Lure of the Falcon Page 4

  'Goodness! I'm sorry.' She hadn't heard Russell coming, striding along the corridor with the easy step of an athlete in his soft-soled suede shoes. She grabbed at him to stop herself from falling, and he instantly put his arm about her, lifting her as if she was feather-light, the muscles of his arm felt hard as whipcord through the thin wool of her ribbed sweater.

  'It's my fault, I left my audible warning system behind. It sounds as if they're catching up with me, though,' he smiled ruefully, gesturing behind him to where the, voices of the two children could be heard in the distance.,

  'I thought I'd get a breath of fresh air before breakfast.' Wyn felt confused, conscious that her colour was high, and conscious too that he still held her, making sure that she was completely steady on her feet before he let her go. Thank goodness Diane didn't live in the house; it would be the last straw if she saw them like this, she would misinterpret it to Wyn's disadvantage, she felt sure. Her cheeks grew even pinker at the thought. 'It looks a pleasant walk under the trees.' She said the first thing that came into her head, gesturing towards the avenue of trees striding across the park with military precision, feeling his eyes on her with a strange expression in them that she couldn't fathom, and didn't want to; she had enough puzzles on her mind with his uncle's letter already, she told herself.

  'That's where we're going—the children and I.' He strolled with her to the windows, dropping his arm as she moved away, and thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his black slacks. He had rolled up the sleeves of his woolly of the same Stygian shade so that his arms showed deeply tanned, and bare to the elbow. 'As far

  as the Folly,' he indicated a ruined building that showed at the end of the trees, and which Wyn hadn't noticed in the twilight of the evening before. 'One of the many my family has committed.' He said it softly, almost to himself, but with a bitterness that reminded Wyn of the description of his 'uncle given to her by his old nurse the night before. 'It made him bitter ...' It was a gall that, running through the clear stream of a human life, could cloud it so that it tainted all it touched, and in his uncle's case at least had reached out beyond eternity to trouble those who were left to carry on.

  'Are you coming with us?' The two children pattered along the corridor and caught them up.

  'Wyn may not be feeling so energetic as you two,' Russell began, and Wyn spoke up quickly, without thinking.

  'I'd love to. That is,' she hesitated, 'if you don't mind?' She wished she hadn't spoken. It would have been nice to go with the children, but their uncle's company was too much of a good thing before breakfast, she thought ruefully. And he hadn't seconded Jon's invitation, so their feelings might be mutual.

  'Come by all means, you'll find your way about more easily if you know the lie of the land.' He hadn't changed his mind about her staying on and doing the job, then, she thought with relief.

  'We're going to collect Scamp from the stables first,' Jon informed her. 'Gran says he mustn't sleep indoors, he's too b b ' He looked up at his uncle for help.

  'Too boisterous, and she's right,' Russell smiled. How human he seemed when he was with the children, Wyn thought, watching the relaxed expression on his

  face that had not been there the night before when they had been studying the letter. 'Don't let his lead trail,' he called as they followed the pair out into the sunshine, and paused to wait for them while they unbolted the stable door and loosed the shrilly vocal young dog out of his night-time confinement. 'Either hold the end of it, or unclip it from his collar.' Russell bent and captured the cavorting animal, but Wyn noticed he held out the end of the lead to Jon, and left the decision to him, paying him the compliment of being able to make up his own mind. The two children seemed well disciplined, but Wyn added another point in Russell's favour in that he did not seek to unnecessarily impose his own strong will on theirs. The boy had a confident, fearless manner that sat well on his six years, that Wyn judged him to be.

  'I'll loose him, I think,' Jon decided after a moment's reflection. 'He's pretty good at coming when he's called, and if he looks like being naughty, you're here to shout to him.' Russell's lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled with quick amusement as they met Wyn's, but he made no comment.

  'If he's free we can throw his ball for him.' Jane tossed it in her hands, teasing the pup, and all three 'of them scampered away in front of the grown-ups.

  'Did you remember to bring the sugar?' Jon paused as they reached the rise of the bridge over the stream.

  'It's in my pocket,' Russell told him, and the boy ran off satisfied.

  'Is it for Pendelico?' This must be a regular morning stroll to see the horses, Wyn guessed.

  'Some of it, the rest is for one of the mares.' Russell accepted her interest easily, not as if she was prying, as

  Wyn half feared he might since his prickly reaction to her of the evening before. She had told him her background, and that she herself rode, so he probably took interest in horses for granted.

  I'll have to stop being so edgy about his reactions to every word I utter, she scolded herself silently. I'll soon be afraid to think when he's anywhere near me, in case he can read my mind.

  'Is she a special favourite?' She stopped her thoughts anyway just in case, and spoke out loud.

  'She's in foal to Pendelico. She's the first.' There was pride in his voice, and suddenly she felt she wanted him to go on talking, so that she could watch his reserve blown away by enthusiasm, and catch a glimpse of the man who hid behind the stern exterior that so reminded her of a marble statue.

  'Properly managed, this would make fine grazing ground. You could raise horses here without any trouble. The Tylar stud ...' She tried out the name on her tongue, and Russell stiffened.

  'How did you know?' His voice was sharp. 'Did Val tell you—or Nanny?' So he had remembered her visitor of the night before.

  'Tell me what?' Exasperation edged Wyn's voice. I've done it again, she thought resignedly. Really, being with Russell Tylar was like picking your way over a minefield, you never knew what would trigger off the next explosion. 'It sounded a good name, that's all,' she commented mildly. 'I know what I'd do if I had land like this.' Her eyes roamed appreciatively over the gently rolling grassland, rising to a conical hill, the symmetry of which attracted her attention, and Russell

  visibly relaxed again under her seemingly indifferent manner.

  'That's Tylar Barrow. The one the village is named after,' he answered her question, which she used as a red herring to defuse what was rapidly becoming an uncomfortable atmosphere between them again. 'It doesn't seem the thing to do,' he added reflectively, `to walk across ancient burial grounds, but there's a grand view from the top of, the Barrow. It's a favourite spot locally for a walk, there's a footpath skirting that wood,' he indicated a distant stand of beeches. 'One day, we'll ...'

  'Come on, Uncle Russell ! ' Jane trotted back to hurry them on. 'The mare's come for her sugar.'

  'In that case we mustn't keep her waiting,' Russell smiled, and obediently quickened his step as she ran back through the trees, tugging at his hand until they got to a split rail fence, which she promptly mounted to give her enough height to fondle the mare's head that nuzzled her small hands, seeking its morning treat.

  `One each for you to give her.' Russell gave the children the sugar lumps, which rapidly disappeared in a contented crunching, and then he walked on along the fence to another paddock enclosure nearby.

  'Pendelico,' he said quietly, waving his hand towards the paddock, and Wyn stared.

  'He's—beautiful!' she breathed. A huge stallion, its colour as flawless as the marble that gave it its name, trotted towards the fence at the sound of their voices. 'He must be nearly seventeen hands,' she judged, even accounting for his pure whiteness, which probably made him look bigger than he was.

  'Just seventeen hands.' Russell dug into his pocket

  and produced two more sugar cubes, but this time he did not offer them to the two children. 'They've been taught to keep thei
r distance,' he explained. 'The mares are gentle enough, but a stallion can be unpredictable.'

  As unpredictable as its owner. The thought flashed through Wyn's mind, but she did not voice it, acknowledging that he spoke the truth. He knew she rode, and might be warning her as well as the children. He was not to know that she had been practically brought up on horseback, she was riding before she could walk properly, and that in the equestrian world her knowledge and prowess in all probability matched his. But her honest assessment of her own limitations, particularly those of physical strength, would have prevented her from attempting to ride such an animal anyway.

  'A stallion is a man's horse,' she acknowledged quietly, and he looked down at her consideringly for a long moment, then nodded as if he was satisfied.

  'It's all I can do to hold him myself when he's frisky.' His slender wrists looked as if they held steel strength, though the hands that caressed the stallion's ears were infinitely gentle, and she leaned her arms along the top rail of the fence, watching him.

  In the dip at their feet lay the Grange. The herringbone pattern of its brickwork picked out the ancient wooden frame of the house, that had stood the test of centuries and would stand for many more if it was left in the hands of men like Russell, who loved it for itself. Its corkscrew twisted chimneys gave out a faint blue haze of smoke, betraying Louise Tylar's one concession to her age, her love of a bright fire even on a May morning when the horse-chestnut trees along the ride

  raised tiers of blossom spikes like unlit candles in the early light.

  The beech wood beside which the footpath to the top of Tylar Barrow meandered looked unadorned by contrast, its turn would come with the flaunting colours of autumn.

  'One day we'll ...' Russell had said.

  One day we'll—what? she wondered idly. Walk up Tylar Barrow and enjoy the view from the top? She would like to go and see it. And when he said 'we', had he meant he'd walk up Tylar Barrow with herself, or with Diane?

  CHAPTER THREE

  `You were away such an age I thought you'd gone riding.' Val's voice was sulky as they joined him at the breakfast table. The two children had been collected for a nursery breakfast as soon as they returned to the house.

  'Mrs Louise doesn't come down until later,' their nurse informed Wyn, and her heart sank.

  Russell at breakfast ! she thought wryly. And in his present mood Val was not much help. He's got out of the wrong side of his bed for some reason, she thought, unaware that her own slender presence, in `mink-coloured slacks and matching sweater that teamed with her soft brown hair, was a contributory cause. He had heard herself and Russell laughing as they came into the house, and he was not to know that their amusement was caused by the antics of the pup, which had decided to try and break house rules and sneak indoors to join the children at breakfast.

  'There's no time for riding this morning.' Russell helped himself to kidneys and bacon from the hotplate, accepting without comment Wyn's preference for cereal and toast.

  'You must try some bacon, it's home cured,' Val insisted.

  `Wyn said "no",' Russell told him flatly. 'She'll eat what she chooses.' His voice hardened at Val's impetuous, 'But it's ...' and Wyn intervened hastily.

  I'll try it some other time,' she soothed the injured feelings of the redhead. 'I rarely eat breakfast anyway.'

  'How will you set about your cataloguing?' Russell asked her. 'Have you any sort of routine on this kind of job?'

  'I like to have a glance at each room first.' Wyn felt thankful the talk had turned to work, there were no pitfalls there—no mines to explode, she thought ruefully. Val could evidently be as bad as his brother in that respect if something did not please him. And she was sure of herself on her own ground, which gave her more confidence when she was with Russell.

  'Once I can find my own way about, I needn't bother you.' It was a tactful way of telling Russell that she preferred to be left on her own to carry, out her work in peace. She enjoyed her work too much to be lonely, and she did not relish the thought of him as a critical observer.

  'I'll show you round.' Val's face cleared as if by magic. 'I need something to do,' he offered eagerly.

  'You'd find plenty of work if you'd only make up your mind to do it,' Russell retaliated swiftly. 'I'll show Wyn round myself.' He turned away from his brother as if that closed the subject. 'I need to know for myself what the contents of the Grange are. I've only given them a casual look over so far,' he told Wyn. 'Your investigations will be thorough?'

  'From attic to cellar if necessary,' Wyn assured him.

  'There's nothing in the cellars except racks of wine,' Russell replied with a slight smile.

  'And the attics are swept bare. We looked.' The spark of anger in Val's face against his brother died away as a new thought presented itself. 'All that lovely space, and

  not a thing in it,' he sighed. 'Just one of those rooms would make a lovely billiards room.'

  Or a children's playroom, thought Wyn. Like the converted attics in her parents' farmhouse that had provided soundproofed space for uproarious games on wet days for generations of her family. These would be for Russell's and Diane's children. For some unexplained reason the thought disturbed her, and she thrust it away, concentrating on the work that confronted her. I'm getting edgy, she told herself. The sooner I get to work the better.

  'If you've finished, shall we go?' Russell waited politely until she had finished, her cup of coffee and refused another before he spoke. Wyn noticed that although he had chosen his own breakfast from the hotplate, the actual amount of food he ate was quite small, a breakfast in truth, rather than a meal.

  `My room's in a bit of a state,' Val began doubtfully, and Wyn paused at the door and looked back.

  `There's no need for me to invade occupied rooms,' she assured him, and turned to Russell. 'I'll give you at least a day's warning before I'm ready to start on a room that's occupied,' she told him. 'It'll give whoever's occupying it the opportunity to remove any personal possessions. When I'm assessing furniture—bureaux and chests and so on—I have to go through all the drawers and shelves,' she gave tactful warning of her activities. Hers was always a delicate job in a home that was already occupied, but so far her own tact had always ensured ready co-operation.

  'Thanks for the tip.' Val poured himself out the last of the coffee and grinned across at her. 'I'll make sure to remove my pin-ups,' he promised, and Wyn laughed,

  thankful that he had recovered his good humour, as she left him to finish his leisurely meal.

  'Oh, Russell, there you are! ' Diane's voice halted them both as Wyn followed Russell out of the breakfast room into the hall beyond. 'I've been up to the paddock looking for you. You're not usually in the house this late,' she emphasised her familiarity with his activities, and Russell waited for her as she strolled across to them from the outer door.

  'You're not usually here so early,' he countered with a smile. 'If you've come for a ride you can take your usual mare. I'll have Corporal Benny get her out for you.'

  'How soon will you be ready?' She cast a triumphant look at Wyn.

  'I can't ride this morning,' Russell told her regretfully, 'but that needn't prevent you.'

  'I'll take Pendelico and exercise him for you,' Diane said promptly, and Wyn looked up at Russell doubtfully. It was an involuntary movement actuated by his warning about the stallion, and she saw his brows contract.

  'No, Diane ...'

  'Why ever not?' The girl frowned too, her face as sulky as Val's had been a few moments before. 'I can ride as well as you,' she protested impatiently. Wyn did not doubt her assertion, or that she would look well on horseback, but the high-mettled thoroughbred stallion would need arms stronger than Diane possessed to hold him, she thought, concerned for the girl if Russell's infatuation with her should tempt him to give way.

  'You must not ride Pendelico. I've explained why.' Russell was adamant. 'It's not safe, and it's for your own

  sake,' he reminded her, his v
oice softening. 'You can have your usual mare,' he repeated his earlier offer.

  'You and your caution ! ' Diane's face changed into a smile, and she looked up into his eyes coquettishly. 'You know it's not necessary, but it's sweet of you just the same, darling,' she murmured, just loud enough for her words to reach Wyn's ears. Wyn wished Diane would choose a more private place for her flirting; she felt embarrassed, as well as surprised in a detached sort of manner that even now Diane's eyes remained cold, with a calculating gleam in them that should warn Russell that she would get her own way if she possibly could, whatever his objections.

  'I didn't come for a ride anyway,' the girl gave way gracefully for the moment. 'I came to ask for your help.'

  'Ask away,' Russell invited, plainly relieved that she did not want to pursue the subject of the stallion further.

  'It's my car again,' Diane complained prettily. 'It's the thing that holds the battery on. There's a metal rod given way. It's rusted through, or something,' she said helplessly.

  'It's probably been eaten through by acid,' Russell laughed. 'I expect you've topped up your battery too generously and haven't bothered to mop up the overspill. Acid and metal don't mix, you should know that,' he scolded her, mock stern.

  Her car again. Wyn's lips curled as she watched her. It was a useful ploy. There were about a thousand things that could go wrong with the mechanics of a car, enough to cover any emergency that might take Russell away from Diane's side, and bring him running

  right back, she thought contemptuously. She despised the other girl's tactics, but she had to admit they were effective.