Marriage At A Distance. Sara CravenЧитать онлайн книгу.
hill in robe and cowl, usually when the moon was full, she thought, her mouth twisting in self-derision.
She said clearly, ‘Jess—Moll—it’s all right.’
For a moment they were still under her restraining hand, then with a whimper of excitement they leapt forward into the darkness. A moment later she heard them barking hysterically a short distance away.
‘Damnation.’ She switched on the torch and followed them, cursing herself for not having brought their leashes.
She could only hope they hadn’t flushed some hardy courting couple out of the bracken.
She could see their quarry now, a tall, dark figure, standing quietly while the dogs leapt about him, yelping in joyous welcome.
She hurried into speech. ‘Good evening. I do hope they’re not annoying you. They’re not usually like this with strangers.’
For a moment he neither moved nor spoke, then he put down a hand and the dogs sank to their haunches, their faces lifted worshipfully towards him.
And Joanna knew in that instant, with a sudden sick dread, exactly who was standing in front of her in the darkness.
He said quietly, ‘They’re not annoying me, Joanna. And I’m hardly a stranger.’
The breath caught in her throat. She took a quick step backwards, the torch swinging up to illumine his face and confirm her worst fear.
Her voice was a scratchy whisper. ‘Gabriel?’
‘Congratulations. You have an excellent memory.’
She disregarded the jibe. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘My father died yesterday.’ A harshness invaded the usually cool drawl. ‘I’ve come to attend his funeral.’
‘But we weren’t expecting you—not for another two days.’
‘I decided to end my self-imposed exile and take an earlier flight. I hope it won’t cause you too much inconvenience.’
She swallowed. ‘No—no, of course not.’
‘Said with no conviction at all,’ he murmured. ‘Not that it makes a ha’p’orth of difference. I’m here, and I intend to spend the night under my own roof. And if that’s a problem for you, Joanna, you’re just going to have to sort it out.’
She said tautly, ‘You’re forty-eight hours early, that’s all. No big deal. And if anyone’s going to be inconvenienced it will be Mrs Ashby. I’d better go down and warn her.’ She paused. ‘Moll—Jess—come on.’
The retrievers didn’t budge. Gabriel laughed softly. ‘They seemed to have transferred their allegiance.’
She said, ‘Like all good subjects at the start of a new reign.’
‘Is that how you see yourself too?’ There was faint amusement in his voice. ‘Can I expect the same unquestioning obedience?’
She said shortly, ‘You can expect nothing,’ and plunged off down the path, aware that her face had warmed.
Don’t you ever learn? she castigated herself. Why bandy words with him when you always lose? Don’t let him wind you up.
He caught up with her easily, the dogs pacing at his heels. ‘Take it easy. You might fall.’
And break my neck? she thought bitterly. I’m not that lucky.
She said, ‘What were you doing up there anyway?’
‘I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours cooped up in boardrooms and shut in a plane,’ he returned shortly. ‘I needed to breathe—and to think.’
And to grieve, she realised, with sudden remorse.
She said haltingly, ‘I—I’m sorry I intruded.’
‘Where else would you take the dogs?’ His tone was dismissive.
They continued on downhill. Even with the torch-light to guide her, Joanna found the slope hard going. She was burdened by her awareness of Gabriel walking beside her, close enough to touch, but not touching—inhibited by her fear that if she put a foot wrong he would reach out a hand to her, and that invisible, necessary barrier would be shattered.
She needed to say something—to break the silence. ‘You might have telephoned,’ she remarked. ‘Told us to expect you.’
He said lightly, ‘I decided against it. You might have changed the locks.’
‘That isn’t very amusing.’ Her tone was chilly.
‘Who said I was joking?’ He paused, then said more gently, ‘Look, forget I said that. I suspect this is going to be a bloody difficult few days, Jo. Let’s do what we can to preserve the outward decencies, whatever our private feelings. For Lionel’s sake.’
‘You don’t have to bludgeon me with his memory,’ she said raggedly. ‘I’ll behave.’ She drew a breath. ‘I’ll go on ahead, give Mrs Ashby a hand. Have you had dinner?’
‘I had something on the plane. It successfully destroyed my appetite for the foreseeable future.’
‘Oh.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, when you bring the dogs in, will you dry off their paws, please? You’ll find their towels—’
‘In the rear cloakroom,’ he supplied. ‘Where they’ve always been. I’ve been gone for two years, Joanna. It’s hardly a lifetime.’
She bit her lip. ‘I thought it might have slipped your memory, that’s all.’
‘Oh, no, Joanna.’ His voice was quiet, almost reflective. ‘I think I can safely promise you that I haven’t forgotten a thing. Not the smallest detail.’
In the brief silence which followed, her sharply in-drawn breath was clearly audible.
He nodded, as if satisfied, then added, ‘Now, go and break the good news to Mrs Ashby. Like the dogs, she’ll be pleased to see me.’
Joanna turned and, half-stumbling, half-running, made her way back to the house.
Mrs Ashby’s reaction to the news was all Gabriel could have wished. She shed a few tears, smiled through them, made a few disjointed remarks, and bustled off to prepare his room.
Joanna knew she should have offered to help, but as she couldn’t in honesty share the good woman’s raptures she decided to keep her distance.
He’s been back five minutes, she thought, and he’s managed to unnerve me already. By the end of the week I’ll be a basket case.
When Gabriel himself returned, she was sitting in the drawing room, having dragged together the threads of her composure. She’d discarded her jacket and boots but resisted the impulse to tidy her wind-blown hair, or disguise the pallor of her face with cosmetics.
‘Well, this is a cosy, domestic scene.’
Joanna glanced up from the book she’d snatched up at random, and was pretending to read, to find him lounging in the doorway, watching her, his eyes hooded, his face inscrutable.
‘It’s better than you realise,’ she returned, trying to sound casual, in spite of the sudden dryness in her throat. ‘Grace has brought in a tray of fresh coffee. May I pour some for you?’
‘No, don’t get up. I’ll do it.’ He walked over to the side table and busied himself with the cafetière and cream jug. ‘She wanted to serve up a fatted calf, but I persuaded her just coffee would be fine.’
To her annoyance, the cup he handed her was just as she liked it. His memory for detail was indeed disturbingly good, she reflected uneasily.
Gabriel looked down at the book she was holding and whistled appreciatively.
‘Wisden? Is this interest in cricketing statistics a new