CHAPTER SIX
‘I
T ISN’T,’ Tara said, ‘as if it was a real date. So it really doesn’t matter what I wear. Does it?’
Melusine, lying on the bed, her paws neatly disposed under her, opened her eyes and squinted with the weary scorn of one who’d heard it all before. As indeed she had. Several times.
‘And you’re no help,’ Tara added, holding yet another pair of jeans and top in front of her and glaring at her reflection.
She didn’t wish to appear as if she’d dressed up for the occasion, treating it as some kind of special thing.
On the other hand she didn’t want to look as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards either.
And she’d brought no going-out clothes with her for the very good reason she’d planned on spending her evenings at home.
So much for planning, she thought, with a sigh. Of course she could always make an excuse—invent a headache when Adam called for her. And she could also visualise the cynical disbelief that would twist his mouth if she did any such thing.
She sighed again, and tossed the clothes she was holding on to the bed, just missing Melusine, who gave her an affronted stare.
‘You don’t walk in my shoes, so don’t judge me,’ Tara told her, running a distracted hand through her hair.
Of course there were always the things that she’d left in her old room, she realised, frowning. They weren’t new by any means, just oddments that had accumulated over the years, but there might be something that deserved another outing.
A swift rummage through the wardrobe produced a button-through denim skirt, flaring to mid-calf, and a blue and white striped shirt.
At least tonight she would look more like a woman and less like a painter and decorator. Though maybe overalls and a blow torch might be safer gear, she acknowledged, her lips twisting.
In her mother’s room, she found a dark blue knitted jacket and a pair of plain navy pumps.
When she was dressed, and her newly washed hair had been dried to curve smoothly and silkily round her face, she could even be moderately pleased with the overall effect. She applied a dusting of colour to her eyelids and cheekbones, and painted her mouth a soft rose.
She was just descending the stairs when she heard Adam’s knock, and drew a deep, steadying breath before she opened the door.
His brows lifted when he saw her, and he whistled softly and appreciatively. ‘You look terrific.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she returned, keeping her tone light. Because actually he was breathtaking, in beautifully cut dark trousers, topped by a black sweater, and a jacket in a fine black and white tweed that looked expensive and Italian.
She felt hunger twist inside her, a cold, desolate thing that could never be satisfied.
He was looking down at her feet. ‘Are you going to be able to walk to the village in those shoes?’
‘I’m not even going to try. We’ll go in my car.’ She met his gaze with something of a challenge. She’d decided while she was dressing that being at the controls of a vehicle seemed a safer bet than a long walk home in the moonlight.
‘In other words you plan to keep a cool head this evening.’ He sounded amused, but not put out.
‘I usually do.’ She noticed he hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. She also noticed Buster sitting in the doorway. ‘Is he coming with us?’
‘No, I thought I’d leave him here, if that’s all right with you.’
‘You’d better ask Melusine,’ she retorted.
‘Oh, I think the truce is holding.’ He pointed Buster in the direction of the kitchen, and the dog trotted off obediently. ‘Have you locked the back door?’
Tara tutted. ‘How did silly little me manage till you came along?’ she sighed. ‘Yes, it’s locked, and bolted too. And I’ve checked the windows.’
‘Leaving me to check my words for any hint of male chauvinism,’ he said drily. ‘Shall we go?’
‘We’d better. The pub gets very busy at holiday times.’
But when they got there she found he’d booked a table.
‘How did you manage this?’ Tara slid into her seat, noting that the bar was already filling up.
‘I found a phone box when I was out with Buster. I hope you haven’t eaten already.’
‘No, I haven’t, and I’m starving.’ Tara took the menu he was handing her with a thankful heart.
Adam’s lips twitched. ‘You’re amazing. You look as if a breath of wind could blow you away, yet you really enjoy your food.’
She laughed back at him. ‘That’s—’ Then stopped dead, as she realised what she’d been about to say.
That’s what Jack used to say.
Only, ‘You eat like a horse and never put on a pound,’ had been his actual, faintly carping comment.
‘That’s what?’ Adam prompted.
“That‘s—not a very fashionable way to be,’ Tara said swiftly. ‘Everyone seems to be on some kind of diet these days.’
“That’s true,’ he said. ‘But not what you really started out to say. Is it?’
She buried her nose in the menu, hoping her faint flush wouldn’t be noticed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’d like the spiced chicken, with sauté potatoes and a green salad, please.’
‘I’ll have the beef and Guinness casserole,’ Adam decided. He looked at her. ‘Are you going to permit yourself one unit of alcohol, or are you scared it might make your tongue run away with you?’ he added silkily.
‘Not at all.’ She handed her menu back. ‘A dry white wine spritzer, please.’
His absence at the bar gave her a chance to recover her composure. Keep the conversation general, she adjured herself silently. Don’t let this man under your guard, or he could be there, in your heart, for the rest of your life.
Perhaps she was one of those women always doomed to choose men with whom there was no future, she thought bleakly.
The folk band arrived at this juncture, and began to set up, so when Adam returned to their table it was easy to dive into a discussion about musical preferences—on which they seemed far too closely attuned for comfort, Tara decided uneasily.
The Black Horse was known for the quality of its cooking, so the food, when it came, provided another safe topic.
Her confused emotional state notwithstanding, Tara ate every scrap, including the excellent pear tart that both she and Adam chose for dessert.
And once the music started it wasn’t possible to talk much at all. The lead singers, a girl in a broad-brimmed black hat and a tall man with a ponytail and a crimson brocade waistcoat, had good voices, and excellent backing from traditional Irish instruments. They also had a beguiling way at the microphone, so that Tara found, almost in spite of herself, she was joining in the communal efforts with everyone else, conscious of Adam’s pleasant baritone beside her.
And when the girl sang, unaccompanied, ‘The Londonderry Air’, dedicating it to the cause of peace in Northern Ireland, a pin could have been heard to drop.
The time seemed to ny past.
‘It’s over too soon,’ Tara sighed, as the band, vociferously applauded, sang their last encore.
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Adam said. ‘May I offer you a nightcap on
Caroline?’
She could hardly plead tiredness after her previous remark, she realised vexedly. Besides, she had to admit to a certain curiosity. No doubt there would be pictures of his fiancée and other clues to his life she could pick up, so that when he went, he wouldn’t linger in her mind like an enigma.
Once I’ve solved his mystery, she thought, I can be at peace again.
It was a quiet drive back to Silver Creek. Adam seemed lost in thought, and she was reluctant to disturb his reverie. In any case, she had plenty to think about herself.
As she drew up she could hear Buster barking, a lonely, almost frantic sound which made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
As she unlocked the front door a terrified Melusine appeared from the darkness like a bullet from a gun, leaping on to Tara’s shoulder and wrapping herself round her neck like a trembling scarf.
‘Sweetheart, what is it?’ Tara tried to detach her pet’s claws from her jacket, but Melusine clung like a burr. ‘Buster must have frightened her.’ She turned angrily on Adam. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have left them together.’
‘Then why isn’t he chasing her now?’ Adam went past her and into the kitchen. Buster, still barking, was lying with his muzzle pressed against the back door.
‘Something’s upset them both,’ Adam said, frowning. ‘Have you got a flashlight?’
‘It’s on a hook inside the pantry door.’
He found it, and, coaxing Buster away from his vigil, unfastened the back door and let himself out.
‘Dogs and cats simply don’t get on,’ she insisted stubbornly, shivering in the sudden draught of cool night air. ‘And that’s all there is to it’
‘Is it?’ His voice came to her grimly out of the darkness. ‘Come and have a look at this.’
Still wearing Melusine, she joined him, Buster leaping excitedly beside her until Adam quietened him with a word.
‘What am I supposed to be seeing?’ she began, then gasped as she saw the deep gouges in the stout old wooden frame, and in the edge of the door itself. ‘What’s that?’
‘I’d say someone had been trying to jemmy it open.’ Adam’s voice was harsh. ‘Fortunately it’s a good, strong door, and there was the added disincentive of a dog in the house.’
Tara’s heart seemed to stop. She put out a hand, touching the splintered wood, then recoiled.
‘God,’ she said huskily. ‘I feel sick.’
His arm was round her like an iron bar. ‘Breathe deeply,’ he ordered. ‘Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.’
The breath was rasping in her chest. She turned, beating at him with clenched fists. ‘What are you talking about? Someone tried to break in. That’s nothing?’
‘It could have been much worse,’ he said curtly.
‘That’s easy for you to say.’ She dragged herself free and confronted him, her breasts rising and falling stormily. ‘It’s not your place that’s been under attack. Although you have a pretty casual attitude to other people’s property anyway. You seem prepared to stroll in and help yourself to anything that suits you.’
He was very still. ‘Are you still wound up about that bloody door chain?’
‘I think I’ve a right to be.’ Her voice rose. ‘Just look at the facts. You arrive from nowhere—take over a private mooring—behave as if you own the place—inveigle yourself into my house—and within a matter of days someone tries to break in.’
‘After I’ve cleared the way by taking you out for the evening, of course.’ His tone was icy with contempt. ‘You forgot to mention that bit.’
‘I haven’t forgotten a bloody thing, believe me,’ she said thickly.
There was a silence, then he sighed. ‘Tara—you’re upset, and you have every reason to be so, but you’re not thinking rationally. If I was setting you up, why would I leave Buster on guard?’
‘A smokescreen,’ she flared back at him defiantly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he said wearily. ‘That’s crazy, and you know it.’
‘I don’t know anything,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘And especially I don’t know anything about you, Adam—who you are—where you come from.’ She took a breath. ‘All I do know is you’re here—and everything’s different suddenly—and I don’t want it to be,’ she added on a little wail. ‘I want you away from here. Away from me.’
‘Then I’ll try not to distress you any more than necessary.’ His voice was terse. ‘Are you going to tell the police?’
‘Tomorrow—perhaps—I don’t know.’ Her hands twisted together. ‘After all, nothing really did happen.’
He nodded. ‘Will you be all right? If it’s any comfort, I doubt if your unwanted visitor will come back.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She detached Melusine from her shoulder, holding the cat in front of her like a shield.
‘Then I’ll go.’ He paused. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Tara. It will all seem better in daylight, I promise.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think it will change a thing.’ She held out a hand. ‘May I have my flashlight, please?’
He surrendered it without a word and she stepped backwards into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the darkness. She heard Buster’s puzzled whimper as she pushed the door shut with her foot.
She put Melusine down while she relocked the door and manoeuvred the heavy bolts into place. Not easy when her hands—her whole body—were trembling so much.
This house had always been her sanctuary—her place of safety. Now, suddenly, all security seemed to have flown, and there was danger instead. Not least the danger posed by the man whom she knew, with total certainty, was still standing silently outside.
Because although she might have been able to exclude him physically from the house, it would not be so easy to banish him from her heart and mind. As long as night followed day he would be there in her consciousness, irrevocably and for ever.