The Storm Within

by Sue Peters

  "Lie still," she commanded. "You're all bandages."

  "No!" Grimly, Rob struggled up on the pillows, and surveyed her surroundings. "Where ... ?"

  "You're at the Martyr's Arms," Jimmy's mother informed her. "Hal carried you here from the ford."

  Hallam Rand carried her? So it had not been a dream, she had felt someone's arms about her. But she must have dreamed the voice in her ear. It had called her Rob darling. A rush of memory came to her, and her lips drooped.

  Sue Grant, reading the warning signs, and misinterpreting them, got up from the side of the bed.

  "Don't move an inch until I bring you a cup of tea."

  Rob did not want to. For one thing, she felt stiff all over, and she realised as soon as she tried that she could hardly move her one leg. She must indeed be all bandages, as Sue said. A quick investigation confirmed her hostess's description; her thigh and leg carried as much lagging as a hot water tank in winter, she told herself disgustedly.

  She said as much when Sue Grant reappeared with the tray of tea, and Jimmy's mother let out a gurgle of appreciation.

  "You sound more like yourself, at any rate."

  "What on earth made me go to sleep on your bed ?"

  "The doctor. You were unconscious when Hal brought you in. The doctor came and patched you up, and gave you a shot to put you out again. And here you are," she finished, handing over a ready stirred cup of tea.

  "How long?" It was hot and very sweet, and Rob grimaced but drank obediently, feeling it clear the clouds in her head.

  "Since this morning. It's about four o'clock now," she was informed.

  Tom Grant popped his head round the door. "I heard voices ?"

  "Come on in. I've tried to make her lie down and take things easy, but with that red hair I should have known better," smiled his wife.

  "I brought some saddle soap for Jimmy," mourned Rob, remembering dearly enough now. "I dropped it in the field."

  "Never mind about the saddle soap," exclaimed Sue. "Fancy thinking of saddle soap at a time like this !"

  "Well, we can always find Jimmy some more saddle soap," came a reassuring voice, and Hallam Rand ducked under the door, and stopped at the foot of the bed.

  Wearily, Rob closed her eyes. Exhausted and bruised, she did not trust her self-control with Hallam so close to her. She did not see Sue Grant signal to her husband, or hear them leave the room, closing the door gently behind them. She only felt the cup taken from her hand, the side of the bed lift and then go down again, and she opened her eyes to find that the vet had taken Sue's place. She looked away from him, towards the window.

  "It's raining," she noticed listlessly.

  "Yes, the storm has broken at last."

  "I know. It broke while I was in the field. I heard it thunder, and then it went dark."

  "The thunder you heard in the field was Bill Wade's gun going off," said the vet softly, his voice gentle, as it was when he talked to Verity. "It's only been raining for the past hour."

  "How did Mr Wade come to be in the field ?" Rob turned her head to look at him, puzzled. "I sent Jimmy to tell his father," she remembered hazily.

  "It's a good job you did," said the vet fervently, his face losing colour at the memory. "The lad came tearing into the Martyr's Arms just as Bill and I decided to drop in for a drink before we went home. We'd been into Barhill together," he explained. "By a wonderful coincidence, Bill had had his gun rebored at the smith's, and he collected it this morning. He stocked up with cartridges while he was there, and brought the lot back with him. If he hadn't been such a crack shot, you might not have been here now."

  He swallowed hard, and looked down at her, his face drawn. Rob turned her face back to the window, unable to meet his eyes. Unable to bear his kindness.

  "Well, he did, and I am," she said faintly, then paused, hesitating. "Did he—is the bull . . ?"

  "Dead. And if Lewis Ford can afford to buy another, he won't be allowed to put it in a footpath field any longer. Bill and I went to the Council House to a meeting this morning, and the alteration to the law on that subject has been officially approved and passed," he said with satisfaction.

  "'The Council House? But I thought you went to collect the ring ?"

  The words were out before Rob could stop them. Hallam Rand looked down at her, puzzled.

  "The ring? What ring ?"

  "Verity said she would have her ring today." Rob's whisper was hardly audible.

  "So I believe." The vet smiled, and his grey eyes never left her face. "But Martin Bradley wouldn't

  thank me for collecting the ring for him," he added drily.

  "Martin Bradley? But I thought.. . ."

  "I don't know what you thought, but I can imagine what Martin and Verity would think if I butted in on their engagement," chuckled the vet, his eyes merry. "By the way, they're keeping their celebration party back for another week until you feel fit enough to go. We can go together," he told her, with evident satisfaction.

  Careless of the pain, Rob lifted herself high on her pillows, her eyes bright.

  "Here, let me give you a hand."

  Gently the vet put his arms about her and lifted her into an easier position. He shuffled himself into a more comfortable position against the head of the bed, and gently pressed her back against him, supporting her against his shoulder. The door opened and Jimmy peeped in, but Hallam did not move, but continued to hold her gently to him, his arms clasped close about her.

  "Are you all right ?" the child asked breathlessly.

  Rob held out her hand to him and smiled, relieved that he seemed none the worse for his recent terrifying experience.

  "I'm afraid I lost the saddle soap in the field, Jimmy."

  "Oh, that won't matter now, Miss Fenton." Jimmy was philosophical. "Wasn't it marvellous the way Red came to the rescue, Mr Rand? He must be fond of her."

  "Yes, Jimmy, very fond of her," smiled the vet, "and so am I. Now that you've seen that Miss Fenton's not at death's door you'd better go and let Sam know, hadn't you ?"

  The child grinned broadly and disappeared, his footsteps clattering downstairs, and Rob looked up at Hallam Rand, aghast.

  "You're very fond of me?"

  His arms tightened cautiously about her. "I love you, Rob. I think I have done ever since I pulled you up the bank of the millstream, when you first came to Mill House," he confessed quietly. "I felt so afraid for you that day."

  "Oh, Hal !"

  Her hands slid along the covers, seeking his. His long, brown fingers found them, curled round them protectively, dark against the white sheet. Rob looked up, and saw in his face the same question that she had seen there before, and had not understood until now. Her lovely, tawny gaze sought his, found and held it until the question in his eyes disappeared, and was replaced by a joyous certainty as she let her head drop back contentedly against his shoulder and relaxed at last, safe in the shelter of his encircling arms.

  "After all," he murmured softly, after a pause—a long pause—"if you're going to make a habit of getting into scrapes with young Jimmy, someone will have to be around to bale you out of them. And I seem to have made a habit of it."

  Rob stirred and looked up at him again, her eyes

  tracing the wavy outline of his dark head against the light bedroom wall.

  "You promised me a ride in your Lancia," she reminded him dreamily.

  "I know." Hallam smiled down at her, his eyes full of tenderness. "I thought we, would use it for our honeymoon?