by Nora Roberts
“You’re a bit jumpy, Cat.” The devil himself could take lessons on smiling from Lucas McLean, she thought bitterly. “Do I make you nervous?”
His dark hair curled in a confused tangle around his lean face, and his eyes were dark and confident. It was the confidence, she told herself, that she cursed him for. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she tossed back. “I don’t recall you ever being one for morning hikes, Lucas. Have you developed a love of nature?”
“I’ve always had a fondness for nature.” He was studying her with deep, powerful eyes while his mouth curved into a smile. “I’ve always had a penchant for picnics.”
The pain started, a dull ache in her stomach. She could remember the gritty feel of sand under her legs, the tart taste of wine on her tongue and the scent of the ocean everywhere. She forced her gaze to stay level with his. “I lost my taste for them.” She turned in dismissal, but he fell into step beside her. “I’m not going straight back,” she informed him. The chill in her voice would have discouraged anyone else. Stopping, she took an off-center picture of a blue jay.
“I’m in no hurry,” he returned easily. “I’ve always enjoyed watching you work. It’s fascinating how absorbed you become.” He watched her back, and let his eyes run down the length of her hair. “I believe you could be snapping a charging rhino and not give an inch until you’d perfected the shot.” There was a slight pause as she remained turned away from him. “I saw that photo you took of a burned-out tenement in New York. It was remarkable. Hard, clean and desperate.”
Wary of the compliment, Autumn faced him. She knew Lucas wasn’t generous with praise. Hard, clean and desperate, she thought. He had chosen the words perfectly. She didn’t like discovering that his opinion still mattered. “Thank you.” She turned back to focus on a grouping of trees. “Still having trouble with your book?”
“More than I’d anticipated,” he muttered. Suddenly, he swooped her hair up into his hands. “I never could resist it, could I?” She continued to give her attention to the trees. Her answer was an absent shrug, but she squeezed her eyes tightly shut a moment. “I’ve never seen another woman with hair like yours. I’ve looked, God knows, but the shade is always wrong, or the texture or the length.” There was a seductive quality in his voice. Autumn stiffened against it. “It’s unique. A fiery waterfall in the sun, deep and vibrant spilling over a pillowcase.”
“You always had a gift for description.” She adjusted her lens without the vaguest idea of what she was doing. Her voice was detached, faintly bored, while she prayed for him to go. Instead, his grip tightened on her hair. In a swift move, he whirled her around and tore the camera from her hands.
“Damn it, don’t use that tone with me. Don’t turn your back on me. Don’t ever turn your back on me.”
She remembered the dark expression and uncertain temper well. There’d been a time when she would have dissolved when faced with them. But not anymore, she thought fleetingly. Not this time.
“I don’t cringe at being sworn at these days, Lucas.” She tossed her head, lifting her chin. “Why don’t you save your attention for Julia? I don’t want it.”
“So.” His smile was light and amused in a rapid-fire change. “It was you. No need to be jealous, Cat. The lady made the move, not I.”
“Yes, I noticed your mad struggle for release.” Even as she spoke, she regretted the words. Annoyed, Autumn pushed away, but was only caught closer. His scent teased her senses and reminded her of things she’d rather forget. “Listen, Lucas,” she ground out slowly as both anger and longing rose inside her. “It took me six months to realize what a bastard you are, and I’ve had three years to cement that realization. I’m a big girl now, and not susceptible to your abundant charms. Now, take your hands off me and get lost.”
“Learned to sink your teeth in, have you, Cat?” To her mounting fury, his expression was more amused than insulted. His eyes lowered to her mouth for a moment, lingered then lifted. “Not malleable anymore, but just as fascinating.”
Because his words hurt more than she had thought possible, she hurled a stream of abuse at him.
His laughter cut off her torrent like a slap. Abandoning verbal protest, Autumn began to struggle with a wild, furious rage. Abruptly, he molded her against him. Tasting of punishment and possession, his mouth found hers. The heat was blinding.
The old, churning need fought its way to the surface. For three years she had starved, and now all that hunger spilled out in response. There was no hesitation as her arms found their way around his neck. Eager for more, her lips parted. His mouth was urgent and bruising. The pain was like heaven, and she begged for more. Her blood was flowing again. Lucas let his mouth roam over her face, then come back to hers with new demands. Autumn met them and fretted for more. Time flew backward, then forward again before he lifted his face.
His eyes were incredibly dark, opaque with a passion she recognized. For the first time she felt the faint throbbing where his hands gripped her and his hold eased to a caress. The taste of him lingered on her lips.
“It’s still there, Cat,” Lucas murmured. With easy familiarity, he combed his fingers through her hair. “Still there.”
All at once, pain and humiliation coursed through her. She pulled away fiercely and swung out a hand. He caught her wrist and, frustrated, she drew back with her other hand. His reflexes were too sharp, and she was denied any satisfaction. With both wrists captured, she could only stand struggling, her breath ragged. Tears burned at her throat, but she refused to acknowledge them. He won’t make me cry, she vowed fiercely. He won’t see me cry again.
In silence, Lucas watched her battle for control. There was no sound in the forest but Autumn’s own jerking breaths. When she could speak, her voice was hard and cold. “There’s a difference between love and lust, Lucas. Even you should know one from the other. What’s there now may be the same for you, but not for me. I loved you. I loved you.” The words were an accusation in their repetition. His brows drew together as his gaze grew intense. “You took it all once—my love, my innocence, my pride—then you tossed them back in my face. You can’t have them back. The first is dead, the second’s gone and the third belongs to me.”
For a moment, they both were still. Slowly, without taking his eyes from hers, Lucas released her wrists. He didn’t speak, and his expression told her nothing. Refusing to run from him a second time, Autumn turned and walked away. Only when she was certain he wasn’t following did she allow her tears their freedom. Her statements about pride and innocence had been true. But her love was far from dead. It was alive, and it hurt.
As the red bricks of the inn came into view, Autumn dashed the drops away. There would be no wallowing in what was over. Loving Lucas changed nothing, any more than it had changed anything three years before. But she’d changed. He wouldn’t find her weeping, helpless and—as he had said himself—malleable.
Disillusionment had given her strength. He could still hurt her. She’d learned that quickly. But he could no longer manipulate her as he had once. Still, the encounter with him had left her shaken, and she wasn’t pleased when Helen approached from a path to the right.
It was impossible, without being pointedly rude, for Autumn to veer off and avoid her. Instead, she fixed a smile on her face. When Helen turned her head, the livid bruise under her eye became noticeable. Autumn’s smile faded into quick concern.
“What happened?” The bruise looked painful and aroused Autumn’s sympathy.
“I walked into a branch.” Helen gave a careless shrug as she lifted her fingers to stroke the mark. “I’ll have to be more careful in the future.”
Perhaps it was her turmoil over Lucas that made Autumn detect some hidden shade of meaning in those words, but Helen seemed to mean more than she said. Certainly the eyes which met Autumn’s were as hot and angry as the bruise. And the mark itself, Autumn mused, looked more like the result of contact with a violent hand than with any stray branch. She pushed the thought a
side. Who would have struck Helen? she asked herself. And why would she cover up the abuse? Her own carelessness made more sense.
“It looks nasty,” Autumn commented as they began to walk toward the inn. “You’ll have to do something about it. Aunt Tabby should have something to ease the soreness.”
“Oh, I intend to do something about it,” Helen muttered, then gave Autumn her sharp-eyed smile. “I know just the thing. Out early taking pictures?” she asked while Autumn tried to ignore the unease her words brought. “I’ve always found people more interesting subjects than trees. I’m especially fond of candid shots.” She began to laugh at some private joke. It was the first time Autumn had heard her laugh, and she thought how suited the sound was to Helen’s smile. They were both unpleasant.
“Were you down at the lake earlier?” Autumn recalled the two figures she had spotted. To her surprise, Helen’s laughter stopped abruptly. Her eyes grew sharper.
“Did you see someone?”
“No,” she began, confused by the harshness of the question. “Not exactly. I saw two people by the lake, but I was too far away to see who they were. I was taking pictures from the ridge.”
“Taking pictures,” Helen repeated. Her mouth pursed as if she were considering something carefully. She began to laugh again with a harsh burst of sound.
“Well, well, such good humor for such early risers.” Julia drifted down the porch steps. Her brow lifted as she studied Helen’s cheek. Autumn wondered if the actress’s shudder was real or affected. “Good heavens, what have you done to yourself?”
Helen’s amusement seemed to have passed. She gave Julia a quick scowl, then fingered the bruise again. “Walked into a branch,” she muttered before she stalked up the steps and disappeared inside.
“A fist more likely,” Julia commented, and smiled. With a shrug, she dismissed Helen and turned to Autumn. “The call of the wild beckoned to you, too? It seems everyone but me was tramping through forests and over mountains at the cold light of dawn. It’s so difficult being sane when one is surrounded by insanity.”
Autumn had to smile. Julia looked like a sunbeam. In direct contrast to her own rough jeans and jacket, Julia wore delicate pink slacks and a thin silk blouse flocked with roses. The white sandals she wore wouldn’t last fifty yards in the woods. Whatever resentment Autumn had felt for the actress attracting Lucas vanished under her open warmth.
“There are some,” Autumn remarked mildly, “who might accuse you of laziness.”
“Absolutely,” Julia agreed with a nod and a smile. “When I’m not working, I wallow in sloth. If I don’t get going again soon, my blood will stop flowing.” She gave Autumn a shrewd glance. “Looks like you walked into a rather large branch yourself.”
Bewilderment crossed Autumn’s face briefly. Julia’s eyes, she discovered, were very discerning. The traces of tears hadn’t evaporated as completely as Autumn would have liked. Helplessly she moved her shoulders. “I heal quickly.”
“Brave child. Come, tell mama all about it.” Julia’s eyes were sympathetic, balancing the stinging lightness of the words. Linking her arms through Autumn’s, she began to walk across the lawn.
“Julia . . .” Autumn shook her head. Inner feelings were private. She’d broken the rule for Lucas, and wasn’t certain she could do so again.
“Autumn.” The refusal was firmly interrupted. “You do need to talk. You might not think that you look stricken, but you do.” Julia sighed with perfect finesse. “I really don’t know why I’ve become so fond of you; it’s totally against my policy. Beautiful women tend to avoid or dislike other beautiful women, especially younger ones.”
The statement completely robbed Autumn of speech. The idea of the exquisite, incomparable Julia Bond placing herself on a physical plane anywhere near Autumn’s own seemed ludicrous to her. It was one matter to hear the actress speak casually of her own beauty, and quite another for her to speak of Autumn’s. Julia’s voice flowed over the gaping silence.
“Maybe it’s the exposure to those two other females—one so dull and the other so nasty—but I’ve developed an affection for you.” The breeze tugged at her hair, lifting it up so that the sunlight streamed through it. Absently, Julia tucked a strand behind her ear. On the lobe a diamond sparkled. Autumn thought it incongruous that they were walking arm in arm among her aunt’s struggling daffodils.
“You’re also a kind person,” Julia went on. “I don’t know a great many kind people.” She turned to Autumn so that her exquisite profile became her exquisite full face. “Autumn, darling, I always pry, but I also know how to keep a confidence.”
“I’m still in love with him,” Autumn blurted out, then followed that rash statement with a deep sigh. Before she knew it, words were tumbling out. She left out nothing, from the beginning to the end, to the new beginning when he had come back into her life the day before. She told Julia everything. Once she’d begun, no effort was needed. She didn’t have to think, only feel, and Julia listened. The quality of her listening was so perfect, Autumn all but forgot she was there.
“The monster,” Julia said, but with no malice. “You’ll find all men, those marvelous creatures, are basically monsters.”
Who was Autumn to argue with an expert? As they walked on in silence, she realized that she did feel better. The rawness was gone.
“The main trouble is, of course, that you’re still mad about him. Not that I blame you,” Julia added when Autumn made a small sound of distress. “Lucas is quite a man. I had a tiny sample last night, and I was impressed.” Julia spoke so casually of the passion Autumn had witnessed, it was impossible to be angry. “Lucas is a talented man,” Julia went on. By her smile, Autumn knew that Julia was very much aware of the struggle that was going on within Autumn. “He’s also arrogant, selfish and used to being obeyed. It’s easy for me to see that, because I am, too. We’re alike. I doubt very much if we could even enjoy a pleasant affair. We’d be clawing at each other before the bed was turned down.”
Autumn found no response to make to the image this produced, and merely walked on.
“Jacques is more my type,” Julia mused. “But his attentions are committed elsewhere.” She frowned, and Autumn sensed that her thoughts had drifted to something quite different. “Anyway.” Julia made an impatient gesture. “You just have to make up your mind what you want. Obviously, Lucas wants you back, at least for as long as it suits him.”
Autumn tried to ignore the sting of honesty and just listened.
“Knowing that, you could enjoy a stimulating relationship with him, with your eyes open.”
“I can’t do that, Julia. The knowing won’t stop the hurting. I’m not sure I can survive another . . . relationship with Lucas. And he’d know I was still in love with him.” A flash frame of their parting scene three years before jumped into her mind. “I won’t be humiliated again. Pride’s the only thing I have left that isn’t his already.”
“Love and pride don’t belong together.” Julia patted Autumn’s hand. “Well then, you’ll have to barricade yourself against the assault. I’ll run interference for you.”
“How will you do that?”
“Darling!” She lifted her brow as the slow, cat smile drifted to her lips.
Autumn had to laugh. It all seemed so absurd. She lifted her face to the sky. The black clouds were winning after all. For a moment, they blotted out the sun and warmth. “Looks like rain.”
Her gaze shifted back to the inn. The windows were black and empty. The struggling light fell gloomily over the bricks and turned the white porch and shutters gray. Behind the building, the sky was like slate. The mountains were colorless and oppressive. She felt a tickle at the back of her neck. To her puzzlement, Autumn found she didn’t want to go back inside.
Just as quickly, the clouds shifted, letting the sun pour out through the opening. The windows blinked with light. The shadows vanished. Chiding herself for another flight of fancy, Autumn walked back to the inn with Julia.
Jacques seemed preoccupied. His charm was costing him visible effort. Memory of the muffled argument in the lounge came to Autumn’s mind. Idly, she began to speculate on who he had been annoyed with. Thinking it over, the entire matter struck her as odd. Jacques LeFarre didn’t seem to be the sort of man who would argue with a veritable stranger, yet, as Autumn knew, both Lucas and Julia had been preoccupied elsewhere.
Appearing totally at ease, Julia rambled on about a mutual friend in the industry. But she’s an actress, Autumn reminded herself. A good one. She could easily know the cause of last night’s animosity and never show a sign. Jacques, however, wasn’t an actor. The distress was there; anger lay just beneath the polished charm. Autumn wondered at it throughout the meal, then dismissed it from her mind as she left to find her aunt. After all, she reflected, it wasn’t any of her business.
Aunt Tabby was, as Autumn had known she would be, fussing with Nancy the cook over the day’s menu. Keeping silent, Autumn let the story unfold. It seemed that Nancy had planned on chicken while Aunt Tabby was certain they had decided on pork. While the argument raged, Autumn helped herself to another cup of coffee. Through the window, she could see the thick, roiling clouds continue their roll from the west.
“Oh, Autumn, did you have a nice walk?” When she turned, Autumn found her aunt smiling at her. “Such a nice morning, a shame it’s going to rain. But that’s good for the flowers, isn’t it? Sweet little things. Did you sleep well?”
After a moment, Autumn decided to answer only the final question. There was no use confusing her aunt. “Wonderfully, Aunt Tabby. I always sleep well when I visit you.”
“It’s the air,” the woman replied. Her round little face lit with pleasure. “I think I’ll make my special chocolate cake for tonight. That should make up for the rain.”
“Any hot coffee, Aunt Tabby?” Lucas swept into the kitchen as if he enjoyed the privilege daily. As always, when he came into a room, the air charged. This phenomenon Autumn could accept. The casual use of her aunt’s nickname was more perplexing.
“Of course, dear, just help yourself.” Aunt Tabby gestured vaguely toward the stove, her mind on chocolate cake. Autumn’s confusion grew as Lucas strode directly to the proper cupboard, retrieved a cup and proceeded to fix himself a very homey cup of coffee.
He drank, leaning against the counter. The eyes that met Autumn’s were very cool. All traces of anger and passion were gone, as if they had never existed. His rough black brows lifted as she continued to stare. The damnable devil smile tugged at his mouth.
“Oh, is that your camera, dear?” Aunt Tabby’s voice broke into her thoughts. Autumn lowered her eyes.
The camera still hung around her neck, so much a part of her that she’d forgotten it was there.
