Julie gasped. "I don't know what you're talking about. But I gather your father did ask you to go with him then."

William folded his arms. "Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. It was intended as a bribe-to ensure my silence about what I saw last night."

"WUlumr'

He had the grace to colour then. "Well," he muttered defensively; "It's true."

"You don't know that!"

"Don't I?" In his bitterness, he was incredibly like his father. "Well, why did he invite me, then?"

"As your aunt was going along, too, I hardly think it was the action of someone wanting to hide something, do you? If he was the man you're saying he is, surely he'd avoid throwing you and Ner-Lady Llantreath together!"

William's brow furrowed. "Was Nerys going along?" He shrugged, and threw off his momentary doubt. "Oh, well, he'd know I wouldn't say anything."

"Then, by your criterion, why ask you, then?"

William's lips worked silently for a moment, then he said: "That still doesn't give you the right to come bursting in here. What do you want? I'm busy."

Julie straightened away from the door, refusing to be deterred by his insolence. "Are you coming for a walk?" she asked quietly, and his eyes flickered half remorsefully over her strained features.

"No. I've told you, I'm busy."

Julie sighed. "William, this is silly-"

"Is it?"

"Yes." She linked her fingers together. "Look, will you let me explain-"

"No!" He almost shouted the word. "Go away! I don't want to talk to you."

Julie took an involuntary step towards him, and then steeling herself, she halted. "Very well. If you insist oh behaving like a baby, don't be disappointed if people treat you like one."

"A baby?" William was cynical. "I wish I was, do you know that? I wish I didn't understand-"

"You don't!"

"I understand that my father only has to snap his fingers for every female to jump to his bidding!"

Julie gasped. "It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it? It looked like that to me."

"I know what it must have looked like to you, but-well, I was to blame, not him."

"Do you think that makes me feel any better?"

Julie made a helpless gesture. "I thought it might. These things happen, William. When you get a bit older, you'll understand. Men and women-they often do things that seem incomprehensible to a boy of your age." She hesitated. "It won't happen again."

"How do you know that?"

"I won't let it."

"You didn't seem to be objecting," he muttered, in a tortured voice, and suddenly she understood something much more important. He was jealous! William was jealous. But not, as she had thought, of her-but of his father!

"Oh, William!" she exclaimed, her heart reaching out to him as she stepped forward, but now he backed away from her.

"Leave me alone," he implored huskily. "I-I just want to be left alone."

"William, come for a walk."

"With you?"

"Of course with me." Julie held out her hand. "Don't stop being my friend."

William licked his lips, his eyes guarded, the colour in his pale cheeks eloquent of his upheaval. His eyes were on her face, and she wondered why she had never suspected his partiality for her company before. Perhaps because she had never seen William in that light, never realised that he was old enough to experience the first painful pangs of p.u.b.escent emotion. A sympathetic feeling of almost maternal fondness spread over her as she returned his stare, but common sense was warning her that to show her affection for him now might well precipitate a situation more complex than any she had thus far encountered.

Now William bent his head, scuffing his toe against the carpet.

"Dulcie came up here," he muttered, in a low tone. "She told me you and she were going walking together. I believed her. I'm sorry, Julie."

An awful feeling of anti-climax replaced Julie's earlier elation.

"Dulcie-told you that?"

"Yes. She was bragging about it, saying you'd invited her to join you.

I-was- mad!"

"Oh, Wittiam!' Julie's arms swung frustratedly at her sides. What a hopelessly insecure child he was! And now she was going to have to disillusion him again. "William, Dulcie asked me if she could join us.

I-I said yes."

He looked up, all the old distrust back in his face. "Did you?"

"Yes." She sighed, trying to find words to justify herself. "William, I had promised. You know I had."

"Nerys absolved you of that!"

"No, she didn't. William, can't you see, Dulcie is-like she is, because she's as insecure as-"

She broke off, but he was astute enough to guess what she had been about to say. "As insecure as I am?" he queried bitterly. "Don't deny it. I know that was what you were about to say. Well, now I know where I stand, don't I?"

"William-"

"Don't say any more. I don't need it, Julie. I don't need your pity. I don't need anyone."

"William, listen to me-"

"I think you've said enough."

He was absurdly adult, and she longed to gather him into her arms and comfort him as she knew she could. But that would mean another situation entirely, and one which even she dared not initiate. With a feeling of defeat, she turned towards the door. There was nothing she could say at the moment which would not sound like patronage to his ears.

As she reached for the handle of the door, his words smote an actual pain in her chest: "Enjoy your walk, Miss Wood!"

CHAPTER NINE.

IN fact, Julie did gain a certain release in simply getting out of the house. For days she had been confined, and it was good to free her hair from all constraint and allow the lingering breeze to tangle its silky length as she and Dulcie scrambled down the cliff path to the beach. It was fresh and invigorating down on the rocks, feeling the salty spray in their faces, wild and free by the sh.o.r.es of the ocean.

Dulcie loved it, and for the moment Julie refrained from chiding her for taunting William. Her own emotions were still too shaken to take any more excitement.

So she gathered sh.e.l.ls, played ducks and drakes with fiat stones, and pointed out the underwater life visible in the rock pools, for Dulcie's benefit. In jeans and Wellingtons and her warm parka, the little girl had never looked more animated, and Julie wished William could have been there to share it, too.

As they walked back to the house, their pockets full of the sea's bounty, Julie casually mentioned Dulcie's behaviour towards William. Without arousing any antagonism, she explained that if Dulcie wanted to share in any more outings, she should not indulge in petty spitefulness. Because of her, she said, William had been denied this outing, but in future if would be Dulcie herself who was denied if she persisted in trying to score off her cousin.

Dulcie was surprisingly acquiescent, but Julie guessed that with the least provocation that would not last. Nevertheless, the first seeds of a nicer child had been sown, and maybe they would eventually take root.

Back at the house, Rhys and Nerys had obviously returned.

There were boxes bearing the name of some Llantreath store in the hall, and the scent of expensive perfume, and Julie wondered with uncharacteristic cynicism whether her employer had been placating Nerys for his tardy behaviour of the night before.

She looked into the living room, half hoping that William might be there, but although he was not, the tea trolley was, and the smell of hot scones after the chilly air outside was very appetizing.

Dulcie had scampered off in search of her mother, eager to show her what sh.e.l.ls they had found, and with the feeling of dejection she had felt earlier sweeping over her again, Julie went into the living room and closed the door.

The heavy chesterfield was set squarely before the fire, and shedding her coat, she went to sit down. The room was shadowy in the firelight, and she was ludicrously startled when the unseen occupant of the sofa suddenly got up from his lounging position. It was Rhys, and Julie stepped back, her heart thumping.

"I'm sorry I startled you," he said, reaching for the switch of a nearby standard lamp, and flooding their small area with an amber glow. "It was not intentional."

"Th-that's all right." Julie wrapped her arms about herself.

"I-we-the trolley-"

"I know. You and William usually have tea together." His tone was coolly controlled, totally different from Julie's husky breathlessness.

"It's William, actually, that I wanted to speak to you about"

"I-I thought he might be here."

"Did you? But he didn't accompany you on your walk."

"No."

"Dulcie did, though."

"Yes." Julie was defensive, but he shrugged.

"Won't you sit down?" He indicated the chesterfield.

Julie subsided gratefully, and after a moment he seated himself beside her, leaving the s.p.a.ce of a cushion between them. He drew the trolley nearer, and at his silent suggestion, Julie took one of the scones, munching its crispy lightness with more determination than enthusiasm. Rhys ate nothing, she noticed, but he did pour himself a cup of tea, adding milk and two teaspoonsful of sugar.

"I've spoken to William since I got back," he said at last.

As he didn't elucidate, Julie volunteered that she had spoken to him, too.

"I know." He replaced his cup carefully in the saucer. Then: "You know what's wrong with him, don't you?"

Julie's cheeks burned. "He-he's upset. After what-what he saw last night."

"It's more than that." Rhys spoke flatly. "William has always regarded you as more his property than mine. Last night was an art of treachery, a-betrayal, if you like."

"I've told him it won't happen again!"

"Have you?" Rhys regarded her dourly. "And can you be absolutely sure of that?"

Julie almost choked on the final piece of scone, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed up a napkin, hiding her face in its folds.. "I think so," she answered in a m.u.f.fled voice.

Rhys' mouth turned down at the corners. "Forgive me if" I'm wrong, but were you, or were you not, making arrangements to meet Meredith this morning?"

Julie loved the way he said Meredith, with the emphasis on the second syllable, but she resented his interference.

"I was just talking to him," she denied hotly. "It may have slipped your notice, but I have not had any free time since I came here."

Rhys' grey eyes gave nothing away. "You're saying that I'm working you too hard?"

"I-no, not exactly."

"What are you saying, then?"

Julie bent her head. She was being unfair, and she knew it Her hours were not arduous, and certainly time did not hang heavily on her hands. What she was talking about was the time she gave to William, and until now she had never complained about that.

"What you do in those hours when I am not employing you is your concern, Miss Wood," went on Rhys relentlessly, and Julie felt small-and mean. "If you have been giving more time to my son than you feel justified in doing, then I suggest you use this opportunity to make the break."

"What opportunity?"

Julie looked up at him apprehensively, but her stomach muscles tightened at the tenseness of his expression.

"The boy's in love with you!" he muttered harshly, flinging himself off the couch, and pacing to the windows. "Don't pretend you're not aware of it."

Julie got unsteadily to her feet, unable to sit still under such an accusation. "You're blaming me?"