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Take What You Want
Anne Mather


Mills & Boon are excited to present The Anne Mather Collection – the complete works by this classic author made available to download for the very first time! These books span six decades of a phenomenal writing career, and every story is available to read unedited and untouched from their original release. The Duque’s willing captive…Sophie has always adored her step-brother Robert. But her whole family disapproves, and are determined to do everything in their power to discourage any kind of union! Only the fact that he seems to feel for her too gives Sophie any hope at all.But now Robert has produced a fiancée who appears to have a hold over him and Sophie fears she’ll never be able to compete…










Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!


I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com (mailto:mystic-am@msn.com) and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.




Take What You Want

Anne Mather







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover (#u11904c75-1c4d-5cc4-8e38-82fc2b0e549f)

About the Author (#u986014db-68c8-59ac-8068-b21bb2ef7f58)

Title Page (#u327e0c3b-6947-5884-acd6-747d5eeab25e)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#u1b133f23-1451-5722-8cc4-30bd9e8f91a9)


SOPHIE shifted her weight from one foot to the other, aware that her every move was being monitored by the two soldiers squatting on their suitcases a few feet away. The train was crowded with holidaymakers, and not having had the opportunity to book a seat, Sophie had had to spend the journey jammed up against her cases in the no-man’s-land area between two of the compartments. Not that she had minded. She was too excited at the prospect of going home to care to spend several hours sitting absolutely still, and although two men had offered her their seats she had politely declined. Still, their gesture confirmed her growing maturity, she reflected, and even in the bottle-green skirt and matching school blazer, she looked like a young woman. She had been aware for some time now that men found her physically attractive, and although she had always enjoyed the knowledge she was only now beginning to appreciate its advantages.

A young woman carrying a baby passed on her way to the toilet compartment and Sophie squeezed her slender body further into her corner, refusing to acknowledge the sympathetic smiles of the soldiers. One of them had already offered her a cigarette which she had refused, and while she accepted that they were harmless enough she wanted no complications to interrupt her daydreams of her reunion with Robert.

It was eighteen months since she had seen Robert, eighteen months since he had held her and kissed her and shaken her small world to its core …

But he was to be home these holidays. Her father had written and told her so. Of course, Simon would be there, too, and in spite of her preference for her older stepbrother, she had always found Simon an easier conquest, and consequently had used him shamelessly.

Robert was different. Robert was unpredictable. But with Robert she shared an affinity. Robert—who had taught her to ride and swim and play tennis, who had talked to her as an equal about his plans and ambitions, who had first interested her in books and music and poetry.

She peered out at the green countryside flashing by the windows of the train. She could remember clearly the first time she had seen Robert. Her mother had died when she was born and her father, a busy London doctor, had employed a series of housekeepers to look after them. But it hadn’t worked. He had had too little time to spend with his small daughter and realising that without a mother either the child was being neglected, he had thrown up his London practice and moved to Conwynneth, a village not far from Hereford on the Welsh borders. Here life moved at a much more leisurely pace and Doctor Kemble relaxed and felt young again and involved himself and his small daughter in the social life of the community.

Laura Ydris was a widow with two sons. She ran the small inn in the village single-handed since her husband had been killed two years previously in a road accident. Her younger son, Simon, was twelve, while the elder boy, Robert, was sixteen. Both boys attended the grammar school in Hereford.

Sophie’s father began spending a lot of time at the inn, and it was no real surprise to anybody when he and Laura decided to get married. Sophie had been four at that time, round and plump and inclined to be shy of strangers, her short fair hair framing chubby features.

From the very beginning, Sophie had taken to her stepmother. Laura was nothing like the wicked stepmothers redolent of fairy tales. She was small, too, dark and vivacious, and she won Sophie’s heart completely when she confided that she had always wanted a little girl of her own to care for.

The problems, were there to have been any, might have occurred with the two boys. But both Robert and Simon had realised that their mother was finding it very hard keeping the inn going alone, and they were glad she was going to be able to give up working and have a real home again. Besides, they liked Doctor Kemble and were old enough to appreciate their parents’ mutual needs. Sophie had been in her element having two older brothers suddenly provided for her. They had spoilt her, she realised that now, but at the time she had seen nothing selfish in demanding their undivided attention.

Sophie had met Simon first. Robert was away in Switzerland on a school holiday when the engagement was first announced, and by the time he came home Sophie and Simon were quite good friends. It was a novelty for the boys to have a sister, too, but from the minute Sophie encountered her elder stepbrother’s steady gaze she had become his devoted admirer. He was a popular boy, usually in the company of a crowd of young people, but he was never too busy to talk to Sophie. And girl-friends, in particular, grew impatient at having to compete with a child!

In two years, Robert went away to university, and the rambling old house which Doctor Kemble had bought at the time of his second marriage had suddenly seemed terribly quiet. For four years Sophie had had to accept that she only saw Robert in the holidays, but when he graduated he came back to Conwynneth to work for an engineering firm in Hereford.

By this time Simon was starting at university, but Sophie didn’t miss Simon half so much. Besides, she had Robert back again, and at twelve years old Sophie found her mature stepbrother absolutely fascinating. She was just becoming aware of herself as a female creature and she didn’t altogether understand why she felt curious pains in her stomach whenever Robert looked at her in a certain way or why, when he went out with girls, she felt sick and restless.

She was utterly shattered therefore when her father suddenly announced that she was to be sent away to boarding school. She didn’t want to go to boarding school. That would mean only seeing Robert in the holidays again, and she was mature enough to realise that he could conceivably get married while she was at school.

But for once her father and stepmother were immune from her desperate appeals, and even Robert seemed cool and aloof, unwilling to offer her his support. She had to go, and for the first term she spent every night in tears, impervious to the sympathy offered her by would-be confidantes.

Gradually, though, she began to realise that crying was not going to get her anywhere. Her most sensible plan would be to work especially hard, pass every examination in sight and get back to Conwynneth as soon as she possibly could.

But while she worked her way through school, word reached her that Robert’s career was expanding. He was an intelligent man and he had been offered a better position with a London-based firm of constructional engineers with world wide connections. He leased an apartment in London and then went on his first overseas assignment to Central Africa. It meant that when Sophie went home for two lots of holidays she didn’t see him at all, and she spent the time mooching about the house, refusing even to join Simon and his friends on a camping expedition to the Lake District. She knew that her parents were concerned about her, but hoped they didn’t know what was depressing her.

She took her Ordinary Level examinations at fifteen and succeeded in getting eleven passes, much to the delight and admiration of her family and her teachers. The Christmas holidays that followed, Robert was home again and joining his family for the festivities, and his congratulations meant more to her than anyone else’s had done. And it was during those holidays that Robert had kissed her …

Her fingers curled into her palms. The Kembles had had guests for Christmas, friends of her father’s from London, two couples and their five children. She suspected her father had invited them deliberately in an effort to arouse her from the apathy she had shown in the summer vacation. But with Robert staying in the house, Sophie was far from apathetic.

The other teenagers, a girl of sixteen and four boys whose ages ranged from thirteen to eighteen, were all right, but so far as Sophie was concerned they were pretty callow compared to her handsome stepbrothers. Even Simon, who at twenty-three was now teaching at the junior school in Conwynneth, was a more interesting proposition. Sophie had been brought up with adults and consequently her tastes were more mature. She enjoyed pop music, of course, and talking about current teenage idols, but thanks to Robert she was equally at home with Mahler and Isaac Stern.

Over the festive occasion, she joined in all the fun and games instituted in the main for the younger people’s benefit, but all the while she was intensely conscious of Robert in the background—and the girl he had brought with him from London. She was a secretary, so her stepmother had told her, working in the London office of the company which employed Robert; but Sophie didn’t like her.

Not that she had any concrete reasons for not doing so. None she could put her finger on, that was. On the contrary, Emma, as the girl was called, was pretty and friendly, no different from a dozen other girls Robert had brought to Penn Warren during the years of Sophie’s adolescence.

But there was something about the way she looked at Robert that troubled Sophie. At times she caught Emma watching him with a purely speculative gleam in her eyes, and she had the distinct suspicion that Emma would not be so easy to shake off. And then something happened which drove all other considerations out of her mind …

On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day the Kembles and their guests had enjoyed the family festivities, but on Boxing Night they always had a party. Several people from the village were invited including the local vet and his wife, some farmers and their wives, and even the vicar put in an appearance. There was lots to eat and drink and the long buffet tables which Laura and Mrs. Forrest, her daily, had arranged groaned beneath the weight of cold chickens and turkey, ham and tongue, pies and pastries of all kinds. An enormous dish of trifle was flanked by an equally enormous plum pudding, and there was wine and punch as well as all kinds of spirits.

Sophie wore the dress her parents had given her for Christmas. It was her first long dress, apart from a couple of hostess gowns she had used for parties at school, and as it was made of honey-brown velvet it gave her a golden look. A holiday in Spain with her parents three months ago had left a golden tan on her skin and as she wore little make-up apart from eyeshadow and an apricot lip salve her whole appearance toned with the dress. Her hair was long now, but as straight as ever, which fortunately was fashionable. When she surveyed herself in her mirror before going downstairs she knew she looked adult, and the look in Robert’s eyes when he had first seen her had sent the blood rushing madly through her veins. Then he had assumed his usual affectionate tolerance towards her and told her she would have all the boys chasing her. It was not what she had wanted to hear, but Emma’s quickly disguised envy had made up in some strange way for her stepbrother’s apparent indifference.

From time to time during the course of the evening, she had thought she felt-Robert’s eyes upon her, but every time she turned to look at him he was talking to someone else. He didn’t even ask her for a dance, and she hid her disappointment as she had always done by teasing Simon. Not that Simon seemed to mind. On the contrary, when he held her close on the dance floor Sophie sensed that he was not just pretending to enjoy it. His behaviour obviously piqued the other girls there, older girls like Vicky Page, the vet’s daughter, who was attracted by both the doctor’s stepsons.

It was quite late when Sophie realised that Robert had disappeared, and her heart pounded as she looked round for Emma. But Emma was still there, dancing with Harold Venables, a farmer from Apsdale, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

As though her stepmother had just become aware that Robert was missing, too, Laura approached her and Simon at that moment and said: ‘Simon, be a darling and dance with Vicky, won’t you? She’s been looking at you with cow’s eyes for the last hour and a half. And you, Sophie—go and find Robert! He’s probably in your father’s study. You know how he gets bored at these affairs.’

So Sophie had left the party and gone along the hall to her father’s study, and sure enough, Robert was there, stretched out in her father’s chair, his feet resting lazily on the desk, reading a manual on structural engineering. He looked up when she entered the room and his eyes were wary.

‘Your mother sent me to find you,’ Sophie had said, feeling rather like an intruder.

Robert did not bother to get up but sat there regarding her with steady grey eyes. ‘Did she?’

‘Yes.’ Sophie had hovered uncertainly by the door. ‘Are you coming back to join the rest of us?’

‘I don’t think so, thanks.’

He had returned his attentions to the book as though that was the end of the matter, and Sophie had been annoyed. He had dismissed her without even a word of apology.

With a determined set to her mouth she had entered the study and closed the door and walked round the desk to where he was stretched out. When he eventually became aware of her standing there in front of him, he had looked up again and said resignedly: ‘Run away and enjoy yourself, Sophie. I’m perfectly happy here. I’ve no intention of getting myself plastered when I have to drive back to London in the morning.’

Sophie had stared at him angrily, upset at the realisation that he would be leaving in a few hours and it might be months before she saw him again. ‘Don’t you think you’re being rather boorish?’ she had demanded. ‘Sitting here alone like some temperamental prima donna!’

Robert had smiled at this, a lazy mocking smile that did nothing for her temper. Controlling a desire to slap his lean intelligent face, she had said: ‘You haven’t even danced with me!’

Robert’s eyes had flickered then. ‘You have boys of your own age to dance with,’ he pointed out. ‘And besides, Simon is more than eager to accommodate you.’

Sophie had really lost her temper then and she had snatched the book from him and thrown it aside, grasping his hands and trying to pull him up out of the chair. But he had resisted, dragging her down instead, down on to his knee, on to the hard muscles of his thighs, and he had kissed her in an urgent adult way that had sent the blood flaming along her veins and her senses spinning. Under that passionate assault her lips had parted and her fingers had slid up to his neck where the thick dark hair brushed his collar. When he had finally let her go, her legs had been like jelly and his face had been pale and shaken. He had muttered a rough apology and left her, and she had known then that things between them could never be the same again.

She had not seen Robert again before he left for London. The following morning she had intended to be up early, but exhaustion after the strenuous evening had taken its toll and by the time she came downstairs both Robert and Emma had gone.

Her faint hopes that she might see him before returning to boarding school were dashed by a telephone call to her stepmother informing them that Robert was leaving for the Far East at the end of the week, and she had returned to school feeling more depressed than before.

But all that had been eighteen months ago now. During that time Sophie had matured considerably, and although the holidays she had spent with her parents had been at times when Robert was away on some job or other, she had consoled herself with the thought that he was giving her time to grow up before involving himself more deeply. After all, she had had the sense to realise that their parents would never have countenanced any kind of a relationship between them while she was still at school. But now her schooldays were over. She had six months to decide whether or not to apply for university entrance next year, and during those six months …

She sighed, raising her shoulders in a little self-satisfied gesture before letting them fall again. A lot could happen in six months and in less than an hour she would see Robert again.

She turned back from the window and encountered the admiring gaze of one of the soldiers. The message in his eyes was unmistakable and it gave her a warm feeling inside to know that she was attractive. Surely Robert must see the difference in her, the way her breasts had swelled, the narrowness of her waist, the provocative curve of her hips. Laura had promised these holidays that she would buy her a whole new wardrobe suitable to a young woman who had successfully gained three ‘A’ levels and who was leaving the school portals for good. She intended to buy some long feminine clothes, skirts and dresses and trouser suits, that accentuated her femininity rather than detracted from it.

She looked out of the window again and her stomach plunged. The tracks were widening out into shunting yards, they passed a signal box that indicated that Hereford station was not too far distant. Glory, they were almost there!

She looked down at her feet. Her two cases stood side by side along with the school briefcase which contained all her books. She had had quite a struggle along Paddington station until a friendly porter, busy with the pigskin luggage of a rather haughty-looking middle-aged woman, had taken pity on her and hefted her cases on to his trolley and deposited them by the open door of the second class compartment for no charge, much to his employer’s annoyance.

‘Can I give you a hand?’

It was one of the soldiers. They were running into Hereford station now and Sophie’s attention was diverted from scanning the platform with heightening excitement.

‘What—oh, well, I’m sure I can manage,’ she demurred, half impatiently, but the young man was persistent.

‘It’s no trouble,’ he insisted, shaking his head. ‘We all get out here. Is someone meeting you?’

Sophie cast a hasty look at the barrier as the train slowed. ‘I should think so.’

The soldier grinned, ‘We should be so lucky!’

She smiled at this, and then with a lurch the train ground to a halt and she rolled down the window and lent out to open the door.

They were among the first to emerge into the humid, diesel-clogged air of late afternoon. The two soldiers had taken charge of a suitcase each and Sophie was left with only her briefcase to carry. Their attentions had distracted her and she was fumbling for her ticket when a cool, masculine voice said: ‘Hello, Sophie. It’s good to see you again.’

Sophie looked up, her colour rising, her hands beginning to tremble uncontrollably. She hadn’t see his approach and she felt a ridiculous sense of resentment towards the two soldiers who had deprived her of that. But he hadn’t changed—at least, not a lot. He was perhaps a little leaner than she remembered, and had his grey eyes always had that steel edge to them? His tanned features bore witness to the months he had spent in warmer climes, and his hair was thicker and fell in a heavy swathe across his forehead. Heavy-lidded eyes, narrow cheekbones, a mouth that right now looked thin and uncompromising. And tall—dwarfing even her five feet six inches. He was wearing tightfitting jeans and an open-necked denim shirt and he exuded an aura of strength and disturbing masculinity. And yet for all that, she sensed that he was suppressing anger. But why? Did he imagine she had picked up the two soldiers who were now exchanging glances and clearly wishing they had not offered their services?

Sophie made a helpless little movement of her shoulders. This was not how she had planned their reunion to be. She had waited over a year for this. She would not allow anyone to spoil it.

With a determination born of desperation she dropped her briefcase and ignoring everyone but Robert, she stepped close to him and threw her arms round his neck, pressing her lips to his mouth. Because of the unexpectedness of her action, Robert’s hands came up automatically to close around her forearms to prevent them from overbalancing, but within seconds their pressure had hardened and he was thrusting her roughly away from him.

‘Sophie!’ he muttered angrily, and the two soldiers set down her cases and with embarrassed smiles walked on. ‘Sophie, for God’s sake!’ He raked a hand through his hair and cast a swift look around them to assure himself that they were not under observation.

Sophie was unrepentant. In spite of his anger, just for a moment Robert’s mouth had responded to hers, and it was sufficient to convince her that he was not indifferent to her. So she smiled, a lovely, confident smile that widened her mouth and filled her green eyes with tawny lights. ‘What did you expect?’ she asked mockingly. ‘That we should shake hands?’

Robert looked down at her impatiently. ‘Is this all your luggage?’

Sophie glanced round. ‘Mmm.’ Then she looked up at him again. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me, Robert?’

He made an irritated gesture. ‘Of course I’m glad to see you, Sophie. I already said so.’ He picked up the two cases. ‘Can you manage the briefcase?’

Sophie sighed and obediently picked it up. ‘Yes, I can manage, thank you.’

Robert cast another unsmiling look in her direction and then strode away down the platform so that she had, perforce, to hurry to keep up with him. Once through the barrier, he led the way outside and halted beside a steel grey sports saloon parked in the yard. It was even more humid outside beneath the lowering clouds that were threatening rain, but to Sophie it was heaven to be back home again.

She spread her arms extravagantly and then concentrated her attention on the vehicle. ‘This is new, isn’t it?’ she commented admiringly. ‘What is it? An Aston Martin?’

‘No. A Jensen,’ stated Robert flatly, stowing her cases in the boot. ‘Get in. It’s not locked.’

Shrugging, Sophie opened the long door and climbed into the low passenger seat with its curved back and headrest. The instrument panel fascinated her and she was examining the various controls when Robert opened his door and levered his length in beside her. Immediately all else lost significance and she wondered what he would do if she attempted to kiss him again. It was a tantalising proposition and she turned sideways in her seat to look at him.

‘You’d better fasten the safety strap,’ he observed curtly, apparently unmoved by her scrutiny, and with an exclamation she swung round and did as she was told. She quelled the urge to make some insolent retort and looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, she said:

‘This is a super car, isn’t it? I wish I could drive.’

‘I expect your father will arrange for you to take lessons now that you’ve finished school,’ he remarked coolly, inserting the ignition key and starting the powerful engine. He opened his window and looked out, reversing expertly out of the parking space. ‘Congratulations, by the way. I hear you did well in your finals.’

Sophie pressed her lips together. ‘Thanks!’

The sarcasm in her tone must have got through to him, because he frowned and said: ‘Now what’s the matter? I wasn’t being patronising. I think you’ve got a good chance of making Oxford, don’t you?’

Sophie sniffed. ‘I don’t want to talk about school and examinations! I’ve just left all that behind!’ She moved restlessly and then turned to look at him appealingly. ‘How are you, Robert? How long have you been home? And how long are you staying this time?’

Robert concentrated on negotiating the busy late afternoon traffic, but when they reached a quieter thoroughfare, he replied: ‘I’m well. And actually, I’ve been in England a couple of months. I’m working in North Wales at the moment. We’re swinging a rail link out across the Sound to the Isle of Cymtraeth.’

‘You are?’ Sophie’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s marvellous! You must get home practically every weekend.’

Robert’s hands tightened on the wheel. ‘Not every weekend, Sophie,’ he amended dryly. ‘I do have other calls on my time.’

Sophie wriggled into a more comfortable position, watching him surreptitiously. He was so cool and aloof. She couldn’t get near to him, mentally at least, and her physical attempt hadn’t met with much success either.

‘How is everyone?’ she asked, determinedly trying to ignore his detachment. ‘Are Daddy and Mummy okay? And Simon?’ She forced a smile. ‘I had a letter from Simon only last week.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Why did you never write to me, Robert? I thought you would.’

Robert ignored her last question and said: ‘The parents are fine, and Simon seems quite content to remain at Conwynneth school for the rest of his life.’

‘Why not? He’s happy there,’ commented Sophie thoughtfully. ‘He’s not restless. Not like you!’

Robert swung past a lumbering wagon. ‘Is that what I am?’

‘Among other things,’ she retorted sourly. ‘Well, aren’t you? You weren’t content to stay in Hereford, were you? I’m sure Simmonds didn’t want to lose you.’

Robert shrugged. ‘I was offered a better job with more money and the chance to see something of the world before I was too old to enjoy it. I don’t see anything particularly restless in that. No doubt you’ll feel the same.’

‘I shan’t!’

‘How do you know?’

Sophie stared through the car windows. They were leaving the outskirts of the town behind, climbing into the hills. In spite of the darkening skies the countryside opening up before them was green and beautiful, splashed here and there with the dark clutches of forest which had provided cover for fugitives since the days of the Conqueror. The Welsh Marches! Sophie savoured the words. She might have been born in London, but this was her home, her heritage.

‘I’m not the—adventurous type,’ she answered him at last. ‘I’m basically a home-lover.’ She examined her fingernails. ‘Of course, if I were to get married, and—and my husband’s work took him overseas …’

There was a pregnant pause, and then Robert said abruptly: ‘As a matter of fact, Sophie——’

But he got no further. An ominous rumble of thunder echoed and re-echoed round the hills and he was instantly aware of her stiffening and of the shudder which ran through her.

‘You’re nervous of storms, aren’t you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Don’t be alarmed. You’re perfectly safe in the car.’

‘I know it. I’m sorry.’ Sophie tried to act naturally even though storms had always terrified her. ‘Please go on. What were you going to say?’

Robert glanced sideways at her and there was a curious expression twisting his lips. Then he shook his head and said something entirely unexpected: ‘Who were those soldiers at the station?’

Sophie gasped. ‘No one I knew. I had to stand all the way from Paddington. They shared the same cubbyhole, that’s all.’ A smile came through. ‘They insisted on carrying my cases. I can’t imagine why. Can you?’

Robert’s expression softened slightly. ‘Stop fishing,’ he ordered dryly. Then, as a huge globule of rain splashed against the windscreen: ‘Well, like it or not, here it comes!’

Within seconds they were engulfed in a torrential downpour that even the efficient wipers found difficult to cope with. Lightning streaked across the sky with a brilliance that artificially illuminated the brooding hills, and a deafening crash of thunder seemed almost completely overhead. Sophie’s palms were moist, clasped together in her lap, and she was trying desperately not to give in to the terror which filled her. But suddenly, Robert pulled the car off the road on to a grassy lay-by and releasing his safety belt switched off the engine.

‘It’s pointless going on in this,’ he explained in answer to the silent appeal in her eyes. ‘We’d have to crawl, and it won’t last long. It’s only a summer storm. You should be used to them by now.’

Sophie drew a deep breath. ‘I know. I’m a fool.’ She trembled as she pressed the release catch of her safety belt and turned sideways in her seat towards him, drawing her legs up under her. His profile was unyielding and yet she had to suppress an almost irresistible impulse to stroke her fingers down his cheek. ‘Well, at least it gives us time to talk,’ she said rather breathlessly. ‘You can tell me what you were going to say.’

‘Yes.’ Robert leant forward and picked up a pack of Benson and Hedges, putting a cigarette between his lips almost absently. He flicked his lighter, applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette and leaned back in his seat, inhaling deeply.

After a few moments he turned to look at her, his gaze travelling over her intently. Then he took his cigarette out of his mouth and studied the glowing shreds of tobacco with equal intensity. Another rumble of thunder sent the adrenalin rushing through Sophie’s veins. Robert’s attitude didn’t help. She was aware of the tautness in the atmosphere, and wondered that it was that was hardening his jawline. She looked down at her knees and saw that her twisting movements had loosened two buttons on her blouse which, like all her school clothes, was getting too small for her. With burning cheeks her fingers sped to fasten the offending buttons, but her hands trembled so much that they fumbled over the task. A rising sense of emotionalism brought the tears to the backs of her eyes. What was the matter with her? What was the matter with him? What had happened to that affinity between them?

With a curt exclamation, Robert had grown tired of watching her unsteady ineptitude, and putting his cigarette between his lips he pushed her fingers aside and tackled the buttons himself.

But before he had the time to fasten them it seemed that everything exploded around them. A shaft of lightning struck a tree only a few yards ahead, splitting its trunk without apparent effort. Overhead the thunder was an ear-rending volume of noise, and the violence of the torrent which fell in a great curtain obscuring all but their most immediate surroundings was drowned as the heavens resounded menacingly.

Sophie trembled uncontrollably and with an oath Robert pulled her towards him, putting his arms around her and pressing her close to his hard warm body.

‘Calm down,’ he exlaimed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and pressing it out in the ashtray. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. Believe me!’

‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ she whispered huskily, her cheek against the rough texture of his shirt. ‘But I hate storms. I’m not pretending. Don’t be angry.’

‘I’m not angry,’ he retorted in exasperated tones, drawing back to look down at her. ‘Here, let me fasten those damn buttons.’

She looked up at him as his fingers busied themselves near her midriff and almost against his will her eyes encountered his. He stared down at her for a long disturbing moment and then she covered his hands with hers, stilling their activity, holding them closely against her.

‘Sophie!’ he protested thickly, trying to pull away, but she held his gaze and reaching up, put her mouth to his. For several agonising moments he resisted, and then his fingers slid beneath her blouse, closing on the firm flesh, propelling her against him with almost desperate urgency. He was trembling now, she could feel it, and his mouth moved on hers, parting her lips, seeking to penetrate the moist sweetness within. Sophie was oblivious to the storm. Her arms were around his neck, touching the smooth skin of his shoulders beneath his shirt, tangling themselves in the thick darkness of the hair on his nape. This was what she had dreamed about—this was where she had longed to be all those months when she had been working at her studies, taking exams, pretending to enjoy the social round of school life. There had been boys there—it was a mixed school. But Sophie’s relationships with boys had remained purely platonic and none of them had aroused the slightest interest in her. Yet she only had to see Robert, to touch him, to feel an aching, melting weakness inside her …

At last he pushed her away from him, breathing heavily, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting one with none of the precision he had exhibited earlier. He inhaled deeply and then, resting his head back, he said: ‘Oh, God!’ in self-derisory tones.

Sophie ran a hand up to her throat and pulled off the tie which seemed so incongruous after what had just occurred. She folded it and thrust it into the pocket of her blazer. Then she fastened her blouse and tucked it back into her skirt before looking at him again.

‘Robert——’ she began, but he shook his head.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he commanded, drawing on the cigarette again. ‘Don’t say anything. Just give me a minute to think straight.’ He exhaled unsteadily. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have allowed your father to persuade me to come and meet you.’

‘To—persuade—you?’ Sophie stared at him. ‘Did you need much—persuasion?’

She sounded hurt and he shook his head impatiently now. ‘No—no, I suppose not. God, Sophie—you’re my sister——’

‘Stepsister,’ she corrected him tautly.

‘All right, all right, my stepsister.’ Robert raked a hand through his hair, staring out at the unceasing curtain of rain. ‘Even so, you know this is—ridiculous!’

‘Ridiculous?’ Sophie felt unsure of her ground. For a few moments she had been confident that everything was going to be all right, but now … ‘Why is it ridiculous?’

‘Don’t be naïve, Sophie!’ He drew savagely on his cigarette. ‘Look, let’s get this into perspective, shall we? You—that is, the last time we—were together was that Christmas a couple of years ago when I’d had—too much to drink——’

‘That’s not true!’

‘It is true, Sophie. What other reason could there be for—for what happened?’

‘And just now?’

‘Yes. Just now.’ He ran the back of his hand across his damp forehead. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have come. I knew—or at least, I guessed what kind of an emotional scene you’d have built up of that incident between us.’

‘Incident?’

‘Yes, incident, Sophie. For heaven’s sake, what do you expect me to call it? You can have no notion of my feelings after—after touching you. I was sick—really sick to my stomach, do you know that? There was I, a supposedly mature and sensible man of twenty-eight, kissing a kid of sixteen——’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ she denied, a little desperately.

‘Yes, it was. Just like that.’ He raised his eyes heavenward. ‘I despised myself utterly.’

‘Do you despise yourself now?’

He turned his head to look at her. ‘What do you think?’

Sophie moved her shoulders helplessly, feeling the hot prick of tears behind her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Don’t you?’ Robert seemed to be enjoying taunting her. ‘My God, Sophie, do you know what you just did?’ He uttered a mirthless laugh. ‘You’re a beautiful girl. That’s no excuse, I know, but it does help.’

‘Does it?’

‘Oh, stop it,’ he muttered, straightening to squash out his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘You know what you did as well as I do. You’re fully aware why those two Army kids offered to carry your cases. I never realised before what a menace you might be.’

‘Stop trying to hurt me.’

‘Why should I? You don’t seem to care who you hurt, do you? Oh, lord, Sophie, stop looking so tragic!’ He was gradually recovering his sense of humour. ‘All right, I apologise for what happened. I guess it was my fault.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘All right, if you don’t want an apology I won’t make one. I’m sorry. I was forgetting what a permissive society we live in!’

Her fingers stung across his cheek and she sat in horror staring at the marks of her fingers appearing against the tanned flesh. She caught her breath. ‘Oh, Robert,’ she exclaimed, starting to cry. ‘I’m sorry …’

Robert took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. ‘It’s all right, Sophie,’ he said steadily. ‘Look, I think we’d better start all over again, hmm?’ He paused. ‘You’ve got rid of all that pent-up emotionalism and I’ve given myself a—well, we won’t go into that. Perhaps your father was right. Perhaps it was as well to come and meet you after all. Get all this foolishness out of your system right at the beginning——’

‘My father?’ Sophie dried her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. ‘What does my father know about this? What do you mean?’

Robert sighed. ‘Naturally I told him what had happened.’

‘You—didn’t!’

‘Why not? Good God, Sophie, how many more times do I have to tell you? I was sick of myself. I had to give some reason for not coming back to Penn Warren while you were there.’

‘But—but—there was that job in the Far East …’

‘There was no job. At least, not for a couple of months anyway. Sophie, I had to tell him. I was ashamed …’

‘Ashamed?’ Sophie moved her head from side to side. This couldn’t be happening—not after—not after the way he had kissed her … ‘Oh,. Robert, I’ll never forgive you!’

‘I’m not asking for your forgiveness! Hell, I’m just trying to show you the way things really are. I don’t want you to go on imagining that what happened that Christmas—well, that it was anything more than a fleeting impulse——’

‘It was!’ she cried.

Robert shook his head resignedly. ‘No, Sophie.’ He sighed. ‘I thought you were more mature. I was your first—experience, but you certainly weren’t mine! And that’s all it was, Sophie—an experience.’

‘Not for me,’ she declared chokingly. ‘Oh, I don’t know how you can say such things after—after what just happened.’

‘Oh, God, Sophie! I’m only human. You invited what just happened, you know you did. I’m not proud of it, but how was I to know——’ He broke off and made an impatient gesture. ‘I wanted to comfort you, Sophie—because of the storm. I’ve comforted you before—remember? As I recall it, you once came to my bed in the middle of the night because of a storm. You were about eight years old at the time. You were petrified. I let you stay with me, I put my arms about you—just as I did just now. What happened afterwards was not of my instigation.’

‘You’re hateful!’ she exclaimed in a muffled voice, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms round her drawn-up legs. ‘I—I never thought you could be so—so cruel, Robert.’

Robert raked his hair back again with a vehemence that spoke of his frustration. He glared out at the storm and made a sound of relief that at last the rain was easing and watery rays of sun were casting spears of rainbow colour across the lake that lay below them in the valley. He leant forward and turned the ignition, breathing a sigh of satisfaction as the powerful engine leapt to instant life. Glancing through the rearview mirror, he drove off the grassy verge and on to the rain-soaked road, controlling the skidding of tyres caked with mud.

‘You’d better tidy yourself,’ he commented briefly, as they began the descent into the valley. Conwynneth lay in a fold of the hills and already it was possible to see the grey roofs of the cottages that edged the village green. ‘Or do you want to have to explain what’s been happening?’

Sophie pushed her feet to the floor and fumbled in her pocket for her tie. As she slotted it under the collar of her blouse and fastened it carelessly, her lips were pressed tightly together. She guessed that Robert saw her expression as mutinous. He was not to know that had she not pressed her lips together they would have trembled violently. She felt sick and shaken, and totally unprepared for the confrontation with the family which was to come. All her hopes and fantasies about Robert had been shattered during the last half hour and the last thing she wanted was to have to make any unnecessary explanations. What she really wanted to do was to crawl away somewhere and hide until her wounds had healed a little.




CHAPTER TWO (#u1b133f23-1451-5722-8cc4-30bd9e8f91a9)


PENN WARREN was a rambling old house which stood on the outskirts of the village. The Kembles had modernised it to the extent of adding decent plumbing and an efficient central heating system, but much of its atmosphere remained in the oak panelling and wide stone fireplaces. As the boys grew up they constantly seemed to be giving themselves crippling blows on low beams, and yet, for all that, none of them would have had it any different.

To Sophie, it spelled the days of her childhood and adolescence. Long summer days swimming or fishing with the boys, playing cricket or tennis in the huge, partially overgrown garden of the house, autumn with its fires and roasted chestnuts, winter when the snow coated the trees outside and they had all sat round a glowing peat fire drinking mugs of mulled ale. She had always been happy there, and it was doubly hard for her to accept that that happiness had depended so completely on her love for Robert.

She awoke on the morning after her return from school with an unfamiliar feeling of depression causing a dull little ache behind her eyes. She lay for a few minutes wondering what had caused it, and then recollection of the events of the day before came back to her and she rolled on to her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. Oh, God, she thought desperately, what am I going to do?

It had been almost dinner time when she arrived the night before. To her relief, her father was out on a call, and only Laura and Simon had been there to greet her. She thought of Simon with affection. He had been so reassuringly normal—so delighted to see her—so good-natured and kind and sweet. He had made things much easier for her, and although at times she had caught him watching her with a rather anxious expression in his eyes, she didn’t think her stepmother had noticed anything amiss in her relationship with Robert. By the time her father came home after delivering Mrs. Jones’ fourth, the meal was over and Sophie’s initial nervousness controlled. Robert had gone out straight after dinner. He had made some excuse about promising to go over to the Hall to see John Meredith, the son of the largest local landowner, who had been at university with him, and no one had demurred. Indeed, if Sophie had not been so wrapped up in her own misery she might have noticed that both her stepmother and Simon relaxed more fully once Robert had left them. Instead, she made a great effort to talk gaily about her last few weeks at school, and she was almost sure she had convinced them that she had no greater problem on her mind than whether or not to apply for university entrance before Christmas.

Now she pushed herself up on her elbows and peered at the Noddy clock ticking away on her bedside table. The clock had been a seventh birthday present from the boys and in spite of its incongruity in her teenage bedroom she had never wanted to change it.

She blinked. It couldn’t be half past ten already, could it? Although as she had lain awake for hours listening for the sound of Robert’s car and even after his return had been unable to get to sleep for ages, it was possible that she had overslept. But why had no one awakened her? She hunched her shoulders. And why should she want them to anyway? It was better to be asleep and oblivious of what had happened.

However, she could not stay in bed all day. Besides, she owed it to her parents to pull herself together and act normally. After all, nothing had really changed, that was the amazing thing. Just because her illusions had been shattered did not alter the situation. So far as Robert was concerned, she was still the little sister he had always regarded her.

She forced her mind away from this train of thought. Right now it was almost impossible to accept that never, at any time, had he regarded her in any other light. She would have to accept it, of course, but for the present her most sensible course of action would be to try and behave to him as she had always done. Their relationship had been such a deep and satisfying thing. Surely that had not been destroyed too? Who knows, maybe at some future date he might become attracted to her …

With a determination she had not known she possessed, Sophie bathed and put on her underwear and was rummaging through her wardrobe for her jeans when there was a knock at the door.

‘Who is it?’ she called a little breathlessly, and then expelled her breath more steadily as her stepmother’s head appeared.

‘Oh, you’re up!’ she exclaimed, pushing open the door and entering the room to reveal a tray laden with fruit juice, ham and eggs, toast and marmalade. ‘I was going to give you breakfast in bed. You looked rather tired last night and I told your father you looked as though you could do with a rest.’

Sophie forced a smile. ‘I’m fine, really I am. But it was kind of you, Mummy.’

‘Well, why don’t you put on your dressing gown and pop back into bed?’ suggested Laura, making room on the bedside table for the tray. ‘It’s a dull morning and there’s absolutely nothing for you to get up for. Your father won’t be back from surgery for another half hour and then you can come down and have coffee with him.’

Sophie hesitated. She wasn’t hungry and the prospect of tackling all the food on the tray made her feel slightly sick. But perhaps it was better to hide her lack of appetite up here where she could always dispose of some of it down the lavatory.

‘All right,’ she agreed, pulling on the frilly flowersprigged white wrapper which matched the nightdress she had just shed. ‘I’ll be lazy for once.’

Laura settled the tray across her legs and then stood looking down at her thoughtfully while Sophie manfully swallowed the fruit juice. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked unexpectedly.

Sophie coloured and almost choked on the grapefruit juice. ‘Why—of course,’ she managed, clearing her throat. ‘Shouldn’t I be?’

Laura shook her head. ‘Yes, of course.’ She paused. ‘Graham White came over here last week to enquire when you were due home. I think he’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

Sophie put down her glass. ‘Graham White? Oh, you mean that boy from Trefyddol.’

‘Yes. You know Graham. His father and yours play golf occasionally together.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Conscious of Laura’s gaze Sophie picked up the fork and lifted a tiny button mushroom into her mouth. ‘I don’t know him awfully well. He’s at college, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. He’s just completed his first year.’ Laura bit her lip. ‘I invited him over next weekend, as a matter of fact. I thought you and he might have a game of tennis together.’

‘Oh, Mummy!’ Sophie couldn’t hide her dismay now. ‘I can play tennis with Simon and—and Robert!’

‘I know that. And I’m sure Simon will be only too willing to give you a game, but Robert may be—rather busy.’

Sophie concentrated her attention on her plate. ‘That’s all right, I don’t mind. I can amuse myself.’

‘But you should have friends of your own age, Sophie!’ protested Laura. ‘You’ve spent too much time with Simon and Robert.’

Sophie looked up. ‘Honestly, Mummy, you don’t have to make plans for me. I’m quite capable of entertaining myself.’ She moved her shoulders awkwardly. ‘Actually, I’m thinking of getting a job.’

The idea had only just occurred to her, but Laura was not to know that, and her stepmother’s face assumed an anxious expression.

‘A job, Sophie? Oh, I don’t think your father would want you to do that.’

‘Why not?’ It wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

‘Well——’ Laura spread her hands. ‘You’ve only just finished school. I think he hopes you’ll spend this year before you go to university with us.’

Sophie decided she might as well get hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. ‘I haven’t decided whether I want to go to university yet, Mummy,’ she said quietly.

‘What? Not go to university?’ Laura was horrified. ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Sophie, of course you’re going to university. Your father has great hopes for you. I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of letting him down like that!’

Sophie pursed her lips. ‘University isn’t everything,’ she insisted.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I—I might want to do something else. Get—married, for example.’

‘Married?’ Laura shook her head impatiently. ‘Sophie, you’re talking nonsense, and you know it. Good heavens, you’re only seventeen! You can’t seriously be considering abandoning your studies for—for something as distant as marriage!’

Sophie sniffed. ‘As I said, I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure if you tell this to your father, he’ll be terribly hurt. Sophie, I know he loves the boys—I know he’s always treated them as his own sons, but they’re not—ultimately. You are his daughter. Surely that must mean something to you. Surely you’ll allow him to do for you what he has done for the boys?’

Sophie moved uncomfortably. Laura was right, of course. If she did decide not to go on with her education her father would be very disappointed. Hurt, too, if she was honest.

Sighing, she pushed the tray aside. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I’m not very hungry right now.’

Laura, who had taken a few steps towards the door, came back to the bed. She looked troubled. ‘And I’m sorry, too, Sophie,’ she said heavily. ‘It’s your first morning at home and already I’m upsetting you. I think we’d better leave things as they are for the time being. There’s no hurry, whatever you decide.’

Sophie felt suddenly terribly guilty. ‘Oh, Mummy!’ she exclaimed, and scrambling up on to her knees she hugged the older woman. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you either.’ She drew back to look into her face. ‘But I might get a job, you know. Lots of people do. Even—even if it’s just until I go to—to university.’

Laura’s expression cleared. She looked down at her stepdaughter affectionately. They had always had such a good relationship and she didn’t want to spoil that. There had never been any friction between them, any jealousy over Dr. Kemble or the boys. Nothing must change that.

‘All right, darling,’ she agreed with a smile. ‘We’ll talk about it. But not yet. Give your father a few days to get used to having you back again. He misses you, you know.’

Sophie sat back on her heels. ‘All right.’ She glanced round. ‘And now I think I’d better get dressed. I want to go outside and look around. I always enjoy my first few days at home getting used to things again.’

Laura picked up the tray and left her, apparently reassured by Sophie’s acquiescence. Sophie took off the frilly wrapper and rescued the denim jeans from the back of her wardrobe. Last summer she had taken a bath in them to shrink them to her body, but now she found they scarcely fitted. She had filled out in all the right places, but the jeans didn’t give in the way her skin did. She sighed. They were all she had and they would have to do until she had had time to do some shopping. With a grimace she pulled on a navy blue tee-shirt with a caricature of a once well-loved pop star on the front, and tugged a brush through her long, silvery fair hair.

She encountered Simon on the landing outside his bedroom, and when he saw her he fell back with assumed horror.

‘My God!’ he exclaimed humorously. ‘You don’t intend going outside these four walls in those things, do you?’

Sophie wrinkled her nose at him good-naturedly. ‘Don’t you like the way I look?’

Simon gave a mocking smile. ‘Oh, yes. I like it. But I don’t somehow think your father will.’

Sophie sighed and pulled impatiently at the tightfitting pants. ‘I can’t help it. I shrank them last year and now they’re too small.’

‘Get your coat and I’ll take you into Hereford to buy some more,’ suggested Simon reasonably. ‘I’m free this morning.’

Sophie was tempted, but she hadn’t been downstairs yet. She didn’t know what Robert might be doing. The only thing she could be certain of was that he would surely not ask her to join him.

‘I’m not sure …’ she began awkwardly, and Simon assumed a tolerant expression. ‘Rob’s not in,’ he commented laconically, and she started at the mention of his name. ‘He’s gone sailing with John. They arranged it last night.’

‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Sophie managed to shrug and walked to the head of the stairs. ‘Is Daddy back yet?’ Simon frowned. ‘That sounds like his car now.’ He paused. ‘Shall we go to Hereford?’

Sophie looked back at him. ‘All right. If—if you like.’ She looked down the stairs as her father’s footsteps could be heard on the flags outside the front door. ‘But I promised I’d have coffee with Daddy first.’

‘Okay.’ Simon made her a mock bow and opened his bedroom door. ‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’

Simon was right in his assumption that Dr. Kemble would not approve of the revealing jeans. ‘You can’t go out in those, Sophie,’ he exclaimed, as they sat together in his study, companionably sharing a pot of coffee. Laura had tactfully left them alone, and Sophie was almost happy sitting in the huge leather chair opposite her father in the book-lined room she had loved for most of her life.

‘Simon says he’ll take me to Hereford to buy some more,’ she replied, sipping the aromatic beverage with real enjoyment. ‘The only thing is …’

She paused and her father laughed. ‘I know. You’ve got no money.’

‘How did you guess?’ Sophie actually chuckled. ‘Actually, Mummy said she would buy me some clothes these holidays. All my things are getting too small for me.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Dr. Kemble dryly. ‘You’re growing up, Sophie. You’re quite a young woman now.’

‘Yes.’ His words had somehow reminded her of Robert’s rejection with painful clarity.

If her father noticed her sudden withdrawal, he chose to ignore it, and went on: ‘Go into Levinsons. Your mother has an account there. Buy anything you want.’

‘Thank you.’ Sophie summoned enthusiasm. ‘But I shan’t buy much today. I’ll wait until Mummy can come, too.’

‘All right, suit yourself.’ Her father was writing a cheque as he spoke. ‘Here.’ He passed the cheque over to her and she stared at the sum he had written in astonishment.

‘But, Daddy——’

‘Take it into the bank, deposit it in your own name. I don’t want you having to come to me every time you ladder your stockings or need a new lipstick.’

‘But, Daddy——’ Sophie pointed helplessly at the generous cheque, ‘this will keep me in tights and cosmetics for years!’

Dr. Kemble screwed the top on his pen with a smile. ‘All the better. But somehow I don’t think it will last as long as you imagine. Everything is becoming more expensive, and I don’t want my daughter reduced to shopping in discount stores.’

‘Oh, Daddy!’ Sophie slid off her chair and hugged him closely. ‘Oh, Daddy, I do love you!’

‘And I love you,’ he answered huskily, pulling her down on to his knee, and at once she stiffened. But only for a moment. It was too familiar. The same room—even the same chair! With a choking sob she wrapped her arms round her father’s neck and burst into tears.

He allowed her to cry for a few minutes and then he pushed his handkerchief into her hand and said: ‘I know all about it—Rob told me. He also told me that you—well, you’d taken it rather badly. Darling, it’s only natural. Rob is a very attractive man. Any girl would feel the same. But you’ve got to get things into perspective. Rob is twelve years older than you are. He has his own life to lead, and you have yours. Now, run along and wash your face and get ready to go with Simon. And—and Sophie——’ This as she halted rather stiffly by the door. ‘Sophie, don’t get any ideas about Simon either, will you, darling?’

Simon’s car was a Chrysler station wagon, a much more conventional vehicle than his brother’s Jensen, and more suitable to the sometimes rugged country roads. Sophie had changed into a plain short-skirted suit of cream wool, which had been bought for her the previous Easter and was therefore reasonably styled, and an olive green shirt. With her hair secured in a tortoiseshell clasp she looked much older, and Simon looked at her twice as she came to join him in the station wagon.

‘Nice,’ he commented, as she slid into the seat beside him. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Hmm.’ Sophie looked back at the house to wave at her father and stepmother who had come to see them off. ‘Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.’

As Laura had said, it was a dull morning, but gradually the sun was breaking through the clouds, and although it hadn’t the humid heat of yesterday, the day was not cool. Simon drove smoothly and after a while Sophie felt her taut nerves relaxing. She brushed a hand across her cheeks. Had Simon noticed that she had been crying? If he had, he wouldn’t mention it. Not unless she did.

Hereford was busy with holidaymakers and they had difficulty finding somewhere to park. All the regular car-parks were full, but eventually they managed to squeeze into the kerb between a furniture wagon and a Mini. Simon locked the car and they walked back towards the main thoroughfare where Levinsons occupied a prominent position.

‘You don’t have to come into the teenage department with me,’ Sophie told him, as they rode up in the lift. Levinsons was of the older type of store where escalators were not in evidence.

Simon pushed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. ‘Don’t you want me to?’

Sophie sighed. ‘I thought you wouldn’t want to.’

‘What?’ Simon shook his head. ‘And have you come out with something like those jeans you were sporting earlier?’ he teased.

Sophie felt her lips twitching. ‘All right. Thanks, Simon.’

Looking up at him in the close confines of the lift she surprised a rather intense look in his eyes, but then it disappeared and he said lightly: ‘That’s okay. I’ll enjoy the floor-show.’

In the event, Sophie bought two pairs of jeans—one in denim like those she had discarded, and a second pair in yellow corduroy. She also chose a couple of shirts and cardigans and a long cotton skirt which was straight to the knee and then fell in layers of frills to her ankles. Simon approved all her purchases and after they were stowed in the station wagon suggested that they had lunch in town.

‘But won’t Mummy be expecting us back?’ asked Sophie doubtfully.

Simon shrugged. ‘I told her we might lunch out. It’s a cold meal at home and it won’t spoil if we’re not there.’

Sophie hesitated. ‘All right, she said. ‘I think I’d like that, Simon.’

‘Good.’ Simon took one hand out of his pocket and slid his fingers down over her wrist and between hers. ‘Where shall we go?’

They ate in a little Italian restaurant which Simon had discovered some weeks before in a side street just off the market place. There were muted lights and low banquettes beside red-clothed tables, and air-conditioning to keep the place cool. They had poached eggs with anchovies, veal cutlets coated in breadcrumbs and fried in butter, and stuffed peaches soaked in wine. Even Sophie could not resist such appetizing delicacies and she made quite a good meal. She sat back at last, unable to finish her peach, but feeling infinitely better. Simon viewed her warmer complexion with satisfaction and said:

‘Did you enjoy it?’

Sophie swallowed the last of her wine and nodded. ‘Mmm, it was marvellous!’

‘Well, it’s the first meal you’ve eaten since you arrived home,’ remarked Simon dryly. ‘You only picked at your dinner last night and I saw the breakfast tray that my mother brought downstairs this morning.’

Sophie looked pointedly round the restaurant. ‘Has this place been open very long? I don’t remember seeing it at Easter.’

‘Three months, I believe.’ Simon rested his elbows on the table, cupping his chin on his knuckles, watching her. ‘Did you know that the parents have arranged for us all to go to France in August?’

‘France?’ Sophie’s head jerked back and she looked at him in surprise. ‘No, I didn’t know.’ She frowned. ‘Who—who do you mean by all?’

‘You, me, Mum and Dad, the Pages——’

‘Oh, no!’ Sophie groaned. ‘Not Vicky Page!’

‘And her parents. Mum and Dad have rented a villa in Brittany.’ Simon grimaced. ‘You should worry. It’s me she’s after, and everyone knows it. In fact, I’m pretty sure the parents approve. After all, she is the vet’s daughter, and she’s a local girl. Entirely suitable. Unfortunately, she doesn’t suit me.’

Sophie watched sympathetically as he picked up his wine glass and swallowed its contents with the fatalistic confidence of a man about to face a firing squad.

‘I suppose they think it’s time you were considering settling down,’ she ventured comfortably.

Simon’s eyes were not grey like his brother’s but blue, and they darkened perceptibly as they rested on Sophie’s understanding face. ‘I think so, too,’ he said steadily. ‘But not with Vicky Page.’

Sophie could feel the colour flooding into her cheeks and was glad of the muted lights to hide her consternation. But no, she told herself fiercely. She must not imagine such things. Simon wasn’t—he couldn’t be interested in her! Surely her experience with Robert had warned her of the dangers of misinterpreting a situation.

‘I—I expect there are plenty of other girls in the village to choose from,’ she exclaimed hastily. ‘And I mean, Hereford is not far——’

‘Sophie!’ Simon’s hand had slid across the table and covered hers. ‘Stop talking nonsense. You know’ perfectly well what I mean. I’m not interested in the village girls or the Hereford girls or any other girls if it comes to that. It’s you I want, and I’m pretty sure you know it.’

‘Oh, Simon!’

Sophie withdrew her hand from under his and pressed both her hands together tightly in her lap.

Simon shrugged and lay back in his seat. ‘That’s okay. I know you don’t feel the same. But you’re too young yet to know what you want.’ He drew out a pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips. ‘I’m prepared to wait. Just don’t try to marry me off in the meantime.’

Sophie shook her head helplessly. ‘Oh, Simon,’ she said again. ‘Why did you tell me?’

Simon lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘You looked pretty down after—well, after speaking with Rob. Look, I know about that, too. Rob told me—he told us all. I was pretty mad at the time, but I’ve got over it now. These things happen. It’s all part of growing up, I guess. I know you’ve always hero-worshipped Rob, but that was all it was, Sophie, believe me! Rob’s too old for you—too experienced. He deserves someone like Emma.’

‘Emma? Emma Norton?’ Sophie felt slightly sick. So she was still around, was she? She had been right in supposing that Emma would not be so easily discarded as his other girl-friends.

‘Well, anyway, let’s not talk about that now,’ said Simon, summoning the waiter. ‘We’ll have some more coffee, hmm? And then we’ll drive out to the Brecon Beacons, shall we? We can walk for a while and get home in time for tea.’ He smiled gently as Sophie began to look doubtful. ‘Don’t worry, I shan’t make a pass at you. At least, not unless you ask me to.’

The Brecon Beacons was a national park that boasted some of the finest hill country in the whole of South Wales. Sophie had come here often with her parents as a child, and once she and Robert and Simon and some of their friends had camped here for a weekend. It was good to get out of the car and stretch their legs and with a fresh breeze clearing the clouds away it was an ideal day for walking. The Beacons themselves, huge peaks of red sandstone, reared their heads in the distance and nearer at hand the splashing waters of one of the numerous falls were cool and inviting. Simon kept to his promise of not touching her and Sophie relaxed again and enjoyed the outing.

They arrived back at Penn Warren soon after five to find a sleek cream Jaguar parked beside Robert’s Jensen on the drive.

‘That’s John’s car,’ remarked Simon, in answer to Sophie’s questioning glance. ‘Do you know John?’

Sophie bit her lip. ‘Vaguely, I think. He hasn’t been over to the house much while I’ve been home.’

Simon parked the station wagon and thrust open his door. ‘Well, come and meet him. You’ll like him. He’s engaged to Joanna White. When Emma’s here, they all go around in a foursome.’ Then, seeing Sophie’s suddenly set face, he pressed on: ‘You know Joanna, don’t you?’

‘Is—is that Graham White’s sister?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, yes …’ Simon’s expression was wry, ‘I was forgetting. You made quite a conquest there, didn’t you? Old Graham was over here last week asking when you were due home.’

‘I know. Mummy told me.’ Sophie was grateful to him for leaving the uneasy subject of Emma and Robert. ‘She’s invited him over next weekend. It’s so silly. We only played a few games of tennis together at Easter.’

‘It’s your irresistible charm,’ remarked Simon, with a grin, and indicated that she should precede him into the house.

Robert and John Meredith were in the lounge, learning over the coffee table which was covered with maps. They both looked up when Sophie and Simon appeared in the doorway and immediately both of them rose to their feet.

John Meredith was not so tall as Robert, but he was dark, too, and more stockily built. His smile was slow and attractive, and he left Robert to approach Sophie with open admiration.

‘Well, hello, Sophie,’ he greeted her warmly. ‘It is Sophie, isn’t it? It’s a cliché, I know, but my! how you’ve changed.’ He had taken her hand and continued to hold it. ‘The last time I saw you, you had a ponytail and very short shorts!’ His smile widened and his eyes dropped the length of her figure, lingering on her long slender legs. ‘Say, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, after all!’

Sophie couldn’t help warming to his personality. ‘You’re very flattering, Mr. Meredith,’ she replied, laughing, ‘but I can assure you I never had a ponytail!’

John shook his head. ‘It must have been someone else, then. But you did wear the shorts, I remember them.’

‘I’m afraid I hardly remember you at all, Mr. Meredith,’ said Sophie dauntingly, and he shook his head.

‘I have that effect on people. And please—call me John. I’m not quite old enough to be your father, you know.’

Robert’s voice broke into their conversation. ‘Can we finish what we’re doing, John?’ he demanded curtly. ‘I do have some work to do this evening, you know.’

John grimaced at Sophie and then turned to face her older stepbrother, winking at Simon in the process. ‘All right, all right, bach. Don’t be so impatient. Just because you can talk to this beautiful young creature whenever it suits you to do so——’




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