Read Online Man of the Trees by Hilary Preston - Free Book Online Page B

‘Or is that what you want?’
    Her grip on one of her brushes tightened, then she relaxed and grinned up at him mischievously from her stool.
    ‘Maybe.’
    She had the satisfaction of seeing his jaws tighten with anger.
    ‘As far as I’m concerned they can do as they like with you—the lot of them, but I will not have my work force distracted either by you or anyone else.’
    She laughed, feeling that, for once, she had the upper hand.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I know them all—or most of them. And they know me. They’re used to me.’
    ‘Very likely. I heard the shouts as I came along—which apparently greeted your arrival on the scene. I also heard some of the things they called out to you.’
    She shrugged. ‘Oh, that! They didn’t mean anything. And they’ll soon settle down, if your precious output is all you’re worried about. In five minutes from now, they’ll have forgotten I’m here.’
    ‘Oh yes?’ he queried in obvious disbelief.
    ‘Yes,’ she echoed firmly.
    Having set up her easel she began to sketch the scene before her, outlining the men at work—a group of men of all ages and in different stances, trimming and peeling the thinnings of Scots pines for pit props. Later they would be stacking them. This was going to be the first of many action paintings. Whether they would sell or not, Ruth thought, she must do them. In her preoccupation with her work and with the excitement of inspiration beginning to course through her veins, she almost forgot the intimidating Forester towering over her. Almost, but not quite. She knew he was angry. It was in the atmosphere all around, and she could almost feel his eyes boring through her head, and out of the corner of her eye she could see his long, lean legs.
    ‘Are you going to pack up those things and get out of here,’ he demanded, ‘or am I going to have to remove you forcibly?’
    She swung round to him impatiently, hovering between anger at being interrupted in her work, and amusement at the picture of his forcibly removing her.
    ‘That would give the men a treat—and something to talk about in the Club later—wouldn’t it? Because I can assure you, I won’t go quietly. I shall kick and scream—and how I can scream! The men might even be under the impression that you’re carrying me off to—well, you know—’
    She was highly exaggerating. Even if he did try to carry out his threat and she did kick and scream, they wouldn’t think what she was implying. It was all highly improbable. But she shrank inwardly from the expression of near-hatred in his eyes. Her moment of triumph at having the upper hand somehow evaporated.
    ‘Mr. Hamilton—’ she forced a pleading note into her voice now. ‘Please let me stay. It’s my profession, my living. See—’ she directed a look in the direction of the forestry workers, “the men have already forgotten me. They’re hard at it.’
    ‘That, no doubt, is because I’m here,’ he said. Then: ‘All right, as you plead your case so well, I’ll be lenient and allow you to stay.’ At this she hid a smile. ‘But I warn you,’ he went on pointing a stern finger at her, ‘I’ll be back when you’re least expecting me, and if I find you within yards of any of the men, still less chatting them up, you’ll be out of here before you can say “Jack Robinson”—and I shan’t care if they hear you screaming from here to the Isle of Wight.’
    He turned and strode over to Bill Rogers again, quite confident, no doubt, thought Ruth, that he had had the last word in the truest possible sense. She gave an amused smile. She couldn’t let him climb down too far. She had had to let him think he had won.
    Then she pulled herself up sharply. What on earth was she thinking of? She should have called his bluff and let him try to force her to leave the clearing. She was an idiot. If she wasn’t very careful she’d be falling for him. Far better to keep her anger going than start placating him. She would