Dragon's Lair by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page B

night in this room—two at the most
    depending on when Gethyn returned, and then she would be gone.
    It would probably be never necessary for him to know that she had
    slept in his room—in his bed. And she was being foolish to ascribe
    any ulterior motive to Mrs Parry. Gethyn's aunt had obviously been
    disconcerted by her arrival and had probably reacted without
    thinking. Besides, if there was no other room available, what choice
    did she have? It was either this, or some makeshift on a floor
    somewhere—possibly Rhiannon's room, and Davina shuddered at
    the prospect. She was being hysterical, she thought. She should be
    thankful for small mercies. At least she had a roof over her head for
    the night.
    But she still walked over to the bed and pulled back the
    counterpane. She relaxed perceptibly. The bed linen was crisp and
    fresh, clearly newly-changed. She knew, with an odd twist at the pit
    of her stomach, that it would have disturbed her to have to sleep in
    the same sheets as Gethyn had used, and she told herself
    defensively this was because he was now a stranger to her.
    But she knew, if she was honest, that that was not her real motive,
    and she turned away sharply, forcing herself to go back to the chair
    and sit down and pour herself a cup of tea. It wasn't her favourite
    drink, but she supposed wryly it might help to steady her jumping
    nerves.
    Her pulses seemed to be behaving most oddly altogether, and she
    made herself sit quietly, trying to regain her control of herself.
    Anyone would think, she told herself, that the door was suddenly
    going to swing open and Gethyn was going to be standing there—as
    he had been that night more than two years before.
    Davina put up her hands to her face as if she was trying to blot out
    the images that presented themselves relentlessly to her teeming
    mind. But it was no use. She was incapable of stemming the flood
    of memory that rushed to engulf her.
    The bed in the honeymoon suite had been a very different affair—a
    wide, low divan with fluffy lace-trimmed pillows and a magnificent
    gold satin bedspread. She had sat at the dressing table in the white
    chiffon of her wedding nightgown, brushing her hair with long
    nervous strokes. She could see the bed behind her in the mirror, and
    she was assailed by a terrible feeling of inadequacy.
    The dinner in the hotel restaurant had been a disaster. Gethyn had
    retired behind a mask of cool courtesy, and it was impossible for
    her to reach him, to try and explain the fears and apprehensions
    which were overwhelming her. In the end, resentment had begun to
    burn in her, and she had become equally silent. She shouldn't have
    to explain; he ought to know how she was feeling. But sympathy
    and understanding seemed to be the least of his emotions. When
    they left the restaurant, he told her abruptly he was going to the bar
    for a drink, and wished her goodnight.
    She came up to the suite alone, and looked round her desolately. It
    was air such a farce. The flowers were already beginning to wilt in
    the central heating, and the champagne remained unopened. She
    found some magazines on a table and sitting down on one of the
    sofas began to leaf through them, but the words and pictures danced
    meaninglessly in front of her eyes, and at last she threw them down
    with an exclamation of disgust. She glanced at her watch and saw
    that Gethyn had been gone for over an hour. Her temper rose. Well,
    he would not come back and find her sitting here meekly waiting
    for him! '
    She banged into the bedroom and closed the door. If it had had a
    key or a bolt, she would have used them. She undressed and
    showered in the luxuriously appointed bathroom, then put on her
    nightgown and the negligee which matched it and went slowly back
    in the bedroom.
    She was feeling totally unnerved by the apparent volte-face her
    emotions had suffered, and all because of a few bitter words from
    her mother. Was it—could it be because deep in her heart she