HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (14 page)

she would throw both boxes of eggs at him.

'That's utter nonsense,' he said flatly, plainly not at all amused. 'They

wouldn't hurt you.'

'Don't tell me. Tell them,' she returned tersely. 'If you'll keep them away

from the bottom of the ladder, I'll come down.'

The dogs, she noticed disgustedly, like the hypocrites they were, had taken

to fawning round their master's feet, their plumy tails waving in devoted

eagerness, all friendliness and slavish adoration as if the idea of taking a

lump out of anyone could not be further from their minds.

Shi: found the top rung with her feet and began a cautious descent, only too

conscious of Dominic Trevennon's watching eyes. She found she was

shaking and told herself that it was pure reaction, but her nervousness under

his regard was her undoing. She was about halfway down when her foot

slipped. She cried out as her shoulder jerked painfully, taking her weight,

and the egg boxes tumbled from her slackened grasp. Then strong hands

gripped her waist and swung her to the floor, deftly missing the sad little

heap of crushed cardboard and egg yolk at his feet.

He was shaking too. She could feel it, and she knew, now that there was

nothing left to throw at him, that it was suppressed laughter.

'Are you practising for some kind of obstacle race?'

'No.' She was angry to discover that her voice was trembling too and that she

was close to tears. 'Just everyday life in your rotten household. And Inez

wanted
those eggs!'

He grimaced slightly, glancing down to where the dogs were having a field

day. 'Inez is welcome to them. And there are plenty more where those came

from.'

She realised suddenly that he was still holding her waist and she wanted to

move away, but there were few places to move to without stepping on a

garden rake and fracturing her skull. He wasn't even holding her very

tightly, but she was as conscious of him as if his fingers had been touching

her bare skin. The thought was a disturbing one and she felt a betraying

warmth begin to spread upwards over her face.

'Your dogs hate me,' she said lamely.

He shrugged slightly. 'You're still a stranger to them. They'll get used to

you—in time.'

'It's your fault,' she accused. She knew she was being childish, but was

totally unable to stop herself. 'You hate me too. You resent my being in your

house and the dogs can sense it.'

Now what, she wondered hysterically, had made her say that? Why couldn't

she just have thanked him quietly for his assistance, disengaged herself with

dignity and gone on her way? She felt tension close round her like a cloak.

And felt, unbelievably, his hands tighten on her, drawing her towards him.

'Is that really so?' he drawled. 'Then perhaps we'd better confuse the

vibrations.'

As his dark head bent towards her, she lifted her hands in sudden panic,

pushing at his chest, but she might as well have tried to thrust away a piece

of Cornish granite. Only he wasn't rock. He was bone and muscle and lean

warmth under her suddenly paralysed fingers.

He kissed her slowly and very thoroughly with a lingering and slightly brutal

insolence. Her legs seemed to be dissolving into jelly and her heart felt as if

it was fluttering in her throat like a frightened bird. No one, certainly not

Guy, had ever kissed her like this and she was terrified of the response he

was so expertly evoking, a response that made her want to press herself close

to him, feel his hands caressing her body. A long wild tremor ran through

her, and then suddenly his arms were no longer holding her and his mouth

was no longer moving, warm and hard and sensually demanding, on the

softness of hers.

Their eyes met, and there seemed to be little devils dancing at the back of

his.

'Perhaps that will solve some of your problems,' he said gently, but

Morwenna had the strangest feeling that he was angry, and this intuition

sparked off her own temper.

'With the dogs, undoubtedly,' she said rudely. 'I didn't realise I would also

have wolves to cope with.'

His eyebrows rose in cold mockery. 'No? But I seem to remember that one of

your ploys was going to be "to get the king of Cornwall to fancy you". I

would have thought your success would have pleased you. Because I do

fancy you. Or do you require further proof?"

He reached for her again, his hands sliding down her waist to her hips and

pulling her against his body in intimate, insolent demand.

'Now do you understand?' he murmured against her ear, his lips teasing its

lobe and sensitive hollows.

'You're vile!' She jerked her head back violently. 'I hate you! *

He smiled cynically down at her. 'Where there's no love, hate can often make

a very adequate substitute.' He brushed a lazy finger across her indignantly

parted lips. 'I could prove it to you to the undoubted satisfaction of us both if

our surroundings were—er—slightly more propitious.'

'My God, you flatter yourself,' she whispered. 'As if I'd let you…'

'As if you could stop me if I once made up my mind.' His mouth twisted. 'But

I won't force a confrontation here and now. As I've indicated this is hardly

the ideal time or place.'

'Thanks for the warning.' Temper came to her aid. 'I'll make sure I remain

strictly out of your way from now on— and I shall lock my bedroom door.'

'How very conventional of you, Morwenna. I should make sure first that

there's a key—and remember too that a locked door never stood in the way

of a really determined man. And what you've learned of our family history

so far should have told you that the Trevennons were all—really determined

men.'

He was no longer holding her, so it should have been the easiest thing in the

world to turn and walk away. Yet it wasn't, in spite of all her brave words.

Oh, she could control her mind, but she had learned in one sharp disastrous

lesson just how little control she had over her senses. All she could do was

salvage what she could— make some attempt to get back to normality,

whatever that was.

'It must be nearly lunchtime,' she said faintly, cringing inwardly at the

banality of the words. 'Will—will you explain to Inez about the eggs?'

'I'll do better than that. I'll drive round to Herricks' later and get some more.*

'Thanks,' she said helplessly. She felt gauche and inadequate, as if this was

the first time that a man had ever kissed or touched her. She had thought

briefly that she wanted Guy, but now she knew she had not even known

what wanting was and the knowledge was a torment to her.

'Well?' he said after a moment or two, and his voice seemed to come to her

from a distance. 'What are you waiting for?'

She looked up at him, but his dark face was remote artd enigmatic, giving

her no clue as to what he was thinking.

'Nothing,' she said tonelessly. 'Absolutely nothing.'

It was colder when she got outside and as she walked across the yard, she

turned her coat collar up against the encroaching wind. But there was a cold

and bitter truth that she had no shield against, and it had been her own words

that had brought it home to her. And the truth was that not even Nick's

affection and the possibility of restoring her mother's good name could ever

compensate for the knowledge that, without Dominic's love, there was

nothing for her here at Trevennon.

LUNCH was a predominantly silent meal. Nick appeared preoccupied and

Morwenna was. thankful in many ways as she forced herself to make an

attempt at least at eating. Her mind was seething with the events of the

morning and she badly needed to think over what had happened, especially

the unwelcome illumination about her feelings which had come to her.

She gave a little half-suppressed sigh as she pushed the remains of the

cheese and bacon casserole round her plate, then stole a 'swift glance at Nick

to see if he had heard her. Up to now he had always been solicitous for her

wellbeing, aware, seemingly, of her every change of mood, as if this was all

part of his recompense for the past. But he seemed to be sunk deep in his

own abstractions. He looked tired, she thought with a swift feeling of

compassion, and older than she had ever seen him look. The

physiotherapist's visit Aust have wearied him more than he had expected.

So she was utterly bewildered when he announced rather abruptly just as

Inez was bringing in the plates of apple tart and cream that they were going

out that afternoon.

'Going where?' Morwenna asked rather helplessly.

'Into Port Vennor.'

Inez snorted. 'We'll see what Mr Dom has to say about that,' she said grimly.

'You don't want to go running afore you can walk, Mr Nick.'

'God damn it, woman, who said anything about running?' Nick Ranged his

walking stick on the ground with frustration. 'Do you think I want to live and

die in this room? Just because I'm no longer in charge at the yard it doesn't

mean I've relinquished all interest in it. I'm not written off yet, you know.'

'No one ever said you were,' Inez said soothingly. 'All I'm saying is that you

want to go easy.'

'Mrs Lane told me that I should take more exercise,' Nick muttered, his face

mutinous.

'But she didn't say you were to go down to that yard crawling and

clambering around a lot of old boats,' Inez said calmly and unanswerably. 'A

little walk round the gardens and maybe down to the beach later on. That's

what she meant.'

When they were alone again, Morwenna said gently, 'She's right, you know.'

Nick scowled down into his apple pie. 'Are you on her side too?'

'No.' She smiled at him. 'On yours. And is this a taste of the Trevennon

temper you were telling me about the other day?'

Nick gave her a wry glance, his face relaxing. 'Just a taste.' He smiled back

unwillingly. 'To hell with it, Morwenna. I need to go down to the yard.

There's something there I want.'

'Couldn't one of your nephews bring it for you?'

'They could if I asked them,' he said abruptly. 'But I'd rather keep it to myself

for various reasons.' He gave her a narrow look. 'But you could fetch it for

me. It's quite simple. It's a folder—a green one, coded PY/33, and it's in the

top drawer of the filing cabinet in the inner office.'

'Nick,' Morwenna gasped, 'I can't go into the office and start rooting round in

the filing cabinets. Supposing someone saw me?'

'Then naturally you tell them the truth—that you're removing the folder with

my authorisation,' Nick said rather testily. 'But if you take ordinary care, no

one need see you. It's a busy place you know, especially at this time of year

when all the repairs for next season are being done.'

He waited for a moment rather impatiently and when she didn't speak said,

'Well, if you won't do it, Morwenna, then there's nothing else for it. I must go

myself.'

'No.' Morwenna put out a detaining hand. 'I don't want you to do too much

on your first outing. I—I'll go. Only how do I get to Port Vennor?'

'Mark will take you in. He usually goes back about two o'clock. Tell him you

want to do some shopping.'

'At the boatyard?' Morwenna asked sceptically. 'All right, I'll think of

something.'

She fetched her sheepskin jacket from her room, and as an afterthought,

picked up her rucksack. She would need something to put her imaginary

shopping in, she thought, and somewhere to conceal the folder.

When she arrived downstairs she found that her timing was almost perfect.

Mark was standing at the front door, apparently giving Zack some

instructions, and he agreed readily to give her a lift.

'Why didn't you say this morning that you wanted to go into Port Vennor?'

he asked as he settled her in the car. 'I could have driven you in there and

then and we could have had lunch together.'

She smiled at him. He was very attractive and pleasant and a different

Morwenna at another time could quite have enjoyed a brief romantic

attachment without strings with someone like Mark Trevennon. But not

now. The Marks and the Guys of this world were totally in the past. Only

what did the future hold instead?

She dragged her painful thoughts away from the vision of bleak emptiness

that instantly presented itself and forced herself to respond to Mark's

cheerful conversation.

Port Vennor lay, she discovered, in the curve of a small bay, and the road fell

away steeply downhill running through its houses and shops down to the

quay which at one time, she supposed, would have been the hub of the

town's activities. In fact, in the season, it probably still was, but now, with a