Free Rafferty's Legacy by Jane Corrie Page A

in it. 'I thought you had company at home.'
    'So we have, darling,' the girl murmured throatily. 'I only popped in to ask if we might borrow a few mounts for our guests.'
    His reply was curt. 'Of course! Since when has it been necessary to ask?'
     
    With an offhand shrug the girl's eyes returned to Teresa, and rested on her hair. `No wonder you did something about it, darling,' she said, a little spitefully to Teresa's sensitive ears. 'I couldn't think why you looked so different.'
    Teresa felt a small spurt of surprise. The woman had obviously met her before, and was now commenting on her hair. Well, at least Teresa could understand the comment; she had noticed herself that she had used something to darken her hair. Whatever the reason had been, she had not bothered to shade it again, and she was now as nature had intended her to be, a redhead with a vengeance.
    At the time of her discovery Teresa had been a little amused at the silent quip, but now felt at a distinct disadvantage. The man and the girl knew more about her than she did, and she stood there feeling completely at a loss as to what to say, knowing that whatever she said would sound stupid.
    She was saved from this embarrassment by a very pointed look from Carl to the girl, who after giving another shrug, said hastily, 'Okay, I'm on my way,' and made for the door, gave a careless, 'See you,' when she reached it, and was gone.
    Now that she was alone with Carl Teresa found herself wishing she could have followed the girl out of the morn, and felt rather than saw the impatient look he gave her as he said abruptly, 'Sit down, Teresa. We've a lot to talk about.'
    Feeling apprehensive, she did as she was told: there was no point now in evading the issue, but how she wished it was all over with. Her unhappy eyes watched as Carl walked over to a cabinet and took out several bottles, then proceeded to mix some
     
    drinks and handed her a glass of some concoction.
    Teresa, accepting it, stared at it for a few minutes. He hadn't asked her what she would like, just got it for her.
    His eyes met her puzzled ones, and he smiled grimly. 'My memory still holds good, if yours doesn't,' he commented harshly. `And now,' he said, still in that grating voice as he seated himself opposite her, 'let's have the gloves off, shall we? This loss of memory act just isn't going to work. I told you I don't play games, and my patience is running out fast—so let's have the truth, shall we? You've heard the old man's story, so now you'll hear mine.'
    Teresa's wary eyes watched him settle back in his chair, noticing that he did not once take his eyes off her. 'Relax,' he said softly, `we've plenty of time. Dinner won't be served until seven-thirty.'
    She started. Why, that was in two hours' time! 'I can't possibly stay to dinner,' she said quickly. 'I've my uncle's meal to get.'
    For a frantic second it looked as if Carl would haul-her out of her chair and shake her hard; at least that was the impression she got, but then she saw his clenched fists relax as he took himself in hand, and straightened his fingers out along the arm of the chair. 'So he's made you his skivvy, has he?' he said quietly, yet there was an undercurrent of fury in his voice that warned her of his mood. 'He can get his own meal tonight. He's done it before, and he can do it again.'
    There was such an air of finality in this statement that in spite of her trepidation Teresa was angry. What an autocratic man he was ! She very much
     
    doubted if he had ever had to get his own meal. Oh, no, there would be an army of servants to wait on him. `I'm sorry,' she said with just as much determination in her voice as he had had in his, 'I'm afraid I won't be staying for a meal. For one thing,' she carried on firmly, not failing to note the glint in his eyes, 'my uncle doesn't know where I am—and for another, I don't see why he should get his own meal. He'll be tired when he comes in.'
    That did it! The next instant she found