Free Past All Forgetting by Sara Craven

that evening, and her father was at the rear of the house, spraying his roses.
    She was numb with tension all the way to the house. He had been in London the previous week. What if he had decided to return there, and skip the party altogether? Or even worse, what if he had invited one of his sophisticated London girl-friends to be there with him? Janna squared her shoulders under the flimsy lace covering, and lifted her chin defiantly. Her mirror had told her that she didn't have to be afraid of competition from anyone that night. Sweet witch, he had called her mockingly. Well, tonight she would make it true. She would bewitch Rian so that he would never mock her again. He had admitted he was attracted to her. Tonight, he would find her irresistible.
    She found, when she entered the drawing room, that she knew most of the people there, and that the trouser suit which had seemed the ultimate in daring at home was not nearly so extreme compared with the models being worn by some of the girls. She was glad not to be too conspicuous. She did not want any tales to be carried back to her mother.
    She looked round, trying to be casual, searching for Rian among the laughing, chattering groups of people, but she could not see him, and for a moment she was bleakly afraid that all her worst forebodings had been realised. Then she heard someone call to him, and realised with a rush of relief that he was merely out on the terrace.
    She stepped out through the french doors, smiling shyly in reply to the people who greeted her. Rian was in the centre of a boisterous group. As Janna hesitated, he turned away laughing to put his empty glass on the terrace parapet beside him, and saw her. For a moment his eyes narrowed almost disbelievingly. The palms of her hands were clammy with sweat. If he laughed at her now, she thought hysterically, if he made even one joke, then she would kill herself.
    But there was not the faintest amusement in his dark face as he came swiftly to her side. His hand seemed to burn her flesh as he took her arm, drawing her aside, away from the other people to where a climbing rose spilled its perfume on to the grey flags.
    'Janna?' His voice held a question, a faint bewilderment, and she knew a feeling of triumph.
    'Rian.' She smiled up into his eyes, holding them with her own, and heard him draw a sharp breath. Then he smiled too, but without mockery.
    'I don't know what you've done to yourself,' he said quietly, 'but I want you to know you're very lovely. like a bud that has suddenly come to bloom.'
    She felt the colour steal up under her skin, and hated herself for her lack of poise.
    Rian put up his hand and brushed her warm cheek gently with his fingers.
    'And the blush makes it perfection,' he said. She thought for one heart-stopping minute that he was going to say something else, and then someone from the group he had left shouted to him, and he half-turned.
    'I must go,' he said abruptly. 'But I'll claim a dance with you later, if I may.'
    She held her delight severely in check, murmuring that she would look forward to it.
    From that moment on, she was never alone for a minute. The dancing began in the big hall soon after that, and she was never without a partner. At any other time she would have relished her triumph, knowing full well that other girls, older than herself and more expensively dressed, were watching from the sidelines, yet her success, all seemed meaningless, because Rian was not among the endless succession of young men vying to dance with her.
    She began to feel desperate again. The evening was half over and Rian had not come near her since that first moment. Where was he, and why hadn't he kept his promise to dance with her? No one else mattered. She'd had countless offers to take her home, to take her out to dinner, to take her driving, and she had kept them all laughingly at arms' length, because she was waiting for Rian.
    Supper was served around ten o'clock, but Janna could hardly eat a