had changed back into his former attire before lunch, and after the meal was over, Abby hurried upstairs to put on a fresh shirt. She didn’t have a lot of clothes and her jeans would have to do, but at least she could wear a different top. Deciding it might be cold at Keilaig, she wore a somewhat faded purple sweater with a roll neck, which nevertheless was warm and serviceable. Its ribbed lines drew attention to her swelling breasts, and she thought impatiently that it was really too small for her now. Still, her windcheater hid its more obvious limitations.
Mrs Tully encountered her in the hall. ‘Mr Jordan said to tell you he’s waiting in the car,’ she said half disapprovingly. Then: ‘Ach, I don’t know what the Father’s thinking of—letting you go off with a man like that!’ jerking her thumb towards the door.
Abby made an indignant sound. ‘I’m not a child, Mrs Tully. I can go out with whoever I like.’
‘Well, I’d have thought after what your mother suffered, poor thing, and him a friend of your aunt—–’
Abby turned towards the door. ‘I’ll see you later, Mrs Tully.’
‘Well, you watch yourself, miss, that’s what I say,’ Mrs Tully was saying as Abby closed the door with suppressed irritation behind her. As if it wasn’t hard enough, without other people reminding her!
Luke was sitting behind the wheel, and he leant across and pushed open the door from inside for her to climb in. Abby subsided on to the hide upholstery thankfully, glad the uncertainty in her legs was not having to be put to the test.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,’ she murmured, folding her hands in her lap.
Luke made no comment and started the car, driving away from the presbytery with careful deliberation. Then he paused. ‘Right or left?’
‘Oh—right.’ She spoke jerkily. ‘The—the opposite way from the way we went this morning.’
Luke acknowledged this with a slight raising of his eyebrows, and they turned away from the village on the steep incline out of the valley. At the junction with the Achnaluin road, they turned west, following the single-laned track which petered out at Keilaig. A few specks of rain landed on the windscreen and the wipers quickly flicked them away. But they were followed by others that soon had the wipers working full-time.
‘It would rain, wouldn’t it?’ she exclaimed, with enforced casualness, intensely conscious of the limited proportions of their surroundings. With the rain driving relentlessly against the vehicle on all sides, they were entrapped in a square of what seemed to Abby, in her nervous state, almost claustrophobic intimacy. ‘Perhaps it will clear by the time we reach the castle.’
‘Do you really expect it to?’ Luke sounded bored.
‘It might. We get these freak storms in the mountains. In half an hour the sun could be shining.’
Luke cast a disbelieving look her way. ‘Not after the sky has been overcast all morning. I guessed it would rain.’
‘Then why did you come, then?’ Abby sounded a little distraite.
Luke shrugged. ‘It seemed to be expected.’
Abby sighed. ‘Uncle Daniel wouldn’t have minded if you had wanted to stay at the house.’
‘Now that I am sure of.’
Abby frowned. ‘Why?’
Luke made a dry grimace. ‘You know that as well as I do.’
‘Do I?’
‘Abby, don’t play games with me. I’m too old for those kind of tricks. You must know your uncle doesn’t approve of your spending too much time alone with me. No’—this as she would have interrupted him—‘let me finish. I’m not saying he doesn’t—well, like me. He tolerates me, at least. And he has no objections to my staying in his house. But I don’t think he bargained for you wanting to come out with me, do you?’
Abby absorbed this mutinously. ‘Are you saying you agree with him?’
Luke sighed. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘What is it with you, Abby? Why did you want to come with me? What is it that attracts you? Me—or the Lamborghini?’
Abby pursed her lips. ‘That’s a rotten thing to suggest!’
‘Why is it? I’ve known women go out with men for the most peculiar reasons. And liking them isn’t always high on the list.’
Abby expelled her breath noisily. ‘Well, I do happen to —to like you.’
‘I see.’ Luke’s acceptance of her statement was ominous. ‘How well do you like me?’
Abby stared out at the driving force of the storm. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ And she didn’t.
‘You didn’t like me touching you this morning.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Abby pushed back her hair with a nervous hand. ‘Must you keep going on about that? I’ve told you, you startled me.’
‘All right.’ To her horror, the car appeared to be slowing, and after a moment he brought it to a standstill, the wipers stilling on the windscreen, completing the illusion of limbo-like isolation. Then he half turned in his seat toward her. ‘Now, tell me again.’
Abby’s throat felt so tight, every breath was an effort. ‘Please,’ she appealed, ‘can’t we go on? Or go back, if you’d rather.’
‘There’s no going back, Abby. Didn’t you know that?’ His arm was resting along the back of her seat. ‘Aren’t you hot wearing a thick sweater and a jacket?’
‘No!’ She shifted jerkily. ‘I—you’re wearing a jacket.’
‘This?’ He fingered the leather battle jacket he had worn that morning. ‘You know, you could be right.’ And withdrawing his arm for a moment, he struggled out of the jerkin, tossing it carelessly into the back of the car.
Abby did feel hot—but it was not just the weight of her clothing. She had the sensation of a non-swimmer thrown into the deep end of a swimming bath. Luke in this mood was wholly unpredictable, and not even the knowledge that she had, inadvertently, subtly altered their relationship could prevent her knees from shaking and panic from rearing its ugly head once more.
‘Come on, Abby,’ he said softly, and taking hold of the zipper of her jacket, he propelled it steadily downwards.
‘Oh, please …’
Eyes mirroring fear stared into his, and he shook his head cynically. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, continuing to slide the windcheater from her shoulders. ‘Even I would find it difficult to rape you in this vehicle!’
Her cheeks burned. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that!’
‘Why not? That is what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?’
‘No.’
