Read Online Dragon's Lair by Sara Craven - Free Book Online

re-opening old wounds which she had
    wrongly presumed were healed. It was disquieting to discover how
    vulnerable she still was. The past two years of solitariness had
    simply spread a thin veneer of acceptance over raw and tangled
    emotions.
    She got up restlessly and thrust open the window, staring up at the
    looming bulk of the mountain. Every scrap of reason she possessed
    was warning her to get away from this place—that now was not the
    time for her confrontation with Gethyn. She could leave the papers
    that Uncle Philip had sent and depart first thing in the morning, she
    told herself. She would abandon the idea of any kind of personal
    appeal to Gethyn, and leave all future negotiations in the hands of
    her solicitor. That was the most sensible course to follow and it
    always had been.
    She went along to the chilly old-fashioned bathroom with its black
    and white checked lino and washed the signs of tension and distress
    from her face before venturing downstairs. There was an
    increasingly savoury smell coming from the back of the house, and
    she traced it down a flagged passage to a tall white door at the end.
    She tapped on the door rather hesitantly and peeped round it, to
    find that her instinct had been quite correct and that she was in the
    kitchen.
    It was a large comfortable room, dominated by the big scrubbed
    wooden table in the centre, and the Aga range which filled an entire
    wall. Beyond the kitchen was a small scullery, and from this an
    open door led to the sunlit yard. As Davina looked around her, Mrs
    Parry came bustling in from the yard carrying a flat wicker basket
    of vegetables.
    Her smile when she saw Davina was welcoming, but a little
    surprised too.
    'So you're down. Supper won't be ready for an hour or so yet, I'm
    afraid.'
    Davina shook her head. 'I wasn't looking for a meal,' she answered.
    She pointed to the basket of vegetables. 'Can I help with those?'
    Mrs Parry looked doubtful. 'Well, it hardly seems right. Wouldn't
    you rather go in the sitting room? There's a wireless in there, and a
    few books, though we haven't a television. The reception isn't good
    enough and ...'
    'Oh, please,' Davina broke in impulsively. 'You'll make me feel I'm
    being banished and'—she attempted a smile— 'you did say I was
    part of the family. Do let me help.'
    'Well,' Mrs Parry capitulated, 'as long as you let me give you an
    apron to cover your dress. You could slice these beans for me.
    Rhiannon usually does them, but she's gone up to the farm to fetch
    me some eggs.'
    'I see.' Davina was conscious of a feeling of relief as she sat down
    at the kitchen table and reached for the colander and the knife. She
    sniffed appreciatively. 'Something smells good.'
    Mrs Parry smiled. 'Roast Iamb,' she said. 'We don't go in for fancy
    dishes—just good plain food. That's what people want when they've
    been out in the air all day, and we've got quite a houseful at the
    moment.'
    'Are they all trekking at the moment?' Davina asked, but her hostess
    shook her head.
    'It's a rest day for the horses,' she explained. 'I think one family
    were going to Dolgellau for the day, and the others have gone up
    the mountain to the waterfall for a picnic. It's a good place in
    weather like this. There's a pool where you can bathe, and even a
    little beach. You'll have to ask Gethyn to take you there when he
    comes back.'
    The knife slipped and Davina came perilously near to adding a slice
    of her finger to the colander of beans. Now was the time to tell Mrs
    Parry that she was not going to wait for Gethyn's return after all.
    There was no need for any detailed explanation, yet somehow she
    could not find the words, and Mrs Parry was chatting cheerfully on
    about local beauty spots, and the moment had gone. When the
    beans were done, there was a mound of young carrots to scrape and
    chop, and when these had been dealt with, she relaxed at the table
    and watched Mrs Parry pipe whorls of whipped cream around the
    edges of several