His aunt looked down at her hands. 'And yet—and yet Joanne told me that—that Melissa could have bden your child.'

  Oliver uttered a bitter laugh. 'Yes, I guess she could, at that,' he agreed dryly. 'Except that she's not—is she?'

  Lady Morgan shook her head. 'And you never knew ...'

  'How could I? I went to the States later that year. By the time I got back it was all over, wasn't it?'

  'Joanne would have aborted the child if she could.'

  'I don't doubt it.'

  Lady Morgan bit her lip. 'I—I wouldn't let her.'

  'You!' Now it was Oliver's turn to look stunned. 'But I thought—she said—'

  '—that the doctors wouldn't allow it. I know. But that wasn't true, Oliver. When she told me that she—that you and she had—well, I persuaded her that it might be your child!'

  'My God!' Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. 'My God, so that's why ...'

  'Why I feel so responsible for Melissa? Yes. I feel as though I brought her into the world. The fact that she was lame as well seemed like the final humiliation to Joanne.'

  'It would!' Oliver shook his head. 'Grizelda, how could you live with this and not tell me?'

  'I wouldn't have if—if—'

  '—if I wasn't_in love with someone else?'

  'Yes.'

  He sighed. 'Well, you've told me now, and as it happens, it makes not the slightest bit of difference.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'If Alix could care about me, believing that Melissa was my child, surely the fact that she's not can only strengthen our relationship.'

  Lady Morgan gave a defeated sigh. 'Then you'd better tell her, hadn't you?'

  Oliver gave her a crooked smile. 'And sort out another of the problems you created?' he asked. 'Didn't your ex­perience with Joanne teach you anything?'

  'Apparently not,' his aunt replied quietly; 'I think I'll go to my room. Mrs Brandon can bring me up a tray—'

  'No!' declared her nephew definitely. 'No, Grizelda, you can stay here and apologise to Alix.'

  'But, Oliver ...'

  'I insist,' he said, and with a grim smile, he left her.

  He mounted the stairs two at a time, and strode along the corridor to Alix's apartments. He was impatient to see her again, and he could feel the stirring excitement of his body as he contemplated making love to her later.

  He knocked sharply at her door, and waited for her to answer. When she didn't, he knocked again, accompany­ing the action by calling her name, and turning the handle of the door when again she did not answer.

  The room beyond was in darkness, and the lack of light puzzled him. Surely she couldn't be in bed, and if she was, he was still determined to speak to her. He turned

  the switch and lamps flooded the room with light. There was no indication of her occupation here, but this was only a sitting room after all, and after a moment's hesi­tation, he went through it to the bedroom beyond.

  The lamps beside the bed illuminated its lack of occu­pation, but Oliver's eyes alighted on her suitcases with sudden apprehension. Another look about him convinced him that she was no longer in the apartments, and with an angry exclamation he strode back through the lounge and out on to the landing.

  The first person he saw was Makoto, hovering nerv­ously at the head of the stairs. She looked questioningly at him as he brushed past her to descend, and on impulse, he said: 'Have you seen Mrs Thornton?'

  'Thornton san gone,' she stated, with a bow.

  Oliver, who had been continuing on his way, expecting a negative answer, turned and came striding back to her. 'What did you say?' he demanded.

  Makoto's enigmatism had never annoyed him as much as it did at that moment. 'Thornton san gone, Morgan san,' she repeated politely, and Oliver clenched his fists.

  'Yes, yes, I heard you. What do you mean, she's gone?'

  Makoto bowed again. 'Makoto see Thornton san going away this evening,' she intoned. 'Thornton san go in Landrover with man and woman.'

  'Faulkner and his assistant?' demanded Oliver angrily. 'She didn't go with them, Makoto!' he snapped im­patiently. 'Giles took them back to Newcastle, to catch the train.' He shook his head. 'She didn't go with them.'

  'Oh, yes, Morgan, san,' insisted Makoto primly. 'Makoto go outside and see Thornton san hiding in the back of Landrover.'

  'What?' Oliver couldn't believe it. 'You mean when Giles brought the Landrover and the others were getting in front—' 'Thornton san get in back,' agreed Makoto demurely. 'Thornton san unhappy here. She want to leave. Makoto know.'

  'How do you know?'

  'My Missy say so. My Missy say Thornton san want to go back to London.'

  'Oh, God!'

  With an oath, Oliver descended the stairs again, cross­ing the hall to the dining room with scarcely concealed fury. His aunt saw his expression and trembled before it.

  'Wh—what is it, Oliver?' she stammered. 'What's wrong?'

  'Alix has gone!' declared Oliver grimly. 'She hid in the back of the Landrover that took Faulkner and the other girl to Newcastle. She's probably on her way to London by now.'

  'Oh, Oliver!' Not for the first time his aunt felt a terrible sense of responsibility for what she had done. 'Oliver—I'm sorry.'

  'Yes, so am I.'

  Oliver flung himself into his chair, and when Mrs Brandon appeared to ask whether they were ready for dinner, he refused any food. Lady Morgan didn't feel like eating either, and the housekeeper had to suppress her disappointment as she went back to the kitchen. Her roast beef was going to be spoiled, but even she sensed that something more serious had occurred.

  'My guess is it's that Mrs Thornton,' she told her daughter sagely. 'Always said Mr Morgan had a fondness for her. And what with her husband arriving and all, there was bound to be trouble.'

  'He wasn't her husband,' muttered Myra reluctantly. 'I heard her telling Morgan. Should have seen Makoto's face when I told her!'

  In the dining room, Oliver dragged himself up out of his chair with difficulty, and his aunt looked at him anxiously. 'Where are you going?'

  'For a walk,' he replied coldly, 'if you've no objections.'

  Lady Morgan bit her lip. 'It's snowing,' she said un­easily. 'Seth's just been in to tell me. He says it will be inches deep by the morning.'

  'Is that intended as a warning?' asked Oliver bitterly.

  'What do you mean?'

  'I mean I intend to go to London tomorrow, whatever the weather,' he told her harshly, and slammed out of the room.

  Alix was cold. She had shouted until she was hoarse, and hammered on the doors of the garage until her hands were numb, but nobody seemed to hear her. Eventually she had to return to the comparative warmth of the car, huddling in a corner at the back, grateful that at least whoever had put the car away had not locked it. But now- even the car was chilled and cheerless, and without even a blanket to cover her, Alix began to shiver with the frightening realisation that she might well be there till morning.

  She had given up wondering what Oliver might think about her disappearance. After all, she had planned to run away, she had packed her suitcases. Anyone seeing them would assume she had gone, and who could blame them? If it had been Giles who had driven Willie and Linsey to their destination, the gates of the Hall were unattended, and Oliver might easily think she had slipped away meanwhile. What he would say when her where­abouts were discovered was another matter, and one which she hadn't the stomach to face right now.

  Some time later, she observed a curious lightening of the darkness that filtered between the cracks of the gar­age doors, and kneeling on the seat of the car she saw the flakes of snow being drifted under the doors by the wind that whistled eerily through the nearby trees. It was snowing, she thought despairingly, and in spite of the fact that she knew the garages were near the stables and therefore surely she would be able to attract the stable boy's attention in the morning when he came to feed the horses, she couldn't help a sense of panic that the car might not be used for days.

  Then, even as she knelt there, her chin resting on her icy hands, a sudden thud hit the doors, making the head ring with the metallic echo they made. Shock kept her motionless for a moment, and it was only when she heard the dogs barking that she realised the wolfhounds had sensed her presence.

  Not caring that they might be unfriendly, she scram­bled quickly out of the car and ran to the doors again, shouting and banging until the animals outside went nearly wild with excitement. If only she could make sufficient noise, she might attract someone's attention, she thought desperately, although the trees and the fall­ing blanket of snow would provide a soundproofing bar­rier.

  Then, when her strength was giving out, and she was on the point of dropping to her knees with exhaustion, she heard a man's voice, calling the dogs. And not just any voice—Oliver's voice!

  Trembling, she summoned up enough energy to call his name, but her voice was harsh after so much shouting, and had no penetration. She sank against the doors, sob­bing her frustration, and fell forward into a mound of snow as Oliver wrenched them open.

  'My God! Alix!' he exclaimed, pushing the dogs away and dropping on to his knees beside her. 'Oh, Alix! Alix! I thought you'd gone!'

  She looked up at him helplessly, her heart in her eyes, and with a muffled groan he hauled her into his arms, burying his face in the hollow of her neck.

  For several seconds they remained like that, and then Oliver rose abruptly to his feet, lifting her with him into his arms, unwilling to let her go even for a moment. The falling snow was covering them in a cloak of white, and without waiting for explanations, Oliver strode with her back to the house.

  In the hall, Lady Morgan came hurrying to meet them, staring in amazement at the girl in her nephew's arms. 'Alix!' she exclaimed. 'But, Oliver, you said—'

  'Not now, Grizelda!' he told her abruptly. 'Alix is frozen. She needs a hot bath and something warm to drink—preferably brandy. Can you see to that?'

  His aunt nodded, and Alix, feeling obliged to say something, croaked: 'I—I got locked in the garage, Lady Morgan. I'm sorry if I've been a nuisance.'

  Lady Morgan shook her head helplessly. Then, seeing her nephew's impatience, she nodded and hurried away towards the kitchen. Oliver, ignoring Alix's plea to be put down, continued on his way up the stairs, turning left along the landing, taking her to his rooms and not her own. He eventually set her on her feet in his sitting room, and Alix swayed dazedly as the warmth flooded back into her chilled limbs.

  Oliver left her to go into his bathroom, and moments later she heard the sound of water gushing into the bath. He came back to her, gesturing behind him.

  'Can you undress yourself?' he demanded, his voice full of some suppressed emotion, and she nodded quickly.

  'I—thank you for—for finding me,' she began, but he silenced her with a look.

  'The dogs found you,' he said. 'Get into the bath!' and turning, he strode out of the room, leaving her alone in his suite.

  Alix looked after him uncertainly. What now? What did he mean by that embrace in the snow? Where had he thought she had gone? And why had he brought her here, to his rooms? She didn't think she could face an­other scene, not now, and the weakness in her bones that she felt every time she was near him might not sustain her determination to refuse what he might ask of her.

  She was shivering uncontrollably, and deciding that no good could come of developing pneumonia, she took off her coat and scarf and went into the bathroom. The water was still running, filling the bath with some pine- scented fragrance, and she quickly turned off the taps before taking off the rest of her clothes.

  Never had water felt so good, lapping all about her like a soothing balm. Oliver's soap was pine-scented, too, and as she smoothed it over her skin, she couldn't help the intoxicating realisation that it had soaped Oliver's skin, too.

  'Have you nearly finished?'

  Oliver's voice made her reach blindly for the sponge, holding it defensively to her breasts. But it was a futile effort, and he took no notice of her embarrassment as he came to stand beside the bath, looking down at her with undeniable enjoyment.

  'Please ...' she exclaimed, her face flushing to match the rest of her. 'Oliver—go away!'

  'Why?' He came down on his haunches beside her, lean and disturbing in his tight-fitting jeans and navy shirt. 'Shall I join you?'

  Alix's pulses raced at his nearness. 'Oh, Oliver,' she breathed huskily, and putting out his hand he cupped the back of her neck, tipping her face up to his.

  'I love you,' he told her unsteadily, and covered her parting lips with his.

  She felt his free hand tug the sponge away from her unresisting fingers before moulding the swelling fullness of her breasts. Then, with an exclamation, he lifted her bodily out of the bath and into his arms, uncaring that she was soaking him to the skin.

  'Do you love me?' he urged, reaching for a towel and wrapping it round them both, and his answer was in the way she wound her arms about his neck and pressed her­self against him. 'Bo why did you try to run away?' he demanded savagely.

  Alix trembled and pulled herself out of his arms, notic­ing inconsequently that his shirt and pants reflected the outline of her wet body. Then she wrapped the towel about herself, and began to dry herself self-consciously.

  'Well?' he probed, unbuttoning his shirt. 'Are you go­ing to tell me?'

  'Oliver ...' She pressed her lips together helplessly. 'I'm sorry about—about deceiving you.'

  'So you should be. But that doesn't explain why you ran away.'

  'Doesn't it?' She sighed. 'But surely—you said yourself you could—you could break every bone in my body.'

  'For pretending you were married, yes, I could.'

  'For pretending I was married?' Alix stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  'Yes. Do you realise I nearly—' He broke off abruptly,

  pulling his shirt off his shoulders to reveal the tanned muscular hardness of his chest. 'Alix, I thought you were experienced!'

  She frowned. 'That makes a difference?'

  His lips twisted. 'Slightly.'

  'You mean—to your feelings?'

  'No!' he snapped impatiently. 'To the way I'd have made love to you.'

  'Oh!' She coloured again, and he swore.

  'Alix, have you ever slept with a man?'

  'No!'

  'All right. So take my word, there is a difference.'

  She bent her head. 'I've never—I've never let any man touch me as—as you've touched me.'

  He took a step towards her, and then abruptly turned away, as if he couldn't trust himself. 'Go on!' he mut­tered, and she noticed the thickening in his tone.

  'Well ...' She licked her lips. 'I thought—with Willie coming here ...'

  'Faulkner?'

  'Yes. I thought—I thought you'd want me to go.'

  'Is that all?' He glanced at her over his shoulder.

  Alix tucked the ends of the towel toga-wise about her. 'Not—not entirely,' she admitted.

  'What else?'

  He walked through to his bedroom, unbuttoning his wet pants as he went, and she hovered nervously in the bathroom, waiting for him to come back.

  'Well?' He appeared in the doorway again, pulling on a silk dressing robe, and her mouth felt dry as she realised he was as naked as she was beneath the thin material.

  'Your—your mother-in-law ...' She used the term deliberately. 'She told me about—about Melissa.'

  'So? That makes a difference?'

  'I think so.'

  'What do you mean?'

  His brows descended grimly, and she hastened on: 'I—I do love you, Oliver, you know that, but—but I can't just —live with you. I—well, I'd want your children, and—and not illegitimately.'

  'What in hell are you talking about?' he demanded violently, grasping her shoulders and jerking her towards him. 'What do you mean? You can't just—live—with me? Have I asked you to?'

  Alix trembled. 'I—why, no, but I thought '

  'Oh, Alix!' He was not immune to the agony in her face, and hauling her towards him he buried his face in the silken softness of her hair, moulding her slender body against his. 'Alix, you fool, I want to marry you! Whoever gave you the idea I wanted anything else?'

  Alix pulled her head back to stare at him. 'But you can't. Oliver, you can't. I won't let you.'

  He shook his head uncomprehendingly. 'You won't let me—what?'

  'Oliver, you can't deprive Melissa '

  'Who's depriving Melissa of anything?' he demanded, half angrily. 'In God's name, Alix, I'm a man. I love Melissa, but I need you!'

  She moved her head helplessly from side to. side. 'I—I can't let you do it,' she breathed. 'Oh, God—all right, I'll live with you. But if I get pregnant——'

  'Which you will,' he told her huskily, and she gave him a despairing look. 'Alix,' he added gently, 'so long as you love me, nothing can stop me from marrying you. Don't you know that?'

 

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