by Janet Dailey
With the message given to John, Andrea excused herself immediately to go to the kitchen to inform Mrs. Davison of the extra person for dinner.
"So Adam's invited himself to dinner, has he?" was the housekeeper's gruff response to Andrea's announcement. "I don't think that boy cares much for his own cooking. I'll be glad when he gets married and I won't have to keep juggling the portions."
"I invited him," Andrea explained. "I thought it would be a nice break from the routine. Can I help?"
"The way you've been mooning about the house since Mr. Tell left, you wouldn't be of much help to me in the kitchen," Mrs. Davison retorted. "You'd be in the middle of something and forget what you were doing."
The last of the housekeeper's words didn't penetrate. Andrea was frozen by the woman's initial statement. The thin-faced woman glanced at her briefly, her shrewd eyes taking in Andrea's pale face and shocked expression.
"Housekeepers inadvertently see and hear things they're probably not supposed to, Andrea," Mrs. Davison said quietly, maintaining the rhythmic stroke of the vegetable brush over a carrot.
"The night of the dinner party…you heard us talking in the dining room?" Andrea swallowed tightly, hoping the woman would deny it.
"I heard enough to guess that you hadn't met him for the first time in this house," she answered.
"I see." Andrea stared at her hands, twisting them nervously in front of her. "And what do you propose to do about it?"
"Me?" The housekeeper shrugged. "I don't plan to do anything about it, or the expensive ring upstairs in your drawer, I'm just wondering what you're going to do about it."
"You…You know about the ring too?" Andrea asked in a stricken voice.
"I found it by accident." The thin face was softened by a sympathetic smile. "Haven't you told Mr. Grant?"
"You must have realized that it wouldn't make any difference, Mrs. Davison." With a supreme effort to gain control, Andrea tossed her hair, lifting her chin proudly. "And I've already been enough of a burden to John without going to him with more of my sorrows."
The housekeeper sighed. "It's for you to decide. I won't be saying a word. I probably shouldn't have opened my mouth to begin with, but I watched you silently grieving for your parents and that no-good boy you were engaged to. The haunted look was just leaving your eyes when you went on that holiday last winter. I've grown fond of you, child." Her eyes anxiously searched Andrea's taut face. "It hurts me to see the pain back."
Andrea pressed her trembling lips together, touched by the concern and affection expressed by the usually restrained woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Davison, but everything will work out."
"There, I've gone and upset you?" The woman smiled in genuine regret. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a long, hot bath? I'll make sure no one disturbs you."
"I think I will." Andrea knew she was in no condition to return to the living room. Her precarious composure would not stand up under Nancy's scrutiny or any probing examination of her holiday in Tahoe.
Chapter Nine
ADAM'S PRESENCE at the dinner table that evening was a godsend for Andrea. His easy, outgoing personality kept the conversation on impersonal topics. It had taken little argument to persuade him to stay for part of the evening. When he finally left, a peaceful quiet settled over the house and Andrea knew she didn't need to be afraid that Nancy might bring up the subject of her brother again, at least not that night.
By ten o'clock, everyone had retired to their respective bedrooms. As Andrea creamed the make-up from her face, the carefree mask she had worn that evening was slowly removed at the same time. Her large, hazel green eyes reflected the pain from within. Even the dark gold of her hair seemed less bright. Staring down at the birthstone ring, which was her wedding band, she touched the two stones that had been remounted the previous winter. Slowly, she removed the ring from her finger and laid it on the dressing table.
Walking to the dresser, she reached into the corner of one of the drawers and took out the small jeweler's box hiding in the back. Strangely, the silver gold band was warm as she slipped it on her finger. The rainbow colors of the diamond solitaire sparkled mockingly into her face.
"I'll only wear it again this once," Andrea whispered in a promise to herself. "Only for a little while." Folding her hands together, she carried the ring to her lips, closing the gold tips of her lashes against the acid dryness of her eyes, "I love you so, Tell," she murmured achingly.
Walking to the curved window on the mock tower side of her room, she stared into the black drizzle of the night. Her mind's eye saw a mountain of white snow and Tell leaning on his ski poles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners to match the warm smile on the masculine mouth, raven black hair glistening with the brilliant blue hues of the Sierra sky.
For long moments, she allowed the image to dominate her mind before turning away from the window with a dejected sigh. The turned down covers on the brass bed weren't at all inviting to Andrea, but neither was the prospect of remaining awake with her thought.
With another sigh, she walked into the adjoining bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Then she remembered that her new supply of sleeping pills was still on the table in the foyer. Frowning that she hadn't remembered them before, she reached for the short terry robe on the door hook, pulled it on and tied the sash around her waist.
The upstairs was quiet and Andrea tiptoed along the corridor so as not to disturb Nancy and Rosemary Collins. She didn't want to run the risk of a late-night chitchat with Nancy. At the bottom of the stairs was the soft yellow glow from one of the suspended gold lamps always left on in the foyer. As her bare foot touched the rug covering the ground floor, the Irish setter came padding out of the living room, his feathery, red gold tail wagging slightly in greeting.
Andrea had been positive that John had gone to his room, but the presence of Shawn indicated otherwise. As she peered into the darkened room, there was no discernible shape that she could identify as John. Then the dog ambled down the hallway leading to the master suite. Andrea decided that he must have been wandering through the house and that she had been right in believing John was in bed.
Hurrying slightly, Andrea moved toward the foyer table and the small package from the pharmacy still sitting on its top. As her hand reached to pick up the packet containing the bottle of sleeping pills, she caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar object out of the corner of her eye. A sideways glance of investigation focused on a raincoat hanging on the coat tree, droplets of water still clinging to its waterproof exterior.
Pivoting sharply, she stared toward the living room and into Tell's impassive expression as he stood in the darkened doorway. Her heart stopped completely in an instant of disbelief.
"What are you doing here?" she breathed.
"I came back," Tell answered simply as if he had intended to all along.
As he stepped farther into the light of the foyer, the yellow glow marked the contrast of the white of his shirt and the teak brown of his tanned skin. A striped tie of gold and brown was draped around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt were undone. His black hair gleamed with dampness, accenting the raven sheen and shading his face.
"Why?" Andrea whispered, wondering if he enjoyed tormenting her.
Her hazel eyes grew large with pain and confusion. At least she understood why the dog had been in the living room. He had obviously heard the late-night arrival of Tell and had wandered around the house to investigate.
Tell shrugged, his unrevealing eyes never leaving her stricken face. "What are you doing downstairs?" A hint of impatience at her appearance underlined his question.
Breaking free of his compelling gaze, Andrea picked up the packet with the tablets from the small table, clutching it in her hands in front of her as if it were a shield.
"I left this downstairs," she explained tautly.
"What is it?" Tell demanded.
"It's a prescription…I filled." She stared down at the packet, breathing in deeply to steady her trem
bling voice.
"For what?"
Tucking a dark blond curl behind her ear, Andrea forced herself to meet his gaze, sensing by the hardness of his tone that he wouldn't allow her to evade his question a second time.
"It's sleeping pills," she answered stiffly.
Long strides eliminated the distance between them before she could take more than one step backward. The packet was wrenched from her grasp and held beyond the reach of her hands.
"Give that back to me!" The command was rasped hoarsely from her throat. Andrea avoided any direct physical contact with Tell. To touch him would destroy her fragile defenses.
Long fingers closed around the packet containing the bottle of pills and thrust it in his pocket, "You don't need them," he said firmly.
"Why did you come back?" A desperate, surging anger made her lash out at him. "Was it just to torment me more? To make me more miserable than I already am? If that's your plan, you've succeeded."
"Do you think I wanted to come back?" His mouth thinned harshly as he spun away and stalked to the living room as if he could no longer bear the sight of her.
Helpless frustration and the irresistible need to be near him carried Andrea into the room after Tell. "Then why did you come?" she protested. "No one expected you!"
A light was switched on, illuminating his rigidly erect back and squared shoulders. Tell replied without turning to look at her, "I came back because I couldn't stay away and I should be damned for saying it aloud," he answered in a low, cutting voice, lowering his head and rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.
Andrea drew a quick, silent breath, her heart leaping at the admission that he was still attracted to her and dying a little at his hatred for the emotion he couldn't deny.
"When I didn't know where you were," Tell continued in a low, self-punishing tone, "I counted myself lucky because I wouldn't see you again. Now that I know you're here, I can't seem to stay away from this place."
Slowly, he turned to face her, an angry hunger burning in his eyes at the sight of her, his expression etched by torment.
"So I guess the answer is 'yes,' I've come back to make you miserable." His voice rose as the intensity of his inner pain increased. "To make you as miserable as I am! To torment you with my nearness as you torment me! And yes, to hurt you, too!"
Andrea swayed toward him, wanting to rush into his arms. "It tears at me, too," she said. "I knew it was best that you leave, but I kept wishing you would come back if only for a moment."
"I've been here for hours," he said with a wry curl of his mouth that bordered on contempt for her statement.
"For hours?" That was impossible. He couldn't have been in the house without someone knowing he was there. "Where were you?"
"I was walking, trying to convince myself to leave. I saw Adam's truck in the driveway and I knew I was a fool to come back to be used by you."
"Oh, Tell," Andrea murmured in a choked voice. "You don't still believe there's something between Adam and me, do you? He's engaged to a girl that he loves very much. He's nothing more than a friend, more of John's than mine. Why can't you accept that it's the truth when I say that what you and I felt was something very special and rare? It's a feeling that I've never known before or since I met you. I haven't gone in search of anyone to replace it."
"Not even to your husband?" Tell retorted harshly. "Or wasn't I supposed to remember he exists?"
"He isn't really my husband." Frustration hunched her shoulders as she averted her gaze from his face, not certain she could endure the pain of another tearing argument with Tell.
"Don't mince words, Andrea," he frowned darkly. "You can't deny that you're married to him."
"But what you won't understand or let me explain is that it isn't really a marriage at all. It's a farce," she protested.
"That's the way you look at it," he interrupted.
"That isn't true." Andrea closed her eyes briefly'. "I don't love John in a romantic way and he doesn't love me." Her voice was tired. The strain of the last months had taken away its force, but this time she was going to tell him the truth. She would not allow herself to be sidetracked by his questions. "It was never my intention to marry John, not for his money or any other selfish reason you want to think. It was his idea for us to get married."
"You can't have put up much of a fight or you wouldn't have married him," Tell observed dryly. "John is a big man. I'm sure you can shift all the blame on his shoulders. He's accustomed to carrying heavy burdens."
"Yes, John is a big man." As always when Tell included John in his attack against her, a proud defiance gave Andrea strength to protect the man who had given her so much for so little in return. "And I'm not trying to blame anyone. What I'm trying to do, Tell, is to explain what happened."
"By all means explain." His lip curled sarcastically. "That's all you've wanted to do, as if it will make any difference." The pain of longing and love flashed across his face. "As if anything will make any difference," he concluded. The torment of loving and hating that was love laced his voice.
"Shortly after I moved here when my parents died, some vicious gossip started about John and me. In an effort to stop those rumors, John suggested that we get married. Don't you see, Tell, it was to give me protection. Our marriage was a cloak of respectability for me." Andrea pleaded with him to understand.
"And the money?"
Andrea spun away from his taunting question. "I hate that word."
"But not the things it can buy," he mocked.
"No, I don't hate the things it can buy." She laughed shortly and bitterly. "Because it can buy me sleeping pills to drug me into unconsciousness and keep me from dreaming of you."
"Damn you!" The hoarse imprecation whipped around her head. In the next instant, her wrist was seized and she was pulled around to face the glare of his angry gaze. "How can you expect me to forget this—that you're wearing another man's ring?"
A frozen stillness held him motionless as Tell twisted her wrist to bring her left hand into view and found himself staring at the engagement ring he had given her. The lamplight played over the diamond facets, the shaft of the rainbow hues pinning his gaze.
An unnatural calm spread over Andrea. "I often wear it at night in the privacy of my room," she told him, "and stare at the empty pillow next to my own." Sighing, she glanced from his handsomely chiseled features to the ring that claimed his attention. "And I don't expect you to forget that John's ring belongs on my finger, but I expect you to understand how it got there."
Slowly, he let her hand return to her side, releasing his hold on her wrist as he took a step to the side. A frowning, confused look moved wearily over his face.
"I'm trying to understand, Andrea," Tell murmured, but the expressive shrug of his wide shoulders indicated his lack of complete success in the attempt.
With fingers that had grown cold with the hopelessness of her love, Andrea removed the ring and held it out to him.
"Here, it's time I gave it back to you," she said tightly. "I should have left it at the lodge desk with the note that you tore up without reading. Instead, I waited in the hall outside the lobby, hoping that when you'd read what I'd written, you might ask me to wear it with the blessing of your love instead of a curse."
His acceptance of the ring had been automatic, the brilliant colors of the diamond dying in the shadows of his open palm. The killing blow from the invisible knife in her heart didn't permit Andrea to speak as silently she turned away to seek the dubious refuge of her lonely room.
"Wait." His pained voice stopped her. "Don't go. Not yet, Andrea."
She couldn't turn around. The tears that had been denied her since his sudden departure now filled her eyes. What little dignity and pride she had left begged her not to let him see her tears.
"There isn't any point in staying," she answered in a low, quivering voice. "It's truly over between us now."
"I can't believe that," Tells husky voice intoned, "or I still wouldn't want to hold yo
u in my arms."
He was directly behind her. His hands touched her, drawing her shoulders against the hard muscles of his chest. A shiver of excruciating ecstasy quivered through her, the shock waves of physical contact with him undermining her resolve to leave him quickly.
"Don't…" Her voice broke for an instant. "Don't make it difficult."
"Difficult?" He exhaled a short breath of bitterly wry amusement. "It's always been difficult to keep my hands off you. Why should now be any different?"
When his hands molded her closer to his male outline and Andrea felt his warm breath against her hair, she knew that in another minute she would be lost completely to the magic of his embrace.
"No!" Stepping quickly forward, she pivoted toward him to elude the light grasp of his hands.
He tipped his dark head to the side. "You're crying." Regret flickered in his dark-lashed eyes. "It hurts to see your tears as much as it hurts to know that you're married to another man when you should belong to me."
Andrea intended to run from him, but Tell's finger touched her cheek and followed the trail of the solitary tear that had slipped from her eyes. His touch felt like the gentlest thing she had ever known.
"Don't be gentle with me," she begged. "Please, Tell, don't be gentle. I can endure your mockery and your sarcasm, but not this."
Tell simply shook his head. "I'm not big enough to understand, and I'm not strong enough to stop loving you."
Her head was swimming dizzily with his nearness. A betraying light of hungry love burned in her hazel eyes, letting him see how susceptible she was to his caress. His hand curled around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. Weakly, she strained against his arms, struggling to deny the wild, breathtaking beat of her own heart.
But her resistance faded swiftly as Tell folded her against the vigorously masculine outline of his lean body. She felt the acceleration of his hear beneath her hand and felt him shudder when she pliantly yielded to his embracing arms. Muffled endearments were murmured against the thickness of her hair, making the world spin crazily until Andrea no longer knew what was right or wrong.
