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felt it wiser to be silent.
He grimaced. 'No rising to it? Well, it leaves me to draw my own
conclusions.'
'Wouldn't you do that anyway?'
'If you told me the truth I would believe you,' he said, his eyes searching her
averted face.
'I refuse to discuss my marriage with you.'
He came over to the bed and her whole body tensed, her eyes flying to his
face with alarm in their green depths. His mouth hardened.
'Don't look at me like that or you may precipitate the very thing you're most
afraid of,' he said harshly.
Her face flushed deeply. 'Please just go ...'
He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled down the zip of her anorak.
'Trust me, Helen,' he said more calmly.
Her hand had risen to push his away, but now it dropped. She slowly
nodded, surprising herself. 'I do.'
He smiled then, brilliantly, his eyes a vibrant blue, the strong lines of his
face filled with charm. He drew the quilt over her and walked to the door.
'I'll call the doctor.'
'There's no need,' she said. 'Please ... Mr Eliot, please!'
He halted, turning his black head. 'Please ... Mark.'
She swallowed. 'Mark.'
There was a moment while they looked at each other across the room. 'Will
you trust me to bandage your ankle, then?'
She nodded.
'I'll get that tea,' he said, going out, and Helen lay back against the pillow,
sighing. He was a most disturbing man, and she knew it was madness to
allow him to stay here in the house alone with her, but she was tired. Her
ankle throbbed with a pain which seemed to have invaded her whole body,
weakening her usual strength of will.
With luck, she thought, Paul would be back at any moment. He should have
left the factory by now. She bit her lip, hoping he would not fly into a temper
when he saw Mark Eliot. He would very likely consider it a strange
coincidence that it should be Eliot who found her after her accident.
The door opened and Mark came into the room with a tray. He glanced at her
quickly, his eyes so shrewd that she felt he could read her mind, looking
away, flushing. He handed her a cup of tea and then began to attend to her
swollen ankle. She tried to suppress the wince which his light touch brought
and he said curtly, 'Drink your tea,' as though he was aware of her pain and
annoyed by it.
Helen drank the tea, eyes lowered, while he bathed and then bandaged her
ankle with cool, expert fingers. 'Keep your weight off it for a few days,' he
said. 'No bones broken, just some bruising.'
'It feels better already,' she said. 'Thank you for being so kind.'
His hands stroked her exposed calf and she felt a shiver of response run
through her, despising herself for it.
'You should go now,' she said huskily, drawing away from him.
He surveyed her with a strangely sardonic face. 'You're scared stiff of me,
aren't you, Helen?'
Pride stiffened her body. 'Don't be absurd! It's just that the neighbours will
talk.'
'They've been talking ever since that husband of yours arrived here,' he said
calmly. 'Is that how it's always been? He's had three jobs in as many years.
He had good references, though that puzzled me. Why, I asked myself, did
he move so often? Since he started working for me, the answer's been as
plain as the nose on your face.' His words broke off and his blue eyes
teasingly inspected her features. 'Except that you happen to have quite a
delectable little nose, Helen.'
'Don't,' she muttered, turning her face away.
His hand came out to pull her head around towards him. He leaned over to
look into her eyes. 'Helen ..
The door opened behind them and Mark's hand fell from her. He turned and
rose at the same moment while she stared at Paul, eyes enormous in her hot
face.
Paul was frozen in the doorway, his eyes narrowed. There was a long silence
which seemed endless to her.
Then Mark said lightly, 'I'm afraid your wife has had an accident, Eastwood.
She fell in the abbey ruins and almost knocked herself out. She has a
sprained ankle. It would be wise for her to stay in bed for a day or two.' He
walked to the door, his body held tensely. Paul did not move, watching him.
At the last moment, though, he shifted aside and Mark nodded to him.
'Goodnight, Mrs Eastwood,' he said politely to her over his shoulder.
Helen somehow managed to make a conventional reply. 'Goodnight, Mr
Eliot, and thank you for your help. You've been very kind.'
'How did you come to meet my wife right out there?' Paul asked as Mark
was about to walk from the room.
Mark looked almost bored as he faced him. 'I was riding, as I always do, and
I saw the accident happen, so I went over to see who it was she was
wearing an anorak and I thought it was a child for a moment.' -
Paul nodded thoughtfully. 'Lucky for Helen you came along, then.'
'I've bandaged her ankle. She should be all right. If there's any bad pain she
should see a doctor.' Mark gave him a brief nod. 'Goodnight, Eastwood.'
His footsteps sounded in the silence between the husband and wife. When [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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