'No.' Briony sat down at the kitchen table. She felt strangely weak. She looked at her friend. 'He's not married, Prom.'
'Matthew isn't?'
'No, Teale isn't. Rhoda is Matthew's wife.'
'Ah, I see!' The words were heavily loaded, but Briony didn't take exception. She was reliving the moment when she'd learned Rhoda wasn't Teale's wife, remembering that unnerving spurt of something that had felt suspiciously like joy. 'Here's your coffee,' Promilla said. 'You look as if you need it. What did Matthew say exactly?' And, when Briony had told her, 'That only means Teale isn't married to Rhoda,' she pointed out. 'It doesn't mean he isn't married to someone else. Look before you leap, Briony.'
'I wasn't about to "leap" anywhere! I just wish I'd known before, that's all.' But, at her friend's words, Briony's heart had sunk abysmally.
'So that you wouldn't have been so discouraging when he asked if he could call round again?' The two girls had no secrets from each other.
'I suppose so.' Briony was prepared to admit that much.
'If by any chance he is single and he's really interested in you, that won't put him off. But find out a bit more about him before you go losing your heart.'
'I'm not likely to do that,' Briony argued. 'I'm not even sure I like him. It's just that there's something about him that makes me… Oh, I don't know.' She shivered.
'Chemistry,' Promilla said briskly. 'A dangerous ingredient in many relationships, as you very well know. I wouldn't fall in love with a man just because I found him physically attractive.'
'Nor would I—not these days,' Briony maintained. 'Do you ever wish,' she asked curiously, 'that your parents had "arranged" a marriage for you, in the old way?'
'Yes, sometimes. I would have liked to marry and have children. But I was brought up in England. I'm not sure I could reconcile the two cultures. I enjoy the freedom women in this country have.'
Every time the doorbell jangled that day, Briony looked up, heart in mouth, half expecting to see Teale Munro. But she knew it was an unreasonable expectation. He'd seemed to accept his conge.
Over lunch, Promilla put to an unusually talkative Matthew the questions Briony longed but feared to ask.
'What exactly is Teale Munro's connection with Rhoda?'
'She's his sister.' Matthew seemed surprised she even had to ask. 'His twin sister,' he qualified. 'They've always been very close. Hence the protective attitude.'
'Is Teale married?'
'No!' Matthew said the word explosively. The question seemed to annoy him, for as he replied he rose and pushed back his chair with a harsh, scraping noise. 'Thanks for the lunch. I'll get back to work now.' For some reason, he had withdrawn into his old, uncommunicative shell.
'Now what?' Promilla looked at Briony.
'Search me!'
When finally Teale Munro did come, Briony was out. She'd offered to deliver Promilla's latest batch of cushions and quilts to Sukie Wareing in Ilfracombe. Promilla didn't really enjoy driving. But it wasn't that. Briony felt that she just couldn't spend another day in the shop, in the state of nervous anticipation that had engulfed her all week. Teale Munro wasn't coming back and that was that. The best thing she could do was forget him and get on with her work and her life.
Briony drove fast, but with skill and verve. She loved cars, and the open sports model handled well. Unlike many people, she found driving relaxed her and she was in a sunny mood when she breezed back into the shop with a cheque for Promilla and another 'urgent' order.
'That settles it.' Promilla said. 'I'll have to advertise for an assistant.'
'Are you likely to find anyone with the right skills around here?'
'I can but try. Oh, by the way,' as Briony made for the stairs, 'your boyfriend's been in.'
Briony stood very still, one foot on the stairs, her back to her friend. She felt as if every hair on the nape of her neck had risen, and she knew her face had flushed betrayingly.
'Teale was here?'
Promilla giggled. 'I'm glad you don't pretend not to know who I mean.'
'Did he come to see Matthew?' Briony wouldn't let herself hope.
'He looked in on him, but he came to see you, as you very well know.'
'And I wasn't here,' Briony groaned. She turned back into the shop and saw her friend's round face creased into a beaming smile. 'What are you grinning at?' she enquired indignantly. 'It isn't funny.'
'You. You look so tragic. But there's no need—he's coming back.'
'He is? When? Oh, I look a mess! I'm all hot and windblown.'
'Don't panic. Relax. You've got plenty of time. He's coming at seven-thirty to take you out to dinner. A peace offering, he said!'
'Dinner? But I haven't said I'll… How does he… ?'
'I told him I was sure you'd be happy to accept.'
'Prom! You didn't!' Briony was horrified. 'What will he think? He'll guess we've been discussing him.'
'It won't hurt him to have his ego repaired a little. He came in here looking more like a man going to the scaffold than a prospective lover. I don't think he was expecting a very warm reception.'
'Prom!' Briony expostulated again. 'You mustn't say things like that. He's not a prospective lover. It's probably just a guilt thing. You know, a way of apologising for his suspicions.'
'I don't believe that—any more than you want to believe it,' her friend told her.
When the doorbell rang that evening, promptly at seven-thirty, Briony felt her insides shake, and she experienced a fluttering weakness in her legs.
'Aren't you going to answer it?' Promilla asked.
'I can't!' Briony gasped. 'You go.'
As an amused Promilla moved to comply, Briony fled back into her bedroom and, for the tenth time since she'd dressed, she anxiously inspected her appearance. She hadn't been at all influenced by Teale's remark the other day about hippies, she told herself. But, all the same, she was conventionally dressed tonight.
She'd had the dress for years, but the silky navy material with its pattern of tiny white polka dots was cut in a style that did not date and she knew it suited her. Its colour deepened and intensified the blue of her eyes, made a foil for the rich red of her hair. Her flawless skin required very little make-up, other than a moisturiser. Her warm red mouth owed nothing to artifice.
The sound of voices in the outer room told her she could delay no longer and, with one last despairing glance at herself, she took a deep gulp of air and went out to face Teale Munro.
He very nearly took her breath away. She'd been a little afraid he might be in evening dress. Instead, he wore a charcoal-grey suit that had obviously been tailored to fit his tall, lithe body. A gleaming white shirt and a darker grey tie completed the outfit.
'Briony!' He moved quickly towards her, his hand outstretched. 'I hope you didn't mind this arrangement being made in your absence? You look charming,' he went on before she could think of any suitable reply. If it hadn't been ridiculous for a man of his age and sophistication, she would have thought he was nervous, too. Still talking, he steered her towards the door and, before she'd had time to collect her wits, she was sitting in his car, an old but immaculately maintained silver Rolls-Royce.
'Wh-where are we going?' was all she could think of to say.
'There's a very good restaurant on the outskirts of Barnstaple. I've reserved a table. They have a cabaret on Friday evenings and a dance. You do dance?' he asked anxiously.
'Yes,' Briony said faintly. He must think her an absolute drip, with no social conversation. But events were moving too swiftly for her. She'd barely got used to the idea of dining with him when she found she would also have to dance with him. The thought of it, the idea of being held close to that lean, rangy body, was playing havoc with her nerves.
'Good!' He didn't seem to have noticed anything untoward.
He was an excellent driver. Briony's eyes were drawn irresistibly to his hands, relaxed but always in command of the steering-wheel. They were strong, capable-looking han
ds, slightly roughened by short, dark hair. Briony recalled how they had fell when she'd flown at him and he'd grasped her wrists. Unable to control the involuntary reaction, she shivered. Slight though it was, it did not escape his notice.
'Warm enough?'
'Oh—yes—thank you.' Snap out of it, she urged herself. Think of something intelligent to say. But, though she racked her brains, not a single topic recommended itself to her.
'You're not annoyed?' he said, then saved her the necessity of asking what he meant, by adding, 'You're very quiet. Perhaps you didn't want to come out with me?'
'Oh, yes. I mean—no, I'm not annoyed. And thank you very much for asking me.' You sound like a teenager on her first date instead of a mature woman, she told herself despairingly.
'That's all right, then.' Briefly, one of his hands covered one of hers.
Oh, lord, Briony thought. How was she to get through this evening without betraying the confused upheaval within her?
The restaurant was an excellent choice. Briony had never been there before. In fact, though she and Promilla had been in Devon for more than two years now, there had been little time for socialising or exploring the surrounding countryside. Most of their contacts were business ones, and their search had been for shops rather than restaurants—outlets for their work.
Teale gave their order for steak with a side salad, and chose an appropriate wine.
'I don't drink,' Briony protested as he filled her glass. 'Honestly, I'd much rather have water.'
'This isn't drinking!' he teased. 'A little of this won't hurt you. It sharpens the appetite.'
Her appetite certainly needed sharpening, Briony thought wryly. She didn't feel a bit hungry; she was too nervous. In a way, it was reassuring to find that she could still feel this way. It was recapturing for her the delightful lost teenage years when every new date was an adventure. She recalled the exciting will-he-won't-he-kiss-me speculation in which she and her friends had always indulged. The thought brought her up sharply. Would Teale expect to kiss her after this evening? Should she let him? But she wasn't allowed much time for nervous conjecture.
'Now, tell me about yourself.'
'Goodness!' she said involuntarily. 'I wouldn't know where to start!'
'Has your life been that eventful?' His grey eyes were laughing at her. It was amazing how a change of mood had affected their colour. They were no longer a cold shade of steel, but warm and alive, with a darker ring of grey around the iris. Briony suddenly realised how intently she was staring into those eyes and dropped her gaze to her plate.
'It's just that I don't know what you'd find interesting,' she told him.
'Well, for a start, what are you doing in Devon? You're not local?'
'No—' she ventured to look at him again '—I was born in Essex. The nearest town of any size was Saffron Walden. My father was a farmer.'
'A wealthy one, or an impoverished one?' And, as a look of pain disturbed Briony's face, 'I'm sorry. That smacks of impertinence.'
'Oh, no. It's just that he was quite well-to-do once. But he made some bad investments and lost all his money. It's when things like that happen,' she said with a trace of bitterness, 'that you find out whether people are really fond of you for your own sake.'
'A man?' Teale hazarded, and as she nodded he reached across the table and took one of her hands. 'Never mind,' he said comfortingly, 'better to find out before it's too late.'
'Yes,' she agreed. The trouble was that in some ways it had already been too late. But Briony didn't want to bore someone like Teale Munro with the shadows from her past. Quickly, she reverted to her presence in Devon, briefly outlining her long friendship with Promilla, their decision to go into partnership and make a break from their former surroundings. 'Munro doesn't sound like a Devonshire name?' She was eager to know more about him, too.
'No. My parents came from Stirlingshire. But they settled here, and my sister and I were born here.'
'Are you and your sister alike?'
He laughed. It was an engaging sound and Briony watched, mesmerised, all her attention riveted on his face as it broke up into lines and clefts that emphasised his craggy attraction.
'Facially, we're very alike. But I'm nearly six foot and she's hardly any taller than you. Anyway, we're supposed to be talking about you. Have you any brothers and sisters?'
'No, I was an only child. And both my parents are dead now. My father died two years ago.' Remembered sadness clouded her piquant little face again. Though she and her father hadn't been all that close, she'd missed him, and his death had precipitated an unhappy train of events.
'And you've no one else?' Teale interrupted her train of thought.
She hesitated, then said, 'My only living relative is in France.' She said it with deliberate casualness. She didn't want to talk about her ownership or lack of a family any further. It was too personal a subject to discuss with a total stranger.
Briony allowed herself to be persuaded to a second slice of gateau. As they talked, Teale had kept filling up her glass and she felt pleasantly relaxed and not a little woozy. She was surprised to find that she'd cleared her plate. It must have been the wine, she mused.
While coffee was being served, the cabaret began, two men and two girls singing popular songs. It was nothing pretentious and lasted just long enough not to become tedious. Briony felt so at ease with Teale now that she did not experience the slightest flicker of alarm when he stood up and invited her to dance.
But, once she was in his arms, it was a very different matter.
CHAPTER THREE
'Relax, Briony!' Teale's hand tightened on her waist. 'You're as tense as the day you decided to use me as a punchbag. We're friends now—I hope?'
'Yes. I'm sorry, I expect it's because I haven't been dancing for some while.' Briony knew it wasn't that. It was the closeness of his hard, vital body, the brush of his legs against hers, the intense sexual awareness, the effort to repress the betraying shivers that threatened to course along her spine.
He seemed to accept her excuse.
'Then we must see to it that you get more practice. I like to dance, don't you?'
'Yes, very much.' The words came out on a breathless note, as though she'd been running instead of moving in this slow, drugging way around the floor. Her awareness of him physically was increasing with every minute. Her heart was thudding so loudly that she wondered he was not aware of it.
There was little room to manoeuvre on the small dance-floor, but Briony didn't object to the crush. They danced every dance and she let Teale guide her round the floor. She was wrapped in a mysterious, drowsy sweetness, totally given up to the sensations that engulfed her, arousing wanton emotions inside her. She didn't want the evening to end, so it was with a sense of deeply felt deprivation that she realised the last waltz was over and Teale was leading her from the floor.
'Not too tired, I hope?' he asked as he eased into the driving seat of the Rolls-Royce.
'Not a bit.' The languor that possessed her was not fatigue.
'Good. It's such a beautiful night, I thought we'd drive along the coast. I never tire of looking at the sea.'
Briony knew she was letting her imagination run rampant. But she was picturing that drive, seeing the car stopping, overlooking some isolated bay, Teale turning towards her. She was imagining his lips crushing her own, kissing her with the hunger and urgency of male appetite. And she knew she wouldn't object. She was filled with an aching longing to be back in the intoxication of his arms.
Teale engaged first gear and the car glided smoothly away.
'I feel I owe you some explanation about my behaviour towards Matthew, about Matthew himself,' he said, breaking in on her mood of dreamy euphoria. 'And it's not the kind of thing you can talk about in a public restaurant.'
Briony felt disappointment swamp her. He only wanted to talk, while she wanted so much more. Her readiness to be swayed by him was disturbing. It was a long time since any man had affected her in t
his way. She wasn't sure she had ever known such intense physical sensations. This man stirred every nerve she possessed. Her brain fought a desperate battle to keep control over her body and to concentrate on what he was saying.
'You don't have to explain,' she said. 'It's obviously a family matter.'
'I'd like to tell you,' Teale persisted. 'You see, last week was the first time any of us had seen Matthew for several years. He'd just disappeared into the blue as far as we were concerned. He went off without a word. Rhoda was devastated. She still loves him, in spite of everything.'
'You can't just forget all those years of marriage,' Briony pointed out. 'There are so many shared memories. Are there any children?'
'Three. Two boys and a girl, seventeen, sixteen and fifteen. It hasn't been easy for Rhoda these last few years, bringing them up on her own.'
'Matthew implied that you'd never approved of him.'
'I didn't, I still don't. He's turned out exactly as my father predicted. At twenty-two he was a no-hoper, and he's still a no-hoper. Oh, I know you think he's got talent. You're probably right. I've never claimed he wasn't intelligent. But he'll never put it to any good use.'
'How did they meet?'
'At art school. He looked and behaved much the same then as he does now: the long hair, the beard, the irresponsible character. At twenty-two, it was an image practically every art student cultivated. But at forty— well, it's just plain ridiculous.'
Briony could see that it would be totally incomprehensible to Teale. His own appearance was conventional, even when wearing casual clothes. And he was obviously well-off. She wondered where his money came from, whether it was inherited or whether he followed some profession. But she didn't like to ask.
'Where does your sister live?'
'These days, she lives in a cottage on part of my property. I can help her a bit now. When she was first married, I couldn't—I was still making my own way. And, even if I'd been able to, Matthew wouldn't have accepted help from me. From women,' a note of anger crept into his voice, 'yes; from me, no.'
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