Midnight Never Comes - Jack Higgins [37]
She rolled on to her back and stared up into the sky, her face troubled. 'He's over-protective, that's all. Sometimes I think that perhaps I resemble my mother too much for his comfort.'
Chavasse reached out and took her hand gently. 'Are you afraid of him?'
It was a long moment before she replied. 'Yes, I think I am, which is strange, because just as surely, I know he could never hurt me.'
She drew a deep breath and scrambled to her feet. 'But this is nonsense. I came out for the deer-stalking, not psycho-analysis.'
A cry drifted down to them on the warm air and they looked up to see Colonel Craig and George Gunn above them on the shoulder.
'This way, you two,' the old man cried.
She turned to face Chavasse, her face calm and yet there was something very close to an appeal in her eyes and he took her hands in his.
'I would never willingly see you hurt, Asta. Do you believe that?'
Something seemed to go out of her in a long sigh and she leaned against him. 'Oh, I needed to hear that, Paul. You'll never know how much.'
He kissed her gently on the mouth and when they went up the hill, they walked hand in hand.
9
Nightfall
Beyond the French windows, the beech trees above the river were cut out of black cardboard against a sky that was streaked a vivid orange above the mountains. Inside, it was warm and comfortable and Asta in a silk dress of apple green, playing the grand piano softly, was somehow a part of the stillness of the evening just before nightfall.
It was a comfortable room, panelled in oak three centuries old and Donner had had the sense to furnish it in character. The soft light came from a tall standard lamp and a log fire crackled on the wide stone hearth.
Donner, Colonel Craig and Jack Murdoch were in evening wear, but Chavasse wore a beautifully tailored suit of dark worsted that somehow gave him an elegance lacking in the others.
The door opened and Stavrou entered with more coffee. He placed it on the table and Ruth Murray said, 'I'll see to that, Stavrou. You can go.'
He departed as silently as he had come and she got to her feet and moved forward, an attractive figure in a deceptively simple black dress.
'Can I offer you some more coffee, Colonel Craig?' she said.
The old man held up a hand. 'No thanks, my dear, not for me.'
'Another brandy, then?' Donner said.
'Hard to say no. It's the best I've tasted in a long, long time, Mr. Donner.'
'Plenty more where that came from,' Donner said and nodded to Murdoch who got up obediently and reached for the decanter.
Colonel Craig held out his glass. 'And the dinner--remarkable, that's the only word for it. No local cook, I'll be bound.'
Donner chuckled, obviously pleased. 'I should say not. My man Stavrou handles that department. He's Greek and when they're good, they're really good.'
And the dinner had been good, Chavasse had to give him that and leaning on the piano, listening to Asta play, he watched the group by the fire casually.
In any group of people anywhere, large or small, Max Donner would have stood out and Murdoch lounging in the corner, idly fondling the ears of the Doberman sprawled beside his chair, wore his evening clothes with the sort of careless ease to be expected from a man of his background and breeding.
He sipped his drink slowly, staring across the rim of his glass at Ruth Murray who sat beside Colonel Craig on the settee. He wants her, Chavasse thought, but he's too scared of Donner to make any kind of approach.
Ruth Murray held out her glass for the fourth time and Murdoch picked up the decanter and filled it for her. Donner moved forward and in a casual gesture that would have been missed by most people, plucked the glass from her hand.
'You don't look much like a bridge man to me, Colonel,' he said. 'How about a game of billiards? Jack and I play most nights.'
'All right, by me,' the old man said, getting to his feet. 'What about you, Paul?'
Chavasse grinned. 'I'm fine where I am. I don't know where you