more startling against the black of her coat, eyes of clear grey, a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her uptilted nose, her mouth wide and pouting, even if unsmiling at the moment.
Perhaps she had been a little precipitate in relaxing her guard enough to remove her scarf and hat…
She waited for his startled expression to change to one of recognition, steeling herself for what he would say next, her tension rising as he said nothing.
She swallowed hard, pointed chin raised challengingly. ‘Not what you were expecting either?’ She deliberately put a taunting lilt in her voice. Perhaps he hadn’t recognised her after all…?
Green eyes narrowed icily. ‘I wasn’t expecting you at all!’ he responded.
He really hadn’t recognised her!
But even if he wasn’t expecting her, someone else was, and the sooner she made her excuses and went on her way the better she would like it.
She stood up. ‘Perhaps I won’t bother with the coffee, after all—’
‘It’s made now.’ He put the mug of coffee down heavily on the table in front of her, consequently standing much closer to her than was comfortable. ‘You look cold. Drink it,’ he urged as she would have protested.
Crys wasn’t at all happy with his dictatorial tone. But in the circumstances, still uncertain of the man—and his mood!—she was hardly in a position to object.
He sat down opposite her at the table, looking at her expectantly as he cradled his own mug of warming coffee in large, well-kept hands.
Crys slowly sat down again, the smell of the rich coffee tantalising to her senses, she had to inwardly admit. It had been some time since her last rest stop; the coffee at the service station had been tepid and weak to say the least. Perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm to drink this mug of coffee before going on her way.
Besides, the unfriendly Merlin was outside somewhere, making it impossible for her to leave without this man’s protection. She frowned as another thought occurred to her. Perhaps that was the reason this man had put Merlin back outside…
‘An overactive imagination and a suspicious mind,’ the man pronounced, without even glancing across at her. ‘What a combination!’ He gave a disgusted shake of his head before sipping his black unsweetened coffee. ‘What comes next, I wonder…?’ he mused, glancing over at her, one dark brow raised sceptically. ‘Drugs in your drink? So that you don’t put up a fight when I carry you upstairs with the intention of having my wicked way with you?’
Crys’s cheeks coloured fiery-red at the laughter that could clearly be heard in his voice, but at the same time she glanced worriedly at the mug in front of her.
‘Tell me,’ the man continued in that deceptively pleasant voice, ‘do you watch a lot of television?’
His implication was more than obvious! But, as she had already pointed out to him, the last half an hour or so had been far from pleasant for her, either. She was the one who had found herself face to face with that growling monster of a dog and had then been confronted by a wild-looking man digging a grave—who had given every appearance of being more fierce than his dog.
Overactive imagination, indeed!
She gave him a humourless smile. ‘As it happens, I don’t even own a television!’
He grimaced. ‘Then perhaps you should.’
She didn’t seem able to win where this man was concerned! ‘I read a lot. Agatha Christie, mostly.’ She answered the question defensively before he could even ask it.
He relaxed back in his chair, watching her with dark, unfathomable eyes. ‘Then this must seem like the perfect setting for a murder to you,’ he accepted. ‘A derelict, apparently empty castle. Guarded by a fierce hound. Inhabited by a darkly unwelcoming man.’
On the surface, all of that was true, and it was what she had initially thought. But in this warmly comfortable setting, with a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, this man no longer seemed quite so formidable. She’d already deduced by his voice that he was a well-educated man, and the removal of that bulky black jumper had revealed that he wore clothes Crys was pretty sure carried exclusive labels.
As for the dog… Well, for the moment he was safely outside.
And the castle itself… Crys was sure this man’s earlier answer, concerning the obvious dereliction outside, so in contrast to its comfortable interior, had been deliberately over-simplified—had merely been an avoidance of the true answer.
This man, she was sure, was playing with her. But not in the way of an attacker with his proposed victim, more as a way of self-defence. Which begged the question—what did he have to hide?
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Mr—I don’t believe I caught your name…?’ She raised blonde brows questioningly.
He met her gaze unblinkingly. ‘I don’t believe I gave it,’ he replied hardly.
She was well aware of that, damn him. But she had thought that good manners would— Good manners! What was she thinking of? This man had no reason to be in the least polite to her, let alone introduce himself.
A fact he was all too well aware of, if the knowing smile that now curved his lips was anything to go by!
‘Or that you told me yours,’ he added pointedly.
He was right, Crys decided stubbornly, there was absolutely no need for the two of them to be in the least polite to each other. Besides, she felt a reluctance to tell this man anything more about herself than he already knew.
She stood up, wrapping her scarf back about her throat. ‘It’s getting late.’ She looked pointedly out of the window at the increasing darkness through the foggy haze. ‘I have somewhere else to go.’
Her chances of finding Sam Barton’s home before it became too dark to see anything were pretty slim now, she realised, but she would probably be able to find a hotel somewhere, and could give Molly a ring from there.
‘If you wouldn’t mind seeing me safely to my car,’ she prompted, as the man made no effort to stand up. ‘Merlin may not take too kindly to my going outside alone.’ In fact she was sure, without this man’s presence, that she wouldn’t get any further than the door before Merlin showed his displeasure!
‘Probably not,’ her reluctant host acknowledged dryly.
Crys held her breath as she waited for his next move. If he stood up to see her safely to her car, then all the misgivings she had had where he was concerned were simply her overactive imagination, but if he made no move—
She gave a nervous start as the telephone on the wall began to ring shrilly in the silence of the kitchen, her hat falling to the floor in her agitation.
‘It’s only the telephone,’ the man drawled derisively as he stood up, green eyes glittering with laughter now.
At her expense, Crys knew. But driving in the fog for several hours had already strung her nerves out to breaking point. This unexpected encounter with this man and his gigantic dog had done nothing at all to ease her tension!
‘I
