Moon Witch Read online

  'I see you're making yourself at home!'

  Sara swung round. 'Oh,' she pressed a hand to her throat. 'You startled me!'

  'I'm sorry. Carry on. I like watching you. That dress suits you perfectly.' It was a short-skirted tunic of green wool that drew attention to the curve of her breast and hips, and the length of her legs was not concealed. Her chestnut hair was in disorder about her shoulders, and he said, rather broodingly: 'I didn't realise before, Sara, but do you know you're going to be a beautiful young woman?'

  Sara's cheeks burned. 'J.K.!'

  'Well, it's true!' he chuckled. 'I think the next

  thing I'll buy you will be a car!'

  'Oh no! J.K., please. Don't buy me anything else!' Sara sighed. 'It's not that I don't appreciate it, I do, but don't spend any more money!'

  'Nonsense. You need a little sports car, a Triumph or a Sprite!'

  Sara remembered Jarrod's mocking words about getting his father to buy her a car, and shivered. If he came back and found her with one he would be sure to think the worst.

  'J.K.!' she said again, but he merely laughed, and said: 'I'll get in touch with Homers on Monday, and see what they can do for us.'

  During the two weeks that followed, Sara became completely used to living at Malthorpe. Her days were filled with activities, and when she wasn't out she spent hours in the library examining the books that J.K. had never even opened. She was learning to ride with Daviot, the stableman, a dour Scot who nevertheless treated her with kindliness and respect, and her own car, a Triumph Spitfire, stood in the garage whenever she was not out with the man from the driving school in Bridchester.

  She was gaining poise and confidence quite naturally, and although the only visitors she and J.K. entertained were Lauren Maxwell and her parents, and Doctor Landry from the village, she was gradually learning the art of small talk. Lauren didn't have much to say to her, treating her with a kind of amused tolerance, but her father, Donald Maxwell, was a charming man, and spent time talking with Sara and finding out her interests. Jennifer Maxwell, Lauren's mother, was less friendly.

  Whether she didn't like the idea of another woman living at Malthorpe, Sara couldn't understand, but certainly she seemed to think Sara had been incredibly lucky to have been accepted there.

  And so I have, thought Sara, with some diffidence. It's hardly credible really that I could be so lucky!

  One afternoon she told J.K. she was going shopping, but she left the car in Bridchester marketplace, told Potter she would see him there in an hour, and then strolled along the High Street to Mead Road. It was strange, even after only two weeks, everything looked gaunt and unfamiliar, and as it was a wet day, her feet were soon damp in her low-heeled pumps. Reaching Mrs. Mason's house, she knocked at the door, and a few minutes later Lily Mason opened it.

  'My God!' she exclaimed rudely, 'it's her ladyship come back, Mum!'

  Sara took no notice, and brushed past her down the hall, to where Mrs. Mason was washing up in the kitchen. 'Hello, Mrs. Mason,' she said. 'How are you?'

  Mrs. Mason eyed her up and down thoroughly, taking in every detail of the heavy mohair coat and fur cap, and the dripping umbrella in her hand. 'Well, well,' she said. 'So you came back. I never thought you would!'

  'Why?'

  Mrs Mason sniffed. 'You came to collect your belongings like a blinking rabbit!' she exclaimed. 'Bringing that man with you! Treating me like a stranger in my own home!'

  'He didn't even come in!' exclaimed Sara.

  'No, but he stood at the gate watching me like a hawk. I didn't dare go into my own house. Not while you were in here.'

  'Oh, Mrs. Mason!'

  'Don't you oh, Mrs. Mason me! Such things aren't for the likes of me!'

  'What things?' Sara's eyes were hurt and disturbed.

  'You going off with a man like that! Not telling me about it beforehand, or nothing!'

  'But I didn't know beforehand. His father had had a heart attack '

  'And was asking for you!' interrupted Mrs. Mason. 'Heck, you don't expect me to believe that one, do you?'

  'I don't know what you do mean, quite honestly!' said Sara. 'You know the terms of my grandfather's will as well as anyone!'

  'And that man--that Mr. Kyle--is he your guardian, or isn't he?'

  'Well, yes----'

  'There you are, then!'

  'No, you don't understand. I'm not living with Jarrod----'

  'So it's Jarrod now, is it?' Mrs. Mason looked belligerent. 'Just you get yourself out of here, young lady, before I gets Cyril to come and deal with you. I want no truck with the likes of you!'

  'Mrs. Mason!' Sara was horrified. 'There's nothing I have to be ashamed of. I'm living with that man's father--as his ward!'

  'I thought you said he had a heart attack!'

  'So he did--'

  'Oh, go on, Miss Robins! I want to hear no more 70

  about it. And you needn't bother coming round here, showing off your new clothes and boasting about your new friends. I know what's what. I wasn't born yesterday!'

  Sara shook her head, then pushing blindly past Lily who was standing in the hall listening, she ran out of the house. She ran along Mead Road into the High Street, and went straight to the car. Potter was lounging behind the wheel smoking, but he stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he saw Sara, and scrambled out.

  'You finished already, miss?' he exclaimed.

  Sara slid thankfully into the back of the car. 'Yes, thank you, Potter,' she said, nodding, and shrugging, he slid behind the wheel and set the car in motion. If he could see she was upset, he made no mention of it, and by the time they had reached the outskirts of the town, her tears had dried.

  But the hurt remained, and with it the knowledge that she had taken an irrevocable step. She would never have believed even Mrs. Mason could be so horrible. Accusing her of something she must know could never be true. Was that what jealousy was? Had Mrs. Mason allowed her bitterness to overcome her natural inhibitions? Sara didn't know, but as Mrs. Mason had said, she could never go back there again.

  Hedley the lodgekeeper waved to her as the car passed through the tall iron gates, and she waved back, putting aside her own problems. For after all, there was nothing she could do to change things now.

  Her feet were soaking, and she took her shoes off

  as she entered the hall. Morris came to greet her, taking her coat and saying:

  'Mr. Kyle is resting. Would you like some tea, Miss Sara?'

  'Oh, marvellous!' she said, nodding. 'Could you dry these, please?' She handed him the shoes, and walked across the springy carpet to the lounge, mentally shaking off the sound of Mrs. Mason's coarse voice.

  The radiogram stood open, and she smiled to herself as she went over to it. Lying on top was a selection of the current top-twenty records, a surprise J.K. had provided for her, and she put on half a dozen, allowing the loud rhythm of the groups to clear her depression. Turning the volume up, she allowed her own inhibitions to melt away, closing her eyes and dancing with the same abandon she had seen teenagers on television adopt. The noise was quite deafening this close and she did not hear a car arrive, or be conscious of anyone's scrutiny, until she swung round and found Jarrod Kyle leaning against the pillar watching her. Dressed in a thick astrakhan overcoat over a dark blue suit, drops of water sparkling on his slightly ruffled hair, he looked tall and lean and disturbingly attractive, his blue eyes narrowed, long black lashes veiling the expression in their depths.

  Sara halted abruptly, conscious of the informality of her attire, her bare feet, and the damp untidy tangle of her hair. She switched off the radiogram, and for a moment the silence seemed as deafening as the music had been. He did not speak, but continued to look at her, his eyes slowly following the length of her body and back to her face again, resting for a heart-shaking moment on her mouth.

  Oh God, she thought, feeling her limbs melting under his gaze. Is that how he looked at Lauren, and Tracy? If so it was no wonder they wanted him. S
he brought herself up short, and turned away abruptly, and as abruptly the spell was broken, and he straightened, and unfastened his overcoat.

  Then he turned and walked away, handing his coat to Hester, who had appeared from the direction of the kitchen with Sara's tea tray. He took the tray from Hester, and came back to the lounge, placing it on the low coffee table.

  Sara was standing with her back to the radiogram now, hands behind her back, and when he straightened, he said: 'Your tea, Miss Sara,' in a mocking tone.

  'Thank you.' With forced nonchalance, she seated herself beside the tray, and said: 'Will you have some, Mr. Kyle?'

  He shook his head, lighting himself a cigar. 'I prefer something a little stronger,' he remarked, pouring a whisky from the bottle on the cocktail bar. 'And how are you? I can see that you're quite at home already.' He came to stand in front of her, looking down at her with those intensely blue eyes. She wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having upon her, and decided it was unlikely. After all, she was only a silly schoolgirl.

  'I'm sorry if the music annoyed you,' she said quietly, lifting her tea cup to her lips.

  'Was that what it was?' he remarked mockingly. 'I'd never have guessed!'

  Sara wrinkled her nose, but did not argue with him. 'I didn't hear the car,' she said.

  'That's hardly surprising, is it?' he murmured sardonically. 'Are you pleased to see me?'

  Sara looked up now, startled. 'Should I be?'

  Jarrod half-smiled. 'Well, I am your guardian, aren't I?'

  'You're many things,' she returned, and bent her head again.

  'What is that supposed to mean?' He was interested in spite of himself. 'What has J.K. been telling you?'

  'We rarely discuss you,' she retorted. 'And before you find out some other way--I've got a sports car!'

  He grinned quite openly now. 'Oh really! What?'

  'A Triumph. But I'm just learning to drive at the moment, so you won't see me dashing around the countryside just yet!'

  'What a pity! And what a sharp tongue you're getting. A couple of weeks ago you wouldn't have dared to speak to me like this!'

  Sara felt the tell-tale flush rising up her cheeks, much to her annoyance. 'Wouldn't I?' she parried, and he shrugged, and put his cigar between his teeth, unfastening the top button of his shirt, and loosening his tie a little. As usual, his clothes were sleek and expensive, and fitted his lean muscular body closely. She wondered if Lauren Maxwell knew he was home, and if so whether she would be dashing over to spend the evening with him. The idea annoyed her somewhat, and she thought with a sense of dismay that although she saw so little of him, she was becoming absorbed with him intensely.

  He flung himself into an easy chair opposite her, and said: 'Has J.K. been buying you clothes, too?'

  and when she nodded her head, he continued: 'That dress suits you. I like it.'

  The dress was honey-coloured crepe, and clung to her rounded body, leaving a length of shapely leg bare. The neckline was high and cuffed, and had green embroidery on it to match the sleeve cuffs.

  Sara studied her fingernails, overwhelmingly conscious of the muscular length of his legs so near her own, and finally looked up to find his eyes closed, the luxuriant length of his lashes resting on his cheeks. She got silently to her feet, intending to go and bathe and tidy her hair, but his eyes opened as she passed his chair, and he said: 'Running away?'

  'No. Not at all. Will you excuse me? I want to bathe and change.'

  He shrugged. 'I guess so. I'll see you at dinner.'

  'You'll be in?' Her eyes widened.

  'Shouldn't I be?'

  'Will Miss Maxwell be coming?'

  'Not unless you've invited her prior to my coming,' he remarked lazily.

  'No, of course I haven't.' Sara chewed her lip.

  'Good. Put on a pretty dress, and after dinner I'll take you to a party!'

  'A party!' Sara's heart thumped.

  'Yes, a party. You know--where we all play games and win forfeits!'

  'That's not the kind of party you would attend,' she retorted hotly, 'and you know it!'

  'No.' He sat up smiling. 'I agree. It's not. But I promise you this party will be as innocuous as that. Right?'

  'I don't know. What about J.K.?'

  Jarrod got to his feet indolently. 'Sara, you're my

  ward, whether you like it or not, and if I say you're coming to a party, you'll come.'

  'Will I?' Sara's eyes flashed a little in her flushed face.

  His eyes narrowed. 'Well, won't you?'

  Sara shivered, then she turned and walked out of the room.

  She bathed in the luxurious warmth of the bathroom, filling the bath with scented water, and soaking herself thoroughly. She washed her hair, and dried it with the hair-drier that was also in her bathroom, aware of a rising sense of excitement when she thought of the evening ahead. It was ridiculous to get so disturbed about something like this, she thought, but she couldn't help herself.

  Afterwards, she studied the contents of her wardrobe with more interest than she had hitherto shown. All thoughts of Mrs. Mason and that dreadful interview this afternoon were temporarily banished, and she told herself that this was why she was feeling so grateful to Jarrod Kyle.

  At last she chose a dress made of rose-coloured chiffon. It had a low round neckline, and long sleeves, and the skirt which fell from a clip just below her breasts was full and floating. It was short and modern, and the style was not particularly girlish. There was nothing she could do with her hair, short of putting it up, and she didn't think she would suit that just yet, so she brushed it till it shone like silk, and fell smoothly to her shoulders. Finally she studied her reflection in the mirror of the wardrobe, pleased with what she saw.

  J.K. and Jarrod were both in the small lounge when she went downstairs, for she could hear their voices. They were discussing the business Jarrod had been working on in London, and Sara wished she did not have to make so obvious an entrance. However, J.K. glimpsed her hovering uncertainly in the hall, and came out to meet her.

  'Heavens, child, you look delightful!' he exclaimed in surprise. 'I've never seen you wearing that dress before. It's beautiful!'

  Sara smiled uncomfortably, and J.K. drew her into the lounge, where Jarrod, looking serious and enigmatic, awaited them. Tonight, in dark clothes, the fairness of his hair was pronounced, although his skin was so darkly tanned as to be almost swarthy. He handed Sara a tall glass of some pale liquid, which she handled nervously.

  'Don't be alarmed,' said J.K. 'It's only Dubonnet with lemonade. Quite a pleasant drink for a young girl like yourself, I should think.' Then he smiled. 'With those clothes, you ought to be going somewhere exciting!'

  Sara cast a puzzled look in Jarrod's direction, and he bowed his head sardonically. 'She is going somewhere, J.K.,' he remarked lazily. 'To a party.' He hesitated for a moment. 'With me!'

  J.K.'s brows drew together in a frown. 'What do you mean--you're taking her to a party?'

  'Exactly what I say,' replied Jarrod, swallowing half his own dry Martini. 'These are very good, J.K. Very dry I'

  'Never mind the drinks,' muttered J.K., looking frowningly at Sara. 'What do you mean by suggesting that you should take out this child? She's far too young to go to any of the places you go!'

  Jarrod was begining to look bored, Sara thought with a sinking stomach. 'I'm taking her to Howard Lawson's twenty-first birthday party,' he said resignedly. 'You may recall I promised to go several months ago.'

  'You promised to take Lauren to the Hunt Ball, but that didn't worry you!' snapped his father.

  'No, it didn't,' retorted Jarrod coldly. 'If you must know, I didn't want to take Lauren to the Hunt Ball.'

  'So you went to Monte Carlo with Tracy Merrick instead!'

  Sara moved uncomfortably. She hated these family quarrels.

  'Correction,' Jarrod was saying harshly, 'I went to Monte Carlo with Foster Merrick!'

  'And Tracy didn't go?'

&
nbsp; 'No.' Jarrod strode over to the tray of drinks, pouring himself another. 'What do you want to hear, J.K.? Do you want me to describe what I did that night so that Sara will have second thoughts about trusting herself to me, is that it?' He swallowed the drink at a gulp. 'Okay, okay, I went to Monte Carlo with Foster; we went to the Casino, and I gambled--all night! I didn't get drunk--and I didn't sleep with anybody, at least not that night!' He swung round abruptly, banging the glass down on the tray.

  Sara felt hot and cold in turns, and J.K. grunted something unintelligible, and said: 'So you're going to Howard's twenty-first, are you?'

  Jarrod swung round again. 'If Sara still wants to go!' He looked at Sara questioningly. 'Do you think it's safe, Sara?'

  Sara shrugged her slim shoulders. 'Are you quite sure you want to go?'

  He gave a mirthless laugh. 'What do you mean by that? That I couldn't possibly enjoy myself at something so tame as a twenty-first party?'

  'Sara didn't say that!' growled J.K.

  'No, but it was trembling on her tongue.' Jarrod sighed heavily. 'My God, J.K., do you imagine I'm taking Sara to this party to--well, because I'm interested in her now? Sexually, I mean!'

  J.K. shrugged. 'No, I guess not!'

  'Okay. Now that's th^ truth! I'm not! So let's hear no more about it! She's my ward, and I'm entitled to spend some time with her, aren't I?'

  'Of course.' J.K. was disgruntled. 'All right, Jarrod, I'll shut up. But remember, you'll be driving home!'

  'Oh lord!' Jarrod looked incredulous. 'I am fully capable, you know."

  'At the moment,' retorted his father.

  'At any time,' muttered Jarrod harshly, and strode out of the room. ,