Kelly folded her arms, needing to wipe away the feeling his hand had branded on her wrist, but not wanting to be conspicuous about it. She fixed Justin St John with a baleful glare and chose her words with bitter precision.
'The name Hanrahan apparently means nothing to you, Mr St John. You either don't know, or you don't care. But my grandfather and I are the so-called tenants that you wish to evict from our home. A home, I might add, that was built by my grandfather and his father almost seventy years ago. And which has been occupied continuously by our family ever since.'
She paused for that information to sink in, but there was not even a flicker of reaction on Justin St John's face. His expression might have been carved from granite. His gaze returned hers with the steadiness of a rock.
'It was presented to me that there were tenants on property that belonged to Marian Park. That they were freeloaders who were not paying any rent,' he stated flatly.
Blind fury overwhelmed her. She would have hit him if she had been a man. 'How dare you talk of my family like that?' Outrage almost choked her. 'Rent?' she spat out. 'Freeloaders?' she shrieked.
Her hands flew out in vehement dismissal of his argument, and the blazing green daggers of her eyes sliced viciously at Justin St John. 'My family has always paid its way! Always! Of course there wasn't any rent-Henry Lloyd would have scorned to take Grandpa's money. Henry Lloyd was a gentleman…'
'You are not making any sense,' he cut in impatiently.
'You want sense?' she shouted at him. 'I bet you had baked lamb for dinner last night. Or grilled lamb. Or lamb stew. Or something lamb!'
'Yes, but…' He sighed in resignation. 'What has that got to do with anything?'
'Where do you think it came from?' she yelled at him triumphantly.
'I have no idea.'
'From Grandpa! You eat his food. You don't mind taking our best fat lambs, do you? But then you break every agreement ever made. You threaten Grandpa with eviction. What are you trying to do? Kill him?'
He frowned. 'What is this agreement? What are you talking about?'
'The agreement between us and Marian Park, that's what! And you haven't heard of it because you wouldn't listen. But you'll listen now, by heaven! The agreement was never put on paper, but my great-grandfather and Henry Lloyd's father shook hands on it. That was all that was necessary. They were men. Men's men! Not like you!'
Her chin lifted with stormy pride. 'They fought side by side in the trenches of the Somme during the First World War. And helped each other survive the terrible conditions and hardships. They forged a friendship that crossed all barriers of wealth and class. And the word "gentleman" did mean something in those days!'
The vivid green eyes flashed her scorn at him. 'You might have the wealth to buy Marian Park. And you certainly have the arrogance to think you have class! But you'll never belong here. Not in a hundred years! You're not gentleman enough to clean Henry Lloyd's boots! You set yourself up as lord of the manor, and don't even bother to find out whom you're trampling over.'
'What was the gentleman's agreement you refer to?' he demanded to know. His voice was even, but there was now a glitter in his eyes that suggested she had struck a nerve.
Danger prickled down Kelly's spine as she remembered Uncle Tom's warning. Maybe she had gone too far. 'Our solicitor is dealing with that. The point is… that parcel of land belongs to Grandpa. He cleared it, fenced it, worked it and built it up. Everyone in Crooked Creek will attest to that. He might not have legal title to it at the moment, but don't think we'll stand by and let you take it away from us. We'll fight you every inch of the way.'
Justin St John moved. Kelly instinctively stepped back, then berated herself for cowardice. He might be strong and threatening, but she had right on her side and she wasn't going to budge until he had heard her out. She placed her hands on her hips in a belligerent pose.
He eased his legs over the edge of the table and sat up, grimacing at the pain it cost him to do so. There was a tired sickness in the eyes that swept up to hers again, but Kelly stubbornly ignored the stab of sympathy she felt.
'Miss Hanrahan…' His mouth took on an ironic twist. 'You're quite exceptionally beautiful when you're angry.'
She flushed with indignation. 'Don't think you can soft-soap me!'
'No. Perhaps not.' He gave a thin smile. 'You have the advantage over me. Could you bring yourself to oblige me with your first name?'
'Kelly. Kelly Hanrahan,' she answered proudly.
'Very Irish.'
Kelly instantly bridled at the comment. 'Yes!' she snapped, remembering his family history from the newspaper article. A St John had been a marine captain in the First Fleet in 1788. Eventually he had been granted land in the new colony. The St Johns of this world had always had it far too easy. It infuriated her further that this St John thought he could lord it over her.
'We came out here during the potato famine of 1848, when the English left us to starve in our millions. They don't have much of a record of treating the Irish fairly, do they?' she taunted.
'That was a long time ago.'
'You're still inflicting pain!'
He eyed her consideringly. 'It would seem my solicitor has been over-zealous in carrying out my orders,' he said with measured deliberation. 'I told him I didn't want tenants and to handle the legal problems involved, and to buy out all the leases. I did not realise, nor was I told, the circumstances pertaining to this matter. I'll order a report on the situation tomorrow. Does that satisfy you?'
'That you order a report?' Kelly whipped back at him scathingly. 'Of course I'm not satisfied! You're killing my grandfather, and you want to fob me off with a promise to look into it?' She looked at him with utter contempt. 'You wealthy people are totally unscrupulous!'
'Why should I trust your word?' he countered, his eyes hardening into steely cynicism. His gaze flicked down to her feet and up again with deliberate provocation. 'I'm too old to be easily taken in by a beautiful face and a delectable body. I know no more about you than what you've told me. Why should I believe you? What if you're just acting this out?'
'Oh! Oh…' Momentarily robbed of speech, Kelly stamped her foot. Then, absolutely steaming with outrage, she turned her back on him and stomped over to the window. She stared blindly out at the croquet lawn, tears of frustration burning her eyes.
She should have known it was no use speaking to him. Uncle Tom had told her.
'Kelly…' The unexpectedly soft intonation of her name sent a queer little shiver down her spine. 'If what you say is true, a little time for me to investigate is not unreasonable.'
She clenched her hands and whirled on him. 'If you were reasonable, you would have investigated in the first place, instead of…' To her intense mortification, tears rushed into her eyes. 'My grandfather doesn't have a lot of time!' she stormed over the lump in her throat. 'He's eighty-four years old and he doesn't have the… the will to keep going any more. That's what you've done to him with your damnable… damnable…'
She took a deep breath to steady her quivering lips, and smeared the tears away with a quick swipe of her hand, no longer caring what Justin St John thought of her. She was determined to speak out even if it was futile.
'It was terrible when Henry Lloyd died. He and Grandpa had been such close friends all their lives. They'd shared each other's joys and griefs all these years. And Henry Lloyd always wagered that Grandpa would die first, that he'd outlive him by a decade or two…'
Her voice hardened into bitter accusation. 'Then you come and take the heart out of him. What was left of it. One killing blow after another. The shock of having his home threatened on top of the grief of losing Henry. The stress of having to go to the solicitors. Henry Lloyd would turn in his grave if he knew. You're a no-good…' She was lost for words to describe him.
And he wasn't listening, anyway. He seemed to be staring straight through, her. There was a frozen look about his face, as if he had completely withdrawn to another time and place.
Hopelessness dampened the rebellious fire that had driven her so far. It had all been a waste of time and energy coming here. She forced herself to move back to the table which held her equipment. There was nothing she could do but pack up and go.
'What is your grandfather's name? His full name?'
'What does it matter?' she muttered resentfully, ignoring him as she put the oil and tissues back in her bag.
There was a slight rustle of cloth as he pushed himself off the table. A hand closed around her arm and swung her around to face him. The impact of him-so near, so threateningly male in his semi- nakedness-tripped her heart and caught the breath in her throat.
'Tell me!' he commanded, taking hold of her other arm in an imprisoning and punishing grip.
Her pulse leapt in wild agitation, but a surge of defiance forced her to meet his eyes in angry challenge. Yet something in their expression-a pained, haunted look-startled her into answering him.
'It's Michael. Michael O'Reilly.' Her voice came out husky, strange to her own ears.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He withdrew one hand from her to rub at his eyelids with finger and thumb. 'I'm sorry,' he said on a note of deep regret. 'I didn't think… it's so long ago…'
The last words were expelled on a ragged sigh, and Kelly didn't know what to make of them. Nor did she think to ask. The play of emotion on Justin St John's face held her mesmerised. She had judged him as unfeeling, yet she found herself caught up in the pain that emanated from him.
He dropped his hand to her shoulder as his eyes opened, and they were the washed grey of a bleak winter, shadowed by dark elements that instantly encompassed her and struck a quivering uncertainty in her heart. His fingers squeezed a light reassurance, but she didn't feel reassured. He was a stranger to her, yet somehow… they were not the hands of a stranger.
'I am sorry to have caused you both so much distress,' he said in obviously sincere apology. 'I was…preoccupied with other things and neglected to check on what was happening.' He grimaced, then took a deep breath. 'Tell your grandfather… assure him that I will not contest his ownership of the portion of Marian Park that he has always occupied. I will instruct my solicitor to give him legal title to it so that no question about possession will ever arise again. However; should either he or you ever wish to sell, I would like first option to buy.'
She stared at him blankly, not believing the words he had said, looking for the trick, looking for the lie.
His mouth tilted. 'Is that enough? What more can I do?'
'It's unbelievable,' she whispered, bewildered by his about-face. 'Do you know my grandfather?'
'No. Not personally. A long time ago I had a connection with the Lloyd family. What you said about the relationship between your two families stirred a recollection. And I'd forgotten that your grandfather's name is not necessarily your own. I apologise again… for doubting you.'
His expression changed to one of whimsical tenderness. A glow of warmth dispersed the shadows in his eyes, and the harsh lines of his face smoothed and took on a boyish charm. 'You obviously love him very dearly.'
Again Kelly found herself oddly breathless. A feeling of pleasure tingled through her veins and her heart was pumping with extraordinary vigour. 'Yes,' she said in that husky voice that didn't seem to belong to her. 'My parents died when I was two years old, and Grandpa brought me up.'
'I see,' he murmured.
The hand on her shoulder slid to the curve of her neck and slowly curled around it. His thumb brushed down her jawline in a tingling caress. Kelly swallowed to counteract a sudden dryness in her throat. It was madness-absolute madness to think what she was thinking: he was nearly twice her age-she had hated him only a few minutes ago- and whatever was throbbing between them couldn't be what she thought it was.
A sense of shifting… to a complete understanding. That was what it had to be. A relaxation from all the emotion spent. A new appreciation of each other.
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Her lips actually parted in anticipation.
Her heart thundered.
His head started to bend.
Madness, her mind screamed.
She closed her eyes tight and willed her mouth to speak. 'Please let me go.'
The words were hardly more than a whisper.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. The powerful link-whatever it was that had bound them together in those few electric seconds-was broken even before he withdrew his physical hold on her. She was aware of a sharp, bereft feeling in herself. Her eyes flicked open in the quest for understanding, but she caught only a fleeting glimpse of tearing conflict on his face before he turned away from her.
'I'll call Roy to come and carry your equipment out for you,' he said in curt dismissal, and walked stiffly to the table, where he picked up a telephone and punched a number on the house intercom.
Kelly suffered a rush of emotions that kept her tongue-tied as he spoke to his secretary. Embarrassment that she might have misread his intentions was uppermost. Her own reaction to him didn't bear thinking about. Shame squirmed through her. She had been so wrong about him. He was being more than fair with Grandpa. And she had said such dreadful things…
He replaced the telephone and threw her a tight, bleak look. 'He'll be right down. If you'll excuse me…'
'Wait!' she cried as he stepped towards the bathroom.
She sensed his reluctance, but he turned to face her. All the harsh lines were back-no boyish charm now. His expression was one of cold, tight reserve, and the tension emanating from him almost strangled her vocal cords.
'I'm sorry for having thought so badly of you,' she croaked.
'That's immaterial now, Miss Hanrahan. I will have the title papers delivered to your grandfather. Please don't come back here again.'
'But…' His hardline rejection of any more personal communication between them was shocking and surprisingly hurtful. 'You haven't let me thank you,' she finished limply.
'I don't need to be thanked for doing what should have been done in the first place.'
Still she struggled against his edict, driven by a tumult of feelings that she didn't stop to define. 'The physiotherapy…I could come back tomorrow and…'
'No! I don't want you here!' he said savagely, and the flicker of revulsion on his face left her with no argument. It was all too plain that he didn't want her anywhere near him.
And she knew then… knew that he had wanted to kiss her, and was appalled at himself for having felt such a desire. He would rather suffer pain than be confronted with such a desire again.
And hadn't she herself known it was madness? Even worse madness to wish it had happened! Where could it possibly lead…to get mixed up with him?
A knock on the bedroom door broke the tension between them. Roy Farley entered and Justin St John waved him towards the equipment. 'We're finished,' he said, then limped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him without a backward glance.
Roy Farley handed Kelly a cheque for her professional services. It felt wrong to take it, but she shrank from facing the questions her refusal would inevitably raise, and she had given Justin St John some treatment. Nevertheless, guilt added more entanglement to her confused emotions as she packed up to leave.
Roy Farley carried the interferential out to the car. Kelly thanked him distractedly and climbed in behind the wheel. It wasn't until she was driving away that she realised she had said nothing about the horses.