CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Blair shouted to her from the top of the zigzag. 'Hi, Lynn! What's the hurry? I want to talk to you...'

She ignored his words and almost raced down the last part of the track towards the fence. As she climbed over it she looked up and realised he had tethered his horse and was now following her, bounding down the track with the swiftness of an antelope. As she fled round the end of the lake she heard the creak of wires, then knew she was no match for the speed of his long legs.

He caught her at the cottage doorway, his arms snatching her to him while she gasped against his chest, too breathless to struggle from his grip that had the strength of iron bands.

'Why are you running away like a scared rabbit?' he demanded crossly, his breath also coming heavily.

'Wh—what do you want?'

'Just to talk to you. Is that so impossible?'

'Not really, I suppose. You'd better come inside and then you'll be able to blow my head off for trespassing on your property. I haven't forgotten your previous warning.'

He gave a snort of amusement. 'You haven't, huh?'

'No. Actually, I was there only because Tony wanted me to see Taffy. I couldn't disappoint him by refusing to go.'

'I'm aware of that fact. I spoke to Sandra as they were passing the hay barn. She told me he'd disobeyed orders and had run down to Frog Hollow to fetch you while she'd been talking to Gary. I also realise the daily rides take them to wherever Gary happens to be working.' He paused then asked, 'I presume Max is at his club?'

'Yes. He's fortunate to be able to go to a place where he can enjoy male company.' Speaking of her grandfather enabled her to feel more normal. It helped to subdue the flutter of excitement that made her fingers tremble as she put a match to the open fire in the living-room.

As she knelt before it, her mind reached back to the last time they had been together in this room. It was less than a fortnight ago, yet it seemed as if an age had passed, and suddenly she realised how nice it was to see him there. She also realised how very much she had missed him.

She was aware that he now observed every movement she made, and the knowledge filled her with a self-conscious nervousness. Her hand became unsteady as she placed thicker lengths, of wood on the flames, and when one log rolled on to the hearth he was beside her in an instant, adjusting the building of the fire.

Together they knelt on the hearthrug, the brush of his arm against her own sending a tremor through her nerves. The rising flames threw a glow of warmth to their faces, and suddenly the room became filled with an aura of intimacy which Lynn found to be most disconcerting.

In an effort to keep matters on an even keel-she stood up abruptly and moved away from him. 'You said you wanted to talk to me,' she reminded him, trying to make her voice sound nonchalant.

He rose to his feet, thrust his hands into his pockets and stood with his back to the fire. His words came casually. 'Maisie thinks it is time you and Max came to have dinner with us.'

She hid her surprise. 'This is an invitation?'

'Of course. What else could it be?'

'From Maisie?' The question came hesitantly.

'She's my hostess, you know. At least there are times when she acts as my hostess. And she admits she has taken a liking to you. I believe she would like to know you better.'

'You're saying she doesn't look upon me as a thief?' she asked pointedly. 'Well, that's very sweet of her. To be honest I rather liked her too.' She thought for several moments then sent him a direct look as she queried, 'Therefore this invitation is from Maisie? It is not from yourself.'

He contemplated her in silence before he said, 'If I admit the invitation is from me I dare say you'll turn it down flat. I recall that you said "goodbye" with some force, so no doubt I'll have words to the effect of never darkening your door again flung at me.'

'No. I've got over that particular upset, although I'll confess I was very hurt at the time.'

'I didn't mean to hurt you.'

'In that case I hope I never see you in action when you do mean to hurt me.' The words were spoken seriously.

'Such a time will never come,' he assured her quietly.

She sent him a bleak look, wondering why she felt doubtful, then a bitter laugh escaped her as she said, 'In the meantime I'm to take the accusations of stealing a passport and kidnapping a child in my stride? I'm to brush them aside as being of no importance to my integrity? Personally, I can't understand how you could believe it of me, especially after...' She fell silent as words failed her.

His voice came crisply. 'I don't think it of you. At least, not any longer. Clear thinking soon told me the whole idea was too preposterous for words. Nor could I see what you would have to gain by the action.'

'Then why make such an accusation?' she demanded fiercely. 'Especially after we'd been so... so close.' This time the final words were dragged from her.

He took a deep breath that was almost a sigh of resignation as he said, 'I can only say the suggestion had been planted in my mind, and I had difficulty in ridding myself of it.'

'Planted by Sandra,' Lynn said, her lip curling with disdain.

'I suppose she felt obliged to tell me of her fears,' he excused. 'And, believe me, I was desperate to hear your denials and the assurance that you were harbouring no such ideas.'

She looked at him reproachfully, her heart twisting as she remembered the quarrel that evening when they had returned from the beach.

Almost reading her thoughts, he said, 'Perhaps I was tactless in quoting Sandra. I should have been more diplomatic.'

'More trusting is a better word,' she told him bitterly. 'The fact that you don't trust me really gets under my skin. It bugs me until I could scream every time I think of it—'

His hands grabbed her shoulders, giving her a definite shake while he broke in impatiently, 'So, have a good scream and get it off your chest. And then it might be possible for you to see my side of the situation. Despite our closeness at the beach I kept wondering if there were plans simmering in your mind. Were you scheming to abduct the boy—for whom I'm responsible—even while your arms were about my neck?'

'No—no—of course I was not,' she almost shrieked at him, wrenching herself angrily from his grip. 'My oath—you must think I'm dumb. Do you honestly believe I'm so dim-witted I can't see that Tony is better off at Marshlands than in London?'

'I would have thought it was more than obvious to anyone.'

She rushed on, 'And I haven't forgotten that it was Delphine who left Tony—therefore, if she wishes to see him let her return to New Zealand to do so. She can fly from London to Auckland, and then from Auckland to Napier, which is only forty miles away from here. I'm sure someone would drive Tony to Napier to see her.'

'Certainly not,' he snapped. 'She can come the full distance.'

'Are you always such a hard man?'

'Can't you understand I'm thinking of the boy? My concern is entirely with him. What happens when he has to leave her and come home to Marshlands?'

What, indeed? she wondered dolefully to herself, then tried to hide her anxiety as she asked, 'Do you still think it's a crime for me to write and tell her about him?'

'No. I think I can see reason on that point,' he conceded, then surprised her by asking, 'Do you feel this little chat has cleared the air—or has it made matters worse between us?'

'Could they be worse?' she asked with forced sweetness.

'Only by the continuation of misunderstanding— which is something I'd like to avoid.'

His last words caused her spirits to rise. Did he actually care whether matters between them were better or worse? The thought that perhaps he did brought a smile to her face as she admitted, 'I feel things are better. It's as if a black cloud has lifted.'

He regarded her intently. 'You felt it too, that black cloud? You've been depressed?'

She nodded. 'Our quarrel made me unhappy. I hate quarrels.'

'So do I. Shall we start afresh with a promise of no more tiffs?'

'Yes, please...that would be lovely.' She looked at him expectantly. Quarrels were usually made up with a kiss, she thought, waiting for his embrace, but he made no move to take her in his arms.

Instead he remained standing before the fireplace where the logs still crackled brightly, and, without looking at her, he said, 'About coming to dinner—would tomorrow evening be suitable?'

'Only for me, but not for Grandy,' she told him. 'It's his Rotary Club meeting where an evening meal is served.'

'In that case we'll rescue you from eating alone. Shall I call for you at six o'clock?'

'There's no need. I have my own transport, but thank you for the thought,' she replied with dignity while fighting the inner frustration his lack of affection had caused.

'Nevertheless I shall call for you, Miss Independence. But now I must go back to see how far Gary has progressed with renewing those fence battens. He's a good worker, and when Stan returns Gary will be retained as his assistant. I'm sure Sandra will be more than delighted.' He grinned.

'She'll be ecstatic,' Lynn agreed drily, realising that Blair's thoughts were more with other people than with herself.

He left a few minutes later, still without touching her, and leaving her even more conscious of disappointment. And as she stood at the back door watching him stride round the end of the lake the disappointment changed to a sense of loss.

Despite the mending of the quarrel between them he appeared to have become withdrawn from her, and she realised there would be no more kisses or affectionate embraces. Tomorrow night she need expect nothing more than a meal and friendship. Very well—so be it. At least she knew where she stood with him. Precisely nowhere.

The knowledge nagged painfully, and that night she lay in the darkness of her bedroom with more tears trickling into her pillow. She told herself she was being a fool and that there was nothing to weep about, but somehow she was unable to convince herself. They'd made friends, hadn't they? All was now well between them, wasn't it? Then why this deep depression? Why had the black cloud returned?

Honesty forced her to admit that its cause lay in the fact that Blair had failed to take her in his arms, and suddenly she knew that that was where she longed to be. Did this mean she was merely craving male affection—or did it mean she was falling in love with him?

When Lynn told her grandfather she would be having dinner at Marshlands, Max made no effort to hide his satisfaction. He watched her put rollers in her newly washed hair, then demanded to be shown the dress she intended to wear.

The request made her laugh. 'Don't fuss, Grandy— it's not a large dinner party,' she assured him. 'It's only little me. Blair is being kind for some strange reason.' Of this she felt sure.

'Hmm. Perhaps.' Max did not sound convinced, but later he expressed his approval of her appearance. 'There's no need to say you look quite stunning, I suppose.'

She felt pleased, because he was not a man from whom compliments came readily. 'Thank you, Grandy. Mind you're not late for Rotary.'

She surveyed herself in the long mirror attached to the wardrobe door, then felt a rush of gratitude towards the saleswoman who had talked her into purchasing the expensive dress and matching jacket. Fashioned in fine wool and cut on modern lines, its deep creamy colour sent lights into her hair. The low round neck was decorated by an inch-wide shell-shaped edging of gold and pearl bead which was repeated down the front of the jacket.

Her only jewellery consisted of earrings, and even now she still marvelled at her luck in finding the large circles of gold and pearl beads that matched the decoration on the dress so perfectly. High-heeled gold strappy sandals completed the outfit, and as she picked up her French gold beaded evening bag she felt a sudden panic at the thought of being overdressed. But it was too late to change because Blair had knocked on the door.

He stepped into the living-room, then stood looking at her in silence. His well-cut suit was more formal than the usual run of menswear, his bow-tie giving it the effect of evening apparel. 'You look wonderful,' he said at last, his deep voice holding a low note which did nothing to conceal his genuine admiration.

'I've already told her that much,' Max said briefly, then added with a grin, 'I'm glad others can see it as well.'

'You'll be late for Rotary,' Lynn warned him hastily, then turned to Blair as her grandfather made his departure. 'I was afraid I might be too dressed up.'

'You'll grace the dining-room beautifully. We're eating in there this evening.'

The approval in his eyes sent a glow of pleasure through her, but she managed to say calmly, 'Don't you always use the dining-room?'

'No. It gives Maisie extra work, but I've decided the time is drawing near when it will be used more often.'

'Really? When will that time be?' she queried.

But he offered no further explanation. Instead, he said, 'In the meantime Maisie, Bert and Sandra have their meals at regular hours in the kitchen. However, tonight is a special occasion.'

'Special? Why would that be?' she probed.

'Tonight is your first meal at Marshlands. I've told Maisie it's to be like a family gathering.'

'Are you saying your parents will be there?'

'No. Taupo is too far away to make a trip for a meal. I'm afraid I don't see much of them, therefore I've come to look upon Bert and Maisie as family.'

The regret in his voice caused her to look at him with sudden insight. 'I believe you miss contact with your own family.'

'Yes. I'll admit I consider the family unit to be important. In fact, I envy large families.'

The words told her something about him, and they also gave her a reason for his special care of Tony. The little boy was his cousin's child, therefore he was family. And then another question leapt into her mind, causing her to ask casually, 'Is Sandra also part of the family circle?'

'Sandra hasn't been with me for as long as Bert and Maisie,' he informed her easily, then changed the subject by saying, 'Shall we go? Where's your woollen wrap?'

'It's here.' She picked up the handwoven cream cape she had worn to the arts and crafts exhibition.

He took it from her, and, as on that previous occasion, he placed it about her shoulders. His fingers touched her neck gently while adjusting the collar, then lingered on the rise of her breast as he attended to the diagonal line of buttons.

'This is an elegant garment,' he observed. 'It has a definite country air about it.' His fingers left the region of her breast, moving back to her neck where they stroked the smoothness of her jaw.

The touch of his fingers caused her throat to feel constricted, forcing her to remain standing transfixed before him. Her face was uplifted, and her heart began to thump while waiting for him to lower his lips to her own. But he failed to do so, and she found herself struggling against the let-down of anticlimax.

Had he known she'd been waiting to be kissed? she wondered while fighting an inner chagrin. Was disappointment written all over her face? If so he gave no sign of having noticed anything untoward as he opened the door and led her out to the car, which stood waiting on the drive.

Little was said during the short journey to the homestead, but as they turned in at the Marshlands entrance Lynn became aware of strange contradictions plaguing her mind. She had looked forward to this evening with such happy anticipation, so why did her instinct now warn her against hoping for too much? Was it because Blair had failed to take the opportunity to hold her in his arms?

The house on the hill breathed an air of welcome with lights shining in its upper windows and from the lounge and open front door, yet she continued to be assailed by a vague unease. Brushing it aside, she told herself it was merely a fit of jittery nerves, and, while she knew she had nothing to fear from Maisie's attitude towards herself, she realised that Sandra would be polite only because Blair was present.

He parked the car near the concrete steps leading up to the front porch, then led her into the hall. Maisie appeared as if by magic, her round face smiling pleasantly. She took Lynn's cape and laid it on a large ornately carved chest made from camphor wood, then turned to Blair. 'Bert has a lovely fire burning in the lounge, and there's time for you to give Lynn a couple of sherries before dinner.'

'You and Bert will join us,' Blair said, his tone sounding more like a command than an invitation.

'Yes—if you insist.' She turned to Lynn to say almost apologetically, 'My Bert is very shy when he first meets people.' She then disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Blair ushered Lynn into a large room warmed by flames leaping in the wide open fireplace. A glance showed the furniture and ornaments to be of high quality, and no sound was made as they moved over the thick pile of the wall-to-wall carpet.

He went to a cabinet where he poured drinks, while Lynn found herself drawn towards the large plate glass window which gave a panoramic view over the darkening countryside. Moments later he was beside her, a stemmed crystal glass of sherry in his hand. Offering it to her, he said, 'Welcome to the homestead.'

'Thank you, but it's not my first visit—in case you've forgotten,' she returned in a dry tone.

He ignored the significance of the remark as he said, 'Tell me if this sherry is to your liking.'

She took the glass from him, then examined the deep rich gold of the sherry. 'It looks very potent.'

'Corbans rich cream aged in oaken casks,' he told her, twirling his own glass and holding it to the light. 'It has a good nose.'

'And is guaranteed to make me chatter indiscreetly?' She smiled, taking a sip and recognising it to be a sherry she enjoyed.

He regarded her gravely. 'I'm ready to listen to anything you have to say.'

She took another sip. 'That sounds as if you expect a guilty confession of some sort.'

'I'm told that confession is good for the soul.'

'Wouldn't that depend upon the depth of the guilt?' She looked at him thoughtfully as a sense of depression began to steal over her, dragging forth an impulsive question. 'Why do I get the feeling that Tony's passport is still on your mind?'

He shrugged. 'I understand the hunt for it still goes on. May I ask what makes it leap into your mind?' His eyes became searching as they regarded her steadily.

She returned his gaze unflinchingly. 'You can call it my female intuition. It says you still doubt me, despite your assurance that you'd got over the suspicion.'

She turned away from him to continue staring through the window, her earlier apprehension returning with this evidence that he still lacked confidence in her. It hurt more than she cared to admit, and she had no wish for him to see the mistiness in her eyes.

He moved to stand closer to her, his hand resting upon her shoulder. 'There's a fine view from this window, but I'm afraid it's too dark for you to see it.'

She blinked rapidly, staring towards the west. 'I can at least see the lights of Waipawa, and beyond it there's a brilliant gold streak above the peaks of the Ruahines.' She turned her eyes towards the south. 'Across the river there's another sprinkle of lights.'

'That's Tapairu. It was once a well-populated Maori settlement, but the time came when the young people left it for the brighter lights of the city.' He paused, then added in a dry tone, 'So many people become bored with country life.'

She said nothing, sensing the dig at Delphine, then caught her breath as she felt his fingers tighten on her shoulder.

'Would you become bored with country life, Lynn?' The question came softly, his lips not far from her ear.

She shook her head. 'You're forgetting I have an occupation that thrives in the country. The fields are full of material for stories. Why do you ask such a question?' She held her breath, waiting for his reply.

But before he could say anything Maisie came into the room. She was followed by a short grey-haired man whom she introduced to Lynn as her husband, Bert Bates, and who came forward to shake hands with her. She noticed that Bert's bright blue eyes took in every detail of her appearance, and as they moved from Blair to herself she felt that despite his shyness he was observant.

Blair poured drinks for them, and as he did so Sandra made an entrance with Tony, her arm placed affectionately about the boy's shoulder in a motherly attitude.

However, Tony shrugged her hand away and ran across the room to Lynn. He flung his arms around her, then looked up into her face to complain in an aggrieved tone, 'Sandra wouldn't let me come till I'd eaten every vegable on my plate, and she gave me lots and lots.'

'At least I'm taking care of him,' Sandra said to Blair as though making an effort to drive this point home.

'Of course you are, Sandra,' Blair acknowledged. 'I'm sure you're doing your best and I'm grateful.' He then dismissed the subject of Sandra's duties by turning to Bert. 'I've just been telling Lynn that most of the young people have left the Maori settlement across the river. Too quiet for them.'

Bert nodded his grey head. 'I'd say that's a fact. All except Ada, of course. It's not too quiet for her.'

'You can't expect that poor girl to go far,' Maisie put in.

Lynn felt mystified. She looked from one to the other, then curiosity compelled her to ask, 'Who is Ada?'

'She's a statue made of Carrara marble,' Maisie explained. 'She stands in the church cemetery over the grave of a young woman named Ada Maihi who died in 1912. I'm surprised you haven't been to see it.'

Bert said, 'After her death her parents sent a photo of her to craftsmen in Italy, the order being a life-sized statue of her. It's a beautiful piece of work.'

'The blouse and long skirt she's wearing were the fashion in those days,' Maisie said.

Sandra turned to Blair, her expression anxious as she said, 'I've promised to take Gary over to Tapairu to see the statue. You don't mind if I... if I go out with him... ?'

Blair's voice held surprise. 'Of course not. Why should I mind?'

'I—I was just making sure,' Sandra said meekly. 'You see, Gary is always so sweet to me, and he's new to this district.'

Lynn looked at her wonderingly. Was Sandra hoping to raise a spark of jealousy in Blair? But the question was swept aside as Tony began tugging at her skirt.

The little boy regarded her seriously, then demanded in a clear voice. 'Lynn—please may I watch you do ogling?'

Puzzled, she looked at him in silence. Ogling? What on earth could he be talking about? 'I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean,' she assured him in a perplexed voice.

'Sandra told Maisie that you kept ogling Gary. I want to see how you do ogling,' he persisted, hopping with impatience.

A small gasp escaped Sandra as she snapped, 'Be quiet, Tony.'

The boy swung round to stare at her. 'You did so say she kept ogling Gary,' he accused defiantly. 'You did so!'

Lynn forced herself to utter a light laugh. It was an attempt to brush the matter aside, but when she turned to Blair she found no answering amusement on his face. Instead his expression caused her spirits to sink because it held serious questions. He had seen her talking to Gary, and it seemed as if he believed what Sandra had said.

Nor did he offer comfort when, after explaining to Tony the meaning of the word ogle, he added, 'Lynn's eyes are guaranteed to knock some people sideways—at least when they first meet her. You'll understand when you grow up.'

Part of this last statement hit her with force, sending her spirits to an even lower level. 'When they first meet her,' he'd said. Did this mean that he himself had been knocked sideways, but that he had now overcome that phase of temporary insanity? Was he trying to tell her that their kisses had taken place only during moments of lunacy?

She looked at him wonderingly, trying to fathom the answers to these questions, but his expression had now become inscrutable. She sighed, realising that this evening would not prove , to be one holding pleasant memories—and then the nail of distrust appeared to be hammered even further when he brought up the subject of Delphine.

His tone smooth, he asked, 'You've heard from overseas recently?'

'No. I've been told not to write again until I've been given a new address. I can only presume she's moving nearer her work.'

Sandra spoke casually. 'It's easy to guess you're referring to a certain party's mother. Nor will it be difficult for you to guess we're still searching for his passport.'

Lynn bristled at the veiled accusation, and in the tense silence that followed Sandra's words she fought to control her anger. As she did so she was struck by a thought that made her ask, 'Have you questioned Tony about it?'

Sandra sneered, 'Of course not. He's only six, and I doubt that he knows what is meant by a passport. Maisie and I have searched high and low, and that should be enough to prove it is nowhere to be found. It's been whipped off by an expert ‑'

Blair snapped angrily, 'That's enough, Sandra. You will not speak to our guest in that manner.'

Sandra sent him a disarming smile. 'I'm sorry, Blair— but you must realise I'm upset about this whole episode.' Her smile grew wider. 'Besides, you said that this was to be a family gathering, and families are always frank with each other.'

Maisie spoke sharply, her brown eyes troubled. 'That doesn't excuse rudeness, Sandra. You should apologise to Lynn.'

But Sandra maintained a sulky silence, and Lynn noticed that Blair made no attempt to draw an apology from her. Was he waiting to see what more could develop from Sandra's attack upon herself? Was he expecting the sherry to loosen her own tongue into a stream of confessions of guilt or admissions that she had taken the passport? He had already refilled her glass, perhaps with the hope that she would toss caution to the breeze.

She took a deep breath to control the nervous tension that was making her ready to scream, then she smiled as she questioned the boy. 'Do you know what a passport is, Tony?'

He nodded. 'Yes. It's a little book with no story in it. It's only gotta photo of me.'

Maisie was irritated. 'Well, now—will you just listen to that? When I asked him about it he just shook his head.'

Tony looked down at the floor. He shuffled his feet and said nothing while edging closer to Lynn.

She sensed his guilt. 'A little bird is whispering to me,' she said with a smile in an effort to gain his confidence.

'Are you sure it isn't a little frog?' Blair put in.

She ignored the remark as she continued to smile at Tony in a friendly manner. 'This little bird tells me you know where to find that passport. Will you tell Lynn the truth?'

'It's with a photo in my secret place,' he mumbled, then added more audibly, 'I've gotta have a secret place all my own.'

'Yes, of course, I understand,' Lynn assured him kindly. 'Tell me, why did you put these things in a secret place?'

'Because Sandra said she'd get rid of the photo with my mother and father in it. And the passport had a photo of me...'

'So you thought it was also in danger,' Lynn said.

Sandra exploded furiously. 'You little imp—where is it?'

'I'm not telling you my secret place!' Tony shouted at her.

'Of course not,' Blair agreed placatingly. 'Men must have their secrets. Now run and fetch them at once. I'd like to see them.'

Bert broke the silence following Tony's departure from the room. 'I know his secret place,' he informed them. 'He let it slip one day. Remember when he had a mouse in Dobbin's saddlebag? He told me he'd put a mouse in his secret place.'

'So that's where the passport has been all this time,' Maisie said, sending an indignant glare towards Sandra. 'I must say you didn't search very well. And you were so quick to blame Lynn,' she added reproachfully.

Bert appeared to be mystified. 'What's all this fuss over the lad's passport?'

Lynn betrayed her surprise. 'Didn't you know? I'm supposed to have stolen it.'

Maisie cut in, 'I didn't tell him because I didn't believe it.'

'Thank you, Maisie.' Lynn felt a surge of gratitude.

Moments later she held her breath as Tony returned to the room, the passport and wedding photo clutched in his hand. He gave them to Blair, who stared at them in silence, and watching them both she was unable to resist a cryptic remark. 'Perhaps you'll concede this particular round to me, Blair?'

'Yes—I think you can put a ring round that telling statement,' he admitted gravely. 'And I think this photo is the reason I thought I'd met you before. That cloud of flaming hair has stayed with me.'

'So that's another mystery cleared up.' She felt slightly hysterical. Giggles escaped her, erupting into laughter she found difficult to control while watching the unfathomable expression on Blair's face.

However, Blair's thoughtful silence had a different effect on Maisie, who stood up abruptly and spoke with decision. 'It's time Sandra and I attended to the meal,' she declared, then turned to her husband. 'Bert—perhaps you'll take a look at the dining-room fire. I'm sure Tony would like to help you carry a few pieces of wood,' she added as she left the room followed by Sandra.

Bert stood up. 'Coming, young fellow?' he invited.

The boy had settled himself on the mat before the fire. He looked up at Bert and said, 'No, thank you. I want to stay here beside Lynn.'

She spoke to him in a sorrowful voice. 'Poor Bert— he asked you to help him and you refused. I didn't think you'd refuse to help an old person—especially Bert.'

Tony thought about it for a few moments then scrambled to his feet. 'I suppose I've gotta do it,' he mumbled as he ran after Bert.

Blair sighed. 'Why can't Sandra handle him as you do?'

'Because at heart she's impatient with children— especially little boys like Tony.'

'But not big boys—like Gary?'

'I understand she likes to be with him,' Lynn said carefully.

'But you're not impatient with little boys?' he observed.

'Would I be writing for children if I were?' she pointed out.

'However, you must be thoroughly fed up with one particular... big boy,' he persisted.

'How right you are,' she commented decisively. 'I'm now regretting that I didn't come in my own car.'

He frowned. 'Are you saying you'd have left before dinner?'

'Well—soon after it. I wouldn't hurt Maisie by leaving before a meal she'd prepared for a guest. However, the manner in which you tolerated Sandra's rudeness towards me certainly made me feel like rushing home at once.'

'But now you're glad you didn't?' he queried.

'Yes—I'm glad because the mystery of the missing passport has now been solved. I'm really thankful about that.'

'Then perhaps you understand why I didn't blow my top at Sandra. I was hoping an answer of some sort might come out of it, although I didn't expect you to handle the situation so well.'

'It wasn't very difficult.'

His voice became soft, his eyes intense as they held her own. 'I suppose it's useless to admit that I regret any trauma it may have caused you?'

Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. 'That particular trauma was no worse than being accused of having plans to take Tony to his mother. Nor was it any worse than the attitude of suspicion you've constantly held towards me.'

'Is it necessary to tell you that those suspicions no longer exist?' His deep voice held sincerity.

'They don't? How interesting.' She sent him a bleak glance, and, having no intention of succumbing to the sympathy in his tone, she forced scepticism into her own.

Nor did it escape him. 'You feel unsure about that?'

'One can't be sure of anything round these parts,' she informed him abruptly. 'Nor can I help feeling that something else is sure to arise—something that will arouse your suspicions all over again.' An inner conviction that this would happen caused her to move restlessly, and, leaving her chair, she went to the window where she stood gazing across the darkness towards the lights of the Tapairu Maori settlement.

He crossed the room to stand beside her. His hand was on her shoulder, his head bent while he murmured in her ear, 'Get those thoughts out of your mind. You're meeting trouble even before it raises its head. Tomorrow I'll take you to see the statue of Ada Maihi.'

The freshness of his aftershave teased her senses, and although his words caused her. heart to leap she forced herself to say, 'Thank you for the kind thought, but it won't be necessary. I'm sure I can find my Way to Tapairu without too much trouble.'

His voice snapped crisply, 'Are you saying you've no wish to come with me?'

'You're reading the signs correctly,' she informed him calmly, her eyes still piercing the gloom beyond the window.

'The signs?' His hands on her shoulders turned her to face him. 'Kindly explain your reasons,' he commanded.

She met his gaze fearlessly, although her eyes were shadowed by an inner hurt. 'Well, to be honest, I'm not amused by the constant antagonism that arises between us. Nor do I appreciate your constant distrust.'

'Haven't I told you that all doubts have now flown ‑?'

'That's just the point, Blair. Those doubts shouldn't have been there in the first place, and, despite your assurance, they still lurk just below the surface. I know they are there. I can feel them.'

'I see.' His jaw tightened, but before he could deny her allegations Tony came running into the room with a message from Maisie. Dinner was ready and would they please go into the dining-room where everything was waiting to be served?

As they left the lounge Lynn knew a sudden despondency. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Why couldn't she let past hurts bury themselves and make a new beginning? But that wasn't Lynn's way. She wanted the air really cleared.

She had also hoped that Blair would have at least tried to persuade her to visit the settlement across the river with him—but he had made not the slightest attempt to do so. It meant, of course, that he couldn't care less.

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