Out of Control

'Goodnight, Liza," he said, suddenly sitting down on the arm of the sofa, his hands linked behind his head as he yawned.

For a few seconds she didn't move, she just stood there dazedly, staring at him, and then she turned and hurtled out of the room and heard him laugh.

Goodnight," he called after her, but she didn't answer because she was too furious. Had he been having a peculiar kind of fun at her expense? He had been teasing her. had he? She didn't think it was so very funny. For a minute or two she had been really scared, disturbed.

anxious—if he had been making a heavy pass, what could she have done to stop him, all alone here, with no other dwelling within earshot? He was far too powerful for her to be able to deal with. Her heart was beating slowly, heavily, now, as though it beat in every far corner of her body, the pulse running strongly. When their faces were so close she could see every pore in hi

s skin, the line of the bones which built the structure of his face, the streaking of blue and grey in his irises and the mysterious, hypnotic glow of those shiny black pupils. If you looked into those eyes for long enough you would slide into a trance, Liza thought, then angrily shook herself. What on earth was the matter with her?

In her bedroom she stripped and put on her nightie and dressing-gown, but only when she had locked her door. She did not want him walking in on her. She washed in the little vanity unit in her bedroom, although normally she would have had a bath before bed; it relaxed her and made it easier to sleep.

She was about to go to bed when she heard the knocking. Tensing, she listened incredulously—who on earth could that be? She had had this cottage for years without having a single visitor, not even a tradesman, because she bought what she wanted from the local shops or brought it down from London with her in the car. She had no milk or bread delivered, and the heating was all electric.

Yet tonight she was apparently going to have two visitors! Or was it the police? she thought, moving towards her bedroom door at the idea. Had they seen the two crashed cars outside and come in to investigate?

She heard movements in the hall—Keir Zachary was going to open the door! Liza shot out on to the landing and hissed down the stairs. 'No, wait! I'll answer it! Go back into the sitting-room!'

He turned and looked up at her, his black brows rising. He was still in his shirt and the cord trousers; he hadn't undressed to sleep on the sofa, but Liza still didn't want whoever was at the door to see him until she knew who the caller was!

'Go back!' she insisted, coming down the stairs and trying to ignore the wandering speculation of his eyes. Luckily, her dressing-gown was long and covered her from neck to foot; a deep pansy-blue, it was hand-made in brushed wool, soft and warm on such cold, misty nights.

There was another loud knock and Keir Zachary sauntered back towards the sitting-room, shrugging. Liza opened the front door and a man almost fell into the hallway. He must have been leaning on the door. Liza looked blankly at him; she had never seen him before in her life, but he wasn't wearing police uniform, in fact his clothes were shabby and disreputable. One look and she had a strong suspicion that he was a tramp; he needed a shave, he smelt of drink and it wouldn't have hurt him to have a wash, either.

'What do you want?' she asked sharply, stepping into his path as he tried to move further into the house.

'Miss Thurston? Liza Thurston?' He gave her what he obviously believed to be a placating smile. 'I'm from the Argus, the local paper. I'm sure you know it . . .'

'A reporter?' Liza's tone betrayed disgust and he looked uneasily at her.

'Well, yes, but I don't just work on the Argus, I'm a stringer for several Fleet Street newspapers and one of

them just rang me up and asked me to get over here and talk to you."

'Well, I don't want to talk to you,' Liza informed him icily, holding the door open in a pointed way. 'Good­night.' With the door wide open, freezing air drifted in and she shivered, clutching the throat of her dressing-gown together. "Please hurry up and go—that fog is thicker, if anything. I can't imagine how on earth you got here in it!'

*I was at the Green Man,' he said, making no attempt to leave. 'I'm covering the fishing contest they're holding and I decided to stay the night.'

Have you got a room?' Liza's eyes widened as it occurred to her that he might let Keir Zachary share it. Then she started thinking a little more coolly and realised that at all costs he must not even know that Keir was in the house with her!

'Well, not exactly,' he said, grimacing. He was a short, bulky man with a round, balding head and a red neck. His sharp little eyes had already made a tour of the hallway and Liza and she was glad she hadn't been alone in the cottage when he arrived. He made her far more nervous than Keir Zachary had done.

'I'm Bob Tanner,' he told her. 'Call me Bob, Liza.'

'Call me Miss Thurston, Mr Tanner," she said with hauteur, but he just laughed, as though he thought she was being funny!

'Why did you ask if I had a room?' he asked eagerly, looking up the stairs. 'You haven't got one free, have you? The Green Man is full; packed up to the rafters, in fact. I've been told I can sleep in an armchair in the bar, but if you had a room I could use, I'd be glad to pay."

'I don't have any free rooms, I'm not a hotel,' Liza said impatiently. 'Look, Mr Tanner, will you please go? I am not talking to a newspaper. Tell them I said "no comment".'

'You here alone?' he asked in a tone which made her face stiffen, and she was so angry that she got hold of his arm and pushed him forcibly towards the door.

'Get out!'

'I just want to ask a few questions!' he said, resisting her efforts to evict him. He was short but he was heavy, and Liza could not budge him. Ts is true that the Gifford family have objections to Bruno marrying you? What are you and Bruno going to do if they refuse their consent? Are you going to marry in spite of them? Where is he, by the way? At Hartwell? Is he going to join you here?'

'I'm not telling you anything, so please go away!' Liza fumed, pushing as hard as she could without managing to shift him, and he leered down at her, catching one of her hands.

'Just give me a few quotes, and I'll go, I promise, Liza! And 1 don't blame Bruno, by the way—you're a real knock-out, aren't you? I go for blondes myself, always have.'