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She could hardly bear to look at him, overwhelmed by an almost irresistable urge to touch this giant-sized, alluring man. But her response to his magnetism was nipped in the bud by the sound of a car careering up to the house in Adele Wickham’s unmistakable style, informing everyone of the identity of Rex’s dinner companion.

As he threw her a malicious smile of farewell, Davina was aware of an uncharitable hope that news of Adele’s latest flirtation would reach Camshaw Hall and the Squire’s ears. If Rex allowed himself the indulgence of escorting a girl as beautiful as Adele, gossip about herself would inevitably soon be dismissed as nonsense. But as she watched the car disappear, she knew it would be about a million to one chance if the Comstones so much as listened when Adele’s name was mentioned. By this time, the whole neighbourhood must know that both she and her brother were no longer welcome at the Hall.

Still, one never knew. If Rex could spread scandalous gossip, so could she! But for this she had to have opportunity, and tonight was the first time since the disclosure of his true identity that Rex had left her to her own devices.

It was getting dark by the time the meal ended, the old man went out for one last look at the animals and Peter to bid the horse a loving farewell. Seeing the keys for the Land Rover lying on the dresser, Davina decided to see if she could start it and run them home. In case Rex had once again removed the rotor arm she said nothing before going out to the open barn where the vehicle was parked.

Taped to the steering wheel was a note. ‘I don’t doubt you’ll try and give Farr and the boy a ride home, but in case you’re thinking of taking advantage of my absence, I’ve made a note of the mileage. Straight to the village and straight back.’

There was no signature. There was no need of one. Davina’s soft lips tightened as she snatched at the note, screwed it into a ball and threw it furiously on to the ground. Was there no getting the better of her gaoler? It seemed he was prepared for every move she might make.

When she had dropped off her passengers she drove half way back to the farm before pulling off the road and dimming the headlights. She wished she had the courage to call Rex’s bluff, but she was too afraid of the consequences to risk an act of open defiance. Rex wasn’t the kind to issue idle threats and she knew him to be a force to be reckoned with, one who had never come her way before.

His manner towards her these last few days convinced her he had no intention of forgoing his plan of revenge and that he really had gone to the trouble of tracing her whereabouts and travelling thousands of miles simply to make her pay for what Rex considered had been criminal disregard for the feelings of his younger brother. If Davina thought there was the remotest chance of convincing him, she would have tried to make Rex see she had merely taken pity on Barr, seeing how lonely and out of things he had looked amidst that throng of seagoing merrymakers.

But she shied away from even the attempt, imagining the look of contempt which would cross his face, the blighting sentence with which he would dismiss her explanation. She was contemplating yet another humiliating confrontation with her relentless employer when Jim Thomas appeared beside the Land Rover saying, ‘You were miles away. I honked twice before I pulled up behind you. What are you doing all alone here this time of night. Broken down?’

Davina summoned a smile. ‘No, just wishing I was dressing up to go to a theatre.’ It was the first thing which popped into her head as an explanation for lacklustre eyes and a drooping curve to her lips.

‘Oh, if that’s all that’s troubling you we can soon put it right. Not tonight—I’m on call. But tomorrow put on your glad rags and I’ll take you into Carlisle to sample a bit of North Country night life. See you around seven. Be ready 1’ and with a pat on her arm, Jim turned and went back to his car.

As soon as he had driven away with a wave of his hand, Davina started the engine and made her way back to Nineveh. To be able to escape the atmosphere of animosity even for one evening would be a relief. Jim’s cheerful, uncomplicated manner was exactly the tonic she needed, and by bedtime she had finished a neat short story about a nineteen-year-old girl who cleverly turned the tables on the sophisticated man of the world who had planned her downfall.

But despite preparing for bed with the satisfaction of knowing she had written a clever story, as soon as the light was out, her imagination set to work. Regardless of good intentions, her thoughts kept returning to Rex and Adele. Where were they now? Was Rex holding that sinuous body in his long arms, rousing Adele with the same expertise he had used on herself? Two big tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she remembered how incredibly gentle those large brown hands could be, how her body had responded. Her whole inside ached as pulling the bedclothes right over her head, she curled up, one huge ball of misery.

There were violet shadows under her dark eyes when she went down next morning to prepare the breakfast, and Rex coming in from outdoors to sit and attack a huge plate of bacon, sausages and eggs as if he hadn’t a care in the world did nothing to raise her sinking spirits. They were halfway through their now customary silent mealtime when he suddenly took a long envelope out of his pocket and threw it down on the table.

‘That came for you yesterday. Sorry, but I forgot to give it to you.'

He didn’t sound sorry, and as Davina picked up the envelope and saw the typewritten address she intercepted the unpleasant smile Rex was slanting in her direction.

‘Not bad news, I hope,’ he said suavely as she took out the contents of the envelope and a brief businesslike letter from the publisher informed her that the two pilot short stories had been satisfactory.

‘Much you’d care if it were,’ Davina answered tardy before she could check her unruly tongue, and Rex’s instant soft, ‘Oh, getting our second wind, are we?’ made her bite her lip for giving him an opening.

She fixed her eyes on her plate, for his nearness, the soft beguiling tone of his last remark were having their inevitable effect. Despite her conviction that he had probably made mad, passionate love to Adele Wickham only hours ago, all she desired was to wrap her arms around this man, lay her cheek against the V of sun-browned skin revealed by the unbuttoned shirt and feel his arms close round her slim body.

What had happened to turn her into such a spineless girl, ready to tumble headlong into his arms at the drop of a hat? Peeping at Rex as he poured himself a third cup of strong, black tea, Davina had difficulty in remembering he was nothing more than a heartless monster. She would have given ten dates with Jim Thomas for just one genuinely kind word from the man sitting two feet away and calmly rolling himself his after-breakfast cigarette.

All she got, however, as he rose and pushed in his chair, was an aloof command, ‘Have a decent hot meal ready for one o’clock. The wind is really icy this morning, but the old man insists on coming along to show me how they make the winter sheep shelters up here. I intend to see he has a good feed and knocks off early,’ and he was gone.

Why couldn’t he extend a little of this thoughtfulness towards her? Davina thought savagely, but at least a proper midday meal meant a light supper which would give her the opportunity to bath and change at her leisure before her date this evening. Cold meat there was in plenty, she saw when she went to check the contents of the larder. She smiled as she imagined Rex’s surprise that evening when he saw the table only laid for one.

But when she emerged from the bathroom later that evening, her freshly washed hair bundled up into a towel, she walked straight into Rex and there was a distinctly uncompromising slant to his stern mouth.

He pulled her towards the kitchen table and gestured to the cold buffet she had prepared. 'I've had a long day and expect a decent meal when I come in—not this!'

Rather to her own astonishment, Davina found herself stammering excuses. ‘You had an enormous three-course meal at lunchtime, Surely cold meat, salad and pickles are sufficient? I’m going into Carlisle for the evening with Jim Thomas.’

Silence followed her words as, hands on his hips, Rex surveyed her slowly from her face down to her feet and back again. It was an insolent, unreassuring look and Davina felt a throb of fear. However, his voice was quite expressionless as he said, ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I want something hot. Chops with a couple of eggs will do. I’ll let you off a dessert. Cheese and biscuits will suffice.’

Davina counted silently to ten, took a deep breath, said, ‘Very well,’ and turned to go and dress.

Rex, she discovered, was between her and the door. ‘Now,’ he replied implacably.

Looking up in astonishment to meet his eyes, she gestured towards her dressing gown. ‘Like this?’

‘Why not? I daresay it’s not the first time you’ve prepared a meal for a man clad only in your dressing gown.’

The implication was outrageous and Davina’s face slowly flushed as the calculated insult hit home. Turning, she stalked, back ramrod-stiff, towards the pantry and in complete silence began to arrange chops in the frying pan. She was aware that Rex watched her every move as she took away the cold food, made the inevitable tea and turned the sizzling chops. Anger stiffened her resolve to give him no hint of her embarrassment as the dressing gown loosened with every move she made.

She had just placed the plate before him on the table when the distinctive sound of Jim’s station wagon negotiating the farm lane reached her ears. Davina gave a gasp and said quickly, ‘Keep Jim talking while I dress. I’ll be down in ten minutes.’

Rex grinned unkindly. ‘Take your time. There’s no need to hurry, I can assure you.’

No hurry! Davina thought furiously as she scrambled into clean undies and laddered two pairs of tights in her haste. When she unwrapped the towel from her hair, she stared aghast—for tonight, of all nights, her usually manageable hair was sticking out in all directions. Rex’s fault, for normally she combed her curls into place while they were still wet. Tonight, still in the turban, they had dried as she cooked.

She was trying to make the last curl do her bidding with an extra application of hair lacquer when she heard Jim’s car start up, and abandoning any further attempt to improve her appearance, she picked up her coat and handbag and hurried downstairs.

Rex was still sitting over the remains of his meal, but he was alone. Something about his mocking smile as he looked up rang a warning bell in Davina’s head as she asked, ‘Has Jim really gone?’ and at Rex’s nod added bluntly, ‘Why?’

‘Perhaps because I told him you’d gone to bed with a migraine,’ Rex replied unhesitatingly. ‘I did tell you several days ago that you were not free to go anywhere without my say-so. What gave you the idea I’m not a man of my word?’

He got up with the words and his calm air of authority was the last straw. Losing her last shreds of self-control, Davina hurled herself at him, pummelling his broad chest with ineffectual fists until one large hand came up and imprisoned them. Holding her firmly at arm’s length while she still struggled impotently, Rex said tauntingly, ‘What’s happened to that British stiff upper lip we Australians are always hearing about?' and goaded beyond endurance, Davina burst into a storm of weeping.

Immediately he pulled out a chair and thrust her into it. A large white handkerchief, smelling faintly of tobacco, was pushed into her hands and he ordered, not unkindly, ‘Mop up. If I know women, this time tomorrow you’ll be downright ashamed of letting yourself go so thoroughly. What you need is a good cup of tea,’ and while Davina struggled for self-control he filled the kettle.

She wiped streaming eyes, blew her nose defiantly, then spoiled the whole effect by emitting a hiccoughing sob. To her surprise, this seemed to melt Rex a little, because he asked quite kindly as the kettle started to sing, ‘Fancy some buttered toast with your tea?’

She shook her head as he placed a clean cup and saucer at her elbow. ‘Just a drink, thank you,’ she said in a low voice, and looked up to meet his eyes. It was impossible to gauge his mood, but she was dismally conscious of tear-blotched cheeks and dishevelled hair. How immature she must appear compared with Adele’s sophistication and ‘woman of the world’ manner I She buried her nose in her teacup and wondered what Rex would say next.

But having poured himself a cup of the fresh tea he was stirring it in silence, his face more granite-like than usual. It came as something of an anticlimax, therefore, when he put his cup down and said, ‘I’m going to put in a couple of hours getting my paper work up to date. Get an early night,’ before the door to the study closed behind him.

Since
Rex had given a fictitious migraine as the excuse for dismissing Jim Thomas the evening before, it was rather ironical that Davina awoke the following morning with a genuine headache. Even aspirin failed to relieve the sensation of ten little men with hammers busily at work inside her head, and she was not too surprised therefore when Rex suddenly remarked, ‘What’s the matter? You’re as pale as suet pudding this morning.'

She grimaced inwardly. Rex certainly did not believe in flattery! ‘Just a headache,’ she answered.

‘You don’t get enough fresh air. As soon as you’ve cleared up here bring a flask of tea to the far pasture. Farr’s not coming up today, so we can lunch off that cold stuff you were so keen for me to finish up.’

Davina looked away, for she could imagine the expression on his face, but at least this was better than being ignored. As soon as he had left the house she tidied the kitchen, made the beds and put all the laundry in the dirty linen basket, then pulling on her thickest trousers, she added a high-necked matching jumper and her hooded anorak.

The wind was blowing strongly from the east, but it was good to be out. Davina had put some scones in a plastic bag along with the thermos of tea and as she topped the rise and met the full force of the wild moorland breeze she hitched the bag higher on her shoulder and turned up the collar on the anorak. Far away in the distance she could just make out Rex as he moved among the sheep, a tiny dot for all his size. He must have eyes like a hawk, she thought, for suddenly she saw him raise a hand and wave in her direction.