They had reached the summit of the hill. Josh Killane suddenly pulled up at the side of the road, turning towards her, still smiling, an arm sliding along the back of the seat. Prue stiffened, her face uneasy, her intuition working overtime. He wasn't going to make a pass, was he?
Did he think one smile was all it took?
'Why have you stopped here?' she demanded, body tense.
He stared for a second, then his lids half veiled his dark eyes, and his mouth curved in a crooked smile. 'Why do you think?'
That did it. Prue was sure she wasn't imagining anything; the silky tone of voice or that mocking little smile. 'Will you start this car again, please?' she snapped, reaching for the door-handle, ready to leap out if he got any closer.
'Oh, not yet/he said, lazily putting out one hand, but instead of touching her face he flicked the windswept red hair back from her averted profile, so that he could see her better.
'Keep your hands to yourself!'
'There's no need to work yourself into a tizzy,' he drawled, grinning. 'I didn't park here to make a grab at you, so you can stop breathing hard and shaking in your shoes!'
'I'm not doing either!' she said at once, furious, but he looked smilingly unconvinced.
'Aren't you? Then you're doing a great imitation of a female in a panic, and I can't think why you should. I only stopped here so that you could see the view!'
Prue stared, open-mouthed. 'The view? Who do you think you're kidding? I wasn't born yesterday.'
'No? And I was beginning to think that could be the only explanation!'
She gave him a green-eyed glare. 'Aren't you funny?'
He eyed her without so much amusement then. 'Miss Allardyce, I'm beginning to feel that for some reason you don't like me.'
'Whatever makes you think that?' she sweetly asked.
His mouth set hard. 'Get out of the car!' he said brusquely, and she tensed at the way he said it.
He leaned over her as he finished speaking; his body touched hers briefly, but there was no provocative intention behind the contact. His dark eyes when she stared into them were hostile, not sensual. He opened her door and Prue almost fell out. Unsteadily, she turned and walked over to the drystone wall, so typical of the walls up here in the north of England; often built centuries ago to mark off land boundaries or keep sheep from straying, miles and miles of straight or meandering grey stone walls, in summer often overgrown with grass and gorse, in winter more prominent, like wintry veins across the barren fields. In dry weather, the walls were a dusty grey, but in rain they took on new life and shimmered, a slaty blue-black. She put her hands on the roughness of the stone, felt an insect tickle her skin, pressed down a soft cushion of lichen which left a yellow powder on her finger, but she was only half aware of doing anything; she wasn't even really looking at the stunning view below. She was brooding angrily over what had just happened.
She might have over-reacted when he stopped the car here without warning—but he had had some fun at her expense and she didn't like it!
He got out of the car, too, and came up behind her. 'If you look over the wall, you'll be able to see the whole valley from one end to the other,' he said coolly. 'It's a better view from here than you'll get from your father's farm, and I thought it might help you get your bearings again, jog your memory a little.'
She stared down over the hillside to the valley far below; running in a misty green-grey sweep between the rounded hills. She could see the slate-roofed little market town and the hospital on its outskirts, from where they had just come; the main road and little toy-like cars moving on it, the village of Hallows Cross at the foot of this hill; a spire, a huddle of grey roofs and flinty walls, the village green in the centre by the church.
'I didn't need my memory jogged,' she said. 'I hadn't forgotten anything.'
'Except me?'
A funny little shiver ran down her spine and she was glad she had her back to him because she wasn't sure what he might read in her face.
'I didn't really know you,' she said stiffly.
'Didn't you?' he murmured, and that icy shiver hit her again. What did he mean by that?
'I don't think we so much as shook hands!' she snapped; suspecting another of his deliberate teases.
'We kissed, though!' he said, but when she swung round, eyes wide open and incredulous, he was walking towards the car, saying over his shoulder, 'We'd better get on to High Hallows befor
e your father sends out a search party!'
Prue climbed back into her seat, slamming the door to relieve her feelings. Obviously, it was nonsense. They had never kissed—for heaven's sake, she had only been thirteen when she left here, and Josh Killane had been . . . how much older? Ten years? More like twelve, she thought, eyeing him secretly. He must be thirty-five now.
She decided not to argue with him, though. She was beginning to realise he was mischievous; the more she reacted, the more he provoked her. The best way of dealing with someone like that was to take no notice of them. Let him play his little games! She would ignore him.