The enchanted ring

by Lucy Gillen

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ROWAN felt rather unkind for being so evasive with Sean when he so obviously wanted to marry her, but she was not prepared to commit herself on anything so important without being very sure of herself. She went with him quite often when he was visiting patients and they once went into Gallyborn to a cinema, but she always endeavoured to keep the subject safely away from their relationship. The weather was still fine and she made the most of it by walking whenever she had the time free from her duties in the house or garden. She often went across to the little stream that ran through what had once been Sean's land it was one of her favourite walks and usually one where she could guarantee not seeing Michael Doran, since he seemed to ride there least often. She left the road behind and crossed the little stone bridge that spanned the river and gave access to the open grassland. The turf, warm and springy underfoot, was as soft as a carpet and she never ceased to marvel at the utter stillness everywhere. The quiet was something she had still not grown used to. It was as it there was no one else for hundreds of miles and only the soft burr of the bees, even this late in the year, and the tinkling sound of the stream over the stones, broke the silence. It must have been heartbreaking for Sean to have to give up all this, she thought, and felt another pang of conscience about discouraging his proposal as she did. 129 He could be forgiven, she thought, if he lost his temper sometimes and behaved rather irrationally, for he had been deprived of so much that should have been his, and let down by the one woman who should have stood by him. Now Rowan herself was keeping him in suspense. She stood on the bank of the stream, her eyes unseeing as she thought about Sean, only half conscious of the scene before her. There should be some way of crossing the stream, she thought idly, that did not involve walking right the way along the bank as far as the small wooden bridge that gave access to the meadows beyond. Today she felt far too lazy to go as far as the bridge and thought it should not be too difficult to cross the stream if only she could summon enough courage to take the plunge. The thought of the plunge becoming too literal was the main thing that deterred her. The stream was a little too wide for her to risk trying to jump across it and, although the recent dry weather had made it shallower than usual, it was still deep enough to deter her from wading across. Once before some warning of approach had made her turn round and she did so now, frowning when she saw Michael Doran approaching. He was not riding Phelan, the big grey, this time but a gentle-eyed bay mare who picked her way daintily over the soft ground, and Rowan wondered if it was the same animal he had once offered to lend to her. He did not dismount but rode right up beside her and reined in the mare, a slow smile on his face. 'Haven't you ventured across there yet?' he asked without preliminary greeting. 'Not across this way,' Rowan told him. 'I use the bridge, but I'm not sure I want to cross today.' 'You looked as if you were hovering on the brink 130 when I came up,' he told her. "Have you ever been along that side of the stream?' "Not this end,' she admitted. "I go over by the bridge as a rule and along the other way.' "And you're not curious?' She lifted her chin, her eyes doubtful. "Should I be?' "All women are curious,' he declared with authority, "it's a feminine trait, and you're very feminine. You surely want to know what lies along that side of the meadows, don't you?' 'I don't know. I can see most of it from here.' She looked across at the way he had indicated, where a stretch of meadowland held a thick duster of trees and a veritable switchback of hollows and hills. "What's so special about that part?' she asked, curious despite herself. 'Why not come across and see?' The look he gave. her was a definite challenge and Rowan knew she would never be able to resist it, feeling the relentless hammering of a pulse at her temple when she met his eyes. 'I don't think so,' she demurred. 'I don't like to trespass too far from the road.' 'Oh, nonsense,' he retorted. 'You've already admitted that you've been over the bridge and along the other side, so where's the difference?' T ' 'It's all my property,' he urged, sensing her weaken, she thought ruefully. 'I only lease the house and a couple of acres and the tenant's away anyway.' 'Just the same Michael!' She shouted his name as she was swept up into the air suddenly by an arm that felt as hard and strong as steel and deposited unceremoniously on the saddle in front of him. The grey eyes were disturbingly close when she 131 looked up at him angrily, and she could feel the erratic, almost panicky pounding of her heart. 'Hang on,' he warned as he put his heels to the mare and sent her splashing through the shallow water and up on to the bank the other side. 'Let me down I' It was too far to try and get down by herself and she was increasingly conscious of his arm round her, holding her dose to prevent her from falling. She had to do something, but at the moment she could think of nothing but verbal protest. 'That saved a lot of argument,' he told her with a grin, and made no effort to release his hold on her or to help her down. 'Will you please let me down, Mr. Doran, I object to being treated like a like a sack of potatoes!' "Oh, you don't look or feel in the least like a sack of potatoes,' he assured her, 'and I'd much rather you called me Michael.' 'Please, Mr. Doran.' She stuck out her chin obstinately, and he laughed, a soft, deep sound that throbbed against her. 'You obstinate little devil,' he told her. 'I wonder Maxwell hasn't t'umped some of that stubbornness out of ya be now.' It was the second time she had heard him use an Irish brogue and she glared her dislike, her green eyes sparkling below dishevelled red-gold hair. 'Sean is far too much of a gentleman to do anything of the sort,' she informed him coldly. "Oh, he's a gentleman,' he agreed, surprisingly and with a wicked glint in his eyes, "that's why he'll never get anywhere with you. You need telling, not asking.' 'Of all the !' She was literally speechless with anger for the moment and the fact seemed to amuse him. 132 "One thing's for sure,' he told her lithely, "I believe you when you say you're not English, but I'd believe Irish. Are you sure you're not one of us?' 'Quite sure,' Rowan declared shortly. He eyed her for a moment quizzically, in no hurry to. release her, obviously. 'Now let me see,' he mused, stroking his chin as he studied her. 'The name's Scottish, isn't it?' 'Blair's Scottish,' she allowed grudgingly. 'And Rowan?' 'It's Scandinavian,' Rowan declared, hoping to confound him. His brows expressed doubt at that. 'I thought it was the Scots version of mountain ash,' he said, ready to argue. 'It is the Scottish name for mountain ash.' She looked down her nose at him, enjoying her momentary superiority. "But originally it's a Scandinavian word, a lot of Scots words are, I thought everyone knew that.' He laughed softly. 'Well, they don't. Miss Cleverboots, but thanks for the education.' The grey eyes teased her unmercifully. 'Am I to take it you're a Scots lassie, then?' 'I don't see why you're so interested,' Rowan remarked haughtily, and he laughed again. 'You're not sitting where I am,' he told her, 'and I am interested, so why so secretive?' 'It's not secret,' she denied. "My mother was English and French, if you must know.' He rolled his eyes. 'Ooh, la lal' 'Oh, don't be idiotic!' 'Are you touchy about being part French?' Rowan glared up at him. 'No, I'm not touchy about being part French, but I am touchy about being being abducted and kept on this wretched animal against my i33 will. Please let me down.' He put out a hand and patted the mare's silky neck. 'Pandora's not a wretched animal, are you, old girl?' He eyed Rowan reproachfully. "You'll hurt her feelings.' For one crazy minute Rowan almost laughed, then she recalled her position and frowned determinedly. 'If you don't do as I ask and help me down, Mr. Doran, I shall really lose my temper.' 'I thought you'd done that already,' he told her, 'Don't tell me it can get worse!' He gazed at her in mock horror. 'I don't believe iti' Rowan fumed, "Will you ' 'I suppose it's the red hair,' he mused, shaking his head. "My hair is not red,' she informed him stiffly, 'it's it's fair.' 'Fair?' He grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted it closer to his face to study it. "Mmm. It still looks red to me, but we could be flattering and call it red-gold, how does that suit you?' She knocked away his hand and glared at him angrily, helpless to do anything about getting down from the embarrassing position she was in. "It would suit me to be allowed to get down and make my way home,' she retorted. 'Already?' He arched a brow at her. 'They'll wonder
why you've come back so soon,' he told her, 'and Maxwell for one will be highly suspicious, I'm prepared to bet on it.' 'Will you stop being clever at Sean's expense?' she said. 'And please, let me down.' 'Don't you want to see the magic ring now you're here?' She looked at him suspiciously, suspecting some further delaying tactics, and wishing she could get further away from him. There was something quite 134 alarmingly disturbing about him at close quarters and she remembered uneasily Laura's description of him as dangerous. 'Hasn't anyone told you about the fairy ring down in the hollow behind the house?' he asked, genuinely surprised. "I'd have thought Maxwell would have mentioned it.' 'Well, he hasn't,' Rowan declared, 'and quite frankly, Mr. Doran, I don't believe it exists.' He laughed. 'Oh, so now I'm a liar as well, am I? Well, seeing's believing, so they say. Come on, Pandora, let's go!' He put his heels to the mare as he spoke and sent her racing across the grassy stretch towards the cluster of trees, but skirting them rather than going through them. They sped on past the trees and went over a sharp rise, then dipped suddenly into a green hollow at the centre of which grew a solitary hawthorn bush. Rowan clung on desperately as they went, although there was little fear of her falling, for he held her firmly enough, but she hid her head in panic when the sure-footed mare started down into the hollow without pause. 'Panic over?' he asked with a grin when she raised her head. ' I wasn't panicking,' Rowan denied, looking round her. "I see.' His smile mocked her. 'You just felt like burying your head against me well, I've no objections, do it as often as you like.' Rowan sought for words that would adequately express the way she felt and tailed to find any that were both strong enough and still ladylike. The sparkling green of her eyes and the tilt of her red head, however, left him in no doubt as to how she felt. 'Help me down,' she said, with as much dignity as she could muster considering her position. 135 He merely sat looking at her for a moment in silence, then he grinned, the hundreds of tiny lines darting from the corners of his eyes. 'O.K.,' he agreed at last, and dismounted, reaching up for her as she perched precariously on the saddle. He lifted her down as if she weighed no more than a child and stood with his hands about her waist, his dark face crinkled into a smile. 'It's right behind you,' he informed her solemnly, and laughed softly at her swift, almost nervous turn. "The fairy ring,' he added, 'if you believe in such whimsies.' 'Do you?' She turned a challenging gaze on him and surprised a look in his eyes that both disturbed and excited her. 'Sometimes,' he allowed with a half smile. 'Why not?' 'I can't imagine it,' she said, shaking her head, and he arched a brow. 'What? Me believing in fairies? Oh, I'm a good Irishman, don't let this fancy accent fool you.' 'I just can't see you and and the idea of romantic fantasy going together at all,' she told him, trying to still the rapid pounding of her heart. 'Do you know me well enough to say that?' he challenged, and Rowan could only gaze at him for a moment before shaking her head. 'No, I suppose not,' she admitted, and realised suddenly that he still held her with his hands at her waist, much too close for comfort. 'Please let me go.' To her surprise he complied and she turned again to look more closely at the small straggly hawthorn bush, seeing for the first time the rough circle of stones around its base. 'Have you seen one before?' he asked, noting her expression, and she shook her head slowly. 'No, never.' She looked a moment longer, then turned, a half smile of doubt on her face as she looked 136 at him. "I almost don't believe it,' she told him. 'I've I've heard about them, of course, but I never really believed they existed.' 'Oh, they do,' he assured her with a smile. 'They're supposed to bring luck to those who have them on their land as long as they don't disturb the ring. There's many an Irish farmer wlio'll plough round a ring like this rather than disturb it.' Rowan frowned to be reminded who that particular land had once belonged to. 'But this was ' 'Maxwell's land,' he agreed, 'and before you laugh the old story to scorn, Rowan, I'd better tell you that old Maxwell, in a fit of drunken bravado, had it dug up one day and the stones moved.' Rowan looked down at the ragged circle of stones and shook her head slowly. "I can scarcely believe it,' she said. She stared for a moment longer, then turned on him almost accusingly. 'But the ring's still here,' she told him. "You're fooling me.' 'No, I'm not,' he denied, and laughed. 'Reeper, my tenant, had it restored before he took over. He's a very superstitious man.' "But you're not?' He grinned. "Sometimes I am, as I said.' Rowan found the steady scrutiny of the grey eyes too disturbing and she turned back to look at the stone ring and the flourishing hawthorn again. "It's a lovely idea,' she said, half to herself, and laughed, slightly embarrassed to be taking it all so seriously. 'Do the little people grant wishes?' she asked, feeling slightly light-headed. He apparently took her seriously too'. 'I'm told it works,' he told her, 'if they know you're wanting the right thing.' 'Oh, I see. Well, I think I am.' She closed her eyes and found herself earnestly wishing for whatever it was 137 that Rupert had foretold for her. It was ridiculous, she supposed, but she had simply followed her inclination without stopping to think. She opened her eyes quickly again when she felt him dose behind her, and her pulse was throbbing wildly in warning as she half turned towards him. 'It's only a fairytale. Rowan,' he told her softly, 'don't put too much faith in it.' She shook her head slowly. 'It won't work without faith,' she said faintly, 'nothing does.' Just how she came to be in his arms a second later she could not even guess, but he held her tightly enough to make her breathless even without the firm, gentle pressure of his mouth on hers and the almost dizzying race of her heartbeat. It was only when he at last released her that she realised she should have been objecting, making some form of protest instead of submitting meekly as she was. Even responding to his kiss, she had to admit, and flushed warmly as she drew away from him. Among her chaotic thoughts somewhere the memory of Sean's words echoed round and round her head. 'Can't you see he'd do or say anything to have you in the same position as Maggie Brady was.' 'Please,' she said, blaming herself almost as much as she did him now, 'let me go. I must go back. I ' "I'll take you back,' he told her quietly. 'If you insist.' 'I do,' Rowan said, her voice horribly unsteady,' but I can walk back, I don't need ' 'It's the least I can do,' he interrupted. 'I brought you this far.' He swung himself easily up into the saddle and reached down for her. Without quite knowing what prompted her to be so foolhardy Rowan rode back to the stream with him, neither of them saying a word until the mare had splashed her way through 138 the shallow water again and halted on the other side. 'Thank you.' He lifted her down and stood, as before, his hands still holding her waist, his gaze restored to its more usual half-mocking, half-curious look. 'I'm damned if I'd let you keep me in suspense the way you do Maxwell,' he told her unexpectedly. 'He's a fool, I always said he was.' Rowan came back to earth with a sharpness that jolted her and for a moment she looked at him uncomprehendingly, then realisation dawned and the familiar resentment for his arrogance raised its head as she tilted her chin at him. 'Sean is not a fool,' she told him. 'He's not only a very competent vet, he's also a very intelligent man.' 'He may be for ninety per cent of the time,' he allowed, 'but when it comes to women, he's a fool.' Rowan prickled with anger, the more because she had been almost ready to call a truce with him and was now calling herself all kinds of an idiot for having been fooled. She pushed the restraining hands away, breathing erratically as she fought to remain calm. 'Is that why you stole his home away from him?' she asked, her voice unsteady. 'You thought he was a fool and therefore fair game?' For a moment he said nothing, but his face, and his eyes darkened ominously. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him look and she thought the subject of Thomhill was a sore point with him. The wide mouth tightened into a thin straight line and he tapped the crop he carried angrily against his boot. 'You make it sound like Victorian melodrama,' he told her shortly. 'I thought it was only the Irish who dramatised or could you be quoting Maxwell?' 'I am not,' Rowan denied. 'Sean's said very little about it.' i i39 "Then it must have been Laura O'Neil,' he guessed. 'Do you deny it?' she asked. 'Whoever told me.' He was silent again for a while, the crop tapping impatiently. 'It wouldn't
do me any good if I did, would it?' he asked, and Rowan wondered why she should detect pathos in the question. He remounted and looked down at her from the mare's, and his own, superior height. 'You have a lot to learn. Rowan, about a lot of things I hope you're a quick learner.' 140