Crescendo

He smiled and his face held a warmth and charm which reached inside her and touched her heart. 'Then trust me now,' he said. 'No harm will ever conic to you and Grandie from me, I promise you.' Turning away, he said: 'I waited for you to come down, but I'm starving. What shall we have for breakfast?'

They had freshly squeezed orange juice and scrambled eggs. Gideon did the scrambling while Marina made the toast. They worked together com­patibly, smiling at each other now and then, and she felt his tall lithe figure had been a part of her life for years.

After breakfast she tidied the house, a piece of ribbon tying back her loose hair. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and Ruffy kept catching the turn-up of her jeans and worrying it between his teeth.

'He wants a walk,' she said.

Gideon came over to her and untied the ribbon, brushing out her hair over her shoulders. 'Then let's take him for one,' he said.

Ruffy tore ahead over the cliff paths, barking, his tail wagging furiously. The gulls wheeled over his head and below him the sea lay in a milky calm, sunlight dancing on the water.

When they had gone as far as Spanish Head they walked down through a copse heady with wild garlic, the thick strange scent of it unpleasant in such quantity. Old hornbeams twisted in weird shapes around them.

'Wheelwrights used to use them,' said Gideon, tapping a bough with one long finger. 'They found the shapes useful. That's probably why they're dying out—nobody needs them any more.'

Marina shivered. 'What a sad thought. Poor trees I'

He gave her a wry little smile. 'We all have to be needed.'

She looked away, her skin heating, remembering her dream when Gideon had said thickly, 'I need you.' Glancing at him through her lashes she saw a little gleam in the black eyes as he watched her. He could not imagine what she was thinking, but she coloured

even more, looking away.

As she walked faster, as though to evade those memories, her hair caught on a gnarled finger of hornbeam, its contortions reminiscent of Grandie's twisted hands. She yelped, her hand going to her hair.

'Stand still,' Gideon ordered.

Marina stood docilely while he released her, then he turned her towards him. The shadows of the trees flickered over his face. He held her shoulders gently, smiling.

, She was afraid to have him kiss her; she was ter­rified of what that kiss might reveal to him. Already her lips were burning in anticipation, the memory of those dream kisses swelling under her smooth skin.

She swung hurriedly to escape, and his hands tightened, turning her back to him.

She threw a look up at his face. His eyes were narrowed in a cool speculation, watching her in­tently. He bent his head and kissed her with de­manding intensity, his hands holding her close.

Marina felt an answering hunger. She kissed him back with an eagerness she could not hide and as he

lifted his head his face had a satisfaction which in­furiated her.

'Don't fight me, Marina,' he whispered, a smile curving his mouth. 'Relax.'

'You mustn't,' she muttered, pulling away.

'Why mustn't I?'

She threw a bewildered look at him. 'I've only known you for two days.'

'Two days, two years ... does it matter?'

'Of course it does!'

'Why?' he asked softly.

She sought for an answer and could not find one. Huskily, she said. 'I'm eighteen. How old are you?'

His face altered. 'Thirty-seven,' he said, and there was a hard ring to his voice. She saw she had touched on something to which he was sensitive. His eyes were restless now, a frown etched between them.

'Twice my age,' she said quietly.