'How can I help? I'd like to, of course,' she added hastily as Teak's face seemed to express disappointment. 'But I…'
'Being so young, I thought he might feel more at ease with a woman—a young woman. Mrs Barrett's too old to look after a small boy. Would you object if Rhoda brought him into the shop sometimes? I don't think he'd be any trouble. He's a very quiet child.'
Briony felt a sharp stab of disappointment. For a moment, she'd believed Teale wanted her to involve herself personally in Scott's care.
'I suppose it would be all right. I'll have to ask Promilla, of course.'
'I bet she won't mind. I think your charming friend rather approves of me!' His sudden grin was infectious and, despite her chagrin, Briony found herself smiling back.
'The conceit of some people!'
'If I were conceited,' he said wryly, 'I'd take it for granted that you'd come out with us at weekends—with Scott and me, I mean,' he added as Briony looked questioningly at him. 'But I'm not taking it for granted, I'm asking. Briony, will you take pity on us? It would make things much easier—for both of us.'
She knew he was referring to himself and Scott. But his invitation might make things easier from her point of view. Teale wanted to get close to his son. She wanted to get closer to Teale.
'I'd like that very much,' she said. But she simply could not conceal the pleasure she felt and it irradiated her whole face and glowed in the blue eyes that looked up at him.
'Sunday?'
'Sunday!' she confirmed happily.
Summer was far behind them that Sunday. But the glow of September had continued into October; and there was a correspondingly warm glow in Briony's heart as she drove through the twisting lanes and along the coastline to the manor house.
She was glad she'd worn jeans and sweater and comfortable shoes, for Teale's idea of a suitable outing for his son proved to be a country walk accompanied by three dogs. Scott had been nervous of the animals at first, Teale told Briony.
'But there's not an ounce of vice in them. They've been very gentle with him. They seem to have taken to you too, especially Sally,' he said thoughtfully, looking down at the Springer spaniel plodding close at Briony's heels. Sally was the one who was heavy with pups.
'I'm sure animals know when someone likes them.' She paused to stroke the silky brown and white head and was rewarded with a liquid look of adoration. 'I've never actually owned a dog, but I'd like to some day. They're such good company.'
'Yes,' Teale agreed. 'I do most of my thinking, dreaming up plots and characters, when I'm walking these three.'
'I've often wondered…' Briony flushed at his quizzical glance. She hadn't meant to reveal just how frequently he was in her thoughts, but she went on,'… why you write horror fiction. Isn't there enough horror in the world?'
He tucked a companionable arm through hers and she fought to disguise the shudder of pleasure his touch induced.
'To a certain extent, I think reality should be mirrored in fiction. But you'll agree the kind I write is mostly escapist fantasy?'
'Yes,' she conceded a little breathlessly for, as they walked, their thighs brushed occasionally. 'And at least you always have good triumphing over evil.'
'I feel that's a moral obligation upon me as a widely read author. But I do like to disturb my readers a little, to make them look in a different way at things they've always taken for granted.'
'You may not like me saying this. But you and Matthew have more in common than you might think,' Briony told him. 'Yes,' she insisted, despite his wry grimace. 'Matthew's paintings disturb, make you look again, especially his red skies. When most people think of skies they automatically think of blue.'
They had reached woodland now. The Alsatian and the Dobermann surged ahead, scenting new pleasure. Briony would have expected a small boy to share their eagerness to explore.
'It's not natural,' she exclaimed. 'Look at him! He should be running wild, enjoying himself. He's just trotting along like a sedate little old man. When he came to the shop, it was days before I could get a word out of him.'
'From that, I gather he behaved himself? And,' with a twinkle, 'Promilla didn't object?'
'No, not a bit,' Briony returned his grin, 'once she was sure he wasn't going to get his fingers caught in the machines.'
She flushed a little as she recalled Promilla's comment when she'd heard about the weekend outing. 'Good move, Briony,' her friend had said. 'Get little Scott to look on you as a substitute for Charlene, and maybe his father will follow suit.'
'Does Scott talk to you?' she asked Teale.
'Very little,' he admitted.
A tumbling stream ran through the wooded valley, and Briony's artistic eye found a keen pleasure in the beauty of the autumn trees that flanked its chuckling course, not only in their shapes, seen to perfection now that the leaves were beginning to fall, but in their range of colours: deep pinks, greys, russet-browns and greens, one wood blending into another.
'Indescribably lovely,' Teale agreed when she enthused. He smiled self-deprecatingly. 'Perhaps this is why I write fantasy. It's impossible to do justice to the reality of nature. That's where you, as an artist, have the advantage.'
Earlier, the dogs had flushed out a clattering pheasant. Now Max, the Alsatian, disturbed a grey squirrel and set off in pursuit. The Dobermann followed, howling his excitement. At this, Scott showed his first reaction to his surroundings. His small face, his father's in miniature—how could Teale ever have doubted his parentage?—puckered woefully.
'Will they kill it?' he asked Briony.
'No, Scott.' She crouched on her haunches at the child's level. 'By now that little squirrel will be at the top of a tall tree.' She ventured to take the child's tense little fist in hers, and after a moment's hesitation she felt his fingers relax and curl confidingly about hers. He looked up at her, his grey eyes so like Teale's that Briony felt a spasm of love and longing for father and son run through her. But their acquaintance was not sufficiently advanced for her to give the child the embrace she longed to bestow. If only Scott were her son, hers and Teale's, she thought.
'It's a very long walk, isn't it?' he said with a heartfelt little sigh.
'Are you tired, darling?' When he nodded, she asked him, 'Shall we ask Daddy to carry you on his shoulder?' Unknowingly, the affection she felt sounded in her voice and, to the man watching, her manner with his son seemed admirably relaxed and easy-going, almost as though she were used to dealing with children.
With Scott now riding on Teale's shoulders, they emerged from the wood and followed the winding coastal track. The light was fading now, but it was not so dark that they could not see the tremendous seas. There was a cool little wind and lines of surf were forming far out, sweeping ashore in formidable waves.
'Winter's on its way,' said Teale, and then, as Briony gave an involuntary shiver, 'Hot muffins and some of Mrs Barrett's home-made cake in front of an enormous fire,' he promised.
As Teale had foretold, a log fire burnt cheerfully in the vast grate and within moments of their arrival, pleasantly tired from their afternoon in the fresh air, tea was brought in. To please Scott, they sat cross-legged on the thick pile rug, with only the firelight as illumination, while Teale toasted the muffins on the end of a long fork.
'No soulless oven grilling for me,' he told Briony. 'This is the proper way, the only way to toast muffins. Don't you agree?'
Right then, so long as Teale continued to look at her and smile like that, a contented Briony would have agreed that the moon was made from green cheese if it had pleased him to say so. She was unaware just how attractive she looked as she returned his smile, her red curls still windblown, her face warmed by the fire's radiance. Sally, the only one of the three dogs allowed into the drawing-room, lay stretched out as close to Briony as she could manage, giving little gusty sighs of pleasure as she alternately dozed and looked up at her newfound friend.
If only this moment could be fixed in time, Briony thought, st
ealing a surreptitious glance at Teale's austere profile etched against the firelight. If only every winter's afternoon could be spent like this in his company, but with her as his wife, with their children and animals around them.
'Penny for your thoughts?' he invited, catching her gaze upon him.
'Not worth it,' she lied.
'Or we don't know each other well enough yet for you to tell me, is that it?' he hazarded more accurately than he knew, and Briony held on to that little word 'yet' as a talisman for the future.
'My word! What a cosy family scene!' Rhoda arrived, bringing the cold evening air with her. Her dark good looks, so like her brother's, were enhanced by pinkened cheeks. She was glowing with health and energy, having walked from her cottage up to the big house. She was easily persuaded to join in what remained of their alfresco meal. 'Am I taking Scott into the shop tomorrow, and have I got the car?' she asked her brother.
'If you don't mind, love? I've got a new idea I'm anxious to begin work on. In fact, you can take the car tonight if you like.'
'So that I don't have to interrupt the muse?' Rhoda enquired drily.
'Certainly not. I was thinking it would save you time in the morning.'
'In that case, it would save me even more time if Scott could spend the night at the cottage.' She turned to her nephew. 'Would you like that, lovey?'
'Yes, please, Auntie Rhoda. I like your little house. This house is very big.'
'Yes, love,' his aunt agreed, then sotto voce to her brother, echoing Briony's own thoughts, 'It needs filling with brothers and sisters.'
'No chance!' Teale said emphatically. 'One small boy is enough disruption in my working life.'
His sister threw him a withering look but made no further comment, probably because Scott was present.
'If we go now,' she suggested to the small boy, 'there'll be just time for a game with Libby before you go to bed.'
'Scott seems to have accepted Rhoda quite happily,' Briony said a little enviously as Teale's sister took the small boy to fetch his pyjamas and overnight things.
'I think her Libby's the attraction. At fifteen, she's still child enough to enjoy playing games with him.'
'Don't you play with him?'
Teale's eyebrows lifted comically. 'Don't you think I'm getting a little too long in the tooth for six-year-old games?'
'No!' Earnestly she shook her curly head at him. 'For one thing you're not that old, and for another I don't think you should ever be too old to play with your own children. I…'
'…speak from vast experience, of course!' he said teasingly, and Briony bit back what she had nearly said. She was relieved when Rhoda and Scott reappeared. The little boy was clutching a teddy bear nearly as large as himself. He looked small and vulnerable, and again Briony felt the urge to hug him.
'I ought to be going, too,' she said, albeit reluctantly.
'Surely there's no need for you to rush away?' Teale sounded surprised. 'Are you so busy? On a Sunday?'
'No.' And she wasn't in any hurry to leave. 'But you've got some writing you want to start.'
'Not until tomorrow. Today I set aside for Scott—and for you.' At his words, and aware of Rhoda's speculative gaze upon them, Briony's cheeks coloured becomingly. 'I'd planned for us to listen to some music, to see if our tastes coincide in that field, too,' he went on coaxingly.
'I'd take him up on it if I were you, Briony,' Rhoda advised. 'It's not often this brother of mine emerges from his monklike existence. You may not see him again for weeks on end. He's a real old grouch when he's in the middle of a book.'
'I can understand that,' Briony said. 'I hate leaving a painting when it's going well.'
With Rhoda's departure Briony was aware of a slight constraint. But perhaps it was merely on her side, for Teale seemed totally relaxed.
'Shall we make a pot of coffee before we settle down? Unless you'd like something stronger? Oh, but you don't drink,' he remembered.
'Not since my student days,' she told him. 'Coffee would be fine.'
'Anything to eat?'
'No.' That odd constriction was back in her throat. She knew she wouldn't be able to eat a morsel.
'Come and help me!' He held out his hand and, after a moment's hesitation, she took it and allowed him to lead her across the hall and through the baize door to the kitchen.
'I wait on myself at night,' he explained. 'Mrs Barrett's getting on. She goes to bed early. I suppose the day will come when I'll have to replace her. But I must admit I'm not looking forward to it. She was here when my parents were alive. She's a link with the past. Can you understand that, or do you find it ridiculously sentimental?'
She understood perfectly, and she told him so. It was comforting, too, to find he had a core of sentimentality beneath the independent facade he presented to the world.
She watched as, surprisingly domesticated, quick and deft in his movements, he moved around the well equipped kitchen.
'You didn't really need my help,' she pointed out.
'No,' he admitted with a disarming grin. 'I just wanted an admiring audience for my talents. Though I say it myself, I do make a good cup of coffee.'
They returned to the drawing-room with their coffee; it was excellent, and drinking it staved off the moment when she must think of something to say. Teale meanwhile moved over to a powerful stereo. She watched him, thinking that every time she saw him his looks were more arresting than before, especially when a smile softened his lean, chiselled features.
'What kind of music do you like?' he asked.
Briony had a varied taste but, brought suddenly from her rapt contemplation of him, for the life of her she couldn't think of a single composer or title.
'Oh—anything,' she floundered.
'Then I'll play you some of my favourites.' He put an LP on the turntable, then came to sit beside her.
The music he had chosen was a Schumann symphony. Briony knew it well. It was an inspirational piece she often chose to listen to when painting. A charming, lyrical work, it portrayed perfectly the joys and sorrows of love and the feeling of the composer for natural beauty. But this evening it filled her with nostalgia, with the need for a closer sharing, to know strong arms around her, but in particular to know the love of the man beside her. So strong was her need that she wondered he could not feel it emanating from her.
They sat in silence for a long while, until Teale broke it by saying, 'I had a long chat with Matthew yesterday.' It took Briony a moment to emerge from the mesmeric dream of sensuality that engulfed her. 'He's going down to London to see your contact about an exhibition.'
She forced herself to concentrate.
'Does he want anyone to go with him?'
'Strangely enough, no. I think Matthew may at last have found his feet. I hope so.'
'For his sake?' Briony enquired drily. 'Or for Rhoda's?'
'Both.' Teale took her hand, almost as if unaware that he did so, but his touch was enough to quicken her heartbeat. He gazed earnestly into her eyes. 'I agree with you, Briony. Matthew's had a raw deal out of life so far.' His thumb circled her palm as he spoke thoughtfully, and she was certain he had no idea of what the caress was doing to her already tautened senses. Her body clamoured to be nearer to him and it was all she could do to meet his eyes. 'I suppose I'm partly to blame. But I think we've come to an understanding. He genuinely loves my sister. I'm at last convinced of that.' He was silent for a moment, his eyes still consideringly on Briony's face, and an unbearable tension grew within her. How could he be so close and not sense that she was willing him to kiss her? She had literally to restrain herself from moving towards him and offering her lips, so certain was she the caress must eventually come. 'We all three have reason to be grateful to you, Briony.'
'I didn't really do anything,' she said breathlessly. Deep inside her sensation fluttered like a trapped bird. She felt dizzy, light-headed.
'You gave him an opportunity, encouraged him to find his true potential. On behalf of all o
f us, thank you, Briony.' With the hand he still held he pulled her nearer, then leant forward and put his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and gentle, the kiss almost tentative, but at its touch sensation exploded within her.
With a little sob of gladness she moved closer to him, her free hand curling about the nape of his neck. She seemed to have been waiting a lifetime for this kiss. Her lips parted, inviting his invasion, and she heard his quick intake of breath. His kiss deepened and she was conscious of his tensing muscles and of the shudder that went through him. But then, unbelievably, he captured the hand that had entwined itself in his hair and put her gently away from him.
'I'm sorry. That wasn't meant to happen.' He said it as though it had been his fault, but she knew it hadn't been and the heat of shame swept through her.
'No,' she forced a laugh, 'it wasn't.' She gathered the remnants of her pride. 'I'm sorry, too. Put it down to Schumann!' She aimed for flippancy. 'I always was a sucker for mood music.'
She thought his responding laugh held relief. Her mouth had gone dry and there was a sickness in her stomach. She felt close to tears. She had to get away before she made a complete fool of herself. It took all her self-control to make her movements leisurely as she stretched, yawned and looked at her wristwatch, feigning surprise.
'Goodness! And it's Monday tomorrow! I'd better not be any later.'
It seemed to her that he followed her lead with unflattering alacrity, his manner formal.
'Thank you for giving up so much of your day. I do appreciate it.' He escorted her to the door and as punctiliously saw her to her car.
'Goodnight.' With the engine running, she waited fractionally, giving him the chance to suggest they meet again, but nothing was forthcoming, and a depression that was beyond tears settled over her as she accelerated away.
CHAPTER SIX
'Oh, Prom! I made a damned fool of myself tonight.'
'Nonsense! From what you've told me, I think you carried it off very well.'
'It's taught me a lesson. From now on, I'm going to forget Teale Munro. I'm going to steer clear of him and his family.'
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