Rhys turned back to her grimly, and for a moment his eyes bored into hers. Then, with characteristic honesty, he shook his head. "No," he said heavily. "No, I guess not. But that doesn't alter the situation, does it?"

Julie made a negative gesture. "I'm sorry."

Rhys nodded impatiently. "Yes. So'm I." He sighed. "So what am I going to do?"

Julie felt side, the smell of the scones no longer an appetizing one.

"You could-ask me to leave," she ventured quietly.

"I know." Rhys walked back to the hearth and stood staring into the fire, a certain weariness evident in the way he moved, and Julie wondered why both the Edwards, man and boy, should be capable of moving her so swiftly to compa.s.sion. "I have considered that."

"A-and?" The word was scarcely audible.

"I don't think that's the answer." Julie was overwhelmed by the feeling of weak relief which flooded her lower limbs at his words.

"Besides," he went on, "we work well together. And I don't want to have to ask Thomas to advertise all over again." He paused. "You don't want to leave, do you?"

Something warned Julie that this was the moment she had been waiting for. How simple it would be to tell him yes, she had had enough, she wanted to leave.... But she couldn't do it. And the agony of it was, it wasn't just for William's sake that she wanted to stay!

"I-what if I said I did?" she countered, playing for time.

His expression darkened. "Do you?"

"I asked you a question."

He kicked a smouldering log further into the flames. "You're not a prisoner here."

Julie shifted from one foot to the other. "But it's not at all like-like anyone would be led to believe."

"What do you mean?" He looked at her broodingly.

"The-the advertis.e.m.e.nt-it was misleading."

"I didn't write it," Thomas did. My solicitor. He knew I wanted someone competent rather than decorative."

"But surely-the wording-it was more likely to attract-"

"Thomas is used to dealing with people. I relied on him to separate the sensation-seekers from the rest. All those I interviewed were extremely competent."

Julie linked and unlinked her fingers. "But you have to admit, this-this is hardly the home of a wealthy man."

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that. You know what I mean."

Rhys hesitated for a moment, and then with a shrug, he said: "My brother never used this place. He preferred to live in London. When I-when he died, I decided to live here. I realise it needs a lot doing to it, and right now we need someone to help Mrs. Evans with the housekeeping, but I have ideas for renovation. Fm hoping that the advance my publishers have promised me will go some way to accomplishing my plans."

"But-but-" Julie was at a loss for words. How to ask what had happened to the inheritance his brother's death must have brought him?

As if aware of her thoughts, his expression grew harsher. "I do not intend to use my brother's money, Miss Wood, even if legally it's mine. Obviously, you are aware of his ident.i.ty. However, villain though I may seem, I do have my pride. Richard's money will remain intact until Dulcie is of an age to appreciate it. As for myself, I'm not quite dest.i.tute. I do have a little money of my own. But this house was my home- I love it, and I intend to keep it."

Julie felt as if she had intruded into some private grief. "I- I understand," she murmured, and in some way, she did.

Now, as though regretting his moment of confidence, he, said roughly: "You, least of all the applicants, should complain of the conditions here. You came to that interview expecting a number of things which you were told had been lies. Yet you persisted in accepting the position."

"It-it must have been galling for you to have to accept me."

His lips twisted. "Are you looking for compliments, Miss Wood?"

Her nails dug into her palms. "No." She held up her h^ad. "And-and I'll stay."

For a moment, a strange expression crossed his face, softening its lean contours, bringing a certain brilliance to his eyes, and her knees trembled violently. She teas mad, she thought wildly, as he acknowledged her acquiescence with an inclination of his head.

There was going to be nothing but trouble for her here, and she was a fool for not recognising it.

"Very well," he said now, gesturing towards the couch again.

"Please-sit down. You haven't finished your tea."

Julie sank down obediently on to the chesterfield, more than glad to take her weight off uncertain legs. Rhys did not sit down, however, but remained standing on the hearth, staring into the fire once more, as if for inspiration.

"Tell me," he said at last, "has William ever talked to you about his mother?"

Julie shook her head. "We don't discuss-personal topics."

"Your idea, I gather. William, I'm sure, would be much less circ.u.mspect." Julie said nothing and he went on: "Perhaps that's what he needs. The maternal influence-as opposed to a s.e.xual one, hmm?"

Julie could feel a cold hand squeezing her stomach. What was coming now? Was he about to tell her that he had decided to get married?

That he had asked Nerys to be his wife?

"Well?" he prompted. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Julie shook her bead. "It's-it's not my affair-"

"Isn't it? Don't you know that in all the best stories, this is my cue to ask you to marry me? Albeit in name only?"

Julie gasped, her teacup clattering into its saucer. Wide-eyed, she got to her feet, and encountered his sardonic stare.

"Relax!"-he advised her, his voice cooler than before. "I don't have that kind of self-constraint. If I married you, you would not be able to keep me out of your bed!"

The mockery in his tone was doubly hurtful in her suddenly vulnerable condition. Pressing her palms together, she said: "I think this conversation has gone far enough, Mr. Edwards. I'm sorry about William, but I think you'll find that, given time, he'll get over any infatuation he has for me," and she moved pointedly towards the door.

"I'm delighted to hear you say so." The mockery was malicious now.

"That's right. Run away, Miss Wood. Forgive me, if my words offended you. I'd forgotten-I was treating you as an adult!"

The rain returned during the following days, and in all honesty Julie could not say she was sorry. It meant that she was not put into the position of having to subst.i.tute Dulcie's company for William's, even though the extra hours spent alone in her room left too much time for thought.

William himself remained aloof from the normal workings of the household, but the fleeting glimpses she had of him revealed dark lines around his eyes, and a certain haggardness in his expression.

She longed to be able to comfort him, but he avoided her eyes, seemingly determined to shun her companionship.

At least working with Rhys provided some sort of an escape. On the morning after his trip with Nerys into Llantreath, she discovered he had replaced the old chair she had been using with a black leather office chair with a revolving seat, and the knowledge that he had not forgotten his promise brought a momentary sense of foolish pride.

And working on the book had its compensations. Engrossed in the labyrinthine intricacies of the novel, Rhys became again the stranger he had once been, impersonal and detached, intent only on the satisfaction of his readers. The story had progressed through the horrors of an African military coup and its attendant complications, to the even more complicated power struggles going on behind the faceless masks of government. Here were all the petty intrigues she had read about in newspapers, the back-slapping insincerity of opposing factions, the creeping destruction of corruption in high places. Julie, whose reading had been limited to magazines and historical novels, found it completely riveting, and was always reluctant to call a halt for the day. The story was not moving along so quickly at the moment, there were lots of words she had to ask him to spell out for her, and places in the narrative where Rhys himself was not satisfied with its development. It was like being present at a birth, she thought in one of her more imaginative moods. A truly creative experience.

Since coming to Devil's Mount, she had managed to pen a couple of rea.s.suring letters to her mother, which Rhys had dealt with along with his own mail. But one afternoon, finishing the typing earlier than usual, and with another letter waiting to be posted, Julie decided to walk down to the village and post it herself. She still had not seen the village, other than that brief glimpse she had had on the night of arrival, and it seemed ridiculous not to take this opportunity to stock up on a few small personal items she was also needing.

It was not a pleasant afternoon. Throughout the day there had been squally showers, but now a fine mist was settling over the headland.

But it was not sufficient to deter her, particularly as it was only three o'clock, and still light enough to see her way there and back.

She put on her long boots, pulled on her tweed coat and marathon-length scarf over her working skirt and sweater, and let herself out of the house. She realised it was practically the first time she had been out alone since coming to Devil's Mount, and certainly the first time she had left the grounds.

Winding her long scarf about her neck, she tramped down the drive, pushing her mittened hands into her pockets for extra warmth. The gravel crunched under her feet, and beyond the stone gateway, the road wound desolately over the headland, making her aware of her isolation in this curiously silent, world. The mist seemed to have muted even the sounds of the sea, and it was odd to be without the wind which for days had been shrieking round the house.

A bend in the road brought her in sight of the village, its roofs all one with the greyness of the small harbour below her. She could see the spire of the church, and the cottages cl.u.s.tered about the square, and unknowingly, her footsteps quickened. She came down the steep incline into the village, pa.s.sing few people on her way, but aware of the speculative glances of those she did see. Strangers were obviously a novelty this late in the season.

The cobbled square was enclosed by the commercial premises of the village, two public houses, a general dealers, a baker's, and a post office. There were few people about here either, probably preferring the warmth of their firesides on this bleak November afternoon.

Julie decided to post her letter first, and as she hadn't any stamps, went into the small post office. Two women were talking to the postmistress when she entered, but. their voices died away as they all turned to look at the newcomer. Remembering what William had said, Julie expected to see hostility in their faces, but all that was there was mild curiosity.

Approaching the counter, she waited for them to complete their business, but one of the women pulled the other aside, and said: "That's all right. We're in no hurry."

Julie smiled and asked the plump postmistress for some stamps. She was conscious of the other women watching her, however, and feeling obliged to say something, murmured: "It's a miserable day, isn't it?"

"Miserable," agreed the woman who had spoken first. "It's been a miserable week."

"Miserable," agreed the second woman, and even the postmistress echoed her sentiments.

Julie hid a smile. They were like a trio of parrots.

"You're a stranger in Abernarth?" suggested the self- appointed spokeswoman of the group.

Julie had been expecting this. "Yes." She paused. "I'm secretary to Mr. Rhys Edwards."

"At Devil's Mount?" exclaimed the second woman. "There!"

Julie tore off one of the stamps and stuck it on her letter. They were still watching her, and it was difficult not to fumble over her task. But she got the stamp stuck on, and put the rest of them in her purse.

"Don't you find it lonely up there?" The first woman had definitely more determination than the others. "The house was empty for so many years. Not good enough for the last owner, so I believe. I heard a rumour it was going to be sold."

"Well, I can a.s.sure you, Mr. Edwards has no intention of selling the house," said Julie firmly.

"No?" Raised eyebrows all round. "There's interesting."

Julie walked towards the door. "I must be going. I have some shopping to do before it gets dark."

"You'll know Lady Llantreath, then?" A persistent voice followed her.

Julie turned. "Yes."

"She'll be living in the house now, is she?"

Julie felt slightly impatient. "Yes."

"There! And she always said she hated it." The three women were all nodding together now. "Closed up for years, it was. After the old lady died."

Julie knew this was nothing to do with her, but something in their tone made her hesitate. It was obvious that to the people of Abernarth, Devil's Mount was something of a talking point. These people had probably known the family from way back, their relatives might well have been in service there, in the days when to work in a big house was considered quite an achievement. And they were intensely suspicious of any change in the status quo. William had told her that the people in the village didn't like them, but if there was a rumour going round that Devil's Mount was to be sold, it might account for a feeling of betrayal. Rhys' brother had never lived in the house after he inherited, and now that Rhys had come back, perhaps they thought it was only a matter of time before he, too, packed up and went to live in London.

"Mr. Edwards likes the house," she said now, feeling that some further rea.s.surance was necessary. "Unfortunately, he seems to experience some difficulty in getting anyone to work there."

The three women exchanged glances. "Girls, you mean?" asked one.

Julie nodded. "A girl, perhaps."

"Someone to do housework, you mean?" asked another.

"Well-yes."

"I know that Mavis Jones is looking for a job," volunteered the postmistress shyly, and the other two women nodded again.

"I could have a word with her mother," said the woman who had spoken first. "A good girl, is Mavis, strong and hardworking."

Julie wondered how the aforesaid Mavis would feel if she could hear herself described in those words, but other considerations made her feel slightly apprehensive. It was one thing for Rhys to tell her that Mrs. Evans needed a.s.sistance, and quite another for her to take it upon herself to actually offer the vacancy for discussion in the village post office. But she had done it now, and if he was angry with her-well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"Perhaps I should mention her name to Mr. Edwards," she suggested.

"Then perhaps he could' get in, touch with Mrs. Jones."

"I'm sure Mrs. j.a.pes-and Mavis-would be interested," agreed the postmistress.

As she walked back to the house, Julie's thoughts were occupied with finding the easiest way of breaking the news to Rhys. It wasn't going to be easy to explain how she came to be discussing the house in the first place. He would think she had been gossiping, and in a way she supposed she had, even if her own contribution to the proceedings had been involuntary.

She had almost reached the top of the headland when she heard the sound of a vehicle behind her, and glancing round, she found a motor-cycle bearing down on her. She didn't need to wait for the rider to remove his scarf and goggles to know it was Gavin Meredith, and when he halted beside her, she turned to him reluctantly. It had been amusing to flirt with him, to exchange the kind of banter she was used to exchanging with boys back home, but her own involvement with Rhys was such that she was loath to create any further complications.

"I thought it was you," he exclaimed, pulling off his crash helmet, and running his gloved hand through his unruly hair. "I was just finishing for the day when I saw you walking up past the chapel. You should have called in to see me.

Julie's smile was perfunctory. "I wouldn't know where to find you, would I?"

"Ask anyone for Merediths, they'd know. My father has his own business, see. Painting, decorating, plumbing; you name it, he does it."

"Oh, I see." Julie hunched her shoulders as the mist drifted about them. It was much colder here than it had been down in the village, and she was looking forward to sitting by the fire and toasting her toes.

"You don't seem very pleased to see me," he remarked dryly. "I thought we might be able to fix up a date. Now that you've proved you really can leave that place!"

Julie bent her head, looking down at the plastic carrier containing the few articles she had purchased at the general stores. "It's nice of you to ask me, Gavin, but-"