Rhys Llewellyn tore a sheet off his pad and handed it to Julie, and her eyes scanned the words Devil's Mount and Abernarth before he spoke again.

"Should you require any further particulars, you can contact me through my solicitors - Latimer, Leazes, Thomas and Lane."

Julie caught her lower lip between her teeth. "But don't you want to test me? Check that I'm not lying about my typing and shorthand speeds?'

Rhys Llewellyn regarded her unemotionally. "Are you lying?"

"No!"

"I'll accept that. I shouldn't like to be in your shoes if you come to Devil's Mount under false pretences," he remarked dryly.

"You're trying to frighten her!" declared William angrily."You won't change your mind, will you?' This to Julie.

Julie shook her head helplessly. "You don't even know my address!"

Rhys Llewellyn opened his note book again. "If it will make you any happier, you can give it to me,' he said resignedly.

Julie pursed her lips. Then she said: "Thirty-six, Eastman Road, Romford,' rather resentfully.

"Fine." He straightened, flinching as a spasm of pain crossed his face.

But the emotion she glimpsed was so fleeting, she half thought afterwards that she had imagined it. "That concludes the negotiation, I think." His lips twitched with faint amus.e.m.e.nt. "I hope you won't live to regret your decision, Miss Wood."

Julie hoped so, too, and as she walked back to Gray's Inn, her thoughts tumbled madly round inside her head. What had she done?

she asked herself confusedly. Committing herself without even taking the time to reconsider. What was her mother going to say?

Giving up a perfectly good job in the city to go and live in such an outlandish place! And for less money! She must have been mad even to consider it! But consider it she had, and there seemed no way of backing out of it.

She blinked rapidly. Away from William's distressed presence, it was difficult to understand why she had not simply turned him down flat.

Obviously, his father knew him better than she did, and their private affairs were not her concern. Yet she had made them so-to the extent that she had become personally involved in their family conflict...

And then there was Rhys Llewellyn himself, her new employer..

What manner of man was he really? Why did he walk so stiffly? Was that pain she had seen in his face? And why did she feel this disturbing awareness of him, that was at once magnetic and repelling? She had the feeling she was stepping out of her depth, into waters both deep and unknown, full of tides and currents that as yet she had barely touched upon. She recalled the name of someone called Nerys. Who was that? Her employer's wife? But not William's mother, that much seemed certain. Why hadn't she asked more questions? Discovered who else lived at Devil's Mount? Asked in what capacity she was to live there? She knew nothing about living in someone else's house as their employee. Her parents had never had employees, of any kind, and her knowledge was limited to what she had gleaned from historical novels and the like. What if she didn't like the work? What if she was unhappy there? Abernarth was a long way from Eastman Road-and even further from Southend...

She was late back to the office, and Mr. Hollister had already sent for her. When she shed her coat and made her way to his office, still in the slightly dazed condition in which she had left the Limerick Hotel, she found him in a vastly less amiable frame of mind, than he had been in that morning.

"Are you aware it's now almost half past two?" he demanded, pacing furiously about his office, puffing on the inevitable cigar which was to be found in his mouth. Short and tubby, he had always reminded Julie of Toad of Toad Hall, but today reality had less conviction about it than fiction.

Gathering herself with difficulty, Julie began to apologise, and then, realising that now was as good a time as any to tell him of her proposed change in circ.u.mstances, she said: "I'd like you to accept my resignation, Mr. Hollister."

Her words halted his restless meanderings, and he stopped to stare at her, taking the cigar out of his mouth. "What did you say?"

"I'm giving you two weeks' notice, Mr. Hollister. That is what's required, isn't it?"

"Two weeks' notice?" Hector Hollister pulled out a red spotted handkerchief, and looking more and more like Kenneth Grahame's prodigy, began to bl.u.s.ter: "Now look here, Julie, I know I'm not a patient man at the best of times, and maybe I have been a little hard on you lately, but that's no reason for you to say you're leaving us! Good heavens, I know I probably seem old-fashioned to you, demanding punctuality, that sort of thing, but dammit, I am your employer!"

"I know that, Mr. Hollister." Julie was astonished at this display, and a little embarra.s.sed, too.

"Well," Hector Hollister mopped his brow, "of course, I guessed you'd got something on today, all dressed up like that New boy-friend, is it? And why not? Wish I was ten years younger. I'd be after you myself."

"Mr. Hollister, it-"

"No need to be hasty, Julie. That's what I always say. You're a d.a.m.n good secretary, that's what you are, d.a.m.n good! Don't want to lose you. Can't say fairer than that'

"Mr. Hollister, I'm not leaving because-well, because of you. I've got another job. I went for an interview at lunchtime. That's why I was late."

Hector sank down weakly into the chair behind his desk. "You've got another job?" he echoed. "Where? In London?"

"Actually, no. It's not in London at all. I-er-I felt like a change of scenery. It's in Wales. I'm going to work for a-a writer."

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

"I-I shouldn't think so."

Julie was loath to mention Rhys Llewellyn's name, but Hector was not about to allow her to get away with it so easily.

"Don't you need a reference?" he enquired curiously, looking up at her through a veil of cigar smoke. His thick lips curled. "Or aren't you going to be his-secretary?"

Julie stiffened. "There's no need to be offensive, Mr. Hollister. And I don't recall actually saying that my new employer was male!"

Hector sighed, shaking his head. "Nor you did. But they usually are-those who employ secretaries, I mean." He pressed out the stub of his cigar in the ashtray, and when next he looked at her there was resignation in his gaze. "I'm sorry, Julie. But you've really taken me unawares. Put it down to my regret at losing you."

Julie had never heard Hector Hollister apologise to anyone before, and his manner disarmed her. "As a matter of fact, you're right," she admitted quietly. "My new employer is a man. His name-his name is Rhys-Llewellyn."

Hector's heavy brows met above the bridge of his nose. "Llewellyn?

Did you say Llewellyn?"

Julie's nails curled into her palms. "Yes. Why? Do you know him?"

"Rhys Llewellyn? No. But I do know of a Rhys Edwards who has recently returned to live in Wales."

"I expect Rhys is a common enough name there."

"Perhaps so." Hector leaned back in his chair. "And this man I'm thinking about is no suitable employer for an attractive young girl like you."

Considering his own sometimes less than proper behaviour, Julie had to smile. But she asked him what he meant all the same.

Hector pulled a face. "No need to go into details. The man's an ex-mercenary. Dangerous type. Inherited a great deal of money and land through the death of his elder brother. Completely without scruple, so I hear. Didn't you read anything about it in the papers? His brother was killed in that plane crash six months ago in France. He was the Marquis of Llan- treath or something like that. I suppose that makes Edwards the Marquis now. What irony! I understand the brothers hated one another. He'd have some story to write!"

Julie could feel a curious p.r.i.c.kling sensation along her spine. "Is he-was he ever married?" she asked, with what she hoped was casual interest "Does he-have any children?"

"Who? Edwards or his brother?"

"I-well, Edwards, I suppose."

"Not so far as I know. But I mean, I don't know the whole story. Only what I read in the papers and what J pick up among my colleagues in the profession. I think the Marquis- the dead brother, that is-was married, but I'm not even sure of hat."

Julie nodded. Oh, well, she thought with relief, that seemed rea.s.suring. And in any case, why should she imagine that this man Mr. Hollister was gossiping about could have any connection with the Rhys Llewellyn she was to work for? But it was a coincidence, just the same, and she couldn't help thinking about it as she travelled home on the train that evening. It distracted her thoughts from the prospect of facing her mother.

She could imagine Rhys Llewellyn as a mercenary, she thought broodingly. He was just as hard and callous as she would imagine them to be, and unwillingly she thought of her Viking. What had he been, after all, but a mercenary, raping and pillaging, his sword stained brightly with the blood of his victims? But Rhys Llewellyn was nothing like the golden- haired hero of her fantasies. Big and powerful he might be, cruel and ruthless even, but without that gentle side to his nature which could disarm the most defiant maiden and seduce her into yielding compliance in his arms...

CHAPTER THREE.

THE train ran into Goodwick station in the late afternoon. Darkness was already deepening beyond the misted windows of the compartment, and the encroaching night made the circ.u.mstances of her arrival that much more nerve-racking somehow. The journey had been long and uneventful, giving Julie plenty of time to brood about this step she was taking, and she continually asked herself what she was doing here. But she had no answer to give.

The last two weeks had not helped. Far from being pleased that she was leaving home, her mother had adopted a martyred air, and had veered from tearful anxiety about Julie's future to what the neighbours would say when they found out. Julie guessed her departure would arouse some speculation, not least being the speed with which it was to be accomplished, and her mother would not relish explaining where she had gone. It had all been most-upsetting for Julie, who herself was unconvinced that she was doing the right thing. There were times when she found herself actually composing letters of apology to Rhys Llewellyn, explaining that she could not take the position after all, but then she thought about William and tore them up.

Mark, who she had expected to be angry, had shown a surprising amount of understanding, and perversely this had not helped. Why couldn't she have been like Laura? she had asked herself over and over again. Why couldn't she have been content to marry Mark, who was a good man, and periodically produce his children? Why couldn't she have liked knitting and baking and joining Young Wives' clubs, sharing in the social life of a new housing estate? How could she and her sister be so completely different from one another?

And the chilling thought had remained that perhaps they were not so different, after all. Perhaps Laura had curbed this restless impulse that surged so strongly in Julie to look for more in life than was offered in their narrow little circle. Perhaps she had more sense than to go seeking the unknown. Who in their right minds would leave a secure and comfortable environment for the wilds of Wales in winter, working fop a man whose character was, to say the least, suspect, and whose relationship with his son bordered on the barbaric?

The railway station was rea.s.suringly normal, with pa.s.sengers disgorging from the train, tugging out their luggage, fumbling for their tickets, their breath clouding in the cold air. Julie pulled out her own two cases and searched in her bag for the square of cardboard which ent.i.tled her to travel. The wind made an eerie sound as it whistled down the draughty tunnel of the platform, and she was glad she had chosen to wear warm trousers and a chunky sweater under her tweed coat.

She had cabled the date and time of her arrival to Rhys Llewellyn as he had directed, and as she lugged her cases towards the barrier, she looked round hopefully for a familiar face. But although everyone else linked up with friends or relatives, or disappeared about their own business, Julie emerged from the station without encountering anyone who appeared to be looking for her.

She sighed. This was the last straw! The least they could have done was be on time to meet her, particularly as it was so cold, and the mist which swept round her and smelled of the sea chilled her to the bone.

She couldn't walk-far even if she had wanted to, with her cases, and she thought with nostalgia of her departure from London, with her mother and Laura, and Laura's husband, Alan, all waiting to see her off. Alan had carried her cases to the train, and she had rea.s.sured herself that someone else would be there to carry them at the other end. But instead, she seemed to have been abandoned, and it was difficult to control the sense of tearful resentment which filled her.

After waiting fifteen minutes, she struggled her cases back to the ticket office.

"Excuse me," she asked the operator politely, "but is there another train from London tonight?"

The girl behind the counter shook her head. "No."

Julie digested this with dismay. "There isn't?"

"No. The London train came in nearly half an hour ago."

"I know that. I was on it." Julie countered the girl's curious stare. "I was supposed to have someone meeting me. They haven't arrived."

"Oh. There's a pity."

"Yes. Isn't there?" Julie spoke distractedly, and then realising what she was saying, amended: "Isn't it?"

"And do you have far to go?" At least someone was not indifferent to her plight.

"A place called-Abernarth."

"Abernarth?" The girl rubbed her nose. "Ah."

"Is it far?"

"Oh-twenty-five miles, at least-"

"Twenty-eight, actually."

The hard masculine tones were unmistakably familiar, and Julie turned with mixed feelings of apprehension and relief to find Rhys Llewellyn standing right behind her. In a fur- collared black leather coat over equally dark pants, thick dark hair lifting in the draught, his tanned features glowing with health in the sharp air, he looked disturbingly attractive, and Julie would have been inhuman not to be aware of it. The girl behind the ticket counter obviously was, her att.i.tude melting beneath his undoubted s.e.x appeal, her eyes betraying a message that even Julie understood."Do you live in Abernarth?" she asked him, and Rhys Llewellyn nodded his head.

"Near enough," he conceded lightly. "Can I be of some a.s.sistance?"

Julie's lips parted on a gasp at his words, and when the girl began to explain how this pa.s.senger had expected to be met from the London train and was now stranded twenty-eight miles from her destination, she stared at him angrily, waiting for him to cut her off. But he didn't.

He merely revealed a polite interest in her predicament, and then had the nerve to offer her a lift.

"I'm driving back to Abernarth this evening," he remarked, with cool insolence. "I'd be happy to see you to your destination."

Julie stared at him for a few moments longer, but she could not sustain the mocking challenge in those dark eyes, and with a defeated little exclamation, she swung about and marched away determinedly towards the exit. She was aware that the girl behind the ticket counter was staring after her disbelievingly, probably considering her mad to apparently reject such an attractive offer, but the man was impossible, and right now she was in no state to deal with him. How could he stand there and behave as if he'd never set eyes on her before? He was just as objectionable as she had imagined.

"I imagine you'll be needing these."

She had halted outside the station, and when her tormentor's voice spoke close to her ear, she looked up to find him holding one of her cases in each hand. Realising she had left them standing by the ticket office, she roused a reluctant consent.

"Yes." A pause. "Thank you."

He looked down at her half impatiently. "What's wrong?"

Indignation exploded into anger. "You ask me that!"

He glanced all about them, and then nodded. "It would seem like it."

"Oh-oh, you're so sarcastic, aren't you? And so clever!"

"Am I?" He raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, considering how little you know of me, I consider that a perceptive statement. Thank you."

Julie pressed her lips together, staring at him impotently, and he put down one of the cases to gesture towards a mud- smeared station wagon parked a little distance away.

"Let's continue this fascinating conversation in the car, shall we? I don't know what you've got in these cases, but it feels like chain mail!"

Julie had no choice but to follow him across to the station wagon, waiting while he stowed her cases in the back before holding open the door for her to climb inside. Then he walked round the bonnet to slide in beside her, his thigh brushing hers as he made himself comfortable.

He inserted his key in the ignition, but before starting the engine, he looked sideways at her.

"Now-let's hear it, shall we?"

Julie took a deep breath. "You know perfectly well what I'm going to say! Why did you pretend you'd never seen me before? Making a fool of me in front of that girl in the ticket office!"