by Jeanne Allan
She tossed her covers aside, grumbling inwardly. That was the trouble with being raised by parents who believed in duty and responsibility, no matter how unpleasant. Her image in the mirror scowled back at her. Clay would no doubt be thrilled to be joined in bed by a icy-footed, reluctant wife who was dressed like someone's grandmother. She started towards her bedroom door. No, darn it. If she had to face the firing squad, she'd do it with her head held high.
Hidden deep in one of the drawers was the perfect nightgown. She lifted out the filmy wisp of flame-red. Alanna had spotted the negligee in Garfinckel's on one of her visits back to Virginia to see Dallas. She'd insisted on buying it for Dallas in spite of Dallas's protests that she'd never have occasion to wear such an expensive, provocative gown.
The gown had been tucked away unworn. Until now. Dallas quickly slipped the silky fabric over her head—a perfect fit. Not that there was much fabric to fit. Brushing her hair over her shoulders, she debated about wearing her robe. Goose-bumps were hardly seductive, but then, neither was chenille. In the end she left the robe and her furry slippers behind.
Light showed from beneath Clay's door as she moved quietly across the hall. The small sounds coming from his room ceased the instant Dallas knocked. Her knuckles were still in contact with the door when Clay pulled it open. The toothbrush in his hand made her want to giggle. The sight of his chest, bared to the waist by a loose-hanging, unbuttoned shirt, drained the stiffening from her knees. She struck a sultry pose against the door-jamb, as much for support as for theatrical effect.
Clay's mouth twitched. 'Something I can do for you?'
'Yes.' Had his voice always been that deep? And that gleam in his eyes… She moved one hand from behind her and toyed nervously with the ribbon tied beneath her breasts. 'I thought maybe… that is… it seemed to me…' Her voice died away as Clay's gaze took in what she was wearing, and his face seemed to freeze before her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. 'I'm trying to tell you that I'm willing—'
'So I see. I'm not.'
His clipped rejection smacked her across the face, the blood racing to her cheeks. Confused by his words and tone, she stammered, 'But—but…you said…I—I thought you w-wanted…'
'A duty visit?' Clay sneered. 'Is that what you thought I wanted? I backed you today so you're going to repay me by sacrificing yourself on the altar of obligation. Is that it?'
Dallas shook her head under the unexpected barrage of angry words. 'N-not exactly. I—I thought, that is…'
'You thought I'd be grateful if you tarted yourself up and appeared at my door. What was I supposed to do? Fall at your feet and worship them?'
'No. Just warm them.' Her small attempt at humour fell flat as Clay's eyes narrowed.
'Try slippers.' His eyes sliced over her. 'Why are you wearing Alanna's gown? Is this some new diabolic punishment you've come up with? Or are you wearing a dead woman's clothes to shame me into increasing your allowance?'
'Allowance!' she cried, momentarily side-tracked. 'I'm not your teenage daughter, I'm your wife. Whether you want me or not.' She threw back her head, her gaze locking defiantly with his. 'And this happens to be my nightgown.'
'Don't lie to me.' Clay grabbed her arm, pulling her close to his body. 'I've seen Alanna wearing it.'
'This isn't Alanna's,' Dallas protested. Then she remembered that Alanna had purchased a twin of the negligee for herself. 'She had one like it,' she said, struggling to free herself from Clay's grasp. Suddenly his words penetrated her anger and she stared up at him suspiciously. 'How do you know that Alanna had a gown like this? When did you see it on her? It's hardly a garment she'd wear to the breakfast table.'
Clay's face went blank, his body froze. 'Leave the past alone, Dallas. It has nothing to do with you.' His hand dropped from her arm. 'You're shivering. Go back to bed.' He pointedly held the edge of the door.
Dallas fled for the sanctuary of her room. How dared Clay treat her like that? How dared he taunt her with refusing to share his bed and then, when she consented to do so—grudgingly…? It wasn't as if she had the slightest desire to sleep with him…
Admittedly, there had been a moment when she'd forgotten that theirs was not a match kindled by desire. Maybe she had been the tiniest bit curious to see if Clay's skin felt as silky as it looked… The way he'd flaunted that mat of chest hair that thinned as it dipped towards his belly before disappearing beneath the band of his trousers…
The memory sent a heated flush over her body, and she restlessly kicked aside her covers, despising her weakness. Much better to remember the contempt in Clay's eyes as he'd dismissed her. His cruel accusations. Anger, humiliation and horror warred with each other within her breast. All overlaid with a sense of sorrow and loss. An enormous chasm opened at her feet, a chasm that separated her from her husband. Would they ever be able to bridge it? The dark blanket of night smothered her beneath its oppressive folds.
Clay came into the kitchen the next morning as Dallas was making breakfast for herself and Nicky. Normally he ate with Sara and her early-rising husband at their place. 'Want some?' Dallas asked, pinning a bright smile on her face and pointing to the porridge. She had no desire to rehash the events of the previous evening.
'I already ate. Last night—'
'Was a mistake. It won't happen again. Drink your juice, Nicky, or we won't get to the corner in time for the school bus.'
'My tummy hurts,' Nicky complained.
'Maybe she'd better stay home today,' Clay said.
'I may be stupid about some things,' Dallas said, 'but I'm right about this.' She set a bowl of warm cereal before the small girl. 'I know you're worried, but you've always liked taking the bus before. And I'll be at the corner to meet the bus when you get home.'
'I just wanted to say that—' Clay began.
'That you understand riding the school bus after all this time might be a little scary. So do I, but Nicky knows that I can't drive her all the way to town every day.' She squeezed Nicky's shoulder in passing.
'I'll take her in if you're busy,' Clay said.
'That's not the point,' she said, glaring at him. Forcing a smile to her face, she said to Nicky, 'When you come home we can talk about what kind of day you had, but now you need to eat fast. Time's awasting.'
'If Mama was here, she'd drive me,' Nicky said.
'Your mama would agree with me,' Dallas said.
'Dallas. Listen to me,' Clay said. 'You took me by surprise.'
'Then we were both surprised. Now run upstairs and brush your teeth, Nicky, and no dawdling.' Dallas turned on Clay the minute the child was out of hearing. 'Are you deliberately trying to sabotage my efforts to help Nicky resume a normal life?'
'I was trying to help. I can't imagine why I thought you might want my help. I guess it slipped my mind that you know all the answers.'
'That's right. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to drive Nicky to the school bus.'
'Damn it, Dallas, I came in here to apologise for last night.'
'How foolish of me not to recognise that. I assumed you merely wanted to point out more of my shortcomings.'
Clay slapped a chair out of his way. 'The hell with it.' Standing in the doorway, his back to her, he snarled over his shoulder, 'We're invited to a party Saturday night. I thought it would be a chance for you to meet some of the neighbours.' He slammed out of the door before she could reply.
By the time the school bus roared down the highway, a reluctant Nicky on board, Dallas was exhausted. Her lack of sleep the previous night didn't help. Making a U-turn, she headed back to the ranch, a cloud of dust trailing her. Behind her, the Spanish Peaks seemed to be spitting huge, puffy clouds into the heavens. The sky ahead of her was clear and blue.
As blue as Clay's eyes. Dallas's own eyes smarted with unshed tears and a sob caught in her throat. She knew that Clay had been trying to apologise this morning for his behaviour last night, but his rejection was still too raw and painful for her to forgive him. Ahead of he
r, red-winged blackbirds exploded into the air as the car passed a small, willow-lined creek. The red flashing on their shoulders was a bitter reminder of the gown she'd donned to seduce her husband. Anger welled within her as she remembered how guilty she'd felt the day before over her reluctance to consummate their marriage. She'd gone to Clay for his sake, not hers. He was the one who'd insisted that Nicky needed parents that were married in every sense of the word. He'd only wanted to satisfy his own selfish desires. How ironic, then, that when Dallas had overcome her reluctance, he'd discovered that he couldn't abide the thought of her in his bed.
Her jaw clenched in firm resolve and she thrust aside the utter humiliation of Clay's rejection. Never again would she allow him to manipulate her emotions. Never again would she allow him to persuade her that Nicky's happiness was contingent on their sharing a bed. From now on her marriage was nothing more than a formality. All her energy would be directed towards being the best mother that she could be for Nicky.
The night of the party was bitterly cold, and Dallas climbed quickly into the warmed car. Only the sound of the engine disturbed the silence as they drove along. The stars were bright and the Big Dipper hung low overhead. Isolated ranch houses beamed lonely pinpricks of light against the black hills. A deer appeared from nowhere to dash recklessly in front of them, his tail flagging white as he leaped the fence beside the road. A rabbit froze in the beam of the car headlights. Dallas thought of a hundred conversational topics but all died unsaid.
'How long are you going to be mad?' Clay finally asked. 'I tried to apologise. Don't you think you've given me the silent treatment long enough?'
Dallas stirred uneasily. 'I'm not mad.' She knew the words were true as soon as she said them. Several days of rehashing events in her mind, of vowing to ignore Clay, even of knowing she was in the right had been cold comfort. Anger had faded, leaving her hurt, empty, and a little sad, but no longer mad with Clay. He was as imprisoned as she was in this loveless marriage. Taking a deep breath, she asked, 'What do you want to talk about?'
'Tell me about your job. How you solved kids' problems back in Virginia.'
'I didn't solve their problems. I tried to teach them how to solve the problems themselves. Otherwise, they'd simply keep coming back with the same problems.'
'It's kind of hard to believe elementary school kids can have problems bad enough that they'd need to go to a counsellor.'
'Tell that to the children caught in the middle of divorces or to the ones suffering from abusive situations. Or to the ones who need to learn about drugs or how to deal with peer pressure.'
'Drugs? In grade school?'
'Some kids have to grow up fast these days.'
'Maybe in the big city—'
'Everywhere. Even in Colorado. Growing up is hard work.' She stared straight ahead into the night, her thoughts turning into words. 'And when you grow up, you still don't know all the answers.' Panic suddenly rose in her throat at the thought of the problems that lay ahead of her. How many more were concealed in the fabrics of their lives, waiting to ambush her? This party, for instance. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap. How many of Clay's friends and neighbours knew or suspected that she and Clay had married solely to provide a home for Nicky? Would they understand and accept her? Kyle and Clay belonged here. She was as much an outsider as Alanna had been, and Alanna had never considered herself welcome here. Dallas knew exactly how Nicky's tummy had felt the other morning when Dallas had insisted that the child ride the bus. The difference was, once the child had faced up to her fears, they had evaporated. Dallas doubted very much if this party and Clay's friends and neighbours were going to evaporate. Neither did she think that Clay would believe a stomach-ache.
He obviously believed, however, that Dallas was quite capable of taking care of herself. After introducing her to the woman giving the party, Clay disappeared. Almost immediately more arrivals claimed their hostess's attention, and Dallas found herself standing alone. All around her was the buzz of conversation as friends greeted each other and formed into small groups. Dallas felt an alien in a strange country. At her first opportunity she slunk off to an abandoned sofa in the corner where she felt it was less obvious that she was an outsider. The evening threatened to be endless.
'So you're Alanna's cousin. That Clay, he sure manages to land on his feet.' Smiling warmly, a man sat down beside her and draped his arm on the sofa behind her.
Dallas was grateful for the show of friendliness. 'Did you know Alanna well?'
'Not as well as some, if you get my drift.' He winked at her.
'I'm afraid I don't,' Dallas said.
'C'mon, honey. Alanna's cousin from back east… you've been around.' His hand dropped down to brush her shoulder. 'How about you and I sneak out for a cigarette?'
Dallas edged away. 'I don't smoke.'
He chuckled. 'Who needs to know that?'
Desperately Dallas looked around for Clay. He was nowhere in sight. 'I would like a drink,' she said. 'Would you mind?'
He jumped up. 'A Martini, right? I know just how Alanna liked them.'
The second he left the room, Dallas was on her feet. What kind of friend was this man to Clay that he'd try to seduce Clay's brand-new wife? Unless he knew that Clay wouldn't care. Because he knew that Clay had only married her for Nicky's sake. Her first impulse to seek protection from Clay died away. Hesitantly she joined a group of women, hovering on their outskirts, pretending she was one of them, smiling when they smiled, ignoring the hurt that grew in her breast. When the man returned with two glasses she moved closer to the women. The man scowled at her and slammed one glass down and left the room. Dallas sighed in relief.
One of the women turned a sharp eye in her direction. 'What do you think, Mrs Dalton?'
'Please, call me Dallas. Think about what? I'm afraid I—I wasn't listening.'
The woman sniffed. 'No, I suppose not. Neither was Alanna much interested in heating up vegetables.' Her voice emphasised the last word.
Dallas smiled hesitantly. 'I'm afraid that Alanna wasn't very adept in the kitchen.'
The woman gave her a scorching look. 'It was the bedroom where your cousin excelled. As you, no doubt, are well aware.'
There was a murmur of disapproval from the other ladies, but Dallas ignored them, drawing herself erect and staring coolly at the outspoken woman. 'I respected my cousin's privacy.'
The woman snorted. 'Your cousin never gave a damn about being private, so why should we? She flaunted herself and her affair—'
'Liz,' one of the other ladies broke desperately in. 'There's no call to be rude. What will Dallas think of us?'
'The same thing her cousin did, no doubt. That we're a bunch of country bumpkins too backward to know what's going on. You know as well as I what Kyle put up with. His wife and his own flesh and blood. I'm surprised that Clay—'
The other ladies managed to stem the woman's revelations, but Dallas walked away, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. The woman had accused Alanna of having an affair. The other women had tried to hush her, but they hadn't denied the truth of her remarks. Alanna and Kyle's own flesh and blood. Who could she mean but Clay? His behaviour the other night suddenly took on new meaning. He'd recoiled from Dallas in the red nightgown. Not because of a reluctance to bed a wife he didn't love, but because the nightgown reminded him of Alanna. No wonder he'd refused to discuss the subject with Dallas.
Other conversations echoed in her mind. Sara, saying Clay hadn't gone out much since Kyle had returned. Hadn't gone out because the woman he loved lived in his home? The fact that Clay had asked her to marry him because he said there was no one else. Why not? Why wasn't there another woman? Because he'd been devoting himself to Alanna? And finally, Clay describing Alanna and her exotic appearance, her milky white skin. Hardly the words of a dispassionate observer. How could she have been so blind? Here, then, was the reason Clay's friend had felt free to make a pass at Clay's wife. Along with every other person present, he was wel
l aware that Clay couldn't care less about Alanna's cousin. The one who looked like a farmer's daughter.
Clay and Alanna. Were they actually lovers or had they been content with looks and sighs? It was obvious that her crude informer thought the worst.
Lovers. Clay had set up the perfect smokescreen with his constant condemnation of Alanna. No wonder he could hardly bear to say Alanna's name. Did he blame her for a temptation he'd been unable to withstand? He must be suffering the torment of the damned to have betrayed his brother. And then to have lost his lover.
Clay had ordered her to leave the past alone. She wasn't sure that she had the strength to do so. She didn't love Clay, and whatever had happened had taken place before their marriage. There was no reason for her to feel personally betrayed. And yet she did.
CHAPTER FOUR
'You must be Clay's new wife. I'm Mercedes Irving.'
Dallas turned in surprise. The woman studying her was a beauty with blue-black hair that hinted at her Hispanic ancestry, as did her perfect olive complexion. The name tugged at her consciousness. Mercedes Irving. 'Oh, you're the woman…' Dallas swallowed the rest of the sentence in embarrassment.
'I suppose Alanna told you I jilted Clay.' The woman shrugged. 'It's true I broke our engagement.'
'Why did you?'
'Kyle came home.'
The simple statement spoke volumes. Mercedes Irving was a woman for whom the love of one man had been the centrepiece of her life. 'But he was married,' Dallas protested weakly.
Mercedes shrugged. 'One cannot control love. To my sorrow, I know this well.' The woman's words were all the more dramatic for having been spoken in a matter-of-fact voice. Sadness lurked deep within the dark brown eyes. 'Your marriage came as a surprise, but it is good for the little girl, I think. I thought perhaps I should marry Clay and care for Kyle's child, but this is best. I hated her mother passionately. She was not a good wife. Kyle needed a woman who believed in him, not one who attacked his masculinity. He should have married me. He would have married me had he not gone away to the Naval Academy and been bewitched by her.'
