‘A gambler?’ Curiosity flickered through Sue’s grey eyes, and Meric’s mouth twisted with obvious amusement.
‘There are many kinds of gambling, Sue. He gambled everything he had and I suppose it paid off, but he lost his life.’
She glanced at him, startled, meeting the cool level gaze. Breathlessly she asked, ‘What did he really do?’
‘Gold-mining.’ He didn’t add anything else.,
‘Oh, I see ...’ She didn’t like his harder expression.
‘No, you don’t, but leave it. Sufficient to say that I returned.’
‘But you must have lived in South Africa a long time,’ she persisted. ‘Didn’t you mind leaving?’
‘If I had I shouldn’t have left. I had only myself to please. Maybe I felt the pull of my native land. How about you?’ Lazily he stretched his long legs to the fire, subtly diverting her interest in his own affairs. ‘You’ve lived in London all your life, yet I take it you don’t miss it too much?’
‘Not really ...’ Uncertainly Sue paused. It seemed a ready-made opportunity to ask his advice about the flat, and it was inevitable that she asked someone. It wasn’t a decision she felt free to make herself. Meric Findlay, in spite of his derogatory remarks about her deserting when he had found her in the drawing-room, was the obvious person to ask. He had been with her father for years and, in the circumstances, must know him much better than she did. Making up her mind, she said quickly, before she could change it again, ‘It’s the flat. I’m not quite sure what to do with it. If I let it go I’m not likely to find anything so reasonable. Finding anything at all is very difficult. ’
He flicked her an odd look, his eyes narrowed. ‘So we’re back to that again. You want to go home.’
It was a statement, not a question. He had already come to his own conclusions. Anger slipped through her, reflecting in her eyes as they met his dark ones. ‘You deliberately misunderstand! You enjoy judging me without knowing any of the facts. You must realize that I had to live somewhere before I came here. My mother and I had a flat. Someone she knew let her have it cheaply, or cheaply perhaps compared with prices here. The lease still has some time to run, but that isn’t the problem. When I left it was merely to deliver a letter. I intended to return and find a teaching post.’
‘That isn’t a problem, either. You could easily find such a job around here,’ he said dryly, his eyes as wary as her own.
‘That’s not the point!’ Wildly Sue felt like tearing her hair, but he only laughed hardly.
‘You could try explaining exactly why you want rid of that lease but daren’t let it go.’
‘Oh, don’t be absurd!’
‘I’m not being absurd,’ he pointed out calmly. ‘But until you’re willing to elucidate more clearly, my remarks might continue to infuriate. ’
‘I was leading up to it!’ Defensively, her cheeks pink, Sue dropped her eyes from his to stare down at the fire again. Her hair fell across her cheek and she thrust it impatiently to one side. Did he expect her to throw all her half-formulated fears in a heap at his feet? She had only asked about the flat. Not for an inquisition!
Confusing her still more, he leant forward, his hand shooting out to grasp her wrist, ‘I wouldn’t want you to strain those ingenious resources of yours, Miss Frazer. You just take your time, While you’re thinking about it I might well pass the time making us a nice cup of coffee. The ingredients will all be
in the kitchen, right down to the powdered milk.’ He grimaced, shrugging his wide shoulders as he released her hand and stood up. “We might reach some sort of understanding before midnight, but that’s up to you. I’m not in any hurry,’
CHAPTER FIVE
SUE rose to her feet and followed him into the kitchen, her wrist still tingling where his fingers had gripped, the sensation, illogically disturbing, running up her arm. Every instinct cried out against having coffee with him here in this old cottage where it was so easy to whip up an atmosphere of intimacy which she wished to avoid. She was too aware of Meric Findlay not to realize he could be dangerous, although, she decided wryly, she was probably insane to imagine that he had any personal interest in herself.
On her round of exploration she had missed the kitchen and she saw now that it was small, more of a kitchenette, something like what they had had in the flat. In the confined space two people could scarcely move without touching and she gazed around, pretending curiosity, but only conscious of the man by her side. There was in the sardonic gleam of his dark eyes, that which dared her to retreat. She didn’t even dare a murmur of protest about coffee.
Which left her no good reason for being there. Confused, she sought to explain her presence in another way. 'I asked Father about coming back to live here, but he doesn’t seem to keen. I can’t really understand him.’
Meric removed his narrowed glance from her face, turning to the cooker with the kettle he had just filled, striking a match as he switched on the gas before settling the kettle on the naked flame. ‘Does that mean,’ he asked softly, ‘that you don’t care for living with me?’
At this Sue looked up, startled that he had applied his own interpretation, uncertain that she agreed with him, yet unwilling to concede even an element of doubt. ‘You’re quite wrong,’ she retorted over-vehemently. ‘As we scarcely see you I don’t know what put that into your head!’
'You don’t claim any responsibility?’
Was he alluding to his frequent absence, or the latter part of her statement? Refusing to be drawn, she rejected his remark as nonsensical, and went on, ‘I really would like to live here, but he won’t even discuss it,’
He lifted his head from the stove and looked her full in the eye, his voice on a thin line of patience, ‘I’ve told you before to give him time.’
‘You mean to recover?’
"Not exactly. ’ He spoke flatly, as Sue might have done to one of her own pupils, ‘It’s a big thing for him at the moment to come to grips with the past, Living with me, at the big house, he doesn’t feel committed to anything.’
Sue frowned, her smooth brow wrinkling, not fully understanding although she wanted to. In retrospect she considered her father’s behaviour, ‘On his good days he sometimes takes me to see my grandmother’s portrait in the drawing-room, almost as if by comparing the two of us he can convince himself that I am his daughter.’
Meric passed her a jar of instant coffee. Opening a cupboard, he took two mugs from their hooks, putting them on the sink-unit as she unscrewed the top of the jar. Silently he handed her a spoon, ‘You’re trying to say that he doesn’t attach any reality to you?’
‘If you like to put it that way.’ Carefully Sue measured out two spoonfuls of coffee. ‘I know he doesn’t love me, not yet anyhow. I know he likes me, and has some sort of family feeling towards me, but that’s all,’
‘And you expect more?’
She tried to speak more boldly, but her voice quivered. ‘I don’t expect anything. I had hoped, maybe, but I don’t honestly know how I feel myself. ’
His eyebrows lifted, creasing his brows in a way she found disconcerting, while his mouth quirked resignedly at one corner. His patience, it seemed, was being tried a little. ‘Listen, Sue, it might be better if you looked at the whole thing from this angle. Remember what I told you when you first came? Think of yourself as an orphan, a foster-child, and be content to let your relationship with John develop gradually. If you like each other, then you’ve got a good base on which to work. But for heaven’s sake get rid of all these guilty feelings of inadequacy. ’
Sue’s face registered bewilderment rather than conviction. ‘The trouble is I’m not a child. Besides, children usually accept situations without curiosity, and I’m afraid I can’t do that. ’
He returned her gaze with long-suffering endurance. ‘So there are things you want to know. Well, fire away, but don’t be too disappointed when I don’t know the answers.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, with a matching irony. ‘I did
n’t make a list. Just the odd thing, perhaps. What my father is really like - deep down. It might be a whole lot easier if I knew. ’
‘Why?’
She hesitated, conscious more than ever of the rock-like arrogance in his face. His eyes held hers, making it impossible to look away. Nothing could be easy beneath that intimidating stare. Stumbling, she attempted to put into words thoughts which she had always kept hidden. ‘My mother ... She never believed in showing her feelings. I can never remember her giving me a hug, or showing any affection, not towards me or anyone I ever knew. It might sound ridiculous, but sometimes I used to think she was partly frozen, incapable of being warm and outgoing, all the normal,
natural things a mother ought to be. But I don’t seem to be making much headway with my father, either. ’
His head went back as comprehension dawned, yet his eyes lingered sardonically on her taut face. ‘And you can’t let it go. You’ve got to delve and dig and dissect, and now you’re wondering if you’ve inherited adverse characteristics, maybe from both of them? What you’ve got to get into that beautiful head of yours is that experiences such as your parents went through invariably leave a scar, but not one which need necessarily affect their offspring. What makes you think that you’re cold by nature, not capable of all the normal responses?’
She drew back startled from the gleam in his eye, her pulse jerking. “You aren’t much help, are you! I was only pointing out a possibility.’
“And I was merely pointing out that you seem quite well adjusted to me. If you must pursue the matter further, then there are questions you must ask yourself. How do you react when a man makes love to you, for instance? I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that one.’
Mockery had replaced the even keel of his voice, and Sue flushed scarlet at the bluntness of his words. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she spluttered, knowing very well what he meant but unable to confess, when it came to the point, that she had never known any wild thrill when a man had kissed her. Did that amount to coldness?
His gaze moved wickedly over her face. ‘I could demonstrate, if you like, but you might not approve of my methods.’
‘Oh!’ Sue felt the colour deepen in her face as he left her in no doubt of his intentions. Still full of nervous confusion, she turned her head. ‘I think we’re talking about two entirely different things.’
‘But each of which is irrevocably bound up with the other, my little coward.’
A minute ago she had trembled when he said she was beautiful. Now he called her a coward. She drew back, her eyes fixed on his face, widely resentful, the thick lashes flickering. ‘I don’t agree. I wouldn’t have mentioned the subject at all but for the fact that my problems don’t just concern me, personally. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.’
Those dark eyes examined her face again, and suddenly the kitchen was too small. Heat swept up through her body and, unconsciously, her hand went to her shirt neck, undoing the top button so that the skin of her throat gleamed smoothly white. She had a frightening feeling that she was suffocating. If she had hoped to receive rational advice then she had obviously approached the wrong person. There was no help here in the indolent tilt of dark eyebrows, the mocking speculation in equally dark eyes.
‘I don’t think you can be a bit like your mother,’ he drawled, blocking the entrance to the kitchen effectively as if he guessed her desire to escape. ‘Quite clearly, in spite of her failings, she must have been a person of decision, which you’re not. You want someone to make yours for you all the time. Well, to make a start, you can get rid of
your London flat right away. If you should ever need another place, then I’ll supply it. And secondly, you can forget about a teaching post, or anything else, at the moment, and about leaving the big house to live here. These sort of decisions are not beyond my intelligence, but don’t let my generosity fool you. It’s limited. Eventually there are things you’ll have to decide for yourself.
‘Such as ...?’ she gasped, no proper gratitude assailing her senses, rather a blind flame of anger at his excessive conceit.
His hand caught her as she began to move away while his hard laughter went over her head. ‘Such as when you met the right man, my dear Sue. If you don’t recognize him yourself, don’t come running to me.’
Her grey eyes clouded with impotent fury as she tried to escape his cruel fingers; as she tried to match his laughter but could only manage a flippant remark. ‘I don’t think I should worry you on that account. I hope I’m quite capable of choosing my own friends.’
‘Which isn’t exactly the same thing, and I doubt it.’ His reply was as audacious as his grip on her waist. She stopped struggling. Against his superior strength she was helpless. Besides, she had a suspicion that he enjoyed taunting her. Probably with the intention of punishing her a little for pestering him with her problems, when he must surely have enough of his own.
His voice came, full of soft derision, in her ear as she stood tensely within his hands. ‘I don’t think you’d find anything much wrong with your own emotional responses if you gave them a chance. You can’t keep them in a refrigerated container for ever.’
Stormily she swung around, her eyes alight with hostility, an attempted defence against her young vulnerability. Illogically she cried, ‘How I tick underneath can be of no interest to you. You don’t run my life!’
‘I’m willing to take anything on - at a price.’ Still the gleam of mockery ran through his eyes, but blindly she didn’t see it. She only saw the size and bulk of him. The hardness which she coveted but could never achieve.
Colour smouldered recklessly in her cheeks. ‘You may be my father’s manager, but you can’t expect to manage me!’
‘Is that so?’ His dark head went back with considerable menace as he stared down at her polished skin, the sheen on her fair, heavy hair. ‘I’ll admit I have known myself to be mistaken about people, but not often.’ His mouth moved and she knew he was angry. ‘It seems that mere words aren’t enough to convince you. There are other ways which you might appreciate better. ’
With deliberate intent he moved his hands slowly to her shoulders, in such a way as to stop the breath in her throat. She was conscious of his physical nearness and a trembling assailing her limbs. He was holding her imprisoned between the wall and his body. The kettle boiled and his hand went out to switch off the gas, but he made no attempt to let her go. His eyes had never left her pale face. ‘You’ve succeeded in arousing my curiosity as well as my temper, a rather dangerous combination, would
you not agree?’
Sue imagined she felt the impact of his kiss seconds before his lips came down on hers. Desperately she tried to retain the tension in her body, but anticipation clouded her mind as it sharpened her physical response. Strength drained out of her when, as if determined to scatter the last remnants of her resistance, his arms tightened, pressing her softness against him, his eyes stabbing sharply through her as her own closed before the ruthlessness of his. Against the strength of his arms and his obvious experience she was helpless, yet while instinct warned her not to struggle, her traitorous body wouldn’t allow her to remain passive in his arms. Her hands lifted in a feeble attempt to push him away, but only managed to reach his chest where the feel of his hard muscles seemed to shatter coherent thought. With a soft moan she felt sensation explode through her like splintering glass, sending her arms up around his neck, to cling tightly where his hair grew down to a clean smoothness at the back of his head. His lips moved over her mouth, bruising the soft skin, and aroused in her a response which was frightening in its intensity,
At last with narrowed eyes he raised his head, pushing the tumbled hair back from her brow, the better to see her flushed face. It wasn’t the hand of a man unused to making love. Sue was quick to realize this, but not to care. It was there, in the thin red line of difference between the boys she had known and a man who knew what he was doing. Her heart beating unevenly kept time with her frantic pulse
as she lifted her heavy eyelids and stared at him, stunned. His arms and lips had aroused a mad, dizzy sort of magic, like riding a shooting star, and she suddenly didn’t want him to stop.
‘Please ...’ she whispered against his mouth.
But he drew back, his dark face intent within inches of her own. ‘Does that mean, Miss Frazer, that you would like a repeat performance, or that you want me to let you
go?’
His voice had a note of cynicism, so slight that she could have been mistaken. Only his eyes, curiously watchful, told her she was not. Yet his ironic question startled her, bringing her to her senses, stilling a wild confession that she desired only to stay where she was.
With a jerk she pulled away from him. ‘Of course I want you to let me go! If it pleased you to kiss me then consider it payment for time spent listening to my foolish conversation.’
His mouth quirked with unexpected amusement. ‘Tut-tut, Miss Prunes and Prisms! Not many girls who enjoy my caresses are capable afterwards of such a lengthy speech. I must be slipping!’
‘You beast!’ It was all she could think of, a feeble reprisal and not at all effective. Meric continued to hold her lightly, to study her indignant face and tremulous parted lips with the uttermost satisfaction. ‘Somehow I hardly think you’ll question your complete normality again. In spite of your derogatory remarks you might have reason to be grateful to me yet. ’
‘You’re hateful!’ Furious colour licked under her skin. She felt like a butterfly on a pin, knowing that her naiveness amused him, that while her immature response might have flattered his ego, it had not impressed him physically. Desperately she struggled to be free, a pulse beating painfully at the base of her throat, and he watched it as he held her, seeming to forget place and time. Then, so suddenly that she almost fell, his arms weren’t around her any more. She was free as with a swift movement he turned to the still hot kettle and began pouring water into the mugs.
The Kilted Stranger Page 8