by Lucy Gillen
CHAPTER THREE
DECIDING to be co-operative, Isobel was ready m good time the following morning and waiting to be collected for her outing to the County Show. She admitted to being far more nervous than was reasonable in the circumstances and told herself she was being utterly ridiculous, but outside of working hours she saw very little of Lucifer and the idea of spending almost an entire day in his company, without the normal distraction of work, gave her a curiously fluttery feeling. She had told him that he could find her at Kanderby House, as she wanted to have a word with Nigel before they left. She had dressed with care, hoping that her longsleeved, flowery print dress would be considered appro. priate to the occasion, and then at the last minute won- dered if something more tweedy would have been better. A last-minute, rather panicky check with a mirror had reassured her and she felt quite summery and lighthearted with her thick fair hair loose about her shoulders, instead of tied back as it more usually was. Any doubts she might have had about her appearance were banished as soon as Nigel caught sight of her, pulling her down to him so that he could kiss her appreciatively. 'You look lovely,' he told her. 'Absolutely lovely, and I envy Luke being seen with you.' She dipped him a mock curtsey and sat beside him, her hand still held in his. 'I do wish you could come too, Nigel,' she said. 'I feel horribly guilty about going off like this and leaving you here, and it's such a lovely day too.' 39 'Don't feel guilty,' he told her, kissing her gently. 'Why should you?' 'Perhaps because I know you don't really like me going with your brother.' He pulled a face. 'I made that pretty obvious, didn't I?' he admitted. 'But please don't let it bother you, Isobel, I'm not really jealous of Luke.' 'I should think not,' Isobel told him hastily, feeling nevertheless an irrepressible skip of excitement at the prospect of the day before her. 'I know I don't have to be,' he said, and put a hand to her face, smiling. 'I know you'll come back to me,' he added softly. 'Of course I will.' 'Are you quite happy working for Luke?' The question was unexpected at this moment, although it was not the first time he had asked it, and she hesitated before answering. 'Yes, I quite like working for him,' she said. 'It's very interesting and not too hard work, not in the usual sense of the word. There's saldom any hurry for anything and I can do it in my own time as long as I get it done, he doesn't seem to mind how. It's not hard work, I've no complaints on that score.' 'On what score, then?' he asked, and she laughed, supposing she had made it sound rather as if there were other grounds for complaint. 'No score at all," she assured him hastily. 'I've no grumbles about anything, Nigel, so I suppose I must like working for him.' 'That was one of the things that worried me at first,' he admitted, and smiled when she looked at him curiously. 'That you might get to like working for him too much,' he explained, and she shook her head. 'I shan't,' she declared firmly, taking his meaning. Nigel sighed. 'I suppose I was taking a bit of a chance 40 asking you to come here,' he said. 'I know it's only because I'm here again,' he admitted as if his own doubts embarrassed him, 'but Luke's so ' he shrugged uneasily. 'I don't know - it's simply that when I'm here I begin to believe all sorts of things I'd normally laugh to scorn.' Isobel looked at him questionlngly. 'Well, if it concerns your brother and anything to do with me,' she told him, 'you needn't believe anything. No matter how persuasive he is,' she added. 'It's not persuasion so much I'm thinking about,' he said, and laughed shortly. 'Oh, it's ridiculous, I know, but sometimes I almost believe some of that silly nonsense they dabble in. Vanessa and her crew,' he added by way of explanation, and Isobel looked startled. 'That - that black magic club you mentioned?' she asked, and he nodded. 'But, Nigel, you don't believe in that sort of thing, do you?' 'Not when I'm miles away in London,' he said, 'but here - it's different, Isobel. You must feel it, even in the short time you've been here.' His blue eyes begged for understanding. 'Don't you feel that sometimes Luke is - is just that bit too - different?' Isobel shook her head. determinedly. 'No. No, I don't, Nigel. He's just an ordinary man whose looks give him a slightly sinister appearance at times, that's all.' It was not all, by any means, and Isobel knew it. Ordinary was certainly not the right word to apply to Lucifer Bennetti, but she refused to recognize that his undeniable attraction owed itself to anything other than nature. They both glanced up, startled, when soft footsteps sounded on the paved area outside the french windows and, a second later, Lucifer walked in. He stood just inside the open windows, his dark eyes paying far more lavish homage to her looks than any words of Nigel's had 41 done, sweeping over her from head to toe in one expressive look that brought the colour flooding to her face. 'Good morning.' Whether or not Nigel was included in the greeting, he made little effort to reply to it and it was left to Isobel. 'Good morning, Mr. Bennetti.' A black brow shot upwards. 'I thought we'd settled that Mr. Bennetti business yesterday morning,' he said, and Isobel glanced hastily at Nigel before answering. 'I still think ' she began, but was cut short by a quiet laugh. 'So do I,' he told her adamantly. 'Lucifer - whether Nigel likes it or not. I'm your boss now and I don't object, so I don't see why he should.' Nigel's look of disgust should have made him shrink, but he merely smiled, watching Isobel steadily as if he dared her to argue. Isobel stayed stubbornly silent for a moment, then she got up from her place beside Nigel, her voice determinedly matter-of-fact. 'I'm ready when you are, Mr. Bennetti.' 'And I'm ready when you decide to be a little more friendly. If you're going to keep up this boss and secretary game, then we may as well stay here and work.' Isobel looked up at him, trying to judge just how serious the threat was, and one look at the dark face with its jaw stubbornly set was enough to tell her that he meant exactly what he said. 'All right,' she said shortly. 'Have it your way, Lucifer.' He grinned. 'I usually do,' he told her with such unabashed pleasure at the fact that, had it not been for Nigel's black frown, she thought she would have laughed at the sheer impudence of it. Isobel smiled down at Nigel, grumpy-looking in his chair, and bent to kiss him beside his mouth. 'Good-bye, Nigel, I wish you could come too.' 42 'Good-bye.' He released her hand reluctantly. 'Take care.' It was a vague warning, but it sent a swift unexpected shiver along her spine as she stepped out into the sunshine with his brother, following his long-legged stride out to where he had parked his car. It was, she thought as he helped her into the car, a vehicle typical of him. It was long, sleek and shiny and looked hot and red in the bright sun. Not quite respectable was the term that came to mind, although she dismissed it hastily as not only fanciful but ridiculous. He slid his long legs under the steering wheel and turned to look at her inquiringly. 'Do you mind the top being down?' Isobel shook her head, anticipating the welcome breeze their movement would raise. 'Not at all,' she said. 'It'll be nice and cool, and it's very hot at the moment.' He slammed the door shut with an apparently satisfied smile. 'Good. I had a nasty suspicion you might turn out to be a hot-house flower.' 'Well, I'm not,' she said firmly. 'I quite enjoy a good blow with the wind through my hair, especially when it's like it is today. It's really lovely.' He looked at her golden-fair hair shining richly in the sun and smiled. 'I agree,' he said, deliberately misunderstanding. 'It's very lovely loose like that.' Isobel did not answer, she said nothing, but merely lifted her face to the breeze as they turned out of the short drive and on to the road, She had to admit as they drove along that she thoroughly enjoyed the ride in the open car. The wind they created lifted her long hair from her neck and made her thankful she had thought to wear sun-glasses. Dusty green leaves in the hedgerows flicked and twirled as they passed and dappled the car and their faces with tiny fleeting shadows. 43 She even found herself relaxing completely in the deep comfortable seat, her head back the better to catch the breeze as it skimmed above the windscreen, she even took advantage of his preoccupation with driving to study her companion, the dark, Mephistophelean features, so appropriate to his unusual name, and the thick black hair blowing wildly awry in the wind and adding to the overall effect of turbulence. There seemed always to be an air of unrest about him, perhaps even excitement and she had never yet been quite at ease with him, no matter ho
w she tried. He drove well, but with the same rakish air that he brought to everything else he did, although she was pretty sure that some of it at least was put on with the idea of showing off to her. On second thoughts the idea of his even bothering to show off to her made her smile ruefully, thinking herself unobserved. 'You're smiling like a little pussy,' he told her, turning suddenly, and she looked startled at having her reverie broken into. 'What are you so pleased with yourself for?' T don't know that I'm pleased with myself about anything in particular,' she denied, certainly not prepared to let him know the reason for her smile. 'You looked it,' he told her. 'Well, I'm not.' He cocked a dark brow at her momentarily, seeking her reaction. 'You looked rather like a bewitching little sorceress who's well pleased with her latest spell. A sort of prettily wicked look.' 'Nothing of the sort,8 Isobel denied, her heart pattering uneasily when she remembered Nigel's words about him being more than just different. His interest in witchcraft, she told herself, had nothing to do with his remark to her, it was nothing but coincidence and she was letting Nigel's 44 rather unreasonable suspicions rub off on her. 'I - I can't think why you should make so much of a perfectly natural reaction to a lovely day,' she told him. 'I ordered this lovely day especially for you,' he informed her, flicking a crooked smile at her over one shoulder. She made a face over the boast anrf smiled, albeit a little uneasily. 'You must have a lot of influence with the weather man,' she said, staring at the rugged, dark profile as his laugh shivered down her spine like a trickle of icy water. 'You'd be surprised who I have influence with,' he told her softly, and turned his black eyes on her briefly. 'No, I wouldn't, not really,' she denied. 'I imagine you're very good at making things go your way.' He laughed. 'You really believe that, don't you?1 'Yes.' 'Do you mind telling me why?' She looked at him uneasily, wondering if he was already laughing at her. There was a hint of smile at the comer of his wide mouth, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead and half hidden by long lashes, so she could not tell for certain. She shook her head. 'I don't know; I just think - imagine that you're strong-willed enough to get your own way, that's all.' That was not all, she thought wildly, as Nigel's words hammered away again at her brain and her pulses throbbed at her temple and the wrists of her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Even the bright sunlight and her own common sense could not entirely dismiss that sense of slightly sinister unreality he gave her, and she started almost visibly when he appeared to follow her thoughts. 'Are you interested in witchcraft, Isobel?' 'No! No, of course not, why do you ask?' 45 He shrugged. 'I just wondered. A lot of people round here are.' 'I don't take it as very much of a compliment that you think me a witch,' she told him. 'I didn't say you were,' he denied. 'But you'd make rather a pretty witch if you were.' She looked at him suspiciously and, as if he sensed her gaze, he turned his head again briefly and smiled. 'A very pretty witch,' he said softly. 'I haven't the least desire to be a witch, thank you,' she informed him. 'Pretty or otherwise - even if I believed in such things, which I don't.' He was silent for a second or two and she watched the dark face from under her lashes, curious now to see how he would react. 'Oh, but. you should,' he told her solemnly, at last. 'Especially in this part of the country.' 'Well, I don't.' She felt far less certain about it than she sounded. 'But you get a little cold shudder every time it's mentioned,' he guessed, and laughed softly at the swift, suspicious look she gave him. 'You're - you're wrong, I don't.' 'No? O.K., have it your way.' 'Nigel told me you belong to a - a club or something that believes - studies witchcraft,' she ventured, wondering if she was treading on too delicate ground after her brave assertion of disbelief, but he appeared unconcerned. 'The Elgin Circle,' he said. 'It's a giggle.' 'But some of them take it very seriously, don't they?' 'Oooh, my goodness, yes!' He grinned at her briefly. 'The rest of them are very serious indeed about it all.' 'But you don't believe in it?' 'I didn't say that, I try to keep an open mind on most controversial subjects like that. I just believe in enjoying 46 myself, that's all, in tead of being gloomy about it.' He laughed again, and Isobel could imagine how much his lighthearted attitude would annoy those serious students of the occult. 'In fact,' he added with some satisfaction, 'I think they'd throw me out if they dare, but I have the edge on them, of course, and they're cautious about actually sending me packing.' 'Oh?' He turned a wry smile on her briefly. ''Well, wouldn't you think twice about giving Lucifer his marching orders from an order of witches?' he asked. That involuntary shiver slid along Isobel's spine again. 'It's nonsense,' she insisted. 'YOU just wait,' he chuckled, 'Vanessa will convince you. If anyone can, she will!' Isobel frowned. 'I don't want to be convinced,' she assured him. 'I've told you, I don't believe in such things.' She was curious because his apparent reluctance to dismiss it all as nonsense both puzzled and, to a certain extent, troubled her. 'Forewarned is forearmed,' he told her. 'At least you should know something about it 'as you're likely to be involved at some time or other.' She stared at him, certain he meant what he said, but scarcely believing he could. 'I have no intention of being involved,' she declared, trying to steady her voice so that he would not suspect the way her hands trembled and her heart raced. 'It's utter nonsense in this day and age. It's all ancient history and there's no good can come from raking over old ashes.' Surprisingly he laughed. 'When talking about witches,' he informed her, 'that's rather an unfortunate turn of phrase, isn't it?' 'YOU know what I mean,' she said, and was surprised to hear herself sounding almost apologetic. 'Yes, I know what you mean,' he admitted. 'And here 47 we. are. He turned the car into a field, presently doing duty as a car park, and Isobel's eyes widened when she saw the number of other cars and other vehicles of every sort already parked there. She had expected nothing as big as this, not nearly so many people even, and she saw Lucifer recognize her surprise with a smile. Another gate gave access to the showground proper, already swarming with people, most of them much too warmly clad for the weather and looking uncomfortably hot. It was many years since she had visited a country show like this and she breathed in the hot, humid scents reminiscently. There was always a special sort of smell peculiar to such gatherings and it seemed universally the same, a smell she could never quite analyse. Crushed dry grass, hot engine oil and livestock predominated, with the whole overlaid with too much warm humanity in too small an area. But there was a sense of liveliness and excitement that Isobel responded to as they made their way through the crowd. 'Is there anywhere you'd like to go first?' Lucifer asked, rather surprising her by consulting her. .Isobel shook her head, content to follow his lead. 'I don't mind in the least,' she told him. "You know your way around better than I do, I expect.' 'Possibly,' he allowed, and put a hand under her arm as they made their way past a display of farm machinery. 'I don't suppose you're interested in tractors and combine harvesters for a start, are you?' She shook her head, and he smiled down at her. Vou didn't expect so many people, did you?' 'It's very much bigger altogether than I expected,' she admitted, and looked up at him curiously. 'You seem to have somewhere in mind,' she told him as he led her un48 hesitatingly along. 'Where are we heading?' 'For the horses,' he grinned. 'You like horses, don't you?' She blinked surprise at the accuracy of his guess. 'Yes, as a matter of fact I'm very fond of horses of all sorts, but ' His laugh cut her short. 'First lesson in understanding witchcraft among other things,' he told her, 'is a basic knowledge of psychology. I watched your reaction when I mentioned horses and I saw the tell-tale look in your eyes that gave me the clue. If I hadn't seen it I'd have tried sheep, pigs and cows in that order, but the odds were pretty short on me being right first time.' So that, Isobel thought wryly, was how he could apparently follow her thoughts with such accuracy. How he had been able to impress her with his talk about witches so closely following on her own thoughts about his association with the occult. He had seen and noted her reaction to being called a bewitching little sorceress and taken it on from there. He-was right, psychology was the basis of the seeming mystery and, for the moment, the thought comforted her. 'Very clever,' she told him, eyeing hi
m curiously. 'But why this insistence on witchcraft? It's much too lovely a day to think about spooky, unpleasant things like that.' He shrugged. 'Just in case,' he said, and a moment later laughed. 'Gome on, let's go and find your horses.' It surprised Isobel how many people he seemed to know, until she remembered that he had spent a good deal of his childhood here, and that he still lived among the same people now and was therefore completely at home. Also, despite his dark, foreign appearance, he fitted into his surroundings surprisingly well, far better than she could imagine Nigel doing. Nigel always seemed so very much a town man, whereas Lucifer's dark face was much 49 less noticeable among all the weather-beaten, well-tanned taces of the country people. He wore no jacket and his shirt was open at the neck, a rtrong brown throat contrasting with fine white cotton. Hot weather suited him and he looked almost too discomfiungly attractive, drawing the eyes of every woman they passed, and taking it all in his stride, Isobel thought wryly. Her own cheeks were bright with warmth and her eyes going from one attraction to another, anxious to miss nothing There were side-shows even, in one small section, and a long white marquee selling refreshments, the was61" mg eye as she realized how ttllIsty she 'YOU could do with a drink,' Lucifer informed her with a smile, and she nodded. laugS?010^ again' I suppose/ she guessed9 and he 'You are thirsty, aren't you ?' T am,' she admitted, 'and I suppose I betrayed it by licking my lips when I saw the refreshment marquee.' Exactly, he laughed. 'You leam quickly, piccolo' They sat m the half shade, stealing the edge of the shadow cast by a huge oak, the grass cool and soft as they sank down on to it. Isobel drank half her drink in one go and sighed her relief as it cooled her dry throat, leaning back on her hands, her legs curled up under her. She glanced up when Lucifer waved a casual hand to someone over near the entrance of the marquee. The man he greeted returned the wave and a second later Isobel glanced curiously at Lucifer when he started across the grass towards them, a big sketch pad tucked under one ana. 'An artist?' she asked, arid Lucifer nodded. 'And an old acquaintance.' She may have imagined it, 50 but she thought she detected sarcasm in the remark. The man stopped in front of them, his eyes going curiously to Isobel before he spoke. 'Hello, Lucifer, long time no see.' 'Quite a long time,' Lucifer admitted, as the newcomer flopped down in the shade, the sketch pad on his hunched knees. 'I'm surprised to see you here. Gal, I thought country fairs were a bit out of your line.' The shoulders under the rather stained shirt shrugged. 'I'm earning an honest crust,' he said wryly. 'Sketching the county and the general hoi-polloi alike. A few bob here and there.' 'Oh, I see, you're working.' 'Uhuh.' The shaggy head nodded. 'I don't know who your lovely lady is, but I could enjoy doing her head.' Lucifer smiled, casting an oddly proprietorial glance at Isobel which she noted with some surprise. 'I'll bet you would, but I doubt if you could do her justice in the time you have available.' He waved a casual hand between the man and Isobel and performed perfunctory introductions. 'Gal; Isobel Hendrix. Isobel; Gal Ford.' The man's eyes studied Isobel carefully for a second before he summoned a dry smile. 'Very nice too,' he remarked, and Isobel flushed at the obvious interpretation he put on her presence there with Lucifer. 'I'm Mr. Bennetti's secretary,' she informed him, and saw Lucifer's smile of amusement. 'Oh, I see.' The gaze was even more curious now and discretion went to the wind as he gave voice to what had obviously been on his mind all along. 'I thought you were a little bit out of Lucifer's usual line,' he to.ld her bluntly, 'and much younger too.' He looked at Lucifer questioningly. 'I expected you to be with Vanessa, as usual,' he told him. 'Is she missing or have you two ?' His hands spread expressively and Isobel wondered if he too had 5 origins similar to Lucifer's. 'She's in Germany.' Parentl'v1^1 tho.ugh.t he was ^PP01"^ and so, apparently, did Lucifer, for there was a hint of malice in his voice when he spoke again. fac'ShT^" he asked softly) and the artist>