Painted Wings Read online

  Lannwellon Cottage, in a peaceful Welsh valley, was just the ideal place for Deryn to get on with her work as an illustrator of bird life. Ideal? Well, it was until an unwanted visitor arrived, in the person of Dominic Gregory, and proceeded to turn her life and her heart! upside down.

  OTHER , Harlequin romances by LUCY GILLEN I3S3 A WIFE FOR ANDREW 1408 THE SILVER FISHES 1425 GOOD MORNING, DOCTOR HOUSTON 1450 HEIR TO GLEN GHYLL 1481 NURSE HELEN 1507 MARRIAGE BY REQUEST 1533 THE GIRL AT SMUGGLER'S REST 1553 DOCTOR TOBY 1579 WINTER AT CRAY 1604 THAT MAN NEXT DOOR 1627 MY BEAUTIFUL HEATHEN 1649 SWEET KATE 1669 A TIME REMEMBERED 1683 DANGEROUS STRANGER 1711 SUMA tER SEASON 1736 THE ENCHANTED RING 1754 THE PRETTY WITCH

  Many of these titles ore avoiloble at your local bookseller, or through the Harlequin Reader Service. For a free catalogue listing all available Harlequin Romances, send your name and address to: . HARLEQUIN READER SERVICE, M.P.O. Box 707, Niagara Falls, N.Y. 14302 Canadian address: Stratford, Ontario, Canada. or use order coupon at back of book. Original hard cover edition published in 1972 by Mills & Boon Limited. Lucy Glllen 1972 SEN 373017820 Harlequin edition published May 1974 All the characters in this book have no existence outside the Imagination of the Author and have no selation whatsoever to anyone' hearing (he same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual fcnown 01 unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention. The Harlequin trade mark, consisting of the word HAHLEQUIN and the portrayal of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marhs Office. Printed in Canada 1782

  CHAPTER ONE

  DERYN WILLIAMS frowned momentarily, trying to pinpoint the exact place where the kingfisher had disappeared. It was not easy, for the brightly colioured Bash of feathers had not only been too quick Ifor her to follow but she had missed her chance with thecamera she carried and, with the contrariness of wild creatures, it would probably not appear again while she was around. The willows and paleleafed .beech hung summerheavy on the far bank, reflected in the water, and somewhere among them that .colourful, elusive fisherman had hidden himself. Not that she was too impatient to wait for him to reappear, for her profession had trained her notto be impatient. Photographing and painting birds and butterflies was a job that required plenty of patience and she was prepared to do her share. She stood well back under the trees on her own side of the river and watched, though not very hopefully. The river gleamed and flashed in the sunlight, its surface still rumpled from the small weir just a little way .upstream, and looking as. if someone was scatter! ing silver coins across its slowrunning width. A light breeze shushed softly in the trees around her and Deryn decided that there were much less pleasant things than waiting here for her quarry to reappear. There were surely few more idyllic places E anywhere than Llanwellon, and the river Penntog. 1 Deep in the heart of southern Wales, it was the ' kind of country Deryn had been born and raised in, and which she had missed so much when family upheaval had taken her from it at eleven years old. Now, twelve years later, she was back, with the glorious prospect of three whole months of living in a cottage near the river, drawing and painting as she had never done before. It had been sheer good luck that had brought her in contact with Ivor Rhys, at a party in London, and more lucky still that his sister owned a small stone cottage in the remote valley of the Penntog. If she would really like to stay there, he had told her, he would certainly fix it with his sister, and she could go down there as soon as she liked. Deryn had accepted at once and, taking him at his word, had come down to Llanwellon only two days later. She had been there three days now, and had so far had no regrets. There was no telephone, no electricity and no bathroom, and the nearest usable road was nearly half a mile away. Fortunately, the taxi driver who had driven her there had been sufficiently impressed by her looks to carry her luggage for her down the field path to the cottage. It was, she decided, perfect for her purpose. She worked during the hours of daylight, and went to bed when it grew dark, not even bothering to light the oil lamps provided, and she had slept like a log the two nights she had been there. Mostly she worked outside in the large but neglected garden, sometimes taking her gear into the shade of one of the innumerable trees, at others sitting out in the warm June sun, for so far it had been incredibly fine. It was, on the surface, an idyllic life, and 6 yet she was really working quite hard and she felt sure Gerald would be pleased with what she had done so far. Gerald Morcome was writing the book for which Deryn was providing the illustrations, and he had been particularly keen to have her include a painting of a kingfisher. It was not that she was not an excellent freehand artist, but she always, with wild life subjects, liked to have photographs to refer to for some of the more important details, and she preferred taking her own. Hence this present vigil beside the river, waiting for the elusive kingfisher to reappear.She really felt quite sleepy at the moment, even though she was standing in the shade, for there was something so incredibly peaceful, almost somnolent about the scene. The slowmoving, sparkling river that dazzled one's eyes it one stared at it for too long, the stillness of the trees, except for that light, breathless whisper, and the soft sounds of the river bank. All were much too conducive to sleep. : Bees hummed drowsily among a cluster of Queen Anne's lace, and Deryn leaned back her head against the cool bark of a willow and smiled. Nothing, surely, could be more perfect, more harmonious than this, and she had three more months of it to : look forward to. Deryn herself looked almost too exotic for her surroundings although at the same time she seemed quite at home here. She might perhaps have been a I beautiful, but alien flower transported from some more tropical setting and set down amid the dainty I tranquillity of the Welsh valley. A native Celt, she had neither the black good looks of her father, nor the blueeyed fairness of her mother. Her long hair, worn loose and reaching below her shoulders, was brown, a rich deep brown like newly turned earth, and her eyes were hazel, wide apart and heavily fringed with dark lashes. Her mouth was perhaps a trifle too generously proportioned for conventional beauty, but it was full and soft and was one of her most attractive features. She had always disliked wearing shoes and seldom did so unless circumstances made it compulsory, and her feet curled now in a sensual pleasure in the cool grass. The vividly bright emerald green and gold kaftan she wore had been brought back from Morocco for her when Gerald returned from his last trip, and it suited her so well that it did not look as out of place as it might have done on another wearer, the only incongruous note being the small, inexpensive camera she carried. She became instantly alert a few seconds later when a brief blur of colour darted out from the concealing trees, only to disappear again. Deryn waited, the camera held ready, for she could see the lazy, shadowy shape of fish just below the surface of the water, and surely the kingfisher would not miss such an opportunity. Sure enough, after only a second or two the brightly plumaged bird appeared again, perched for a few seconds on a branch high above the water, then suddenly dived, straight and true as an arrow, striking the water in a plume of silvery spray. It was all so quick that Deryn had no time to take her picture until the bird returned, within seconds, with the luckless fish in its long beak, tossed it into the air and, deftly catching it, swallowed it head first. The latter performance just allowed her time to snap hastily and hope she had been successful. She smiled wryly a few moments later when, having shown himself at last, the creature seemed inclined to linger and preen. Deryn had no idea of how long she had been there, time meant little to her when she was occupied, but she was suddenly aware of some distant and alien sounds coming from the direction of the cottage. She turned her head, frowning when she recognised the sound as the excited barking of a dog, and left her place beside the tree reluctantly to go and investigate. She kept no dog herself and there was none that she knew
of nearby who would be visiting her either alone or in company. It was cool easy walking all the way back to the cottage, and she tossed back her long hair with one hand as she went, disliking the idea of having her peace invaded, however temporarily. She could see her company before he noticed her, although the big brown dog with him sensed her coming before she was actually in sight and set up his loud, insistent barking again. She heard the man's voice raised briefly in command and then the . animal squatted on his haunches, shivering with excitement and ready to launch himself at her if the man should decide to remove restraining fingers from his collar. ' They watched her, both of them, as she came out from the shelter of the trees and through the ' brokendown gate into the garden, and Deryn was aware of the usual amount of approval and perhaps speculation too in the eyes of the man. He looked very tall, especially from her barefoot nve feet two inches, and without the benefit of heels and he was very dark with a deeply tanned skin and black hair. His eyes, surprisingly, appeared to be grey and they regarded her steadily as she came across the grass, her carriage unconsciously graceful the emerald green and gold kaftan flowing against her excellent figure as she walked. He smiled suddenly and she found herself responding instinctively, although she had no intention of encouraging visitors. 'Hello,' he said, and Deryn looked at him questioningly. 'I don't expect visitors out here,' she told him, intent on putting him in the picture right away. 'I didn't know anyone could find this cottage.' 'It is difficult,' he admitted, 'but I left the car on the road and we found it eventually ' 'We?' He inclined his head in the direction of the dog, still overwhelmingly anxious to make friends. 'Me and Hound,' he said with a grin. He was watching her still with that speculative, slightly wondering expression and the incongruity of the kaftan in this setting had not yetoccurred to her. "I'm Dominic Gregory,' he volunteered as an afterthought, and Deryn did not spend too much time wondering why the name struck her as vaguely familiar. 'Are you staying round here ?' she asked. It seemed unlikely that any of the tiny cottages in the village could house extra people, especially when they were 10 accompanied by a large and rather enthusiastic dog, and she did not see him as a native either, so that his sudden appearance puzzled her. He smiled again, an oddly crooked smile that was somehow very attractive despite its crookedness and displayed very white teeth against the background of that tanned face. 'This is Llanwellon Cottage, isn't it?' he asked then, and Deryn nodded. 'Yes, it is.' He elevated a dark brow. 'Then I am staying around here,' he said. 'Right here, to be precise.' Deryn blinked uncertainly, wondering if she had heard him correctly. 'You you think you're staying here?' she asked. 'At Llanwellon?' 'That's right. I've taken it for a couple of months to do some fishing.' Deryn stared at him, a sudden and sinking sensation of dismay curling at her stomach as she realised what must have happened. 'But but you can't be,' she ventured, knowing only too well that he could be, and that Ivor Rhys had forgotten to say anything to his sister about her own visit at all. It was typical of Ivor, in a way, and she should have made sure before she came, but now she was here she was not going to relinquish her right to be there without a fight. 'Can't I?' The brow flicked upwards again, this time expressively doubtful. 'May I ask why not?' 'Well, because I'm already here. I mean I've taken it for three months and I've been here only three days so far.' The grey eyes swept over her from the top of her head to her bare brown feet and he looked as if he 11 might laugh at any minute. 'I didn't expect hippie squatters right out here,' he said, and Deryn gSed at him indignantly. For the first time she wished here was a telephone more easily available so that V Rhys and find out exactly what 'I can't understand it,' she said. 'Ivor told me he'd fix everything. One of us had better ring him and nnct out what went wrong.' 'Ivor? Gwyneth's brother?' Deryn nodded. Yes, do you know him?' GHe grinned ' Not exactly" I�m more matey with Gwyneth 'And she let you have the cottage?' He nodded. 'Week before last. She said it was standing empty and I could come down here if I liked and commune with nature.' His gaze swept over her again and this time there was no doubt at all that he was finding it all very amusing. Is that what you're doing. Miss ? ' Williams,' Deryn supplied. Deryn Williams.' he looked surprised. Oh, you're a native, are you? I came originally from Wales,' Deryn agreed. I was going by the name,' he told her. Deryn it has to be Celtic for something, a name like that. What do you mean? or don't you delve into things like that " This was all much too far from the subject of who should have first claim on the cottage, but she was prepared to let him have his moment if she finished he victor. It means bird,' she informed him. At least it s from a longer word meaning bird.' 12 'I see.' He smiled. 'And are you communing with nature, Miss Williams?' She was quite certain he was laughing at her, but she answered readily enough. After all, what had she. to lose? Possession was nine points of the law, and she had been in possession for three days ahead of him. Also she was engaged in doing something a little more constructive than fishing. 'In a way I suppose I am,' she agreed. 'I'm working.' Both brows elevated this time and he looked even more doubtful. 'Really?' 'I'm an illustrator. I draw and paint birds to illustrate natural history books,' she enlarged when he looked curious. 'Oh, I see.'' For a second he looked at her steadily, then he smiled, a smile full of meaning and not altogether flattering, she thought. 'If I may say so,' he said then, 'you look rather like I would expect a lady who draws birds tor natural history books to look. Except I would have expected you to be more fair, fat and forty, if you don't mind my remarking.' Deryn glared at him. That was the second time he had made an oblique but unmistakably snide reference to her appearance, and she resented it. No matter if she could be said to be rather Bohemian, it was no excuse for his passing remarks on it, and she disliked those who had preconceived ideas of how certain people in certain jobs should look. It was not only biased, it was unrealistic. 'You obviously don't know many illustrators,' she informed him. 3 'I don't, but I'm willing to remedy that right now.' 'I'm not prepared to enlighten you,' Deryn retorted. 'And I must ask you to do something about this this muddle.' 'You're not prepared to move out?' 'Certainly I'm not,' Deryn said indignantly. 'I've been here three days and I consider I have first claim.' 'Ah, but does Gwyneth know you're here?' he asked. 'It's her cottage, after all.' Deryn frowned again, wondering just how she stood legally, if it should ever come to the point. 'She should do,' she told him. 'Ivor said he'd fix it with her.' 'And how long ago was that?' 'Four, no, five days ago.' 'Ahl Now have prior claim in that case. It's a couple of weeks since I fixed it up with Gwyneth.' 'But you can't ' 'Chuck you out?' he asked, looking as if he would relish the prospect. 'I suppose legally you could,' she allowed, and he laughed. 'You're so right I could.' He looked down the untidy garden to where a neat little summerhouse stood in the shade of a big elm. 'However, there may be an alternative. Is that place habitable?' 'The summerhouse?' Deryn looked doubtful. .'I shouldn't think so. Why?' He was off down the garden before she could say more, the dog now free of restraint, bounding on ahead. 'It doesn't look too bad,' he remarked, 14 when Deryn followed him, an uneasy suspicion in her mind. It was quite a large summerhouse, in fact, for the size of the cottage, and it was in quite good condition with fairly new paint on its doors and windows. The door creaked only a little when he pushed it open, and there was no hasty scurrying into dark corners to betray mice or worse. It had a musty smell, but it had not known fresh air for some time, so that was only to be expected. 'Quite cosy,' he said, trying the floorboards cautiously. 'And quite sound too, by the look of it.' There was one big room, with a wrought iron table and three chairs, and a smaller, windowless one, with a collection of rusted garden tools stacked in one corner. Deryn eyed him suspiciously as he looked around him. "You're you're not thinking of moving in here, are you?' she asked, and he turned and grinned at her. 'As a matter of fact I am,' he said. 'I don't suppose you're prepared to share your maiden couch with me, are you?' 'I am not ' He shrugged. 'I just wondered.' 'Well, you have no need to wonder, Mr. Gregory. I may look a a bit ' 'Flowerpower?' he suggested, and grinned. 'I'm sorry, Mis
s Williams.' 'So you should be ' 'But since you're not prepared to share and since I'm not prepared to lose my holiday, you can't really object if I use the summerhouse, can you?' i5 'I can,' Deryn retorted,, 'but I don't imagine it will have any effect.' .'None at all,' he replied cheerfully. 'You have the cottage, I have the summerhouse that's fair enough, isn't it?' ' I suppose so.' He turned and regarded her steadily. 'You're not exactly hospitable, are you?' he asked. 'After all, I expect if I roped in the local law they'd agree I have a much stronger claim to the cottage than you have, and you'd be out on your daipty ear. On second thoughts,' fte added with a grin, 'knowing. the nature of the Welsh male, I'd probably be the one out on my ear if the local law got an eyeful of you in that creation. What on earth is it, by the way?' I' 'A kaftan,' Deryn informed him. He cocked a brow at her. 'Really? I don't remember ever seeing an eastern gentleman look that good in what know as a kaftan.' 'Well, it came from Morocco,' Deryn said. 'So it is genuine.' 'But strictly for export,' he insisted. 'Maybe,' she allowed, 'but I happen to like it.' His eyes gleamed appreciatively. 'Oh, so do I It looks gorgeous on you, like a touch of eastern promise. Most unexpected in a quiet Welsh valley.' Used as she was to the easy, relaxed ways of'her own circle, she felt he was behaving quite out 'of character, and it made her feel oddly vulnerable. She could not object to being paid compliments, and that was how he made it sound, although she was certain something less flattering lay behind it. 16 ' To cover her uneasiness she turned back to the smatter of his occupation of the summerhouse, since presumably he had made up his mind about it. It would ruin all her own plans, of course, and that .wretched dog would scare away all the birds. 'You're not serious about staying here, are you?' .she asked, and he looked surprised. 'Of course. Why not?' 'Well, for one thing there's no bed, no kitchen. Nothing but a table and those chairs.' He grinned, apparently undeterred. "I've,mannaged in worse situations,' he told her. 'Don't you worry about me.' 'I wasn't exactly worrying about you,' Deryn informed him, 'but you can't sleep on bare boards, and there's no handy fish and chip shop. What are you going to do for food?' He regarded her for a moment, laughter only just below the solemn expression in his eyes. 'You know,' he said at last, 'considering I'm letting you have the cottage, you're not being a bit matey in return. You've go.t a couple of bedrooms in the cottage, haven't you?' She nodded, wondering what 'was coming next. 'There are two,' she agreed. 'But I'm not letting you have one.' 'Perish the thought!' he said, and tuttutted reprovingly. 'I just don't see why I can't bring a bed down here.' ' I suppose you could,' she agreed grudgingly. 'After all, Gwyneth Rhys is your friend, isn't she?' 'Right.' 'But that doesn't solve the meals problem,' Deryn 17 ' insisted, still hoping to find an insurmountable obstacle. 'Can you cook?' She frowned as she nodded. 'I do my best on the solid fuel cooker,' she told him. 'But what has that to do with it?' 'Fair shares,' he declared blandly. 'I provide the wherewithal, and you cook it. O.K.?' Deryn stared at him blankly. 'You you mean you expect me to cook for you?' 'Why not?' he asked. 'You wouldn't want me to starve, would you?' 'It doesn't concern me what happens to you,' Deryn informed him frankly. 'I don't see why I should be expected to cook for you.' 'Ah, well now, I don't see why I should let you stay on in the cottage when I have first right to it, and my claim's official,' he said, grinning broadly. 'So it's your choice, you little green cockatoo either you cooperate, or out you go.' She resented the scathing reference to her dress as much as the threat to her privacy, but there seemed to be little she could do about either at the moment, for she was determined to stay on in the cottage and she thought he would almost certainly carry out his threat if she objected. .. 'Very well,' she agreed at last with a heavy sigh of resignation, and he smiled his satisfaction. 'Sealed with a kiss,' he said as he extended a hand for her to shake, and at the same time leaned over and kissed her lightly on her forehead. 'I'm glad you're satisfied,' she told him. 'Aren't you?' 18 'Do you expect me to be? When I've been blackmailed not only into letting you stay in the 'summerhouse, but into cooking your meals for you, as well?' His laughter was both unexpected and startling, and she caught her breath sharply when he reached out a hand and slid one long finger around the highcollar of the kaftan. 'You remind me of a bright little bird,' he said. 'A little bird with painted wings and bare feet.' 19