She lay listening, her eyes straining in the darkness, her ears attuned to every creak and sigh as the old house rearranged itself with the firm shutting of the front door.

He had gone out, but to where and for how long?

She willed herself to get up and go downstairs, so that she too might walk away from Beanach, from him, from Blackrig, from this place where she’d felt safe, and did no more.

But what if he’d locked the door, intent on keeping her there at least until the morning?

She dismissed that thought. She would have heard the turn of the key. Having struggled with it herself, she knew how hard it was to lock.

But not hard for him. She thought of his hands, large and blue-veined. The strength of his arms, the height, weight and build of him. All of which he’d used to pleasure her, never to hurt her.

Caroline had made him out to be a monster and she’d done that to make her leave. The irony was that she had planned to desert him anyway.

She got to her feet and went to the window. The outside light was still burning and she could make out his distant figure heading towards the woods. With a start, she realized he was carrying his rifle.

Why was that?

Her sensible self told her he was a gamekeeper and sometimes went out at night to hunt. Her frantic self told her of other reasons, all of them unpleasant.

Seeing him leave, she realized, had made her instantly want him to return.

She thought of earlier as she’d hurled those accusations at him, most of them originating from Caroline. How sad and hurt and lost he’d looked. She, on the other hand, had felt that somehow she’d won.

Yet the only person who’d won this time round was Caroline, and maybe Richard, should she take her pregnant self back to London.

She recalled Greg’s expression when she’d announced that the pregnancy was not his concern. He’d wanted to say something but, reading her mood, had chosen not to, although he could rightly assume he might be the father.

Of course, she had never mentioned Richard nor any previous relationship, yet had questioned him about his. She’d thrown Caroline and now Ailsa at him at every available opportunity. Like tonight.

He’d told her his truth, yet she hadn’t deigned to tell him hers.

What difference would it make now, anyway, since she’d already decided to go?

And yet, watching him walk away from Beanach, away from her, she desperately wanted him to turn and come back.

She went downstairs and set about making herself something to eat, something for both of them, since he might be hungry on his return.