love Nick and I love Jo. And they love each other.”
“Did she tell you what she looked like in the past?” Judy asked suddenly.
He shook his head. “No need. I can see her clearly in my mind as she was.” With a sigh he walked to the wall and began to turn off the lights one by one.
“I wonder if Nick can too.” Her voice was very husky.
Tim picked up the champagne bottle. “I wonder,” he echoed.
“She was very beautiful, Matilda de Braose,” Judy said as she held out her glass.
Tim filled it until it overflowed onto the floor and slopped over her shoes. “The most beautiful woman in the world,” he agreed unsteadily. “The most beautiful woman in the world!”
Nick was reading the papers at a small round table at the open French windows of the pub dining room when Jo came down for breakfast. She was wearing jeans again, with a loose white silk blouse.
He stood up as she appeared. “Coffee is on its way. How did you sleep?”
“Not too well. And you?” She surveyed him cautiously as she slipped into the chair opposite him.
Nick grinned. “It was very hot up in that attic.” He grinned suddenly with something like his old humor as behind them the door opened and Dai Vaughan appeared with a tray of coffee and cereal and toast. He slid it between them onto the table.
“Will you be wanting to stay tonight after all?” he asked Nick as he began to set their places. “Just so that I know. The room is empty if you want it.”
Nick shook his head slowly. “I have to go back to London,” he said.
Jo glanced at him sharply. “Do you have to go this morning?” she said in spite of herself.
He nodded. “I think it would be best, don’t you?”
“I suppose so.” The magnetism between them was still as strong as ever. She longed to reach across the table and touch him. But somehow she resisted.
“Perhaps-” Nick hesitated. “Perhaps I could stay until this afternoon, then we could go for a drive or something? I’d like to see a little of this Wales of yours before I leave.” He held his breath, waiting for her response.
Dai Vaughan straightened as he set the coffeepot in front of Jo. “Now there’s an idea,” he said cheerfully. “Why don’t I put up a picnic for the both of you. It’ll stay fine awhile yet, with luck!” He squinted out of the window. “Where would you like to go? I can lend you a map. Llangorse Lake? The waterfalls? Castles? Or why not go up to the mountains by here-Castel Dinas perhaps. There’s a fine view and lovely country, and it’s not too far.”
Jo frowned. She had been watching Nick’s face. “I don’t want to go anywhere that might remind me,” she said quietly. “Not today. I can’t cope with that. Castles make me nervous.”
Dai laughed. “Oh, it’s not a castle like Bronllys or Hay. It’s an earthwork, see. Celtic, I think it is.” He picked up the tray. “Will you be leaving this afternoon too, Miss Clifford?”
Jo nodded.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming back to London?” He tried to keep the triumph out of his voice.
She watched Dai Vaughan until he was out of the room. “No. I’m going back to Hay.”
“You’re continuing with your research, then?”
She rested her chin on her hands. “I’ve got to, Nick. I told you, I can’t let it go. Not yet.”
He scowled. “But you will let it go today?”
She nodded. “I’d like that. Let’s go and see this Castel Dinas. I doubt if the de Braoses were into archaeology.” She smiled at him suddenly, the wariness lifting from her face. “Truce for today, Nick?”
“Truce.” He leaned forward and put his hand on hers.
A haze had formed over the mountaintops as they parked the Porsche in a narrow lane and climbed out. Nick was holding the ordnance survey map in his hand. “I don’t think there’s much point in taking the food with us,” he said. “It may be nice now, but the weather’s closing in fast. Do you still want to go up there?”
She nodded, staring up at the gaunt shoulders of the Black Mountains rising above them, clear and sharply defined in the brilliant sunlight, save where wisps of cloud and mist touched them and drifted down into the folded cwms.
Nick shuddered. “God, what a lonely place! That must be”-he glanced down at the map-“Waun Fach. Heaven knows how it’s pronounced!”
“It’s beautiful.” Jo was staring around her. “Quite beautiful. Smell that air. Hundreds of miles of grass and wild thyme and bilberries-and just look at the hedges down here. Honeysuckle, dog roses, chamomile, foxgloves-and a thousand flowers I don’t even know the name of…
After dropping his map on the car hood, he had put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her to him, feeling the warmth of her flesh beneath the thin silk of her shirt as he folded his arms around her and pressed her against him, his mouth nuzzling into her hair. Jo closed her eyes. For a moment she stood still, feeling the tide of longing rising in her as she clung to him, overwhelmed with happiness suddenly, her doubts dissolving as she raised her mouth to his for a long passionate kiss, her hands automatically reaching for the buttons of his shirt, slipping inside to caress his chest.
With a smile she drew back a little and looked up at him at last.
Then she froze. The face of the man who stood staring down at her did not belong to Nick. Her stomach turned over in icy shock as recognition hit her and she remembered the blue eyes, the arrogant brow, the imperious touch, and her own body’s helpless response as this man had drawn her, long ago, against his hard body.
“No!” Jo’s eyes were dilated with fear as she pulled away from him. “Oh, no! No! Please God, no!”
She tore herself out of his arms and began to run up the lane away from him.
“Jo!” Nick called angrily. “Come back here! What’s the matter?”
But she took no notice. After hurling herself at the gate, she scrambled over it, staring up the steep grass slope in front of her. Far above their heads she could hear the lonely scream of a circling buzzard.
Nick vaulted over behind her. “Jo, wait!”
But she had begun to run, shaking her hair out of her eyes, her heart thumping in her chest as she forced herself as fast as she could up the steep ridged grass with its scattering of sheep droppings.
Nick stood for a moment watching her. His good humor vanished, he made himself take a deep breath, trying to steady the sudden wave of anger that had gripped him. In front of him Jo had stopped again. She turned, gasping for breath, staring down at him from the slope, and he could see the fear in her eyes.
Behind her the mist was drifting down across the mountain. A patch of sunlight dimmed and disappeared. It was becoming oppressively hot again. There was no breath of wind.
Slowly he began to follow her upward.
Jo reached the earthworks first and stood panting, staring around her at the piles of fallen abandoned stones and the ditch and ramparts of the Celtic fortress, high on its hill amid the encircling mountains. The mist was growing thicker. Blind with panic, she whirled as a quiet rumble of thunder echoed round the Wye Valley in the distance.
Nick had stopped several feet from her, breathing heavily from the climb. He was watching her with a strange half smile.
“Don’t run anymore, Jo,” he said quietly. “There’s no point.”
She could feel the blood pounding in her temples as she took a few staggering steps backward, her hands held out in front of her.
She wanted to call out to him. To Nick. Not the other man, to Nick. But the words would not come, trapped ringing in her head by the mist and the silence and by Nick’s strange implacable smile as he began to follow her
