Master of Falcon's Head Read online

Ross started the powerful motor and the car shot away, leaving the grey mass of Falcon’s Head behind them. It was a marvellous morning, thought Tamar, unwillingly accepting that she still found pleasure in Ross’s company despite his ill-temper. Maybe it was because with him she was always completely aware of herself as a woman, something no other man had ever made her feel so powerfully.

  She felt in her pockets for her cigarettes, then sighed with annoyance. She had either forgotten to put them in, or lost them on the beach.

  Ross glanced her way. ‘What’s wrong?’ he inquired. ‘Wishing you hadn’t risked it?’

  Tamar could find humour in the situation in spite of everything, and she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘No,’ she replied calmly. ‘I’ve either lost or forgotten my cigarettes,’

  ‘And you want one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He shrugged, and putting his hand into the pocket of his jacket brought out a cigarette case with an adjoining lighter and dropped it on to her lap.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled, but apart from a faint narrowing of his eyes, there was no answering reaction. She lit a cigarette, drew on it deeply, and sighed again. Then she placed the cigarette case on the parcel shelf so that he could take it at will. She smiled at Lucy, then said: ‘Just for today, couldn’t we at least be civil to one another, as your mother suggested?’

  Ross swung the car off the main road, on to the twisting track that led to Dunwherry Cove.

  ‘Why did you agree to come?’ He glanced her way. “You could have refused.’

  ‘As you wanted me to do?’

  ‘Obviously.’ He glanced round at Lucy. ‘Lucy and I spend hours together. We don’t need anyone else.’

  Tamar felt hurt, as before. He didn’t seem to care how cruel he was. She turned her attention outside the car. The hedgerows were bright with colour, and the sun on the sea ahead of them hurt her eyes. She had not visited Dunwherry Cove since she returned here, putting off visiting the spot where she and Ross had spent so much time. Did he realize what thoughts were going through her mind? Did it ever occur to him that this place was special to them? Apparently not. He must have been here dozens of times, and what to her was a kind of pilgrimage, to him was just another place for a picnic.

  They stopped on dunes that fell away in shallow waves to a flat stretch of sand. The water foamed lower down the beach, and the sand was dry and deep. Lucy bounded out of the car as soon as Ross turned off the engine, eager to shed her jeans and sweater to reveal a pink and white striped sunsuit underneath.

  Tamar climbed out also, smiling at Lucy’s antics, wondering how on earth she and Ross were going to get through a day of one another’s undiluted company. If only he would relax, just for once, be the man she had loved so desperately.

  But he was never that man, argued a small voice inside her. That was why you left, remember, girl, remember!

  And yet it was difficult to see Ross as the careless seducer Virginia had made him out to be. At eighteen she had been young and impressionable, but now, seven years later, she could look back and wonder...

  When Ross got out and opened the boot to take out rugs and the picnic basket, Lucy came back to get her bucket and spade, and taking Tamar’s hand she led her down the dunes towards the water where shallow rock pools provided the means for excited discovery. Luckily the bottoms of Tamar’s slacks were wide enough for her to roll them up, and she stepped out of her sandals and paddled with the child.

  The sun was warm on her shoulders, burning through the thin material of her shirt. Lucy seemed unaffected by the heat, and splashed her companion mischievously, as any young child would. Tamar, good-naturedly, returned the splashing and eventually had to retire in defeat when her clothes began getting damp.

  She looked back to where Ross was stretched out on the sand, seemingly unaware of their presence. He had brought some papers with him and some heavy tomes which looked like reference books. Tamar thought he might be researching another book.

  Leaving Lucy to her innocent pursuits, she walked up the beach and stood looking down at Ross with curious eyes. Aware of her scrutiny, he looked up and said:

  ‘Playtime over?’ in a mocking tone.

  Tamar kicked her toes in the sand. ‘Oh, let’s stop this, Ross,’ she pleaded. ‘Are you researching a new book?’

  Ross sat up, taking off the dark glasses he had been wearing so that she could see his eyes. Today they were tawnily yellow, and while not looking exactly friendly there was not the violent hatred in their depths she had witnessed previously.

  ‘I’ve finished the book,’ he said, with some reluctance. ‘I’m merely checking over some of the script.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tamar nodded. ‘What is it about?’

  Ross’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now are you really interested?’

  Tamar wanted to shake him, so angry did he make her feel. ‘Of course I’m interested,’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘I - I always was.’

  Ross bent his head, and drew out his cigarette case from the pocket of his jacket which was lying on the rug. Then he offered her one, and put one between his lips. When they were both lit, he said:

  ‘Are you going to sit down?’

  Tamar felt nervous. ‘Are you inviting me to do so?’

  Ross looked up. ‘Yes, I’m inviting you, Tamar.’

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. She was afraid. But not of him.

  Instead she subsided on to the rug, overturning his reference books in the process. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed awkwardly. ‘I’m so clumsy!’

  ‘And nervous?’ he murmured questioningly,

  ‘You know I am.’ She studied her toes.

  ‘Why? Are you afraid of me?’

  Tamar shrugged. ‘Sometimes ...’

  ‘So you should be,’ he muttered, lying back and sliding the glasses back on to his nose.

  She turned to look at him. ‘Why, Ross? What would you do?’

  He twisted his lips. ‘Sometimes I used to consider ways of killing you, without suffering the obvious consequences of being caught,’ he said dryly.

  Tamar shivered in spite of the heat. He spoke so calmly, she was forced to believe him.

  Changing the subject, she said: ‘Tell me about the book.’

  ‘Well, what would you like to know?’ His tone was mocking.

  ‘Oh, Ross!’ She hunched her shoulders, drawing up her knees, and resting her chin on the top.

  He sat up, abruptly, studying her dejected figure. Then he pushed aside her hair, looking at her neck with darkened eyes. ‘Did I do this?’ he muttered huskily.

  Tamar’s whole body suffused with heat, and her breath came in jerky gulps. ‘Yes,’ she managed to say, chokily.

  He leant forward, smoothing aside her hair, and she felt the warmth of his mouth moving against her skin, caressing the spot where the chain had bitten into her soft flesh. Tamar felt herself sinking into a wave of feeling where nothing mattered but that Ross should go on being gentle with her, until passion flared between them and she could give herself completely. She could tell by the uneven tenor of his breathing that she was disturbing him also, and she murmured: ‘Ross,’ in an aching voice.

  Then suddenly she was free, and Ross was on his feet, brushing down his trousers as Lucy showed him the find she had in her bucket. Tamar had been unaware of anything or anybody, and it was difficult to gather her scattered emotions and speak casually to the little girl. But Ross was completely composed, and she wondered dully whether she had imagined the tenderness of his lips.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They had lunch soon afterwards, then Ross went off with Lucy, leaving Tamar to her own devices. She flicked through various histories of the monasteries, considered taking Ross’s manuscript out of its folder, but changed her mind. He had left her his cigarette case, whether purposely or otherwise, and she lay back and sunbathed, smoking now and then. It was very peaceful, and certainly there was a kind of contentment just being here, but now that she was alone
she found other thoughts to disturb her mind. Why did she continually find herself worrying about the possible outcome of this trip to Ireland? What possible reason had she for any kind of anxiety? And most of all why did she care what Ross thought of her?

  She rolled on to her stomach, digging her fingers into the soft sand, pillowing her head on one arm. She felt detached from all the things that had hitherto been familiar to her. She might have been eighteen again, lying on the sand here in Dunwherry Cove, waiting for Ross to come back from swimming. Then he would come, dripping with water, standing astride her, laughing at her, until he fell beside her on the sand, holding her close, exploring her mouth with his own. She had been happy then, so happy, never dreaming that happiness could be destroyed almost overnight.

  She rolled on to her back again and sat up. She could see Ross and Lucy at the water’s edge. Ross had taken off his pants to reveal dark swimming shorts and he was endeavouring to teach Lucy the crawl. Obviously she could swim, for every now and then she would skip away from him, plunging into the water and doing a kind of dog-paddle, splashing him wildly.

  Tamar smiled. Lucy was an adorable child, and she half-wished she had brought her own swimming costume as she had thought before. But maybe it was just as well. They seemed to need no one else, no intruder like herself.

  It was late before they came back up the beach, and Tamar looked up apprehensively at Ross, wondering what to expect now. But he merely dried himself lazily, making Tamar overwhelmingly conscious of the lean strength of his legs and the hard muscularity of his tanned chest. Obviously he was used to exposing his body to the elements.

  Lucy had some minute specimens of fish life in the water in her bucket, but when she carried them to the car, Ross shook his head, indicating that she should take them back to the rock pools and let them go. With much face-twisting, Lucy agreed, and walked sadly away to get rid of them. Tamar watched her go, then lifted the rug and shaking the sand out of it carried it to the car too. Ross took the cover from her casually, and Tamar returned to collect the empty hamper as he finished dressing, pulling on the thin sweater he had been wearing. They did not speak, and when Lucy returned it seemed to be taken for granted that they all got into the car, and returned home.

  On the journey back, Tamar sought about in her mind for something to say, but could think of nothing. It was as though that incident on the beach had never happened, and she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. Ross halted the car at the gates of the presbytery, giving her no opportunity to suggest returning to Falcon’s Head to see his mother.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, sliding out. ‘I enjoyed it.’

  ‘Did you?’ The mocking note was back in his voice. ‘Good.’

  Tamar hesitated. ‘Did you?’

  ‘I always enjoy Lucy’s company,’ he said brutally.

  Tamar’s cheeks burned. ‘There are times when I hate you, Ross Falcon,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Only times?’ he remarked sardonically. ‘I wish I had your forbearance.’ He ran a finger exploringly round the rim of the driving wheel. ‘By the way, I’ll tell my mother you tried again to make me change my mind about Lucy.’

  Tamar’s brows drew together. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, that was your objective, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Ross!’

  He smiled maliciously. ‘You’d try anything, wouldn’t you, Tamar? Unfortunately, your chances of succeeding are not very great.’

  Tamar clenched her fists. ‘Of course,’ she exclaimed. ‘That was why you arranged the picnic, wasn’t it? You knew I’d be going up to the house today, and you thought that was a way of avoiding me! What a pity Lucy doesn’t share your enthusiasm for rudeness!’

  She turned away, and walked through the gates into the garden of the presbytery, but Ross drove away, the powerful car causing a sudden wind in the narrow street,

  Ben arrived the following morning, driving the cream convertible which he and Margaret had brought from England. Margaret was with him, and Tamar’s heart sank to her shoes. Were they to have Ben’s sister for company the whole day?

  She went out to greet them, just as Shelagh Falcon appeared. The girl came over to the gate, smiling at Tamar in her friendly way,

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’ve just come to remind you to ask your fiancé and his sister to dinner at Falcon’s Head this evening,’

  Tamar, who had forgotten Mrs. Falcon’s command in the unexpected events of yesterday, wished there was some way she could refuse the invitation, but Margaret had already got out of the car and was listening to their comments.

  ‘How marvellous!’ she exclaimed. ‘Ben darling, Mrs. Falcon has invited us both for dinner this evening - and Tamar, too, of course.’

  Ben looked at Tamar. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘I just got to know yesterday,’ replied Tamar quickly. ‘Do - do you want to go?’

  ‘Of course we’ll go!” exclaimed Margaret, answering for them. ‘Who are you?’ She was looking critically at Shelagh, mentally calculating her relationship to the attractive master of Falcon’s Head.

  ‘I’m Shelagh Falcon, Steven Falcon’s wife,’ replied the girl, admiring Margaret’s outfit, a long-sleeved dress of blue linen, with a matching sleeveless coat. There was white embroidery on the collar of the coat and on the cuffs of the dress, and its short length was considerably more modest than the leather suit of two days ago.

  ‘Steven Falcon,’ Margaret frowned. ‘Oh, he is perhaps Ross’s brother?’

  ‘You know Ross?’

  ‘I met him two days ago,’ said Margaret, giving Tamar a sidelong glance. ‘Tell me, what do you do with yourself, Mrs. Falcon? In a place like Falcon’s Wherry there doesn’t seem to be much to pass the time.’

  ‘Oh, I read, and sew,’ said Shelagh. ‘I usually make my own clothes, and sometimes I knit.’

  ‘Charming!’ said Margaret, grimacing, and Ben said sharply:

  ‘Not everyone requires artificial entertainment, Margaret.’

  Margaret glanced at him. ‘You’re hardly qualified to express an opinion,’ she retorted coolly. ‘Only Tamar has really had any experience of undiluted village life!’ Her tone was mocking now.

  Tamar shrugged. ‘I find plenty to do here, I love walking, and I love the sea. I never feel bored in Falcon’s Wherry.’

  ‘I bet you don’t,’ exclaimed Margaret dryly, and Ben gave her an angry look.

  ‘Let’s forget it, Margaret, shall we?’ he said impatiently. ‘Tamar, are you ready? I thought we’d drive to Limerick and have lunch there. We can buy the ring there, too.’

  ‘Your engagement ring?’ asked Shelagh, with interest.

  ‘Yes. They’re going to name the day,’ remarked Margaret in a bored tone. ‘Maybe this dinner party this evening could be in the nature of a celebration.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Tamar was immediately conscious of having spoken too quickly. ‘It’s - well, that’s our private affair. I shouldn’t care to make a spectacle out of it!’

  Ben gave her a strange look, then shrugged, ‘Anyway, let’s be on our way,’ he said.

  Margaret glanced thoughtfully at Tamar, then turned to Shelagh. ‘I say,’ she said, in her most charming voice, ‘you wouldn’t care to invite me to spend the day with you, would you? I mean - well, naturally Ben and Tamar want to be alone, and there’s nothing much else for me to do.’

  ‘You need to change if we’re dining out this evening,’ said Ben cuttingly, obviously annoyed by Margaret’s blatant use of Shelagh.’

  Margaret was unperturbed. ‘Darling, I’m sure Tamar can lend me a dress when she comes back this evening. I’ll arrange to be here, at Father Donahue’s. I’m sure he won’t mind if I use Tamar’s room, too.’

  Tamar had to nod, and Shelagh was too polite to think up any reasonable excuses, and merely said: ‘Of course you can stay, if you want to,’ but she didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

  Tamar was amazed at Margaret’s impertinence, but there was nothing she c
ould do, and the two girls walked away together. Ben sighed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tamar, but what could I say?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me - or you,’ said Tamar, a little tautly, and went to collect the jacket that matched her suit.

  They spent a quiet day in limerick, and if Tamar’s enthusiasm at buying the ring was a little forced Ben didn’t seem to notice.

  They chose a pearl ring; it was a single stone, surrounded by tiny diamonds, and was very pretty. It looked expensive too, and Tamar thought Ben liked it for that reason.

  Then they found a hotel and had lunch, lingering over the meal, enjoying the quiet after Margaret’s inconsequent chatter the day she was with them. In the afternoon they indulged Ben’s hobby of looking at old buildings, and visited St. Mary’s Cathedral and King John’s Castle. Then they had tea at the hotel before driving back to Falcon’s Wherry.

  ‘You’re preoccupied,’ said Ben, as they sat in the hotel restaurant. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Nothing in particular,’ exclaimed Tamar, smiling. ‘Did you have a good day’s fishing yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, very good. Didn’t catch much, but I enjoyed the sport. What did you do? Did you go up to Falcon’s Head?’

  Tamar studied her ring for a moment. ‘Yes. Although actually I didn’t spend the day there. I went out with Ross - and Lucy.’

  Ben’s eyes darkened. ‘Oh, did you? Where?’