True Colours (30 page)

The hazard lights on the Discovery flashed in welcome as he depressed the remote.

One last check to make sure the number plates were still covered in mud and Part One was executed.

Now to get down to Kilfenora House and back in forty minutes. Peter reckoned he could do it in fifteen comfortably. He checked the illuminated dial on his dashboard. Minus four minutes and counting.

THIRTY SIX

‘
There’s toothpaste and whatever else you might need in the cupboard in the guest bathroom. I’ll get you a t-shirt.’

‘
Thanks.’

Alex didn’t know what else to say as she followed Sebastian up the Grand Staircase, lagging a few steps behind him, the treads of the old stairs creaking their welcome.

After they’d laughed about Dodo and her rat, the awkwardness had returned. They were both tongue-tied, unable to think of anything safe to say, apart from commenting on the weather, but even that wasn’t safe, Alex knew, could lead to inevitable comparisons with Spain.

A taut silence had descended on them, a silence knotted with, Alex sighed inwardly…well just everything. Curled up in the corner of the sofa – as far away from Sebastian as she could physically get, staring blindly into the fire, Alex faked a yawn, hoping he’d get the hint. She’d said her piece about her dad, had made it clear that she wasn’t going to let the whole shooting incident lie, that the Wingfields were liable and had a debt to settle. A big one. And Sebastian had admitted it; so it was up to him to come up with an offer and she didn’t want to discuss it now, to rush it, wanted him to have a really good think about the implications of pulling that trigger.

A log had slipped in the hearth, sending out shower of sparks that startled them both.

‘
Wood’s very dry this year. Not much rain over the winter.’ Sebastian shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, tense.

‘
Must be global warming.’

‘
Must be.’

Alex groaned inwardly. This was painful! She was a total idiot to come all this way without the spare tyre. She’d only taken it out of the boot because she wanted to see how the jack worked, to make sure everything was there if she did get a puncture, and then the phone had rung and she’d had to rush over to Senor Marquez’s office. And then, like a complete fool, she’d forgotten about it completely.

And to turn the whole situation into a TOTAL farce, no matter how fast the shock of finding the puncture had sobered her up, as Sebastian had so helpfully pointed out, she was still way over the limit, couldn’t even use his car to escape.

Thank goodness Dodo had provided something of a distraction. Completely overexcited by the pursuit of her rat, she had come charging back to the garden door barking her head off like there was an enemy army marching down the drive. Sebastian had hauled her into the kitchen, clinging onto her collar as she tried to drag him outside, struggling to close the door. And then, because she obviously wanted everyone joining in the chase instead of sitting around the fire, she had howled by the hall door like a banshee, and then, when that didn’t work, had started pacing, grumbling, from the kitchen to the den and back again, her claws on the tiles setting Alex’s nerves on edge. It was still early, but there was no way she could stand any more of this stilted conversation, of their hedging around each other when really they both wanted to scream. Alex had yawned again, pointedly, and put her glass down on the floor. It was time for bed.

Upstairs, Sebastian held the door of the guest room open for her, reaching for the light switch.

‘
Here we are. The bathroom’s…’

‘
I know,’ then, conscious that she sounded sharp, Alex flicked him a smile. ‘Thanks, I’ll be fine.’

He hovered for a second, unsure what to say, then sighing, turned to go to his own room, ‘I’ll get that t-shirt.’

Looking around, Alex could see he was right about the décor. The guest rooms had changed little since she had last seen them, and this one was definitely in need of redecorating. The white paint was beginning to chip on the doors, the picture and dado rails, and the floral paper, once cheerful daisies on a sunshine yellow background now looked tired and dated. But the room was welcoming, the white candlewick bedspread spotless on the double bed, pillows piled high against the heavy oak headboard, the scents of lavender and roses rising from bowls of potpourri in the unexpected heat from the battered iron radiators. As she closed the door firmly behind her, relieved to be alone at last, Alex caught a snatch of their fragrance, overlaying a hint of mustiness, the blend like an olfactory photograph, an old dusty picture of a summer past, the corner creased, the colours faded, but the memories still strong…

Pulling off her scarf, throwing her jacket onto the bed, Alex unzipped her boots, kicking them off, peeling off the silk thermal socks she had lived in since she had arrived in Ireland, padding barefoot to the window to close the heavy Laura Ashley curtains, interlined to keep out the draughts. But she didn’t need to close them. No one could see in. This side of the house overlooked the lake. It had grown dark and the water reflected the sky like a mirror, the only movement created by fish occasionally breaking the surface, sending out gentle moonlit ripples in concentric circles that faded as they reached the edge. Beyond the lake the hills rose against the sky, trees clustered in lonely gossiping groups, black clouds rolling in above them.

Unbuttoning her shirt, Alex went to investigate the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when she opened the mirrored cabinet above the basin. Cleanser, cotton wool, a comb, toothpaste and a toothbrush still in its cellophane wrapper. Better than a hotel. And behind the door hung a fluffy white robe. Exactly what she needed. Marjorie Wingfield always had been the perfect hostess. Alex smiled, she was sure there would be a book in the bedside cabinet, notepaper and pens.

Pulling the robe off its hook, retracing her steps, Alex switched off the main light, and reaching under the faded shade of the bedside lamp, turning it on, immediately more relaxed in its soft glow. She’d always liked these rooms, had often helped air them when guests were expected; she pulled off her shirt – but she’d certainly never dreamed that she would be staying here.

Slipping out of her trousers, hanging them over the back of a chair, Alex caught sight of herself in the wardrobe mirror. She looked pale, dark shadows beginning to form under her eyes, her ivory silk cami and boy shorts draining her still further, the lace edges pale against her sallow skin. Perhaps an early night was wasn’t such a bad idea.

Before she had time to dwell on it, there was a knock at the door.

‘
Just a minute.’ Grabbing the robe, Alex pulled it on, the towelling fabric sliding over the slippery silk of her camisole, soft against her bare skin, and drew the belt tight.

‘
I’ve just brought you a...’ Alex opened the door before Sebastian had quite finished the sentence. And found herself staring at his naked chest. A tanned and well-muscled chest that tapered to a neat waist with absolutely no hint of excess.

Hearing his knock, she had intended to shoot out her hand, to grab the t-shirt and thank him, close the door as fast as she decently could, resealing herself in the relative safety of her room. So much for plan A…

Alex opened the door a fraction wider, a blush creeping up her neck, her lips open to speak. But the words got tangled up in themselves, catching in her throat, her eyes feeding way too much information, way too fast, for her brain to focus on speech at all.

In the few moments it had taken Sebastian to find the t-shirt, he had changed out of his navy suit trousers and white shirt, stood before her now in a pair of tattered jeans and scuffed rodeo boots. And nothing else. Alex could feel her face warming, her eyes locked on his chest. She opened her mouth again in the hope she could say something sensible, but he got there first.

‘
I…’ He stopped, searching for the right words, but Alex hardly noticed, suddenly felt terribly short without her heels. Sebastian seemed to be towering over her. He tried again.

‘
Look I’m sorry…’

‘
It’s fine…honestly.’ Alex didn’t know what he was apologising for but knew, right now, she needed to get the door closed before she did something stupid. Unfortunately, her body didn’t seem to be cooperating, and instead she felt the door open another inch.

‘
It’s not.’ Sebastian took a step towards her, the t-shirt still folded in his hands. ‘I’m really sorry. Oh God, I really am.’

Taking the opening door as an invitation, Sebastian walked straight in, matter of factly handing her the t-shirt as he brushed past, his face screwed up, wrestling with the words.

‘
Look, I really didn’t mean to shoot your dad, you must know that.’ Alex watched in amazement as Sebastian headed into the middle of the room, continuing to speak with his back to her, shoulders hunched, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans, ‘He…I…well, we’ve worked so closely together for years.’ Sebastian turned to look at her, his eyes beseeching. Alex hadn’t expected that. ‘I couldn’t run this place without him. He knows every blade of grass on this estate, knows where every badger set is, every…well just everything…’

Alex had no idea what to say. This was one of those Oh My God moments, and she was standing here like a total idiot, like her hand was glued to the door handle, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Clutching the t-shirt to her chest, her heart was beating like an anti-aircraft gun, spent bullet cases flying in every direction as they shot through the magazine, the enemy heading straight for her, the whites of pilot’s eyes almost visible through the cross hairs.

But no amount of sandbags could protect her now. Alex felt exposed. More vulnerable that he could ever know. Thank God she’d shaved her legs.

About to pull the door open, to say something sensible like, ‘I think you’d better go. We can talk about it in the morning…’ Sebastian turned away from her again, walked over to the window, leant on the windowsill, the muscles in his back rigid with tension.

What was that film, Clear and Present Danger? This was it.

Alex fought for breath, it was like he was sucking all the oxygen out of the room again. Right now there was only one thing she knew for sure – she couldn’t stand here all night, she had to get to safer ground where she could dig in and gather her scattered thoughts.

Throwing the t-shirt onto the bed, pulling the belt on her robe tighter, Alex tucked the collar in to cover her chest and slipped over to the bed. She felt like a teenager whose towel had slipped in the changing rooms.

Pulling her knees up underneath her, tucking the robe in under them, Alex leaned back on the headboard, trying to look relaxed, then, still feeling horribly exposed, pulled a pillow from under the counterpane beside her, holding it protectively on her knee. Much safer here with everything covered.

‘
I just don’t know…’ Sebastian started to say something, but trailed off, transferred his gaze from the view of the lake to the floor. He played with the fringes of a rug with the toe of his boot. Rugged and strong.

It was time she spoke. He might look gorgeous standing there, but in that one second that he had pulled the trigger of his shotgun Sebastian had hurt her more than Alex could ever say. She had missed so many years with her dad while she had been in Spain, so many good years, and then, when it really mattered, she’d let him down again, hadn’t been there for him when he needed her most. She bit her lip. After everything, she still hadn’t been able to protect him from the Wingfields.

Watching Sebastian, Alex could feel the emotion building, the tears hot in her eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Alex suddenly felt like she couldn’t hold it together any longer. She just wanted to scream at him like she knew Marina would have done, her fiery Spanish temper overriding every reserve. Go away, leave me alone. But that wasn’t her. Instead, Alex fought to keep her voice steady, caught the tears on her forefinger before they fell, hiding her grief; just like she’d hidden it in Barcelona.

‘
He loved working here.’ Alex’s voice caught, ‘That’s what’s so awful. He needs to be busy, to be outside, but he won’t be able to walk without a stick, might still end up in a wheelchair.’

Sebastian turned to face her. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, came and sat down on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His back to her, his elbows resting on his knees, head hanging, his voice was hardly more than a whisper.

‘
I know, I know. God you don’t understand. He’s been like a father to me since, since…I almost died myself when I saw him lying there…’

Sebastian turned to look at her over his shoulder, the tears forming in his eyes. ‘It’s all such a mess. I’m so sorry.’ He caught his breath, ‘And I’m sorry about the picture for what it’s worth. I did it years ago. I just…it’s just…well I’ve taken it with me everywhere I’ve lived and…’

Alex met his eye, her voice weakened by emotion, by desperation, ‘But why paint it? It’s just so…big.’

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, the scar on his chin pale through day-old stubble. He seemed to be searching for an answer, unable to find it. Alex felt his eyes on her, not seeing her sitting here now, but glazed, unfocused, like they were looking back into the past. Back sixteen years. Absentmindedly, he reached over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his hand hovering beside her face. The movement startled her, startled them both, their eyes locking. And they were back in the Mill House again, the air hot and heavy, dust dancing in the shafts of sunlight penetrating the rotten thatch.