Julie remembered what Nerys had said about Richard's drinking. Was it possible that there was some other reason for that? As Rhys had said, facts could be twisted to mean anything.

Now Rhys moved stiffly, as if the cold was getting into his bones, and Julie said hastily: "We should go back," but his hand on her wrist kept her there before him.

"Not yet," he insisted. "There's still the question of William's mother."

"You don't have to go on-"

"Oh, but I do. Because she was no innocent either. But she had more heart than Nerys could even imagine." He paused. "I could lie and make up some tale about her being just a girl I met and spent some time with. But I won't insult you by altering the events to suit the occasion. She was a nightclub hostess, Julie. Need I say more? But she had a heart of gold, and for some reason she seemed to care about me. Sufficiently so not to take the necessary precautions."

Julie quivered in his grasp. "I see."

"Do you?" His voice was harsh. "I doubt it. Anyway, she had some religious beliefs-a hangover from her chapel upbringing, I suppose.

When she found out that she was pregnant, she had the child, even though I was long gone. You probably know the rest She left him on the steps of a children's home. I found out when I came home from Vietnam, and I-rescued him." He hesitated. "Perhaps you think I should have married her. But I don't think she wanted that. She was quite a lot older than I was, and set in her ways. We were just two strangers who for a brief period of time gave each other companionship. When you've been in the places I've been in, when you've seen the sights I've seen, you realise that that means a h.e.l.l of a lot."

Julie could not bear to look at him then in case he should see the emotion in her eyes. So William had not been born out of hatred, as Nerys had denounced, and if not out of love, then at least from an unselfish need.

Rhys released her wrist suddenly, and she started. "What's the matter?" he demanded savagely, and she realised he had misunderstood her silence. "Has my story shaken that romantic imagination of yours? Oh, yes, I've watched your face when I've been dictating. I've seen the disenchantment there. Well, life isn't a tidy thing. People don't ride around on white chargers rescuing maidens in distress any longer. Such knights as there are, are knights errant, searching for other causes far more deserving! I'm a flawed gallant, Julie, and it's time you grew up!"

Julie stared up at him then through tear-swept eyes. "I am grown up,"

she told him tremulously. "I grew up the first time you kissed me."

"Did you?" His expression remained sceptical. "Another ball on my chain, would you say?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Julie, don't you understand anything? I want you! I've wanted you for a long time. But I'm too old for you, and besides, I don't want a blinkered child to hold in my arms!"

Julie gulped. What was he saying? Did he know what he was saying?

Had he tired of Nerys now and thought to put her, Julie, in the other woman's place? Oh, G.o.d, she thought, am I strong enough to live the rest of my life knowing I have eschewed heaven? And there was still Dulcie.

She took a couple of steps back from him, unconsciously seeking the cliff path behind her, and his eyes darkened.

"What is it now?" he demanded. "What else has Nerys said about me?"

"Wh-why should she have said anything?"

He took a step towards her, his eyes narrowing. "Because I think I know you, Julie. I know you're not indifferent to me. So what else is there between us?"

But she could not tell him. With the words hovering on her tongue, she could not speak them. What if they were true? a voice hammered inside her head. Would they not then cast doubts on everything else he had said?

She had to get away from him, she thought unsteadily. She had to get away before emotion swamped common sense, before she found herself giving in to a man who could never give himself wholly to anybody.

With a stifled sob she turned away, and ignoring his command to wait, she began climbing the path to the clifftop. She tried to rim and stumbled as she went, and with an exclamation heard him coming behind her.

But halfway up she heard him utter an oath and stumble the rest of the way down again, and she turned from her position just below the rocky shelf to see what had happened. He had stumbled off the rocks on to the beach, and from where she was standing he appeared to be kneeling on the sand.

"Rhys?" she called doubtfully, aware of an immense sense of responsibility flooding her being. "Rhys? Are you all right?"

He did not answer, and her stomach plunged sickeningly. "Rhys?"

she called again. "Rhys, at least tell me that you Ye all right."

But only her own voice echoed round the cove and with a clenching of her fists, she started down again. Her hair blinded her at times, and she thrust it back impatiently, quickening her step as she neared the bottom and saw that he was now lying on his back on the sand.

"Rhys!" she cried, rushing over the rocks towards him, and going down on her knees beside him. "Rhys," his eyes were closed, "Rhys, speak to me!"

"I love you," he said, to her complete astonishment, and his arms came up around her, pulling her down on top of him.

His hand at the nape of her neck guided her mouth to his, and in her shocked state she could not suppress the desire to give in to him. His mouth was so warm and demanding, moving on hers, his body hardening beneath her until she uttered a little protest and broke away from him. But not far-he would not let her go and with a lithe movement which belied his injury, he drew her down on to the sand beside him and turned to straddle her body with his own.

"I'm not going to let you get away," he groaned. "Not until I've said everything I came to say."

"But-but your back-"

"I only jarred it. But as you seemed so concerned, I thought I'd let you come and comfort me."

"Why, you-"

She wanted to be angry with him, but with the heat of his body protecting hers from the cold, his hands inside the tweed coat, hard and possessive, she found it incredibly difficult to resist him.

Tears of helplessness trickled from the corners of her eyes, mingling in the moistness of their mouths, and he licked them away curiously, saying: "Come on, Julie. I need you so much."

"But-but Nerys-"

"What about her?" A harshness invaded his tone. Then a certain comprehension appeared in his eyes. "Of course-you think-I let you think we were lovers."

"L-let me think."

"Of course." His voice hardened. "Julie, if it was anything else, I would tell you. You've .got to know me, Julie. You've got to understand that sometimes I may say things you won't like, but I'll never lie to you."

"But that night-in the kitchen-"

He half smiled. "My angel of mercy! Oh, Julie, if you had had any idea of what you did to me that night ... I had to say something, I had to drive you away. But then William did it for me."

"William-"

"-will love his new mother."

"His-mother?"

"Well, stepmother, then." He frowned. "You will marry me, won't you? I mean-oh G.o.d!" He stared at her in mock irritation. "You didn't think-but yes, I can see that you did. Julie, how many more times must I say it? Nerys was lying... I never touched her after she married my brother!" He sighed. "And marriage still means something to me. I don't offer it lightly."

"Oh, Rhys!"

She couldn't hold out against him any longer, and as his mouth possessed itself of hers, and his body surged against her, she knew that she believed him at last, and nothing Nerys could do could alter that....

When they walked back to the house, their arms around one another, there was still one more question Julie had to ask.

"What will-Nerys do?"

"When we're married, you mean?" Julie nodded and Rhys drew her closer against him. "You may not believe this-"

"I will," she insisted, and he smiled.

"-but the day after you arrived, I contacted an estate agent in Llantreath who had connections in London, to arrange for an apartment for her. She doesn't like it here, and now I've finally convinced her that she's wasting her time with me, she'll go."

"Is that what you told her this afternoon?"

"Yes." He paused. "I wanted her out of the house before I told you I loved you, but in the event, her intervention precipitated things. I knew she'd try to make trouble for us, and I wanted to avoid that."

Julie bit her lip. "She-she told me something else. I-I have to tell you. I can't have it between us."

"What?" Rhys' eyes were dark.

Julie drew slightly away from him. "She-she told me- Dulcie was your child-that when you came home for your father's funeral..."

"What?" His disbelief was violent as his fingers dug painfully into her shoulder. "G.o.d, what must you have thought of me?"

Julie moved closer to him again. "I-she wanted me to leave. She said I should just-go. Without first telling you."

"Yes, that would have suited her." Rhys clenched his fists. "But don't imagine that would have been the end of it. I would have found you, wherever you were."

Julie looked up at him. "W-would you?"

"Yes." He frowned suddenly. "But come with me. I want to show you something."

They went into the house quietly, and let themselves into the library where first Julie had known that devastating awareness of this man who was going to be her husband. Taking some keys from his pocket, he unlocked the desk drawers which she had always been told to ignore. He extracted a file, and a handful of papers.

"Look," he said, and she found herself staring at two certificates; one was his father's death certificate, the other belonged to Dulcie, giving the date and place of her birth.

"You don't need to do this," she protested, guessing what was to come, but he ignored her.

"Read this," he instructed, thrusting another paper into her hand, and she read the medical reports of his injury during fighting in a Central African struggle for independence. The intimate details of his injuries made her feel sick to her stomach, and she looked up at him helplessly, but he insisted she read on. And then she knew why. He had been in hospital when his father had died, and could not possibly have attended the funeral. Dulcie's birth some eight months later confirmed that she could not possibly be his daughter.

"Oh, Rhys!" Julie exclaimed bitterly, "you didn't need to do this."

"I had to," he said simply, and the look on his face turned her lower limbs to water. "Sometimes it's necessary to prove something to oneself."

Julie understood. She also understood that she need have no fears for William now. Nerys could not harm any of them ever again.

Six months later Julie, Rhys and William were seated round the fire in the living room, sharing afternoon tea as Julie and William had used to do in those early days.

"Oh, it's good to have you back again," William exclaimed, grinning at his father and his stepmother happily. "But I'm glad you had a good time. Was Jamaica very hot?"

"Very hot," agreed Julie, looking down with satisfaction at the golden tan she had acquired. "Next time we go, you'll come, too."

Rhys lay back in his chair looking with satisfaction at his lovely young wife and at his son's animated face. "So the school isn't so bad?" he commented, and William shook his head.

Since their marriage, three months ago, he had been attending a private day school in Llantreath, and now that he had a home to come back to every night, he was working well again.

"Oh, by the way," William got up to fetch a letter which had been lying on the mantelshelf, and handed it to Julie. "This came for you a few days ago. I think it's from Dulcie."

"Dulcie?" Just for a moment, Julie felt a twinge of remembered anxiety, and Rhys stretched out a hand to close over her wrist."Do you want me to read it?" he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

"No. It's all right. I just wonder why she's writing to me.

Since Rhys had announced his intention to marry Julie and Nerys had walked out of the house, their only contact had been through the medium of solicitors.

But Dulcie's letter was endearingly friendly: Dear Aunt Julie, it read, I hope you and Uncle Rhys had a nice holiday. We live in London now, and I go to school with another little girl who lives in the same flats we do. I like lining here because there's proper heating, so Mummy says, and there are two bedrooms and I have one all to myself. When I was at Uncle Rhys' house I had to sleep with Mummy because she said it was so cold. Lots of love, Dulcie.

Julie handed the letter to Rhys after -she had read it and saw the way his lips twitched. Then he looked at her and she knew he was thinking the same as she was thinking. Then he handed the letter to William.

William read it with a degree of his usual cynicism where Dulcie was concerned. "Oh, well," he said, "at least she's happy anyway."

"Aren't we all?" said Julie, lifting her shoulders and allowing them to fall with the sinuous grace of a cat that has just had the cream.

end.