"How dare you?"

"-and besides, if Dulcie's really keen to have some sh.e.l.ls of her own, I see no reason why she shouldn't accompany us sometimes on our walks."

"Do you mean that?"

From burying her face in her mother's skirt, Dulcie's disbelieving exclamation was issued through lips that still trembled, and with cheeks smeared with tears. Julie could hear William's swiftly indrawn breath, and guessed that he was horrified at her suggestion. But somehow she had to take the control of the situation away from Nerys, and she could talk to William later. He was not really a malicious boy, and if she could only make him understand that Dulcie was as much sinned against as sinning, then perhaps they would all stand a chance.

"I don't think-" Nerys was beginning contemptuously, when Rhys overrode her objections to speak to the child.

"That's not a bad offer, Dulcie," he said dryly. "I should take it up if I were you."

Dulcie's chin still quivered when she looked at her uncle. She hadn't forgiven him for administering her punishment, but her attachment to him was such that his words still had the power to influence her.

Then she looked at Julie. "You don't really mean, it do you?" she mumbled, the interest in her eyes denying the indifference in her voice.

"Of course I mean it." Julie was feeling quite lightheaded with her success. Not that she was foolish enough to imagine that one skirmish meant the war was over. Nevertheless, it was a start. "We go down to the beach almost every afternoon if the weather's fine. Next time we go, you can come with us. If you promise not to be jealous if William finds more sh.e.l.ls than you do."

"Oh, come along, Dulcie." Nerys had had enough of this. She turned to Rhys. "I don't know what game you're playing, darling, but I refuse to allow any daughter of mine to go beachcombing with a girl scarcely out of the schoolroom!"

"She's not that young, Nerys!" retorted Rhys quietly, and Julie saw the other girl's eyebrows lift interrogatively.

"No, I suppose she's not,"Nerys agreed bitterly, "but those cliffs are dangerous, and so are the rocks beneath."

"Oh, but Mummy-" exclaimed Dulcie unhappily, only to be silenced by a look.

"You may not care what happens to William-" Nerys was relentless, but now Rhys intervened, "Naturally I care what happens to William," he snapped coldly. "But I happen to believe that Miss Wood has her fair share of common sense. She's not about to do anything to risk her own life or the children's. Besides, you're exaggerating. I played on those rocks when I was a boy, and I'm still here."

"Yes, you are, aren't you? But so am I. And I'm Dulcie's guardian, not you."

"Mummy!"

Dulcie's cry was indignant now, but Nerys paid no attention to her.

Taking her firmly by the hand, she led her out of the room, and they could hear Dulcie's protests and Nerys's staccato replies until the distance between them m.u.f.fled the sound.

The silence in the library after their departure was magnified by Julie's own feeling of responsibility. She had suggested the sh.e.l.l collecting sessions, after all, and because of her Dulcie had got her hands on the blue-green paG.o.da.

Then she became aware that Rhys was watching her, and she rushed into speech, anything to dispel the tension on the atmosphere.

"I-I suppose I-I'm to blame," she stammered unsteadily. "I in-invited Dulcie to join us. I sh-showed her the sh.e.l.ls. If I hadn't she would eventually have gone away and left us alone."

"It wasn't your fault," began William, but his father cut him off.

"You were right about Dulcie," he said, looking at Julie with that narrow-eyed stare she found so disturbing. "She does need more discipline-I should have realised it before. Only I'm afraid I was involved with other things." He paused, and a certain cynicism twisted his lips. "I'm sure Dulcie will enjoy grubbing around the rocks, though, as you and William do. All -children enjoy that sort of thing."

The hesitation before the word "children" was deliberate^ Julie felt, but right now she was more concerned with what he had said, rather than the way he said it. "But I don't understand," she murmured.

"Her-mother said-"

"Leave Dulcie's mother to me," replied Rhys briefly, and Julie saw William's lips tighten at his words. Then his father nudged the jumble still lying on the floor with the toe of his suede boot. "I'll have Haggar clear this up in the morning. I should leave it for tonight. It's time you were in bed, isn't it, William?"

William hunched his shoulders. "If you say so," he said, without looking up, and Julie felt a sense of frustration. Suddenly everything had gone horribly wrong, and she just wanted to escape to her room until her treacherous emotions subsided.

"Then-I'D say goodnight," said Rhys quietly, turning towards the door. "Goodnight."

Both Julie and William made a polite rejoinder, but after his father had gone, William flung himself bitterly into the leather armchair.

"Did you hear that?" he demanded fiercely. "We're going to be stuck with Dulcie after all. Why on earth did you invite her?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," said Julie, more calmly than she felt, particularly, as her own reasons for not welcoming the news had nothing to do with Dulcie herself. They had to do with Nerys-and Rhys; and whatever was between them...

CHAPTER SEVEN.

As if the weather was determined to add its own disapproval to the plans, the next few days were wet and stormy. The afternoon walks, which Julie and William had so much enjoyed, had to be curtailed, and when she finished typing for the day Julie spent some minutes sitting on the window seat in the library, staring out at the dreary scene which confronted her, before joining William in the living room.

At night, the noise of the sea surging greedily over the rocks below the cliff, made sleeping difficult, and one night Julie was awakened by a shattering crash below her windows. Her brain, refreshed by its brief period of unconsciousness, was sharp and alert, and she sat up in bed anxiously, not quite sure what she should do. She wasn't really frightened, although the sound itself and her sudden awakening had set her heart hammering in her chest, but the idea of going downstairs to investigate was still a daunting one.

Nevertheless, someone had to discover what had happened, and as the sound had come from below her windows, she guessed a window in the dining-room had been broken. How?-she did not care to speculate.

Pulling on the soft cream jersey robe which had been her mother's last birthday present to her, Julie pushed her feet into her mules and crossed to the door. Outside, on the balcony above the shadowy hall, there was no sound at all, and she wondered fleetingly whether she had dreamed the whole thing. The temptation to return to her bed was strong, particularly as it was cold out here on the landing, but her conscience would not let her. If a window was broken and it rained before morning, the dining-room would be in an awful mess.

The wind was howling eerily as she descended the stairs, and her vivid imagination quickly transposed her surroundings, to those of a castle in Saxon times, and she, the maiden of the house, alone and undefended, was facing the invasion of Viking intruders.

She neared the bottom of the stairs. There was sufficient light from a moon, occasionally hidden behind scudding clouds, to illuminate her pa.s.sage, but in any case she would have been loath to reveal her presence until she was sure she was alone.

The soft pad of footsteps suddenly froze her to the bottom stair. There was something stealthy about the sound, and her heart rose suffocatingly into her throat. What if she had been mistaken? What if what she had a.s.sumed to be the wind had been really an intruder? She ought not to have come down here without alerting some other member of the household, Rhys Edwards for example, but she realised in those fleeting seconds that she didn't even know where he slept.

Gouds thickened at that moment, plunging the hall into darkness, but when the dining-room door opened, she could see the silhouette of a man illuminated clearly against the uncurtained windows of the room beyond- The figure was tall and broad, curiously attired in some long robe, and a sob escaped her. This must all be some crazy nightmare, she thought wildly, pressing a hand to her lips, convinced beyond reason that the figure before her was the Viking of her imagination.

She gulped and turned to flee, driven without quite knowing why, and then halted abruptly when the hall was suddenly flooded with light.

"For G.o.d's sake! Julie! What the h.e.l.l are you doing down here?"

Julie turned reluctantly to face her employer, her eyes widening as she took in his appearance. The robe which had frightened her so was a long poncho-like garment, magnificently embroidered with threads in gorgeous colours along its hem, wooden toggles holding the two sides together. It was, she guessed, of African origin, and revealed between the side toggles that he wore nothing beneath it.

Her face suffused with colour at this knowledge, although he seemed less concerned with his appearance than by hers.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "I suppose you heard the crash."

Julie nodded. "I thought it might be-a window."

"It was." Rhys indicated the room behind him. "I'm going to have to seal it up somehow until the morning. The rain's coming in."

"Oh? Is it raining?"

It was a silly conversation to be having in the early hours of the morning, but Julie couldn't think of anything else to say. Her palms were moist, and she was having difficulty in avoiding looking at him, her eyes drawn to the unfamiliar sensuality of his attire. On anyone else, she conceded, it might have looked improper, or theatrical, but on Rhys it was entirely acceptable.

Now he was regarding her with ill-concealed impatience'. "You can go back to bed," he told her quietly. 'There's nothing you can do."

But even as he spoke, he uttered a m.u.f.fled oath, and twisted one bare foot upward so that he could see the sole. Julie saw the splinter of gla.s.s that was causing his discomfort almost before he did, and stepping off the last stair, said quickly: "Let me do that."

"No." His hand warded her off, and she looked at him helplessly.

"Why not? You might break it. It's very dangerous to risk having slivers of gla.s.s floating round inside you."

"A most unpleasant possibility," he agreed mockingly. His eyes moved slowly over her, taking in the rounded curves of her body, tantalisingly accentuated by the clinging robe. "Go back to bed, Miss Wood You're no Androcles!"

Julie held the lapels of her gown closer about her throat. "I could say, you're no lion, Mr. Edwards!" she declared.

"Oh, but I am," he retorted harshly. "And if I were you, I'd go back to bed before you catch your death of cold!"

With one hand supporting himself on the banister, he pulled impatiently at the splinter. Blood surged below the skin as it moved, but it was deeply embedded, and it snapped between his fingers, leaving a shred of gla.s.s still lodged in his foot.

His expression was not encouraging as he looked at her, almost as if he blamed her lingering presence for what had occurred. Then his lips tightened.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you up on that offer, Miss Wood," he said shortly. "I just hope you're not squeamish."

Blood was dripping from his foot on to the wooden floor and she watched it, mesmerised, for a moment, before saying jerkily: "I-is there somewhere we can use?"

"The kitchen," he decided abruptly, and limped off across the hall, using his heel for support.

Julie had only briefly entered Mrs. Evans' domain, but at night it was warm and comfortable, the artificial light glinting on the shining cooker and the pans hung on the wall, evidence that in this area at least, Mrs. Evans was not lacking.

"There's a medical cabinet around here somewhere," muttered Rhys, opening and closing cupboard doors, unable to find any of the things he wanted.

"Look," said Julie at last, "don't you have some alcohol of some kind?

I should have thought that you-that is-well, not everybody has a convenient medicine chest," she finished uncomfortably.

Rhys regarded her strangely. "What has William been telling you about me?" he demanded. "What secretive little conversations do you have on those walks of yours? No wonder he was against Dulcie accompanying you. She tells tales, as I'm sure you've gathered. It would be awkward having to explain your opinions to me, wouldn't it?"

"You flatter yourself!" declared Julie hotly, stung by his bitter sarcasm. "William and I have more interesting topics to talk about than you!"

He turned from examining the contents of a shelf above the draining board, and he was closer than Julie had realised. She stepped back, aghast at her own temerity, and her expression brought his mouth into a thin line.

"Perhaps we should conduct all our conversations at night, Miss Wood. At least then I could be sure of hearing the unvarnished truth!"

Julie flushed. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head angrily. "Don't be. I asked for that" He turned back to the shelf again. "There's nothing here. You find something to take the splinter out with, and I'll get the alcohol."

Julie doubted there was anything suitable here with which to extract gla.s.s, and the idea of using a knife did not appeal to her. Rhys had gone to his study to get a bottle, and after a moment's hesitation she left the kitchen herself and ran upstairs to her room to collect her manicure set There were some tweezers in there which might be suitable, and if not, perhaps he could think of something else.

Rhys was waiting in the kitchen when she returned, and his eyes narrowed as he took in her breathless appearance. "Where have you been?"

She showed him the manicure set, recovering rapidly, and he nodded before asking where he should sit.

"Perhaps on the table would be best," she suggested, lookingup at the single bulb which was suspended in the middle of the room. "The light is better there."

Rhys shrugged, and levered himself on to the scrubbed surface of the table, waiting patiently while she unstoppered the bottle of Scotch and applied a little to a clean handkerchief she had taken from her pocket.

"You don't want me flat on my back, do you?" he enquired, half amused by the seriousness of her expression, and Julie's colour deepened again.

"If-if you could just rest your foot across your knee," she suggested tentatively, and obediently he complied.

She was overwhelmingly aware of his nearness, and as she bent her head to examine the wound, the warm odour of his body filled her nostrils. The skin of his sole was hard as though he was not unused to going barefoot, but it was bloodstained now, and she had to clean this away before tackling the splinter. Her handkerchief was soon a grimy rag, splashed with crimson in places, and she took it to the sink and rinsed it thoroughly in cold water before continuing. The alcohol she applied to the cloth must have stung abominably, but apart from a certain tautness about his features, he made no demur. It was an odd sensation, touching him like this, particularly as the scarcity of their attire made the situation that much more intimate.

The splinter was lodged in the flesh that thickened the pad below his toes, and because of its situation bled profusely every time she attempted to move it. Julie could feel her teeth digging into her lower lip as she concentrated on the task, but a certain sense of inadequacy invaded her efforts. His skin was too tough. If she used the tweezers and attempted to withdraw the shred of gla.s.s, it would simply break again, making its extraction that much more difficult.

"You'll have to use a knife," observed Rhys dryly, just above her head, and she looked up at him with startled eyes.

" What?"

"It's the only way," he told her flatly. "You're going to have to open it up."

Julie looked down quickly so that he should not see her expression, but a feeling of revulsion was filling her at the thought of using a knife on his flesh. She couldn't do it, she thought wildly. She would be sick !

"What's the matter?" There was a trace of irritation in his tone now. "I shouldn't have thought you'd have experienced any qualms at the idea of cutting me up. Or is the whole idea just distasteful to you?"

"That's not fair!" Julie twisted the handkerchief between her fingers.

"I-I've never done anything like that before."

"Just think of all the occasions I've been cruel to William," he remarked mockingly. "That should give you more satisfaction."

She looked up at him indignantly. This dose she could see the length of his thick lashes, the brown pores of his skin, the uneven whiteness of his teeth. She had been close to members of his s.e.x before, but never to one who disturbed her as this man did. He aroused the most wanton thoughts inside her, and her imaginary skirmishes with her Viking were as nothing compared to the emotions she was experiencing now.

As if aware of her desire for contact with him, he put out a hand, his hard fingers closing over hers. "What's the matter, Julie?" he asked, reverting to the way he had addressed her when she had surprised him in the halL "Are you squeamish, after all?"

"I-why- no!"

Her breathing had quickened to a considerable degree and her eyes dropped before the penetration of his. His hand holding hers fascinated her, lean and brown and long-fingered, faintly covered with fine dark hair. She was trembling, and realising he must be aware of this, too, she tried to free herself.

But he would not let her go, and hardly knowing what she was doing, she pressed both hands to her chest His knuckles were hard against her breast, and she quivered violently when one long finger probed the lapels of her robe, seeking and finding the hardened nipple outlined against the soft material.

Then, with an impatient exclamation, he withdrew his hand, thrusting both feet to the ground and standing up. "Go to bed, Julie!" he muttered, and she knew he was angry now, but whether with her or with himself she could not be sure.

"I-your foot..." she stammered helplessly, and was reduced to silence by the look in his eyes.

"I can do it," he told her, with cold emphasis. "Go to bed, Julie, and don't ever let any man do that to you again, not unless he intends more than a selfish experiment!"