"What's all this talk about judging and understanding?" Simon asked. "You're far too serious for such a lovely morning. Sit down and enjoy this view."
She did so, liking the sensation of the soft turf beneath her. She yawned.
"My late night's catching up on me. The ride has tired me."
"Have a cat nap." He sat beside her. "I'll keep guard and ward off the wild animals—particularly wolves!"
She laughed and closed her eyes. The breeze had dropped and everything was still; the only sound that reached her was the noise of the horses cropping the grass a few yards away. How peaceful it was. How happy she could be if only_______ She heaved a sigh and drifted off to sleep.
She awoke with a start to see Simon bending over her; she sat up hurriedly.
"Have I been asleep long?"
"Half an hour."
" How boring for you."
"To watch you? I've loved it."
She made a movement to stand but he detained her.
"Wait, Sharon. I want to talk to you."
"It's late. We must go home."
"Not yet."
He rolled over and forced her back on the ground. His body pressed hers and his lips found her mouth. For an instant she lay passive, hoping her lack of response would be sufficient warning. But he went on kissing her and her annoyance rose. This was the second time within twenty-four hours she had been kissed by force, but whereas the first occasion had been bittersweet, this time she couldn't wait to be free. She pushed against Simon but he did not release her. His muscles were like steel and her annoyance turned to anger.
"Let me go!"
She almost shouted the order that was accompanied by another furious heave against his chest.
He released her abruptly and stood up, his face pale, his breathing heavy.
"I'm sorry, Sharon. I… I couldn't help myself. You're so lovely and I want you so much. From the minute I saw you I fell in love with you… I want to marry you."
"I don't love you." The words were curt but she was too angry to be kind. "I've never given you any cause to think I do."
"Is there someone else?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"What business is it of yours anyway? You're as bad as Adam!"
"I thought you'd mention Adam sooner or later. You can't talk five minutes without bringing his name into the conversation. He's the one you love, isn't he?"
"Don't make wild guesses. I hardly know him. Now if you 'll excuse me, I'm going home!''
She ran to her horse and, before he could help her, sprang into the saddle.
She was almost within sight of Green Spinney when he caught up with her, and together they rode the last few hundred yards to the stables, where she dismounted and handed him her bridle.
"Goodbye, Simon," she said, turning to go.
"Will I see you at the same time tomorrow?" he asked.
"No. I won't be riding with you any more."
"Because I kissed you?" His face contorted. "I give you my word it won't happen again. Anyway, it's no insult to ask a woman to marry you. It's usually considered a compliment."
"It was a compliment, Simon, but it's better for both of us if I don't ride with you again."
"You may change your mind when you've simmered down," he replied, as he led the horses away.
Sharon spent the rest of the day with her mother-in- law. Mrs. Peters wanted to hear everything about the previous evening, and Sharon did her best to make it seem as if she and Adam had had a wonderful time.
"You must get him to take you out more often," the older woman said." It's good for both of you."
Sharon nodded dutifully, without any intention of obeying. She could barely face the prospect of seeing him again, let alone going out with him.
In order to avoid meeting Adam that evening, she pleaded a headache and had dinner sent to her room. But as the hours passed the lie became a reality, so she undressed and went to bed, her head throbbing more violently than ever as she lay between the sheets.
Some time after nine she heard Adam's car drive away and assumed he had gone to see Helen. The thought only made her headache worse and grimly she acknowledged the power of jealousy and what it could do.
At last the pain drove her to the bathroom for aspirin. She swallowed a couple and, returning to her room, opened the window and leaned her elbows on the sill to breathe deeply of the cool night air. She had lain in bed longer than she had supposed, for the moon was high in the sky and the intense stillness told her everybody had long since gone to sleep. But she had not heard Adam return and her eyes were drawn to the belt of trees on her left, beyond which was the road leading to Helen's house.
A sudden noise from the far side of the lawn made her lift her head sharply. She remained motionless, listening. Then she heard it again, this time louder. It sounded like the whinnying of horses and she strained her eyes into the darkness. The noise came again and her heart pounded as she saw a thin wisp of smoke rising above the trees.
The stables were on fire!
Without pausing to think, she pulled on her dressing gown and raced down the stairs and out of the house.
It was only as she neared the stables and saw the smoke pouring from the building that she regretted her impulsiveness. She should have had the sense to awaken the servants and tell them to call for help. But to run back to the house now would delay things even further.
She was still hesitating when a tongue of flame shot out of the stable door. Her indecisiveness vanished and she rushed forward, her own fear forgotten as she heard the sounds of even greater fear from the horses trapped in their stalls. They were neighing in terror and beating their hooves against the walls.
Holding an arm over her face in a vain effort to stave off the thick smoke billowing everywhere, she entered the stable and fumbled with the bolt on the first stall. It was stiff and she tried not to panic at her inability to move it. Gripping it again she gave it a sharp tug. As her skin rasped painfully on the wood the bolt slid back and she flung the door open and jumped aside as a panic-stricken horse rushed out, hooves flying, head tossing as it cantered to safety.
There were three more box stalls to open and she drew a tearful breath as she saw Gilda was in the next one, the white star on her forehead blazing in the light of the flames. She tried to shout reassurance to the animal, but her voice, thick with the acrid smoke belching around her, came out as a croak. Abandoning efforts to calm the creature, she concentrated on setting her free.
By the time the last horse had galloped to safety, its eyes rolling with fright, Sharon was hardly able to see.
The smoke was no longer grey but black, with a sharp smell that caught at her throat and made breathing difficult. Her eyes were streaming and half-closed as she stumbled to the door and safety.
She was on the threshold when a whinny drew her back. Or did the cry come from one of the horses already outside? Did Adam have four animals or five?
Wildly she looked in the direction of the house, hoping someone had seen the fire and was coming to her aid… except that no one knew she was here. But surely they would come running to set the horses free? Not the maids perhaps, but Jenkins, the elderly man who cleaned the silver and did the odd jobs.
A horse whinnied again, a cry of terror that left her no choice but to return and try to save it.
Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she tied it around her mouth and plunged into what had now become a flame-belching inferno. Tongues of fire licked the walls and shot out scarlet fingers to catch her. One singed the hem of her dressing gown, and in alarm she drew it up with one hand, holding her other hand to her face.
Tears blurred her vision and she half closed her eyes and peered ahead, no longer sure of her bearings. Would the horse be in a stall to the left or to the right of her? Or was it at the far end… and where was the end of the stables? Was she still facing the door or had she turned after entering?
She was still hesitating when a
saw-edged flame leaped out and singed her hand. With a cry of pain she jumped back. Her foot caught on something behind her and she stumbled. She half turned to save herself but as her hands reached out for a hold, another flame shot toward her.
With a scream she put up her hands to protect her face. The movement of her arms increased the momentum of her lurch and sent her crashing to the floor. Her head struck a hard object and sharp pain seared through her. She gasped, cried out and then felt hereself sinking into a darkness from which there was no escape.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Sharon! Sharon darling, can you hear me? Darling, speak to me. Say something."
It was a man's voice and the pain in it echoed the pain exploding in her head.
"Sharon… darling."
Again the voice spoke her name and this time she knew it was Adam. But why was he so distraught and why had he called her darling?
Her eyes flew open and stared into grey ones so close to hers that she saw the darker flecks in them. Instantly the eyes receded and the rest of the face came into focus: Adam's face, pale with fear.
"Lie still." he said as she gasped and tried to sit up.
"The horses!" she cried. "Were they all saved? I thought I heard one in—"
"They're all out," he said swiftly. "Now lie still."
Firm hands applied gentle pressure upon her.
forcing her back; she realized she was lying on her own bed.
"You were magnificent," he went on. "Though why you didn't raise the alarm instead of rushing into the stables on your own…"
"I didn't think of it till I was already there. And then I was afraid to waste time by going back to the house. I had to save the horses." Once more she tried to sit up. "I heard a fifth one but I couldn't find it. What… ?"
"It wasn't there. I rode it over to Helen's a couple of days ago and he went lame on the way, so I left him there."
"You mean I went back into the stables for nothing?"She started to laugh weakly, stopping as he stooped over her, his eyes burning into hers.
"Are you telling me you weren't caught by the fire? That you were safely outside but went back in again?''
"Yes." She was not sure what he was driving at. "I heard a horse cry and I couldn't be sure if you had four or five. I'd got out Gilda and the other three and I couldn't bear to let a fifth one die." She shivered. "I definitely heard it."
"Imagination," he said tersely, "or else it was one of the others. In any event it was a damn fool thing to do. Much as I value my bloodstock, I value a human life more. When I think what could have happened to you if I hadn't reached you in time…"
His voice was raw with anger but she loved every harsh note of it, realising how shocked he was by her narrow escape from death and how much of himself he was unconsciously disclosing.
"How did you find me?"
"By sheer luck. I was on my way home when I saw smoke on the skyline. I drove like a demon, I can tell you, and reached the stables just as part of the wall collapsed. I caught a glimpse of something blue… and…" He stopped speaking, his expression clearly showing how real the memory still was for him. "I'm not sure why I knew it was you. But there seemed no doubt of it.''
"Maybe you associate me with accidents," she said lightly. "But thank goodness you do. You saved my life."
"I'd like to know who caused the fire," he said grimly. "They rarely start by themselves."
"No one was there," she said, startled.
"There might have been earlier on." He looked at her searchingly and she made an effort to return it.
"I didn't have an assignation there with Simon," she said raggedly. "So if that's what's in your mind, forget it."
"Very well." He walked to the door. "The doctor will be here soon. I'll go and wait for him."
"I don't need a doctor."
Not deigning to reply, he left the room, and she relaxed against the pillow and watched the streaks of daylight searching out the chinks in the curtains. Had she been dreaming or had Adam really called her darling? He had spoken with such tenderness and fear.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor who quickly established that there was nothing wrong with her that a good rest would not put right.
"If your headache doesn't ease off," he said on his way out, "let me know. You've had a minor concussion and I don't want you going silly on me!"
"You mean sillier!" she smiled, and was still smiling somewhat illogically, when Adam returned.
"You're to stay in bed all day," he pronounced. "I'll tell mother you have a cold. Don't mention the fire when you do see her."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Sharon said indignantly. "I'm not a fool."
He looked so sardonic that she immediately regretted her reply. How quickly he had reverted to his earlier antagonism now he knew she was unhurt. If receiving his tenderness meant having to be ill, she could see herself becoming a permanent invalid.
"Beryl's bringing you a hot drink," he went on. "If there's anything else you need, ring the bell."
"Yes, sir," she said meekly, which brought her another of his sardonic looks before he departed.
Although she had professed to be unharmed by her experience, Sharon was glad of a day in bed, and she slept for the best part of it.
It was late afternoon before she awoke. She felt considerably better and was debating whether Adam would be provoked to further argument if she got dressed, when Beryl came in with a large bunch of yellow roses.
Sharon held out her arms. "How lovely! Are they from… ?"
"Mr. Lennox, madam. He heard of your accident and called with them."
"How nice of him."
Sharon strove to keep the disappointment from her voice as she buried her head in the scented blooms.
Serve her right for thinking Adam had sent them. She handed them back to Beryl to put in water and then made sure the vase was placed out of her line of vision. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of Simon.
"Is Mr. Adam in London?" she asked casually.
"Yes. But he didn't leave till late this morning. He waited till you'd had your breakfast." The maid chuckled. "He was pacing the hall when I came down with your empty tray. Reminded me of an expectant father!"
Sharon lowered her head, embarrassed by the warmth that flooded through her at Beryl's remark. If Adam was anxious about her, he was going to extraordinary lengths not to let her know it. It had to mean he was still fighting his attraction for her… and the only reason he fought it must have been that he still believed the worst of her.
Her impulse to get up for dinner faded. There was no point making an effort to be nice to him. He saw her in a particular light and nothing she did would alter his opinion.
The next morning, fully recovered, she called in on Mrs. Peters. The woman was touchingly pleased to see her, though worried she might have got up too soon.
"You modern girls tend to treat colds too lightly," she warned.
"It was only a slight one," Sharon lied. "Not bad enough for me to have stayed in bed at all, except that Adam insisted."
"Did he really" His mother looked delighted. "I'm so glad he's taking care of you."
Sharon quickly changed the subject. "You're the important one. How are you feeling?"
"Bored."
"Are there any errands I can do for you? Buy some magazines for you to read perhaps?"
"What a good idea." Mrs. Peters mused quietly for an instant.
"If you wouldn't object to taking a bus, you could go into Milwood and change my library books. I'm afraid Adam has the car."
"I'll enjoy a bus ride."
"If you stayed on here I'd get you a car of your own," Mrs. Peters said.
Sharon made no comment, and with a sigh her mother-in-law pointed to the two novels on her bedside table.
"The library has my list," she explained, "so make sure Miss Hodges gives you something from it. She's always trying to fob me off with books of her own taste!"
Happy at
the chance to be useful—if only in a minor way—Sharon set off for the market town. She had no idea when the buses ran, but since she had all day to waste, it didn't really matter. She also welcomed the opportunity to get away from Green Spinney, and with an almost light heart she reached the bus stop and settled herself for a long wait.
The sun shone down on her head and a slight breeze ruffled her silvery hair. A bumblebee droned past and settled on the hedgerow, its buzzing merging into the louder drone of the single-decker red bus she could see grinding its way up the hill.
It drew to a stop in front of her and she took a seat near the door. At this time of the morning there were few people on it: a couple of women with shopping baskets and some children giggling and quarrelling among themselves.
In spite of empty roads and few stops, the journey to Milwood took half an hour and Sharon descended at the town centre feeling soothed by the pleasant jogging journey through the countryside.
She strolled down the High Street until she found the library, and though the librarian asserted she had just the book for Mrs. Peters, Sharon insisted on her finding something from her mother-in-law's list. After completing a couple of errands—a packet of long pins for Beryl and some herbal tea for the cook—she decided to have a cup of coffee.
Entering a small chintz-and-bamboo coffee shop, she took a seat near the window. Hardly had she settled when a man's voice spoke her name and Simon bore down on her.
"What a stroke of luck to see you here," he smiled. "I called at the house this morning to find out how you were and was informed you'd gone shopping."
"There was no reason I shouldn't. I'm as fit as a flea!"
He glanced at the chair beside her and she nodded, knowing she had no choice to do otherwise. She remembered their last meeting but then remembered the yellow roses he had sent her.
"The flowers were lovely," she said.
"It was the least I could do."
His voice was grim and she noticed he had lost some of his ruddy colour. It made him look older than usual and, not for the first time, she wondered why he had never married.
Rachel Lindsay - Forgotten Marriage Page 8