For The Love Of Sara. Anne Mather

emergencies. The beer was warm, and he grimaced as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. If there was one thing he detested it was warm beer.

      But it was pleasant by the beck, and the sun was warm on his face as he stretched his length on the bracken. If Erica had been with him she would no doubt have been chiding him for risking ruining his clothes in this way, but then Erica, being in the fashion business, was always conscious of appearances.

      At a quarter to two he got up, brushed himself down, and walked back ot the car. The sky had become overcast within the last half hour, and even as he stepped into the vehicle he felt a spot of rain touch his face. Grimacing at the weather, he reversed out on to the road and turned back towards Langthwaite. By the time he reached the rise from which he could see the sprawling grey mass of the Hall below him, it was raining quite heavily, and he hoped Rachel would not expect the weather to deter him.

      He drew up beside the shabby station wagon just after two o’clock, and instead of getting out of the car to go to the door, he sounded the horn. It was an arrogant thing to do, and he knew it, but his feelings would not allow him any weakness or compassion.

      Minutes passed, and no one came, and his temper simmered. Damn the woman, where was she? She knew he would come. Why the hell hadn’t she been waiting for him? But he knew deep inside him that Rachel was not likely to be intimidated by what she would term an immature attempt to disconcert her.

      With a sigh, he thrust open his door and got out, scowling as within seconds his shoulders were wet. He ran for the porch, and as he reached it, the door opened and Rachel appeared. She looked surprised to see him, but he was convinced she had been waiting for him to get out of the car before showing herself.

      He sheltered in the porchway as she closed the door behind her, his expression not encouraging. “Very clever!” he observed coldly. “But rather childish, don’t you think?”

      She looked up at him with wide, innocent hazel eyes. “What are you talking about?”

      Joel opened his mouth to berate her, and then closed it again. He shook his head, and glanced briefly at her clothes. She was still wearing the shirt and slacks from the morning, but the apron had been replaced by a fur-lined poplin coat. Its dark green colour accentuated the pallor of her cheeks, and for a moment compassion stirred within him.

      “Do you want me to bring the car nearer?” he asked.

      She shook her head now. “I’m used to walking in the rain,” she replied. “Shall we go?”

      Taking the initiative, she stepped out from the porch, and with a suppressed oath, Joel strode ahead of her to open the car doors. She got into the front seat without looking at him, and he slammed the door more violently than was necessary before walking round the bonnet to join her.

      Once inside, he examined the shoulders of his jacket, and finding them soaked, he took his jacket off and slung it carelessly on to the back seat. Then he indicated that she might like to do the same, but she silently refused. Shrugging, he started the engine and drove down the drive, halting at the gates when she said:

      “Where are you taking me? I have to be back in an hour.”

      “An hour?” He glared sideways at her.

      “Yes, an hour. Sara sleeps for that long in the afternoons. I have to be back before she awakes.”

      Joel made no comment, but drove swiftly along the road towards the spot where he had parked this morning. There was room there to park the car off the road, and it was remote enough, goodness knows. Rachel said nothing as they drove along, and Joel wondered whether she was composing what she was going to say to him. For himself, anger simmered too near the surface for him to think with reasonable logic, and he had to force himself not to stop the car there and then and demand that she stop this ridiculous charade she was playing.

      It didn’t take long to reach the beck, and Joel stopped the car on the layby and reached automatically for a cheroot. Without asking her permission, he lit it and inhaled deeply, rolling down his window half way to allow the fumes to escape.

      “Well?” he said at last, when she still made no attempt to speak to him. “What’s it all about?”

      Rachel linked her hands together in her lap. “What’s what all about?”

      “Don’t give me that, Rachel. We both know what I’m talking about. I want to know how you came to know my father well enough for him to ask you to marry him.”

      Rachel lifted her slim shoulders. “I — I’ve known him for years, Joel. You know that.”

      Joel chewed impatiently at the end of the cheroot. “Because I introduced you?” He scowled. “That won’t do, Rachel. I can count on one hand the number of times you met my father through me. We were not — we have never been — the best of friends, and you know it!”

      “I — I was only explaining that — that it’s some years since I first met him, that’s all.”

      “I am aware of that.”

      “I know you are.” She curled her nails into her palms. “W-Why should it strike you as so extraordinary that your father should want to — to marry me? He — he always — liked me.”

      Joel’s mouth thinned. “Rachel, for God’s sake —”

      “Oh, Joel, stop it! Stop it!” She put her hands over her ears. “Why did you come here? What do you hope to achieve? Everything between us was over long ago. You know that. You have no right to question what I intend to do.”

      “Haven’t I?” Joel stared at her furiously. “Haven’t I, just! My God, you’re a cool one! Did you really think you could agree to marry my father without arousing any reaction from me?”

      “What’s it to do with you?”

      “You want to be my stepmother, is that it? You love my father now as you once said you loved me? Oh, come off it, Rachel, it won’t do! What is it? Some rotten attempt at revenge? Is this intended to show me what might have been?”

      “And what if it is?” she burst out hotly. “What can you do about it?”

      There was silence for a few moments and Joel stared grimly out of the windows at the falling rain. He couldn’t believe it! He simply couldn’t believe it! Rachel wasn’t like that. Or at least, she hadn’t been. But then it was years since they had split up. She had married since then, had a child. Who knew what manner of life she had led to bring her to this.

      With a sigh he said quietly: “Tell me why you disappeared like that. What did I do to arouse such a desire to escape?”

      Rachel took a deep breath. “You ask me that?” She shook her head bitterly. “What’s the use of talking, Joel? The past is dead. It’s the future I’m concerned about.”

      Joel’s jaw hardened. “At anyone’s expense!”

      “That’s not true. You know nothing about it.”

      “Then tell me.”

      Rachel pleated the folds of her coat. “Joel, I’m going to marry your father. Nothing you — or Francis — can say will alter that.”

      Joel’s fists clenched. “You must be pretty desperate, Rachel!” he muttered savagely.

      “I am.”

      “Why?” He turned to look at her, noticing again the hollows in her cheeks, the lacklustre quality of her eyes. Hardly the face of a bride-to-be. “Is it money? If it’s money you want, I can give you that.”

      Rachel’s lips twisted contemptuously. “If I were a man, I’d knock you down for a remark like that!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t marry any man for money! Oh, you should be proud of yourself, Joel! You’re a bastard of the first water!”

      Joel moved then, imprisoning her wrist between his fingers, feeling the fragile bones quiver within his hand. He knew he could