The Cutting Edge. Linda Howard

‘Is this all your luggage?’

      Sophie glanced round. ‘Mmm.’ Then she looked up at him again. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me, Robert?’

      He made an irritated gesture. ‘Of course I’m glad to see you, Sophie. I already said so.’ He picked up the two cases. ‘Can you manage the briefcase?’

      Sophie sighed and obediently picked it up. ‘Yes, I can manage, thank you.’

      Robert cast another unsmiling look in her direction and then strode away down the platform so that she had, perforce, to hurry to keep up with him. Once through the barrier, he led the way outside and halted beside a steel grey sports saloon parked in the yard. It was even more humid outside beneath the lowering clouds that were threatening rain, but to Sophie it was heaven to be back home again.

      She spread her arms extravagantly and then concentrated her attention on the vehicle. ‘This is new, isn’t it?’ she commented admiringly. ‘What is it? An Aston Martin?’

      ‘No. A Jensen,’ stated Robert flatly, stowing her cases in the boot. ‘Get in. It’s not locked.’

      Shrugging, Sophie opened the long door and climbed into the low passenger seat with its curved back and headrest. The instrument panel fascinated her and she was examining the various controls when Robert opened his door and levered his length in beside her. Immediately all else lost significance and she wondered what he would do if she attempted to kiss him again. It was a tantalising proposition and she turned sideways in her seat to look at him.

      ‘You’d better fasten the safety strap,’ he observed curtly, apparently unmoved by her scrutiny, and with an exclamation she swung round and did as she was told. She quelled the urge to make some insolent retort and looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, she said:

      ‘This is a super car, isn’t it? I wish I could drive.’

      ‘I expect your father will arrange for you to take lessons now that you’ve finished school,’ he remarked coolly, inserting the ignition key and starting the powerful engine. He opened his window and looked out, reversing expertly out of the parking space. ‘Congratulations, by the way. I hear you did well in your finals.’

      Sophie pressed her lips together. ‘Thanks!’

      The sarcasm in her tone must have got through to him, because he frowned and said: ‘Now what’s the matter? I wasn’t being patronising. I think you’ve got a good chance of making Oxford, don’t you?’

      Sophie sniffed. ‘I don’t want to talk about school and examinations! I’ve just left all that behind!’ She moved restlessly and then turned to look at him appealingly. ‘How are you, Robert? How long have you been home? And how long are you staying this time?’

      Robert concentrated on negotiating the busy late afternoon traffic, but when they reached a quieter thoroughfare, he replied: ‘I’m well. And actually, I’ve been in England a couple of months. I’m working in North Wales at the moment. We’re swinging a rail link out across the Sound to the Isle of Cymtraeth.’

      ‘You are?’ Sophie’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s marvellous! You must get home practically every weekend.’

      Robert’s hands tightened on the wheel. ‘Not every weekend, Sophie,’ he amended dryly. ‘I do have other calls on my time.’

      Sophie wriggled into a more comfortable position, watching him surreptitiously. He was so cool and aloof. She couldn’t get near to him, mentally at least, and her physical attempt hadn’t met with much success either.

      ‘How is everyone?’ she asked, determinedly trying to ignore his detachment. ‘Are Daddy and Mummy okay? And Simon?’ She forced a smile. ‘I had a letter from Simon only last week.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Why did you never write to me, Robert? I thought you would.’

      Robert ignored her last question and said: ‘The parents are fine, and Simon seems quite content to remain at Conwynneth school for the rest of his life.’

      ‘Why not? He’s happy there,’ commented Sophie thoughtfully. ‘He’s not restless. Not like you!’

      Robert swung past a lumbering wagon. ‘Is that what I am?’

      ‘Among other things,’ she retorted sourly. ‘Well, aren’t you? You weren’t content to stay in Hereford, were you? I’m sure Simmonds didn’t want to lose you.’

      Robert shrugged. ‘I was offered a better job with more money and the chance to see something of the world before I was too old to enjoy it. I don’t see anything particularly restless in that. No doubt you’ll feel the same.’

      ‘I shan’t!’

      ‘How do you know?’

      Sophie stared through the car windows. They were leaving the outskirts of the town behind, climbing into the hills. In spite of the darkening skies the countryside opening up before them was green and beautiful, splashed here and there with the dark clutches of forest which had provided cover for fugitives since the days of the Conqueror. The Welsh Marches! Sophie savoured the words. She might have been born in London, but this was her home, her heritage.

      ‘I’m not the—adventurous type,’ she answered him at last. ‘I’m basically a home-lover.’ She examined her fingernails. ‘Of course, if I were to get married, and—and my husband’s work took him overseas …’

      There was a pregnant pause, and then Robert said abruptly: ‘As a matter of fact, Sophie——’

      But he got no further. An ominous rumble of thunder echoed and re-echoed round the hills and he was instantly aware of her stiffening and of the shudder which ran through her.

      ‘You’re nervous of storms, aren’t you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Don’t be alarmed. You’re perfectly safe in the car.’

      ‘I know it. I’m sorry.’ Sophie tried to act naturally even though storms had always terrified her. ‘Please go on. What were you going to say?’

      Robert glanced sideways at her and there was a curious expression twisting his lips. Then he shook his head and said something entirely unexpected: ‘Who were those soldiers at the station?’

      Sophie gasped. ‘No one I knew. I had to stand all the way from Paddington. They shared the same cubbyhole, that’s all.’ A smile came through. ‘They insisted on carrying my cases. I can’t imagine why. Can you?’

      Robert’s expression softened slightly. ‘Stop fishing,’ he ordered dryly. Then, as a huge globule of rain splashed against the windscreen: ‘Well, like it or not, here it comes!’

      Within seconds they were engulfed in a torrential downpour that even the efficient wipers found difficult to cope with. Lightning streaked across the sky with a brilliance that artificially illuminated the brooding hills, and a deafening crash of thunder seemed almost completely overhead. Sophie’s palms were moist, clasped together in her lap, and she was trying desperately not to give in to the terror which filled her. But suddenly, Robert pulled the car off the road on to a grassy lay-by and releasing his safety belt switched off the engine.

      ‘It’s pointless going on in this,’ he explained in answer to the silent appeal in her eyes. ‘We’d have to crawl, and it won’t last long. It’s only a summer storm. You should be used to them by now.’

      Sophie drew a deep breath. ‘I know. I’m a fool.’ She trembled as she pressed the release catch of her safety belt and turned sideways in her seat towards him, drawing her legs up under her. His profile was unyielding and yet she had to suppress an almost irresistible impulse to stroke her fingers down his cheek. ‘Well, at least it gives us time to talk,’ she said rather breathlessly. ‘You can tell me what you were going to say.’

      ‘Yes.’ Robert leant forward and picked up a pack of Benson and Hedges, putting a cigarette between his lips almost absently. He flicked his lighter, applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette and leaned back in his seat, inhaling deeply.

      After