the strain of attending a wedding in only six weeks' time.'
'Oh, you mustn't let me influence things, Fraser,' Lorna said at once. 'I could always use a wheel-chair if I can't make it under my own steam.'
`That's one objection out of the way,' George grunted.
`Secondly, it's highly unlikely my sister can extend her visit for so long this time,' Fraser went on as if neither of them had spoken. 'Thirdly, six weeks will bring us right into the busiest time in the farming community, which will make it impossible for most of my family and friends to attend.'
`Your sister will stay on if you ask her to,' George barked, making no attempt to hide his displeasure. `And your family and friends are all in a position to take one day off, however busy they are.' The tone of his voice changed, smooth but with an underlying threat. 'Or are you no longer in such pressing need of my backing for your drive to export venison to Germany?'
Not by the movement of a muscle did Fraser's face betray a reaction to the threat, or even that he had heard it, but having been on the receiving end more than once, Bethan recognised the waves of anger emanating from him by his stance. 'And fourthly,' he clipped out, 'and after that remark, George, by far the most important consideration, not only Siriol but I too need the full six months to be certain marriage is what we want.'
'Fraser!' Siriol couldn't have sounded more wounded if Fraser had physically struck her. 'Darling, you don't mean it!'
The aggression draining out of him, he raked both his hands through his hair and there was compassion in his face as he looked down at her. `Siriol, you're young, highly intelligent and very beautiful,' he said gently. 'You have too much going for you that you need your father to buy you a husband.'
Siriol stared up at him in hurt bewilderment. 'I don't know what you mean, Fraser.' Tears welled up in her eyes. 'I love you, you know I do.'
Fraser hesitated, obviously affected by her tears, but then shooting a hard glance at her father, he stepped back. `Siriol, this is neither the time nor the place.'
`I'm inclined to agree,' Lorna put in firmly. 'The date of their wedding is something that should be decided by the young people themselves, George without our interference. Fraser, I think I should like a little brandy with my coffee.'
`Far be it from me to interfere. I only wanted them to know they don't have to wait if they don't want to.' George Miles's voice was mild and conciliatory as he stood up, but when he crossed the room to return his cup to the tray, Bethan was sure he was feeling far from conciliatory. She could understand his wish to see his pretty daughter happy, but not his methods of achieving that end. Did he really intend to withdraw his backing from the business project if Fraser didn't do as he wanted? And would Fraser eventually bow to that pressure? Either way Bethan couldn't see it augured well for Fraser's happiness. And though her heart ached with the knowledge that inevitably their ways must soon part again, she did want him to be happy.
`I'm afraid we've shocked Bethan with our little argument.' George Miles was smiling at her, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and when he reached out playfully to pat her cheek she had to steel herself not to draw away. 'She's gone quite pale. What you need, my dear, is a breath of fresh air. Come, you and I will take a turn in the garden.' He leered at her. 'It's not often I get the chance to stroll in the moonlight with a pretty woman.'
Bethan recoiled from the idea of spending any time alone with this man. His heavy-handed flirtatiousness embarrassed her and she found his ruthlessness frightening. But wouldn't she be doing Fraser and Siriol
a favour if she distracted him for a while? It would have been better if the couple could have been persuaded to spend a little time together in the garden to make up their differences, but failing that, she could at least ensure George Miles didn't return to the offensive. So reluctantly she allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm and lead her out of the sitting-room, through the french window and into the garden.
But though his grip on her hand tightened when she would have drawn it away, he made no attempt to follow up his earlier flirtatious remarks as he led her along one of the paths, the scent of lavender and verbena rising up as her skirts brushed them. In fact he was silent until they reached the sundial in the centre of the knot-garden where he stopped, planting himself uncompromisingly in her path and forcing her to halt too. And there was none of his earlier gallantry in his voice when he demanded harshly, 'Well, Nurse Steele, how much do you want to take yourself off?'
The moon he had promised hung round and yellow over the vineyard and as it was almost midsummer there was still enough light to see clearly the pugnacious jut of his jaw and the ruthless gleam in his eyes. Bethan gasped. 'I beg your pardon?'
`I think I made myself perfectly clear,' he said insolently. 'How much is it going to cost me to persuade you to go away and leave Fraser Laurie alone?'
Anger scorched through her at his brash insensitivity. Who did he think he was, to offer such an insult? As if money was the answer to everything, first trying to buy Fraser and now herself. Withering words rose to her tongue as she forced down the impulse to tell him just what he could do with his money, for some sixth sense told her she would be playing into his hands if she lost her temper.
Drawing away from him she said coldly, 'You can save your money, Mr Miles. Fraser isn't, and never has been, in any danger from me.'
'Don't play games with me, girlie.' He grasped her arm, swinging her round as she made to move back to the house. 'I've seen the way you give him the come-on. And I've seen him eating you with his eyes. You might have been lovers once, but he belongs to my girl now, so I'm telling you, hands off.'
Only by reminding herself that this man's distasteful attack was prompted by his concern—misplaced though it was—for his daughter's happiness, was Bethan able to hang on to her dignity. 'Fraser and I have never been lovers. He never saw me as anything more than his sister's schoolfriend. I doubt if he ever gave me so much as a passing thought in the ten years since I knew him before, and our meeting again now was purely accidental. I'm sorry if my presence here has given you cause for concern, but believe me, you have no reason for it. As soon as I've seen Lorna through her operation I'll be going abroad again, back to my old job.'
'And in the meantime?' George Miles's eyes narrowed. 'Fraser won't break his engagement to marry a penniless little nobody like you, you know. Lust, that's all it is, basic, old-fashioned lust. So why not accept my offer and come out of this with cash in your hand?'
.Dear God, would this destructive encounter never end? Bethan was trembling and nauseous. 'I've told you, I don't want your money.' Her voice shook however hard she tried to control it. 'Neither have I any desire to take Fraser away from Siriol, even if it were possible.'
'Do you think I was born yesterday?' he sneered. 'I recognise a girl on the make when I see one. And no man's going to turn down what's so blatantly offered, certainly not a man like Fraser. But I'm damned if I'm going to let you break my little girl's heart.' As he spoke he glanced over her shoulder, back towards the house, then his arms snaked out, dragging her against him. 'If you're so eager for a bit of fun to while away
the monotony, why not try me? I can give you as good a time as he can.'
Even as she drew a breath to tell him what she thought if his insulting suggestion, his mouth came down crushingly on hers. She recoiled in revulsion, her skin crawling at his touch as she tried to break his hold on her. At last she managed to twist her head away. 'You disgust me!' Violently she brought her arms up and down again, forcing him to release her and fled away back to the house, intent only on seeking the privacy of her own room.
Her eyes blinded by tears, she didn't see the tall figure standing in the open french windows until she cannoned into him. 'What the hell's going on?' Fraser demanded furiously, dragging her across the hall into his study, too angry to close the door behind him before he was shaking her. 'He kissed you!'
Bethan shuddered deeply, her hand coming
up to wipe her mouth as if she would wipe away the memory. 'If you think he got me out there to make love to me, you're wrong,' she quavered, on the edge of hysteria. 'Kissing me was only his final insult. Before that he offered me money to take myself off.'
'I'll kill him!' Fraser's livid rage took her by surprise. 'I've taken all I can stand from that man tonight.' He moved towards the door, determination to force a show-down evident in every line of his tense stride, and in that split second, much as she would have liked to see her tormentor measuring his length on the ground, she knew she had to stop it happening.
'No, Fraser, please.' She seized his arm, hanging on when he would have dragged free of her. 'Oh please, it'll only cause more trouble. I should never have told you, and I wouldn't have, only ' She gave a dry sob, knowing it would only fuel his temper if she admitted just how much the incident had upset her. 'Don't you see?' she persisted. 'If you rush out there to my defence, it'll only confirm his suspicions.'
He stopped trying to brush her off and caught her hand. 'What suspicions?'
Too late she could see herself being dragged in deeper. 'Oh, please, can't we just let it drop?' she pleaded.
'What exactly has George Miles been accusing you of?' He put the question softly, almost gently, but there was an implacable note in his voice that told her he meant to have an answer.
'It's all so silly.' Embarrassment put colour into her white cheeks. 'He—he has the ridiculous idea that I'm some sort of femme fatale with designs on you, and that you find me more attractive than you should. He—he seems to believe there's something between us. We know it's a ludicrous suggestion, but you must see that if you make an issue over it, Siriol's going to be hurt.' She gazed up at him with drowning green eyes, her vulnerable mouth trembling.
The twist of Fraser's mouth was wry, even while his eyes burned with a strange fire. 'Is it so ludicrous, Beth? Hasn't there always been something between us? I only ever had to touch you.' His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, drawing her against him, his head coming down so slowly that surely she could have moved away? And then his mouth was claiming hers, gently, almost tentatively at first, as if relearning the contours, the texture, the taste, and it was too late to deny him as she drowned in a sea of sensual sensation. The passion this one man had always been able to elicit blazed up, burning all the more fiercely for having lain dormant for ten years, within seconds out of control.
The blind response of her mouth and yielding body, of her urgently seeking hands, had him shuddering against her, his kiss deepening with the ravening hunger of a starving man, his arms crushing her possessively, his body enveloping her as if he would absorb it into himself. For Bethan there was no past and no future,
just this present terrible aching need to lose herself in this man, to be one with him, part of him forever.
So utterly absorbed were they in needs that had been denied too long, neither heard the door pushed wider. Even Siriol's distressed wail. 'Fraser ... how could you?' took several seconds to impinge.
Bethan swayed drunkenly as Fraser let her go, taking longer to come back to earth than he, and it was a crash-landing when she saw the guilt with which he faced his fiancée. `Siriol ... I'm sorry. I never intended this to happen.'
'What do you mean? You didn't intend to kiss her, or you didn't intend that I should see you doing it?' Siriol challenged tearfully.
'I didn't intend—oh hell!' He swore helplessly, running his hands through his hair. 'Siriol, we have to talk.' He put out a hand appealingly but she struck it away.
`Talk! Talk! Were you talking to her? I hate her. I hate you both!' With a sob she spun on her heel and fled.
`Bethan.' He turned back to her and for one horrified moment she thought he was going to take her in his arms again, to carry on from where his fiancée had interrupted them. Burning with an uncontrollable heat only moments ago, she was now encased in ice, deeply ashamed of her mindless response to Fraser's lovemaking.
Lovemaking! What Fraser had been offering had nothing to do with love. It had been merely lust, and she shouldn't have needed George Miles's warning to tell her that when she had her own experience to go on.
'Beth ... don't go,' he said thickly as she evaded him and reached the door.
But she ignored the plea in his voice as she said bitterly, 'You always did enjoy playing one girl off against another, didn't you, Fraser? Well it looks as if you've done it once too often. If you have any hopes of
staying engaged to Siriol, then you'd better go after her.'
'Bethan, I don't want—'
'You don't want!' Her anger was all the more bitter for having been allowed that one glimpse of heaven before having it snatched away. 'Fraser, have you any conception of what you've done to that poor girl? How much you've hurt her? Take it from me, I know. I've been there.' She walked quickly away across the hall and up the stairs, leaving him grey-faced.
CHAPTER NINE
A FORTNIGHT later Bethan walked out of the London hospital into the noon-day sun. She felt odd, enormously relieved, and yet still with that niggling unease. She ought to take a taxi to the flat but she was loath to go back there when it made her feel so uncomfortable. Sighing, she knew she had no alternative when there were phone calls she had to make, but to put off the evil moment she decided to walk.
It had been marvellous to see Lorna sitting up and looking so much more like her usual bright self this morning. Last night when they had allowed Bethan a few moments with her she had still been drowsy after the anaesthetic and frighteningly pale and frail from the strain of the operation, and Bethan had felt the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders.
Of course Lorna's first question this morning had been to ask if she had heard from Fraser yet, and Bethan had had to admit she hadn't, though she had gone on to assure Lorna she had telephoned her family at Merrifields, and that some of them would be coming to see her today. It hadn't been the answer Lorna wanted to hear, and Bethan knew the older woman was as puzzled and worried by Fraser's inexplicable disappearance as she was herself.
At first, the morning after that dreadful evening when George Miles had come to dinner, Bethan had felt nothing but relief when Lorna told her Fraser had gone off to London. She had no idea whether he had healed the breach wih his fiancée before he left and as she had seen nothing of Siriol or her father either in the ensuing days, she still had no clue. And she told herself it was no business of hers anyway.
It was only when, a week after his departure, Dr Stratton had told Lorna there would be a bed for her at the hospital the following Thursday, that his absence became a source of concern. Repeated phone calls to his London apartment brought no reply, and no one at Merrifields knew where he was. After several days they managed to ascertain that he had been in London and had later flown on to Germany, but where he had gone from there remained a mystery.
In his absence all the arrangements for Lorna's journey to London and admittance to hospital fell on Bethan. Not that she minded—the Flowerdews were a tower of strength, Ernie organising the journey in the Rover but apart from the niggling anxiety about Fraser's well-being, Bethan worried about whether she was doing things as he would have wanted, especially when Lorna and Ernie insisted she make herself at home in Fraser's London flat to be on hand for visiting.
Conveniently situated for the hospital, it wasn't a large flat, and though tastefully furnished it had no atmosphere of being a home. When Ernie had taken her there after they had seen Lorna comfortably settled, Bethan had felt prickly with embarrassed unease. Suppose they found Fraser in occupation! But when Ernie used his key to let them in, the place had an empty silence.
Ernie showed her round briefly, the sitting-room with its dining alcove and kitchen leading off, the two bedrooms with the bathroom in between. He showed her the larger of the two bedrooms first with its king-size bed, suggesting this might be the most comfortable for her, but guessing it was where Fraser slept, she hastily declined, opting instead for the twin-bedd
ed guest-room. The thought of using Fraser's bed had a seductive appeal, but suppose he came back and found her there!
Nevertheless, after Ernie had seen she had everything she would need and had left to go back to Vine House, Bethan felt drawn back to the master bedroom.
Furnished in shades of brown and cream, it was essentially a masculine room, though with little of Fraser's impelling personality stamped on it. But for a shelf of paperback books by the bedhead and a pair of hairbrushes lying on the dressing-table, it could have been a room in a better-class hotel. Perhaps something of Fraser himself could be found behind the closed wardrobe doors, but the urge to look was quelled by the feeling of being an intruder and she left the room quickly.
Warming up the pie and fruit tart Molly Flowerdew had sent along, Bethan had her dinner and watched television for a while before she went to bed, and still she had that uncomfortable feeling of intruding where she had no right to be, so much so that she hadn't been able to bring herself to unpack. The feeling had still been with her that morning and she had left the flat gladly for her visit to the hospital.
Perhaps, she thought, looking up at the façade of the modern block when she reached it, she could go out somewhere for lunch after she had made her phone calls. The lift whisked her up to the fourth floor and she took out the key Ernie had left with her and fitted it into the lock. But she hadn't had time to turn it when the door was snatched open.
`Where the hell have you been?' Fraser demanded, glowering at her.
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