drift.
They began to float through her mind in an unbroken stream, so that the dark moor blended into her first confrontation with Jarvis Larne, barring her way, being thoroughly rude to her-but then he too slipped away and she was in the icy water, struggling from the car to be hauled out of the water by a man who lifted her as if she was a feather. And the hardness of his broad chest had felt good.
None of the men she knew made her feel good. They were focused, self-conscious, measuring every word, dressed in elegant suits. They charmed her and were pleasant company, but there wasn’t one she would have gone to with her problems.
But why should she? She was the fabulously wealthy Meryl Winters, who bought whatever she wanted and had no problems.
After a while she yawned and stretched, thinking how inviting the big four-poster looked. She unhooked the curtains and drew them about the bed, discovering that they did indeed shut out the draughts. Perhaps there was something to be said for medieval life, after all.
But she changed her mind when she climbed onto the medieval mattress, which seemed to be stuffed with medieval turnips.
This must be where they put their guests when they don’t want them to come back, she thought. It would be the first thing to change-if I was going to stay here.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE awoke to semi-darkness. Then she drew back the curtains to reveal a room where the light was fighting to get through the cracks. Bounding out of bed, she pulled back the window curtains and the sun flooded in.
The storm had passed, and before her lay the glory of an English spring morning. Her room faced the land, and there was the causeway, a barely visible ribbon under several feet of water. To her left was a small town with a harbour where several masted boats bobbed on glinting water. Across the causeway she could see the road she’d travelled the night before, leading far inland, back onto green moors, and then further on to where the land rose and became darker.
Entranced, Meryl opened the tall windows and stepped out into the bright morning light. From this little balcony she could look further around her at the sea, which moved gently after the storm of the previous night.
Suddenly she found herself standing totally still, and holding her breath as though she was waiting for something to happen. A peace seemed to settle over her as she listened to the blessed quiet. Not silence, because she could hear the call of sea birds and the soft plash of the waves, but those sounds seemed, mysteriously, to be only a part of the peace. Above her the sky was a deep blue, cloudless, except for a few white puffs.
Like rabbits’ tails, she thought with a smile.
Once the smile started it couldn’t stop, spreading until it took her over completely. She raised her head, closing her eyes to feel the warmth on her face, and taking deep breaths of the freshest air she’d ever known.
She showered in the antiquated bathroom, to a symphony of clanks from the plumbing, and emerged just as Hannah came bustling in with her suit, that had survived its ordeal thanks to skilled care. She also brought a pot of coffee.
‘We normally have tea, but I made coffee for you especially-you being an American.’
Her tone suggested that she was dealing with an alien and exotic species, and Meryl hid a smile.
‘Thank you, Hannah, this coffee is lovely,’ she said after a few sips. This was erring slightly on the side of generosity, but she felt tact would serve her better than candour.
‘When you’re ready come down to breakfast. It’s in the Morning Room, next door but one to the Library, where you were last night.’ She eyed Meryl’s slim figure. ‘You poor soul, you look starved. Never mind. I’ll feed you up.’
Nothing since her arrival had unnerved Meryl quite as much as this threat. It was with some caution that she descended the stairway a few minutes later and made her way to the Morning Room, wondering if Jarvis Larne would greet her with a vat of boiling oil perched on the door.
But nothing happened as she carefully pushed open the door and peered inside. At first she thought the room was empty, but then a voice said,
‘Hello, there? Are you inspecting your domain?’
By the window stood a very slender young man, of medium height. His voice was light and his blue eyes looked as though they laughed a lot. He was regarding Meryl’s entrance quizzically.
‘My domain?’ she asked, regarding him askance.
‘It will be if you become Lady Larne.’
‘What makes you think-?’ Light dawned. ‘Ferdy,’ she said. ‘Ferdy Ashton.’
His impish face brightened. ‘Fame at last.’
She came to stand with him in the window. ‘You’d better get out of here before Lord Larne murders you-or I do. How
‘I had to. Jarvis was being difficult about it.’
‘When I’ve finished with you, you’ll know the meaning of “difficult”.’
He looked hurt. ‘I just wanted to help my friend out of trouble. He needs money badly, and you have it. It’s really very simple.’
‘Except that he and I took an instant dislike to each other. You never thought of that, did you?’
‘I know he’s not an easy man, but I didn’t think you’d just turn up without warning. I was going to manage it carefully so that you’d take to each other.’
‘You’d have to be a magician for that. It was a disaster.’
‘So I’ve heard. Jarvis called me first thing this morning and spoke his mind very plainly. He wants my blood.’
‘He can join the queue.
‘Ah, now, that’s a different prospect.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘And stop trying to charm me. It doesn’t work.’
But she was lying.
He knew it, and she knew he knew it. Charm paid his passage through life, and in her eyes it was a fair currency. There weren’t enough charming people in the world, and trying to be cross with this one was like trying to reprove a sunny-tempered child.
‘The rage he was in, I’m surprised he waited until this morning,’ she reflected.
‘He didn’t. He called last night, but I was out, so he left a message that nearly burned up my answering machine, and he called me again early this morning, ordering me to get myself over here, fast.’
‘How did you get here while it’s still high tide?’
He laughed. ‘It isn’t still high tide. It’s high tide again. I have a little boat that I keep tied up on the shore. My sister, Sarah, insisted on coming with me. She’s gone in search of Jarvis. I warn you, she has designs on him.’
‘You mean she’s in love with him?’ Meryl asked, dismayed. ‘In that case maybe I should back off.’
‘Forget it. Jarvis has known Sarah most of his life, and if he’d wanted to marry her he’d have done it by now. But their only link is horses. He loves riding. She owns a riding stable, does a bit of breeding. The trouble is, she’s fixated on bloodlines, in people as well as horses. The Ashtons are “good family”.’
‘I’m glad you told me,’ she said, amused.
‘Yes, you’d never have known that I’m “the Honourable Ferdinand” would you?’
‘I wouldn’t have called you honourable in a million years.’
He grinned. ‘Well, I’m
‘If he doesn’t do it first.’
‘He improves on acquaintance.’
‘So I should hope,’ she said darkly.
