An Introduction to the Pink Collection by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online

room. She had left the door open, so that although the passage was dark she could see her destination by the glow of moonlight.
    But as she took the final step through the doorway a mountain seemed to descend on her. Clara escaped and flew upwards, squawking horribly.
    After the first moment’s blind panic Rena fought back fiercely, kicking out with her feet and thrashing her arms. She even managed to launch some sort of blow, if the grunt from her assailant was anything to go by.
    Then they were on the floor together, rolling over and over in the darkness, each trying to get a firm grip on the other, gasping, thumping, flailing, until at last her head banged against the floor and she let out a yell.
    â€œWhat the devil – ?” said a voice that she recognised.
    The fight had taken them into a patch of moonlight near the window. Rena found she was lying on her back with a hard, masculine body on top of her, and the Earl’s face staring down at her with shock.
    â€œM-Miss Colwell?”
    At that moment Clara landed on his head.
    â€œMiss Colwell?” he said again, aghast. “It’s you.”
    â€œCertainly it’s me. Kindly rise, sir.”
    â€œOf course, of course.” He hastily sprang to his feet and reached down to help her up.
    â€œDo you normally attack people who enter your home?” she demanded. She was breathless from the fight, and from strange sensations that were coursing around her body.
    â€œOnly the ones who come by night and don’t ring the doorbell,” he said promptly. “To be honest, I thought you were the ghost.”
    â€œReally!”
    â€œTruly, I did. I heard a noise from down here and came to investigate. Then I heard ghostly footsteps coming along the passage, and then some creature came through the door, holding something under her arm. So naturally I thought you were carrying your head.”
    â€œI beg your pardon!”
    â€œYou were carrying something under your arm, so I thought it was your head. Headless Lady, you know.”
    â€œIt was not my head,” Rena said with awful dignity. “It was a chicken.”
    â€œA chicken? Yes – well, I quite see that that explains everything.”
    Her lips twitched. “You are absurd,” she said.
    â€œI beg your pardon, madam! You glide about the house at midnight, carrying a chicken under your arm, and I am absurd?”
    â€œI can explain the chicken.”
    â€œPlease don’t,” he begged, beginning to laugh. “I think I’d prefer it to remain a mystery.”
    â€œWhatever Your Lordship pleases,” she said, beginning to dust herself down.
    â€œDon’t you think, after this, that you might bring yourself to call me John?”
    â€œYes, I do. And I’m Rena. And the chicken is Clara. She lays excellent eggs, as you will find.”
    â€œI’m moved by this concern for my appetite, but I assure you tomorrow would have been soon enough.”
    â€œYes, but I – oh heavens!” she said, as the evening’s events came back to her.
    â€œMy dear girl, whatever has happened? I can’t see your face properly, but I can tell you’re very depressed. No, don’t answer now. Let us go into the kitchen and have some tea, and you can tell me all about it.”
    His kindly concern was balm to her soul. In the kitchen she relit the lamp and he made her sit down on the old oak settle by the stove while he boiled the kettle. She told him the whole story of her arrival at the vicarage, her discovery of the family, and her battle with them.
    â€œI behaved terribly,” she said, shocked at herself.
    â€œIt sounds to me as though you behaved very sensibly,” he said, handing her a cup of tea, and sitting down beside her. “They may not be a den of thieves exactly, but they’re certainly a nest of bullies. And the only thing to do with bullies is stand up to them.”
    â€œWell, that’s what I