Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover

by Rachel Lindsay

  "I know that," he said impatiently. "But I'll take my chance as long as you're still fancy-free."

  "You're wasting your time, Robert.''

  "Let me be the judge of that. You're the loveliest girl I've ever met—apart from being beautiful, witty, clever and-"

  "Stop it! You're acting like a fool. I'm an ordinary girl. Nothing more, nothing less. If you'd met me in London you wouldn't have looked at me twice. But up here there's no competition, so I seem better than I am!"

  "When you've quite finished maligning yourself," he replied, "maybe we can talk sense."

  "That's what I'm trying to do, but you won't listen to me.

  "Not if you keep ranting on about my not seeing you. I love being with you, Laura, and I'd love you if we lived in Eddlestone or Hollywood!"

  "At least in Hollywood you'd have a choice of other lovelies!"

  "Meaning I fell for you because there was no one else?"

  "Yes."

  "What about Elaine Simpson? Isn't she lovely enough?"

  Laura swallowed. "What has she got to do with it?"

  "Merely that I knew her long before I met you. We were at college together and I dated her a couple of times… and some of her friends." Robert rubbed his hand over his hair. The gesture made the quiff of hair above his forehead stand up even more and made him look younger. "I wasn't as bereft of female charm as you seem to think. I'm not saying I could rival Casanova, but I wasn't a monk, either!"

  "So it would appear," Laura murmured. "Perhaps I'm the one who needs protecting after all!"

  "I wish you meant that. I'd rather you were scared of me than look on me as some tame dog!"

  "What a thing to say!"

  "But it's true. Good old Robert. That's how you think of me, isn't it?"

  "If I did, then I don't anymore! From now on you're a wolfhound—with fangs!"

  "Thanks!"

  He reached for her hand-and she let him retain it. They were taking their usual Saturday afternoon stroll over the moors^and for a while they walked in silence. But his remark about being at college with Elaine Simpson remained in her mind, tormenting her until she was forced to speak. "Is she as clever as she's pretty?"

  "Who?"

  Laura blushed. Elaine Simpson was so real to her that she had made the mistake of thinking Robert would know whom she meant. "The girl we… the one we saw with Jake Andrews," she said, hoping her voice sounded as offhand as she intended it to be.

  "Depends what you mean by clever," Robert replied. "She knows what's good for her. But if you mean academically, then it's hard for me to say. She left college after a couple of terms and went to the States. She's only been home a few months."

  Laura kept her head averted. "So she hasn't known the boss man all that long?"

  "Only since she got back. They might have met in the past but I doubt it. Our Jake was too busy furthering his career to bother with women."

  "He couldn't further it better than with the daughter of Harold Simpson."

  "You've said that before," Robert frowned, "but I think you're wrong. I doubt if he'd go for a girl simply because she could help him career-wise."

  "I don't see why not." Laura remained stubborn. "He's very ambitious, and what could be better than marrying into one of the top engineering companies in the country!"

  "When you put it like that, I suppose you're right." Robert still seemed dubious and Laura knew he did not mean what he said. She was annoyed, yet at the same time irrationally pleased that he did not think Jake so mercenary.

  "Let's head for home," she murmured, anxious to change the subject. "I'm cold."

  "You'll be colder still tomorrow. The weather report says we're in for snow."

  "Then we might have a white Christmas." She bit back a sigh. "Though heaven knows what Christmas will be like in Eddlestone."

  "As much fun as you want to make it," Robert said with unexpected force. "I don't intend to let you mope around the house."

  "I'll probably have a load of cooking to do. I'm sure Tim will be home for it."

  "That won't tie you down, will it? Elaine's invited me to a party and I'd like you to come with me.''

  Laura stopped in her tracks. "I wouldn't dream of going to her party. I've never met the girl."

  "So what? I told her I wanted to bring a friend."

  "No. Anyway, I wouldn't want to leave my father alone."

  "That's just an excuse. You know darn well he doesn't want you baby-sitting him."

  She was forced to agree and knew that her argument against going to the party had been weak. "Let's talk about it nearer the time," she suggested. "Christmas is still three weeks away."

  "You're coming to the party," he insisted. "So don't waste your time trying to dream up an excuse; otherwise I'll begin to think you're jealous of Elaine."

  Laura caught her breath. "Why on earth should I be jealous of her?"

  "You tell me."

  "Of course I'm not jealous. I've never heard of such a thing!"

  "Then you'll come with me?"

  "That's blackmail," she said crossly, and then forced herself to smile. "Very well, you win."

  With the approach of Christmas even Eddlestone's dreary shops took on a more festive air, and Laura found that, unlike London, goodwill to all men was more than mere lip service. The local greengrocer surprised her by offering to get her any special vegetables she wanted. He gave her a list of what he glumly called "foreign stuff." and asked her to mark off the provisions she wanted him to order.

  "Now you've settled here," he explained, "it's bad business to have you shop in Manchester for what you want. No reason we can't get it for you. Happen you'll encourage other folk to be a bit more venturesome in their cooking, too."

  "I'd like to do that," she said promptly, "but I don't see how I can."

  "Sell some of your special recipes at the local bazaars."

  "What a good idea." She thought for a moment. "If I make something that tastes particularly nice, perhaps you wouldn't mind my bringing some for your wife to I taste?"

  "Aye," he grinned. "She's as good as a bazaar! Talks enough for ten women, anyway!"

  Laura laughed and the man grinned, their shared humor cementing their new relationship.

  Even Nell Rampton decided to forget her huffiness and she appeared in Laura's kitchen one Saturday morning with a cake in her hand.

  "Your father liked it when I first baked one for him," she explained, "and as I made a double mixture this time, I thought I'd best share it with you, rather than have it grow stale."

  "It smells delicious," Laura said truthfully. "I'll make some coffee to go with it. Or would you prefer tea?"

  "Tea, o' course," the woman said stoutly. "Can't let Yorkshire down by saying I prefer coffee!"

  "I won't tell anyone," Laura smiled. "Then coffee it shall be!"

  Coming in for lunch earlier than expected, John Winters surprised the two women together in the kitchen and looked so delighted that Laura felt a pang of conscience. How deeply her father wanted her to feel at home here, and how her attitude must have hurt him. If only she could settle down properly in Eddlestone and make it her life. Yet this could never be, for her heart still hankered for a more cosmopolitan life.

  "Home is where the heart is," her father exclaimed when she tried to tell him something of what she felt. "If you fell in love with someone who lived here, you'd be more than happy to make Eddlestone your home."

  "Well, don't suggest Robert,"she warned.

  "I'm not suggesting anyone. That would be the best way of turning you against them!"

  She gave her father a searching look and though he met it with a bland one, she knew he had been teasing her.

  "I suppose you think I'm an exceptionally obstinate female?"

  "No more than most." Before she could answer this, he changed the subject, and she decided not to bring it up again.

  Laura's hopes that Tim would spend the Christmas weekend with them were dashed when he arrived on the Frida
y night and said he would be leaving on Saturday.

  "But that's hardly any time at all!" she protested.

  "I'm here for Christmas lunch. Have a heart, Laura. What can a fellow do in a dead-and-alive hole like this?"

  "Spend a quiet few days with his family," she murmured. "It would at least make a change! It's ages since you've been here."

  "I've been busy working." Her look was so disbelieving that he reddened. "Well, not working all the time," he admitted, "but usually finishing so late that I couldn't face the journey to get here."

  "That's why I was hoping you'd at least stay for the whole weekend."

  "I'll come over next weekend," he said.

  "That's New Year's Eve,"she reminded him.

  He pulled a face. "I'd forgotten. Well, the weekend after, then. How will that suit you?"

  "Fine." She turned away, knowing that to show further resentment would only lead to another argument.

  Tim had to be taken on his own terms or not at all; and she well knew what those terms were. Yet despite his faults she loved him enough to overlook them; loved him too much, perhaps, for he had used her devotion many times to get him out of scrapes and would undoubtedly do so again.

  "Don't be angry with me," he pleaded. "You can't blame me for wanting a bit of fun."

  "I was going to suggest you come along to a party with Robert and me."

  Tim gave an elaborate shiver. "Spare me from the night life of Eddlestone! Besides, it inhibits a chap to go to a party with his sister."

  "You're not too inhibited to ask me for help when you need it," she could not help saying.

  "You'd be angry if I didn't come to you. At least this way you're always the first to know when I'm in trouble!"

  "Am I?" Here was the opportunity she had wanted, and she took it quickly, lest the moment slip away. "Then perhaps you'll tell me why you left Grantley's and came up North? And don't fob me off by saying you wanted to work where you weren't known as dad's son."

  "But it's the truth. I was fed up being under dad's- eye."

  "I don't believe you. Be honest with me. Did you do anything wrong?"

  "Yes, I did. I stole the Crown Jewels! "The face so like her own was suffused with angry color. "Honestly, Laura, if you keep on nagging at me I won't bother coming home at all!"

  " I don't mean to pry,'' she began. "Then don't. And stop telling me how good you are to me. It's becoming a bore."

  She turned away to hide her hurt. How sneering Tim could be, how forgetful of the innumerable times she had helped him—often at great expense and trouble. "I'm sorry, Laura." Unexpectedly she felt his hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean all that rot I just spouted. I'm a bit on edge today. Overwork, I think. But you know I wouldn't hurt you for the world."

  She swung around to look at him, touched by his unusual display of emotion. "I'm sorry, Tim. I had no right to question you like that—or to tell you what a good sister I am."

  "You've every right," he replied staunchly. "You're a wonderful sister and I know it. There was a particular reason-that I left Grantley's but I don't want to talk about it yet. One day I 'll tell you the whole story."

  "That's all right,"she said quickly. "Whenever you're ready."

  Immediately after lunch on Christmas Day Tim drove off on his motorbike, promising to come home for a long weekend early in January. Laura watched from the gate until she could no longer see the smoke from his exhaust; then, vaguely uneasy, she returned to the sitting room where her father was watching television.

  The gray, snow-filled skies that cast their pallid glow over the deserted streets did not have the strength to illumine the sitting room; thus the light came from a standard lamp that shed gentle rays over the silver gray hair of the man. Seen in this light, John Winters looked almost as carefree as he had before his wife's tragic death, reminding Laura forcibly that her father was only fifty-five, with many years ahead of him. Tragic to think he would have to spend them alone.

  Moving forward, she rested against his chair and put her hand on his cheek. "I'll call Robert and tell him I don't want to go to the Simpsons' party. I don't feel in the mood."

  "You'd have been quite happy to have gone if Tim had stayed here."

  "That's different."

  "Why?"

  "Tim likes parties."

  "Don't you?"

  "Not this one. I don't even know the girl who's giving it!"

  "I didn't think that mattered these days!"

  "It does to me. I hate gate-crashing."

  "I'd hardly call it that. After all, you're going as Robert's guest."

  "I'd rather stay here. We have masses of cold turkey and I can make a salad and—"

  "I want you to go, Laura. I'd like you to tell me what you think of Harold Simpson. If you get the chance of meeting him, that is."

  "Curious about Grantley's rival? "she teased.

  "Curious about an old friend," her father corrected. "I went to school with him. And technical college, too."

  "You never told me that before. Fancy keeping it a secret."

  "It was no secret. But we lost touch when I moved down to London."

  "And you didn't contact him again? Honestly, dad—" she could not hide her rueful humor "—if you'd worked for him instead of Grantley's, you might have been on the board by now."

  "Or scrubbing the floors! Harold wasn't the easiest chap in the world to get on with even when he was poor. Lord knows what he's like now he's made millions."

  "Probably charming. He can afford to be!"

  "Well, go along tonight and find out. I must admit I'm curious."

  "Why haven't you called him since you've been here? He'd at least know you weren't looking for a job now."

  Her father's only reply was a mumble that meant nothing. Not that he needed to put his answer into words; it was obvious his reluctance stemmed from a fear of being thought sycophantic.

  "Well, you've certainly given me a reason for going to the party," she said aloud. "Though if Harold Simpson is anything like his daughter, I'll make sure you steer clear of him!"

  A look of surprise crossed John Winters's face. "I'd forgotten he had a daughter. I thought Beth was giving the party."

  "Beth?"

  "His sister."

  "Hardly a girl," Laura murmured.

  "She can't be more than forty. Though I suppose that's old to you!"

  "Not anymore. Now that I'm in my twenties, forty seems younger every day!" Laura perched beside her father. "How come she still lives with her brother?"

  "Because she isn't married."

  "So you have kept in touch with the family!"

  He looked sheepish. "Only the bit of gossip I hear through Nell Rampton. Seems Beth is very popular around here. The money doesn't appear to have made much difference to her. She has a full-time job and still uses a bike instead of a car."

  "Not like her niece, then. She drives an Alfa Romeo!"

  "I thought you said you didn't know her?"

  "I don't. But I caught a glimpse of her when Robert and I were in Manchester a few weeks ago. She was with Mr. Andrews."

  "With Jake?" Gray eyebrows rose. "How old would she be?"

  "About my age."

  "Good-looking?"

  "What do you expect me to say?" Laura smiled.

  "The truth, of course. There's no reason for you to be biased, is there?"

  "Of course not," she said hastily, then rushed on. "She's pretty and very glamorous. Long blond hair and very slim… you know the type!"

  "Aye. Sexy."

  The word brought Jake vividly to mind and Laura moved restlessly around the room.

  "Fancy Jake going 'round with Harold's lass," John Winters said half to himself. "Harold could just do with a man of Jake's knowledge."

  "I should have thought the boot was on the other foot."

  "Jake doesn't need anyone to help him. Grantley's has already offered him a directorship. That was why they called him down to London a couple of months ago. It'll be an
nounced officially in January."

  "Local lad makes good,"she muttered.

  "Very much so." Her father took her words at face value. "And he'll go higher still. Mark my words, lass. Jake will end up chairman before he's forty.''

  Feeling she had endured the conversation long enough, she moved to the door. "If I'm going to the party, I'd better set my hair."

  "You're pretty enough."

  "You're biased!"

  Upstairs in her room, she contemplated her clothes and wished she had asked Robert to find out exactly what sort of party it was. To arrive in evening dress and then find everyone else in pants and sweaters was a nightmare she had no wish to participate in. Going down to the hall, she dialed Robert's phone number, bracing herself for a tedious chat with his mother, who made no secret of the fact that she wanted Laura as a daughter-in-law.

  Luckily Robert himself answered the phone, his voice warming with pleasure as he heard her. "I was just looking at my watch and wondering how to pass the time till I had to call for you," he said.

  "You can come over whenever you like. Tim had to go back and dad cotild do with a bit of cheering up.''

  "What about you?"

  "I'm in the middle of changing. Which is why I called. I want to know what to wear."

  "As little as possible!"

  "Be serious, Robert. Is it a dressy party or casual?''

  "Dressed-up casual!"

  "Mayfair hippies," she sighed.

  "On the nail, my pet." His voice lowered. "What are you wearing now?"

  "A flowered apron and curlers!" She giggled. "In a few more years you 'll end up a dirty old man."

  "It's more fun being a dirty young one!"

  "Goodbye," she said firmly. "I'll see you later."

  She was still dressing when she heard him arrive and, listening to her father greet him, was again assailed by conscience. If only she could get out of the invitation. Not only did she dislike leaving her father alone on Christmas night, but she also disliked the thought of meeting Jake Andrews socially.

  With a sigh she went downstairs, her ruffled mood slightly smoothed by the look of admiration on the faces of the two men as they saw her.

  "Will I pass?" she asked.