The Cuckoo's Child Read Online Free PDF

in that bleak treeless landscape could be seen the occasional whin bush, a splash of sunshine among the black peaty soil and the heather, a definite hint of spring not far away.
    The wide undulating track cut through the rough bent-grass, with the ground rising to the ridge of the moor above on the one side, while to her left, sloping precipitately down into Wainthorpe, a plunging road could be seen. No sign of the house yet, and the threadbare soil and the sharp, flinty stones under the soles of her shoes did not make walking any easier. She had to watch her step, so that she didn’t at first see the man with the dog who was standing about a hundred yards distant, his back to her, looking down into the valley below. The dog, however, saw her. With a low, snarling noise deep in its throat, it made a wild dash towards her, a long-legged creature with a great square muzzle and a rough-curled black and tan coat, and a turn of speed that brought him within feet of her in seconds. There was no cover and the dog’s master did not even bother to turn around, not even when an involuntary scream escaped her. She backed away, caught her foot in a twisted root of heather and fell awkwardly. With a spring, the dog was over her, its feet on her shoulders, pinning her to the ground. Its jaws were within inches of her face when she was aware of someone arriving with a leap and a bound on to the path beside her, and the dog was pulled off her by a yank on its collar. She was assisted to her feet with a firm brown hand.
    â€˜I say, I hope you’re not harmed?’
    â€˜Not for want of trying!’ replied Laura without much grace, for she did not like to be seen at a disadvantage.
    A pair of steady grey eyes in a deeply tanned face looked down with concern into hers, as she stood shakily recovering and dusting herself down. She had suffered a shock, and might have a bruise or two, but she didn’t think there was more to it than that. ‘You might, however,’ she added indignantly, straightening her hat, ‘do well to keep your dog under better control.’
    â€˜And so I might, if he belonged to me.’ He threw a glance to his right and Laura realized her mistake. The man whose back had been turned towards her was walking away with the aid of a stick, apparently uncaring of the scene behind him, and the dog was now loping after him. ‘There goes Sim’s master – Ainsley Beaumont.’
    It scarcely seemed a good omen for the future that the man who had engaged to employ her was one who could ignore such an incident, despite there having been a rescuer to hand. ‘Then I must beg your pardon, and thank you.’ He waved her thanks away. ‘What sort of brute is that? I’ve never seen an animal like it!’
    â€˜I dare say you haven’t, he’s an Airedale – mostly – a dog bred in these parts, and not renowned for its sweet temper, though Sim’s more impetuous than vicious. He’s still not much more than a puppy.’
    â€˜Well, I must take your word for it.’
    He laughed. ‘All the same, he can hardly be blamed for what he did, he’s on his own ground here, and we’re not used to trespassers.’
    â€˜I’m no trespasser,’ she returned crisply, gathering her dignity. ‘I’m expected at the house. My luggage has gone ahead of me.’
    â€˜Ah. Then it appears I must now beg your pardon.’ He raised a humorous eyebrow, and she flushed, suspecting he knew very well who she was. A tall, loose-limbed man with a craggy, lively face, he was evidently not one to adhere to convention. Cold as it was, he went hatless, with the wind raking his crisp hair. His dress was relaxed and informal, a dark jacket and a snuff-coloured waistcoat, a flowing tie. ‘You must be the new lady librarian from London,’ he added, confirming her suspicions.
    â€˜I suppose the description will serve as well as any.’
    â€˜And