enigmatic.
'The money would be useful for what I want to do here. Times are
hard, you know. You could give me a couple of days to think it
over, couldn't you? I'm sure your uncle would spare you for that.'
She bit her lip. In the circumstances, she knew Uncle Philip would
encourage her to stay for as long as was necessary, and Gethyn
knew it too. Besides, if she stayed, she might even be able to
achieve her primary purpose for coming here and discuss the
divorce with him.
'Or maybe you're not the businesswoman you think,' his taunting
voice went on. 'I'm sure your uncle wouldn't run out on a deal
simply because the going got rough.' His voice roughened. 'But
that's always been your way, hasn't it, cariad? You lack staying
power.'
'You say that—you dare to say that?' Her temper was rising
recklessly. 'It was you that ran out on me, remember?'
'I've forgotten nothing.' He was on his feet too. 'It's all filed
away—every look, every gesture, every movement.' His eyes went
over her suddenly and she gasped. She might have been naked
under his blazing glance. 'Every inch too.' He laughed savagely as
he saw her face. 'Don't look so terrified, Davina. That's one thing
two years of nothing but memories can do for you—it renders you
immune. Now get along to bed—my bed—and sleep well. You can,
for I won't be around to disturb your chaste slumbers.'
She stared at him, speechless with rage, her breasts rising and
falling under the impetus of her emotions, then she spun on her heel
and almost ran to the door. She wrenched at the handle, obsessed
with the idea that in spite of what he said, he was going to come
after her—try to stop her, but only his voice followed her.
'I advise you to stick around, Davina, in spite of everything. Who
knows? You might get everything you came here for. You're not the
only one who wants to be free— or did I forget to mention I'm
planning to get married again?'
For a moment she was motionless, rooted to the spot. Then, forcing
her suddenly nerveless limbs to action, she very quietly opened the
door and walked out into the darkened hall. Moving like an
automaton, she found her way upstairs to the empty bedroom and
went in.
There was a key in the lock, old and stiff, but her fingers forced it
to turn and when it was done, she leaned against the panels of the
door as if the effort had exhausted her, closing her eyes wearily.
But this is what you wanted, a small insistent voice inside her
reminded her. That is what you came all this way to hear. He's
going to let you have your divorce.
So there was no reason—none at all—why she should suddenly feel
so desolate.
The first thing she noticed when she awoke in the morning was that
everything looked grey. But as she lifted herself up on her elbow,
pushing her hair back from her face, she realised that this was no
reflection of her emotional state, but simply that the weather had
changed during the night and it was raining. The second thing that
occurred to her was that someone was knocking with a certain
amount of impatience on her bedroom door and rattling the handle.
'Oh.' Davina threw back the covers and slid her feet to the floor.
'Just a minute,' she called. 'I'm coming!'
She unlocked the door. Rhiannon was standing on the threshold,
holding a cup of tea. She looked furious.
'What kind of daft game d'you call that—locking your door?' she
demanded, thrusting the cup at Davina so that some of the tea
spilled into the saucer. 'Those ways may do in London, but we have
no call to lock our doors round here. We aren't thieves.'
Davina met her angry look coolly. 'I never intended to suggest any
such thing,' she said. 'Force of habit, I suppose.'
Before weariness had overcome her the previous night, she had lain
awake for nearly an hour, Gethyn's parting words beating in her
brain. She had been forced to the conclusion that in spite of what
Huw Morgan might think, Rhiannon's feelings for
'The money would be useful for what I want to do here. Times are
hard, you know. You could give me a couple of days to think it
over, couldn't you? I'm sure your uncle would spare you for that.'
She bit her lip. In the circumstances, she knew Uncle Philip would
encourage her to stay for as long as was necessary, and Gethyn
knew it too. Besides, if she stayed, she might even be able to
achieve her primary purpose for coming here and discuss the
divorce with him.
'Or maybe you're not the businesswoman you think,' his taunting
voice went on. 'I'm sure your uncle wouldn't run out on a deal
simply because the going got rough.' His voice roughened. 'But
that's always been your way, hasn't it, cariad? You lack staying
power.'
'You say that—you dare to say that?' Her temper was rising
recklessly. 'It was you that ran out on me, remember?'
'I've forgotten nothing.' He was on his feet too. 'It's all filed
away—every look, every gesture, every movement.' His eyes went
over her suddenly and she gasped. She might have been naked
under his blazing glance. 'Every inch too.' He laughed savagely as
he saw her face. 'Don't look so terrified, Davina. That's one thing
two years of nothing but memories can do for you—it renders you
immune. Now get along to bed—my bed—and sleep well. You can,
for I won't be around to disturb your chaste slumbers.'
She stared at him, speechless with rage, her breasts rising and
falling under the impetus of her emotions, then she spun on her heel
and almost ran to the door. She wrenched at the handle, obsessed
with the idea that in spite of what he said, he was going to come
after her—try to stop her, but only his voice followed her.
'I advise you to stick around, Davina, in spite of everything. Who
knows? You might get everything you came here for. You're not the
only one who wants to be free— or did I forget to mention I'm
planning to get married again?'
For a moment she was motionless, rooted to the spot. Then, forcing
her suddenly nerveless limbs to action, she very quietly opened the
door and walked out into the darkened hall. Moving like an
automaton, she found her way upstairs to the empty bedroom and
went in.
There was a key in the lock, old and stiff, but her fingers forced it
to turn and when it was done, she leaned against the panels of the
door as if the effort had exhausted her, closing her eyes wearily.
But this is what you wanted, a small insistent voice inside her
reminded her. That is what you came all this way to hear. He's
going to let you have your divorce.
So there was no reason—none at all—why she should suddenly feel
so desolate.
The first thing she noticed when she awoke in the morning was that
everything looked grey. But as she lifted herself up on her elbow,
pushing her hair back from her face, she realised that this was no
reflection of her emotional state, but simply that the weather had
changed during the night and it was raining. The second thing that
occurred to her was that someone was knocking with a certain
amount of impatience on her bedroom door and rattling the handle.
'Oh.' Davina threw back the covers and slid her feet to the floor.
'Just a minute,' she called. 'I'm coming!'
She unlocked the door. Rhiannon was standing on the threshold,
holding a cup of tea. She looked furious.
'What kind of daft game d'you call that—locking your door?' she
demanded, thrusting the cup at Davina so that some of the tea
spilled into the saucer. 'Those ways may do in London, but we have
no call to lock our doors round here. We aren't thieves.'
Davina met her angry look coolly. 'I never intended to suggest any
such thing,' she said. 'Force of habit, I suppose.'
Before weariness had overcome her the previous night, she had lain
awake for nearly an hour, Gethyn's parting words beating in her
brain. She had been forced to the conclusion that in spite of what
Huw Morgan might think, Rhiannon's feelings for
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