by Sandra Brown
“But why are you asking me? I’m sure if Mrs. Lockett were looking for a secretary, she could find one.”
He shrugged negligently, dismissing her logic. “I’m sure she could, too, but it would probably never occur to her to look for one. My reasons are my own, but I promise you that they are above reproach.” He smiled down at her, and his eyes twinkled like blue lights under the bushy white brows.
“Mr. Lockett, I appreciate your liking me enough to invite me,” Lauren said earnestly, “but my place is here. This is where my father wanted me to be.”
“Your father is dead. You’re alive, but you’ll be as good as dead if you don’t get out now.”
Lauren had been startled when he stood up abruptly, almost angrily, and took several impatient steps away from her. When he turned back, he had looked at her with tenderness and spoken more gently.
“Lauren,” she noticed his switch to her first name, “I know you have been taught to obey without questioning. You have a keen sense of duty that is admirable. But I think I see in you a restlessness, an eagerness for life, that needs to be unleashed. You could come to stay awhile, and if things didn’t work out, or if you hated Texas and the Locketts, I would see that you were sent home right away. No hurt feelings.”
What a fool she had been not to accept his invitation right then! Instead, with her head bowed, she had responded softly, “Mr. Lockett, your invitation is overwhelming, and I would love to accept. But I can’t go anywhere.” She shook her head sadly. “I have been taught duty and responsibility, you see. I will probably live with the Prathers for the rest of their lives. They depend on me. It would destroy them for me to leave.”
“And what happens to you when they die? If you haven’t been pawned off on William or someone like him, what will you do then?”
“I’m sure that some provision will have been made for me.”
He sighed heavily and, seeing him so deflated, Lauren was almost prompted to change her mind. He seemed to lose some of his vibrancy. His age was suddenly more apparent on the chiseled features, and there was a mute appeal in the deep blue eyes.
“If there is ever the slightest possibility that you might change your mind, wire me immediately. I mean it. You have a standing invitation.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lockett,” she replied graciously. She wanted his understanding and she said, “I don’t want to be like them.” She had been horrified at her admission. “No, no, I don’t mean—”
“I know what you mean, Miss Holbrook. I’m sure that you have very few unkind thoughts, but you would like to have a broader horizon than the Prathers do, am I correct?”
“Yes! That’s what I was trying to say.”
“Remember, if you ever change your mind…” he reiterated quietly as they walked back toward the front door.
* * *
The sun beat down on the wagon relentlessly. Lauren was becoming weary. The muscles of her back and shoulders ached with fatigue from maintaining her erect posture on the uncomfortable leather seat. Though she had taken numerous sips from the canteen, her throat was parched, and she was covered with dust from the road. Just when she was despairing of ever reaching their destination, Ed Travers nodded his head forward and said, “Coronado.”
The wagon topped a hill, allowing Lauren a panoramic view of the small town where Ben lived when he wasn’t at his ranch. As the horses picked up their pace on the downward side of the hill, she asked eagerly, “How many people live here?”
“Ummm, about three thousand,” Travers replied.
“And how far are we from the ranch? From Keypoint?”
“About a three-hour ride west.”
Lauren’s disappointment was covered by her interest in Coronado as they drove down the main thoroughfare. She realized that people on the street recognized the large palomino tied to the back of the wagon. Several whispered conjectures were exchanged behind screening hands. Lauren resolutely ignored the man behind her and the persons speculating on his condition.
Her only purposes now were to see Ben again and to meet Mrs. Lockett. Examining her feelings for the man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short space of time, Lauren concluded that Ben Lockett represented the father she had never had. He was merry while her own father had been austere; he was big and robust while the pastor had been slight and less than hearty; he was warm while Gerald Holbrook had been reserved, even toward his own daughter. Ben’s deep voice and sharp sense of humor had attracted her to him, and she was breathless with excitement to see him in his own element.
Travers turned the wagon onto a wide, tree-shaded avenue that led south from the center of town. Through the trees, Lauren glimpsed the large house long before Mr. Travers directed the horses up the shell lane.
The house was a credit to whomever had designed it. It was Victorian in design, but not overly ornate, with only a minimum amount of trim. Graceful but sturdy railings outlined the porch that surrounded the house on three sides. On each of the front corners of the second floor were circular rooms domed by onion-shaped cupolas. The tall windows, three on each side of the front porch, were framed in brick-red shutters which contrasted beautiful with the cream-colored frame house. The front door was the same brownish-red and flanked by urns which sported a profusion of red geraniums. The lateness of the summer season didn’t hinder the zinnias, petunias, and roses from blooming in the lush beds that lined the front porch. The grass inside the iron picket-fenced yard was still green and clipped to perfection.
“Oh, how lovely,” Lauren whispered as she gazed at the house in awe. She sat for several moments relishing the fact that she was finally here at Ben’s house.
Travers eased his aching body out of the wagon and went toward the rear of it. He lifted out Lauren’s bags and set them at the end of the sidewalk that led up to the steps in front of the house. He then returned to the back of the wagon and, none too gently, nudged Jared Lockett with his fist. “Come on, Jared, wake up. You’re home.”
Lauren barely noticed the disgruntled groan that issued from under the black hat. She was distracted from her joy over the house only by Ed Travers coming to her side of the wagon and offering his assistance as she alighted. She straightened her hat as best she could without a mirror, shook some of the dust from her navy skirt, and was about to pull on her jacket when the body in the back of the wagon finally climbed down.
She stopped to stare at the rumpled figure. It leaned against the sideboards of the wagon and held its head as if in an effort to keep the head on its shoulders.
Impatient fingers were raked haphazardly through sun bleached brown hair that disobediently fell back into wavy disarray. The man bent from the waist and supported his upper body by placing his hands on his knees as he drew in several long, shuddering breaths. Lauren was fearful of seeing him plunged into the throes of nausea, but he slowly straightened up to his full height. Only then did he turn and see the young woman who was staring at him in fascination.
The deepening afternoon shadows prevented Lauren from having a clear look at his face. She thought his eyes must be dark, but his constant blinking to focus them made their color impossible to discern.
A sardonic smirk lifted one corner of his sensual mouth before he straightened his shoulders a trifle and took three stumbling steps. He stood within an arm’s length of her. She was entranced by this man and his barbaric behavior, and couldn’t find it within herself to move away from him.
Jared placed a hand over the left side of his chest, which lay bare under the loose, unbuttoned shirt, and said with a slur, “Your servant, Miss Ho… Hol… Holberk.”
He bent from the waist again, this time in a travesty of a courtly bow. Executing the gesture was beyond him in his present state. To Lauren’s horror, he continued on his way downward until he grasped her around the waist with two strong hands and leaned upon her bosom to break his fall. She gasped in mortification as he found what he considered to be a haven of repose. His head nestled between her breasts and
he sighed contentedly, not knowing or caring what a comical picture he made. Instinctively his hands slid around her narrow waist to her back, and he pressed her closer.
His breath was warm on her skin through the thin linen of her shirt. For an instant, when his nose nuzzled the inside curve of her breast, Lauren felt certain she would faint. Even more staggering to her was a fleeting, overpowering urge to clasp his head into the soft depth of her cleavage.
Suddenly Mr. Travers circled the wagon, angrily grabbed Jared by the shoulders, and hauled him off her.
“Lockett! My God, man, you’re an animal.”
The animal seemed oblivious to the insult as he slumped once more against the wagon, a stupid grin on his face.
A Mexican man came running from the back of the house to lend his assistance as the front door opened and a woman stepped onto the porch.
Lauren’s head was spinning. Things were happening too quickly, and she couldn’t take them all in. She wanted to see Ben and rely on his sturdy presence to restore some measure of sanity to this situation. Hurriedly she shrugged into her jacket before facing the woman who stood on the edge of the porch looking down at her.
Lauren smiled shyly and walked through the iron gate and up the sidewalk. She halted in front of the bottom step and looked up at the woman. Instinct warned her she should go no further. The figure at the top of the steps had the aspect of a sentinel protecting an inviolable domain.
“Mrs. Lockett, I’ve brought—”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Travers,” Olivia Lockett sharply interrupted the man. “Can you find accommodations for the night? We will compensate you, of course, for your time and trouble.”
Ed Travers was being dismissed, and he knew it. He nodded his silent acquiescence but didn’t leave Lauren’s side.
“You are Miss Holbrook,” Olivia said.
The statement was clipped, and Lauren answered with like brevity, “Yes, Lauren Holbrook.”
The woman appeared to be slightly taller than Lauren. Her hair was dark but, around her face, it was streaked most attractively with silver. She was slender, but held herself straight and rigid. This militant stance made her seem larger than she was. Her face was unlined; her complexion was olive. It was impossible to see the color of her eyes in the poor light, but Lauren was uncomfortably aware of their hawklike penetration.
She wore a green dress of some stiff fabric, and it would have been incongruous with her character to see one wrinkle, one piece of lint, any flaw that would mar her impeccability. Because of her disheveled appearance, Lauren felt at a distinct disadvantage. The woman’s face betrayed neither approval nor disapproval of her guest.
“I’m Olivia Lockett. I trust your trip was uneventful.” She didn’t wait for a reply but continued in the same crisp tone, “I think you may have made the trip in vain, Miss Holbrook. I cannot conceive what my husband had in mind when he invited you here.”
Lauren was stunned by Olivia Lockett’s harsh words. Where was Ben? Obviously Mrs. Lockett had expected her. So why this instant hostility? She stammered, “I… I’m sure that if we could all sit down and talk about it, Ben would explain—”
“Is Jared all right, Pepe?” Olivia interrupted Lauren imperiously.
“Sí, Señora Lockett,” the man who had come to Jared’s aid answered her quickly, still supporting the younger man, who slumped against him unconsciously.
“He really got drunk last night, I guess,” Olivia said. Lauren thought she saw the hint of a smile in the corners of Olivia’s mouth, but then it was gone, and she was sure she had imagined it. What mother would be pleased to see her son in such a condition?
Continuing to ignore Lauren, Olivia addressed Pepe again. “Take Jared to the stable and sober him up.” Her tone was caustic. “Miss Holbrook, I’ll send someone out for your bags.”
Lauren took that to be the only invitation to enter the house she was likely to get. Where was Ben—at Keypoint? Why had he deserted her this way?
She lifted her skirt and climbed the steps until she was level with Olivia. The woman looked at her coldly, and a premonition of disaster coiled in Lauren’s stomach. She found the courage to say, “If you would summon Mr. Lockett, I’m sure—”
“That’s impossible, Miss Holbrook. My husband died early this morning.”
Chapter 3
Lauren was struck dumb. Was Olivia Lockett mad? The aristocratic face looking back at her with implacable eyes conveyed no emotion.
“That’s impossible,” Lauren breathed. The words were barely audible.
“I’m afraid it’s true, Miss Holbrook. He hasn’t been well for some time. He told me upon his return from New York that he had gone there to consult with a heart specialist.” She paused for a moment and looked toward her son who, still supported by Pepe, was disappearing around the corner of the house. “Last night, Ben and Jared argued. After Jared left, Ben had a seizure. He died this morning,” she repeated.
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. What was she going to do now? “I didn’t know anything about his illness. You must believe that, Mrs. Lockett.”
Olivia looked at Lauren closely and then said in the same brisk tones she had used to address Pepe, “We can discuss this another time. For the next few days, make yourself comfortable in your room. Elena will be assigned to you. I must ask you to stay to yourself as much as possible. It would be awkward to explain your being here at this difficult time. Do you understand?”
Lauren simply nodded.
Turning, she looked down at Ed Travers, who remained standing at the iron gate, holding his hat at his chest. His slack mouth and wide eyes revealed his astonishment at the news of Ben Lockett’s death.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Travers. You have been most kind,” Lauren called down to him.
The depot manager said humbly, “I’m always at your service, Miss Holbrook. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you have only to ask.” Travers raised his hands expressively as he spoke.
“Thank you,” Lauren mumbled.
“Mrs. Lockett, with your permission, I’ll help notify the public of Be—Mr. Lockett’s demise.”
“The funeral will be the day after tomorrow at two o’clock. Your help is always appreciated, Mr. Travers. As is your discretion.”
Her last words sounded almost like a threat. Ed Travers nodded and, replacing his bowler hat on his head, returned to the wagon.
Lauren followed Olivia into the house.
The impressions she drew from what brief glances of Ben’s home she was allowed were delightful ones. A wide foyer with rooms leading off either side of it ran the length of the house. The staircase was directly opposite the front door and, at the top, hallways extended in three directions.
Lauren and Olivia ascended the stairs, turned right, and passed down a long, well-lit hall with doors, probably opening into bedrooms, on either side. At the end of the hall, Olivia opened a door. Like all of the woodwork in the house, it was painted a pristine white. Lauren followed Olivia into the room and looked around the chamber in which she would be sequestered for the next few days.
Well, if I have to be imprisoned, this is a pleasant cell, she thought. The small room was one of the round ones she had seen from the front of the house. It was beautifully furnished. The floors were stained oak, relieved now and then by small throw rugs. An intricate ecru lace spread covered the full-sized, four-poster bed. The walls were papered with a pale yellow flower print that was subtle and tasteful. There were a dresser and washstand, a bookcase, a rocking chair, a round table next to the chair, and a smaller table at the bedside. Fresh flowers filled several vases scattered around the room and, though the windows were curtained now, Lauren knew the morning sun would flood the room with even more cheerfulness. Someone had planned on receiving her graciously.
“It’s lovely, Mrs. Lockett. Thank you.”
“Then you won’t mind staying in here for a few days until the funeral is over.”
; Lauren wanted to attend the funeral. But something in the woman’s manner clearly indicated that she would strenuously object to an appearance by Lauren.
“The bathroom is through there.” She indicated a door. “There’s a door on the other side of it, but it remains locked. You needn’t worry about anyone disturbing you.”
Or me disturbing anyone, Lauren thought.
“Elena will be here soon with your supper. If you need anything, ask her. She is solely responsible to you.” She was about to leave the room when Lauren halted her.
“Mrs. Lockett, I’m sorry about your husband. He was—”
“Yes,” Olivia broke in. “Goodnight, Miss Holbrook.”
* * *
Lauren sat down in the rocking chair and tried to absorb the events that had taken place since her arrival.
Ben Lockett dead? It wasn’t possible. For weeks, she had envisioned his kind face and heard his voice compelling her to come here. Now, he was dead, and her future was, at best, uncertain.
Having sat down, she realized how tired she was. The endless days and cramped nights on the trains, the rough, dusty drive from Austin, that horrible man sprawled in a drunken stupor even as his own father lay dead, and then the confrontation with Olivia. It was all too much. Lauren rested her head on the small pillow attached to the back of the rocking chair and fell into a deep sleep.
She was awakened by a persistent voice and someone shaking her arm. Go away, she thought. I don’t want to wake up, because something terrible has happened. I don’t want to remember.
The pest wouldn’t go away. Lauren awakened to meet the blackest, most liquid eyes she had ever seen. She took in the rest of the face. It was dark, smooth, unblemished, and beautiful. The smile was gentle and warm. The voice was soothing and sympathetic.
“Poor señorita. You are so tired that you fall asleep in the chair. With your hat on! No supper? No bath? Elena will help you, sí?”
