Witchstone

Jake nodded. ‘You like it here, then? You come from London, don’t you?’

‘Mark seems to have told you an awful lot about me, doesn’t he?’ parried Ashley, feeling not unreasonably impatient.

Jake smiled then, a lazy attractive smile that seemed to attack her in that vulnerable region below her ribcage in a curiously disturbing way. ‘Actually, he didn’t tell me that,’ he confessed charmingly. ‘David—your uncle, that is—told me you were coming to live with them before I left for Grüssmatte.’

‘Oh!’

Ashley dug her nails into the moquette upholstery of her chair arm, refusing to look at her cousin who she sensed was annoyed with her now. And as though to prove this point, Mark got to his feet just then and said: ‘As Ashley seems averse to talking about herself for once, shall we have a drink? Jake—your usual?’

Ashley looked up. ‘Your mother’s making coffee!’ she exclaimed.

‘So?’ Mark looked down at her penetratingly, and her eyes dropped before his. ‘Is there any law which says we can’t have both?’

Ashley didn’t bother to reply and Mark opened the lounge door. ‘Shan’t be a minute, Jake.’ He flicked his gaze to Ashley. ‘If you get into difficulties with this monster, just yell.’

After the door had closed behind him, Ashley felt worse than ever. At least when Mark had been present the onus had not been upon her as it was now. Forcing herself to meet Jake Seton’s somewhat amused gaze, she said: ‘Do you like skiing, Mr. Seton?’

‘Very much.’ He inclined his head.

Ashley sighed, looking down at her probing fingers again. ‘And is that all you do?’

‘Ski?’ Jake studied the glowing tip of his cheroot. ‘I wonder what you would say if I said yes.’

Ashley looked up defensively. ‘I shouldn’t say anything. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Jake’s eyes were narrowed now and she couldn’t read their expression. ‘But I detected a note of cynicism in your voice.’

Ashley was taken aback. ‘I think you’re mistaken.’

Jake shrugged. ‘Very well. If you choose not to pursue it.’

‘Pursue what?’

He drew deeply on this cheroot again. ‘You asked what else I did. In fact, I believe the question was—if I did anything else.’

Ashley moved uncomfortably, wishing she’d never started this. Changing the subject entirely, she said: ‘It’s very cold this evening, isn’t it? Although I don’t suppose you find it any colder than Austria——’

‘Come and sit by the fire, then. You said you weren’t cold earlier on,’ he remarked.

Ashley shook her head. ‘I—I meant outside.’

‘I see.’ He paused. ‘Tell me, do you know Grüssmatte?’

‘Grüssmatte?’ For a moment she was all at sea.

‘Yes, Grüssmatte. In Austria. You said you didn’t expect I would find this climate any colder than Austria. I wondered how you knew I’d been in Austria.’

Ashley flushed brilliantly. ‘Er—as a matter of fact, Uncle David told me.’

‘Did he indeed?’ Jake’s eyes were intent between the thick lashes. ‘And were you discussing me with your uncle?’

‘I—no—at least, not really.’ Ashley’s nails were almost penetrating the moquette as the pressure increased.

‘But you did listen when he spoke to you, didn’t you?’

Ashley decided the only way open to her was attack. ‘If you’re trying to tie me up in knots by proving that I was discussing you with Uncle David——’

Jake lay back in his chair, his expression mildly indulgent. ‘Now why would I do a thing like that?’ he mocked. ‘You seem perfectly capable of doing it for yourself.’

To Ashley’s relief, Mark chose that moment to re-enter the room. ‘Oh, good,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re talking to one another. I had visions of a pitched battle being waged in my absence.’

‘Don’t be silly, Mark!’ Ashley was curt. ‘What’s this?’

Mark was handing her a tall glass laced with ice cubes, and he grinned. ‘Taste it! I think you’ll like it. It’s just potent enough to give the lemonade a kick.’

Ashley sipped the liquid experimentally. It was delicious, but she couldn’t recognise the flavour.

‘I think it looks like Advocaat,’ remarked Jake, swallowing a mouthful of the amber liquid Mark had given him.

‘It is,’ agreed Mark, subsiding into his armchair again with a tall glass of lager. ‘A golden drink for a golden girl!’

‘Mark!’

Ashley felt more embarrassed than ever, but as her aunt arrived with the coffee she was saved the need of having to parry any further comments from either of them. Conversation became general and it was not noticeable that Ashley played very little part in it. She was content to sit in her chair and drink her coffee and remain silent, absorbed as she was with her own thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO (#u06908f92-507c-50f1-a7e7-17d763fd8b6d)

ASHLEY was almost asleep when Karen came noisily into the bedroom and switched on her bedside lamp.

‘Ashley?’ she hissed in a stage whisper. ‘Are you awake?’

Ashley sighed. She had thought that for once Karen would see that her eyes were closed and not disturb her, but she should have known better. Rolling on to her back, shading her eyes with her arm, she said: ‘Do you realise it’s almost half past eleven, Karen? I’m tired. What do you want?’

Karen gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, love. I really thought you were awake.’

‘I was,’ admitted Ashley. ‘What is it?’

‘I just wanted to talk to you,’ exclaimed Karen, beginning to get undressed. ‘Guess what? Frank’s got a new car!’

Ashley raised her eyes towards the bedroom ceiling. ‘Super! Is that all?’

‘Don’t you want to know what it is?’ Karen sounded disappointed.

Ashley gave a resigned gesture. ‘All right. What is it?’

‘It’s a Triumph Spitfire. A gorgeous little sports car, and can it move! We went for a run in it this evening, and it was thrilling—really thrilling!’

Ashley blinked. ‘Great. Have you just got back?’