Witching Hour (16 page)

and coffee was for him, that they were already well supplied, and

she had to make herself walk over to where he was sitting and set

the food down.

'Good morning.' He folded the paper he was reading— the

business section, she noticed—and set it down.

'Good morning,' Morgana responded with equal formality. He had

finished his grapefruit and as she reached to pick up the dish with

the discarded skin, his. fingers closed round her wrist.

'Don't rush off,' he said softly. 'Sit down and have some coffee

with me.'

'No, thanks,' she said curtly. 'I do have things to do this morning.'

He shrugged. 'So do I. I was merely suggesting a civilised

interlude before we begin.'

She was horribly aware of Miss Meakins' inquisitive gaze

devouring the little scene from the adjoining table, and she tugged

herself free of his grasp with heightened colour.

'I'm afraid I don't have time for interludes, civilised or otherwise,'

she said between her teeth. 'You'll have to excuse me, please.'

His eyes narrowed slightly. 'You look as if you need a break of

some kind. You're so tense you might be strung up on wires.

What's the matter? Didn't you sleep well last night?'

'Like a log,' she snapped, for the benefit of the avidly listening ears

near by. 'I hope you spent a comfortable night.'

'I could think of ways it could have been improved on.' Lyall

stretched out a hand for the toast rack and the dish of Elsa's home

made marmalade.

'I'm so sorry,' she said insincerely. 'You'd better have a word with

my mother. I'm sure she'll be able to put things right.'

'I doubt that.' He spread the marmalade on the toast. 'In any event,

I think I shall just let things take their course.' The smile he turned

on her was silky, but little devils danced in his eyes, disconcerting

her completely. Her flush deepening, she picked up the grapefruit

dish and started for the door.

As she went through the hall, the telephone began to ring. She

lifted the receiver and heard Rob's voice speaking to her.

Her mind was so filled with Lyall that she responded to his initial

greetings almost at random, until she heard his voice sharpen,

asking if she was all right.

'Yes—yes, of course I am.' She was instantly remorseful. 'It—it's a

wonderful morning, isn't it? Did you want something special?'

'I thought you might like to know the new horse has arrived.'

Morgana gasped. 'Oh, that's great. How is he settling?'

'It's a little too soon to know,' he said, but his tone conveyed a

serene satisfaction and conviction that all would be well. 'He looks

terrific, and he seems to have a good temperament as well. Even

my mother and father are impressed. Can you manage to get over

for an hour? I'd love to show him to you.'

'Now that's an invitation I can't refuse,' she said happily. 'Do I get

to ride him too?'

'Perhaps, if you make it worth my while,' said Rob with a sinister

chuckle.

'Hm, I shall have to think about that,' she teased. 'Perhaps I'll just

hire him for an hour later on instead.'

'I don't know whether Elaine is going to be able to bear him to be

used for the school.'

'But I thought that was why you'd bought him,' she protested. 'To

take the place of Checkmate.'

'Well, that was the intention,' Rob admitted. 'But Elaine seems to

have other ideas now that he's actually here. She's always wanted

to try some eventing, as you know.'

'You think he could be that good?'

'She thinks so,' he corrected. 'But understandably she doesn't want

our usual range of heavy-handed novices ruining his mouth.'

'No, I suppose not,' agreed Morgana, thinking all the same that it

was typical of Elaine to acquire a new mount ostensibly for the

riding school, and then change her mind and decide the horse was

too good for the pupils. And the stables badly needed a good,

even-tempered hack. The chestnut gelding Checkmate, which had

been their last acquisition, looked mild enough, but proved to have

a streak of mischief bordering on absolute malice. He bit, he

kicked, he shied, and at the slightest sign of hesitancy on the part

of his rider, he bucked. But he was showy to look at and a good

jumper, so Elaine rode him in jumping events at gymkhanas and

used him as an advertisement for the school.

Morgana said goodbye to Rob, promising she would be over as

soon as she was free. As she went back to the kitchen, she realised

ruefully that her motive was double-edged. She wanted to see the

new horse, about which she had heard so much, but at the same

time it was providing her with a cast-iron excuse for getting out of

the house.

And when, deliberately casual, she mentioned it to her mother, it

was clear Mrs Pentreath had thought exactly the same thing.

'But, darling,' she looked at Morgana, her brows raised, 'Lyall

might need you for something.'

Morgana shrugged. 'I hardly think so. We finished the tour of the

house yesterday. And I don't intend to live in his pocket. I do have

my own life to live.'

'Yes, of course,' Mrs Pentreath agreed. 'But he is our employer

now, you know. Perhaps we should consult him about our time

off.'

'And perhaps we shouldn't,' Morgana snapped. 'We haven't signed

anything yet. He doesn't own us body and soul, and he never will

as far as I'm concerned.

'Hoity-toity,' Elsa remarked tartly, coming in from the courtyard.

'Who got out of her bed the wrong side, then?'

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' Morgana exploded. She went to the broom

cupboard in the passage and retrieved the Hoover and the dusters

and polish, deciding she might as well vent her spleen on the

bedrooms. She had always found the physical energy she needed

to expand on housework had a profoundly soothing effect, but this

morning as she vacuumed and rubbed, her panaicea didn't seem to

be working. She paid Lyall's room the most cursory of visits, not

in the least mollified to find it tidy, with the bed neatly made. But

at least it wasn't occupied, she thought, as she unplugged the

Hoover. She had that much to be thankful for.

She put her cleaning implements away, and, sticking her head

round the office door, told her mother with faint defiance that she

was going down to the Home Farm.

'I'll be back in time to help serve lunch,' she added the assurance.

'That's all right, dear.' Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on the column of

figures she was adding. 'Lyall's waiting for you. He said he'd give

you a lift.'

'How very obliging of him,' Morgana said coldly. 'However, I

think I can manage to get there under my own steam.'

Her mother sighed. 'Just as you wish, of course, but I ought to

warn you the car isn't behaving too well at the moment. I think it's

the battery.'

'Then I'll walk,' Morgana said firmly. She ran up to her room to get

her coat, and a scarf for her hair. She was humming a little tune,

but it died on her lips when she pushed open her bedroom door and

saw Lyall sitting on the window seat.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded angrily.

'Waiting for you.' He rose to his feet unhurriedly. 'It occurred to

me that you'd be up to make yourself glamorous for the faithful

swain. I was afraid if I hung around downstairs, I might miss you.'

It was smoothly said, but she did not miss the glint in his eyes,

indicating that he had already accurately gauged her likely reaction

to his offer.

'Thank you,' she returned ironically. 'But there was no need to take

ail this trouble. I can get to Home Farm by myself. And I wouldn't

want to take you out of your way.'

'You're not,' he said coolly. 'I'm going there too.'

'You are?' she said weakly, aware that the wind had vanished from

her sails yet again.

'I decided to take the lovely Elaine up on her offer of dinner last

night, or rather I offered her an alternative,' he told her. 'We ate at

a place called the Carte Blanche. Do you know it?'

'I've heard of it,' she replied rather huskily. So that was where he

had been—taking Elaine Donleven out to dinner. She supposed

she shouldn't really be surprised. Elaine had signalled her

intentions quite clearly, earlier in the day, as Lyall had been quick

to appreciate. 'You— you don't let the grass grow under your feet,

do you?'

'No,' he said. 'I can't afford to. And as I've tried to explain, my time

here has to be strictly limited.'

'And you're going over to Home Farm this morning— to see

Elaine?'

'She offered to show me the stables,' he nodded. 'I'd be interested

to see them. She seems to have her head screwed on the right way,

as well as other assets.'

'Oh, she has,' Morgana agreed. 'Are you interested in horses?'

He shrugged. 'Reasonably so. My stepfather used to keep them on

his estate in New Hampshire, but I never had a great deal of time

for riding.'

'My God!' Morgana raised her eyebrows. 'Have we actually

discovered something at last that the famous Lyall van Guisen

doesn't excel at?'

'Perhaps I was too busy perfecting my expertise in other

directions,' he said mockingly. 'Would you like a demonstration?'

he added, glancing towards the bed.

'Thanks, but no, thanks,' she said unevenly. 'Now will you please

get out of my room.'

'If I must. I have seen a woman comb her hair and put lipstick on

before.'

'I might be going to change my clothes,' she said defiantly.

'To go riding?' His eyes surveyed the slender length of her jeans-

clad legs. 'I don't think so. In either event, I'd prefer to stay,' he

added wickedly, watching the instant colour rise in her face.

'To hell with you and your preferences!' she flared. 'I would simply

like a little privacy.'

'You've got five minutes,' he told her. 'Elaine has already been on

the phone once wanting to know where we are.'

'Where you are, perhaps,' she said coldly. '| doubt whether my

whereabouts are of any great importance to her.'

'I doubt it too,' he said softly. 'But it's not her you're going to see.

Unless I miss my guess, it's her brother.'

'That hardly took a great deal of working out,' she said shortly,

going across to the wardrobe and jerking open the door. She soon

found what she was looking for—a hacking jacket in a warm wool

tweed which had seen better days. Uncaring of what Lyall might

think, she thrust her arms into the sleeves. It didn't matter what she

looked like, she told herself defiantly. She was no competition for

Elaine and never had been, so she wasn't going to make a fool of

herself by trying at this late stage. She took a silk square from her

dressing table drawer and tied it over her hair.

Then she faced him. 'I'm ready.'

He inclined his head courteously, but made no comment. As she

went past him, out of the door he was holding open for her,

Morgana thought wryly that if he was accustomed to prolonged

prinking sessions from the women in his life, the last few minutes

must have been a bit of an eye-opener for him. She could imagine,

for instance, the amount of time that Elaine would spend before

presenting her immaculately groomed self to the world, and she

tried to visualise herself in similar circumstances, but failed. She

had never had a great deal of time to spend on her appearance, let

alone the inclination. And she certainly couldn't afford a lot of

expensive cosmetics to pamper herself with. She was fortunate in

possessing a clear white skin which needed little assistance, and

large eyes heavily fringed with dark lashes. She was slim, without

needing to diet, and reasonably attractive, she thought judiciously,

but no heads were going to turn when she walked into a room.

'I brought the car round to the front,' Lyall told her when they got

downstairs. He opened the front door and ushered her past him.

'I can see that,' she said rather faintly. 'Are you sure Cornish roads

are ready for this?'

He lifted a shoulder. 'I make out. Do you want to drive?'

'No!' The
thought of trying to control all the latent power

concealed in that low-slung, streamlined silver-grey body turned

her knees to jelly.

'It's no more dangerous than a broomstick.' He was laughing at her

again, reminding her of the embarrassment of their first meeting,

and she gave him a stony stare.

'I'm not used to cars that look as if they should be taking part in

some Grand Prix,' she said with a lift of her shoulder. 'I prefer my