Edge Of Temptation. Anne Mather

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      Catherine shook her head helplessly. ‘Do you realise what time it is?’ she exclaimed, unable to think of anything else to say at that moment, and the boy nodded, apparently unconcerned.

      ‘It’s late, I know,’ he answered. ‘I missed the last bus from Pendower, so I had to walk, you see. Then I twisted my knee and—–’

      ‘But where are you walking to?’ demanded Robert, but as if freezing before the unmistakable exasperation in his voice, the boy made no response, merely shifting his weight from one leg to the other and offering a mutinous expression.

      ‘We can’t leave him here, you know,’ Robert added, close to Catherine’s ear. ‘Wherever he’s going, he could die of exposure before he gets there. It’s so damn cold!’

      Realising she had to make the next move, Catherine gestured towards the car. ‘Can we give you a lift?’ she suggested, wondering how a boy of no more than ten years of age could be wandering these roads at this time of night. Who was he? Where had he come from? ‘It’s much warmer inside.’

      ‘I’m not allowed to accept lifts from strangers,’ the boy replied then, hunching one shoulder, but Robert stretched out a hand and caught his arm.

      ‘Well, we can’t leave you here, old man,’ he declared, urging him towards the Renault. ‘Come on. We can talk just as well inside.’

      ‘No, no! Let go of me!’ The boy fought like a little fury then. ‘I shall tell my father about this. He’ll be furious, I can tell you. He owns this valley—–’

      ‘What!’ Catherine detained Robert’s enforced abduction, grasping the boy’s shoulder and turning him so that she could see his face. Her heart lurched as Rafe Glyndower’s dark features were exposed to her stare; smaller, younger, perhaps a little fairer, but definitely related. ‘You mean—you’re Thomas?’

      ‘That’s right.’ He fought back a sob. ‘And you have no right to keep me here!’

      Catherine gathered herself with difficulty. ‘Does your father know where you are?’ she demanded, knowing the answer before she voiced the question. If Glyndower’s son had been discovered missing, the whole valley would have heard about it by now. ‘You know he doesn’t. You’re supposed to be away at school, aren’t you? What’s happened? Have you run away?’

      ‘Yes—no. That is—it’s nothing to do with you!’

      Shades of Lucy Glyndower, thought Catherine dryly. Then: ‘And do you think you’ll be welcome, at this time of night? I’d hazard a guess that your father will be less than pleased to see you.’

      ‘Catherine, we can’t stand here arguing the toss,’ Robert exclaimed shortly, showing uncharacteristic signs of irritation, and although she deplored his impatience, she appreciated his point.

      ‘I wasn’t going home,’ Thomas was saying now, shocking her still further. ‘There’s a shepherd’s hut not far from here. I was going to spend the night there and go home in the morning, only … only …’

      ‘Only what?’

      ‘Only—it’s jolly dark, isn’t it? I’m not afraid of ghosts, of course,’ he added, holding up his head, ‘but I might not find it in the dark, might I?’

      Catherine felt an overwhelming surge of sympathy for him. ‘You have run away, then? From school?’

      The boy nodded, looking down at his toes, and over his bent head Catherine exchanged an appealing look with Robert. Thomas was only wearing a blazer over his uniform grey shirt and trousers, and Robert hadn’t been far wrong when he considered the possible effects of exposure. The boy was shivering already, and a night spent in a shepherd’s hut …

      Without hesitating, Catherine came to a decision. ‘Look,’ she said, squatting down beside him, ‘you know you can’t sleep in an old hut at this time of year. That might have been all right in the summer, when the nights were warm, but now it’s cold, very cold, and you could freeze to death.’

      Thomas sniffed. ‘You’re going to take me home?’

      ‘Is that what you want?’

      ‘Oh, honestly, Catherine—–’

      Overriding Robert’s exasperated ejaculation, she repeated the question, and this time Thomas shook his head. ‘Not—not tonight,’ he admitted unhappily, and she straightened with determination, taking his small cold hand in hers.

      ‘Now you listen to me,’ she said firmly. ‘How would you like to spend the night at my cottage in Pendower, then I’ll run you home in the morning myself?’

      Her legs quivered at this prospect, but short of bundling the boy into the car and dumping him on his father’s doorstep at eleven o’clock at night, there was nothing else she could do.

      ‘You’re crazy!’ declared Robert, jerking open the car door. ‘Why can’t you take him home?’

      ‘What do you say, Thomas?’

      The boy hesitated. ‘Do you have buttermilk?’

      ‘Oh, my God! Not only does he hesitate, but he makes conditions!’ exclaimed Robert frustratedly, but Catherine ignored him.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to the child now, ‘I don’t have anything like that. Why? Is it your favourite?’

      ‘No!’ Thomas was adamant. ‘I hate it. My mother makes me drink it.’

      ‘I see.’ Catherine raised her eyebrows helplessly, as he suddenly smiled up at her.

      ‘I’ll come with you now,’ he said. ‘Can I sit in front?’

      With much grumbling from Robert, Thomas was wedged between them, and the remainder of the journey was accomplished mostly in a stony silence. Thomas seemed to enjoy watching the road ahead, examining the instruments on the dashboard from time to time, and making comparisons between the Renault and his father’s Volvo, but otherwise there was no conversation. Catherine was glad when they reached their destination, although she was taken aback when Robert said he was going to move into the hotel.

      ‘You only have two beds,’ he pointed out shortly, as they stood in the small hallway of Catherine’s cottage in Pembroke Square. ‘And as you’ve given one away …’ He paused, significantly. ‘Unless you’d like me to share yours?’

      ‘Oh, Robert …’

      ‘I thought not.’ He marched angrily up the stairs. ‘Then I’ll just get my case and leave you two alone.’

      ‘Robert!’ Catherine felt terrible now. ‘Robert, there is the couch.’

      ‘No, thanks.’ He came down again, carrying the overnight bag he had taken up earlier. ‘I prefer a proper bed, thank you.’ He halted in the hall, and looked half longingly at her. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, shall I?’

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