She felt rather than saw him shrug. “Did I say I wanted anything?” he asked limpidly. Then, as she refused to look at him, he said quite seriously, “I didn’t mean to overhear. You were obviously sharing something confidential with Emory.”
“You made no quick effort to get away, I noticed,” she said with a snap. They entered the dining room, which was empty.
“I’m only human.” That, with another careless shrug.
A quick turn of her head, and she stared at him. “What does that mean?”
He went to the other end of the dining room, pushed open a dark-paneled swinging door and said cheerfully, “Good morning, Mrs. Vandusen. Would coffee for two be any trouble this early? Thanks.” Feeling left on a dangling end, she wandered around the table, touching chairs lightly with her hand. If she’d thought she could get away with it, she would have left him right then and there, but that, even for her, would be too appallingly rude. No, that wasn’t true, she realized as soon as she’d thought it. She felt a curious desire to thrash out the rest of the conversation with him.
He turned back neatly. She knew, suddenly, that he wouldn’t answer her question. People always had a limit to how far they would open in social circumstances. God knew she certainly did.
“I meant,” he said quietly, strolling to the table, “that I had come to the doorway at a very enlightening moment and, since I wanted to hear more, I waited.” His eyes met and held hers, dark diamond bright. “No excuse.”
He drew out a chair for her courteously, large, slim hands curling around the edges of its back, and hers were the eyes to fall first. She sat, head bowed, and he then took a seat directly to her left, just around the corner of the end of the table, his knee brushing hers. She was intensely aware of him so close, and held herself tight because of it.
“Here you are!” said Mrs. Vandusen smilingly as she backed through the swinging door, laden with a tray. “Shall I set it on the sideboard, or would you like it on the table?”
“The table’s fine, thank you,” replied Pierce, and the housekeeper set down the things close to him and then poured.
“Would either of you like breakfast?” the older lady then asked.
Caprice, who had been watching silently, reached for her offered cup and declined with a smile. After letting her reply first, Pierce shook his head, and the housekeeper left.
She stared into her cup, fine bone china, and concentrated on sitting very still. His eyes ran over her slowly, and she could almost feel it as a physical touch. A muscle bunched in her jaw, a quick, pulsing reflex.
“What an enigma you are,” he said then, leaning forward to put his elbows on the dark-grained wood. “Contradictory, sympathetic, lighthearted, angry, inconstant. Unfathomable, when you choose. Shall I hazard a guess?”
“Would I be able to stop you?” she asked mockingly, though not unkindly. She sent a fleeting glance at him and found him smiling at her, dark head angled.
He didn’t bother to answer that. “I think,” he said softly, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a finger touch delicately at her rigid jaw. “I think that you’re fully aware that I find you very attractive. And I also think that you’re attracted to me.” The finger traced down her neck. She turned her face away and stared blindly across the room. “And, far from the mindless unreliability you seem to wish to convey, I believe you’re motivated by a whole complex rash of reasoning I can only guess at. There’s a deep person in that lovely body, underneath all those layers. It’s just a matter of finding her.”
That muscle in her jaw was not rigid. It was trembling, and she turned to stare into Pierce’s eyes. “How amusing,” she said, and was shocked at herself, for instead of it coming out lightly as she’d intended, the words, and her face, were stark.
His eyes quickened. His hand then went under her shirt collar to cup the nape of her neck. She told herself she should want to draw back, but her head felt heavy, willing to be propelled to him as he leaned forward and kissed her with gentle, open lips. Her eyelids fell.
Neither heard the sounds of people approaching. Caprice felt as though she were falling deep into the sensation of his warm, curved lips and the coffee scent within his mouth. There was a noise at the open doorway. She saw Pierce draw back and then turn his head to look, quite calmly. In turn, she knew he must have seen the startled, shaken awareness that she felt quiver over her features, but she could not control it.
She deliberately took an extra second, forcing herself under control while Pierce exchanged greetings with his mother, Jeffrey and Roxanne. Then she turned very blandly and smiled at the three, noting the various reactions of rage, jealousy and sheer, simple consternation.
Later that morning, after the others were downstairs, an idle discussion was held as to how they would spend their time until the first of them had to leave that afternoon. Pierce had excused himself from the dining room with a quiet word and a strange look at Caprice. Jeffrey was ignoring her for the moment, and Roxanne acted thoughtful and withdrawn. Why life had to be so unnecessarily complicated, she wearily did not know.
Quite soon, the possibility of swimming was brought up, for, as Ralph put it, though the weekend had been balmy, today it was actually quite hot. Caprice kept silent, with a rather set expression, as the others quickly and enthusiastically agreed that a swim in the lake would be nice, and so it was settled. With a wry twist of her mouth, she looked at Roxanne, who suddenly looked quite understanding, for the brunette was the only one who knew her well enough to be aware of her aversion to deep water.
The group tramped upstairs to change into swimsuits if they had brought them, or to borrow one from Jeffrey, as the family kept several in various sizes for just such an occasion. Roxanne stopped Caprice just outside her door.
“Look, you don’t have to swim if you don’t want.”
She smiled at her friend, feeling warmed. “I don’t mind, really. I don’t have to go out over my head if I don’t like, and can adequately paddle around in the shallow water. Besides, it’ll feel good.”
“Well,” Roxanne said, wavering. “You should have said something.”
“And make a big deal over something stupid when everyone else wanted to? No, thank you.” Caprice pushed open her door, and with a flashing smile threw over her shoulder, “Beat you downstairs!”
But she didn’t, for she took the time to braid her silver-blonde hair to keep it out of her eyes, and consequently was the last outside. The heat, magnified by the concrete path, hit her bare arms and legs pleasantly, and she had to slit her eyes against the sun’s bright glare. The boats were all to one side of the pier, which left the other side and the end free for diving off. The others were already in the water, several attempting to play volleyball, while Ralph clambered out to launch powerfully into a somersault dive off the pier’s end. She winced as he hit the water with a skin-splitting slap, to surface laughingly.
But what caught and held her attention, sending an odd shiver down her spine, was the sight of Pierce, who had apparently come out directly after leaving the dining room. He was off to one side in a lounge chair, black hair gleaming wet and slicked from his strong forehead, naked torso gleaming gold and sleek, narrowing to slim hips encased in brief, dark blue trunks. He was reading through some papers, with a folder lying on the grass beside him, aloof from the others. Her gaze skittered down his long, lean legs, muscular and masculinely shapely, and then she determinedly ignored him as she walked with every appearance of calm to the lake’s edge.
Body sleek and lusciously tanned in her borrowed black, one-piece swimsuit, she walked gracefully and sedately into the water until it reached her chest, and then she launched into a leisurely dog paddle. Emory greeted her with such warmth that Petra looked briefly stricken, and Caprice could have kicked him. But in the next instant she started to smile, and, as it certainly couldn’t hurt his cause any if Petra were made just a bit jealous, she responded with a low, intimate reply and a brilliant, laughing glance.
After several minutes, holding herself aloof from the rougher water play, she decided she had put in a respectable showing and turned to make back for shore.
Jeffrey called out, laughingly but with an edge in his voice that had not been present before that morning, “Don’t tell us you’re leaving the water already, Caprice? You haven’t even got your hair wet.”
The others took no notice, but his voice had carried over the water. She saw fleetingly that Pierce had raised his dark head. Roxanne turned her head sharply. After a moment, she said, with every appearance of normality, “I don’t feel like washing my hair later, that’s all.”
She looked at Jeffrey. He gave her a glittering smile. “Pierce doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working,” he said with soft maliciousness.
She looked as surprised as she felt, for, paddling around in the water and concentrating on keeping her smile on her face, she hadn’t even thought of Pierce. Then a flashing anger lent a cutting edge to her voice as she said, “Grow up, Jeffrey.”
She turned back to shore, her toes sinking lightly into the silken sand, which, with the water lapping under her breasts, was comfortably within reach. Behind her, she heard an odd, angry little laugh and then a small splash.
A sharp, urgent shout of warning from Roxanne shocked her. “Cap, look out! Quick—” In that instant she knew a sheer, unadulterated terror bolt through her. In that instant, too late, she launched for shore, managing only a strangled, “God!”
In that instant, too late, she felt two hands, like horrible manacles, fasten around her slim ankles, and she was yanked under the surface before she had time to draw in a sobbing breath. The last thing she heard as the water closed over her head was Roxanne’s furious shout.
Dead silence, dead silence, roaring blood in her ears, no breath. She fought convulsively, in deep panic, but the water hampered her movements, and he was far too strong. Nightmare seclusion, no air, thrashing limbs and a dark terror numbing her mind. Black death, no breath, oppressive water bearing her down, dead silence, paralyzing, paralyzing.
She fought herself as much as he, knowing eternity as a torment. Don’t fight. Don’t panic. God, she was panicking. She tried, one last time, to push back that overwhelming, mind-robbing terror. Phobias are irrational. But it was too late; the eternity had caught up with her, and so had the terror, swamping her mind like the water had swamped her body, black and total, black and total; she knew she was drowning, she knew despair. A sob broke from her snarling, panic-rigid lips, and water filled her mouth. Perhaps five, certainly not ten, seconds had passed. She curled tight and motionless.
But then movement exploded under the water, that motionless, death-filled tomb that rotted at her strength and took away her reason. The manacles at her ankles abruptly loosed her, but she couldn’t move her locked, trembling limbs and felt herself drift. Another sob, and she swallowed water the wrong way, immediately retching, swallowing more, seeing dancing spots behind her eyelids as a true, unconscious blackness roared at her like an oncoming train.
Her head broke water at the same moment as hard, compelling hands snatched at her. Open, blinking eyes seeing nothing but streaming wetness and golden-brown skin. Her head bent to the water, mouth open; she tried to breathe, tried to retch, coming out with a strangled, choking sound. Her shoulders, under the impersonal hands, convulsed as she weakly tried to sob. Then the sounds hit her of Roxanne screaming at Jeffrey, in a rage, “You damned idiot! You stupid jerk!”
Through it all, Jeffrey said, stunned and blank, “What’s wrong with her? What happened?”
She couldn’t move her limbs, couldn’t do anything but shake horribly and loathe the water so dangerously near, so ready to suck her down. Then Pierce said, directly in front of her and shocked to a whisper, “My God.” Blinking her eyes to clear them of the water, all she could do was stare at him, uncomprehending and blank, eyes black and immense, face pinched, teeth chattering. Everyone else watched, appalled.
Pierce drew her close and bent his head. Where had he come from? Her fingers clutched bruisingly at his upper arms. He pushed her face to his bare chest, and she tried to say something, but all that came out was a terrified whimper. Her rigid body was flush to his, and his arms went around her tightly. He murmured in her ear soothingly.
But what she heard the loudest was Roxanne’s retort to Jeffrey. “She can’t stand having her head under water, genius! For God’s sake, why couldn’t you act your age and leave her be?”
Pierce said to her quietly, “Now calm down, sweetheart. It’s over, all over.” The fear began to recede, like low tide. But when he loosened his arms a bit, she convulsively jerked, drawing her legs up as her fingers raised welts on his skin. He appeared to be quite unaware. “I’m not going to let you go. Don’t worry; I’ve no intention of letting you loose until we’re at least out of the water.”
The others couldn’t hear what he was saying in her ear, but they could see her distress. Roxanne asked, voice hushed, “Cap, are you okay?”
Tightly, voice catching, she gulped. “Fine. Be okay in a second.”
“I didn’t know,” Jeffrey said. “I’m sorry.”
Pierce sent a look over her head to his younger brother, eyes like black steel. After that, he ignored Jeffrey totally and began to walk slowly out of the water with her. She heard Emory say uncomfortably, “Uh, anything we can do?”
Pierce said, common-sensible, “We’re going to sit in the sun for a little while. She’ll feel better when she’s warmer.” His utterly calm manner eased the atmosphere considerably, and he was rewarded by her muscles unclenching. He turned her in his arms until she was facing away from the others, and as he felt her legs slowly, sluggishly begin to take her weight, he withdrew one arm, keeping the other tight and secure around her waist. Her head was turned to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder. The others saw his head bend until his cheek rested on her wet hair.
Coming out of the water was hard, for her legs felt ridiculously weak, and her body felt heavier in comparison to the buoyancy from swimming. They went slow and easy, her thigh muscles quivering, and when they had reached his lounge chair, he pushed her unresistingly into it and then draped a large beach towel over her shoulders. She shivered as though she had a high fever, and he came down beside her to take her into his arms.
From time to time, the now subdued group in the water glanced their way but could only guess at the low conversation being held, her head ducked low, Pierce’s head quite near. Jeffrey was the target of many accusing glances and looked more miserable than Roxanne had ever seen him.
At the lounge chair, after a long silence, when warmth finally began to creep back into her chilled limbs, Caprice said, soft and bitter, “I feel like a fool.”
His hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing gently at the tense muscles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such terror as I saw on your face when you broke the surface. You can’t dictate to emotions or fears.” She turned her head away. Pierce touched at her braid, then moved his hand to slide it up and down her shoulder bracingly. His bare thigh was pressed hard on hers, and his greater body heat seared her skin. She wished she could get closer to him and that marvelous warmth.
“I couldn’t think,” she whispered. “I couldn’t breathe.”
His voice was gentle. “How long have you been that way?”
“All my life, isn’t it stupid? I’ve tried to overcome it, even tried to jump off a diving board once. I got out to the end of it and couldn’t move. My brother had to pull me off again. It’s dumb and irrational.” She rocked forward and put her head on her knee. “It takes over my mind, and I just—freeze.”
She turned her face to one side, and while he continued to stroke at her back, she began to feel relaxed and very tired. Her eyes fell on a scattered pile of papers on the grass, and then she remembered. “Weren’t you sitting here before?”
He replied drily, “Yes, until I heard you give a kind of strangled croak and saw how re
al Roxanne’s worry was. Nobody else seemed to know what was happening, except Roxanne and I, of course, so I dived in and grabbed a handful of Jeff’s hair to yank him back. He let go, I came up, and you popped up like a floating ice cube, doubled over and unmoving. I must admit, that gave me a bad turn. For a moment I thought you’d gone unconscious.”
“I almost had. I’d started to black out when you grabbed me.” Unexpectedly, she started to cry. He bent over her curved back, and she felt the weight and warmth of him as he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.
“Ssh. Come on now; it was bad, but it was only for a few seconds, and now it’s all over with. Dry your tears. We’ll go inside and you can shower and get dressed, all right?”
“All right. I just feel so mortified.”
“Sit up and look at me.” She did, and his eyes were stern, his face hard. “Stop it. Do you hear? Phobias are something out of a person’s control. You couldn’t help it. If Jeff hadn’t acted like the fool he is, it wouldn’t have happened. Are you ready to go indoors?”
She remembered his work and looked at the papers. “You don’t have to come with me. I’m all right.”
“I want to,” he said, and that was all there was to it.
Chapter Five
Pierce saw her to her room, after they had walked into the house slowly, his arm still tightly about her shoulders. When she had shut her bedroom door behind him, she sagged against it with her legs trembling in delayed reaction. Then she dragged herself weakly to her tiny bathroom to shower, wash her hair and, afterward, dress.
Her face was still too pale and her eyes strangely blank when she checked her appearance before going back downstairs. Pierce had told her he would wait for her in the library after he had dressed, also, and so she rather listlessly supposed she should go on down. All her energy seemed sapped, and she felt much more like taking a nap.
As she descended the stairs, she found herself thinking rather distantly how odd it was for her to feel such terror at one type of water when, say for instance, a shower, with water cascading over her head, didn’t bother her in the slightest. A shudder went through her entire body. One was so deep, and the other so safely shallow…
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