'We keep what we want. The rest goes to auction.' He meant what he wanted, of course, although he was pretending he valued their advice.
'You haven't bought the job lot?'
'No. I buy what I want. The rest stays Mrs Wardour's property and that's how she's disposing of it. I'm getting it cleared and carted because I need it out of the way.'
That meant the clearing would be fast and efficient. He would give orders and the wagons would roll. 'Well, I'm making this list of what I think you won't need,' she said, 'but I don't know what you want.'
'Don't you?' She could see him, against the misty background of an office somewhere. She could see his smile when he said, 'I thought we both understood that last night,' and as she slammed down the phone she heard him say, 'See you this evening.'
Last night he had said he wanted her, and it would be a long time before she could forget that violating kiss. But she wished that she had pretended to misunderstand him now and acted as though he was still talking about the furniture.
She had flung the phone away as though it was his hand pushing back her hair, touching her cheek. She
had betrayed how jittery she was, but next time she would be thick-skinned as a rhino, impervious to the most obvious innuendo.
For crying out loud, she wasn't sixteen any longer. She was twenty-six, and she could have had a dozen lovers. Some of the lovers she could have had had been very pushy men, but she had never slammed down a phone before, quivering with outrage.
Thea had suggested that Coll Sullivan was an ordinary healthy lusty male. Like most women Dora could handle them, and found them both endearing and amusing. But he was not endearing, nor amusing, nor ordinary; and he wouldn't see her this evening. She would have finished work for the day and cleared off, long before he got back.
She went home to the lodge to type out her lists, sitting by the window so that she saw Thea walk by, pushing the pram. She leaned out of the window and called 'Hi, the pair of you,' then she opened the front door and helped Thea lift the pram in.
They released Kiki and gave her a pile of toys to play with on the hearthrug, and Dora went back to her typing table and picked up several pages and said, 'Have a look at this. Left-hand column's what I think he might want to keep, right-hand's what I suggest getting rid of.'
Instead of taking the papers from her Thea asked, 'Have you had any lunch?'
'I had a cup of tea when I got back.'
Thea did what Simon called her 'mother hen shudder'—clucking disapprovingly with ruffled feathers. 'Honestly, Dora, you are an idiot! You can't go all day without food, especially a day like this which has been upsetting all along.'
She went into the kitchen, opening a cupboard for a tin of soup. 'We don't want you flaking out in Coll Sullivan's arms,' she said.
Dora felt the grip of his arms around her and stiffened, holding the sheets of paper tighter. 'We do not,' she agreed. 'But didn't you say he was just a nice ordinary man, not the sort to take advantage?'
'I never did.' Thea sounded emphatic. 'Mushroom or tomato?'
'Either.' Neither really, she wasn't hungry, but Thea was going to heat up one or the other and watch that Dora drank it.
'There's something dangerous about him,' said Thea very quietly, 'but---'
'But we need the money,' Dora finished. `So I'll drink my soup and then I won't faint from hunger in his arms. Anyhow, I'm going out to dinner tonight. He phoned and said he'd see me later but I won't be here.'
'Who are you having dinner with?' The only man Dora had been dating for months was Neil, and she smiled at Thea's surprise.
'Nothing exciting. A very small hen party.'
It could hardly have been a smaller party, because she ate alone, sitting on a high stool at a snack bar in a town eight miles away. Then she went to a cinema alone—a thing she could never remember doing before—all to keep out of the way of Coll Sullivan tonight.
She had left her lists on the counter in the hall of the Manor House, and a note that she would be available from nine o'clock in the morning if he would care to leave instructions.
Thea knew Dora was dodging Coll, and Thea hadn't asked again where Dora was going, nor who the
girls were. If Coll questioned Thea she wouldn't be able to tell him a thing. But she didn't realise that Dora was going out on her own.
There were plenty of homes Dora could have visited, or she could have phoned around and got herself a companion at short notice. But whoever she saw she would have to talk about the new master of the Manor, and how she and Simon had been put on his payroll, and that was not a subject on which she wished to close her day.
The film wasn't up to much, but it served its purpose. It passed the time. She got home around eleven o'clock, and she was in the bathroom with the bath-water running when the phone rang.
There were friends who might be calling her this late, but she wondered how long it would be before she could hear a phone ring near her without a flare of panic and a reluctance to pick up the receiver.
She had to answer. It might be someone else, it might be that he would ring through the night until she answered, but when he spoke it took all her resolution not to put down the receiver again.
She said, 'Do you know what time it is?'
'Of course. I have to see you.'
'Now? Not a chance. I'll be along in the morning.' 'Now. Here. I did tell you I expected to see you this evening.'
'I had a date,' she explained.
'You're home now. I'll give you ten minutes then I'll walk down to the lodge and fetch you.'
He would. He would bang on the door. He had no consideration for anyone. He had spoken curtly until then, but suddenly he laughed. 'Don't be scared, I'm not going to leap on you.'
'I'm not scared.' She couldn't have him coming here and marching her off, and she would feel a fool locking her door against him. She said with as much hauteur as she could summon, 'I'll be along, and you'd better make what you've got to say brief and to the point, because when I get there I'll give you ten minutes.'
Her head buzzed like a hive of angry bees, and she could have screamed at him for being a tinpot dictator. 'When I whistle you'll come,' he'd said. What else could she do this time? But when she got there she'd have something to say about his attitude.
She dashed back to turn off the tap, and pulled her dress over her head again, then got into shoes and buttoned up her coat.
She walked fast, hoping that the breeze would cool her hot cheeks, looking for all the world like a girl hurrying through the night to meet a lover.
CHAPTER SIX
DORA heard footsteps on the rough gravel of the drive briefly before she saw him, a tall dark figure coming for her like a ghost. Who said the Manor wasn't haunted? A lot of people had lived and died here, but most of them had been her ancestors, and this shadow was no kin. He was the enemy.
She walked in the centre of the drive and so did he. She would walk straight into him if they both kept on their present path, straight into his arms, a head-on collision. So let him move aside or stop, she was
hanged if she'd start hopping about.
But of course there wasn't a collision. Of course he stopped and so did she, when they were face to face and about a foot apart. Dora had walked so fast that her breath was catching, or perhaps it was having him so close. 'You'd better have a good reason for this,' she said.
'Had a good evening?'
'Hilarious.'
He grinned at her. 'Then it wasn't Neil.'
She ignored that, but it was fair reasoning, she had never done much laughing with Neil. She wasn't here to chat and she walked beside him without saying another word, expecting him to break the silence. But he didn't, all the way up to the house and round, past the garages, to the far end of the stable block.
Coll opened the top half of the door and she heard a faint whinny and the sound of a horse getting to its feet, and then a chestnut head was thrust out. The neck was arched and strong, the head tapere
d to a very small muzzle and Dora gasped, 'Oh, you're beautiful! What's your name? Where did you come from?'
`Damozel,' said Coll. 'I had them stabled in London.'
'Them?' But she only had eyes for this one, she was still talking to it when he said,
'Coming riding?'
He was leading another horse, a big black hunter, and it was a challenge she couldn't refuse. Not that she wanted to refuse. 'Yes, please,' she said.
'Here,' he offered her his reins, and went to open the stable door and saddle and bridle the little Arab.
Dora felt as excited as a child offered a surprise treat. This was taking sweets from a stranger, but she
could hardly wait for him to slip the final buckle.
The mare stood quietly while she mounted and then Coll swung into his saddle and the hooves clattered over the flagstones as the two horses trotted side by side out of the courtyard.
The last time Dora had ridden over these stones she
had been very young. The horses had_ been sold when
the house was sold, and she had cried herself sick because they were living and loved. Her horse and Simon's and her father's. It hadn't been the same riding from the farm when she was engaged to Patrick, and that had been a long time ago too.
She would have been happy to let the horse go where it wanted. There was a paddock behind the house, she would have been happy cantering around that for a while, but Coll was a little ahead, so little that it could have been a photo-finish in a race, but the hunter took the lead and the mare followed.
Coll didn't speak, and she was glad. She was very conscious of him, of course, and if she couldn't be alone she wished almost anyone else was riding with her. But they went quietly the whole length of the village, without passing a soul.
There were still lights on in the Fleece, but the customers had all gone home. Upstairs they would be lay-ing tables for tomorrow. There might be someone staying in the one bedroom who would have breakfast up there in the morning, and very much against her will Dora found herself looking up.
Coll must know what she was remembering. The last thing she wanted to do was turn her head just then and meet his eyes, but she couldn't help it and she knew he would be smiling.
'We must continue that conversation some time,' he said.
'I'd be fascinated.'
They were almost out of the village now, and he dug his heels into his horse's flanks, moving off towards the open country; and Dora went too, the little mare galloping smoothly and swiftly at a touch.
It was as exhilarating as a break for freedom. Coll galloped beside her and she knew that his horse could outrace hers, but with the wind rushing through her hair she felt as though she was riding Pegasus, winged, leaving the world behind.
The hooves thundered on the turf, and she heard herself laughing, and the only hitch was that they couldn't gallop all night, only where the ground was level and firm and there was no risk of the horses stumbling.
She reined and the black hunter checked pace, and Coll waited and they went on together, side by side, sometimes close, sometimes drawing apart, aiming for nowhere in particular, just riding under the night stars.
They said nothing to each other, for half an hour, perhaps more, and then the horses brushed and she could have touched him and she laughed again. `I'd forgotten,' she said. 'I had.'
'Not how to ride,' he said.
'How marvellous it is. Where did you ride?' `Richmond Park, mostly.'
She wondered who usually sat in this saddle and how-long it would be before she came to stake her claim. It would be a 'she', and the sooner she came the better. With a girl-friend around to occupy Coll's
spare time Dora's six-month stint might not be so bad after all.
This ride had blown a lot of cobwebs away. She was feeling wonderfully alive and awake, although it must be after midnight, and an hour ago she had been ready to crawl into a hot bath and then fall into bed.
`Must we go back?' she said, not meaning that, just meaning—this has been wonderful.
`No,' said Coll.
Oh, but yes, they must. She would have loved to gallop away from her worries, but he would have galloped beside her. She wondered if he might ever let her ride Loki, the hunter, and wondered at herself for thinking of asking a favour.
They came back quietly so that the horses were cool when they reached the stables. As she dismounted Dora asked, 'Who's looking after them?'
`There'll be a groom along in the morning.'
`I could have done it.'
Coll made no answer to that. He led the hunter into the next stable, switching on lights, and Dora took off the tack and rubbed Damozel down. There was straw underfoot, and the old familiar smells, and it was so like the old times that she almost believed it would be Simon out there, or the groom of her father's day.
She wasn't sure about Coll's motives tonight. He might simply have wanted her to know there were horses in the stables again—after all, she was coming up in the morning to take over. It was the sort of thing that had to be mentioned. He had summoned her and she had had to come, that might have amused him.
If he was out to dissolve her antagonism—he had warned her he would try to seduce her—it had been a
possible ploy. Exciting, different. Come ride with me by moonlight. He on the stronger faster horse, she following his lead.
The horses were his, the stables belonged to him, and the house. She hoped he didn't presume that today's contract with Simon made her one of his possessions.
She didn't want to walk out to him now. But he was waiting, when she came out and closed the stable door behind her. 'Bedded down?' he asked.
'Yes. Thank you. I enjoyed myself. What do I do tomorrow?'
He took a couple of steps that brought him close to her. 'I've written it out for you.'
It was dark so you would step closer to anyone you were talking to, it didn't mean this was going to be more than talk, but instinctively she moved away, turning swiftly so that her hair swished across his face.
Perhaps he put a hand to brush it away and his fingers caught in the tangles. Or perhaps he did grab her by the hair, because he held her forcing her face round, and she gasped, 'What has Simon signed?'
'He'll tell you tomorrow.'
If she tugged it would hurt. If she stood still he would have to loose her. 'A contract between friends?' she asked through gritted teeth.
'Of course.'
'That's what Simon thinks.'
He was still holding her hair, she could feel his fingers in the long tresses, and she kept her head very still, looking steadily into his eyes. She said, `Do you know you're the only enemy I've ever had?'
'Am I now?'
Any animosity she had encountered until now, even
Mrs Hewitt's, had been petty. There had been no one who threatened her as this man did, not even the quiet official men who took away everything after her father died. She asked, `Do you have many enemies?'
'Oh yes,' he said softly, 'but you are special.'
'So are you.'
Suddenly he laughed, letting her hair slide between his fingers, and she clapped both hands to her head, pushing her hair back and holding it down, as though a loose tendril would put her at risk of being grabbed again. 'You should cherish your enemies,' he said, 'they sharpen the senses.'
She snapped, 'I'm learning that,' and he laughed again.
'It won't be all I'll teach you before we're through.' 'Oh, get lost!' That sounded pert and puerile, but she was losing her cool, and he drawled,
'I'm home, you're the one who might get lost.'
'Not tonight,' she said, and went striding away.
She always seemed to be rushing these days, either running to the lodge or running to the Manor House. She had come out in such a tearing hurry and temper that Tip hadn't managed to slip out with her, and he was waiting for her now.
'It was as well you didn't make it,' she told him. 'I don't know what I'd have done with you w
hile I was galloping all over the heath.'
That ride had been the most thrilling thing that had happened to her in ages. She began to smile at the bliss of it, taking off her coat and shoes, going into the bathroom and getting out of her clothes. The bath-water was tepid, but it was too late to bother emptying and running more hot water, so she splashed herself down, washing quickly and towelling briskly.
Her hair was like a gorse bush when she tried to pull a comb through it, and she put down the comb and picked up a brush, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she tried to tame her hair. She was wearing a short shift-shirt in white cotton and her shiny clean face was not the most glamorous sight.
A sudden tug, as the brush hooked a tangle, reminded her of Coll, of the way her hair had blown across his face, and how 'he had caught it, holding her close to him by her hair.
She brushed harder, then she winced and stopped. At this rate she'd be scalping herself When she went riding again she'd tie her hair back. She might try another style for everyday wear too.
But if she did Coll would think she was scared of her hair brushing him again. She wasn't, of course, but it was right what he said about enemies sharpening your senses. She could still feel his fingers in her hair.
It had been a good life before he came back, and she had thought she would be happy to go quietly on and marry Neil and live the quiet life. Well, the quiet life was out for the next six months, and she had enjoyed tonight. That midnight ride had been fantastic, she was still high on the thrill of it. Something inside her seemed to have woken again, as though she had been asleep for a long time.
She disliked Coll Sullivan, but working for him might be more stimulating than her dull job and her dull life with Neil. Perhaps she needed an enemy, a challenge. It was going to be a fight between them. If she lasted out the six months she had won, and remembering what the stakes were she daren't lose.
The black Hunter Page 10