Dragon's Lair (13 page)

girl who had just spent a fulfilling night in her lover's arms. She

looked totally out of sorts with the world as she flounced away, but

Davina thought this was probably understandable. Her own sudden

and inexplicable arrival must have jolted the apple cart to some

extent. Perhaps Gethyn had had to spend some time reassuring

Rhiannon that she had no need to be jealous—that he was in fact

immune, as he had bluntly told her, Davina.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, shivering a little in her thin

gingham nightgown, and sipped at the tea. It was comforting, in

spite of the mess in the saucer. She glanced at her watch and saw to

her surprise that it was after nine o'clock. She had slept for longer

than she would have thought possible.

As she came downstairs, the pony-trekkers were just disappearing

out of the front door, securely camouflaged in hard hats and

voluminous mackintoshes, and they gave her a cheery wave as they

trudged down the path into the mist and drizzle.

Davina went through to the kitchen. Mrs Parry and Rhiannon were

both there, stowing quantities of packed lunches away in a pair of

substantial saddlebags. Mrs Parry looked up as Davina entered and

smiled rather nervously.

'Oh, there you are. I'll just finish this and then I'll make you some

breakfast.'

'There's really no need. I only ever have fruit juice and toast in the

morning and if you'll tell me where the things are, I can manage.'

Davina kept her tone cool. She found it hard to forgive Gethyn's

aunt for having summoned him home in such haste, and for such a

reason. 'I'm sorry I'm late. I overslept.'

'Well, I would have called you, only Gethyn said to let you have

your sleep, see?' Mrs Parry sounded flustered, as well she might,

Davina thought grimly. It was a ticklish position to be in—with

Gethyn's former wife on one side of her, and his future bride on the

other. Mrs Parry gave her a sideways look. 'Did you enjoy yourself

yesterday evening?'

Davina was tempted to reply, 'Fine—until I came back here.' But

she confined herself to a noncommittal, 'Thank you—yes.'

Rhiannon fastened the buckle on the last bag with a vicious jerk. 'I'll

be going now, Mam,' she threw over her shoulder as she made her

way to the back door. Mrs Parry sighed faintly as it slammed

behind her, but the smile she gave Davina was almost determinedly

bright.

'It's been a busy week,' she said half-apologetically. 'But one family

will be going home tomorrow, and I thought perhaps you might like

to go out on one of the treks. There's some wonderful country

hereabouts, and there's no better way of seeing it.'

Davina shook her head. 'I don't think so. I may well be going myself

tomorrow, but even if I am still here, I haven't come equipped to go

riding. And I'm not an expert rider by any means.'

'Oh, Rhiannon takes beginners too, and she'd loan you some

trousers and boots, I'm sure.' Mrs Parry bustled about, cutting slices

from a large loaf and putting them to toast, and pouring chilled

grapefruit juice from a jug in the big fridge.

Davina could imagine nothing less appealing than borrowing

clothes from Rhiannon, and decided that Mrs Parry was valiantly

trying to convince herself that all was well, and that the

undercurrents were all. figments of her imagination. She contented

herself with a brief smile and a rather sceptical lift of her brows.

Mrs Parry brought the toast to the table and began to ladle tea into a

big brown pot.

'The best cup of the day, this,' she confided as she herself sat down.

'I like having the visitors—it makes the place lively, but it's nice just

for a little while to have the house quiet again. What are you going

to do with yourself today?' she added, putting a dish of home-made

marmalade down in front of Davina.

Davina felt slightly taken aback. Mrs Parry seemed intent on

treating her as if she was just another visitor to Plas Gwyn—a

welcome guest to be cosseted and entertained. She was obviously

determined to ignore the implications of Davina's presence.

During the long night, Davina had decided that she must talk to

Gethyn again, and soon, however unpalatable the task might be.

Hints and inferences were no good, she told herself. They had to

sort out where they stood once and for all. In a way, things had

already gone more smoothly than she had dared to hope. Perhaps

today Gethyn too would be anxious to get their respective futures

settled, without further recriminations on either side. Or was she

asking for too much? she wondered wryly. She saw Mrs Parry

watching her anxiously and gave a little start.

'Oh—today. I'm not sure.' She spread some marmalade on her toast

and bit into it with appreciation. 'The weather isn't really good

enough for looking around the district, but I expect I'll just go for a

drive.'

'If you're looking for the bright lights, Davina, you're going to be

disappointed.'

She laid her piece of toast back on the plate, feeling her stomach

contract painfully, as Gethyn sauntered into the room. He sent her a

sardonic smile and reached for the teapot, filling a mug for himself.

'On the other hand,' he continued, 'I do have some unfinished

business in Dolgellau. If you really want to play tourist for half a

day, you could come with me.'

Davina hesitated. This was not at all what she had had in mind, but

she knew it would be wisest not to allow that to weigh with her too

heavily. Besides, perhaps Gethyn felt that they could talk more

easily away from the house.

'Thank you,' she said composedly after a moment. 'I shall enjoy

that.'

He lifted an eyebrow at her. 'Ever the optimist,' he drawled. 'Shall

we say half an hour?'

It was not an encouraging beginning, but she nodded and gulped

down the rest of her tea, almost choking in her anxiety to get out of

the kitchen and away from him. This present confrontation was like

a re-run of the previous night, and she knew she couldn't take it. On

the other hand, what was she inviting by agreeing to spend probably

the greater part of the day in his company? she wondered, as she

gained her room. The face that looked back at her from the mirror

looked pale and strained, and for a while she hesitated, her hand

instinctively reaching for the blusher, but eventually she decided not

to make any alterations to her appearance. She certainly had no

wish for Gethyn to gain the mistaken impression that she was

setting out to make herself attractive for him, she thought, and while

she was about it, she scooped her dark auburn hair back from her

face, and tied it at the nape of her neck with a wide black velvet

ribbon.

When she descended the staircase, Gethyn was standing in the hall

waiting for her. He had been smoking a cheroot rather impatiently,

but as the stair creaked under her foot, he glanced up, his

expression suddenly becoming remote and rather unapproachable.

He was wearing a hip-length corded jacket over his faded jeans and

cream roll-necked sweater, and the shock of his attraction lashed

out at her again.

He looked her up and down. 'Haven't you anything more substantial

than that to wear?'

She swallowed. 'Only the shawl I had on last night. I— I wasn't

expecting to be here for longer than a day, and I didn't bring any

extra clothes. And it was so warm yesterday ...' her voice tailed

away.

'Perhaps it was—yesterday,' he said grimly, and she did not deceive

herself that he meant solely the weather. 'But any fool could see

there was a change coming.'

He flung open a door built into the staircase revealing a crowded

cupboard. After a moment's search, he produced a shabby parka

and tossed it over to her.

'It isn't as elegant as your couture dress, but it will at least stop you

being drenched,' he remarked expressionlessly.

Reluctantly Davina slid her arm into the garment. It was far too big

for her and she guessed without being told that it belonged to him.

The cloth still held the aroma of cheroots and the tang of some

masculine cologne. The simple act of wearing it was almost like

being in his arms, she found herself thinking, and the colour rose in

her face. Fortunately his attention seemed to be fixed on the gloomy

conditions outside and he failed to notice her momentary

embarrassment.

He turned back abruptly. 'Ready?' He gave her sandals a derisory

look. 'There's not much we can do about those, though I suppose

the heels are high enough to lift you above any puddles.'

'I'll be all right,' she asserted, nettled at his tone.

'I'll take your word for it.' As she drew level with him at the front

door, he reached out suddenly and drew the hood of the parka up

around her head. His fingers brushed her face as he adjusted the

hood and she pulled away as if she had been stung, biting her lip as

she glimpsed the sudden savagery in his face at her gesture.

He thrust his hands into his pockets and strode out into the rain, his

head slightly bent, and she followed, stumbling a little as the wet

gravel shifted under her feet. In spite of the chill and the prevailing

damp, the air was like wine and she gulped it in, glad of its cooling

effect on her flushed face. What an idiot she had been to over-react

like that! The last thing she wanted was to let Gethyn believe that

she was still vulnerable where he was concerned. She had to admit

that she had totally underestimated the effect on her that seeing him

again would have. But she was here now and there could be no

going back, so all she could do was carry out her self-appointed

task grimly to the end.

Already his long stride was carrying him away from her up the

track, and she had to almost run to keep up with him. She was

breathless by the time they reached the parking place. Gethyn

ignored the Landrover and unlocked the passenger door of a car

standing nearby that had certainly not been there when she had

arrived the night before. Davina thought ironically that she would

have been bound to notice such an affluent-looking piece of

machinery.

She lifted her eyebrows as she subsided into the cream leather seat,

and he took his place beside her. 'Italian?'

He flicked the ignition. 'Yes—if it matters. You're surely not

pretending that you're impressed?'

'It's not pretence,' she said frankly. 'But I didn't know you were

particularly interested in cars.'

'I'm not,' he said briefly. 'It simply gets me from A to B a little

faster, that's all. If you're a nervous passenger you'd better fasten

your seat belt.'

She complied with the suggestion, giving him a slightly defiant

look.

'It's nothing to do with nerves, merely common sense,' she said as

the car made light of the track up to the road.

He gave her a derisive glance. 'So you're learning caution at last, are

you? Well, I suppose better late than never. What a pity for both of

us that the lesson didn't come a little earlier in life.'

'Before I came here, do you mean, or before I married you?'

He lifted an indifferent shoulder, as he turned the car economically

out on to the quiet road. 'Interpret it whatever way you will,' he said

coolly.

With a superhuman effort, she bit back the angry retort that was

trembling on her lips and relapsed into silence. She had to admit

that he was a superb driver. The travelling conditions were

appalling, the rain and mist seeming to increase with every mile,

and the road was narrow and winding, yet she found herself almost

imperceptibly beginning to relax in her seat as if this was solely the

pleasure trip it would appear on the surface.

'We're going by the shortest road through Llanmoel,' Gethyn

remarked laconically at last. 'There is a scenic route over the

mountains, but we'll save that for another day when the weather has

improved.'

She stared at him. 'Precisely how long are you assuming I intend to

stay?'

His mouth twisted in a faint smile. 'For as long as it takes,' he told

her quietly. 'Wasn't that the arrangement we arrived at last night?'

'If so, I wasn't aware of it,' she said between her teeth. 'I was under