Dragon's Lair (19 page)

door herself and climbed out, without looking at him or speaking.

She sent a single flickering glance to reassure herself that her own

car was still there, remembering as she did so that she had over half

a tankful of petrol. That should be enough to get her well away

from here. She wouldn't take the direct route. It would be too easy

for him to follow her. She would set off in the opposite

direction—find some side roads to take her back
to the
main

thoroughfares and home.

She walked down the track towards the house, forcing herself not to

look back to see if he was following. It would be a further

humiliation to betray her concern about his intentions. But he

seemed in no hurry to pursue her and she found she was quickening

her own steps perceptibly as she approached the house.

In the hall she encountered a flustered-looking Mrs Parry.

'Oh, you're back,' she exclaimed with evident relief. 'Every time

Gethyn goes out, it's the same. That old phone never stops ringing.

There's someone hanging on for him now. I thought I'd heard the

car.'

'He won't be long.' Davina made herself speak normally, but she

was aware that Mrs Parry's eyes were on her rather searchingly as

she went upstairs to her room. She seized her case and thrust her

nightdress and toilet bag into it, then grabbed her black shawl from

the back of a chair and piled it in on top of the other things. She

was ready. She opened the door quietly and tiptoed along the

landing until she reached the head of the stairs. Then she listened.

Somewhere below she could hear Gethyn speaking and guessed by

the pattern of the words that he was on the telephone. Silently she

crossed her fingers in the fold of her skirt that it would be a long

call, then she slipped quietly down, across the hall to the open front

door and out again into the sunlight.

She ran up the track, stumbling in her haste, searching in her bag for

the precious keys as she went. It seemed a lifetime before she

reached the car and unlocked the door, listening all the time for the

sounds of pursuit. But all was silence but for the distant sound of

the sheep on the mountain. She slid into the driving seat and fitted

the key into the ignition. The engine spluttered and died.

She bit her lip and waited for a minute. It was just cold, that was

all, after standing for twenty-four hours. She needed more choke.

She tried again. The car snorted feebly and was silent. She sat in

the driving seat, twisting the key again and again, trying to will it to

start, but it was hopeless. The battery must be flat, she thought. She

groaned softly, crossing her arms on the steering wheel and resting

her bowed head on them. Where, she wondered desperately, did

she go from here?

She heard a sound outside the car and stiffened immediately, lifting

her head to look around her, wary as a wild bird. Gethyn was

standing a few feet away watching her through the windscreen with

a faint, cold amusement. He walked round to her window and

looked down at her.

'Having trouble?'

There was something in the way he said it that made her realise

with impotent fury that whatever ailed the car it was not the battery.

He had known exactly what was in her mind, and he'd done

something to the engine. She couldn't begin to guess what it might

be, because she was no mechanic, and he knew it.

'Go to hell,' she said quietly.

His teeth were very white, when he smiled, against his dark face.

'I've been there already,' he said very gently. 'Next time,
cariad,
I'll

take you along.'

He strode over to his own car and got into the driving seat. The

engine purred into instant life and as Davina watched, shaken and

chagrined, he drove away up the track and disappeared.

It was the longest afternoon of Davina's life. After a fruitless

half-hour spent under the bonnet of the car, tentatively poking at

various pieces of wiring, she decided fuming that she might as well

give it up as a bad job and return to the house.

Her first act was to pick up the telephone and dial the local garage,

but that didn't get her very far. A harassed male voice informed her

that he had so much work on hand that he couldn't possibly get

around to looking at her car for at least two days.

'Staying at Plas Gwyn, are you?' he added just before he rang off.

'Well, ask Gethyn Lloyd to have a look at it for you. He's not bad

with motors, and it might be just a simple thing he could fix for you

in a jiffy.'

Davina, seething as she replaced her own receiver, didn't doubt that

for one minute!

Her next phone call was to her mother in London, but again fortune

was not on her side. Mrs Greer was out.

Davina was beginning to feel quietly desperate as she walked into

the sitting room and stood staring out of the window. It seemed that

whether she liked it or not, she was stranded at Plas Gwyn for the

time being. Her chances of hiring a car were remote in the extreme

at this time of year, and she wasn't even sure where the nearest

mainline station was.

She sighed, and folded her arms across her breasts, hugging herself

tightly. Perhaps she was tending to over-react again, she told

herself. She knew she had not mistaken the very real threat in

Gethyn's words, but then she had made him angry so she had asked

for trouble. On the other hand, she could not really believe that he

would actually carry out any of the drastic action he had hinted at.

When his temper cooled, he would surely see reason, she thought,

and wished that she could feel more positive about it.

His behaviour to date could hardly be described as predictable, but

then she had not behaved very sensibly either. She should never

have come here in the first place, but having made the decision she

should never have allowed Gethyn to get under her skin again in the

way he had. And she should not have provoked him in turn. After

all, she had come here to reach a civilised settlement with him, and

now they were at each other's throats.

She put up a hand and rubbed the nape of her neck, missing the

weight of her hair on it. She bitterly regretted that visit to the

hairdressers' now, although she supposed in one way she should be

glad she had gone. It was only his discovery of what she had done

that had stopped Gethyn from making love to her, she thought

miserably. She certainly hadn't tried to stop him, and that was

something she would have to live with. She had no one but herself

to blame. She had deliberately courted such a situation by allowing

herself to be alone with him. There had always been this physical

attraction between them, and she knew now that she ignored it at

her peril.

Davina bit her lip. She was thankful Gethyn would never know that

no one else had ever kissed or touched her like that. During the two

years of their separation, she had never been even remotely tempted

to go to bed with anyone else. She had retired behind a curtain of

smiling aloofness which kept would-be admirers at a safe distance.

Now it had been brought home to her with a vengeance that her

defences were by no means impregnable.

She bowed her head. It was humiliating to have to acknowledge

how readily she had responded to Gethyn, how willing she had

been to satisfy his transient desire. She had not even paused to

consider that there was now another woman in his life, and neither

had he. She supposed unhappily that she should not have been too

surprised by his conduct. His behaviour in America after they had

parted had revealed just how lightly he regarded loyalty and fidelity

in marriage. Rhiannon too might have a bitter lesson to learn one

day, she thought, and for a moment she could almost feel pity for

the girl.

'Oh, you're here, Davina.' Mrs Parry bustled into the room. 'Where's

Gethyn gone? There's a list of messages for him and…'

'I wouldn't know.' Davina interrupted the older woman more coldly

than she had intended. 'I'm not his keeper.' She saw Mrs Parry's

kind face take on a hurt expression and contrition overcame her.

'I'm sorry, Aunt Beth,' she apologised quickly. 'It's just that—where

Gethyn goes and what he does—is really none of my business any

more.' If it ever was, she added painfully under her breath.

Mrs Parry gave a quick frown. 'I don't understand the young people

of today, I don't really,' she said fretfully. 'All this running in and out

of marriage as if it didn't matter.'

Davina turned away. 'It takes two to make a bargain, Aunt Beth.'

She kept her voice deliberately neutral. 'I think Gethyn probably

prefers to be a free agent—for the time being at least,' she added,

the thought of Rhiannon at the forefront of her mind. 'He finds the

bonds of matrimony too tying.'

Mrs Parry snorted. 'What kind of nonsense is that?' she demanded.

'Why would he have saddled himself with a house like this if he

wasn't thinking of settling down for good?'

'I don't know what his motives are,' Davina said a little wearily. 'But

I can promise you that I don't figure in his future plans either here or

anywhere else. And it's an arrangement that suits both of us. Please

excuse me now. I'm going for a walk.'

She had no very clear idea of where she was going when she got

outside the house. The sky had cleared miraculously, and the sun

shone down on her unprotected head, awakening in her a longing

for a cool breeze, and the sound of running water. She turned

abruptly and set off through the deserted yard at the back of the

house, making for the track which would lead up to the waterfall.

Little flies danced around her as she made her way up the rutted

slope behind the house, and she slapped them away irritably with

her hand. After she had been walking for about ten minutes, she

paused and looked. Plas Gwyn nestled below her in the hollow, as

secure and familiar in its untrammelled lines as a child's drawing.

Mrs Parry had been right in one thing, she thought, sitting down on

the short, springy turf and resting her back against a sun-warmed

rock. It was the sort of house to settle down in. It seemed to breathe

peace and comfort, a far cry from the university digs and cramped

London flats that Gethyn had been used to. But would this kind of

setting really bring him satisfaction. Judging by what he had said in

response to her uncle's offer, he was quite prepared to set out on his

travels again.

Her gaze wandered away from the house, tracing the track that led

deeper into the valley below the dragon rock. She could just

glimpse a cluster of grey stone and slate which she guessed must be

the mill that Gethyn was renovating. That too was an enigma. It

seemed incredible that a writer of his calibre could apparently turn

his back completely on one part of his life in order to devote

himself to a half-ruined woollen mill. Would he really find the

answer to his creative urge in such comparatively mundane pursuits

as weaving tweed for tourists? She shook her head in bewilderment.

From her knowledge of Gethyn, it didn't seem possible that such a

prosaic undertaking could fill his life to the exclusion of everything

else. But then, she reminded herself, what did she really know of

Gethyn?

She stood up abruptly and continued on her way up the steepening

track towards the towering bulk of the mountain. The going was

getting rougher all the time and the sandals she was wearing didn't

help at all. The shoes she had bought in Dolgellau would have been

ideal, but they, of course, were in Gethyn's car still. She bent and

slipped off her sandals, and after a moment's hesitation took off her

tights as well, tucking them into the pocket of her dress before

continuing her walk, moving along the grass that bordered the path,

relishing its coolness under her toes.

She could hear the sound of the waterfall long before it came into

view. She rounded a corner, and saw that the path fell away

suddenly down into a deep hollow, at the foot of which was the

pool Mrs Fenton had mentioned. Above the pool, the water slid

smoothly down over the dark rock, foaming gently over the

boulders it encountered on its descent. Little waves lapped

invitingly on the small beach of shingle and pebbles.