Country Lovers (19 page)

Her heart sank at the prospect if he left. “Forcing my hand is no way to make me want to marry you.”

“I could always tempt you instead.” He'd looked at her with that passionate look she'd grown to dread.

“Well, you won't. Sorry, Gab, but you won't. You'll find someone one day. Believe me.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cats trying to get in. Matter-of-factly she'd said, “Now, the cats are getting desperate. Come on. Let them in.”

Some of the determination went out of him, and he looked less the passionate suitor and rather more the determined supplicant. “I won't give up wanting to marry you. And I'm not leaving. I think enough of you to know what it would mean if I weren't here. I love you, Meggie, like I've never loved anyone before. I've said it plenty of times to girls, but only because I knew that was what they wanted me to say, never because I really
loved
'em. But with you it's different. I haven't even looked at another woman since I came to work here, if that's any recommendation. Faithful. That's what I would be. Staunch and faithful. I'd do what was right by you, and I'd work this farm till they'd all be jealous of our success. You and me together.”

He took her into his arms, despite her resistance, and kissed her with such passionate ferocity that she knew instantly that his kind of loving couldn't ever be right for her. When he'd stopped long enough for her to draw breath, she said, “It's no use, Gab, it's no use.” Gab looked down at her with a kind of raging disappointment in his eyes that frightened her. He strode out of the stable across the yard and into the milking parlor, leaving her exhausted and emotionally spent. That was when she'd abandoned everything she'd meant to do and come here to her private paradise to recover.

Eventually Rhodri said, “What is it, love? Needing five minutes to yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Shall I leave you here then? Or can I give you a lift up to the farm?”

“Don't leave me here. I'll come.”

“Before we go, tell me what the matter is. Please.”

No reply.

“Is it your da playing up again?”

No reply came, but her arm tightened around his waist.

Rhodri held on to her and waited.

“I'm being ridiculous. It's time I pulled myself together.”

“You're never ridiculous, and you don't need to pull yourself together; you're the most pulled together person I know, see.”

He turned her to him and hugged her, but after a moment she drew away from him. “It's Gab.”

Oh, God! thought Rhodri, recollecting what Dan had said. He asked as gently as he could, “Is it, love? What's he been doing that's upset you?”

“He comes closer every day. You could say, and this sounds stupid, he's getting a hold on my mind. I know he's wanting to…oust you.”

“But what's he
doing
to make you feel like that?”

“Nothing. Not really.”

“Well then, perhaps you're overtired, things always seem worse when…”

Megan stood away from him, her eyes blazing with indignation. “I'm not in my teens, Rhodri. I do know what I'm talking about. Don't belittle me by saying I'm tired—I'm always tired. I've a massive sleep debt, but it doesn't mean I've lost my senses. Far from it. I'm acutely aware of him and his need of me, and I don't like it. If I sack him, then I've everything on the farm to do myself, and I can't, simply can't, take on any more work. I need him like a drowning man needs a lifejacket. So don't suggest it unless you have a viable alternative.” Megan flaring up as she did only made Rhodri think she must have good cause.

“Are you sure he's done nothing?”

Her temper cooled instantly, but all Megan could say was that he came too close to her all the time and had in fact kissed her, that the angrier she got with him, the more daring he became, mistaking her anger for passion.

“Passion!”

“He thinks every woman he meets finds him irresistible. And I can see why. He is irresistible. That's the trouble.”

“Irresistible? My God! I'll kill him.” Rhodri clutched Megan to him and held on to her till she protested. He released her, saying, “Megan, get in the car. Your da in?”

“Of course, what else?”

“We'll make him a cup of tea and then you leave me to talk to him.” He gripped her hand as they climbed the slope up to the lane, stowed her in his front passenger seat, and still breathing heavily, climbed in on the driver's side and revved up the engine. Beating in his brain was the word “stud” till there was nothing else in his head but that.

They roared up to the farm. Rhodri parked beside Gab's crumbling heap of a car and in his fevered imagination he thought, That sod will be like his own car by the time I've finished with him. Gab was nowhere to be seen, so they went into the kitchen and prepared a tea tray together. Rhodri carried it into the sitting room to find Mr. Jones waking up from his afternoon sleep, stretching as best he could and yawning too.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones. Nice bright day for September.”

“But there's a chill in the air; we can't forget it's autumn.”

“You're right there. Now here's your tea. We've timed it nicely. Who's this mug for, Megan?”

“Gab. Pour it and I'll take it into the kitchen for him.”

Rhodri, grateful Gab didn't drink his tea in the sitting room, said generously. “Cake too?”

Mr. Jones answered him. “Of course. Cake. He needs to be kept sweet, does Gab; we can't manage without him.”

“I wish you could.”

Megan went out with Gab's tea and cake and didn't come back.

Rhodri took his opportunity. “Look, Mr. Jones, I'm feeling very concerned about Gab. I feel, no, I
know
he's a threat to Megan, and I want to do something about it.”

“I've tried to find someone else, but I can't.”

“Do
you
find him a threat to her?”

Mr. Jones hesitated and then said, “Has she said so?”

“This afternoon.”

Mr. Jones put down his cup of tea. “He's getting too familiar with her. I can see that, and far too cocky.”

“Will you agree to us marrying? That would put a stop to it, I'm sure.”

“Absolutely not, Rhodri Hughes. I need Megan here with me and that's that. Good try, Rhodri, good try.”

“And you're willing to put her in jeopardy for your own selfish ends?”

“He won't dare make a move on her, not with me here. Believe me. I have his measure.”

“What I fail to understand is why you bought this farm in the full knowledge that you wouldn't be able to do the work yourself. I can't help but ask why.”

“I'll tell you why. Howard, that's my son, Megan's brother, is one of those who lost his job in the city overnight. There was an ugly fraud case, and it meant they had a complete clear out of anyone even remotely connected with it. Howard was one of them. He claims he had nothing to do with it, but I have my doubts; he's easily led. He'd a massive mortgage on his flat, and no money coming in. So he rented the flat out and came home. Came home! To Wales, and did nothing but moan about how isolated we were. Can't imagine why he thought it was any different from when he'd grown up there. He was at a loose end, not knowing what to do, so I suggested he take up farming. I told him it's a thriving business—hard work but the returns are there, so why not? He leaped at the chance but said he had to be nearer London, so he could be up there in a couple of hours at the most. I was so delighted he'd come home and was willing to farm, I agreed to move. We sold up and came here. We'd been here three months, and I was beginning to think it was working out well, after all he'd been brought up with farming and as a boy he'd loved it. Then, out of the blue, he got a call from one of his so-called friends with the promise of a job, and immediately he went back to the city and the life he preferred, leaving me and Megan to carry on as best we could. That's why we're here, and as Gab so rightly said only this afternoon, to sell up now would be sheer idiocy.”

“I didn't realize. Megan never mentions him.”

“No wonder. Such a betrayal. She can't bear to say his name out loud. She was distraught when he left. So was I.” For the first time since Rhodri had known him Mr. Jones's eyes filled up with tears.

Rhodri stood up and made the feeblest of excuses. “I'll get some more hot water; I expect you'd like another cup?” Not waiting for an answer, he went to the kitchen primarily to make sure Megan was all right. She was. Gab was sitting at the table with her, concentrating on his tea and cake.

“Here comes the Welsh lover. Hot-foot, ardent, and up for it.”

Rhodri objected to his familiarity. “For a start, you can shut up; nobody asked your opinion. More tea, Megan?”

“Oh! The worm has turned.” Gab laughed and, imitating Rhodri's Welsh accent, he said, “More tea, Megan?”

“That will do, Gab. If you've finished, you'd best get back to work.” Megan glared at him as she spoke, but it only invited Gab to be even more confrontational toward Rhodri. He stood up, bent over toward Megan, and said, “Right, Meggie, my love, I'll be off then. Milking calls.” Then he darted toward her and kissed her on the lips, and with a jeering glance at Rhodri he went out. But he hadn't bargained for Rhodri's leaping into action at this affront to his male pride. Before he knew it, he and Rhodri were wrestling out in the passage. The noise they made brought Mr. Jones to the door of the sitting room.

Unfortunately for Rhodri, his anger had made him reckless; he'd disregarded how big and how fit Gab was. The fight was unequal in every way. Gab was a head taller and much stronger than Rhodri, and if it hadn't been for Megan picking up a tin tray in the kitchen and hitting Gab on the side of his head with it so he was momentarily stunned, there would have been an ignominious ending to the fight for Rhodri.

Breathing deeply Rhodri stood back, and Mr. Jones shouted, “Get out! Get out the pair of you. Fighting in my house. I won't have it. Gab, pull yourself together. It was a mere tap she gave you. Get on with the milking; that's what you're paid for.” He was gripping the door frame by this time, and his breath was rasping in his throat, his chest visibly heaving with every breath he took.

“Da! Da!” Megan rushed to his side, all thoughts of the threat of Gab gone from her mind.

Rhodri opened the back door and almost kicked Gab out. “Get back to doing what you know best.” There was a very satisfactory feeling for Rhodri as he said that. He slammed the door shut so hard the house echoed with the noise.

Mr. Jones could no longer castigate him, for he was incapable of speech. Megan got him back in his chair and gave him his inhaler. Rhodri took the tea tray out, put the cups and plates in the dishwasher, lined the tea cannister up with the other kitchen jars, put the sugar in the cupboard, and sat down to wait. There would be no point in going to see if he could help Megan with her father; his presence would only make matters worse.

What he didn't like was the realization that had hit him when he saw Gab kissing Megan. Out of the blue he could understand what it was Megan was talking about when she said that Gab was irresistible to women. He was. He had a kind of sexy charm to him, a sinewy, physical, powerful sort of attraction, and Rhodri hated him for it. His own part in the drama appeared useless if not downright pathetic. He admitted to himself that Gab was more of a man than he was.

He heard Megan's footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Rhodri stayed silent, trying to pick up on her state of mind so he wouldn't say the wrong thing.

As soon as she shut the kitchen door she burst out, “What made you do it? Honestly, Rhodri, I thought you would have had more sense. You'd better go home while I see to Da.”

“He's got to go.”

Horrified, Megan said in a loud whisper. “I'm not putting Da in a home. What are you thinking of?”

“No, no. I meant Gab.”

“Oh! I see, of course. Find me someone else to do his work and he'll go; till then I've got to stick with him.”

“Right.” Rhodri didn't dare offer to kiss her before he went. “I'll be off. I'll go to Kate's drinks party by myself, then?”

Megan nodded. “She'll understand I can't come. Give her my good wishes. 'Bye, Rhodri.”

She went out of the kitchen, leaving the door wide open for him. So that was it. He was dismissed and he couldn't even have the pleasure of her company at Kate's leaving party. All he had to look forward to tomorrow was visiting Bernard Wilson to check on the dogs. Big excitement that would be. He was so angry about the whole situation at Badger's Lot, he knew he'd have to keep his temper in check or else Dan would have something to say if he lost it and made the whole situation even worse than it was. He paused by the back door, debating whether or not to say good-bye to Mr. Jones, but decided not to. He went out into the yard hoping against hope he wouldn't bump into Gab before he left. He'd been such a fool to pick a fight with him. Thank heavens Megan had saved his skin. A little smile escaped and lit up his face at the thought. She was resourceful if nothing else, but how much better it would have been if he'd won the fight. That would have put that damned Gab in his place. As it was…

Chapter
• 13 •

A
s it was, Megan spent a large part of the night awake worrying about her da and about Rhodri and wondering if she and he would ever be safely married to each other. That likelihood appeared even more remote than ever, if that was possible. There wasn't any sense in alienating her father by getting married without telling him; in any case, she wanted to have friends and family about her to enjoy their day. Not some hole-in-the-corner event as unmemorable as going to the supermarket or visiting the doctor.

Megan felt mean and shallow sometimes when she thought about her da. Much as she loved him, much as she wanted him to be happy, there were times she pondered on his selfishness and wished…no, she wouldn't indulge herself. If only Howard would help, would come home even if only for a weekend, just to relieve the pressures on her. A phone call once a week did nothing either for her or her da. You'd think a brother would show more interest, if only for her sake. She turned over in bed, thumped her pillow to make it more comfortable, and closed her eyes again.

But she opened her eyes immediately and sat up, thinking she'd heard someone trying the front door. Her clock said twenty past five. Twenty past five? The fleeting thought that she'd forgotten to lock up last night passed through her mind, then she heard a foot on the stairs. Then another. It wouldn't be Da; he never came upstairs. Megan reached for her dressing gown, put it on while still in bed, got out, and stood behind the door listening. As she tied the belt, there came a tap at the door right by her ear. Megan was so twitchy, she actually jumped and clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from calling out in fright. But the stealthy movements of the person on the other side of the door now centered on the door knob, which she saw was being turned, slowly but surely. She stepped back to allow the door to open and a head appeared. It was Gab. In a loud whisper he said, “Meggie, my love, like I promised, I'm giving you your early morning call.”

Gab didn't actually step into the bedroom, but he did wait for an answer. “Meggie? Are you up already? Meggie!”

Seething with a mixture of temper and fright, Megan answered, “I'm up. Thanks.”

She heard him chuckle, then say, “Cup of tea ready for you in the kitchen in five minutes. OK?” The door shut and she was left with a pounding heart and fury boiling up inside her. How dare he? How dare he? What was worse, how had he got in?

She found out when she finally got down into the kitchen. He was standing there, bold as brass, his sandy hair spiky and tousled, his light blue eyes boldly hypnotizing her with his direct glance, his shirt neck wide open exposing his bare muscular chest, and their large back-door key tauntingly displayed on a chain around his neck.

“I said I would. And I did. I'm a man of my word, you see.”

“Give me that key. Please.”

Gab dodged to the other side of the table. “Come and get it!”

The singsong tone of his voice incensed her. “Don't play your stupid games with me. Give me that key. Now.” She held out her hand and waited.

“If you want it, come and get it.” He grinned that attractive grin of his and for a split second she…his eyes sparkled as he recognized her hesitation for what it was. “Come on. Come on.” Gab beckoned with both hands. Softly he whispered, “You want the key. You come and get it. I'll exchange the key for a kiss. That's fair, isn't it?” Again those inviting, beckoning hands.

“Stop playing the fool. You'd no right to take that key. Give it to me.” But she daren't get close to him.

His eyes roved over her, drinking in the essence of her, draining her willpower from her in a way Rhodri never did. “Even at this early hour you're beautiful. There can't be another woman in the whole world as beautiful at this time in the morning as you. You're a sight for sore eyes.” Gab removed the chain from round his neck and held it out to her. “Here you are, Meggie, my love.”

“Lay it on the table. Go on. On the table.”

With a show of reluctance he did as she asked. He placed it carefully down, arranging it delicately as though it were a great treasure. “I didn't take your key; I had another one made, at the key cutter's in the mall when I went to get my hair cut yesterday afternoon.”

Megan slipped the key from the chain. “Here, this is yours. So where is our key now?” She laid the chain on the table again, the key itself held tightly in her hand behind her back.

“Hanging where it always hangs, on the wall in the passage.”

The tension between them was so strong it was almost visible.

He drank his tea down, his eyes never leaving her face. “That's better.” He nodded his head toward the door. “Milking. OK?” He paused for a moment, his hand on the knob of the kitchen door and looked again at her with eyes full of passion. She sensed the intensity of his feelings beating at her. “I shan't be satisfied till you and me's married. I don't mind your da. It won't bother me it being a threesome, but he won't cower me like he does that Rhodri. If I say, then I say and that's that. Must go.” Before he closed the door, he looked at her with triumph in his eyes.

The lad rapped on the window as he went by with the cows to the milking parlor, and it broke the spell. Megan went to the window and watched him and Gab fooling about on their way to begin the milking. God! If she could find someone else, even half as energetic as Gab, she'd take him on this minute. What worried Megan was his magnetism. She knew full well if she hadn't met Rhodri first…she would have been in his arms in an instant. That was the danger. Pull yourself together, Megan, she thought. He's a farmhand, that's
all he is.

Megan sipped her tea. Nevertheless, she thought, he's an attractive devil. She allowed herself to think about him for a moment. Life would be exciting, that's for certain. Her da would have the asthmatic attack of all asthmatic attacks, though, if she said she was marrying Gab. Or would he? There was no denying the fact that Gab's father had a huge acreage, an enormous farmhouse in an enviable position, with amazingly rich pasture land, so in actual fact he wasn't just a farmhand…the lights flickered as they always did when the milking machine was switched on. The flicker snapped Megan out of her mood. Tea for Da. He'd be waiting, waking early, like farmers always do. As she poured his tea she wondered if this was all it was to be for the rest of her life. She would so have enjoyed the party last night, and Rhodri would have enjoyed it more if she'd been there. They would have left early and gone to Rhodri's and made love. She looked around her kitchen and felt it enclose her like prison walls.

“G
OOD
party last night, Kate! Thoroughly enjoyed myself!” Dan dashed past reception and into the staff office at the back. “Rhodri in?”

Kate, trying desperately to rally her resources after her late night and the excitement of the party, called out, “No, not yet.”

Dan called over his shoulder “OK. If he doesn't come before I go, remind me to leave a message for him.”

Kate busied herself organizing the appointments for the small animal clinic and printing out the call lists for the farm vets.

Dan came back in. “My list? Please.”

“You've an emergency at Applegate Farm. Came in five minutes ago. Sounds urgent, but then when Blossom calls, it always is. Go there first. The rest is more or less routine.”

Dan picked up his list and said, “Tell Rhodri I want to know how Bernard Wilson and his dogs are doing, and does he need me to call?”

“Right.” Kate added a note to Rhodri's list, at the same time answered the phone and hoped Annette wouldn't be too long before she got there. Surely she couldn't be blaming the road-works again.

Dan hurtled off to Applegate Farm decidedly pleased with life. Phil Parsons was leaning over his farm gate awaiting his arrival. He'd obviously purchased a new balaclava, for this one was tweedy and brown, but with the two selfsame slits for his eyes and a bigger one for his mouth. “About time.”

“Sorry, came as quickly as I could.”

“Come on, then. Come on. It's Star. Right off color, he is. I'm worried sick.”

As Dan pulled on his boots he asked how the pygmy goats were doing.

“Grand. When you've seen to Star you can 'ave a look at 'em. Hamish is doing a grand job with 'em, and Blossom's right taken with 'em too. Come on, before it's too late.”

“What are the symptoms?”

“You tell me; that's what I pay you for.”

Dan held up a placatory hand, went through the farm gate, and headed for the barn where Sunny Boy the bull had always been. He felt quite a pang that it wouldn't be him he'd be attending.

Star, the new occupant of the first-class barn at Applegate Farm, was looking uncomfortable. Dan approached with caution, gently making Star aware of his presence and noticing with approval that his head was tethered firmly, both sides, to the two-foot thick wall.

Phil muttered, “He's tethered, not taking any more chances. It breaks my heart to see him like that, but after Sunny Boy gored Hamish…well, I can't take the risk.”

“How is Hamish?”

Mystifyingly Phil replied, “You'll see after.”

By this time, Dan was in Star's stall using his hands to feel him all over. “When did this start?”

“He looked a bit uncomfortable last night, Hamish said, not himself you know, but nothing specific. This morning he's worse and hasn't eaten a bite. Not even his favorite snack.”

“What's that?”

“A bag of chips.”

Dan had to laugh. “A bag of chips! Honestly, Phil, I can't believe it.”

Phil chuckled. “It's his favorite, honest. Loves 'em. Do nearly anything for a bag. Has t'be plain—doesn't like them artificial flavors.”

Dan shook his head in disbelief. “You've not been giving him anything else strange, have you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, I've taken his temperature and he has got a slight one, which shows things are not quite right. I'll stand here for a bit and watch him. There, look, did you see him look down his flank? There's something causing him pain.” Dan placed his fist on Star's left flank and stayed silent.

Phil whispered, “Are you doing a bit of faith healing or something? Laying on of hands, like?”

Dan didn't answer, but concentrated hard. Then he said, “Watch!” and Star glanced down his flank again as though anxious. “I think he might have something lodged in his rumen because every time it contracts, it's making him wince. Got a piece of planking? About five or six feet long?”

Phil, thinking Dan must have taken leave of his senses, disappeared and came back a few minutes later with the required piece of wood. “Will this do?”

“Excellent! Now you stand the other side of him and pass the wood through, and you hold your end and I'll hold mine and when I say lift, lift as hard as you can up against his body.”

“Here! Just a minute, what are we doing?”

“We'll put pressure on his body right where it counts, and if it causes him pain, which we'll know by his reaction, then I shall know my diagnosis is correct.”

“Oh! Right!” Still convinced Dan had entirely lost the plot, Phil waited for the signal.

Dan bellowed, “Lift!” and the two of them heaved the plank of wood up against his body and Star grunted, loudly.

“Just what I thought. Once more to make sure.”

“Well, I'd grunt if someone was heaving a plank up against my insides.”

“Now!” Poor Star grunted again, and lifted a back leg.

“We're right. He's got a piece of wire or some other solid object jammed at the point of his rumen, and he feels it when the rumen begins to contract from that end, and we make him feel it when we push the plank up against him.”

Full of hope Phil asked, “Maybe it would pass through him with a pint of castor oil? Do you think?”

“No, absolutely not. We've got to get it out.”

In a feeble voice Phil asked, “You mean, putting your arm up his arse?”

“No, cutting him and pulling it out through his side. It's the only way.”

Phil clung to the top of the stall gate. “Hell's bells. No, you can't mean it.”

“I do. If I'm going to save him.”

“Think of the risk.”

“Think of the risk if I don't.”

“Knock him out for a few minutes, you mean?”

“No, an injection to numb the whole area and do it while he's standing here.”

“Oh, God! Will you need 'elp?”

“An extra pair of hands would be helpful, yes.”

“I'll get Blossom; she's better at this kind of thing than me.” A distraught Phil shuffled off to the house, feet dragging as though taking his last steps on his way to hell.

Blossom appeared in the doorway of the barn, wearing a spanking blue-and-white striped butcher's apron over her skimpy clothes, vivid pink rubber gloves on her hands, and her peroxided hair wrapped tightly in a tea towel that had seen better days.