Country Lovers (16 page)

“Here, let me do that.”

“No, thanks, Gab. I'm fine. I'm enjoying doing a job without a single interruption from Da. It's a pleasure, believe me.” Megan smiled at him so he would know she wasn't being uncooperative out of unfriendliness. The dogs eddied around Gab's legs in greeting; he bent to acknowledge them and ruffled their ears, and chucked them under their chins. “Great dogs, these. They know who is and who isn't welcome, don't they?”

“They do.” Megan placed the bucket of paint on the top step of the ladder and climbed up to begin painting. “They're old and they're wise, you know. Gyp is nine and Holly, ten; you wouldn't think so, would you?”

“They still work the sheep like young 'uns, though. You'd never think—” A splash of Megan's paint landed on his sweater.

“Oh, sorry! Here, use this old cloth to wipe it off.”

But as Gab took the cloth from her hand, he gripped her wrist. She looked down in surprise and saw that look on his face, which he kept specially for her when her da wasn't looking. A blazing look, a daring, passionate look that unnerved her. There was something crude about it, and a boldness of which nothing good could come.

“That's enough, Gab.”

“No, it's not enough; it isn't even the beginnings of enough.” His grip tightened.

“Gab! Let go.”

“Come down.”

“I said, let go.”

“I said,
come down.
”

“I won't, Gab. Please. Don't make a scene. Please let go.” He didn't, so she tried to twist her arm free, but it made him grip her even tighter.

Balancing on top of the ladder, she couldn't put all her strength behind pulling her wrist away, so she climbed down; but he mistook her reasons, thinking she was doing it in response to his demand. As her feet touched the ground, he wrapped an arm around her waist and bent his head to kiss her. It was a ruthless kiss, which numbed her lips and stifled her breathing. Megan pressed both hands against his chest and pushed hard.

“Ahhh! I like reluctance; it enhances the chase.” He bent his head to kiss her again, but this time she twisted her head away so he couldn't. “It makes me all the more determined.”

“Damn you, Gab. Let me go. If you don't, I'll—”

“Yes?”

She realized she had nothing to threaten him with. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

Gab released her. “You've no idea how I feel about you, have you? It hurts like a great pain in here.” He banged his fist on his chest as he spoke. “Day in, day out. Unbearable. I need you, like a plant needs sun for its very life. I ache for you.”

“However much you feel, it won't get you anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“You're not my type.”

“Not your type? I'm the eldest son of a farmer who owns acres of land, and even you have to agree I'm attractive to women. I'm a good catch. Do you not feel even the tiniest little bit of something for me? I can have any girl I choose, you know, but it's you I want. Come on, Meggie, my love, it's the lad's day off, your da's out, so why not? Let me show you what loving can be like. You won't be able to get enough of me if you give me a chance. Believe me, I know.”

Gab pressed her hand to his lips and then he kissed her wrist, then the softness at the curve of her elbow and then the hollow of her throat, and Megan, briefly yielding to his persuasive lips, could sense the the truth of his saying he could have any girl he chose.

“Ha! The ice maiden begins to melt.” He kissed the hollow of her throat again and nuzzled his face into her neck while his lips pressed kisses on her warm skin. He lifted his head and looked intensely into her eyes. His hand strayed to the buttons at the neck of her shirt and began fumbling to undo them. That was when she came to her senses. Her hand holding the paint brush full of paint jerked into life and she smashed it as hard as she could into his face. Gab, blinded by the wet paint, was so startled he let go of her.

Megan, in charge of herself once more, followed up her attack on him with a vicious punch to his throat. He backed off coughing and complaining. Wiping off the paint as best he could without a mirror, he began to laugh, a roaring bellow of a laugh, till his face grew red and he had to stop. Propped against the door frame, he gasped. “By heck. You're a harridan, you are. But it excites you, resisting me, doesn't it?”

“No. You disgust me.”

“You mean you're disgusted with yourself for fancying me just then, just a tiny little bit. I felt a small surrender, I did.” He grinned a lopsided grin, which confirmed for her his attraction to women. He was going to add something, but they both heard the sounds of a truck turning into the yard, so Gab stuck his head out of the door to see who it was. It was the feed.

Megan climbed the ladder again, dipped the brush in the can of paint, and continued working on the rough stone surface of the stable wall. She trembled inside herself, shocked at finding just how vulnerable she had been for that moment. Her mobile rang, so she rubbed her hand on her trouser leg and fished it out of her pocket. “Hello?”

“It's Da here. I'm ringing to say I'm lunching with Dan at the Askew Arms, so don't worry about me.”

“You are?”

“Yes. He's bringing me home afterward; Rose has had to go home to feed the baby, you see. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, thanks. Have a good time.”

“You sound funny, odd like.”

“Bit breathless. I'm at the top of the ladder painting the dogs' stable. Enjoy, as Rose would say.”

“I can come home.”

“No. No. There's nothing the matter at all. Be seeing you. Enjoy. 'Bye, Da.”

Megan stuffed the phone back into her pocket, picked up the paintbrush again, and carried on with her painting. By the time the truck driver and Gab had unloaded the bags of feed, she'd put the last brush stroke on the wall and was ready for lunch. She stood for a moment admiring her handiwork, thinking there was something enormously satisfying about completing a job like this. Washing out the brush under the outside tap, Megan thought about her da having lunch with Dan.

         

B
UT
her father wasn't thinking about her at all as he sliced through a very tender piece of steak. “I must say, Dan, I do appreciate you taking time to have lunch with me. Most considerate. What's happened about the chap with the sheep in such poor condition?”

“I've put three of them down. The rest are just about well enough to travel back. I've officially reported him.”

“So you should too. They were a disgrace to the farming community.”

“Tad Porter's taking them on, and he'll sell them and give Bernard what he gets. More wine? There's no love lost between them; but being a farmer, Tad puts the animals' welfare first, even though he finds profit a thing of the past.”

Mr. Jones proffered his glass to Dan with a nod. “Thank you.” He took a sip. “Remarkably good wine cellar they must have.”

“It was Lord Askew who introduced me to this wine. It's a good choice, isn't it?”

“You've dined with Lord Askew?”

Dan agreed he had, but only the once. “He paid for it too, even though I was rude to him.”

“Can't stand the chap, myself.”

“You have to know how to handle him. Believe it or not, I think he desperately wants to get on with people but doesn't know how.” Dan saw Lord Askew approaching their table.

“The man's a damn fool.”

Dan tried to catch Mr. Jones's eye to warn him Lord Askew was coming up right behind him.

“A damn fool he is, that Lord Askew. A big, fat, blustering, self-opinionated fool. I've no sympathy for him.”

Dan cleared his throat, looked behind Mr. Jones, and said, “Good afternoon, my lord.”

Mr. Jones paused and then slowly put down his fork and painfully turned his head to look behind him, thinking Dan was joking. But, by God, he wasn't. For once in his life, Idris Jones was dumbfounded.

“Afternoon, Brown. Saw you in the market—thought I'd lunch with you, but you have a guest.”

“You'd be most welcome…” Dan moved his chair to make room.

“No, no. Be so kind…to introduce us.” He nodded at Mr. Jones.

“This is Idris Jones, Beulah Bank Farm.”

“Never seen you here before.”

Lord Askew received a brusque reply. “You're right, you haven't.”

Lord Askew moved forward and offered his hand to Mr. Jones and pumped it with comradely vigor. “Good afternoon to you. You do right to get out and about despite your infirmities. Stunts the mind—makes one inward looking, selfish even, and one's view of life becomes…distorted, don't you know, if one doesn't make the effort. You'd better mind this chap,” he pointed at Dan, “he's dynamite once he gets on your case. He'll have you climbing mountains before long. Enjoy your lunch.”

The restaurant manager, appalled by what he knew Lord Askew must have overheard, had been hovering nervously during this conversation and was relieved to be free to lead Lord Askew to the table he'd reserved for him.

Mr. Jones commented, “Hmm. He must have heard me.”

“He did.”

“Hmm. More of a gentleman than I gave him credit for.”

“Shall you climb mountains?”

“All depends what mountains you have in mind.”

Dan hesitated, knowing he must choose his words carefully. “I was thinking of…no, no. It doesn't matter.”

“Speak up, man.”

“I was thinking of a colleague of mine, lovely chap, sincere, who deserves a wife, and he's found a lovely girl he'd like to marry. But she can't marry him.”

Mr. Jones put down his knife and fork, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and leaning back in his chair, asked, “Might I know this girl?” He raised his eyebrows at Dan.

“She's a stunner, an absolutely lovely woman, and deserves a happy life. You know, love and children and such. I can heartily recommend it. Believe me I can. Heartily.”

The waiter came to clear their plates. “His lordship recommends the almond torte, sir. He said to say.”

Dan agreed. “Then the almond torte it shall be, and for you, Mr. Jones?”

“The same.” When the waiter went away to get their dessert, Mr. Jones said, “Has Rhodri put you up to this?”

“If he knew what I was saying, he'd more than likely choke me to death. We don't get on. Neither professionally nor socially.” Dan smiled half an apologetic smile and waited.

The dessert had arrived before Mr. Jones answered him. “It's none of your damned business this. It's between Megan and me. Look at me, go on, really look at me.” He waited while Dan looked at him. “I need her at home with me. I can't manage on my own, so that's an end to it.”

“That's selfish and what's more you know it.”

“How dare you speak in that tone to me?”

“Someone has to and today I'm your man. The days when elderly parents kept one of their girls at home to care for them in their old age are long gone, and good riddance, I say. Megan has as much right to a life of her own as your son has. He's disappeared off into the night leaving the farm and you, without, I suspect, so much as a backward glance. So why shouldn't Megan disappear too?”

“Because she knows which side her bread's buttered, that's why.”

“There are other ways of going about it. What Megan needs is more help with her workload.”

“Like?”

“Help with the house, help to look after you. It's all possible with a bit of thought on your part. You could organize it for her—you haven't lost your faculties; your mind is razor sharp.”

“Hmmph.”

“Lovely dessert.” Dan raised his glass in the direction of Lord Askew and thanked him with a nod of his head. Lord Askew looked enormously pleased.

“I won't have coffee.”

“Right. I'll get the bill—time I was back at the practice anyway.”

“I'll get a taxi then—can't stand much more of your sermonizing.”

“I'll get shot down in flames if Rose finds out I didn't take you home. So please, allow me.”

Dan swung the wheelchair out from the table and went out of the restaurant, paying the bill as he went. “I promise not to sermonize all the way home, but think about what I've suggested.”

“Hmm.” And that was all that was said all the way back to Beulah Bank Farm.

T
HAT
afternoon, Megan's da spotted some small flecks of dried white paint on Gab's eyebrows when Gab called in for his cup of tea in the kitchen, and he wondered if there was a reason for Megan sounding out of breath when he'd spoken to her on the phone. Purposely he invited Gab into the sitting room for a word when he was about to leave for the day. “You're a good worker, there's no mistake about that. You've put more hours in than I expected, and it's much appreciated. I shall give recognition to the fact in your wage packet.”