Читать книгу An Enigmatic Man - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 8

CRYS mentally shook herself. ‘That was Molly on the telephone, wasn’t it?’ she said heavily.

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Very astute of you—considering I called her by her name several times!’

Crys decided to ignore Sam Barton’s obvious sarcasm—it simply wouldn’t help the situation if she lost her temper with him. Although…she wasn’t sure anything could improve the immediate situation!

‘And you’re her brother, Sam,’ she said evenly.

Although two people more unalike Crys couldn’t imagine! Molly was small and red-haired, with warm brown eyes, a gamine and beautiful face, and one of the friendliest natures Crys had ever known. Sam Barton was none of those things!

‘A regular Einstein, in fact,’ he drawled.

Despite her earlier resolve, Crys felt her anger towards this man rising, her cheeks hot with the emotion. This situation was already bad enough, without his unwarranted sarcasm!

‘Mr Barton—’

‘Sam will do,’ he cut in. ‘I take it you’re Chris? Short for?’ he prompted at her nod of confirmation.

‘Crystal,’ she supplied reluctantly, considering the question quite inappropriate in the circumstances.

That hard green gaze raked over her mercilessly, from her tiny feet, her obvious slenderness, to the tip of her silver-blonde head.

‘It figures,’ he finally drawled insultingly.

‘Why does it?’ she came back sharply.

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘You look as if the slightest thing might snap you in half.’

‘Looks can be deceptive,’ she returned, with pointed reference to his remark earlier concerning Merlin’s docility.

‘Touché.’ His mouth twisted into a humourless smile, that hard gaze once again raking over her with complete disregard for the fact that he was being extremely rude.

Crys was well aware of the fact that she had lost a considerable amount of weight due to the strain of the last year. Her small frame, along with her diminutive height—only a little over five feet—gave her an air of fragility that might otherwise not have been there. Her face was thin, cheekbones prominent beneath haunted grey eyes, jawline finely visible. Only the fullness of her mouth remained the same.

She had hoped that this few days in Yorkshire with Molly might help to alleviate some of that strain—but only a few minutes’ acquaintance with Molly’s older brother had shown Crys that wasn’t going to happen!

‘Well, Crys, it looks as if you don’t have somewhere else to go, after all,’ Sam taunted.

That was what he thought! ‘I take it, from what was said, that Molly isn’t going to be here for a couple more days?’

Even that humourless smile disappeared now. ‘You take it correctly,’ he confirmed grimly. ‘The rehearsals for the film she starts shooting next month have run over schedule,’ he explained briefly, before picking up his empty mug and moving to pour a refill. ‘Want one?’ he offered belatedly.

‘No, thank you,’ she returned primly, aware that his lack of manners in not offering her more coffee before was probably due to the fact that he spent most of his time here alone—that he wasn’t used to catering to the needs of a guest. It wasn’t a feeling she, personally, intended altering for him, either! She was also aware that, as an actress, Molly had a schedule often disturbed in this way. It was one of the reasons they had decided to drive up separately to Yorkshire. ‘As Molly can’t make it for a while, I think it would be better—’ for all of them! ‘—if I—’

‘I hope you aren’t going to suggest booking into a hotel,’ Sam rasped, shaking his head. ‘Molly would never forgive me if I allowed you to do that.’

Now it was Crys’s turn to give a humourless smile. ‘And I’m sure that would bother you!’

‘As a matter of fact—yes, it would,’ he replied firmly. ‘Molly is very dear to me.’ His voice was husky now. ‘She’s—special. And any friend of hers is welcome here,’ he added with finality.

Crys silently agreed with him about Molly being special. The two girls had met at boarding-school ten years ago, when Molly had joined the lower sixth in preparation for taking her ‘A’ Levels. For anyone else, a change of school at such a delicate time might have resulted in feeling lost and out of place, but Molly’s nature was such that she quickly made herself at home wherever she was. The two girls had quickly become fast friends, spending most of their time together during school term.

Curiously enough, though, they had never visited each other at home during the holidays… If they had, Crys would already have known that she felt most uncomfortable in the presence of Molly’s brother who was twelve years older!

‘Unless I’m mistaken, you were under the impression that Molly’s friend Crys was a man?’ she asked.

‘Molly was most insistent that I be nice to this particular friend. It was important to her that this Chris should feel welcome. It was a natural assumption to have made, in the circumstances.’

Crys felt a glow of warmth at her friend’s obvious care for her comfort. Although that didn’t change the fact that Sam Barton had now been presented with a female friend rather than the male he had been expecting, or that Molly’s arrival had been delayed for a couple of days…

‘That was kind of Molly,’ she accepted. ‘Although her unexpected absence does change things rather—’

‘Because you’re a woman and not the man I was expecting?’ He frowned darkly. ‘Why does that change anything?’

Surely that was more than obvious, even to a man who chose to live as out of touch with the world as this one did? Oh, not that Crys felt in the least prudish about the fact that they would be a man and woman staying alone here for a few days. Despite her earlier imaginings, this man hadn’t given the least indication that he found her in the least attractive, let alone anything else. It was just that he was so obviously somebody who preferred his own company—possibly with the exception of Molly’s—that having a complete stranger foisted on him for a couple of days simply wasn’t on.

Besides, though Molly had always talked about her older brother in glowing terms, there was something decidedly odd about a thirty-eight-year-old man living reclusively in the wilds of Yorkshire in a castle that was deliberately made to look derelict on the outside but was the height of luxury inside!

Added to which, Crys didn’t feel in the least comfortable with him—would find it absolute purgatory to have to spend days alone here with him.

‘It really is very kind of you to make such an offer, Mr Barton—’

‘The name is Sam,’ he rasped. ‘And I’m sure, even on such brief acquaintance—’ his mouth twisted derisively ‘—that you are well aware that kindness is not a predominant part of my nature!’

Oh, yes, she was aware, all right, had believed him earlier when he’d threatened to drop her if she screamed.

She shook her head. ‘Nevertheless—’

‘Look, as you pointed out earlier, it’s getting late, and the light’s fading fast,’ he cut in briskly. ‘I need to go outside for a while and—and finish what I started. Why don’t you make yourself at home here for an hour or so and we’ll talk about this again when I come back?’

Yes, he would have dropped her earlier, Crys had no doubt, but she reminded herself that he also had enough compassion in him to give a decent burial to a stray dog he had found dead this morning…

‘Pour yourself another coffee,’ he invited lightly, ‘warm yourself next to the Aga. And we’ll see how you feel about things later. Okay?’

The cup of coffee and the Aga sounded inviting, but Crys was already sure how she would feel about things later; she simply couldn’t stay here with this man. He might be Molly’s brother, and Molly obviously adored him, but Crys wasn’t sure she even liked him!

She looked up to find his green gaze still regarding her searchingly, although the blandness of his expression gave away none of what he was thinking.

Crys looked at him now with the knowledge that he was Molly’s beloved brother, desperately trying to see the man her friend talked about with such love and pride. He was a writer, she knew that much about him, although she had no idea what sort of books he wrote. It did perhaps explain why he chose to live in this remote place—but not the reason for the deliberately deceptive dereliction outside!

No, there was something not quite right about this situation—and with all the other upsets she had had in her life this last year she did not want to become a part of it.

‘Molly is going to be very disappointed if she rings back and I tell her you’ve chosen to stay at a hotel until she arrives,’ he said suddenly.

Were her thoughts so transparent? Crys wondered with dismay—because that was exactly what she had been about to tell him!

But he was right about Molly’s disappointment. Her friend simply wouldn’t understand if she went to a hotel instead of waiting for her here.

Crys shook her head. ‘You can’t really want me to stay here.’ She grimaced, sure that company—her company especially!—was the last thing this man wanted. After all, he had made his opinion of her only too obvious earlier.

‘No,’ he confirmed bluntly. ‘But for Molly’s sake I’m willing to put up with it.’

And, his unspoken words implied, so should you be!

He was right, of course. Molly was one of the most kind-hearted people on earth—had invited Crys here because she wanted to help her come to terms with the last year. To choose not to stay here after all, simply because Molly had been delayed a few days, was ungrateful in the extreme. Not that Molly would ever say so, but she would be hurt, nonetheless.

‘As I said, think about it,’ Sam advised harshly, before striding forcefully from the room. The front door slammed a few seconds later as he left the house, instantly greeted by the sound of Merlin’s joyful barking.

Crys’s breath left her in a sigh as soon as Sam was out of the room. She sank down gratefully onto one of the kitchen chairs as she tried to collect her thoughts.

Think about Molly, Sam had meant by that last remark. He was right, of course. But, even so, Crys was loath to agree to stay here with Sam while she waited for Molly to arrive. What would the two of them talk about, for one thing? He certainly didn’t appear to be a man blessed with any of the social graces, so small talk was probably out!

What a mess!

Her first social venture out in a very long time, and she found herself cosily ensconced with the most unwelcoming man she had ever met in her life, miles from civilisation—or at least so it seemed—with the fog seeming to cocoon them in eerie solitude.

The fog!

A brief glance out of the kitchen window showed Crys that, instead of lifting, as she had hoped it might, the fog had in fact thickened. So much so that she could see absolutely nothing now except that silvery blanket.

Great. Even the weather seemed to be conspiring against her!

She was going to look more than a little churlish if she insisted on leaving in weather like this—she was going to look as if she were running away. From Sam Barton!

But wasn’t she? Didn’t the man unnerve her to the point of giving her the jitters? He—

She looked up as the front door opened and then once more closed with a resounding slam, her gaze apprehensive as Merlin preceded his master into the kitchen. The dog really was as enormous as he had appeared outside, filling half the doorway as he came to an abrupt halt, hackles once again rising at her presence there, looking at her with pale canine eyes.

‘She’s a friend, Merlin,’ Sam told the dog impatiently as he shifted the animal out of the way so that he could come into the kitchen as well, bringing a draught of cold air with him as he moved to warm his hands on the Aga. ‘I’m afraid that particular job is going to have to wait until the morning, when hopefully I’ll be able to see what I’m doing.’

‘The fog is worse, isn’t it?’ Crys said unnecessarily, hoping this gigantic dog understood the meaning of the word ‘friend’—although, in all truth, she hardly came into that category!

Sam’s grin was as wolfish as his dog’s growl had been earlier. ‘I wouldn’t even send Merlin out on a night like this!’

His meaning wasn’t lost on Crys and she shot him an impatient look. ‘In that case, I accept your kind offer of hospitality. For tonight, at least,’ she added quickly when Sam gave a grimace of satisfaction at her capitulation.

He nodded abruptly as he straightened. ‘At least you’ve chosen not to add foolhardy to your other more obvious…character traits,’ he drawled mockingly.

Faults, he meant, Crys easily realised. Maybe he should take a look at himself some time!

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Perhaps if you could tell me where I’m to sleep? Then I can go and get my case from the car and indulge myself with a hot bath.’ Her shoulders and neck ached from the hours of driving, and with her recent loss of weight the cold seemed to have penetrated to her bones. ‘If that’s convenient, of course,’ she added belatedly; after all, just because this room was cosily warm and modern did not mean that upstairs there was the luxury of a bathroom and hot running water.

‘Of course,’ Sam echoed dryly. ‘I forgot to ask earlier—can you cook?’

Crys frowned. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that I live alone here? I manage for myself the majority of the time—stews, things like that—but it can get slightly monotonous; Molly usually cooks for me when she comes to stay.’ He quirked expectant brows in Crys’s direction.

In other words, she was going to have to cook for her supper—and his, apparently!

‘Yes, Mr—Sam,’ she amended as he grimaced, ‘I can cook,’ she assured him dryly. ‘Did you have anything particular in mind?’ she added ruefully.

‘Molly’s speciality is stuffed rainbow trout for starters, followed by roast fillet of beef with all the trimmings,’ he came back instantly.

‘I see.’ Crys held back her smile with effort—after all, she really had little to smile about! ‘Do I take it you have the ingredients for that particular meal?’ Of course he did—he would hardly have mentioned it otherwise!

‘In the fridge,’ he confirmed unnecessarily.

As she had thought. Oh, well, perhaps cooking dinner was the least she could do in return for the comfort of having a roof over her head when the elements were so unwelcoming outside.

Except the elements inside—namely Molly’s brother Sam!—weren’t too welcoming either!

But cooking dinner might infuse some sort of normality into this otherwise strange situation.

‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll take you upstairs.’ Sam threw his coat over one of the kitchen chairs before turning decisively towards the door.

In other words, she had finished her coffee. At least, as far as Sam was concerned.

She picked up her hat and scarf before following him out of the room, curious now to see the rest of the interior, sure that it was going to be—

Crys came to a halt in the spacious hallway; a huge oak table stood in its centre and the most magnificent oak staircase led to the wide gallery above. But it was the dome in the ceiling above them, and the long crystal chandelier that was suspended from it, that held her spellbound. Not just the gold filigree work in the dome itself, but also the telling artwork on one of the panels.

‘James…’ she breathed dazedly, unable to tear her gaze away from that telltale trademark.

‘What did you say?’ Sam asked impatiently, having come to a halt partway up the wide staircase as he realised she was no longer following him.

Crys blinked, frowning as she turned towards the sound of his voice, taking several seconds to return to reality.

She moistened dry lips. ‘I was—I—James Webber was your interior designer,’ she finally managed to murmur.

James had been here. Had worked in this house. He’d probably stood exactly where she was standing now as he’d critically appraised his own work.

Sam gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘He was,’ he confirmed. ‘But how did you know that?’ he demanded.

For the second time today Crys was feeling slightly faint, knew also that her face had paled dramatically. But she didn’t dare pass out again in this man’s company; he would wonder what on earth he had been landed with if she did!

It was just the shock of seeing James’s work so suddenly—of knowing that he had been here, that perhaps he’d stood on this very spot…

‘When did he do this?’ She couldn’t stop herself asking. James had never mentioned visiting Molly’s brother in a castle in Yorkshire to her.

‘About three years ago now.’ Sam walked back down the six stairs he had already ascended, his gaze narrowed to green slits as he eyed her warily. ‘I asked how you knew it was Webber’s work?’ he demanded again as he came to stand in front of her.

Crys gave a poignant smile as she looked around her. ‘It’s very distinctive, don’t you think?’ she murmured wistfully. The hallway was decorated in a mixture of warm reds and golds, the carpet up the stairs was a glorious scarlet, and then there was that telltale dome, with its yellow artwork.

‘Very,’ Sam snapped. ‘But that doesn’t answer my question.’

Her gaze returned reluctantly to the grimness of Sam’s face, and she was jolted by the hard look of suspicion she could easily see there. ‘Don’t look so worried, Mr—Sam,’ she said softly. ‘You see the tiny yellow rose up in the dome? On the left side panel?’ She pointed it out as Sam looked up. ‘James always sneaked a yellow rose in somewhere. It was his trademark.’

‘Was?’ Sam echoed sharply.

‘He died,’ Crys said abruptly, swallowing hard, forcing herself to remain calm. After all, she was only stating what was an indisputable fact. ‘A year ago. He had cancer.’

A disease as insidious as the poison Sam had mentioned earlier. A disease that struck indiscriminately, both at the young and the old, the talented, the weak and the strong.

‘I didn’t know…’ Sam replied slowly. ‘Molly introduced him to me. He was a friend of hers from university days.’ He shook his head. ‘She didn’t mention that he had died.’

No, Molly probably wouldn’t have talked of James’s death. She had been almost as shocked as Crys when it had happened. And the two of them had never talked of it since, either…

‘I suppose that’s how you knew him too,’ Sam murmured thoughtfully. ‘Molly must have introduced the two of you,’ he elaborated at Crys’s puzzled expression.

Yes, Molly had introduced Crys and James to each other, eighteen months ago. An introduction that had been love at first sight for both of them.

But there was something Crys wasn’t revealing to Sam about James. Something that was still so painful there was no way she could tell this strange, reclusive man about it.

James Webber had been her husband…