“That’s not what I meant, Sharley.”
There was something about the way he said her name...
“I’d like that,” she whispered. And then she had surprised even herself, for that was when she had brushed her lips against the cleft in his chin, and been stunned by the hungry way he had kissed her in return...
It had started as simply as that. Within days, they had become a subject for comment in the town. Within a week, they had been spending almost every evening together.
And on New Year’s Eve, as they drank champagne at the country club, he had kissed her and said with an odd note of tension in his voice, “I’m a fool, I suppose, even to show you this, but…” He pulled a tiny velvet box from his pocket.
Sharley’s eyes widened in shock as the full-carat diamond caught the romantically-dimmed light of the nearest chandelier and fractured it into dancing rainbows.
Spence snapped the box shut and said uneasily, “I don’t mean to pressure you. I just hope that someday you’ll want to wear that — and so...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Stupid of me. Forget it.”
She had reached for his hand blindly, through tears of happiness, and whispered, “But I don’t want to forget it, Spence. Oh, yes, I’ll marry you!”
It’s funny, Sharley thought, that only now do I realize that he never really proposed to me at all.
She stirred restlessly in the cold bed. Suddenly she didn’t mind the brush of the blankets, still frigid where her body had not yet warmed them, for the pain in her heart was worse.
She had accepted a proposal of marriage that had never actually been made. All Spence had really done was tell her that someday he might propose, but she had answered a question that hadn’t been asked and seized an offer that hadn’t been made.
He hadn’t seemed unhappy about it, she reminded herself. Still, what was the poor guy supposed to do just then — tell the boss’s niece that he hadn’t meant it quite that way after all?
She pulled a pillow over her head. It didn’t help hide her humiliation. Had he felt trapped? And if so, had he wanted — subconsciously, at least — to be caught that day in the gardener’s cottage? Had he wanted to get out, before it was too late?
Sharley hadn’t thought of that scenario before, and it made her feel slightly sick, because it was the only explanation she’d managed to find which made any sense at all. Why had he taken Wendy to the house, anyway? She had asked herself that question a thousand times. Why hadn’t he shown the good sense to take the girl to a hotel or to his apartment instead of the gardener’s cottage — the home he was to share with his bride? He must have known Sharley was likely to stop by...
She dozed off finally, but hers was a restless sleep, disturbed by the pounding of sleet against the tin roof. Once during the night she even thought she heard a door bang — but that couldn’t be; she had checked all the locks. It must have been a branch breaking and falling against the side of the cabin, she told herself. In any case, she was too exhausted, and the cabin was too cold, to go looking for strange things which happened to go bump in the night.
By morning the worst of the storm had passed, but the sky was still dark gray and dismal. Sharley reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. The main room would be warmer, she told herself. She would hurry into her clothes...or perhaps she wouldn’t bother. She tugged a heavy terrycloth robe out of her suitcase and shoved her feet into furry slippers. She’d get warm first, and then she’d brave getting dressed.
The main room was warmer, but not by much. The remnants of her fire were cold and gray. She should probably have stayed up till the fire died completely so she could close the damper. No doubt that was where all the heat had gone — straight up the chimney. Besides, the propane stove sounded funny; it was making an odd little whistling noise...
No, not a whistle, she realized, but a snore. And it wasn’t coming from the stove, but from the couch nearby.
A snore meant a person. No doubt it was a traveler who had gotten caught in the storm, stumbled across the cabin, and assumed it was empty. Perhaps that noise she’d heard in the night had been a window breaking; a missing pane would certainly help account for the temperature in here this morning.
She tiptoed across the room and peered over the back of the couch at her unexpected visitor.
He was stretched out at full length on his side, with one arm thrown above his head and a bright-colored Indian blanket pulled up to his chin. The blanket was too short, and a full twelve inches of his legs stuck out at the bottom of it. He hadn’t bothered to take off his shoes. His dark hair was tousled as if it had been soaked and then allowed to dry naturally. His eyelashes lay heavily against his cheekbones, which were slightly flushed.
Sharley blinked and looked again, and her stomach felt as if it was turning a very slow double somersault. No, her mind wasn’t playing tricks. The man who lay on her couch, so peacefully and soundly asleep, really was Spence Greenfield.
CHAPTER FOUR
Spence seemed to sense her presence, for he woke with a start. In fact, he moved so fast, pushing the blanket away and leaping to his feet, that Sharley took two steps back in pure astonishment. The movement caught his eye, and he wheeled around to face her.
For all of ten seconds they simply stared at each other.
If Sharley didn’t know better, she would swear that some cosmic force, in a diabolical fit of humor, had swept away the elegantly-tailored Spence Greenfield she knew and substituted a changeling in his place.
He looked haggard. His flannel shirt and jeans were rumpled. There was a long red crease across one cheek where his face had rested against a seam in the upholstery; it slashed like a scar through the dark stubble of a day-old beard.
Of course, Sharley had to admit, she must not look like her usual self, either. She hadn’t bothered to comb her hair, and it was probably standing on end. Her terry robe was warm and practical, but it was a far cry from the little satin-and-lace number she’d planned to take on her honeymoon. And he’d never seen her before without lipstick and eye shadow, any more than she’d seen him with the careless beginnings of a beard...
Spence opened his mouth as if to comment on her appearance, and sneezed instead.
The sound startled Sharley back to reality. She dug her hands deep into the pockets of her robe and said stiffly, “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
Spence’s jaw tightened. “Well, I certainly didn’t come up to see you, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Oh?”
“Hell, no. The entire town thought you were going to the Bahamas. If I wanted to run into you, this is the last place I’d have gone.” He sat down on the couch again with his head in his hands and uttered a succinct phrase that would have made Charlotte Hudson threaten to wash out his mouth with soap.
Sharley said curtly, “That expresses my sentiments exactly.” She moved around the couch to face him. “Since we’re obviously agreed that we don’t want to both be here, one of us is going to have to go. I was here first, so you’ll have to leave.”
Spence shook his head, but there was no defiance in the gesture, no angry challenge. “Not in this mess.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you looked outside?”
Sharley glanced at the window. She couldn’t see through it, and at first, she actually wondered if Martin had had the panes replaced with security glass, the kind with an embossed pattern which admitted light but prevented window-peeking. Then she realized there was nothing wrong with the glass except for a solid coating of ice on the outside of it. Raindrops had hit the pane and froze as they ran down it, creating layer upon layer of ice in an intricate pattern.
Unwilling to believe her eyes, she tugged the front door open. The wind whipped around her, searing her lungs; the cold seemed to munch at her fingertips —and the foot she had set on the porch threatened to slide out from under her. Despite the protection of the overhanging roof, the floor was coated with a full inch of i
ce.
She grabbed for the door jambs and dragged herself back into the cabin.
“I made it within a mile before the car went into the ditch,” Spence said. “At least I thought I was within a mile. So…”
Sharley was leaning against the door, shivering. “So you walked? That’s stupid, Spence. Don’t you know you’re supposed to stay in your car in a storm?”
“Of course I know that,” he said irritably. “But I also knew no one would start looking for me anytime soon. So if I wasn’t going to be found sitting in that car next week frozen stiff, I had to get myself out of the situation.”
She could see the sense in that. Still, the idea of that walk in the dark, in a storm, sent shudders through her.
“By the time I got here I was pretty well frozen, so I sat down by the stove to thaw out, and I guess I went to sleep.”
“Didn’t you wonder why it was warm?” Sharley pushed herself away from the door and went to stand beside the stove. “Or was your brain too frozen for that sort of logic?”
“Martin called the handyman to have him open the place up for me.”
Sharley swallowed hard. So that was why the cabin had been warm when she arrived. Mrs. Harper hadn’t done wonders in finding Joe Baxter after all.
Spence sneezed again.
“You’ve caught cold,” Sharley said dully.
He sniffed and dragged a handkerchief from his pocket. “Congratulations, Sherlock.”
“You don’t need to be sarcastic. You deserve it, getting wet and not even bothering to dry off.” She backed a little closer to the stove and glanced around the room. On the floor at the end of the couch was a duffel bag she didn’t recognize. That was the only evidence of his presence — that and Spence himself, of course.
His third sneeze sounded as if his head was about to come off. No doubt it felt that way, too, Sharley thought, from the way he groaned and sagged down onto the couch.
She sighed. “I’ll make you some tea.”
“Nobody asked you to play nursemaid,” he said thickly.
She didn’t even bother to answer.
The lights in the kitchen didn’t work. Sharley didn’t know why she should have been surprised; with at least an inch of ice coating the wires, something was bound to give. But at least the range was propane-powered, and in a few minutes the kettle was whistling. It was a cheerful sound.
That figured, Sharley reflected. Only an inanimate object could possibly register any humor in this situation.
Spence’s eyes were closed when she returned to the main room, but he roused as she pulled up a small table beside him. He eyed the tray she set down. It contained two steaming mugs of tea and a tall glass of orange juice, but his gaze focused instead on the foil-wrapped tablet which lay at the edge of the tray.
“Decongestant,” Sharley said briefly. “I tucked a couple in my purse last month when Charlotte had that awful cold, and I forgot to put them back in the medicine cabinet.”
Spence reached for the tablet and the glass of juice. “I take it back. You’re not a nursemaid, you’re an angel.”
The gratitude in his voice caught at her vocal cords, and she had to clear her throat before she could say, “Don’t get excited. I’ve got just two of them, and each one is only good for twelve hours.”
Spence swallowed the tablet. “So I’ll count my blessings and not worry about tomorrow.”
He looked as if his throat hurt, too. That fact, plus his careless attitude, combined to make her feel just a little angry. “On the other hand, for all you know that pill could really be cyanide.”
He smiled a little. “In that case, you’d have given me both of them.” He settled back into the couch with the tea mug cradled between his hands, closed his eyes, and said, “Why didn’t I see your car last night?”
“It’s around back.”
He nodded. “I just stumbled in the front door. Any chance of getting your car out?”
Sharley shrugged. “If you put yours in the ditch, why do you think mine would fare any better?”
“It’s daylight, at least.”
“So what? We’d have a great view as we slid off the road. How badly was your car damaged?”
Spence didn’t open his eyes. “I didn’t stick around to inspect the fenders. But I don’t think touch-up paint will take care of it.”
That reminded Sharley of the other things he’d been buying at the hardware store. “You didn’t happen to bring those emergency candles with you, did you?”
“Yes. Don’t tell me the power’s out, too.”
Sharley shifted in her chair and pulled her feet up under her. “Is Joe likely to be checking on you? Bringing supplies or anything?”
“The caretaker? In this weather? You must be kidding. If we can’t get out—”
“He’s probably got a tractor. Maybe one of those all-terrain vehicles.”
Spence rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Martin told him I didn’t want to be disturbed. So I suppose he stocked up the kitchen and the firewood as ordered, and I won’t catch a glimpse of him all week.”
Sharley sighed. “Damn. I didn’t even talk to him, just left a message. But since he’d already done what I asked, he probably won’t worry about me either.”
“And, since he knows that both of us are here...” Spence shook his head ruefully. “I don’t think he’s likely to bother us.”
She wanted to groan. Of course he was right; Joe Baxter would assume this was a lovers’ tryst, and keep his distance. “Joe’s house is only a mile on east of here. We could—”
Spence opened his eyes slowly. “I walked less than that last night, and look at me.”
“It’s not raining now.”
“The temperature dropped like a rock overnight, Sharley. We’d freeze before we got over the first hill. We’ll just have to put up with each other for a day or two, that’s all.”
Sharley chewed on her lower lip. Put up with each other... She’d bet it sounded easier than it was.
“Besides, this can’t last forever.” His voice was slow and flat, as if he was fighting off sleep.
Rest would probably be the best thing for him. He looked exhausted. A mile-long trek through freezing rain... He was lucky he’d found his way to the cabin at all. In the storm, in unfamiliar country, it would have been easy to miss.
Well, he hadn’t missed. So there was no sense in having panic attacks about what could have happened.
She uncurled herself from her chair. She’d get dressed and bring in some firewood, and then she’d rummage around for something to eat.
She didn’t think she’d made a sound, but Spence said, without stirring or opening his eyes, “Thanks, Sharley.”
“It’s all right.” She took two steps toward her bedroom and added, awkwardly, “I’m sorry you have me to contend with instead of Wendy.”
He grunted a little as if in agreement, but he didn’t answer.
He had said something earlier about not wanting to be disturbed. Was it possible he had planned to meet Wendy here?
Of course, she couldn’t imagine Martin arranging this cozy little retreat, if that was the case. And if that had been Spence’s plan, why hadn’t Wendy simply come with him? But perhaps Martin didn’t know...
“Were you expecting her to join you?” she asked. “Before the storm hit, I mean.”
“No.” The single syllable was crisp and clipped.
Sharley tried not to let herself feel relieved. It had been a silly thought anyway. As a matter of fact, she had been verging on paranoia. But something wouldn’t let her stop. “Why did you come up here, Spence?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. “To think,” he said finally.
“Oh.” That was no answer, and she knew she should leave well enough alone — but she couldn’t. “If I only understood what she means to you, Spence…”
“Nothing, damn it.” His voice held the barest trace of annoyance.
Nothing? He had caused
this entire uproar in both their lives over a woman who meant nothing to him? Sharley didn’t quite know whether she felt sad about that, or sick at heart, or a little of both. How trapped he must have felt, with his wedding day approaching, to go to such an extreme to put a stop to it!
“In that case,” she said slowly, “I feel worse than ever.”
*****
Spence was asleep again when she came out of her bedroom, dressed in jeans and two layers of sweaters. Part of her had wanted to crawl back under the covers and stay there all day, where she wouldn’t have to face him. But the chill of the bedroom weighed even more heavily on her.
A Singular Honeymoon Page 6
