There was a soft whining noise at the door, and she hurried to open it, letting in a grateful Ragtag.
Her arms went about his neck as she held him to her. ‘I won’t let him have you, darling,’ she assured him brokenly. ‘I won’t!’
***
Her promise seemed easier said than done, and by the next afternoon she was living in a state of tension, sure that Alfred Cole was going to find out where she was staying and come over here and get Ragtag himself.
She did have a visitor that afternoon, only it wasn’t Alfred Cole.
‘Can I come in?’ Grant asked throatily.
Ryan stood back to let him, frowning her puzzlement. His expression was serious, grimly so. Oh dear, he hadn’t realised Ragtag could be the sheep-worrier too, had he? His first words seemed to indicate that he did.
‘You know why I’m here?’ He had refused her invitation to sit down, and stood in front of the unlit fire, a daunting figure in denims and a dark brown shirt.
She bit her bottom lip. ‘I—I’m not sure. If it’s about Ragtag—’
‘It is.’
Ryan ran her hands nervously over her denim-clad thighs, her white cotton top fitting her loosely. ‘I—I don’t know what to say,’ she looked at him pleadingly, ‘except that I love him. Surely that counts for something?’
His mouth tightened, a pulse beating in his jaw. ‘I’m not a total monster, Ryan, of course it counts for something—with me. Alfred Cole doesn’t feel the same compassion.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Alfred Cole…?’
Grant moved impatiently. ‘He came to see me today. I wish to hell you’d told me the dog was his when I asked you what was wrong yesterday!’
He didn’t think Ragtag was the sheep-worrier! Relief was quickly followed by apprehension. Ragtag still didn’t belong to her. ‘Ragtag doesn’t like him,’ she told Grant desperately. ‘He ran away yesterday when he saw him.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Can you blame him?’
‘No,’ she cringed.
‘Why did you tell me he was yours?’ Grant prompted gently. ‘The day you arrived you said he was yours.’
‘Because I thought he was a stray who’d adopted me. Peter said he’d never seen him before, and I thought—’
‘That if the local vet had never seen him then he didn’t belong to anyone,’ Grant nodded. ‘I doubt if Cole has ever consulted a vet in his life, not even for his stock. So I very much doubt he would bother for a dog.’
‘He has stock?’ Ryan was incredulous.
‘He isn’t quite the tramp he looks,’ Grant drawled. ‘He just doesn’t see the necessity of wasting his money on things like clothes—’
‘—and vet’s bills,’ she finished hardly. ‘Ragtag got his name because of the state he was in when I found him! A man like that doesn’t deserve a beautiful dog like Ragtag.’
‘I agree,’ Grant surprised her by saying. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that the dog is his,’ he added gently.
‘Does he have a licence for him?’
‘Do you?’
‘I could get one,’ she said eagerly.
‘So could he.’
‘Oh.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I could buy him!’
‘And if Cole doesn’t want to sell him?’
‘Couldn’t you ask him?’ Ryan looked at him pleadingly.
‘I already have—’
‘Oh, Grant!’
‘He refused,’ he told her softly. ‘I’m sorry, Ryan, you have no other choice. You have to give him back.’
‘When?’
‘Now would be as good a time as any.’
Her bottom lip trembled as she fought to hold on to her control, tears flooding her eyes. ‘I—er—he isn’t here now,’ as she shook her head the tears overflowed. ‘He—er—he went out. He—he likes to wander,’ she said brokenly.
‘I’ve noticed,’ Grant nodded abruptly. ‘I’ve seen him up at the Hall a couple of times. Look, Ryan, I’m sorry. I—’
‘You aren’t sorry at all!’ she shouted at him, the tears flowing freely now. ‘You don’t like me, you’d do anything you could to hurt me.’
‘Ryan—’
‘Don’t touch me!’ She cringed away from him. ‘I love Ragtag, and if you take him away from me I’ll never forgive you!’
‘Ryan!’ This time he made a lunge for her, grasping her wrist to pull her hard against his chest, holding her against him. ‘I would have done anything not to hurt you,’ he murmured into her hair, holding her firmly as she struggled to be free.
‘Liar!’ She glared up at him fiercely. ‘You’re enjoying this, I know you are!’
A nerve beat erratically in his hard jaw and his expression was bleak. ‘Ryan—darling!’ he groaned, and his mouth lowered to capture hers, moving gently against her lips, comfortingly.
‘No!’ She wrenched away from him, her whole body tense as she glared her anger at him. ‘I hate you!’ she spat the words out. ‘I hate you, do you hear!’
‘I hear you,’ he said dully. ‘I’m sorry, Ryan—I really am. Whether you believe that or not, it’s the truth.’
She was no longer listening to him, was looking in horror towards the doorway as Ragtag strolled in. Go away, you stupid dog, she mentally begged him. But he kept right on coming, sparing a curious glance in Grant’s direction, but displaying none of the dislike he usually did.
Ragtag had been right about Grant from the beginning—he was their enemy. He had come here to separate them, and with Ragtag’s return he was going to succeed.
Grant had seen him too now, sparing a sympathetic look in Ryan’s direction before going down on his haunches to him. ‘Come here, boy,’ he commanded, and to Ryan’s amazement the dog went.
‘No!’ she cried, rushing forward. ‘I won’t let you,’ she began to pummel on Grant’s chest. ‘I won’t let you!’
He stood up, pinning her arms down at her sides, easily holding her gaze with his own. ‘If there were any other way I would take it,’ the quietness of his voice held her attention, ‘but the dog belongs to Cole.’
Ryan gave a shiver of disgust. ‘He’s cruel and unfeeling. Ragtag hates him.’
‘Yes,’ Grant sighed. ‘And I can’t blame him for that. But Cole is threatening to prosecute you unless you return the dog.’
She bit her bottom lip, feeling the warm flow of blood, but not noticing the pain. ‘Can I come with you?’ she requested abruptly. ‘Can I see where Ragtag is to live?’
Grant pursed his lips in disapproval. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Can I?’ she repeated hardly.
He nodded. ‘But I warn you, you aren’t going to like it.’
Ryan sat in the back of the car with Ragtag, the latter happily in ignorance of their destination, his head resting trustingly on her lap. It was his trust that broke her heart. Ragtag believed her to be his friend, that she would never hurt him, and now she was having to give him back to the man who had instilled in him a distrust of all men—a distrust she was fast learning herself!
Her tears flowed freely as they turned into the yard of a farm, the house old and broken-down, badly in need of a coat of paint, filthy curtains hanging up at the windows. Chickens and other livestock wandered freely about the dirty yard, and Grant’s step was careful as he got out of the car.
Ryan cringed back in her seat as Grant opened the car door. ‘It’s awful,’ she choked. ‘You can’t put Ragtag back in this!’ Her distress was clearly shown on her face.
‘I don’t have any choice, Ryan.’ Even as Grant spoke Alfred Cole ambled out of the house, dirtier than ever, his smile malevolent as he saw Ragtag.
‘Come to your senses, have you?’ he sniffed at Ryan. ‘With a bit of help from Mr Montgomery, I don’t doubt.’
‘With a lot of help.’ She felt sick, clinging to Ragtag as he pressed back against her.
‘He knows the law, does Mr Montgomery,’ Alfred Cole leered at her, getting hold of Ragtag’s collar to pull him out of the car. �
�I’ve got a nice piece of rope to tie you to until you know who’s master,’ he scowled down at the dog. ‘You’ll learn that if it’s the last thing I do!’
Grant slammed shut the back door of the car and strode over to the other man to pull him round roughly. What he said to Alfred Cole Ryan couldn’t hear, but the other man seemed to pale with each word that was spoken. With a look of disgust Grant came back to the car and slammed his own door forcefully, then started up the engine, his expression grim.
‘He won’t hurt the dog,’ he rasped suddenly. ‘I’ve threatened him with physical harm if he does.’
Ryan wasn’t listening, but turning to look out of the back window as they drove away, watching as Alfred Cole tied Ragtag to a post by a rope through the collar she had made him wear. He already looked miserable, and Ryan began to sob as though her heart would break. She had only ever loved three things in her life—Diana, Ragtag and Grant—and now Grant had forcibly taken her beloved dog from her. She would never, ever forgive him. Never!
Grant lapsed into silence as she continued to cry, his face grim as he turned to her after parking in front of the cottage. ‘Ryan—’
She gave a choked cry and jumped out of the car to run into the cottage, unable to even look at him. She threw herself down on to the sofa, sobbing as if she would never stop.
Half an hour later a knock sounded on the door, but she made no effort to answer it, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, her arm supporting her head.
‘Oh, love!’ Mark came down on his haunches beside her, obviously having let himself in. ‘Grant told me what had happened.’ He touched her shoulder gently.
Her eyes flashed. ‘He told you how inhuman he’s been? How he’s taken—taken Ragtag from me?’ Her voice broke emotionally.
‘He told me that he had to return the dog to its rightful owner,’ Mark’s voice reprimanded softly. ‘He had no choice, Ryan. The man demanded Duke’s—’
‘Ragtag,’ she insisted fiercely. ‘His name is Ragtag!’
‘Well, his owner wanted him back, no matter what his name is, or was. The man had the law on his side.’
‘And Grant had humanity on his!’ she said bitterly. ‘Ragtag has gone back to a hovel. And I’m sure Alfred Cole will be cruel to him.’
Mark shook his head. ‘Grant will keep a careful eye on him.’
She glared at him. ‘When did he suddenly become your best friend?’ she scorned.
He gave her a reproachful look. ‘I’ve never denied loving Grant, just as I’ve never denied respecting him. The fact that I feel I’m old enough to run my own life without his interference has nothing to do with this.’
‘No,’ Ryan agreed miserably. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘I just—I can’t accept what he’s done.’
‘I understand—’
‘I doubt it,’ she shook her head.
‘But I do, Ryan,’ he insisted quietly. ‘Against your better judgment you’ve allowed yourself to become attracted to Grant. Please don’t deny it,’ he interrupted her protest. ‘Your honesty is one of your endearing qualities. And against his better judgment,’ he continued dryly, ‘Grant has allowed himself to become involved with you too. I don’t know whether it’s love for him, Grant is too adept at hiding his feelings for me to even guess at that. But whatever the depth of your feelings, you’re attracted to each other—’
‘You believe a man who was attracted to me could do this to me?’ she ground out mockingly.
Mark sighed, shaking his head. ‘Grant didn’t have to come here himself this afternoon, after two days’ absence there were plenty of things that needed his more urgent attention on the estate. But Cole threatened to come and take the dog back himself, and I can assure you he would have done it a lot less gently than Grant did. Grant insisted on seeing to the matter himself—’
‘Because he wanted to hurt me!’
‘So that he could spare you any unnecessary pain,’ Mark finished firmly. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Ryan, I really am. Grant has never willingly hurt anyone in his life—’
‘He’s hurt me!’
‘Not willingly. Grant suggested maybe you would like to go back to London with me now,’ he frowned. ‘I think that might be a good idea.’
Ryan sat up, shaking her head; she was very pale and the evidence of tears was still on her cheeks. ‘You invited me here for three weeks, I still have just over a week of that time left.’
‘Ryan—’
‘I’m staying, Mark,’ she told him stubbornly. ‘I—I have to be here, in case I’m needed.’
‘It’s no good living on hope, Ryan—’
‘I have to stay!’
He stood up, his expression angry, looking very like Grant in that moment. ‘I could force you to leave, could withdraw my invitation.’
‘Then I’ll just find somewhere else to stay!’ Her eyes flashed in challenge.
‘All right,’ he sighed, ‘stay. But you’re only making it worse for yourself.’
‘I’ll take that risk,’ she said dully.
‘I’ll say goodbye for now, then,’ he muttered. ‘If you change your mind—’
‘I won’t,’ she told him stubbornly. ‘I’ll see you next weekend, Mark, as planned.’
‘I—You—Goodbye, Ryan.’ His impatience was barely concealed.
***
The next couple of days took on a dreamlike quality for Ryan. She hadn’t realised just how dependent on Ragtag’s company she had become, and just knowing he wasn’t about the cottage, or happily chasing butterflies—his favourite pastime—gave her a feeling of deep depression. She kept imagining she heard him at the door and would hurry to open it, only to find there was no one there.
It was because she was sure he would come back that she rarely left the cottage. Mandy finally came down to see her, expressing her own regret about Ragtag.
But regret couldn’t change the fact that Ragtag was back with that awful man, and when the green Jaguar pulled up outside the cottage on Saturday afternoon Ryan ignored Grant’s knock on the door. She had known that wouldn’t stop him, and a couple of seconds later he walked into the cottage.
She looked up at him dully, a pale resemblance of herself, hunched over the electric fire despite the warmth of the day.
‘Is he here?’ came Grant’s gentle query.
She frowned. ‘Is who here?’
He gave her a narrow-eyed look. ‘You wouldn’t be deceiving me, would you, Ryan?’
‘I probably would if I could,’ she told him bitterly, not having seen him since she had left him so abruptly. ‘But as I have no idea what you’re talking about, no, I’m not.’
He sighed, sitting down in one of the armchairs, stretching his long legs out in front of him. ‘Ragtag has run away.’
Her expression brightened eagerly, the blackness that had engulfed her the last few days suddenly lifting. ‘He has?’ she said breathlessly.
‘Yes,’ Grant rasped abruptly. ‘I thought he might be here. Cole is convinced that he is,’ he grimaced. ‘I had a visit from him this morning.’
‘When did Ragtag run away?’
‘Some time during the night. He apparently chewed through the rope he was tied to.’
‘Good for him!’
‘Perhaps,’ Grant nodded. ‘As long as the loose end hasn’t got him into trouble. I would have thought he would be back here by now.’
Ryan frowned, realising the sense of what he said. ‘You don’t think—’
‘I’ve given up thinking where that dog is concerned,’ Grant said grimly. ‘He’s clever enough to lie low until it gets dark.’
‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ Ryan agreed happily.
Grant’s expression lightened, the tension easing about his mouth. ‘I wish I could be angry with you—and that darned dog, but I can’t.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You can’t?’
‘No,’ he smiled, suddenly sobering. ‘Although if he does turn up here I shall expect you to tell me.’
‘Bu
t you know I won’t.’
He sighed. ‘Yes. I’m sorry all this had to happen, Ryan. But you’ll be pleased to know your lamb is doing very well.’
‘I know,’ she nodded. ‘I’ve been to see him several times,’ she explained. ‘I call him Samson,’ she added.
‘Samson?’ he almost choked.
‘Because he’s strong.’
‘Of course,’ Grant mocked. ‘You’d never make a farmer, Ryan, you’re too soft-hearted.’
‘It’s better than being hard-hearted,’ she told him pointedly.
He stood up to leave, still in his working clothes. ‘I’ll call back again tomorrow,’ he said abruptly.
‘All right,’ she nodded, knowing that if Ragtag did turn up here tonight she would make sure he was nowhere in sight tomorrow when Grant called.
‘I’ll know, Ryan,’ he warned, guessing her thoughts with comparative ease.
She swallowed hard. ‘You’d do the same thing if you were me,’ she defended.
‘Yes,’ he gently touched her cheek. ‘Yes, I would. Until tomorrow, Ryan,’ and he moved away from her, although the touch of his hand and the smell of his aftershave lingered long after he had gone.
Ragtag was free! Ryan hugged that thought to her the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, when she left the cottage door open for his return, standing at the window to watch for him.
By eight o’clock she was really getting worried, remembering what Grant had said about the possibility of the trailing rope getting entangled in some way. By eight-thirty she set out to look for Ragtag herself, leaving the cottage door open in case he should return while she was gone, following the trail they usually took on their walks together. After all, he might not come back to the cottage, might not return to her at all, might not trust her after she had seemingly abandoned him.
After an hour and a half of looking she gave up calling to him, the fall of darkness making it impossible for her to see where she was going.
As she stumbled into the darkness of the cottage she gave a start of surprise. Ragtag was sitting beside one of the armchairs, Grant sitting in the chair absently stroking his head.
Her eyes widened, and she went down on her knees to cuddle the dog, crying once again, her tears wetting the tangled dirtiness of his fur.
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