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gentle compassion left his eyes, to be replaced by a fierce hungry longing such as Rachel had never seen before. For one wild moment she thought he was going to kiss her and she held her breath, her senses reeling. But he released her and turned away, saying abruptly, ‘Right, then, we’ll be on our way,*
    He drove back to Glencarrick at break neck speed, hardly speaking a word, his jaw set like granite. It was as if he was ashamed of his flash of tenderness towards her, annoyed that he had allowed her to penetrate his armour of hardness.
    As for Rachel, she had glimpsed the man behind the armour, and seen the hunger in his eyes. If she had fancied herself in love with Richard Duncan before she was now utterly and completely under his spell. She knew it could bring her nothing but heartache.
    He pulled up outside the cottage.
    ‘Go to bed now,’ he commanded, ‘and sleep for as long as you can. I’ll see you’re not disturbed.’
    ‘What about Melanie and—everything?’ Rachel was so exhausted she hardly knew what she was saying. ‘She’s not your problem. Just go to bed and sleep.'
    ‘All right. Thank you.’ She got out of the car, noticing that Richard looked as exhausted as she felt, but she made no comment. He was not her problem, either, as he would be only too quick to tell her.
    She let herself into the cottage and went upstairs to bed.
    She slept until three in the afternoon, then she got up and had a leisurely bath, after first phoning the cottage hospital.
    ‘Your aunt is as comfortable as can be expected,' a Scottish voice told her. ‘But I’m afraid it’s a broken pelvis she has. She’ll need to stay here and have complete bed rest for some time.’
    Some time. What did that mean? Rachel asked herself as she relaxed in a warm perfumed bath. Days? Weeks? Months? And what about her, Rachel? Should she stay on at Kilfinan Cottage or would she simply be in the way? She had been in Scotland less than a month, but was it time she went back home and picked up the threads of her former life?
    She climbed out of the bath and towelled herself dry; common sense dictated that that was the best course. A vision of Richard Duncan rose before her. Best to get out before it was too late. To stay on at Glencarrick was only to invite heartbreak.
    She went downstairs and scrambled herself some eggs, and she was just washing up after this when there was a knock at the door.
    It was Richard. He looked tired and faintly irritable. ‘May I come in and talk to you?’ he asked, running his fingers through his hair in what, in anyone else, would have seemed a nervous gesture. 'I know I said I’d see you weren’t disturbed, but ... have you had a good sleep?’
    ‘Oh, yes,' she laughed ruefully, ‘I didn’t wake till three this afternoon. How about you?’
    ‘I had a couple of hours.’ He yawned. ‘It’s catching up on me now, though.’
    ‘Would you like some coffee?’ She led the way through to the cosy living room.
    ‘That would be very nice.’ He sat down in what was usually Rose’s chair, staring into the fire, while Rachel made coffee and searched for some of Rose’s shortbread. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked anxiously as she put the tray down on a stool between them and poured the coffee.
    'No. Well, yes. He shifted in his chair. ‘I’ve been talking to my father ....’
    ‘About my aunt?’
    He nodded. ‘Yes. He’s been in touch with Archie Murdoch and it looks as if Rose will be in hospital for weeks, months probably.’
    Rachel sipped her coffee slowly. ‘Melanie will miss her.’
    ‘We shall all miss Rose, but Melanie more than anyone. I’m afraid .....’ he sighed. ‘I just don’t know what to do about her.’ He banged his cup down. ‘What’s the matter with the child? Why can’t she be like other children? I’ve done everything I can think of. This speech therapy business is obviously a waste of time....’ He put his head in his hands. ‘The answer, of course, is to send