by Sandra Brown
“Lauren, you make the evening glow. How are you, my dear?” Carson came to her and kissed her cheek.
She watched Jared over Carson’s shoulder. His back stiffened and he took a long gulp of whiskey before he turned around. He is so handsome, she thought mournfully. She could bear his indifference and cruelty, his desertion, if he were ugly or repellent to her. But from the first she had felt a strange chemical attraction to this man.
He met her eyes over Carson’s pudgy form and lifted his glass in a mocking salute.
“Jared, would you pour Lauren a sherry, please, and I’ll have another.” Lauren noticed that Olivia’s eyes were especially brilliant. The news that Jared had brought from Austin must have pleased her.
“I’m so glad the Vandivers are coming for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Thank you for delivering my invitation, Jared.” Olivia watched closely as Jared handed Lauren her glass of sherry.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. He looked down at Lauren from his towering height as she took the drink. Their fingers touched briefly. The contact was electrifying and she thought she heard his breath rush past his teeth in a soft gasp. But as her eyes traveled up the long body to meet his glowing eyes, she saw them frost over immediately.
“I knew Lauren would want to see Kurt again. It’s been such a long time.” The slurring words were said low and for her hearing only. Why was he doing this again? He was as arrogant and hateful as the first night she had seen him in this room.
All her excitement at seeing him drained away as dinner dragged on interminably. Jared drank more than he ate. What had happened to the healthy appetite that couldn’t be appeased at Keypoint? Maria and Gloria were always teasing him about his hollow leg.
He was sullen and erratic. One minute he was strenuously criticizing the Railroad Commission and their ineptitude, and the next minute, he was muttering into his glass.
Lauren went into the library to read by the fire after dinner. She had stood all the tension she could in one evening. The others retired to the office to discuss the results of Jared’s trip to the capital.
Hours later, Lauren was still in the library, seated in an overstuffed chair with her shoes lying on the hearth and her feet curled up under her legs.
She didn’t know how long he had been there before she noticed Jared standing in the doorway. When she looked up at him, he stumbled wearily into the room and collapsed into the twin chair beside hers. His head fell back against the plump cushions and he closed his eyes. Lauren sat still. As the minutes ticked by, she thought that he must have fallen asleep, but eventually he opened his eyes, though he didn’t move his head or body.
“It’s awfully late, Lauren. Why are you still up?” He sounded exhausted.
“I got absorbed in my book. Sometimes I can read well into the night if a book is particularly interesting.” Or if I can’t get you off my mind, she added to herself.
She looked like a vision in the firelight. Its shimmer caught on the black hair and seemed to ignite each strand. Her dress was a soft rose wool with pearl buttons at the neck. With the firelight, it enhanced the enticing blush on her cheeks, which he knew were velvet-soft. Behind her eyeglasses, her eyes were wide and deep and clear.
Jared cleared his throat, rousing himself from his perusal. “What do you read? You are quite a bookworm, you know,” he teased softly.
“Everything,” she said lightly, indulging his need for small talk. “Books were my best friends when I was growing up. Other children didn’t want to play with the minister’s daughter. It made them uncomfortable, you see. My mother died when I was three.” He noticed her reach up and touch her watch. “So my friends were the characters I found in print. I read the classics, history, and philosophy. But for fun, I like Dickens, the Brontës, and Jane Austen.”
His eyes were closed again, and it surprised her when he picked up the conversation. “When I was a boy, I was enthralled with Poe. Ben used to rile me about reading such ‘rubbish,’ as he called it. ‘If you want to hear ghost stories, have Thorn tell you some.’ Thorn’s were pretty good, too.” He laughed. “He used to raise the hair on my neck telling me about Indian legends, taboos, and secret rites.” He stared reflectively into the fire, the flames dancing in his amber eyes. Putting his thumb and middle finger against his lids, he rubbed them in fatigue. “I don’t have time to read anymore.”
She hesitated only a moment before asking gently, “Was your trip a taxing one?”
He sighed heavily. “Yes. Some of the men in public office are frighteningly stupid. I’m sick to death of having to pander to them. I want…”
When he didn’t continue, she urged him softly. “Yes. You want…?”
It was the only prodding he needed to voice his innermost thoughts. “I want the railroad because it’s the only way we can operate a successful, profitable ranch in the twentieth century. Ben wanted it so bad he could taste it, but I hate having to go through so much red tape and catering to idiots in order to get it.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees.
Lauren remained quiet. This was a time for listening.
“I want to live on Keypoint and ride the fences like any other vaquero and let someone else do all of this politicking.”
Lauren swallowed her caution, stood, and went to him timorously. She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and massaged the knotted, tense muscles. “Maybe when the railroad is finished, you can do that, Jared. I hope so, for your sake.”
He leaned back in the chair again, noticeably relaxing under the magic touch of her fingers. After a few moments, she said, “Thank you for the scarf. It’s lovely.”
He looked up at her standing behind him. His eyes were tired and bloodshot, but he read the encouragement and compassion in hers as she smiled down at him. He covered one small hand on his shoulder with his, then grasped it and squeezed tightly. He brought it up to his face and pressed her palm against his hard cheek.
“Your hands are beautiful, Lauren. I noticed—” He broke off, feeling that he was probably making a fool of himself, but then went on, “I noticed them that first night we were at dinner together.” His fingers smoothed down her slender counterparts.
“If they are, it’s from hours at the piano, I suppose. My father once told me my hands were like my mother’s. She played, too.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes,” she admitted readily. “I suppose my music is for me what riding the line is for you.”
He studied the hand in his with the appreciation of an art connoisseur for a masterpiece. Bringing it back to his mouth his tongue brushed each fingertip. Lauren’s eyes closed.
His lips moved to her wrist, and when her ruffled cuff obstructed him, his thumb slipped between the buttons and buttonholes and laid bare her translucent skin.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured as his lips caressed her wrist. “You make everything seem so uncomplicated, so…” His words trailed off as he buried his lips in the soft cushion of her palm. Her heart fluttered erratically when she felt the moist warmth of his tongue sliding sensuously over her flesh.
He raised his hand and trailed a finger down her cheek as his eyes traveled her face beseechingly. “Lauren, I—”
“Jared.” Whatever he was going to say was arrested by Olivia’s imperious interruption. “Carson is waiting to go over that last group of figures before we call it a night. Lauren, dear, there’s no need for you to wait up.”
Jared’s mouth tensed into a thin, hard line and the muscles of his face became rigid as he pushed himself out of the chair and strode from the room.
Lauren retrieved her shoes and her book and, after turning off the lamp, faced the door. Olivia’s tall figure was still silhouetted in the doorway. As Lauren came closer, she saw that one of Olivia’s black eyebrows was raised speculatively.
“Goodnight, Lauren,” she said coldly.
“Goodnight.” As she mounted the stairs, Lauren could feel her mother-in-law’s piercing eyes boring into he
r back.
* * *
Lauren went down to the kitchen the following morning to ask if she could help Rosa with her preparations for the Thanksgiving meal. She was assured that things were well underway. Elena was sorting laundry at a work table. When Lauren was about to leave the kitchen, she offered to take her things upstairs and save the girl the steps.
“I’ll take Jared’s things, too,” she offered as Elena piled her arms with fresh-smelling clothes. The stiff, starched white dress shirts and the soft-colored ones Jared wore on the trail were added to Lauren’s load.
She went up the stairs quickly and tapped on Jared’s door. There was no response. She was about to call out to him, when she heard splashing sounds coming from one of the bathrooms down the hallway. To her knowledge, he had never used the bathroom that connected their rooms.
Indecisively she stood outside his slightly opened door. What could it hurt? she asked herself as she eased the door ajar far enough for her to slip inside.
The room was simply furnished. A bed with a tall oak headboard occupied one wall. A massive wardrobe filled another. A bureau, complete with shaving mirror, washbowl, and pitcher, stood in the corner. The only other piece of furniture was a tall wing chair.
The brown striped curtains at the window had been pushed aside to let in the sunlight. The bed had been neatly made with a spread that matched the curtains. There was no sign of disorder around her as she crossed the decidedly masculine room toward the bureau. She carefully lowered the stack of shirts onto its glossy surface and was turning to leave when something caught her eye.
Apparently Jared had emptied his pockets onto the top of the bureau the night before. She studied the items curiously. A tortoiseshell pocket comb. Did he ever use it? she asked herself with a fond smile. Coins of every denomination. A roll of bills. She recognized his pocket watch with its gold chain. Three pieces of paper, doubtless receipts of some kind, each folded neatly in two. A key ring with six brass keys. A tiny box of matches. And—
Her heart stopped for a moment. When it started again, it beat so rapidly that she covered it with her hand, enfolding her watch in trembling fingers.
There, winding its way through the other items, glaringly out of place, was a slender, blue satin ribbon. A ribbon much like the ones which laced through the chemises that Mrs. Gibbons had made for her before her wedding. Much like the one she had lost only a few weeks ago, the night Jared had undressed her and put her to bed.
She didn’t know she had spoken his name until the soft, wondering whisper vibrated through the still room and jarred her out of her stupor. Just as well it did, for she heard the bathroom door down the hall opening. Spinning around, she stared at the door through which he would walk any moment. She mustn’t let him see her!
She dashed toward the door opening into the bathroom connecting to her room and pulled it open. She had just closed it after her when she heard him enter his room. He was humming softly, quite unaware that he had caused an emotional avalanche in the breast of his young wife.
Chapter 16
Olivia, your bountiful table never ceases to amaze me,” beamed Parker Vandiver. He had eaten several helpings of traditional Thanksgiving food, and was enjoying one last glass of wine.
They were sitting at the table in the same arrangement as on the first occasion the Vandivers had taken a meal with the Locketts. Olivia and Carson sat at either end, Parker and Jared on one side, Lauren and Kurt on the other.
“Yes,” Kurt chimed in. “Everything was delicious, made even more enjoyable by the beautiful company.”
The hand wrapped around Jared’s wineglass clenched, the knuckles turned white, and Lauren was amazed that the glass didn’t shatter under the pressure.
She moved away from Kurt, his presence at her side becoming more unbearable each minute. Since they had taken their chairs at the table, his thick, heavy thigh had pressed against hers, and he used every opportunity to lean toward her, touching her in some way.
She hadn’t lost her aversion for the Vandivers. Both father and son repelled her with the brutal strength apparent in each move of their husky bodies. Their polite conversation and demeanor, she was sure, stemmed from some secret ulterior motive.
She was grateful to Carson when he suggested they retire to the parlor for coffee, thereby relieving her of sitting next to Kurt.
“We were sorry we missed you when we visited Keypoint, Mrs. Lockett,” Kurt said as everyone was seated in the formal room. Lauren had taken a chair next to the fireplace, forsaking the couches for fear that Kurt would sit beside her.
Lauren didn’t want to lie and say she was sorry she had missed seeing them, too. Not knowing what else to say, she replied truthfully, “Jared and I went on an outing that day.”
No one noticed Olivia’s shocked face, for Jared was saying caustically, “It was our honeymoon, remember?”
Kurt maintained his poise. “Yes, so it was. Did you like life on the ranch, Mrs. Lockett?”
“It was a different experience for me, Mr. Vandiver. I enjoyed the uniqueness of it.” While she responded to Kurt’s question, she was remembering the night before with a pang of wistfulness. She had felt so close to her husband for the first time. What had happened since then to make him cold and unapproachable? Because it was a holiday, she had worn a new dress in a violet-gray shade of georgette, knowing that the color highlighted her eyes. If Jared had taken note of her appearance, he hadn’t deigned to comment.
“You obviously like ranching, Jared.” Parker studied him shrewdly.
“Yes,” Jared retorted shortly and went to the sideboard. He poured a large glass of whiskey and walked to the wide windows, staring outside, his attitude one of total indifference to the rest of them. Yet all through dinner, his mood had been one of constrained violence, and Lauren was apprehensive.
“I’ve never had the time to learn the ins and outs of ranching. Maybe you could teach me all about it sometime, Jared.”
Jared took a swallow of his drink. “I’ve never had time for the ins and outs of school teaching, Mr. Vandiver. If you want to learn about ranching, I suggest you learn the way everyone else does—by trial and error. That’s the way Ben did, and it seemed to work for him.” He turned on his heels and fixed Parker with a menacing stare. “And learn to ranch some place other than Keypoint,” he warned.
“Jared, how rude!” Olivia chided him. “We’re business partners with the Vandivers now.” She smiled reassuringly at Parker.
“Not in ranching we’re not.” Jared tossed down the last of the whiskey and turned to the window, putting his back to them again.
An awkward silence descended over the room. Olivia fidgeted with her coffee cup. Carson covered a pretend yawn. Lauren looked bleakly at Jared. She knew he felt that Keypoint, his true love, was threatened by these unscrupulous men.
“I, for one, am looking forward to the groundbreaking ceremonies,” Carson interjected heartily. “We’ve arranged festivities for the entire population to enjoy. It should be quite a celebration.”
“That’s the spirit, Carson,” Parker agreed. “We want the townspeople to know that this railroad is something they can all be proud of.”
“Will you be going to the ceremonies, Mrs. Lockett?” Kurt asked.
Lauren floundered. “Well, I suppose so.” Then she added, “With my husband, of course.”
No one had a rejoinder to that, so silence descended again.
“I would love a game of bridge. Would anyone else be interested?” Olivia’s green eyes sparkled, and she looked younger and gayer than Lauren had ever seen her. She must have stopped the heart of many a New Orleans blade when she turned on the charm.
“That would be wonderful. Lauren, would you be my partner?” Kurt walked over to her and extended his beefy hand. Loath to touch it, Lauren shrank from him. And when had he started calling her by her first name?
With a broad yawn, Carson said, “Go ahead, Lauren. Olivia will play with Parker. I dislike bridge mysel
f.” He walked toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “I’m going into the library for a nap. Wake me when the game is over.”
Lauren looked helplessly toward Jared as he stormed out of the room without speaking to anyone.
Olivia smiled to herself. She hated to admit to a flash of concern when Lauren had mentioned their “outing.” Surely Jared was smart enough not to get involved with the chit any more than necessary. But if he wasn’t, Olivia planned to make such an involvement difficult, if not entirely impossible.
They gathered around the game table in the corner of the room and the rubber was soon started. Lauren was able to go through the motions without concentrating too hard. Her mind was on Jared and his whereabouts. She didn’t think he had left the house. What was he doing?
The rubber went on for hours. Carson eventually joined them and, diplomatically, cheered first one team and then the other.
When Rosa announced a cold buffet had been laid out in the dining room, everyone protested but strolled into the room and began filling their plates with leftover turkey, salad, and relishes. Olivia asked Rosa to fetch Jared.
They moved back into the parlor toting their plates. Lauren sat on one of the small couches in the shadows of the room. Realizing her mistake too late to move, she saw Kurt striding over to her.
“You didn’t get much to eat, Lauren,” he said as he sat close beside her.
She murmured, “I’m not very hungry.” His looming closeness would have taken away any appetite she might have had.
“You didn’t get any of the pickled peppers. Here, try one.” He lifted one of the peppers from his plate and offered it to her.
She remembered vividly the first night she spent in Coronado and the innocent-looking tomatoes garnishing the beans. “No, thank you. I don’t like them.” She shook her head.
“This isn’t one of the hot variety. It’s very mild. Look.” He bit into the pepper and chewed it slowly and deliberately to show her that he suffered no ill effects. “Come on, Lauren.”
