethan helped her down the remaining steps.
Bethan hung back as the old friends greeted each other and Fraser continued his interrupted movement of lifting the fur from Siriol's bare shoulders, but then Lorna was calling, 'Bethan, my dear, come and be introduced. This is Siriol's father, George Miles.'
Watching Siriol clutching Fraser's arm possessively, she was glad to turn away to the girl's father, only to find herself held in his assessing stare, eyes as dark as his daughter's but infinitely harder.
`Ah, the little nurse.' Georg
e Miles took her outstretched hand in a crushing grip, the heavy gold ring on his fourth finger biting into her flesh.
'How do you do, Mr Miles,' she responded with more composure than she felt, suspecting his greeting had been calculated to put her in her place.
The painful pressure on her hand slackened but he didn't release her, confounding her by saying jovially, 'Oh call me George, or are you trying to make me feel past being able to appreciate a beautiful woman by being so formal? You're a sly dog, Fraser, not letting on what a little stunner you've been harbouring under your roof.'
Fraser looked unaccountably angry and Bethan was at loss to know how to handle this middle-aged man's gallantry, which was both heavy-handed and unexpected. It was Lorna who came to her rescue.
'Stop flirting with Bethan, George. She's much too wise to be taken in by it.'
George grinned at his hostess. 'You're only jealous. And you can stop glowering at me too, Fraser. I've given you my daughter so don't begrudge me this small consolation.' He gave Bethan's hand a final bone-crushing squeeze before releasing her at last and offering his arm to Lorna, escorting her to her chair in the sitting-room. But it was Bethan he chose to sit beside on one of the sofas, much too close for her
comfort, plying her with flowery compliments until she squirmed with embarrassment.
The chaffing from his father-in-law-to-be had not improved Fraser's expression, and he dispensed the drinks still glowering. Bethan tried not to look at him but even staring down at her hands clasped nervously in her lap he filled her vision. Formally dressed tonight he seemed bigger and more devastatingly attractive than ever, his dark dinner-jacket fitting snugly across his broad shoulders, the strong column of his neck looking even more deeply tanned against the blue whiteness of his pleated shirtfront.
She stole a glance at him to find him looking at her, his grey eyes angry, his jaw set. 'Bethan, perhaps you'd be good enough to fetch some more ice,' he suggested coldly.
Scrambling to her feet she was glad to escape to the kitchen, discovering only when she got there that the ice bucket he had handed her was still more than half full. She lingered in the kitchen as long as she dared, relieved to see the dinner was almost ready to be served.
When she returned to the sitting-room she pretended not to see George Miles pat the seat beside him invitingly. The dinner-trolley's on its way,' she said quietly to Lorna. Perhaps you'd like me to help you get to the table.'
She was pleased to find herself seated between Lorna and Fraser, looking out on to the still sunlit garden, and under the influence of Molly's superb cooking the atmosphere became more convivial, George Miles ceasing his heavy-handed flirtation in favour of more general conversation and Fraser losing his glowering expression and responding while Siriol sparkled between the pair of them. Bethan slowly began to relax. Perhaps this awful evening wasn't going to turn out too badly after all.
She looked across interestedly when Siriol said, 'I
hope you won't be going into hospital before the midsummer party, Lorna. You just have to be there.'
'As it's not for another couple of weeks there's every chance I shall miss it this year,' Lorna grimaced. 'But you'll be able to go, Bethan.' She brightened up immediately. 'You'll love it. George and Siriol throw their house open and people come from far and wide. It's become quite a tradition since they moved into the Old Vicarage. The Saturday night nearest to Midsummer Day.'
Everything in Bethan shied away from the idea. She didn't want to spend yet another evening watching Siriol and Fraser together, building up the traditions that would make up their lives. It was too painful. Neither did she want to give George Miles another opportunity to pay her his unwelcome attentions.
'If you're able to go then of course I'll be glad to go with you,' she said quietly. 'But I couldn't go alone.'
'Nonsense, my dear, of course you can,' Lorna declared. 'You won't be alone anyway. Fraser will take you.'
'Of course,' Fraser agreed, his voice expressionless.
'Oh no.' Bethan glanced at him quickly and away again, feeling the tension rising tangibly between them and .noticing that neither Siriol nor her father were adding their persuasions. 'Fraser will be there with Siriol,' she said to Lorna, 'which is as it should be. Parties aren't in my line, Lorna. I'd be embarrassed not knowing anyone.'
'But that's why I want you to go,' Lorna wailed. 'It'll be an opportunity for you to meet some young people, make some friends. And if I have to miss all the fun, how am I going to hear about it unless you tell me? Fraser certainly won't. He never notices the important things.'
'Like who's wearing what and who's gossiping about whom,' Fraser put in slyly. 'Give in gracefully, Bethan, and spare me that particular cross-examination. It's not
as if you have the excuse you've nothing to wear. It'll be a chance to give that lovely silk caftan hanging in your wardrobe an airing.'
The sudden silence was deafening, and mortified colour rose up Bethan's neck and flooded her cheeks as she could hear the other three people at the table speculating how Fraser knew what she had in her wardrobe.
'Well, if you already have something to wear.' Lorna broke the silence. 'Though I was rather looking forward to taking you shopping to buy something spectacular.'
This is pretty spectacular,' Fraser said drily, as if unaware of the speculation his remark had caused.
Her face as white now as it had been scarlet moments ago, Bethan lifted her chin. 'It was a get-well present from my colleagues at the hospital in Beirut,' she explained to the table at large. 'I happened to comment to Fraser that, lovely as it is, a warm sweater would have been more practical.'
As an explanation of Fraser's remark she knew it wasn't terribly convincing, but she was relieved to see some of the jealous uncertainty fade from Siriol's face. The girl's father, though, was still studying her with hard, sceptical eyes.
Bethan's hands were still shaking when they returned to the sitting-room for coffee and Lorna asked her to hand out the cups. She was bending over the tray and didn't see Fraser come up behind her on the pretext of helping, so when he said in an undertone, 'Bethan, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you,' she was startled into looking up at him.
The mixture of expressions she saw in his face held her transfixed; frustration, a kind of hunted anger, and strangest of all, something that might have been tenderness. That, and the note of genuine contrition in his voice undermined her defences and unknowingly her delicate features mirrored all her hurt and longing.
There was an answering flare in Fraser's grey eyes
before they darkened and the comfortable sitting-room with the rest of its occupants receded. The very air seemed to pulsate around them as she was caught in the forcefield of his magnetism, held as immovably as iron to a lodestone.
George Miles's voice reached her as if from a distance. 'Now Lorna's operation is set to go ahead, maybe it's time we fixed a date for the wedding eh, Fraser? Especially as I understand your sister's coming over from Australia. Couldn't be a better time to have it than while she's here.'
Fraser's jaw clenched and what looked like sheer fury blazed momentarily from his eyes, but it was gone so quickly as he turned towards his prospective father-in-law that Bethan knew she must have been mistaken.
'Changed your tune, haven't you, George?' he said mildly. 'Two months ago you were insisting we waited six months to be sure Siriol knew her own mind.' He calmly carried coffee-cups to his aunt and his fiancée.
'You mean you've changed your mind, Daddy?' Siriol gasped delightedly. 'You're not going to make us wait?'
Bethan bent her head over the tray again, wishing herself anywhere but here, a captive listener to a conversation that was deeply painful to her, but George Miles's indulgent voice boomed out. 'I'll grant I had a few Misgivings, puss, wondering if you weren't letting yourself he dazzled by the attentions of a sophisticated older man.' He took the cup Fraser held out to him, and although the tone of his voice was still indulgent, Bethan glimpsed the
hardness in his eyes. 'But Siriol's convinced me she really does know what she wants, so I'm withdrawing that condition, my boy.'
'Daddy!' With a squeal of delight Siriol threw herself at her father and hugged him. 'Oh Daddy, thank you. Isn't that marvellous, Fraser?' She looked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 'We can get married straight away!'
Bethan didn't think she could stand any more. She
had actually picked up the coffee-pot as an excuse to get herself out of the room to refill it before Fraser spoke. 'When you say straight away, are you contemplating an unseemly dash to the nearest register office?' he asked sardonically. 'What about your plans for a big splash—white lace and orange-blossom, a bevy of bridesmaids and a marquee on the lawn?'
Siriol looked dashed as if these things meant a lot to her, but her father said easily, 'It'll be in church and everything can be exactly as Siriol wants it. What's the use of having money if you can't make folks dance to the tune of it? Of course we'll still need time to arrange things—say six weeks, perhaps. Lorna will be out of hospital by then, your sister should still be here and so will your little friend.' His hard gaze flicked to Bethan. `As she's an old family friend she wouldn't want to miss your wedding.'
Flinching, Bethan put the coffee-pot back on the tray with a bump. Of course she had known all along Fraser and Siriol would be married sometime in the near future, but she had assumed it wouldn't be until after she had returned to her old life with the relief agency, when she would have too much to occupy her to allow herself to think about it. She certainly had never imagined she would have to witness it herself. A Creeping coldness gripped her, a sense of being cut off for ever from the source of all warmth.
`I'm sure your money talks as loud as the next man's, George,' Fraser said smoothly, 'but there are other considerations.'
George Miles's eyes narrowed. 'Name one.'
`I can name at least four.' Fraser's head came up challengingly and Bethan wondered why he wasn't as eager as Siriol was to avail himself of her father's change of heart. Perhaps he didn't like to feel he was being manipulated. 'In the first place, Lorna hasn't even been given the date for her admission into hospital yet, so I doubt very much if she'll be up to
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