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  But no! Julie swallowed convulsively. No! Angela had been very explicit. Destructively explicit! There had been no mistake on her part. So where did that leave them? In exactly the same position as they had been before Jonas's outburst. It was quite simple - either she believed Angela, or she believed Jonas. And quite honestly, Jonas's story was so unlikely that she had never seriously considered it. But what if she did? What if Angela was lying? What had she got to gain by it? And why would she go to the apartment while Julie was away? She had never appeared to like Jonas after they were married. Was it because she distrusted all attractive men after her father's behaviour?

  Jonas's reputation could not have helped.

  There still remained the fact that Angela had gone out with Jonas, if her story was to be believed. Hardly the behaviour of someone who despised her escort. If Jonas had invited her, though, perhaps she had not wanted to create open hostility between them by refusing.

  Julie sighed and rolled on to her stomach. Perhaps she should have been sophisticated enough to forget what had happened. She knew that other of her friends' husbands had been unfaithful without an irretrievable breakdown of their marriages. Indeed, she even knew of women who were cheating on their husbands without too much conscience.

  But she had never been like that; she had believed in the sanctity of marriage. She was old-fashioned, perhaps, but she had wanted no other woman's leftovers. Perhaps she ought not to have got married in this day and age when promiscuity was treated so lightly. Angela seemed to have a good time without tying herself down. But Julie hadn't considered it a penance. She had liked cooking, and even cleaning had its compensations. She had looked forward to the time when they would have children. She had wanted to feel Jonas's child moving in her. It was a disturbingly satisfying prospect. But that was all over now .. .

  A pain stirred in her stomach. It still hurt her, oh, God! How it hurt her. She had loved Jonas, really loved him. She would have done anything for him, anything ... Anything except accept his unfaithfulness ...

  She must have fallen into an uneasy slumber because when she opened her eyes again the room was quite dark, the only illumination coming from outside through a crack in the heavy curtains. She had the distinct impression that something must have woken her and she

  rolled over on to her back and stared around the room. It seemed deserted, and realizing she was holding her breath she expelled it on a low sigh.

  Then there was a terrific bang and she almost jumped out of her skin, jack-knifing upright in the bed, holding the covers closely to her chin. In heaven's name, what was that?

  The sound seemed to have come from along the gallery and holding her lower lip between her teeth she climbed out of bed and groped blindly for her robe. Then she padded to the door and opened it nervously, prepared to slam it shut again if some unearthly being was waiting outside. But that was ridiculous, she told herself impatiently. No unearthly being would find a closed door any obstacle.

  As she emerged on to the gallery, the bang came again and she sped along to the end where the spiral staircase was shrouded in shadow. And as a draught of cold air swept down on her she guessed, or thought she guessed, where the sound was coming from. Somehow the door to the battlements must have come open and the wind that moaned outside was causing it to bang against the wall and echo hollowly down the stone staircase.

  She put a foot on the stairs to climb up and shut it when a thought occurred to her. She had secured the door firmly this afternoon. How could it have come open? Unless someone had opened it? But who?

  Her heart almost stopped beating as the most ghastly thing of all occurred to her. She remembered how she had wondered whether anyone had ever thrown themselves from the battlements. She remembered Jonas's defeated expression, his silence at dinner; could he possibly have gone up there for such a purpose?

  Her throat was dry and she could hardly swallow, but in

  she forced herself to climb the stairs. Then, as the open doorway seemed to confirm her worst fears, a dark figure appeared in the aperture outlined against the sky for a moment before he began to descend.

  'Jonas?' she choked unsteadily. 'Jonas, are you all right?'

  His head inclined in her direction. 'Julie?' His voice was cool. 'I'm sorry. Did the banging wake you? Someone hadn't secured the door properly and it came open. It leads to the battlements.'

  As he turned to close the door, Julie nodded.

  'Yes - yes, it - it was me. I went up there this afternoon. But - but I did lock it.'

  Jonas came on down the stairs and she backed away from him until she reached the gallery. 'I expect the key got stuck,' he replied curtly. 'It sometimes does. And the force of the wind loosened the bolt. It's quite strong up there, but you'll be happy to hear that it's cleared the fog.'

  Julie shivered. 'I - I - why were you on the battlements, Jonas? Why didn't you just close the door?'

  Jonas's expression was impossible to read in the gloom. 'I was just checking to see that no one was up there, that's all. Why? What's it to you?'

  Julie shook her head. She was near to tears. Reaction was setting in and she felt isolated and alone. The small hours had always had this devastating effect on her, she thought miserably, even though in the months after their separation she had become almost used to them. She had rarely slept before the pale light of dawn was lightening the horizon and this was going to be another of those nights, she felt sure of it.

  He put out a hand suddenly, startling her, touching her arm where the wide sleeve of her gown was thrown back.

  'You're frozen,' he exclaimed impatiently. 'And your feet are bare! These floors may be carpeted, but they're stone underneath and chilling. Do you want to catch your ' death of cold?'

  Julie felt she didn't much care right then, but she said: 'I didn't stop to put on my mules.'

  Jonas began to walk along the gallery and she had to move to keep up with him. 'Weren't you nervous?' he asked quietly.

  Julie shrugged her shoulders. 'I -I was concerned.'

  'About what?'

  'I don't know. I had nightmares, I suppose. I didn't weigh up the possibilities, if that's what you mean.'

  'Very commendable.' His tone was dry, and she wondered if he was mocking her. He halted by the door a few- feet away from her own. 'This is my room. Good night.'

  'Good night.' She brushed past him, hurrying to reach her door, but his voice stopped her.

  'Is your fire still burning?'

  Remembering the darkened room, Julie shook her head.

  'Then come in here for a few minutes and get warm,' he offered abruptly.

  Julie hesitated, but as he opened the door of his room and the light from within illuminated his withdrawn expression, she realized he expected her to refuse. And so she should, she thought, but instead she nodded and came back to where he was standing. A frown puckered his brow as he stood aside for her to enter his bedroom, but she ignored it and looked about her with real interest.

  The room was smaller than the one she was occupying, but the bed was equally imposing. Obviously all the furniture in the bedrooms dated from the same period. The

  fire burned brightly in the grate and someone had just thrown on an armful of logs so that there was no likelihood of it dying for the next couple of hours. A book was lying on an armchair by the fire, and she guessed he had been reading when the door started banging. The knowledge was reassuring somehow. She had imagined he found no difficulty in sleeping.

  She turned to take a surreptitious look at him. He was wearing the same woollen dressing gown he had worn the morning he had entered her bedroom, but although his feet and legs were bare he was wearing green leather slippers.

  'Sit down,' he said, closing the door and indicating the chair where his book was lying. 'Just move the book. I can easily find the page I was reading later.'

  Julie found a taper on the hearth and slipped it into the book as a marker. Then she put the book aside and perched on the edge of the chair. Jona
s seated himself on the side of the bed some short distance away from her, but she could feel the probing intensity of his eyes upon her. He was probably wondering why she had accepted his invitation, she thought rather hysterically, but she didn't even know the answer to that herself. They sat in silence for five of the longest minutes Julie could ever remember experiencing and then he said: 'Well? Do you feel warmer now?'

  Julie nodded. 'Very much, thank you.' She rose to her feet. 'I'd better be going. It's getting very late.'

  'Yes.' Jonas made no attempt to detain her, but he stood up and his nearness caused a ripple of awareness to slide along her spine. It was such an intimate situation, she thought wildly. No one would believe that she and Jonas could be in such a situation without the inevitable happening.

  'I - thank you again,' she stammered, moving awkwardly towards the door.

  'It was nothing.' He was so cool, so unapproachable, so detached.

  'Jonas—' she began nervously.

  'Yes?'

  'Couldn't - couldn't we part as - as friends?'

  'You think I'm a liar. That's hardly a basis for friendship,' he replied grimly. 'But if you came in here for something else, then I'm willing to oblige.'

  'Wh-what are you talking about?'

  'You know well enough, Julie,' he retorted harshly, i 'What are you? A frustrated neurotic - or can't you resist the temptation to experiment once more before it's too late?'

  Julie gasped. 'Such a thought was never further from my mind! Just because - just because—'

  'Just because you came into my bedroom in the middle of the night wearing only the minimum amount of covering, I shouldn't get the wrong ideas, is that it?' he taunted. 'What did you really want, Julie?'

  'I wanted to get warm. And I had thought we - we might behave like civilized human beings,' she declared coldly. 'But I was wrong.'

  Jonas shook his head. 'Oh, Julie, can't you do better than that?'

  She took a deep breath. 'It's the truth. I - I know couples who - who are divorced who still meet regularly.'

  'Do you? And that's what you mean by being civilized?'

  'Yes-'

  'Well, you chose the wrong man, Julie. I'm not like that.'

  'Obviously not.' Julie reached for the handle, but he

  interposed himself between her and the door, successfully preventing her from opening it. A twinge of apprehension pricked her, but she ignored it and said rather tremulously : 'Please get out of my way.'

  'And if I choose not to?' He put out a hand and she flinched as he fingered the silky texture of the hair that fell softly over her shoulder.

  'Jonas - please—' She felt driven beyond bearing.

  'Please? Please what?'

  His hands curved behind her nape drawing her towards him. The pressure on her neck was more brutal than loving and when she tried to move her head she stifled a gasp of agony as pain shot simultaneously into her head and down to her shoulders. She lost her balance and fell against him, immediately feeling the hardening of his thighs through the materials that separated them. His hands became gentler, moving caressingly over her shoulders to her back, to her hips, holding her closer, her face against the parting lapels of his dressing gown.

  'Dear God, Julie,' he groaned, and with one hand he gripped her throat, turning her face up to his. His mouth came down on hers and although she knew she ought not to respond she couldn't help herself. Her lips parted and he kissed her hungrily, awakening urges inside her which had lain dormant for a long time. Her hands encountered the cord of his gown and her fingers closed round it. 'Unfasten it,' he said against her ear, and her blood was like a thunder in her ears.

  'I - I-no!'

  With a supreme effort she wrenched herself free of him and while he was still staring at her in a dazed way she dragged open the door and fled from the room. Her room had a key and she turned it, but she knew deep inside her that it wouldn't be necessary.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JULIE went to bed, but she scarcely slept and was up just after seven taking a bath. Her blouse and suit had still not been returned to her, so she was forced to examine the contents of the wardrobe again. She took out a dark red jersey slack suit and a navy silk blouse to wear with it. Then she coiled her hair into a chignon, and forcing herself to remain calm unlocked her bedroom door, walked along the gallery and down the stairs. | To her surprise a tan calf suitcase was standing in the pall. It didn't belong to her and her brows drew together perplexedly. Had Jonas got an unexpected visitor? I Her nerves tightening, she opened the living-room |door. There was no one about and biting her lip she walked along the hall to the dining-room. It was empty, too, and she continued on her way to the kitchen. The Macphersons were bound to be up and know what was going on.

  She heard voices as she reached the Macphersons' living-room and she passed through it tentatively and put her head round the kitchen door. Jonas was seated opposite Rob Macpherson at the kitchen table tackling a plate of kidneys and bacon. The bandage had disappeared from his hand and in its place was a wide stretch of Elastoplast. Mrs. Macpherson was busy frying bacon at the stove, but she caught a glimpse of Julie out of the corner of her eye and said:

  'Well, Mrs. Hunter, you're an early riser!' She glanced towards Jonas. 'Couldn't either of you sleep?'

  Julie's eyes flickered nervously over Jonas, too, but

  after a brief hard look at her he resumed eating. 'I - er - as I'm leaving today, I thought I'd - make an early start,' she stumbled.

  'Yes, I know.' Mrs. Macpherson's mouth turned down at the corners. 'Not that I approve, mind you.'

  Julie sighed. Jonas had told them. But what had he said?

  'I have my work to do, Mrs. Macpherson,' she managed awkwardly.

  'I realize that.' Mrs. Macpherson clicked her tongue. 'But Mr. Hunter's not fit to be driving all that way. His hand's not half healed—'

  'Driving!' Julie was totally confused. 'I don't—'

  'I'm driving you to London, Julie.' Jonas's eyes held hers now, defying her to argue with him. 'I can't let you go all that way alone, not after you made the journey here.'

  Julie gasped. 'I don't mind—'

  'But I do.' Jonas's face was grim. 'Would you have these people think me completely selfish?'

  Julie made a helpless gesture. Without creating an open confrontation with him here, in front of the Macphersons, there was little she could say. And what was his motive anyway? After last night she had expected nothing more from him.

  'Well, come along in and sit down,' exclaimed Mrs. Macpherson, spearing bacon on to a plate. 'Don't just hover there in the doorway. I expect a nice cup of tea wouldn't come amiss. It's a cold morning. But at least it's clear.'

  Rob Macpherson patted the chair beside him. 'Come and sit here, Mrs. Hunter. Tell me what you think of Castle Lochcraig.'

  Julie was glad to get off legs which had grown de- cidedly shaky. 'I - er - it's beautiful/ she murmured abstractedly.

  'Ay, it is.' Rob lay back in his chair with some satisfaction. 'I never grow tired of the view across the loch early in the morning. With the sun rising over Ben I Drossan. Och! It's a bonny sight.'

  Julie linked her hands together in her lap and looked down at them. Jonas was finishing his meal, thickly buttering a slice of toast, adding some homemade mar- malade, drinking a mug of steaming tea. He scarcely : seemed aware of her presence and she wished she had the nerve to say that she had no intention of driving all the way to London with him - that she was going to v take the train to Inverness as she had planned to do.

  Mrs. Macpherson provided her with a cup of tea and said: 'And what will it be, Mrs. Hunter? Scrambled eggs, bacon, kidneys?'

  'Oh - nothing to eat, thank you.'

  'You have to eat something,' protested the housekeeper.

  Jonas looked up. 'Bring my wife some toast, Mrs. Macpherson,' he directed coolly.

  I Julie glared at him as the housekeeper turned away to do as he asked. 'I'm not hungry,' she insisted.

 
'You can't begin a five-hundred-mile journey on an empty stomach,' he retorted curtly. 'As I recall, you're not always the best of travellers.'

  Julie pursed her lips. Trust Jonas to remember that awful occasion when she had developed car sickness on a trip to his mother's home in Yorkshire. She had gone down with 'flu a couple of days later and afterwards she had put the sickness down to that. But now Jonas was speaking as though it was a common occurrence, and it simply wasn't. In consequence, when Mrs. Macpherson brought the toast Julie ignored it, and no amount of silent adjuration from Jonas could make her do otherwise. Instead she drank three cups of strong tea and accepted one of Rob's cigarettes. She didn't like it. It made her cough. But at least it gave her something to do with her hands.

  Afterwards Jonas accompanied her out into the hall, advising the housekeeper over his shoulder that they would be leaving in half an hour.

  'That was rather childish, wasn't it?' he queried dryly, as they walked towards the tower hallway.

  'I've told you, I'm not hungry,' she retorted. 'And I wish you wouldn't make arrangements without first consulting me.'

  'Would you have agreed?'

  'You know I wouldn't.'

  'Enough said.' Jonas's tone was sardonic and he nodded to where his suitcase was standing. 'Have you finished packing?'

  'I still haven't had my clothes returned to me.'

  Jonas's lips twisted. 'That ghastly suit! You don't want that, do you? The clothes you're wearing belong to you, as I'm sure you're aware.'

  Julie's resolve weakened and then she mentally stiffened her shoulders. 'The suit is the one I wear for business.'

  'Business?' His lips twitched. 'How formal! Thank God I'm out of that rat-race. All right, I'll give you back the suit, and the shirt that goes with it, providing you promise not to wear them to travel in.'

  'I don't have to make any bargains with you!' she exclaimed hotly.

  'Don't you?'

  Julie flushed and compressed her lips. 'Oh - oh, very well. Where are they?'

  'In my bedroom. Do you want to get them?'