'Yes.' He frowned. 'Your father's been extremely generous to his stepson, more so than to Tara or to you.'
'My father was rather old-fashioned. He held the view that boys need a good education and girls do not.' She risked a small smile at him and was relieved to see that he had stopped frowning.
'I owe you an apology.'
It was abruptly said, his face turning away from her so that she could read nothing in his eyes.
'I hadn't realised until today what a burden your father had put on you.'
Her heart leapt. Had Fanny told him about Oliver?'
His next words made it clear that she had not.
'Philip Patterson tells me that you're more or less wholly responsible for Oliver and Tara.'
'My father appointed me as their guardian along with Fanny,' Lucy agreed. 'I think he was worried that Fanny would not be able to cope alone-emotionally rather than financially.'
'So he burdened you with the responsibility for two young children plus your stepmother. Didn't either he or Fanny stop to think that you might want a life of your own? That you might marry … have your own children?'
'He did what he thought was best-for everyone,' Lucy told him quietly. 'Fanny … '
'Fanny is a clinging vine.'
He turned to look at her, and unbelievably he smiled.
The effect on her was dizzying … electrifying. She felt as though she were suspended in space … flying almost. She put down her sewing and stood up.
'Fanny told me this morning that she … that you possibly believe that I resent the fact that you have inherited the Manor.' She looked down at her own interlinked fingers, searching for the courage to go on. His smile had died and when she looked into his eyes they were not encouraging.
When he made no effort to help her she released her breath in a faintly helpless way and stumbled on. 'I want you to know that that isn't the case, Saul. I've always known that you would inherit and never resented it. In fact Neville probably … ' She broke off, biting her lip, not wanting to use her other cousin as an excuse for her own behaviour. 'I feel your inheritance is probably more of a burden to you than an asset.' She looked directly at him now, forcing herself to meet and hold the cold grey of his eyes.
'I see … and it's because you don't resent me that you've been studiously avoiding me ever since I arrived, is that it?'
His voice was quite calm, but so underlined with cynicism that she was engulfed by despair. This was not how she had anticipated tendering her apology and explanation.
'Even Oliver and Tara seemed to think I was some sort of intruder … and they didn't get that from Fanny.'
'No, they got it from my father.'
The words were out before she could stop herself, and she bit down on her lip once again, angry with herself for being betrayed into that admission.
'OK, so you don't resent me. Fine.'
For some reason he seemed angry, thin lines carving cynically from his nose to his mouth. He turned, and she knew instinctively that he was about to go. Despairingly she reached out and touched his arm, and then withdrew in shock as she felt the warmth of his skin and the hardness of his bone beneath the covering of his casual shirt.
He looked at her, still frowning, watching her. Tension made her mouth dry, her tongue circling her lips defensively, watched by the narrowed gaze of those grey eyes. He was waiting, but she knew he would not wait for ever.
'Saul I owe you an apology as well.' She took a deep breath trying to steady her jumpy nerves. He hadn't moved, but she was conscious of a difference in his stillness, a waiting quality that increased the tension already in the air.
'One that's over twelve years overdue,' she continued shakily. 'That summer when you came here I behaved appallingly, and I want you to know I've always regretted it. I hoped when you came this time we'd be able to make a fresh start … ' She risked a faint grimace. 'Even that you might have forgotten how unkind I was. I'm afraid that summer was something of a traumatic one for me. I'd just lost my mother … and in those days I was too green to see through Neville. Not that I'm trying to shift the blame to him. I knew the way he was behaving was wrong. But I had a mammoth crush on him then and … Well, suffice it to say, since then I've learned exactly what he is-and isn't-and I've always regretted how I behaved; not because I knew you would inherit the Manor, I'd have regretted my behaviour whoever it was directed towards, but knowing that you, too, had endured emotional and family problems that year made it much worse.'
'Why didn't you say any of this to me when I arrived?' His voice was low and completely without any expression.
'I wanted to although I must admit I hoped it wouldn't be necessary. That you'd want to forget the past as much as I did and have a fresh start. Then when I realised you hadn't forgotten-or forgiven-I thought that if you had time to get to know me first my apology might have more worth … more reality.'
For a moment it seemed to her that he was simply going to turn away and leave her without a word and the pain that exploded inside her was almost unendurable, far more intense than something caused by a mere blow to the pride.
He turned away, lashes veiling his eyes, and she wondered what was going on inside his head, if he was weighing her words and finding them wanting; and then he was turning back to her, his mouth curling in a faint smile as he said easily,
'It was a bad summer for me. I knew my folks were on the point of divorce, and to be sent away to England, not knowing what my future might be and not able to do a single thing about it, made me angry. I guess both of us were operating under the same handicap and having Neville around didn't make things any easier.'
'No.'
Unsaid was the knowledge that without Neville's interference they might have found a way through their mutual distrust of one another, but Lucy was not going to tell him about her realisation of what her maternal cousin was right now.
'So I'm forgiven?'
The words trembled from her lips, her voice soft and unfamiliarly hesitant.
Saul smiled and leaned towards her, curling strong fingers round her wrists.
'When you look at me like that how can I say no?'
She hadn't completely lost all hold on reality, retaining enough sanity to say drily, 'Very easily I imagine, when I remember what a little beast I was.'
'Mmm … you certainly made it plain that you didn't want me around.' He laughed then, his eyes warming. 'It dealt quite a blow to my adolescent male pride to be so obviously cold-shouldered-something which Neville thoroughly enjoyed, as I remember.'
He saw her expression and his mouth curled in amused mockery. 'What's wrong? Didn't it ever occur to you that a boy of sixteen is quite capable of being hurt by the so obvious rejection of a girl of twelve?'
'I was only just twelve and you were almost seventeen,' Lucy reminded him huskily.
'And almost seventeen was quite definitely old enough to realise and appreciate the charms of a girl soon to be a woman.' He looked at her and laughed again. 'Didn't you realise later when you looked back how much of our mutual antagonism could be put down to mutual attraction, even if emotional rather than physical?'
Had she? Was that why Saul aroused such a powerful reaction in her now? With a small shock she realised he had said 'mutual attraction'. Did that mean … ?
She looked at him and he said softly, 'Since we've now made our peace with one another we should perhaps seal it in the time honoured way.'
Almost as though he had known she would pull away from him and been prepared for it, his fingers tightened round her wrists refusing to let her go, and then with his eyes looking directly into hers he said lightly, 'Without the seal the peace treaty could be rendered null and void.'
And then he slowly uncurled his fingers from her wrists and let his hands hang free.
Without being aware of it she moved, swaying slightly towards him, taking that one step that would bring her close enough to his body to be aware of its strength and power. His eyes smiled into hers, teasingly, intoxicatingly, making her feel as giddy as an eighteen-year-old. And then his head bent towards her, his fingers sliding into the hair at her nape, gently angling her head so that her mouth was at exactly the right angle to meet his.
There was nothing forceful or demanding in the warm contact of his lips against her own; nothing at all in their almost fraternal pressure to make the world explode inside her in a blinding whirl of colours and sensations, but somehow it did.
As he kissed her she had automatically closed her eyes, but as he lifted his mouth from hers, the sensation of deprivation was so intense that her eyes flew open.