Sally Wentworth - Garden of Thorns Page 8

  Startled> she replied, 'Yes, of course. I love them."

  'Then you'll like what I have to show you. This way."

  He led the way round the edge of the trees, but when he started to walk along a narrow path that led into the depth of the wood, Kirsty hung back uncertainly.

  Seeing her hesitation, Gyles looked at her in exasperation. 'It's all right, you're quite safe. Today's Tuesday; I only rape the village maidens on Fridays!'

  Kirsty's eyebrows flew up and then she gave a reluctant laugh and moved to follow him again, but he seemed in no hurry to go on. Instead he stood looking down at heir enigmatically. 'I was beginning to think you'd never do that.'

  She gave a little frown of puzzlement. 'Do what?'

  'Smile. You should do it more often.' His eyes looked deep into hers. 'It's like, the sun coming out after rain, he said softly.

  Hastily Kirsty looked away. 'What is it you want to show me?' she asked coldly;

  Immediately he turned and led the way further into the wood, along a path so narrow that she wouldn't have noticed it herself. The trees grew close together here, letting little sunlight through, and the undergrowth was left to grow dense and unchecked, the trunks of long-dead trees allowed to lie where they had fallen. But presently Gyles said, 'Here we are," and moved aside so that she could see past him.

  'Oh!' She gave a gasp of pleasure and surprise. They had come to a clearing in what must almost be the centre of the wood, and here the sunlight shafted down on to a small brook, its waters rippling over stones. But it was the mass of flowers that grew on its mossy banks that made Kirsty catch her breath in wonder. The place seemed to be carpeted in the deep mauve of violets, but among them were drifts of delicate primroses and deep yellow celandines, and further back among the trees wood anemones lifted their star-like heads and grew so thickly that they looked like snow against the rich brown of the earth. Slowly she moved forward, afraid of treading on the flowers, her face lit up with delight at the beauty of the scene.

  'Don't you want to pick some?’ Gyles voice brought her back to earth and she realised that she had been just standing and gazing her fill for several minutes.

  She shook her head. 'No, that would be a kind of sacrilege. Do many people know about this?'

  'Very few. I dry to keep it as quiet as possible. Unfortunately most townspeople wouldn't appreciate the beauty of the place and would probably start uprooting the flowers, especially the primroses, and taking them to plant in their own gardens instead of leaving them here where they belong.'

  Kirsty's voice hardened. 'How do you know I wouldn't do that? I'm a town person.'

  He glanced at her. 'You said you loved flowers. And besides, you're not a Londoner any more now, you're a villager. You'll find that you will gradually be absorbed into the community and become so much a part of it that you'll forget you ever lived anywhere else. You'll know everything there is to know about your neighbours and they'll know all about you, much more than you'd believe possible. They will always be on hand to help you if you need it and they'll expect you to give unstintingly of yourself to them.'

  He had spoken lightly, but there was an undercurrent of warning in his voice, and he looked at her intently as he asked, 'Do you think you can take it?' When she didn't answer straight away he added caustically, 'Or is this herb farm idea just some whim that you intend to give up when you grow tired of it?'

  Kirsty turned on him, annoyed that he should disrupt the peace of such a perfect place, and her anger intensified because she wasn't sure enough in her own mind to give him a definite answer. 'What's it got to do with you? Why are you so interested in my affairs?'

  Her voice rose in resentment and must have triggered off a similar reaction in Gyles, because he took a hasty step towards her, regardless of the flowers he crushed underfoot. He took hold of her arms so tightly that she winced, and for a second he looked as if he was about to make some angry retort, but then he recovered himself and let her go. Stepping back, he ran his hand through his dark hair.

  'I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how absurdly young you are."

  But his apology did nothing to placate her. "That's right, blame everything on my youth. Older people always do that when they're too set in their ways to bridge the generation gap. But I'll have you know that I'm twenty-two, and I'm quite old enough to make my own decisions and stick to them! she emphasised.

  'Good, I'm glad to hear it;' He had himself fully under control now and she could read nothing from his expression. 'If you've seen enough, perhaps we'd better go back.' "

  Silently Kirsty turned to follow him, but when they emerged from the wood she took careful note of where the path started so that she would be able to find it again. It would give her much pleasure to come here again alone and not have it spoiled by Gyles Grantham's disturbing presence.

  " His horse was still grazing quietly nearby and he sprang lightly into the saddle. Reaching down a hand, he said, 'I'll give you a lift back to your cottage.'

  Kirsty hung back.' But I can't ride.'

  He looked amused. 'You don't have to do anything —just sit in the saddle.'

  'But will the animal be able to carry us both?"

  Gyles ran his eyes over her slim figure consideringly. 'How much do you weigh?'

  She began to tell him and then realised that she was being teased.

  He laughed. 'Put your right foot on mine.' She did so and he hoisted her easily up so that she was sitting side-saddle in front of him. And it wasn't until he settled himself more comfortably and put his arms round her to pick up the reins that she realised just how close to him she was, her shoulder leaning against his chest, her face very near to his. His proximity unnerved her andfor a while she tried to hold herself rigidly upright so that she wasn't touching him, but she found that well-nigh impossible on horseback arid had to loosen her body as they began to make their way downhill. All the same, she felt nervous and on

  edge. Heavens, who wouldn't when held so dose to a virtual stranger, and someone she'd been having a recent feud with at that! If Gyles noticed her tension he gave no sign, talking casually to her as he pointed out various landmarks—the spire of a distant church, the highest hill in the county—until gradually she began to relax a little and to answer him.

  Looking back at the hill they had just left, she said, 'It seems odd that that small wood should have been left there right at the top of the hill instead of being cleared with the rest of the land.'

  'It wasn't. That land was never forested. The wood was deliberately planted there in the eighteenth century.' Seeing her look of puzzlement, Gyles explained, 'This is hunting country. But unfortunately there aren't many places where foxes can breed, so the local landowners would plant those copses especially for the foxes, and they sited them on the tops of hills so that they acted as a landmark. There are a great many of them in the country if you look.'

  ‘I’ve never heard of that before. You must know a great deal about the countryside.'

  ‘I’ve lived here all my life; it's my home and my livelihood.' He looked down at her and his breath brushed her hair. 'And now it's yours.'

  She was saved from answering because they'd come to a gate leading into the lower meadow and he had to lean down to open it. They continued on, the .horse picking its way slowly across the open field to another gate into the lane. Gyles shut it carefully behind them and went to ride up the lane to the cottage, but Kirsty said quickly. 'I can walk from here, thanks.'

  It's no trouble to take you the rest of the way.'

  ‘No, I'd rather walk.'

  He looked at her quizzically. 'Afraid of what the neighbours might say?' But he reined in the horse and dismounted, then reached up to help her down. Putting his hands round her waist, he lifted her easily to the ground, but didn't let her go at once. 'By the way, I've instructed the staff at the garden centre to serve you with whatever you need, and as you're in business you'll be able to have everything at trade prices.'

  The casual way
he announced his complete change of attitude took Kirsty's breath away. Her eyes filled with bright sparks of indignation. 'And I suppose you expect me to be terribly grateful to you for your condescension. Well, I'm not. I'd rather drive fifty miles than buy anything from you!'

  She tried to push him aside, but found herself between him and the horse and unable to move away. His hands tightened on her waist and she realised that her efforts to break free were completely ineffective. It was like trying to break an iron bar. Deliberately he waited until she'd stopped struggling and was glaring up at him resentfully.

  Brusquely he said, 'I thought you'd agreed to call a halt to this childish behaviour. You're a businesswoman now, Kirsty, and you'll need all the advantages you can get. So for your sister's sake, if not for your own, you've got to accept my offer.' Kirsty's resentment deepened. 'You don't pull your punches, do you? All right, maybe I have no choice—but just don't do me any favours, Mr Grantham!' Pulling free from him at last, she ducked under his arm and ran along the lane, leaving him standing looking after her, his expression unreadable.

  Penny was still sitting in the garden reading a book when she got back, and looked at her flushed face curiously. 'You must have been hurrying—or have you been sunbathing?'

  Kirsty forced herself to simmer down and speak lightly. 'A-bit of both, I suppose. Have you had a good rest?'

  'Mm, lovely. Did you meet anyone?'

  "What do you mean?" Kirsty's voice was sharp.

  Penny looked at her in surprise. ‘Why, nothing. I just wondered if you ran into anyone on your walk, that's all.'

  Turning hurriedly to go inside, Kirsty said, 'No, I didn't. No one of; importance.'

  But although she might deny it to Penny, Kirsty found that she couldn't dismiss Gyles Grantham from her mind so easily. All through the rest of that day her thoughts kept returning to him, no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on other things. He was older than most of the men she knew and she wasn't used to dealing with anyone who treated her so autocratically, who took it for granted that he knew what was best for her and expected her to know it too. And this very attitude aroused a stubborn streak in her that made her behave in a contrary, wilful manner, so starting the circle off again. But most disturbing of all, she found that she was now aware of him as a man and not just as her enemy. When he had held her so dose to him in the saddle his nearness had affected her far more than it should have done, far more than if he had been merely-someone she disliked.

  As she got into bed that night and lay awake in the darkness, Kirsty realised that it was the effect he had on her which had made her want to hit out at him and to argue with him, some perverse part of her nature fighting against the attraction she felt for him. Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Was that what it was? Physical attraction? She must be crazy! She was in love with Simon, wasn't she? Dismissively she told herself that she was being silly, that all she really felt was simply a natural embarrassment at being held so near to a man she didn't know very well and certainly didn't trust.

  The next morning Kirsty woke to the usual country sounds: Mrs Anderson's rooster crowing, the cows being rounded up in the field, the clip-clop of horses' hooves going up the lane, and birds singing their heads off outside the window. Yawningly she went to bring in the milk, happy that it was going to be another lovely day, no sign yet of April showers. She opened the front door and gazed down in surprise. Someone had left a square white box, not much smaller than a shoe-box, on the doorstep. Curiously she picked it up and carried it into the kitchen, looking to see if there was anything written on it to say who it was for or where it had come from, but it was completely blank. Carefully she removed the lid and then stared. Inside there was a large bunch of violets, the dew still on their petals, nestling against a bed of deep-green moss. Instinctively Kirsty knew who they were from even before she had picked up the card that came with them. 'Because they match your eyes, G.’ And her heart gave a silly, breath-catching lurch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A couple of days later the weather broke and Kirsty took advantage of the time indoors to finish the painting in the bedroom, then they took a morning off to, go into town where Penny chose some pretty floral wallpaper and matching curtain material. It was rather expensive and Penny demurred at first, but Kirsty insisted that they buy it; the room was to be Penny's, and the younger girl had been so patient and uncomplaining during her illness when Kirsty had been forced to leave her alone while she got on with the garden that Kirsty felt she, deserved this small treat.

  Buying the wallpaper was one thing, but Kirsty found that trying to hang it on the uneven walls of the cottage was something else entirely, and she got into a hopeless mess, but luckily Dave Pagett called in one evening and came to her rescue. He had got into the habit of dropping in every now and again, mostly in the evenings, but occasionally when he wasn't busy in the morning he would walk along from the garage for a coffee. They teased him that he only came to sample Penny's delicious cakes, and he laughingly agreed, but they all knew that as soon as Penny was well enough he would ask her to go out with him.

  Kirsty deliberated on whether she ought to have a quiet word with him and warn him about her sister's previous unhappy romance, but Dave seemed in no hurry to push things along, being content that they should get to know each other as friends first, and gradually Kirsty's doubts began to disappear. She realised that Dave was man enough to see for himself that Penny still sometimes withdrew into a shell and to guess at the reason, and that he was quite capable of handling the situation without her help. Biding his time until he thought Penny was ready and knew him well enough to realise that she wouldn't be hurt again.

  Thinking of a possible romance for Penny inevitably led to thoughts of her own. Lately Simon had become more obdurate in his demands for her to come to London for a weekend, but Kirsty insisted that she couldn't yet leave Penny by herself. She was compelled, though, to promise that she would as soon as she was able. And it wasn't until some time later that she realised that the promise had been forced out of her. Although when she had moved here she had been sure that she would miss London terribly, she now found that she seldom gave it a thought; there was so much to do to the cottage and garden that her every waking moment was filled, and she had learnt to live without the shops and entertainments when she could look out of her window every morning to see the trees bursting into leaf and watch her plants pushing their way through the earth. A sort of exhilaration filled her as she saw the garden gradually taking shape while she used the bricks from the chimney to lay patterned paths and pulled the weeds out of the front beds to give the flowers a chance to grow. It was hard work, but she felt well, and happier than she had ever expected to be.

  And Simon? Did she miss him? When she pondered that question she found that she just didn't know the answer. Certainly she looked forward to talking to him on the phone and would have been pleased if he'd come down to visit them, but she knew that she was far more reluctant to consider giving up the cottage,

  not only for Penny's sake, but for her own. And when Simon finally forced her to make a choice, she had no idea which it would be.

  As soon as the weather cleared Kirsty made a start on cutting the inside of the front hedge, piling the dip-, pings on the already large stack in the back garden that she really would have to burn as soon as it dried out. She saw several people she knew as they went past on their way into town, and once Gyles drove by in a silver-grey Rolls-Royce instead of his usual Range-Rover. He saw her and waved but didn't stop, and Kirsty found herself fighting down a feeling of disappointment. She told herself it was only because she had wanted to thank him for the violets and wondered why he had bothered to send them at All if he didn't intend to follow them up. Perhaps, she conjectured, he now regretted what was probably an impulsive action. But somehow she thought that Gyles would never do anything without a reason.

  But any disappointment she might have felt disappeared completely the next morning. The door k
nocker thundered very early while they were still having breakfast, and when she went to open it Kirsty found Gyles standing on the doorstep. She started to say good morning, but one glance at the harsh, angry look on his face and the words died in her throat.

  'I want a word with you,' he said grimly, and catching hold of her arm pulled her out of the doorway and began to march her down the path,

  'What is it? What's the matter?' She tried to twist round to face him, but he propelled her out of the garden and pushed her into his Range-Rover which was waiting outside. Getting in beside her, he started the engine and drove fast up the lane, his face a grim mask.

  'Will you please tell me what's going on?' Then as he still sat and ignored her, Kirsty began to get angry. "Look, you have no right to just drag me into your car "like this without a word! If you don't.

  But Gyles turned to her, his eyes furious. 'Shut up I If you don't want me to lose my temper completely, then just keep quiet.'

  Kirsty stared at him, frightened by the depth of his anger and wondering what on earth she'd done to arouse it. She soon found out. He turned out of the lane and into a long single-track driveway with the name Manor Farm on a signboard, and pulled up in a large farmyard. But he hardly even gave her time to look round before he had yanked her out of the vehicle and was pulling her across to a large barn. Several people were standing near a doorway at the far end and they looked at her in open curiosity, hut Gyles ignored them and hurried her inside. She found herself in a section of the barn partitioned off from the main part; it had been painted white and there was fresh, dean straw on the floor. The place smelt of antiseptic and reminded her vaguely of a hospital. There were four or five men already there and two of them, who wore white coats, were on their knees and working on a Jersey cow which lay on the straw and was obviously in pain, judging from the terrible noises that the poor creature made. All the men turned towards her as . Gyles pulled her in and Kirsty recoiled at the contempt and disgust in the looks they gave her. One of them even deliberately turned his back on her. She knew then that something was wrong, appallingly wrong, and that concerned her. But how?