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  After he had gone, J.K. looked anxiously at Sara. 'Do you really want to go with him, Sara?' he asked gently.

  Sara bent her head. 'Well--I did,' she said awkwardly.

  J.K. smote his fist into the palm of his other hand. 'Well, for God's sake, remember who he is, and how old he is! You're an impressionable child, and I don't want you to get hurt.'

  Sara sighed now. 'But you heard what he said-- he treats me like his kid sister, or even his daughter!'

  'I know, I know. Maybe I'm a suspicious old fool, but I know how attractive Jarrod is to women, and I also know that he's only human. If something was offered to him on a plate, he might not be able to refuse I'

  'Oh, J.K.!' Now Sara was horrified. 'I'm not like that! Besides, I've no intention of behaving like an idiot. But I am looking forward to going out. It will be a change.'

  'Have you been bored here?' asked J.K. anxiously.

  Sara smiled. 'No, of course not. It's not that. It's just the excitement of getting ready. Oh, you know how it is!'

  'Yes,' said J.K. thoughtfully, and Sara hoped he would not think she was ungrateful.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SARA was glad when dinner was over. She didn't eat much even though the Chicken Maryland was delicious, and fresh raspberries in February were a novelty. Jarrod hardly spoke, and when he did it was in answer to something J.K. asked. When the meal was finished, he rose immediately to his feet, and said: 'Well, Sara! Do you still want to come?'

  Sara rose too. 'Of course,' she said, looking at J.K. appealingly. 'You don't mind, do you, J.K.?'

  He shook his head, and patted her hand when she placed it on his shoulder. Sara left to get her coat. She decided to put on the Swedish lamb, as it was bitterly cold, and the fur was wonderfully warm. It was thigh-length, and practically covered all her dress. A greyish colour, it suited her creamy colouring, and she tucked her hair inside.

  Jarrod was waiting for her, the astrakhan coat loose over his lounge suit. He opened the front door, and ushered her outside, closing it behind him. The Ferrari waited at the foot of the steps, and a faint covering of snow warned of the unsettled state of the weather. When they were both in the car, and Jarrod was turning the ignition, Sara said, a trifle breathlessly: 'Is it far?'

  Jarrod compressed his lips for a moment. 'A couple of miles,' he replied shortly. 'Have you changed your mind again?'

  'No, of course not. I just wondered, that's all.'

  Jarrod shrugged, and the car was started smoothly, roaring its way down the drive with expert ease. He was a fast, but expert, driver, and Sara could relax with him even more than with Potter. Once out on to the road, he slowed and said: 'Ice!' by way of explanation. Sara wondered what they would do if it snowed really hard and the roads became blocked. She was wearing her boots and carrying some evening slippers, but even so, it was freezing outside the car, and apart from the coat her clothes were not what her grandfather would have thought suitable for a February night.

  The Lawsons' house was outside another village, Melston, and already the drive was lined with cars, and lights and music heralded the party that was in full swing. Jarrod saw her nervous face reflected in the lights from the house as he halted the car, and said: 'Don't worry, honey, you look good enough to eat. All the boys will make a beeline for you!'

  Inside, Jarrod was welcomed like a long-lost cousin, and Gina Lawson, Howard's sister, took Sara to the cloakroom. Gina was small and blonde, and about a year older than Sara.

  'I say,' she exclaimed, in a friendly way, 'you've found yourself the proverbial fairy godfather, haven't you? Lord, I'd adore to have Jarrod as my guardian!'

  Sara smiled, and made some light reply, and then they went out into the hall again to join the rest of the party. Sara was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Lawson, their teenage son, Hal, and Howard, of course. She was introduced to dozens of people in the course of the next half-hour, but most of the names went out of her head almost as soon as she heard them. The fact that she had come with Jarrod seemed to act as a charm, and no one was anything but delighted to meet her, or so they said. If she caught several of the girls eyeing her a trifle jealously she ignored them, for on the whole they were a friendly group. A buffet supper was served in a long conservatory at the back of the house, while a lounge which stretched from front to back had been cleared for dancing.

  After two tomato juices with Mr. and Mrs. Law-son, and Gina, Sara glanced round to see where Jarrod was. They were in the hall between the dancing lounge and the conservatory, and Gina, seeing that Sara was looking about said: 'Come on. We'll go and dance. Jarrod appears to have disappeared.'

  In the lounge several couples were dancing to music from a tape recorder, but Jarrod was not there. 'I think he considers himself too old for shindigs of this kind,' confided Gina, smilingly. 'That's why we invited Lauren. She'll look after him.'

  'Lauren Maxwell!' Sara sounded slightly shocked, and Gina nodded.

  'Yes. You'll know her, too, don't you?'

  'Yes, but--oh well.' Sara shut her mouth, and then Howard Lawson came up to them and asked her if she'd dance with him. Deciding she might as well, Sara nodded, and after that, to her surprise, the evening seemed to fly by. Howard had several friends who wanted to dance or talk to her, and she found she had to turn down some dates, even though they insisted they would phone her. Howard seemed the most possessive, and as the night wore on, she danced mainly with him, and sat with him between times.

  Then just before midnight, Jarrod appeared, accompanied by Lauren Maxwell. Tonight Lauren looked stunning in a lace trouser suit, slim pants that flared at the ankle, and a brief top that left her midriff bare.

  'Hello, darlings,' she exclaimed languidly, her gaze flickering appraisingly over Sara, and dismissing her. 'Have you had a good time?'

  Sara looked at Jarrod with candid green eyes. 'You've been a long time,' she said. 'I thought you'd gone home!'

  Lauren raised her narrow eyebrows. 'My, my, darling, have you acquired a keeper?'

  Jarrod's expression did not change, although his eyes narrowed slightly. 'No, Lauren, Sara merely wanted to let me know she'd noticed my absence!'

  Howard put his arm round Sara, almost protectively. 'I've looked after Sara, Jarrod, so it's as well you didn't worry!'

  Lauren chuckled. 'Oh well, that's all right then. I say, everybody, it's snowing like hell outside. You're all going to have a terrible drive home. Aren't I lucky, I'm staying the night.'

  There were exclamations and dashes to the window to view the white landscape outside, and Jarrod said: 'I think we'd better be going, Sara!'

  Howard's grip tightened. 'I'll take Sara home,' he said.

  'Don't be an idiot,' said Jarrod impatiently. 'It's a terrible night, as Lauren has just said. I brought Sara, and I'll take her home.'

  'Let Sara choose,' said Howard stiffly.

  Sara began to protest, when Jarrod caught her wrist, twisting it painfully. 'Get your coat,' he said coolly, daring her to defy him.

  Sara wrenched her wrist out of his grasp, intensely aware of the hard coolness of his fingers, and then with a faint apology to Howard she did as she was told.

  Goodbyes said to their host and hostess, Sara followed Jarrod down the slippery steps and across the snow covered forecourt to where the Ferrari was waiting. Without waiting for any assistance, she slid inside, and Jarrod brushed the snow off the windscreen, and cleaned the wipers before joining her. He did not speak as he started the vehicle, and Sara waved to Howard standing in the light at the top of the steps. Then they swept down the drive, and out on to the unswept roads outside Melston. It was a filthy night for driving, the snow driving heavily across the windscreen, obscuring most of the view.

  Sara sighed, thinking about the weather and the distance between Melston and Malthorpe in the Forest, but Jarrod said tautly:

  'What the hell did you mean by asking where I'd been?'

  Sara glanced his way, able to see his face in the white light from the banks of snow on either
side of them. 'Wasn't I entitled to ask? I thought you said you were taking me to a party? Some party you had!'

  'I warn you, Sara----' he muttered, swearing to

  himself as the car slid across the slippery surface of the road. 'What a blasted night!'

  'Well, you must have known what it was like,' remarked Sara dryly. 'Lauren knew the state of the weather. Where were you? In the summer-house, or just her room, as she's staying the night?'

  Jarrod ground the car to a halt, and Sara shrank back in her corner, away from the furious expression on his face. 'You bitch!' he muttered angrily. 'My God, J.K. has you well trained!'

  Sara shivered. 'I don't know what you mean.'

  'Yes, you do, damn you. If you must know, I've been in the Fox and Hounds in Melston, with Lauren. If you don't believe me, get J.K. to ring and enquire. She wanted a drink, and they were all kids at the house, so we walked into Melston, right?'

  'You don't have to explain yourself to me!' she said, pretending disinterest.

  'No, I don't. But I do not intend your nasty little mind to contemplate situations that just did not occur! Even I have some pride!'

  'Oh, let's just go home!' exclaimed Sara wearily, and Jarrod turned back to the business of driving.

  Unfortunately, the car refused to move. The wheels spun helplessly in the slush, and the more he revved the engine, the deeper they sunk. 'God almighty!' he muttered, and Sara felt an unwilling smile creeping to her lips. As though aware of her amusement, he glanced her way, and she put her hand over her mouth guiltily, but he just shook his head. 'We must be crazy,' he muttered, 'conducting a conversation in the middle of a snowstorm, miles from anywhere on a night like this. I'll have to get out and push. Can you drive it?'

  Sara hesitated. 'I'm not sure----' she began.

  'Hold on, I'll get out. You slide over, and I'll explain. Just don't take off with a rush, and throw me into the slush, will you?'

  'I'll try not to,' she said meekly, and he allowed a faint smile to play around his mouth. Then he climbed out, his shoes over their tops in the snow.

  But it was no good. The car was deeply embedded, and she couldn't get the gears right. 'Look,' he said, 'do you think you could do the pushing? Oh, I know that sounds rotten, but it only needs the right little push at the right moment, and we'd make it.'

  Sara burst out laughing. 'Honestly, what a Galahad you are!' she exclaimed. 'All right, all right. Let me get out.'

  So they reversed their positions, and Sara wedged herself against the rear bumper ready to push. Jarrod revved the car, she pushed with all her might, and the car shot away from beneath her, throwing her into the mud and slush and water.

  'Oh lord,' she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet, saturated now, and as Jarrod came running back, she said: 'Did you do that on purpose?' rather tearfully.

  Jarrod tried not to laugh. 'Oh God, Sara, I'm sorry! Of course I didn't do it on purpose! Come on, let's run to the car.'

  'I can't go home like this,' she wailed, 'I'm soaking!'

  Jarrod shook his head. 'Well, love, you'll have to. I haven't got anything else you can wear, and if you

  strip off you'll catch pneumonia. Here----' He

  stripped off his overcoat, pulling her wet fur off her and putting his warm astrakhan in its place. 'There, is that better?'

  'Hmn,' she said, sniffing, and with an exclamation he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the Ferrari.

  Then, driving as fast as he was able, nearly blinded by the snow, he finished the journey to Malthorpe Hall. J.K. himself was waiting in the hall, and stared in horror at Sara, shivering with cold and shock, wrapped in Jarrod's overcoat.

  Behind her Jarrod held up his hand. 'Look,' he said, 'before you start, Sara needs a hot bath, and a warm bed, and you'd better call Doctor Landry just in case.'

  'I don't need the doctor,' Sara exclaimed. 'I'm all right,' but her teeth chattered.

  'Come on,' said Jarrod impatiently. 'Did you hear what I said, J.K.? Oh, and bring some brandy, too, will you?' Then he swept her off her feet again and made for the stairs.

  After that everything got a little blurred. Mary, the upstairs maid, was roused from her bed, and it was she who ran Sara's bath, and helped her into it. Jarrod had deposited her in her bedroom, and left her, and although she saw J.K. several times, and Doctor Landry, she saw no more of Jarrod that night.

  In the morning, a cold grey winter's morning, she felt much worse, and when Mary brought her some breakfast on a tray at eight-thirty, Sara was breathing hoarsely, and coughing quite a lot. Despite the brandy and medication she had received the night before, she had caught a chill, and when J.K. arrived in answer to Mary's summons, he immediately recalled Doctor Landry.

  Sara couldn't have cared less who they called. She felt hot and cold in turns, and even the hot water bottles wedged on either side of her did little to ease the iciness of her feet and back. She sneezed, and coughed, and took medicines and tablets automatically, wishing she could go to sleep and wake up better.

  Once she saw Jarrod beside the bed, but he did not speak to her, and later in the day another man arrived, who examined her thoroughly, before putting her in the charge of a white-clad nurse.

  Sleeping and waking alternately, Sara was unaware that her condition almost deteriorated into pneumonia, and only the constant care she received saved her from that. She didn't do much talking, and ate nothing, even though Hester kept bringing trays of light food in the hope that the nurse could persuade her.

  Eventually her temperature subsided, and the fever was broken, and then Sara began to feel more like herself. On the morning of the fourth day after her chill, she really felt more normal, and the watery sun penetrating her curtains made her feel good to be alive.

  Nurse Macdonald smiled at her cheerfully when she came to see her patient. 'You're feeling much better, aren't you, Miss Robins?' she said, nodding. 'I must let Mr. Kyle know. He's been very worried about you. You gave us all a nasty turn, you know.'

  Sara managed a weak smile. 'Which Mr. Kyle do you mean?'

  'The older one, of course. He's your guardian, isn't he?'

  Sara was about to protest, but then decided it didn't really matter what the nurse thought, and she hadn't the strength to say a lot. She ate a little of the poached egg the nurse brought on a tray, and afterwards, when her face had been washed and her hair combed, Doctor Landry appeared. J.K. was with him, and he sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand.

  'Oh, Sara, you've no idea how good it is to see you looking so much better. Nurse tells us you spent a peaceful night, and the fever's gone. Do you know you've been verging on pneumonia for four days? It's been hell, believe me 1'

  'Has it been so long?' Sara looked surprised. 'I don't remember a lot, just feeling hot and uncomfortable, and having difficulty with my breathing.' She frowned. 'Where--where's Jarrod?'

  'He returned to London last night,' replied J.K. shortly. 'There was to be an emergency meeting of the board today. He had to attend.'

  'Oh. I thought I hadn't seen much of him,' Sara nodded.

  J.K. looked annoyed. 'Nor you have! The idiot! He could have killed you!'

  'Killed me?' she echoed. 'Oh no! It wasn't his fault. I was sitting--practically sitting anyway, on the back bumper when the car moved. I just fell in deep water and slush, that was all.'

  'Ridiculous! But that still doesn't explain why you had to stop in the first place--getting bedded down in the slush like that!'

  'J.K.----' began the doctor warningly, but Sara

  shook her head.

  'It's all right, Doctor, I can explain.'

  J.K. ground his teeth together. 'What's to explain? That son of mine will have been fooling around as usual, I suppose!'

  'Fooling around? With me?'

  J.K. clenched his fists. 'I could kill him!' he muttered.

  'Oh, don't be silly,' said Sara tiredly. 'He didn't touch me. He stopped to say something to me, that was all. Heavens, as I recall it, we were arguing,
as usual!'

  J.K. frowned. 'Is this the truth?'

  'Of course. Didn't Jarrod tell you?'

  'Almost the same story,' nodded J.K, snorting. 'I didn't believe him. He stayed here, against my better judgement, to assure himself that you were going to be okay, but I wouldn't let him near you!'

  'Oh, J.K., I've told you. Jarrod doesn't see me like that!' Sara sighed heavily. 'I wish you wouldn't jump to conclusions. It was all perfectly innocent!'

  J.K. had the grace to look a little ashamed, and Doctor Landry said: 'You should go and give him a call. Tell him Sara's on the mend properly now, and apologise for being a mean, suspicious old man!' he smiled.

  J.K. got up off the bed, patting Sara's hand. 'Do you think I should, Sara?'

  Sara gave him an exasperated look. 'Yes, I do. You're always jumping to conclusions, where he's concerned!'

  'I know, I know. But sometimes I've had cause. All right, Philip, I'll leave you with your patient!'

  After he had gone Philip Landry looked down at Sara smilingly. 'Poor old J.K.,' he said sympathetically. 'You see, he and Jarrod are too much alike. They always have been. And I'm afraid J.K. judges Jarrod's reactions by what his own might have been at the same age.'

  Sara allowed him to take her pulse. 'I don't think that's an entirely kind remark,' she murmured, with some amusement.

  Doctor Landry laughed. 'You know,' he said, 'nor do I. However, do you know something? It was Jarrod who called the specialist in from London, against his father's better judgement. J.K. didn't at first think that was going to be necessary. But afterwards he realised that Jarrod had been right all along. After all, I'm just a country G.P., whereas Stafford Lonsdale is wholly concerned with pulmonary and respiratory diseases.'

  'I see.'

  'Naturally, he knew the best drugs to use and was able to get them. That's why your recovery has been so swift.'

  Sara considered this. It was typical of Jarrod to want the best treatment available. He was impatient with incompetence. Even so, it was just another example of the way he arrogantly got what he wanted.

  Within two weeks Sara was completely recovered, although her cheeks were not so round and there was no colour in them. The weather persisted in remaining cold and damp, and when it wasn't snowing, a thick mist shrouded the moors behind them, sweeping down on to the house constantly. J.K. got quite worried about her, particularly as she seemed without vitality, browsing about the house, reading and listening to records, but showing none of the youthful exuberance she had hitherto displayed.