Free House of Storms by Violet Winspear Page A

brother's book and I agree with Mr Coltan that you deserve a little fun—so long as he behaves himself!'
    'Well, of all the nerve!'
    'Rod, you damned well suit your name!'
    The two voices blended together in their annoyance with the tall and inflexible master of the house.
    'It's all right,' Debra started towards the stairs, 'I wouldn't dream of intruding.' And she ran up the staircase with the fleetness of a young hare, afraid that Rodare might come leaping after her, snapping those white teeth and commanding her to do as she was told. She hurried along the gallery, telling herself that Zandra was a snob and a jealous one, that Stuart was an inveterate girl-chaser, and Rodare a man who liked to impress his authority upon everyone.
    When she walked into the nursery her eyes were intensely green and her pulses were leaping with temper. Stuart Coltan was nothing but a nuisance, and she couldn't imagine what had made her think she was falling in love with Rodare Salvador. Lord help the woman who allowed herself to become his possession!
    'Hello, my dear.' Nanny Rose was giving Dean his evening bath, her stout figure enveloped in a towelling apron so the boy's splashing wouldn't penetrate to her uniform. He seemed to have a great love of water and bathtime gave him the opportunity to flood the floor and half-drown anyone who came near him.
    'Dibby,' he shouted when he caught sight of Debra. He flung a plastic boat at her in his enthusiasm and when water splashed all over her shoes she had to laugh, feeling a sense of release at being here in the bright and soapy atmosphere of the nursery.
    'You look all flushed up.' Nanny Rose handed her a towel so she could wipe her legs. 'Whatever's the matter—your hands are shaking?'
    Debra could feel the disturbing tremor not only in her hands but in her knees. 'I'm annoyed,' she admitted. 'I don't think I've ever met such a high-and-mighty devil as Rodare Salvador!'
    'I see, so that young man has put the green devils in your eyes, has he?' As Nanny Rose spoke she cocked a warning glance at Dean. 'Not again, my lovey, you play with your boaties in the bath.'
    Debra sat down in the rocking-chair and broke into a reluctant smile. 'He'd arouse the devil in a nunnery,' she said.
    'I daresay he would—going to have a cup of tea with me?' Nanny Rose switched on the kettle.
    'I'd love a cup of tea.' Debra spoke from the heart.
    'Nothing like it for settling the nerves.' Tea spoons clinked in saucers and from the direction of the bath came the joyous sound of splashing as Dean dive-bombed his boats in and out of the water. A contented child with a caring nanny who had no idea that his young mother was dead and his father perhaps at the other side of the world, licking his wounds.
    'I'm afraid, duckie,' Nanny Rose measured tea into the pot, 'that Mr Rodare is the sort who brings lightning in with him. Sometimes in the valleys you come across that sort of man—I was acquainted with one when I was just a slip of a girl. He sang like an angel in the local choir, but was always at the centre of any trouble at the pit. A big, dark-haired chap, with fire in his eyes. Every girl had her eye on him and yet at the same time he scared them silly. Then killed he was, when a gas explosion took place down in one of the tunnels. He could have saved himself, but according to one of the lads who did manage to get out, David bach stayed to try and help the trapped pit ponies and died with the poor scared creatures.'
    Nanny Rose opened a tin of biscuits and poured out the tea. 'I see something of his look in Mr Rodare. They are men who play on the imagination. They are men whose words and deeds always seem that bit more significant— so what's he been doing to upset you, my lass?'
    'He's been throwing his weight about.' Debra sipped her tea, which was always extra nice here in the nursery because Nanny Rose used good tasty Indian tea rather than the China tea which the Salvadors preferred.
    Debra described the