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his body, lean and hard against hers, his arm circling her waist and his hand in hers. Nothing else was real, nothing else mattered. When the dance was over lie seemed to hold her to him for a brief second—or was it just her imagination?—before he looked down at her and asked, ‘You’ve time for a drink with me before I hand you back to David? He seems very determined not to let you out of his sight for long.’
    ‘Thank you, a long, cool drink would be nice.’ She hoped he would put her breathlessness down to the exertion of dancing and not guess its real cause.
    He put his hand lightly under her elbow and guided her across to the bar, and although his fingers were cool his touch seemed to burn into her flesh.
    She sipped the drink he brought to her gratefully and by the time David and Moira joined them a moment or two later had managed to regain a little of her composure.
    The rest of the evening passed in a daze for Rachel. David was attentive and she managed to flirt mildly with him; yet always she was conscious of Richard. He didn’t ask her to dance again and she couldn’t help noticing the possessive way Moira clung to him. 'A very determined woman, my sister, she knows what she wants and she usually gets it!’ David’s words kept hammering through her brain. Yet she could see nothing in Richard’s attitude to Moira that was anything other than polite and friendly; it was quite plain that he was still too much in love with his dead wife to think of remarriage. But when he did Moira would be there, waiting.
    Suddenly Rachel hated Moira McLeod.
    After the Ball the four of them went back to the McLeod farm for coffee and then Richard drove Rachel back to her aunt’s house.
    ‘I hope you had a pleasant evening,’ he said as he pulled up outside the cottage. ‘You seemed rather pre- occupied at times, I thought.’
    Rachel caught her breath. Richard was too observant by far. She managed a light laugh. ‘I had a lovely evening, thank you. How could I help enjoying myself, in such pleasant company?’
    ‘Good. I must say you appeared to get on very well with David McLeod.’
    ‘He’s ... charming.’
    ‘He can be, when he likes.’ Richard got out of the car abruptly and came round to her side to open the door for her. She stepped out and as she did so she caught her foot in the hem of her dress and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her in his arms. She leaned against him, struggling to regain both her balance and her composure.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I caught my foot.:..'
    For a brief moment she was held against him in a vice-like grip, then, suddenly, he released her. ‘You've forgotten your wrap,’ he said coolly, reaching beyond her into the car for her evening shawl.
    ‘Thank you.’ She took it from him and hurried into the cottage without a backward glance. One thing was certain, Richard Duncan must never know the shattering effect he had on her. That would be just too humiliating.
    The lights were still ablaze as she let herself into the cottage. It was nice of Aunt Rose to wait up, but Rachel would have preferred to go straight to her room. She went slowly to the living room, trying to collect her thoughts as she went. Aunt Rose would be eager to hear about the evening, but all Rachel could remember was dancing with Richard and the feel of his arms around her. She pushed open the door.
    ‘Hullo, Auntie ....’ her voice trailed off. ‘Auntie, what’s happened?’
    Rose was lying on the floor, a chair with one leg smashed off beside her, her face grey with pain. Rachel went and knelt beside her.
    ‘I think it’s my back,’ Rose s voice was barely above a whisper, ‘... curtain stuck ... got up to free it ... chair broke ... lying here hours....’ She tried a twisted smile. ‘Sorry, my girl ... spoiled your evening.’ She closed her eyes, exhausted from the effort of speaking.
    Rachel damped a sponge and gently wiped her aunt’s face. ‘I mustn’t try to