CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Lynn returned Blair's accusing glare unflinchingly. 'Are you actually accusing me of bribing the bus driver? I mean, is that what you really believe?'

His mouth became a thin line. 'It's difficult to know what to believe—especially when it involves certain people.'

'Which means you consider me to be a liar.' A laugh escaped her. 'Poor Mr Marshall, he's so confused! Perhaps he should grab the bus driver by the scruff of the neck, give him a good shaking and then explain what it's all about.' The thought made her giggle.

'Very funny,' he gritted.

'Or you could ask Tony how he happens to be here. I dare say he'll tell you the truth, even if I can't be relied upon to do so.'

Blair looked at the boy. 'At the moment he's incapable of telling anything. His mouth is positively stuffed.'

Tony chewed rapidly, swallowed, then appealed to Lynn. 'Have you gotta scone for Uncle Blair? Uncle Blair needs a scone with lots and lots of jam.'

'He sure does!' Lynn laughed as she turned to the man who still remained at the door. 'Won't you come in and sit down? The kettle is boiling, so I'll give you a cup of tea as well.'

'No, thank you.' His clipped tone emphasised his refusal as he entered the room and stood frowning at the boy.

Lynn went on calmly, 'Oh, well, I shall make tea just the same.' And while she did so she listened to Blair speaking to the boy.

'Why didn't the school bus stop for you?' he demanded. 'Didn't you pull the cord?'

'No.' The word was accompanied by a vigorous shake of the head.

'Why not?' Blair's voice had become stern.

'Because I wanted to come here. I wanted to see Lynn.'

'And she welcomed you with open arms. Haven't you been told you must not come to this place? It's dangerous for little boys.'

'And for big boys,' Lynn flashed unguardedly, then could have bitten her tongue. Fool—what would he make of that stupid statement? But perhaps it had slipped his notice.

It had not. Slowly he turned to face her, his eyes boring into her own. 'Big boys, Miss Nichols? What is that remark supposed to—er—indicate?'

'Nothing—nothing at all,' she assured him hastily.

'Is it possible that big boys could also be welcomed with open arms?'

'Certainly not,' she snapped, still irritated by her own lack of discretion, and by the added pinkness in her cheeks.

'That's a pity,' he replied mildly. 'It could be a way of leading to a closer understanding of the situation.'

'You mean by cajoling me towards your way of thinking?'

'Not at all. You might even convince me ‑'

Her laugh cut into his words. '"Convince a man against his will—he's of the same opinion still,"' she quoted.

'Oh, well, it was just a suggestion.' He turned again to Tony. 'You'd better know that Sandra is very upset. In fact she's hopping mad with you. She waited at the end of the drive but the bus just rolled past. She said you grinned at her through the window—that you even had the temerity to send her a wave.'

Tony's eyes widened. 'What's tem...tem...what you said mean?'

'It's another word for audacity—or effrontery.'

Lynn spoke in a dry tone. 'I'm afraid those words are over his head, Mr Marshall. You're expecting too much of a boy who is only six. I happen to know about words for children...' She stopped abruptly, casually removing the books from the table and feeling thankful that they were lying face downward.

Tony said, 'Please, may I have another scone?' The hazel eyes were pleading as they gazed at Lynn.

'Yes, of course.' She split, buttered and spread it with jam, placed the two halves together and handed it to him.

Blair spoke to the boy in a more kindly manner. 'You will eat it on the way home, old chap. You will go round the end of the lake, up the zigzag and across the field track. You will go to Sandra and explain why you didn't get off the bus—and you will say you are very sorry for causing her to be so upset. Is it understood?'

Tony nodded wordlessly.

Lynn had expected Blair to leave with the boy, but this, she soon realised, was not his intention. Instead he stood in the doorway while watching Tony's progress round the end of the water, and then instinct warned that his wrath was about to descend upon her own head.

Hastily, she poured two cups of tea. 'Sit down, Mr Marshall,' she invited affably. 'I know you're just bursting to blast my head off—so you might as well do it in comfort. Is that tea strong enough? Do you take milk and sugar?'

He regarded her with an amused glint in his grey eyes. 'Are you always quite so incorrigible, Miss Nichols? Or is this merely an attempt to take the wind out of my sails?'

She looked at him wonderingly. 'What can you possibly mean, Mr Marshall? Really—I don't understand.'

'Are you trying to leave me flapping helplessly by making a deliberate attempt to soothe my anger with a display of hospitality? You must think I'm an utter halfwit if you imagine I can't see through your little tactics.'

She forced sympathy into her voice. 'Are you not accustomed to being offered hospitality, Mr Marshall? Is this because you always appear to be so cross?'

'I am not cross,' he snapped irritably.

'No? You could have fooled me. It's the only way I've seen you.'

'I said, I am not cross.'

'Then prove it by drinking your tea.'

'It's just that I'm concerned about the boy.'

'You're worrying needlessly, so let's chat about something else. You're allowed to talk with your mouth full of scone and raspberry jam.' She pushed the plate towards him.'

'I must say they're delicious.'

'That's because they're freshly baked. When I'm here I make them each day because Grandy likes them.'

He looked about him. 'Didn't I see children's books? Are they also here for Grandy? I didn't think Max had quite reached his second childhood in the matter of reading material.'

'Oh, they just happened to be here,' she explained evasively, while acknowledging to herself that she was not yet ready to divulge her activities in this particular field. No doubt he would learn of it at a later date, but at present her instinct warned that now was not a suitable time. He would be certain to look upon it as a further enticement for the boy to visit her.

Pondering these thoughts, she was unaware that a shaft of late afternoon sunshine was now slanting through the kitchen window, catching her mass of unruly hair in a noose of flame. The same shaft caressed the twin rise of breasts beneath her bright green woollen jersey, causing a reflection that turned her eyes to emeralds.

And when she became aware that he was regarding her closely, her gaze became direct as she said, 'Something about me continues to worry you, Mr Marshall?'

He watched the play of the dimple beside the sweet fullness of her mouth then said quietly, 'I'll say it does. I consider you to be positively dangerous.'

The words startled her, causing her to straighten her back as she demanded indignantly, 'What on earth are you talking about?'

'Surely you can work that out for yourself?' he commented with a wry twist to his mouth.

'No, I can't. I've no idea what you are trying to say. The fact that you're antagonistic towards me sticks out a mile—but why I should be considered dangerous is beyond my comprehension.' Glaring at him she paused for breath before adding, 'Perhaps you'd be good enough to explain yourself.'

'I would if I could,' he informed her soberly. 'At the moment it can only be described as an instinctive fear that warns me against a hidden snare.'

Her eyes widened with incredulity. 'A snare! Do you mean a trap of some sort?'

'Something like that,' he admitted, his tone grim.

'And this... hidden snare... involves me?'

He hesitated then said, 'It's more likely to involve results. I mean results from the fact that you are here.'

'But you know why I'm here. Is it necessary to remind you that Grandy needs someone to care for him—at least for a while?'

'Personally I consider he needs someone older than yourself, and on a more permanent basis.' He regarded her thoughtfully before asking in a casual tone, 'How long did you say you'll be with him?'

'I didn't say. But why should it worry you?'

He looked at her without speaking, his penetrating gaze giving the impression that he sought to read her inmost thoughts, and then he asked softly, 'What have you got in mind?'

'I can sense the underlying fear in that question, Mr Marshall. Tell me, are you always so apprehensive about strangers who dare to stray near your boundary line, or who climb the zigzag to look at the view?' Her last words were flung at him scathingly.

'Only when I'm forced to wonder about their plans.'

'You couldn't possibly imagine I have any plans concerning yourself,' she said, then longed to recall the suggestion.

The smirk that played about his mouth caused his expression to become mocking. 'Any plans concerning myself would be a waste of time,' he informed her in a sardonic tone. 'I have myself well under control where women are concerned.'

She stared at him with wide-eyed interest. 'Really? Are you saying you dislike women?'

'I'm saying I have little to do with them. I'm far too busy.'

She continued to regard him with the interest she would give to a rare specimen. 'I must say you surprise me. Most men find at least a little time for women.'

He frowned. 'What do you mean? Why should it surprise you to learn that I'm not entangled with a female?'

She left the table abruptly and carried the empty cups to the bench where she turned to stare at him. 'Not for one moment would I have believed you were like that. And you're not even wearing an earring of any sort!'

His face darkened as he exploded, 'What the hell are you going on about?'

'Well, if by your own admission you're so very allergic to women, I can only presume you belong to the... the gay fraternity. I'm told they wouldn't even want to kiss a girl...' The words were regretted the moment they left her lips, and, acutely embarrassed at having broached such a subject, she turned her back to him, then bit her lip as she stood gazing through the window set above the sink.

But he was on his feet in an instant, an oath escaping as he swung her round to face him. 'I'll soon put you right on that score,' he gritted fiercely, then pinned her arms to her sides while pressing her against his body.

The unexpectedness of it caused her to catch her breath, and although she struggled to turn her face away his mouth descended upon her own in a kiss that betrayed domineering ferocity rather than affection of any sort.

She knew that his breathing had quickened, and that her own pulses were beginning to race. Nevertheless she wrenched her mouth free. 'You... you've got a nerve,' she spat furiously, her eyes glittering, her cheeks turning scarlet.

His face became expressionless. 'I felt sure you wanted to know whether or not I can kiss a girl.'

'I did not—I couldn't care less!' she exclaimed.

'Yet I feel you sound doubtful. Let me show you again.'

'Certainly not—there's no need.'

But despite her protest he proceeded to do so, although this time the kiss was less fierce as he teased and nuzzled her lips seductively before claiming them with a depth that betrayed an inner passion that pleaded to be set free.

Her senses were reeling when his mouth left her own, and as his arms released her body she could only blink at him in a dazed manner. 'You—you had no right to take such a liberty,' she declared, making an unsuccessful attempt to sound really angry.

'You yourself made it necessary,' he informed her coolly. 'Your outrageous suspicion that my preference did not lie in the direction of the fair sex gave me the right to prove I am well able to kiss a girl as she deserves to be kissed. Are you now convinced about that important fact?'

She had a strong desire to giggle, but decided to nod without speaking.

'I'm also capable of much more,' he murmured, his eyes hooded.

'I'm sure you are,' she admitted faintly while trying to control the tremor in her voice. 'But now... I... I think you should leave.'

'Why?' His hands went to her shoulders as he looked down into her face. 'Are you afraid of being kissed again? Is it because you fear you'll find yourself craving for more—and more—of the same?'

The audacity of the suggestion made her snap furiously. 'You flatter yourself, Mr Marshall. Just watch your step—or you'll find yourself falling under the snare of my own particular wiles.'

'I can cope with your wiles—you little firebrand,' he murmured, his voice strangely husky.

As the words ended the grip on her shoulders tightened, and again he snatched her to him. His lips claimed her own once more, but this time the kiss was gentle. It was seductively caressing as it teased her senses while causing her heart to throb, and while removing all desire to struggle against him.

At last it ended, but without removing his arms he continued to look down into her face. 'That was better,' he commented in a satisfied tone. 'You almost responded. Now—will you promise?'

She was puzzled. 'Promise what?'

'To remember my request concerning Tony. If he turns up at Frog Hollow—just send him home.'

'I can see that he must not be allowed to start fretting again,' she said without making any sort of promise.

'Then at least we're getting somewhere,' he applauded, again speaking with satisfaction.

A smile of understanding broke over her face, and, gazing up at him, she exclaimed, 'So that's what those kisses were all about.'

Frowning, he became wary. 'What are you trying to say?'

'Well, naturally, they were merely a means of persuading me to your way of thinking. They were, in fact, a sample of your own particular—wiles. Isn't that so, Mr Marshall?'

His voice hardened as he snapped, 'Your memory must be short if you've forgotten what really caused them. Something to do with my own preferences, if I recall correctly. However, if they've helped to guide you towards my way of thinking, then perhaps another kiss wouldn't go amiss ‑'

She was torn between raising her face and telling him to go home when the sound of a bark filtered into the kitchen. It caused Lynn to say, 'That was Mick. Grandy must be back from going round his flock. He's been watching for late lambs.'

Max entered the kitchen a few minutes later. He greeted Blair affably, but as he sank into a small easy chair beside the wood range he was unable to disguise his weariness. Then, as his eyes took in the sight of the teapot, he said, 'That's just what I need.'

'I'll make a fresh pot,' Lynn said, at the same time feeling thankful that there were two scones left.

Blair spoke to Max. 'I notice you're still breeding black sheep.'

The older man sighed. 'Yes. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd have an entire flock of them, even if it's only a small mob. I seem to have become a supplier of natural dark wool for people who belong to the numerous spinning and weaving groups in the district. They come to examine the length of staple, the texture of the fibre and the various shades ranging from light to dark greys.'

Shearing arrangements were then discussed, and as she listened to the conversation Lynn learned that next month a gang of Maori shearers would arrive at the Marshlands woolshed. The flock of three thousand Romney sheep would be shorn, and when that task had been completed the small mob from Frog Hollow would lose their wool. It was imperative, she knew, to keep the black wool from becoming mixed with the white wool.

Blair said, 'Maisie Bates has caught the spinning bug. She's waiting for your lot to be shorn.'

'Is that so? Then she can come to the woolshed while they're being done. It'll give her first choice.' Max took a scone from the plate Lynn had placed beside him.

Blair said apologetically, 'I'm afraid you've been eaten out of house and home. I've done my best, while Tony did more than his share.'

Max became interested. 'The boy was here? You brought him here?'

'Definitely not. I found him here and sent him home.' He then changed the subject by adding, 'I must compliment you on your cook.'

'She's just the best.' Max grinned, sending a fond glance in Lynn's direction. 'No doubt she's told you of her plans and activities?'

'No, she has not,' Lynn cut in sharply while feeling a sudden irritation towards her grandfather. 'Nor has she any intention of doing so.'

Blair looked at her with interest, his brows raised. 'Plans? Activities? What could they be?' he drawled, making no effort to disguise his curiosity.

But Lynn was not in the habit of expounding on her books for children, therefore she said firmly, 'They are my own concern entirely, Mr Marshall—and I'll thank Grandy for remembering that fact.'

'Sorry I spoke,' Max said with a trace of huffiness. 'And what's this Mr Marshall business? Can't you call him Blair?'

Blair laughed. 'It's Lynn's way of keeping herself out of reach.' He stood up to leave, turning to Lynn as he did so. 'I trust you'll not forget?' he said in a voice that had a significant ring to it.

'Forget?' Startled, she looked at him blankly. Was he referring to their recent embrace? The thought made her colour rise.

The reminder came quietly. 'My request concerning Tony—if you care to remember.'

'Oh, that.' Her voice sounded hollow.

'Yes, that. Did you imagine I could mean anything else?'

It was impossible to miss the mocking glint in his eyes, therefore she responded with studied coolness, 'What else could there be?'

'Indeed, what else?' He then nodded briefly to Max, and moments later he was striding round the top end of the lake towards the fence, which he vaulted with ease.

Lynn stood at the back door watching his progress up the zigzag. He's annoyed with me, she thought. He's got the pip because I didn't explain about plans and activities. And then a feeling of unreality gripped her as she recalled that only a short time earlier she had been in his arms and that he had kissed her.

The memory brought a feeling of warmth, and, although she made an effort to whip herself into a state of righteous indignation, genuine anger failed to register. And then honesty forced her to admit that the feel of his arms about her body had been rather nice—and that the pressure of his lips on her own was certainly something to remember.

Max spoke from behind her. 'What was all that talk about forgetting? I failed to get the hang of it.'

She turned to find his blue eyes regarding her intently. 'Oh, he wanted me to make a promise, but I did not make it.' She went on to tell him how Tony's failure to get off the school bus had brought Blair Marshall stamping to their back door. And as she finished by telling him of Blair's disapproval, she became aware that her grandfather was regarding her seriously.

'He's right, of course,' Max commented. 'You must not encourage the youngster to come here. There's also the matter of discipline. The boy must learn to do as he's told.'

'But Grandy, how can I send him away? I have a strong urge to give him love, to cuddle him in my arms ‑'

Max snorted. 'You'd be much wiser to find a bigger boy to cuddle; a man to hold you in his arms.'

'Don't be silly, Grandy.' Lynn giggled but found herself unable to look at the old man.

'Now this fellow Blair Marshall—I believe he's unattached.'

'Is that a fact? So what, Grandy?'

'He's got stability,' Max went on. 'He's a thoroughly sound individual with his feet on the ground.'

'Where else would they be, Grandy? Up in the air?' Lynn spoke flippantly while beginning to feel slightly hysterical.

'You know what I mean,' he growled. 'And let me tell you this—he's most eligible. His bride will be carried into a lovely home surrounded by a thousand acres of first-class undulating country.'

'How nice for her. Does that include Frog Hollow? I suppose you know he covets this place?'

'Of course I know—and it's understandable considering it was once part of Marshlands.' He paused thoughtfully then added, 'Well, he'll get it only if he marries you.'

Shock caused Lynn's jaw to sag. 'Wh-what are you saying?'

'You're in line to inherit it. I might drop a hint in his ear.'

She laughed, refusing to take him seriously. 'You do that, Grandy, and when he's on his knees begging for my hand I'll tell him it's only because he knows I'm Queen of the Frogs.'

Max remained unsmiling. 'I mean it, lass. When I shove off, this place will be yours.'

The thought of his death horrified her. 'Please don't talk about dying, Grandy... I-I can't bear it.'

'Nevertheless, we all have to go, and my day will turn up sooner or later. When it does I want to know that Mick will be cared for. I don't want him to be sold to a stranger who might put a boot into his ribs because he doesn't understand what's wanted of him.' He paused, looking at her seriously as he added, 'Promise me—if I pop off suddenly you'll turn to Blair at once.'

'Turn to Blair...?'

He went on, turning away from her surprised eyes, 'Mick knows him, and I'm sure he'd give the dog a good home. And I reckon Maisie Bates would see to Lucky's welfare,' he concluded with a heavy sigh.

It was the sigh that roused her suspicions, and then enlightenment dawned as his intentions struck her with force. 'Grandy—you cunning old fox, you're pushing me at Blair. Well, it won't work.'

'What won't work?' he demanded, still without looking at her.

'Your anything but subtle effort at matchmaking.'

'I feel sure I saw a gleam of interest when he looked at you.'

She laughed. 'Pure imagination. I've often wondered who endowed me with my own, and now I know. Dear Grandy, you'd better understand that I'm not one of his favourite people.'

'Because of the boy? You'd be unwise to allow that child to come between you.'

'You're away ahead of yourself, Grandy. There's nothing for him to come between. For Pete's sake, I've only just met Blair Marshall.'

'Things can happen quickly,' Max pointed out sagely. 'Personally I consider you'd be wise to obey Blair's wishes by sending Tony home.'

She shook her head as her decision footed itself firmly in her mind. 'No, Grandy,' she said quietly. 'If he comes again I shall not turn him away. That little boy can do with all the love he can find, and if he does begin to associate me with his mother—as Blair fears—it might make him feel she's not so far away after all.'

Max eyed her sternly. 'Can't you see that your philanthropic ideas will cause trouble between neighbours?'

'What big words you use, Grandpapa,' she teased, then added accusingly, 'You can't fool me. You're just afraid you won't get your sheep shorn in the Marshlands woolshed.'

'Nonsense,' Max snorted. 'Blair is a man of his word. He will not go back on it simply because he's annoyed by a girl with fire in her hair.'

She looked at him through troubled eyes. 'Grandy, please believe me when I say I've no wish to cause trouble between neighbours, but I can't allow that little boy to feel I'm rejecting him. Is it not possible for you to understand?'

He nodded gloomily. 'Of course I understand. I suppose you mean he'll feel he's being rejected again? We both know he's already been rejected by his mother.'

'Not entirely,' Lynn defended. 'Delphine has asked me to give her a report on the boy. She's anxious to know about his progress, and how he's faring without her.'

'Then you'll be able to tell her he's faring very well indeed while living in the homestead with Mrs Bates and the girl Sandra to care for him. I doubt that he's missing Delphine at all.'

'Perhaps you're right,' she said sadly, although she knew this to be untrue. Tony had come to see her because he had thought she could possibly be his mother.

It meant he had not forgotten Delphine, even if he had ceased his earlier fretting for her. However, Lynn had no wish for further discussion on the topic, therefore she said, 'I must go to the Waipawa supermarket tomorrow. I can't make wholemeal scones without wholemeal.'

In the meantime the evening meal waited to be prepared, and as she scrubbed the season's new potatoes her thoughts turned to Blair Marshall. Was it her imagination, or had he really kissed her while standing at this same bench? The memory of his enfolding arms holding her so closely against his body caused her breath to quicken, and she found herself gazing sightlessly through the window above the kitchen sink, her hands motionless.

But suddenly she pulled herself together. Snap out of it, stupid, she warned mentally. Don't let it go to your head. It doesn't mean a thing, especially to him—and no doubt he's offered the same treatment to every girl in the district.

This last thought irritated her to the extent of causing her to throw a potato into the saucepan with more force than necessary. Yet, pausing to think again, she felt that this Don Juan image did not really fit the character of Blair Marshall. A man of stability, Grandy had said.

Next day Lynn did not leave for the Waipawa township quite as early as she had intended. First the cottage had to be tidied, and then time was spent in drafting a story for teenagers. The idea had come to her during the first hours of awakening, and she knew the importance of anchoring it on paper before it vanished from her mind.

Lunch was then prepared, and, later, while Max enjoyed a short rest before leaving for his club, she wrote to Delphine. So far there had been little to report apart from the facts that the boy was being well cared for and appeared to be contented.

As she sealed the letter she heard the approach of the school bus. She held her breath, waiting for it to stop, but when it continued to rumble on its way she knew that Tony had not decided to pay her another visit. At least, not today.

A short time later she was driving her own blue Honda towards the small town which had been built on the banks of the Waipawa River. Its distance from the cottage was little more than two miles, and she had almost reached it when she saw Tony walking along the footpath in the direction of his home.

She reduced speed to watch him, noticing that he dawdled slowly while pausing to gaze at anything that caught his interest. Then, as she drew to the kerbside, his face lit when he saw who was in the car.

'Hi, Lynn!' he shouted, his relief evident.

She leaned over and opened the passenger door for him to get in. 'What are you doing here? Why didn't you get on the bus?'

'I missed it.'

'Surely the teacher didn't keep you in?'

'No, I was watching a fight.' His eyes shone at the memory as he rushed on to explain, 'When we came out of school two of the big boys started punching each other. All the other kids made a ring round them. Everyone was shouting until two teachers came out to make them stop. When I got to the gate the bus had gone, so now I've gotta walk home.'

She looked at him thoughtfully. 'I think you had better come with me. I've a letter to post and a few groceries to buy in the supermarket, and then I'll take you home.'

A short drive took her to the parking area of the supermarket, where she collected various items from the shelves while Tony pushed the shining nickel-plated trolley. Then, with the purchases locked in the car, they walked to the post office where she cleared her grandfather's mailbox and posted the letter to Delphine.

To reach this building they went through a garden-filled Centre Court which was surrounded by shops and edged by a children's play area. Tony trotted happily beside her, his unconcealed exuberance making her wonder if a trip to town was a rare treat for him, and she was still pondering this question as they made their way back across the Centre Court.

But suddenly he gave a gleeful shout as he left her side and ran towards a tall man who had emerged from the Bank of New Zealand on the far side of the Court. His voice reached her ears. 'Uncle Blair, Uncle Blair— I'm with Lynn.'

Blair stood still, waiting for her to reach his side. The scowl on his face indicated his anger while his tight jaw seemed to jut at her as he gritted, 'So, you took it upon yourself to bring the boy to town.'

'Not exactly ‑' she began.

'Collected him from the school, did you?' he rasped accusingly.

'Again, not exactly,' she said, her anger rising.

'Is it not possible for you to use your intelligence in this affair? Have you no wits at all?'

'How dare you speak to me in this manner?' she hissed furiously.

'I thought I'd made my wishes more than clear ‑'

'Your wishes do not concern me, Mr Marshall. I shall do as I think fit, and without any consultation with you.'

His mouth tightened as he said coldly, 'A silent worker, are you? Is this what your grandfather meant when he referred to your plans and activities? I recall you were very cagey about divulging what he meant. Do they involve a certain party?' His grey eyes, as bleak as granite, glanced down at the boy.

However, the reply Lynn was about to snap at him was forestalled by Tony tugging at Blair's coat. Looking up, he said plaintively, 'Uncle Blair, I'm starving.'

Blair's tone was still cool. 'Are you telling me you weren't fed on scones and jam today?'

Tony shook his head dolefully.

Blair's tone became dry. 'That's a shocking state of affairs. Do you think you could cope with a milk shake?'

Tony nodded vigorously. 'Yes, please, and one for Lynn, too?'

Lynn spoke hastily. 'No, thank you—it would choke me.'

Blair ignored the remark. 'We'll go to the restaurant and Miss Nichols will join me in a cup of tea.'

'That's what you think,' she snapped.

His face remained unsmiling. 'I already owe you a cup of tea. I intend to repay it right now while having a word in your ear about bringing this boy to town. You don't seem to have got the message.'

'Suppose I refuse to come to the restaurant?'

'Then I'll be interested to see if you put on a performance of kicking and yelling while I carry you there. It'll be the talk of the town.'

The dimple beside her mouth flickered at him. 'You're a positive tyrant, Mr Marshall. Did you learn your domineering ways from your cousin Stan?'

He scowled. 'Are you coming to have tea without a fuss?'

'Thank you, Mr Marshall. Perhaps it will help me cope with the wrath that is about to descend upon me.'

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