The Shadowy Horses

"Well, you were definitely lusting. Don't bother to deny it."

"And if I was?"

He looked wounded. "Well, you might have considered my feelings. We do have a history, you and I."

"We were only together three months."

"Three wonderful months."

My sidelong glance was skeptical. "Yes, well, I'm sure they were wonderful for you, considering you were also seeing Sally Jackson at the time."

He closed his mouth.

"And anyway," I continued, "that was years ago, Adrian. How many women have you had since then? Thirty? Fifty? Refresh my memory."

"I'm only saying ..."

"You're only being a covetous brat," I told him, bluntly. “And a flaming hypocrite. Now, back off.''

"Hey," he coaxed me, in his best persuasive voice, but even as he raised his arm I turned and froze him where he stood.

"And if you put that arm around me one more time," I told him, calmly, "I will not be held responsible."

"OK, OK." He pulled back, lifting both hands in a self-defensive gesture. "Christ, I only meant..."

The auctioneer's voice cut him off, and looking round, I noticed that all eyes had turned in our direction. Adrian paused, lowering his own hands with dawning comprehension. "Dammit, I think I just bought something."

"Come on, laddie," the auctioneer called out, "don't be playing yourself all day, we've a muckle fish to get through yet."

Delighted, I watched Adrian shuffle forward to collect his unexpected purchase.

Close by my ear, a deep voice said, "He'll not do that again."

Twisting my head round, I looked up in some surprise at David's face. "I wouldn't count on it He doesn't always learn from his mistakes." I studied David's expression. "Was it the hospital that rang you?"

"Aye. My mother's being difficult," he reported, looking pleased. Someone bumped him from the side and he shifted to stand directly behind me, his chin clearing the top of my head by a few inches. His breath stirred my hair while he watched Adrian poking reluctantly through a fish box packed with ice. "Gave him a ticking off, did you?"

I followed his gaze, a little embarrassed. "Sort of."

"Well, I reckon he deserved it," David said, approvingly. "Bonking on the bloody pier, indeed!"

I tipped my head back sharply and my face flamed. “You heard!"

"Only a few words, like," he promised me. "I didn't hear the part about the lusting."

Growing several shades redder, I hastily lowered my chin again and found myself face to face with Adrian, who'd returned with two great ugly flatfish. He had, if nothing else, recovered his sense of humor. Shifting his burden, he solemnly passed me the keys to the Jaguar.

"And what are these for?"

“I seem to be having a run of bad luck," he replied. "You'll have to do the driving, I'm afraid. No point in tempting fate."

"But you're not superstitious," I reminded him.

"Better safe than sorry. In the past hour I've been shat on by a seagull and done this." He held the two fish up, to prove his point. "And bad luck, as you've always been so fond of telling me, does tend to come in threes."

XXIII

Jeannie must have heard the car come up the drive. She met us in the hallway and placed a warning finger across her lips, jerking her head dramatically toward the closed door of Peter's sitting room. "It's genius at work in there," she told us, low, "and we're not to interrupt him. Pain of death, he said. Come on into the kitchen."

The four of us moved across the front hall like a band of burglars, wary of every squeaking floorboard, and it wasn't until we were safely ensconced in the warm narrow kitchen that anyone dared to breathe.

David let his breath out in a long sigh that became a yawn as he dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. Bracing his feet on the floor, he tilted the chair back to rest his head against the wall while he watched Jeannie filling the kettle.

"The genius," he said, stiffening his jaw against another yawn, "is probably asleep."

"He's more awake than you," Jeannie defended our absent employer. "Up to his neck in papers he was, when I took his tea in, and he didn't show signs of stopping. He's wanting to get that report of his finished, before Dr. Connelly comes ..." Her voice stopped as she lost her train of thought, sniffing the air experimentally. "What is that smell?"

Adrian, in the act of hitching a chair forward, glanced up smoothly. "That would be me," he informed her. Tossing his newspaper-wrapped parcel onto the table, he sent her a generous smile. "Don't say I never bring you anything."

Curious, she unfolded the paper and stared at the fish. "Lemon sole!" she exclaimed. "Well, aren't you wonderful? I can do them for lunch, tomorrow—they'll be nicer than chops, for our company." She glanced around at the three of us. "Been to the fish auction, have you?"

"Aye." David rubbed a hand across his eyes and nodded. A third yawn gripped him, but he tried to get the words out anyway. "Verity hadn't... ever ... seen ..."

"God, Davy," Jeannie cut him off, shaking her head, "you've not stopped ganting since you came in. You'll be making me tired, if you don't stop."

"Sorry." He closed his mouth and eyed her mildly. "Can't help it."