Lure of the Falcon Read online

  'Mr and Mrs de Courcey don't blame me,' he cut across her anxious thoughts. 'They know I forbade Diane to ride Pendelico. I'd told her often enough, and in their hearing too, and they upheld me. But Diane wasn't used to being refused anything she set her" heart on.'

  `You couldn't have guessed she'd do anything so silly,' Wyn protested.

  'I should have known she'd try something. From the time she was little she would always do something wild

  if she was thwarted in any way. To try and get her own back, I suppose.'

  Diane had 'had her own back' with a vengeance now, Wyn thought drearily, and destroyed the stallion in the process. Was there no limit to a spoiled girl's determination to get her own way? And it looked as if she still might get her wish and marry Russell—and probably destroy him, too.

  'Don't wait for me, Wyn.' His words hit her like a blow, almost as if he had been reading her thoughts, and her heart turned to ice within her.

  'I'll wait.' Her voice came in a desperate gasp. Surely it was better to wait until they knew if Diane was badly injured or not? There could be no need for Rusell to make up his mind about it, now. No need for him to sacrifice himself unless there was cause.

  'What's the point? I'll be staying here most of the night, I expect, and you need your beauty sleep.' His voice became firm, once more in control of the situation. 'Go to bed, and I'll come and tell you how things are in the morning.'

  'You mean don't wait up?' She could have laughed aloud with relief.

  'Tell Val not to wait, either. I'll get a taxi back, it'll save him the double journey. I'll see you in the morning.' He paused, and for a second Wyn wondered if he had put the receiver down, then, 'We can talk then ...'

  'Yes, we can talk.'

  She mounted the stairs on leaden feet, entered her . room, the bride's room which might never be hers now, to face the long, agonising wait through the night: Surely, even if Diane was badly injured, Russell could

  not contemplate destroying his own happiness and hers to marry a girl he did not love? There must be some other way. The thoughts ran round and round in her head, driving her off the comfortable bed to pace the room as anxiously as Val had done earlier, and finally, as the events of the day took their toll and exhaustion set in, she collapsed into the deeply padded window seat, drawing the curtain aside so that she could see out along the long, dark, tree-lined drive, and watch for headlights turning in through the Lodge gates, that would tell her Russell had come home.

  Through a haze of returning consciousness she heard his voice speak to her, felt his arms about her, and a sensation of being lifted up. Drowsily she tried to return to sleep, so that she might not lose the comfort of the dream.

  'You'll rest better in bed.' She opened her eyes to the reality of Russell's face above her, holding her close to him as he picked her up from the window seat as effortlessly as if she was a child, and carried her gently across to the bed. 'I told you not to wait up for me,' he scolded her softly.

  'You told me not to wait ...'

  'There was no sense in us both losing sleep.'. He did not understand the implied difference, and she did not point it out to him. His face was drawn and exhausted after his long vigil, and she struggled to a sitting position as he lowered her down on to the bed.

  'Have you had anything to eat or drink?' He looked as if he had had neither for hours, and Wyn's native common sense made her thrust aside her own feelings for the moment in the need to be practical.

  'I've had both, at the hospital. I had to coax Diane's

  parents to eat a meal, and the best way was to pretend to feel hungry myself,' he smiled faintly. 'All I really want now is sleep, but I thought I'd drop in and let you know the latest news if you were awake.' He looked down at her from his seat on the side of her bed, his arms still closely around her dressing-gown-clad figure.

  `You must be exhausted.' Concern for him drove all other thoughts out of her mind, even Diane.

  `She's regained consciousness, her hat saved her head from any great harm.' Russell gave her the information she wanted most in the world. 'She's got slight concussion, but the doctors aren't worried about that. It's her back ...' His voice was troubled. 'She bruised herself badly when she fell. Apparently she came off like a bullet from a gun when—Pendelico—fell,' he swallowed hard and went on, 'You saw how far away she landed, and she landed on her back.'

  'Bruises will heal,' Wyn cried desperately, as much to convince herself as to convince him.

  'If they're only bruises, yes. She's got to have some tests of some kind tomorrow. X-rays, I expect. They wouldn't disturb her while she was unconscious, but we should know more tomorrow.'

  'Then get some rest. We can face whatever comes in the morning.' Wyn did not want to face the morning. She wanted to go to sleep now, and never wake up. If she could only remain as she was, for ever, in Russell's arms, her head resting on his shoulder, the world would be well lost, she felt, envying the miniature Doulton figurine of a shepherd lad and his dainty milkmaid sweetheart that rested on the table by their side, with their arms entwined in a timeless porcelain embrace,

  heedless of everything but the flower-garlanded bliss that was theirs.

  She felt him sigh, and stirred. 'Go to bed, and try to rest,' she urged him, her face a pale entreaty upturned towards his.

  'It won't be long now before dawn, but I'll rest until then.' He lowered his head and his lips brushed hers, lightly, caressingly, then with, a fierce, bruising hunger that would not be denied. His arms tightened, drawing her to him, matching the pressure of his kiss. 'Oh, Wyn darling ...' For a brief, agonising moment he held her close, then with a muttered exclamation he thrust her from him. 'Whatever happens in the morning,' he told her hoarsely, 'remember—always remember—that I love you.' And then he was gone, and the door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness of the bride's room, wondering unhappily if she would ever be his bride.

  He was gone when she got up the next morning.

  'He had his breakfast early, and went straight off to the hospital,' Nanny told her, standing over Wyn until she was satisfied that she had eaten at least some breakfast, if not the substantial one she thought she should have.

  'I'll go for a walk before I start work,' she decided aloud. 'A breath of fresh air might wake me up.'

  'It might put a bit of colour into your cheeks.' The children's nurse looked at her disapprovingly, noting-the dark smudges under her eyes that were even more noticeable than they had been the previous morning.

  'Can we come?' Jane begged, divining her intention as she headed for the bridge over the stream.

  'You're not to bother Miss Wyn this morning,' their

  nurse began, but Wyn smiled at the child, and held out her hand.

  'I'd be glad of their company,' she confessed, 'unless you want them for anything?'

  'No, go along, while,' take Mrs Tylar her breakfast. And yes, they know,' Nanny answered Wyn's unspoken question.

  `Gran told us,' Jon said soberly, with a wary glance in the direction of his sister, whose small face still bore traces of .tears. 'What'll Uncle Russell do now? For his stud, I mean?' He manfully kept his own chin high, though Wyn saw with compassion that his lips quivered.

  'He still has the foal, you know,' she reminded him quietly. 'He's a boy, like you said; it'll mean waiting a few years, that's all.' She tried to speak lightly. 'Let's go and see how the little chap's getting along,' she suggested, hurriedly offering a diversion. 'You can collect Scamp from the stable at the same time, and bring him with us,' she relented. 'But not until we've been to see the foal. Scamp's too lively first thing in the morning, and the mare might not like it.' She checked their headlong rush to the stable door, and hardened her heart CO the terrier's desperate howls for freedom.

  `He's doing well, miss,' Corporal Benny beckoned her inside. 'Yes, it's all right for the children to come, they know they must be quiet, and move gently so as not to frighten him.' He gave them a cautious warning, which was n
ot really needed, Wyn saw with relief; their manner towards the mare and foal was impeccable, speaking of careful training. Jon held out his hand and offered the proud mother an apple, which she took with evident delight.

  'We always took her a titbit in the morning, it seems a shame to stop now—she expects one from us,' he said gravely, and offered his fingers to the foal which immediately sucked at them, bringing a smile to his small, woebegone face that Wyn was thankful to see. Diane's outrageous behaviour had caused misery even to the children, and Wyn found it hard to forgive her for that.

  `His knees aren't wobbly any more. He's standings well.' Jon already had his uncle's discerning eye.

  'Aye, he'll be a real little treasure.' Corporal Benny surveyed the leggy little creature with pride.

  'That's what we'll call him.' Jane jumped up and down excitedly. 'It's a lovely name.'

  'It's better than the one you thought of before,' her brother conceded loftily. 'She said to call him Beauty, and there isn't a black spot on him.' His scorn was withering.

  'Tie a knot in your hanky so you'll remember what it is,' Wyn intervened hastily, 'and we'll ask your uncle what he thinks as soon as he gets back.' Russell, as well as the children, would need a diversion for his thoughts, and what better than naming the foal, that watched them with luminous baby eyes, innocently trusting. Remembering how its sire had fared at Diane's hands, Wyn hoped it would always find the human race as friendly as it did now. She had an instinct that Russell would never willingly part with the foal, which should ensure it a good home for the rest of its life. Treasure. Treasure of Tylar

  'I think it's a lovely name.' She kept the train of thought going, as much to keep herself from brooding as the children. That's what Russell had called her. His

  treasure. And now he was prepared to squander it, on dross.

  Without conscious thought her feet guided her away from the paddocks, keeping to the avenue of trees that led to the half ruined folly at the end, standing picturesquely ivy-clad, a monument to wasted effort. Her own life would be wasted without Russell. Her steps slowed, lagging behind the children who joyfully descended on the gloomy pile, Jon in the vocal hope that he might disturb a roosting owl, and Jane to pull a handful of dogrose buds to bear back in triumph to the nursery.

  Wyn helped her to find a jamjar and arrange them along with a handful of flowering grasses when they returned to the house, and wondered, as she looked at them, why beauty had the power to hurt.

  `Now I must start work,' regretfully she refused the children's blandishments. 'I'll come out and play in the maze for a while afterwards,' and they departed, satisfied with her promise, and leaving her wishing wearily that she could see her way out of the maze of doubt and, uncertainty that seemed to have closed round herself and Russell and offered no way out.

  `Do you need a hand with any pictures?' Val stuck his head round the door and offered his services, conscious that Russell had helped her with the heavier items until now.

  `No, I've finished with those, there's only the furniture in this room, and then I'm through.' Wyn had finished the job she had come to do, and unless she found Tempest Tylar's will among the cupboards and drawers surrounding her, she had failed in the most important part of it.

  'In that case, I'm going to the flying field for a few hours.' Val prowled restlessly, not quite knowing how to cope with the continued strain.

  'You might as well,' Wyn agreed readily. Occupation would be the best thing for him. And for herself. 'Russell probably won't be home for some hours, and the time will pass more quickly with something to do.'

  It was a philosophy that didn't seem to apply to herself. She found it difficult to concentrate, every sound from the house was a distraction, and she ran to the window three times on hearing, a vehicle in the drive. The postman, the baker, and the milkman each saluted her with a cheery wave, and the next time she heard a car arrive she resolutely remained where she was, half way up the steps Russell had bought for her, determinedly investigating the top of a fine inlaid cabinet that disappointingly revealed no sign of a hidden crevice that might possibly contain a will.

  'Who cares about a will?'

  Wyn gasped as Russell came up behind her and caught her about the waist, swinging her gaily off her perch.

  'You're back! '

  'And here to stay,' he grinned as he set her on her feet. 'At least, with you, if not at the Grange.' His gaiety was infectious, and she allowed herself to be twirled in an impromptu dance across the parquet floor before she collected her wits and her breath sufficiently to demand an explanation of his behaviour.

  'Everything's all right. They've given Diane all sorts of X-rays and tests and things,' he gestured vaguely, 'and they say there isn't a crack in her anywhere,' he cried jubilantly. 'Oh, Wyn, I'm so relieved!' He looked

  ten years younger than he had when he left her in the small hours of the morning, even lack of rest could not destroy his high spirits.

  'Has Diane said anything?' How would she excuse her behaviour? Wyn wondered, knowing as she did how much his stallion had meant to Russell.

  'She blamed Pefidelico. She said he bolted.' His face hardened.

  'Russell,' she tightened her arms about him, 'I'm sorry—about Pendelico—' She faltered to a halt. What words were adequate to ease such a hurt? she wondered miserably.

  'It's hard to bear, losing him,' he replied soberly, not attempting to bypass the subject. 'But when I thought I might lose you too—well, it brought things into perspective a bit,' he admitted quietly.

  'Does Diane know she's going to be all right?'

  'Yes, she knows. She refused to accept it at first. She played up a bit, wanted me to stay with her, and so on ...' Wyn could imagine the scene. The tears and entreaties; the clinging hands, and then the tantrums when Diane found that for once she was not going to get her own way. 'The doctor there was pretty firm. He told her to stop her nonsense,' he remembered incredulously. 'I don't think anyone had ever spoken to her like that before. And it worked! I think maybe the fact that he'd got curly auburn hair and an attractive smile might have had something to do with it,' he added drily, and Wyn chuckled, a rich, happy sound that lowered his head above hers.

  'There's only one question left to answer now,' she murmured happily, several minutes later.

  'Only one,' he agreed, smiling down into her eyes.

  'How soon will you marry me?' he voiced it.

  'Not that—I mean about the will,' she laughed at his deliberate misunderstanding.

  'As if that matters, now ' he exclaimed, then, 'Yes, it does matter. It matters more than ever, now I've got you.'

  'It doesn't, to me,' she murmured. But it would matter when they had an heir. She didn't voice her thoughts, that belonged to the future. The long, happy years when they would be together, and an heir would come in the natural fulfilment of time. For now they had one another.

  'You've got the foal,' she reminded him gently, trying to erase the shadow that still remained in his eyes when he thought of Pendelico. 'The children think they've found a name for him. Treasure,' she tried it out again, and saw from the way Russell's face lit up that he liked it. 'Treasure of Tylar.'

  `Tylar's found its own treasure,' he kissed her gently, `but we'll let the foal share the name as well, if you like. He can be your wedding present, from me.' He gave her his most prized possession.

  'We'll share him,' she countered softly. He would need something to fill the gap left by Pendelico.

  'There's a gentleman to see you, Mr Russell.' Nanny knocked discreetly at the door, and beamed largely on them as they turned to face her, still contentedly in one another's arms. 'It's Mr Avery, the solicitor. I've put him in the study, and Mrs Louise has gone in with him, and Mr Val. He's just back from his flying,' she informed them.

  'Maybe he's found the will?' Wyn looked up at Russell hopefully.

  `More probably he's come on another errand I asked him to do for me,' he answered. 'Let's go and see.' He kept hold of he
r hand, drawing her with him when she would have hung back. 'You're family too,' he reminded her. 'Whatever concerns me, concerns you as well.'

  `It's about that faked hallmark you asked me to investigate, Mr Tylar.' The elderly solicitor rose and bowed over Wyn's hand with olde-worlde courtesy before he announced his business, and Wyn drew in an apprehensive breath.

  Don't let there be more trouble, she begged silently. She could not bear further disharmony on this day that had been clouded as darkly as any she had ever known, and now shone with happiness that simply must not be tarnished.

  'Did you find what I suspected?' Russell sat down on the settee, drawing Wyn on to his knee possessively, as if he could not bear to let her out of his reach.

  `Exactly as you suspected,' the solicitor nodded gravely. 'I travelled to Manchester myself to see your late uncle's manservant, and he confirmed what you had already guessed. Your late brother-in-law, ma'am,' he turned to Louise, 'was not entirely—ah--responsible during the latter part of his life. He held a grudge against the world—justifiably, as you know—and he must have decided to even the score a little, and create confusion by altering the hallmarks on some of his collection of silver. Fortunately he only had time to tamper with the one piece,' he finished with relief.

  `So that's what all that welding equipment was for,' Val exclaimed. 'There was no end of the stuff in the coach house, I used it to mend Diane's battery carrier.'

  Thank goodness it wasn't Val! Wyn heaved a small, private sigh of relief. She had never seriously suspected the boy, but just the same it was good to know the real culprit; it left no lingering doubt behind.