by Lucy Gillen
CHAPTER FIVE
HAD it been likely that she could get away with it Rowan thought she would have said nothing about her morning's adventure, but she was so dishevelledlooking when she at last arrived back that she had little or no option to explain to Laura at least. 'Oh, Rowan dear,' Laura exclaimed when she saw her, 'you are in a mess, you'd better go and change your things at once, those can't possibly be properly dry.''They feel all right,' Rowan assured her, 'although they look pretty awful, I know. I think the housekeeper put them by a heater or something they were bone dry and lovely and warm when I got them back. I hate to think what the ducking's done for my hair, though.' Putting a hand to lift her tumbled hair reminded her of the gentle way Michael Doran's fingers had lifted the damp strands from her neck and she hastily dropped her hand. 'It looks rather pretty like that,' Laura told her, 'but not very comfortable, I imagine.' 'Not very,' Rowan agreed, 'and I'd better go and change before anyone else sees what a scarecrow I look.' It was lunch time before she saw Sean and then she was obliged to tell him about her accident whether or not she had intended to. He gave her no time to say anything about the matter before he rather abruptly asked her about it. His good-looking face was drawn into an expression that Rowan recognised as both 77 angry and frustrated and he looked at her across the table, his eyes almost accusing, ignoring the fact that both Laura and Mary Donovan were there too. 'I met Doran just now as I left O'Hare's cottage,' he told her, and eyed her expectantly. 'Did you?' said Rowan, guessing what was to come and shrinking from it. 'I've seen him this morning too.' He blinked for a moment uncertainly, as if he had half expected her to lie about it, Rowan thought. 'He told me you had. Are you O.K.?' 'Yes, thank you, I'm fine. I was only wet and I soon dried out, but I was very wet and felt horrid because of that cold clammy mist.' 'He was pretty vague about it,' Sean told her. 'Deliberately, I suspect, just to be as damned annoying as he could. What exactly happened?' Just as if he had every right to question her. Rowan thought, and flushed her resentment, especially as Laura and Mary were there. He could have chosen a time when they were alone before he displayed such a proprietorial air. 'Oh, it was nothing much,' she said airily. 'Nothing to make a fuss about and I'm all in one piece as you can see.' 'I wondered what the devil Doran was talking about,' Sean complained, evidently not to be lightly put off. 'He asked me if you'd arrived home O.K. and I felt quite a fool because I didn't know what had happened.' 'Well, I'm sorry about that, but you weren't to know and he should have realised that. And I have arrived home O.K., as you see, so there's no harm done.' 'He told me you'd had a bit of a mishap in the mist this morning,' Sean went on. 'You could call it that,' Rowan agreed wryly. 'He also said,' Sean added, with a distinctly accusing air, 'that you'd been up to the house, his house. What 78 happened. Rowan?' T told you, nothing much,' Rowan shrugged, determined to make as little of the incident as possible. 'I went further than was wise in that mist, that's all. I should have stuck to the high ground, instead I went down by the river and it was really thick down there and well, something startled me and I fell in.' 'In the river?' He looked surprised. 'But what on earth startled you to that extent?' Rowan hesitated, knowing well what his reaction would be. 'It it was McConnell, actually,' she told him, and saw the preliminary frown. 'McConnell? You don't mean he actually fired that damned shotgun at you?' 'Not at me,' Rowan denied, trying to be fair, 'but he did fire it, twice, and well, I suppose I panicked and the next thing I knew I was rolling down that hill and into the river.' She shivered at the recollection and smiled ruefully. 'It was very cold.' 'McConnell had no right to fire at you,' Sean raged. 'He could have killed you in that mist.' 'It's unlikely,' Rowan demurred. 'He could see me well enough to miss.' 'Then why did he shoot at all?' Sean demanded. 'I thought Doran graciously allowed you the run. of his land.' The sarcasm brought a flush of resentment and she was aware of Laura and Mary Donovan watching her curiously, the latter with the first hint of indignation on her round face at the further misdeeds of the man she appeared to dislike as much as Sean did. 'I gathered he could see somebody,' Rowan told him, 'but not well enough to tell who it was. He thought I was a poacher.' 'Fool ' He gave his attention to his lunch for a moment or two. 'Whose idea was it that you went up to 79 Tomaltach? Doran's place.' 'Well his.' 'Of course,' he said, heavily sarcastic, 'it would be.' 'Oh, Sean, don't fuss so ' She had not meant to sound quite so short with him and she saw the quick flick of anger that darkened his face for a moment. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured with a darting glance at Laura. 'I'm being too possessive, aren't I?' 'I'm very flattered by it,' Rowan assured him, and leaned across to put a placating hand on his arm, her eyes smiling at him. 'There's really no reason to fuss, though, Sean, honestly. I went up to the house, my clothes were dried while I drank coffee and then I came home. It was all perfectly straightforward.' 'Aah, sure nothin's straightforward wid the likes of him,' Mary Donovan remarked, unable to refrain from comment any longer. Sean might not have heard her, however, for all the notice he took, too intent on finding out exactly what had happened despite his remark about being too possessive. 'No approaches? Suggestions?' he insisted, the blue eyes only half believing what she had told him, and it was Laura who intervened, possibly realising that Rowan's temper was fast running out under the questioning. 'Sean dear! Really you mustn't third-degree poor Rowan like that.' 'I didn't know I was.' The answer was. Rowan was forced to admit, sulky. 'Well, you were,' Laura insisted. 'Rowan's had enough and she'd like to get on with her lunch.' He was quiet for a moment or two, then he turned back to Rowan and smiled, apologetically. 'If I am being too too bossy. Rowan, I'm sorry. I've had rather a hectic morning and then Doran's cryptic question 80 about you arriving home safely rather threw me, I'm afraid. I'm sorry.' 'Oh, please forget all about it,' Rowan told him, covering his hand with one of her own and smiling, " anxious to see the subject closed. 'I'll try,' he promised, though she doubted if he would find it easy. Sean was not one to forget anything easily, especially when it affected anything or anyone he considered his own. It wasn't until Sean mentioned it one day that Rowan realised she had not so far been any further afield than the confines of the village and the surrounding countryside immediately nearby. It was lunditime and she had the afternoon free. She looked across at Sean and smiled hopefully. 'Are you going to be busy this afternoon?' she asked. Sean pulled a wry face. "I'm afraid so,' he told her. 'Why?' 'No special reason,' said Rowan, 'I just wondered if you had any objection to company, that's all.' He looked delighted at the prospect. 'I'd love to have company,' he told her, beaming broadly. 'I have to go up to Murphy's place again this afternoon, why don't you come with me? You've never strayed out of Bogmoor yet, have you? It'll do you good to have a change of scenery.' Rowan smiled. 'That sounds fine,' she agreed. 'It's time I went further afield.' 'Indeed it is,' Laura told her with a smile. 'You spend far too much of your time on that garden, my dear.' 'I have to earn my keep somehow,' Rowan protested. 'I do very little else.' 'My dear Rowan, you've practically remade the garden since you've been here,' Laura protested. 'You've 81 done more in the time since you came than I've done in the nearly ten years since Charles died.' 'But I enjoy that,' Rowan insisted. 'That's not work.' 'It's jolly hard work,' Laura told her, 'and if you don't go out to Bogtell with Sean I shall be as disappointed as he will.' For a moment Rowan looked at him. 'All right,' she said, 'then I must go to Bogfell with Sean. I'd hate him to be disappointed.' It was nearly two miles out to Donal Murphy's little farm and Rowan was glad she had decided to come with Sean, for the ride was delightful. The road, small and narrow, dipped and climbed every few hundred yards like some natural switchback and at times Sean's little car protested and threatened to stop altogether but always managed, eventually, to cope. The surrounding countryside was breathtaking and Rowan felt she could well prove as poetic as Rupert in such surroundings. Soft green hills gently touched a pale blue sky that was scattered with tiny white clouds that had never heard of rain and which looked like white petals strewn on a blue dress. The little brown streams
alternately hid behind hills and bubbled along shinily in the sun with the river curving lazily among them. Sean took little time to affirm the recovery of his patient and Rowan had only enough time to chatter briefly with the old man and partake of the inevitable cup of tea before they were on their way back again with yet more views to admire and wonder at. 'It's all so beautiful,' Rowan sighed for the hundredth time, and Sean smiled. 'So you've said, many times,' he teased her. 'I gather you like Ireland.' 'I love Ireland,' she declared. "But I knew I would, 83 Abel was always talking about it.' Abel Rigg?' "Yes, my godfather.' She looked at him curiously, remembering Michael Doran's opinion of him. 'Did you know him?' 'I think I remember Aim,' Sean admitted, 'but only rather vaguely. I know he was a great friend of Laura and Charles, but it's a good many years since he stayed over here, isn't it?' 'Oh yes, a long, long time,' Rowan said. 'It must be well over ten years now.' She was silent for a moment, surreptitiously studying him and wondering if he had shared Michael Doran's instinctive liking for her godfather. He had not remarked on it either way, but then he had probably not had Michael Doran's selfassurance, even then, and would be less ready to form an opinion. 'Did you like him?' she asked, and he flicked her a brief, curious glance. 'As far as I remember I did,' he told her. 'Why? Is it important? You said it as it something depended on it and I'd hate to have said the wrong thing.' Rowan shrugged, laughing at her own seriousness. 'Not really,' she denied. 'It's just that I'm so fond of Abel and I like to think that everyone else is, that's all. Abel's been far more of a father to me than my own ever was.' 'Then I shall have to like him,' Sean declared solemnly. 'I know I shall be eternally grateful to him for getting you over here to work for Laura.' 'So shall I,' Rowan smiled, 'but I don't consider I do very much work. Gallivanting around the country, side with good-looking young veterinary surgeons is not work.' 'Laura isn't a hard task-master,' he agreed, and added, 'thank goodness.' 'She's a rather wonderful person,' Rowan said softly. I: 83 'Abel said she was.' She guessed what was in his mind when she saw the frown that gathered between his brows, triggered off by mention of Laura and her kindness. 'It's a pity people take advantage of a woman like Laura,' he said. 'She's far too soft-hearted and I've no time for layabouts.' 'Like me,' Rowan teased, trying to divert the inevitable. 'Not like you,' Sean argued. 'Like Brady. If Laura had any sense she'd turn him out and let him fend for himself for a change.' 'She won't do that,' Rowan assured him, and glanced at his set expression reproachfully. 'Anyway, I like Rupert, we get along very well together.' 'So I've noticed.' It was difficult to miss the dislike in his reply and Rowan wondered if he realised that there was some reason other than admiration of a poet that made Laura O'Neil give Rupert a home. 'Did you I mean do you know if there's anything anything wrong with Rupert?' she asked, and he frowned again, this time in curiosity. 'Wrong with him?' 'Yes. I mean some some illness. Laura hinted that there may be, but she said she couldn't tell me any more.' 'Huh. Probably some yarn Brady's thought up to keep her sympathy,' he told her. 'He'd know it would work with Laura.' Rowan shook her head slowly. 'I'm not so sure, Sean. Rupert doesn't look very strong and sometimes ' She sought to put into words the sense of impermanence that Rupert sometimes gave her. 'I don't know,' she added, failing to find the right words, 'it's just a feeling.' 'Well, it's a misleading one,' he insisted. 'Brady's as 84 strong as a horse.' 'Can you really tell?' Rowan asked doubtfully, and he laughed. 'I'm a vet, not a doctor,' he reminded her. 'But I'd say that those fragile looks of his are all part of the poetic image. Give him a shave, a haircut and an ordinary suit of clothes instead of that dramatic black and all you'd have would be an insignificant little man, no different from thousands of others.' It was a cruel summary of Rupert's character. Rowan felt, and she did not hesitate to disagree with it. 'Oh no!' she objected. 'There's nothing ordinary or insignificant about Rupert, even shorn of the trimmings as you suggest. There's his his voice, for one thing it's incredibly beautiful in a man, and his eyes too. They have a sort of wild look in them.' It was obvious her defence did not please him, but he evidently decided to laugh it off. 'Another Brady fan,' he taunted. 'But you should know, darlin', that the sight of you makes any man's eyes look wild.' Rowan would have made some equally light-hearted reply, but she caught sight of something up ahead of them at that moment, something that held her silent for a while. They stood darkly silhouetted against the sky just on the brow of the hill, recognisable even from this distance. The tall, handsome grey horse was unmistakable, although the man, crouched as he was, was a little more difficult to identify at first glance. The grey seemed restless and he tossed his head uneasily as if something was not to his liking. Michael Doran was bent down beside the animal's right foreleg, doing something to the leg itself, or so it looked from Rowan's viewpoint. 'Michael Doran,' she said. 'He seems to be in some sort of trouble, or rather his horse does.' 'Hard luck on him if it's gone lame,' Sean remarked 85 with such evident satisfaction that Rowan frowned. 'He'll have to walk home.' They were almost upon the pair now and both man and horse looked up, Michael Doran's rugged features showing relief at the sight of Sean's car. He carefully lowered the animal's foot to the ground and straightened up, and Rowan stared unbelievingly for a second when, instead of slowing down as she expected, Sean put his foot down hard on the accelerator and increased speed. 'Seani' She stared at him wide-eyed and saw the resentful, sulky look he wore. 'You must stop,' she insisted. 'Must I?' His chin thrust out stubbornly and he made no effort to reduce speed as they approached the man and the horse waiting hopefully. 'Sean, please ' He frowned his dislike. 'Why should I?' he asked. 'I've no time for Doran, you know that, so why should I stop and pretend to be the good Samaritan?' 'Rupert refers to you as our good Saint Francis,' Rowan retorted, 'so you might at least think of the animal involved. You don't hate him, do you?' They were already several yards past by now and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief when he braked sharply and put the car into reverse. 'Thank you, Sean.' He made no reply, but got out of the car, slamming the door behind him, while Rowan hesitated fractionally before following him part way up the slope. Michael Doran's expression showed clearly that he suspected who had been responsible for their coming back, and the grey eyes held a hint of amusement when he smiled at her briefly. 'Thanks,' he said, and Rowan lowered her gaze, unwilling to have her efforts on his behalf recognised so openly. 'Don't thank me,' Sean retorted, missing the direction 86 S"of the thanks. 'I'd have driven straight on.' . 'But Rowan wouldn't,' Michael Doran said quietly S and with confidence. " 'Miss Blair reminded me that I was a vet,' Sean told him shortly. 'But for the horse we'd have left you to !' it and not bothered.' 'Would you?' A dark brow questioned Rowan's intention in that direction. 'Well, thanks anyway.' There was a brief, monosyllabic consultation over k-the animal's injured leg, then Sean busied himself with the trouble while Michael Doran walked down the 'slope to stand beside Rowan. She wished he had stayed ' where he was and not come near her, for her colour rose warmly under his shrewd, half-mocking scrutiny. 'Are you assistant veterinary?' he asked, and Rowan shook her head, trying to avoid his eyes. 'Oh no,' she told him, 'I'm just along for the ride.' 'I see.' A raised brow spoke volumes and he swept her with that insolent and disturbing look again, half smiling. 'I suppose he doesn't like letting you out of his sight any more often than he has to, and I don't blame him.' 'Nothing of the sort,' Rowan retorted. 'I asked if I could come along this afternoon because I wanted a change of scenery.' She looked at him meaningly from under her long lashes. 'I had hoped that for once I could avoid you, for one tiling.' Perhaps that was not the most polite thing to have said, but she could feel the almost inevitable resent ment already prickling edgily at her temper because : of his manner, which she convinced herself was condescending and patronising. She resented it as much on Sean's behalf as on her own. He merely smiled, however, a little tight-lipped perhaps, but nevertheless a smile, and there was a glint in his eyes that noted the jibe. 'It's rather difficult to 87 avoid seeing me around Bogmoor and the immediate vicinity,' he told her. '
And quite frankly I can't see why you want to avoid me. Have you any special reason?' 'I'm I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have said that.' She hated apologising to him, but she had to admit that she had spoken hastily and perhaps rather, too frankly. 'Why not?' he asked, and Rowan did not answer, standing pink-cheeked and with her eyes lowered, saying nothing that could possibly provoke him to further comment. 'I hope you haven't had any ill effects from your ducking,' he remarked, after it became obvious she was not going to reply. His voice was pitched low enough to prevent Sean hearing the words, but loud enough to make him raise his head and frown suspiciously at them. 'None whatever,' Rowan told him. 'I'm perfectly all right, thank you.' 'Good.' He cast a brief speculative glance at Sean. 'What did Maxwell have to say about it?' So that was it, Rowan thought he hoped Sean had been angry enough to quarrel with her about going to his house to dry her things. She bit her lip at the thought of how near he had come to being right and lifted her chin defiantly to show him her opinion of such tactics. 'He was glad to see I'd had no worse than a ducking,' she told him, 'although he realised that being fired at by a shotgun in the mist was a rather unnerving experience.' She stared indignantly when he chuckled, scarcely believing she heard him right, but. apparently the memory of her ducking still amused him, for he smiled widely as he recalled it. 'You looked rather more fit to explode with temper than unnerved, from what I re, member,' he told her. 'In fact, to quote our American 88 cousins, you looked madder'n a wet hen.' 'Of course I was angry,' Rowan retorted indignantly, instinctively keeping her voice low, as he did, so that Sean should not overhear. 'I was frightened and angry, and I don't think it's at all amusing, Mr. Doran, even in retrospect.' 'I'm sorry.' She would have been more inclined to accept his apology, she thought, if she had not seen the way his eyes still glittered with amusement. 'Anyway,' he added, 'I'm glad Maxwell wasn't too unpleasant about it.' . 'Of course he wasn't,' Rowan said shortly. 'Why should he be at least with me?' He smiled slowly, the myriad of small lines radiating from the comers of his eyes and the dark, expressive face hinting at all manner of things. 'No reason, of course,' he said. ' gave him no reason to think anything untoward had occurred, but some people don't need a reason to go off half-cocked, do they? It's just that he gave me the impression that he intended having a serious talk with you at the first opportunity. About coming to Tomaltach, I mean,' he added. Rowan glared at him angrily. 'Is that why you told him I was there?' she asked. 'Without telling him that I had no option about going?' He smiled again, shaking his head. 'No although I admit I was curious to see how he'd react to the idea.' 'Well, I'm sorry you were disappointed.' He cocked an eyebrow at her. 'I wasn't exactly,' he denied. 'He looked furious after the first initial shock, but then he's very smitten, isn't he?' 'I don't see ' Rowan began. 'I do,' he interrupted with a short laugh, and added softly, 'and I don't blame him in the least, as I said.' 'Mr. Doran ' She took a deep breath, feeling that the conversation was getting out of hand. Her cheeks 89 were burning, but she met his eyes determinedly. 'This has absolutely nothing to do with you. Anything between Mr. Maxwell and me is our concern alone, and I wish you'd stop making it yours.' 'Oh, but it is mine,' he told her solemnly. 'Maxwell can't expect to have a monopoly on a woman as beautiful as you. He'll have to make an effort to win you and keep you.' Rowan stared at him for a moment in silence, taking in the meaning of his words and the bright, disturbing gleam in the grey eyes as they regarded her. 'You're the the most ill-mannered, conceited man I've ever met, and I wish I'd let Sean drive on now. I should have left you here and let you manage as best you could.' 'Aah now, you wouldn't do that,' he told her, his voice softening into an accent almost as strong as Mary Donovan's. 'Sure ya wouldn't have left poor ould Phelan there wid a hurted leg, would ya?' Surprisingly her first instinct was to laugh at the sound of the unaccustomed brogue, but she bit back the instinct hastily and frowned instead. 'I'm glad you realise it,' she told him, 'but at least you'll still have to walk home, and for that I'm glad.' His eyes glistened laughter, almost as if he sensed her own nearness to it. 'You heartless little wretch,' he told her mildly. 'I believe you mean it.' 'I do.' Rowan was aware of Sean's head turned in their direction again and lowered her voice. "It might bring you down to earth,' she added, and wondered why he laughed a moment later. 'Literally,' he told her, and he too glanced across at Sean, still busy with the grey. 'I think we're under suspicion,' he added. 'There're any number of black looks coming in this direction because we're talking, I suppose. From die way he talks, I gather Maxwell's very, very serious about you.' Rowan nicked an uneasy glance at Sean, wondering how far he had been taunted into indiscretion by this man who could so easily arouse both their tempers. 'If it's any concern of yours at all,' she told him, 'Sean's asked me to marry him.' The dark brows shot upwards and he pursed his lips as he looked down at her speculatively. 'Already?' he said. 'He hasn't wasted much time, has he?' 'It's ' Rowan began, but was again cut short. 'Oh, I don't blame him,' he assured her hastily, 'but he should have waited a while longer to take the plunge, I think you'll agree.' He shrugged. 'Oh well, I suppose Maxwell's the kind who has to learn the hard way.' 'Oh, of all the ' Her eyes sparkled, angrily green, and she denched her hands tightly at her sides. 'That's a wicked, cruel thing to say ' He looked speculative for a moment. 'Oh, so you know about the fair Barbara, do you? I did wonder.' T know,' Rowan admitted, 'though Sean doesn't realise it and I wouldn't dream of mentioning it unless he does.' He sighed, and for a moment she could have believed it genuine as he looked over at Sean with a kind of tolerant understanding in his gaze. 'The trouble is Maxwell never realises when he's got the wrong girl,' he told her. Rowan stared at him for a moment. 'He hasn't got the wrong girl,' she denied shortly, anger making her rash. She should have been less adamant about that, she realised, but she refused to stand there and listen to him being so patronising about Sean. His eyebrows arched again and there was a dark gleam in his eyes that was horribly discomfiting. 'Do 9i you mean you're actually thinking of marrying him?' 'Suppose I am?' Rowan took a deep breath. 'It's my affair, not yours, and I wish you'd stop being so so personal.' He smiled, mocking her angry face. 'I'm merely exercising my feudal rights as lord of the manor,' he told her. 'You have no rights over me,' Rowan retorted. 'I'm not one of your tenants and neither is Sean, so our affairs are none of your business.' She angled her chin defiantly, so angry now she did not much care what she said. 'I'd consider you a better lord of the manor, as you term it, if you cared more for your tenants and less for your own pleasures.' There was a darkness in his eyes now that she had seen once before, an ominous darkness that told her she had touched on the one subject that really affected him. 'You lectured me on the welfare of my tenants before,' he reminded her quietly, 'and I still fail to see why you should. As far as I know they live as well as any others in their position and none of them have ever complained to me.' He eyed her steadily for a moment. 'Have they appointed you their spokesman?' 'No! No, of course they haven't.' 'Then what prompts you to take up cudgels on their behalf?' he demanded, and flicked a sharp, penetrating glance at Sean. 'Or has Maxwell been filling you with a lot of nonsense about their hard lot?' 'They do have a hard lot,' Rowan insisted. 'They're terribly poor.' 'Of course they are,' he agreed. 'Sixty per cent of Ireland has a hard time existing, but we do and have done for generations. We're a hardy race. Rowan, and we can survive on much less than the English can, and keep our self-respect.' 93 'We!' She put a wealth of scorn into the one word. "Yes, we.' He eyed her steadily, though she thought his anger was beginning to stir at her jibe. The grey eyes were luminous with it and his mouth had a set, straight look. 'Don't judge by appearances. Rowan, it's an English trait and one of the less endearing ones.' 'Don't you judge by appearances,' Rowan retorted. 'I'm only one quarter English, so your sly digs don't apply to me.' Surprisingly he laughed, although it was a short, brittle sound that owed little to amusement. 'You don't surprise me at all,' he told her. 'I suppose the rest is Irish, hence the temper.' 'It isn't, as it happens,' she informed
him. Whether she would have enlightened him further remained undiscovered, for Sean joined them then, his gaze both curious and suspicious when he looked' from one to the other. 'I've done all I can for him,' he told Michael with a nod in the direction of the waiting grey, 'but you'd better let him take it easy going back. The fetlock's still a bit tender and it'll need to be rested for a few days.' Michael Doran looked at Rowan, his smile rueful. 'And as you told me. Rowan, I shall have to walk back home.' Sean was unable to disguise the satisfaction he felt at the idea. 'If you're wise, you will,' he told him. 'I'm wise enough to do what's best for Phelan,' Michael informed him quietly. 'Thanks, Maxwell. If you let me know how much I owe you ' "There's no need.' Sean flushed, evidently resenting the position of paid service to the man he disliked, so much. 'Oh, for God's sake don't be a fool, man!' There was impatience as well as arrogance in Michael Doran's 93 voice and Rowan saw Sean's quick flash of temper. 'It's your profession,' the other man went on, 'and you expect to get paid for it when it's anyone else, so why make an exception of me?' Sean glowered at him and Rowan could see the nervous way his fingers clasped the handle of his bag. 'Because I don't want anything from you, Doran, not a thing. I attended the animal because that's my job, but if you'd been lying there with your neck broken I wouldn't have stopped.' The malice in the words held Michael Doran silent for a long moment while the two of them looked at each other, one with unconcealed hatred plain in his eyes arid the other with impatience and something that Rowan recognised could have been regret. 'That's your privilege,' Sean was told quietly, at last. 'But you did use your professional skill to treat my horse and you'll be paid for it in the normal way. You can't afford to refuse a fee any more than the rest of us can, just for the sake of your damned pride.' Sean said nothing and the grey eyes turned speculatively on Rowan. 'You'd better try and make him see sense,' he told her. 'Explain to him that wives cost money to keep, and if he's thinking of marrying you he'd better stop being so blasted pig-headed about taking his fees.' 'Sean ' Rowan grabbed hastily at the hand already half raised and felt the tightening curl of his fingers over hers as she held on to him, urging him towards the car. 'Please let's go, Sean.' He stood for a moment, too stiff with anger to move, then he turned abruptly and strode off down the slope, taking her with him, almost as if he had forgotten who it was he pulled along so roughly. As they got into the little car Rowan looked back briefly at the man and the big grey, dark figures against the pale blue sky, and there was something about the 94 sight of them standing there on the lonely hillside that stirred in her an odd sense of excitement inexplicable and disturbing. 'Arrogant oat!' Sean growled, as they moved off down the hill, but Rowan said nothing. 95