by Lucy Gillen
She quickly dropped both hands when she heard footsteps on the cobbled yard outside and seconds later a tall shadow fell across the opening. The shadow became suddenly and curiously still when she was seen and, feeling quite ridiculously guilty, Melodie looked at the newcomer with wide, uncertain eyes.
‘Miss Carne.’
‘Good morning, Mr McDowell—I hope it’s all right my being here. You did say
`Yes, of course it’s all right.’
He was taken as much by surprise as she had been herself, she thought, and she was aware that his eyes were registering every inch of her slim rounded figure in slacks and a short-sleeved blouse. As always happened his scrutiny made her inexplicably nervous and she once more felt a flick of annoyance for her own reaction, though there seemed nothing she could do about it.
Turning back to the gelding, she rubbed the soft nose while she tried to keep her voice as light and matter-of-fact as possible. ‘I found the saddle and the rest of
the gear in the stall—I hope it’s all right for me to use it.’ He nodded without speaking, and she hurried on. ‘And is it O.K. if I take the chestnut?’
‘Yes, of course. The only one I wouldn’t let you take is Black Knight, he’s too dangerous for a woman to handle.’
‘Yes—I remember you told me.’ Once more she gave her attention to the chestnut rather than look at him. ‘This fellow seems rather sweet and docile.’
His name’s Rusty.’
She patted the rough chestnut coat and smiled. ‘It suits him. I’m so badly out of practice that I don’t want anything too lively, and he’ll suit me fine.’
‘You’ll find him quiet enough,’ Neil McDowell agreed, and looked at her thoughtfully for a second before he added, ‘but if you’re very much out of practice maybe it would be better if you rode out with me for a wee while, until you get the feel of riding again—we’d not want you being thrown or falling off.’
Melodic was still staring at him over her shoulder. The invitation had taken her so by surprise that for a moment she made no response. When she came to find herself a mount she had not expected to see him at all. She had been quite certain that by now he would be out somewhere on the estate, making that tour of inspection he had mentioned, and that he would be gone for most of the morning. His sudden appearance threw her rather off balance, the more so because he had suggested they ride together with the apparent intention of seeing that she came to no harm. She was unsure at the moment just what her reaction was, and she looked up at him and smiled a little uncertainly.
‘Are—are you sure I won’t hinder you?’ she asked,
and added hastily, ‘You did say that you rode around the estate as part of your job, and I don’t want to take up your time if you’re busy.’
The disconcerting steadiness of the grey eyes was something she was beginning to expect, and his mouth twitched into a half smile as he walked past and turned into the neighbouring stall. ‘You’ll not hinder me, Miss Carne. I’m not just setting out on my daily inspection, I did that some time ago! I merely returned to the house for a few minutes, that’s all.’
‘Oh, I see.’
When he emerged a few seconds later he was leading the black stallion, his glossy coat gleaming, already saddled and anxious to be off again. For a moment Neil stood stroking the animal’s nose while he regarded her in that same steady way as she stood in the dimly lit stall. ‘If it’s simply that you’d rather not ride with me, you’ve only to say so,’ he told her quietly.
‘Oh, that’s silly!’ The flush in her cheeks annoyed her, because it was so seldom that she blushed, and yet Neil McDowell seemed to have the ability to get under her skin in a way she could not understand. ‘I’d like to ride with you,’ she went on, keeping her voice coolly matter-of-fact with a determined effort. ‘I just don’t want to hinder you, that’s all.’
He said nothing, but turned to tighten the stallion’s girth, then led both animals out into the yard; dropping the rein for a moment while he helped her to mount. She thanked him, more demurely than she would have believed possible, and he swung himself up with the same easy grace she had noticed before. Everything about him was firm and confident, and he was undoubtedly an excellent horseman, so that she feared her own prowess would fall far short; however, if he was
prepared to make allowances, then the ride could prove quite enjoyable.
‘Did you have anywhere special in mind to go?’ he asked as she clucked the chestnut gelding into motion, and Melodie shook her head.
‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘Though I had thought of riding over to take a closer look at the river I’ve seen from a distance. Would that be possible, do you think?’
‘Of course!’ They had left the yard and the anvil sound of the horses’ shoes on the cobbled yard gave way to the softer, sound-deadening turf. Turning, Neil looked over his shoulder and once more that suggestion of a smile touched his mouth for a moment and warmed the sober grey eyes. ‘We’ll take the long way down, it’s a better ride.’
‘Whatever you say.’
There was no point in presuming to suggest a route, for he knew every inch of Ben Ross, better than any man alive, and she was in no special hurry, for all it looked very much as if there would be a storm before too long. As if he was thinking along the same lines Neil too looked up at the gathering clouds as they rode down a gentle slope towards open moorland.
‘You’ll not mind getting wet?’ he suggested. Briefly his eyes scanned her fawn denim trousers and the thin cotton blouse that in the event of a storm would offer very little protection. ‘You should mebbe have worn a jacket.’
The storm seemed to be hovering only a few feet above their heads, dark and heavy, and already the wind stirred restlessly beneath it. Melodie pulled a rueful face, shaking her head. ‘I should have done,’ she agreed, ‘but it’s too late to worry about it now, and I don’t suppose a drop of rain will hurt me.’
‘You’ll see yourself as a tough woman, hmm?’
He did not mean it seriously, she felt sure, and she smiled in response to the suggestion. ‘Not really,’ she demurred, ‘but I’ve been rained on before’
He said nothing, but gave his attention to keeping the black at the same speed as her own mount and made it look much easier than it was. He looked at ease and relaxed as they rode across the open moorland; a man in love with the country he belonged to. It was a country to inspire devotion too, Melodie thought, for it was breathtaking in its splendour, and beautiful rather than pretty—a rugged country, made for men like Neil McDowell.
Huge grey boulders thrust their way through springy turf and dark shaggy heather, adding to the air of rugged grandeur, and the sound of the river gabbled through the still air even before they could see it properly. The scowling clouds seemed to magnify every sound, cutting off the tops of the hills and turning the landscape into a mass of shifting shadows that flitted darkly among the rocks.
‘It’s magnificent!’
Neil turned his head when she breathed the words almost involuntarily, and she could feel the intensity of his feeling for the place—a kind of electric excitement charged by the nearness of the storm. ‘Aye,’ he said with deceptive quietness, ‘it’s magnificent.’
‘And it’s yours! ‘
She looked across at him, the gelding having for the moment drawn dead level with his faster companion, and she saw the unconscious lift of Neil’s chin and the look that passed across his lean features suddenly. ‘Not yet,’ he said in the same quiet voice. ‘Not quite yet, but soon.’
They approached the river more slowly, and Melodie could see how fast it flowed over its stony bed. Frothing and sparkling, it raced around the outcrops that pierced its surface and it seemed deep even quite near to the banks; louder now, too, and competing with the encroaching thunder. They rode almost to the very edge before she dismounted, aware that Neil had followed suit, and drawn to the brink by the hypnotic fascination of swiftly flowing water.
‘Take care! ‘<
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A hand on her arm brought her round swiftly, her eyes still vague and bemused, and her pulse responded rapidly to the soft quietness of the warning voice. ‘Yes. Yes, of course, it’s very deep, isn’t it?’
‘And fast—you’d have no chance at all among those rocks if you fell in.’
With the idea of moving to a safer distance, Melodie gave a light pull on the rein to persuade the gelding to turn, but either he misunderstood her intention or the liveliness of the water made him frisky. Instead of turning so that she could lead him to a safer distance, he tossed his head and gave a whinny of protest, then nudged her nearer to the edge of the bank.
The stones at the very edge of the water were wedged only into sandy soil, and when her weight was put on them suddenly it was inevitable that they gave way under her. She was never quite sure exactly what happened, but one minute she seemed to be stepping back into empty space, and the next she was pulled hard against the reassuring solidity of a masculine body, with a hard left arm tight about her waist.
She made no sound, for surprise had followed surprise so rapidly that she had no time to cry out, and neither did she offer any kind of resistance to the arm
that held her so tightly. The thudding beat of her heart almost deafened her to even the noise of the water, and for a second or two she pressed her face to the softness of a cotton shirt and the warmth of the body beneath it, letting relief envelop her as well as other reactions she made no pretence of understanding.
‘I warned you to take care, did I not?’
The quiet voice was muffled and it took her a moment to realise that it was because his face was buried in the softness of her hair. The black stallion, his rein trailing, tossed his head at the rumble of thunder and snorted impatiently, followed closely by a whinny of protest from the gelding when a vivid flash split the overhead blackness.
Two hands curled their strong brown fingers around her soft upper arms and held her away while still keeping a light tenuous contact between her own rounded shape and the firm hardness of Neil’s body, and she raised her head at last. There were fine lines from the corners of the grey eyes, she noticed as she tipped back her head, and a suggestion of tension in the straight firm mouth so close to her own, an urgency in the lean brown features that brought a sudden and unexpected shiver.
She was trembling and she could do nothing to stop it, her emotions shattered by surprise and uncertainty, and in that moment it began to rain. Huge splashes hit the dry ground and made dark patches on the rocks, and the storm was right overhead suddenly—jagged flashes overtaken by rolling thunder.
The mouth that took hers was fierce and hard, almost savage in its demands, and she was so stunned by its savagery that she never even thought to offer resistance, but yielded her mouth and the soft curves of her body
to his steely hardness. His arms were inescapable and in a half conscious, dazed way she was aware of not wanting to escape, although her heart was beating so urgently that her head was dizzy with it.
She did not even realise the storm had overtaken them until Neil released her at last and she saw how the rain had darkened his fair hair and gave his skin a golden glowing look, like burnished bronze. Her own hair clung wetly to her head and the thin blouse she wore was no protection from the downpour but moulded to her like a second skin as she slipped out of the arms that let her go more easily than she anticipated and left her exposed to the full force of the deluge.
The surface of the river frothed and spumed with even more fury as it was lashed by the downpour and the noise of the storm with that of the river made such a cacophony that it was impossible to speak above it. By signs Neil indicated that he would help her to mount and she hastily brought herself back to earth when she realised the moment was ended that had brought them close for those few seconds of excitement. She nodded silently, but her heart was still racing when she sat in the saddle again, and she flung back her wet hair in a gesture that was vaguely defiant.
‘Let’s go!’
He put his heels to the stallion and the animal took off like a streak of shiny black jet, thundering across the wet turf like the wind and leaving the slower gelding behind. Melodie used her heels, but to less effect; the beast was slower and less spirited and she knew he could never hope to catch the stallion, no matter how he tried.
Resigned to following, she rode with her head down,
her heart rebelling against being deserted so soon after those few moments of fierce passion, and she felt more wildly angry with Neil McDowell for leaving her than she would have believed possible. Resentment, confusion, anger—all played a part in the seething emotions that kept her taut and stiff in the saddle as she rode before the storm.
‘Come on
The first indication she had that Neil had come back for her was his voice as he came up beside her, the sound of it almost drowned by the roar of the storm, and blown away on the wind. He took hold of the gelding’s rein and brought the two animals close together, the black stallion running level, held back by the slower speed of his stablemate and resenting it.
‘I can manage!’
His coming back should not have surprised her, but she was not thinking very rationally at the moment. She still resented his action no matter if it was an oversight and understandable in the circumstances. Neil let go the rein but kept the stallion to the same pace as the gelding, and both riders kept their faces forward, not once looking at one another until they rode into the yard.
Their hooves clattering on the wet cobbles, the horses galloped into the yard and, even before Neil had dismounted, the back door of the house opened and Jessie McKay’s short, stern figure stood there. Taking the rein from Melodie’s hands, Neil indicated the open door with a nod of his head.
‘Get away in and take off those wet clothes,’ he ordered brusquely. ‘I’ll see to the animals.’
‘But you—’
Her protest was instinctive and he cut it short impatiently, his normally quiet voice a note or two higher than usual ‘Go, woman, and make yourself dry before you catch your death! Jessie ‘ll find you something to change into—now, away in with you!’
Only once before had Melodie been inside Ben Ross, and Jessie McKay looked no more welcoming on this occasion than she had the first time. She held the door open wider and stood back, but her eyes were on Neil while he led the two horses into the stable, and it was clear that she at least considered the job of rubbing down and stabling should have been shared.
Melodie looked at the round austere face and wondered if it ever smiled, or if the shrewd brown eyes ever showed a glimmer of warmth. She looked a woman who judged the world a harsh place and an unjust one, though it was clear in the few times Melodie had seen her near Neil McDowell that she had not only a high regard for her employer but a quite deep and genuine affection too.
Melodie let the wetness drip on to the floor of the passage rather than shake it off as she followed the housekeeper through from the back of the house to the hall and the stairs. ‘Mr McDowell said you’d be able to find me something to change into,’ she ventured. ‘I’m afraid I’m very wet.’
‘I’ll show you upstairs, there’s a robe of Mr McDowell’s you could borrow until your own things are dry.’
She made it clear that she complied only with reluctance and because she had more or less been instructed to provide temporary replacements. She would have liked it a lot better if Neil had not still been out there dealing with the horses while the stranger was already on her way to drying off.
The house was evidently much bigger than Melodie had thought and very grand in its manner too. Like that wonderful hall she had first seen, the upstairs suggested the traditional stately home and the landing was dark-panelled too, with any number of doors opening off, presumably into bedrooms.
The place was huge, far too big for one man and an old housekeeper, and Melodie once more speculated on the lonely existence of Neil McDowell. He would surely be much better off and far less grim i
f he married and had a family. It was the sudden recollection of that fierce hard kiss and the strength of his arms around her that made her pull herself up hastily and put such thoughts out of her head. It was purely speculation on her part—maybe he was neither as lonely nor as solitary as she supposed.
The bedroom she was shown into was exactly what she would have expected from what she had seen of the house so far. Half-panelled in dark oak, it had a high ceiling and tall windows against which the rain hissed and rattled in its fury. Thick carpet deadened her footsteps and there was a big four-poster bed on one wall with a yellow silk cover that gave an added touch of luxury.
It was a beautiful room, though it gave the uncomfortable feeling of not having been slept in for a very long time, and she shivered involuntarily as the rain continued to beat at the window, like someone tapping. Jessie McKay said nothing, but withdrew at once, presumably to find the robe she had promised to provide, and Melodie took the opportunity to look around her. It was the kind of room that suggested secret panels and family ghosts, but she had scarcely
time to indulge in a small shudder at her own fancies before the housekeeper returned.
The promised robe turned out to be a big red dressing-gown of thick towelling, the type that fastens with a sash at the waist, and she took it with the thought that it would probably smother her, but at least it would serve to preserve her modesty while she was wearing nothing else.
‘If you bring your wet things down with you when you come, I’ll see to drying them for you,’ Mrs McKay told her, and Melodie smiled, hopefully trying to establish a less unfriendly atmosphere, though not with much optimism.
‘I just hope I’m able to find my way back,’ she said, with a rather unsteady little laugh. ‘It seems like a very big house and there are so many doors.’
Her laughter inspired no more than a brief lift of one sparse grey brow, and Melodie suspected Mrs McKay was virtually without a sense of humour at all. ‘You’ll not go far wrong if you turn right when you leave this room and walk along to the top of the stairs,’ she told her. ‘From there it’ll not be possible for you to lose yourself.’