“Now you know how a lot of men treat us women, and why we’re always fighting their overfamiliarity.”
It occurred to her as they walked along the sidelines looking for either Magnus or Selena that most men—regardless of age or skin color—would give up a lot to look like Drake. But none of them would believe that such good looks had a downside.
Like a schoolboy showing off his first girl, Drake held her hand as they walked, glancing down at her from time to time with a grin that seemed so intimate. “If you grew up under Henry’s tutelage, the chance of becoming a chauvinist would be practically nil. Henry adored his wife and treated her as his equal. I didn’t observe that in my parents, because my father worked all the time—or so it seemed to me. And, as I’ve told you, my mother’s heart was not in the home.”
“Would you vote for a woman for president?” she asked him.
“Why not, if she’s competent? She couldn’t be worse than some of the men who’ve had the job, and she might bring some humanitarianism to it.” He nodded in the direction to her left. “They’re over there,” he said of Magnus and his wife, and they walked over.
“It’s a great party, Magnus, and we’re enjoying it. But I’m going to leave now and take Pamela home,” Drake said. “I’ll be back early enough so that I won’t have to wake you up in order to get in.”
“Not to worry,” Selena said. “There’ll be someone to let you in.”
A grin brightened Magnus’s face, and a twinkle danced in his eyes, alerting Pamela to the sally that would come. “These gals can wear you down, man.”
Drake ran his fingers through his hair, his face the picture of confusion. “I don’t understand it, man. Are these ladies always so…so—”
“So aggressive?” Selena finished the sentence for him. “A man’s engagement doesn’t stop them. They’re in for the chase until they see a band on the third finger of your left hand. These are upper-class women, Drake, and in the twenty-first century, they are still taught that every girl should be married. The competition among them for eligible men makes basketball players seem sluggish.”
Magnus winked at Pamela. “If you had any friends here tonight, you’ve lost them. Indeed, I ought to give you both a bodyguard—quite a few men here would like to take a swing at Drake. You two have fun.”
“By the way, Magnus, I’d like to go riding with Pamela in the morning. Is it all right with you?”
“What time?”
Drake looked at Pamela. “It’s best to ride early, when the air is fresh. I’d say around seven,” she said.
“One of the guys will saddle Bingston and a mare, probably Lady Love. Breakfast will be ready at six-thirty.”
Drake thanked their hosts and walked with Pamela to the town car. “Now that we have the time to ourselves, how far is San Antonio?”
“Ten miles on a modern highway. Why?”
“I’d like to see the River Walk along the San Antonio River at night when it’s lit up. How about it?”
“In these clothes?”
“Of course. I like the way you look.”
He drove through the big iron gate, followed the sign pointing in the direction of San Antonio and headed for Route 35. At the Hyatt, he gave the doorman his car key, got a receipt and walked with her through the hotel to the back that faced the River Walk.
“I’d been wondering where you’d park.”
“I’ve learned that a couple of bucks will save a lot of time. These men depend on tips, and I use their services as often as I can.”
“I’ve heard you say some things today that tell me you have strong social consciousness, that you’re a humanitarian.”
“No such thing. I try to do what’s right and to treat other people the way I’d like them to treat me. Sainthood is something I’ve never expected to achieve.” Suddenly a grin began to form around his lips and spread over his face, causing her to stare at him, mesmerized. “You could inspire me to achieve it, though.”
He had to be joking. She hadn’t even been able to inspire him to head toward the altar.
Drake liked his hosts and he liked the family party, including the ball, but he’d begun to feel suffocated with the unwanted attention. In his experience, women didn’t hit on a man unless he was alone, and the same especially went for the behavior of men toward women. Men were turf conscious, guarding theirs the way a lion protects his pride. Only a reckless man, such as John Langford, risked invading that territory. Women did, too, he knew. But in his circles, they were more subtle about it.
“Why is it,” he asked Pamela as they strolled hand in hand along River Walk, “that you’re different from so many of the women I’ve seen here?”
“Possibly because they don’t have Phelps Langford for a father. He still takes every opportunity to impress upon me my worth as a human being, that I don’t need to be anything or anybody but who I am in order to have worth and importance.”
“It’s a healthy lesson, provided he thinks one ought to prepare oneself to be of benefit to oneself and to society.”
“He does.”
“Want a ride on the Yanaguana?” he asked her of the flat-bottomed boat that cruised the river. He glanced over at the ladies’ specialty shop they were about to pass, led her to the door and said, “Wait right here.”
Inside, he found what he wanted at once. “Who’s the lucky woman?” the sales woman asked him as she wrapped the black stole.
He paid with his credit card and smiled with the pleasure of anticipating Pamela’s reaction. “I hope she thinks she’s lucky. Thank you.” He stepped outside and handed the package to Pamela. “What’s this?”
His heart fluttered wildly. Suppose she didn’t like it. “Open it and look.”
She did, held up the stole, black lace lined with black silk, and hugged it to her body. “Drake. Thanks so much. How did you know I was cold?”
“I know it’s July,” he said, “but it’s usually cool this time of night if you’re near water. Oh, heck. I noticed that several women put a sweater or a jacket around their shoulders, and they weren’t wearing a strapless dress, so—”
She reached up and kissed his cheek. “If I had my way…” She let her voice trail off.
He suddenly had a sense of urgency, a desperate need to know the end of her thought. Facing her, he grasped both of her shoulders and stared down into her face. “If you had your way, what would you do?”
Her eyes clouded with unshed tears, and he wished he hadn’t pushed her. “I’d…I’d… Just say, I’d be so much happier.”
“This is not the time to pursue this, but we’ll get back to it before I next sleep in my own bed.” He also surmised what she hadn’t said; not exactly, perhaps, but he understood the sentiment of it.
As they stepped into the Yanaguana, he had only one thought: It’s time I put my house in order.
She wrapped the stole to her body, happy that she no longer felt the chill, but happier still that he cared and that he’d shown it. He helped her into the flat boat that floated along the picturesque River Walk, past people from all over the world—if their manner of dress could be taken as evidence—and past scores of lovers, holding hands, stealing a kiss, expressing their intimacy. He tucked her closer to him and eased an arm around her waist. They passed the Fiesta Noche del Rio and all of a sudden trumpets blared, a spotlight beamed and dancers in colorful costumes began to exhibit their talents.
“It’s idyllic,” she whispered.
“Yes. It makes me realize how much like my father I’ve become. Don’t misunderstand me. I loved him, and I miss him to this day, but he passed his days and many of his nights working, building a life for his family. I’m sure he never saw anything like this and never spent an evening like this with someone he…” He swallowed the words and, knowing that she had to be aware of his hesitancy, squeezed her into him and said, “Someone he cared for.”
She pretended not to notice, wondering at what he’d almost said. “Don’t you find time for yourself?” she asked h
im.
“I’ve spent more leisure time this weekend than I remember ever having spent before. When I’m at Eagle Park, I’m either at a site working or in my room working. After dinner, I spend maybe an hour with our family. Or if it’s hot, I’ll go for a swim. On Sunday morning, or an occasional evening when there’s good weather, I’ll take my horse out and ride for a while so he can get some exercise. But that’s about it.”
“What about your fraternity? You have dates, don’t you?”
“I don’t enjoy spending time with the good old boys drinking, talking about women and exaggerating one’s achievements. As for dates, of course I have them, but an evening here or there. I’ve avoided having a steady, because I haven’t been willing to involve myself in a serious relationship. I understand women and respect their need for security in relationships—something I haven’t been willing to offer.”
Now was the time to ask, and she wasn’t going to pass it up. “Is that why you’ve had this seesaw thing with me?”
“Especially so. From the start, I couldn’t be casual about us, and I knew it was the same with you. I kept as much distance as possible between us, because the more I saw you the more I wanted to be with you. You’re a spark I haven’t been able to put out.”
A whiff of cool breeze brushed across her face. An omen, perhaps, but she was going to ask him anyway. “Do you still want to?”
Shivers raced throughout her body, and when he said, “Doesn’t look like it, does it?” her heart began to race like a runaway train, and she clutched at her chest as if to control its beat.
She turned her body to his so that her breast caressed his side and rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope not. Oh, Lord, I hope not.”
His left index finger at her chin urged her to look at him. She did and felt the sweetness of his mouth on her lips. Both of her arms encircled him then, and she squeezed him to her as best she could before easing herself back to her seat. She glanced back to see who had observed her in that moment of weakness.
“It’s a good thing there’s no one seated behind us.”
“Why? This place is for lovers. I’m over twenty-one and I pay my taxes, so what if I do kiss my woman?”
She wondered why he laughed, until he said, “I’ve always disdained public expressions of affection, and that comment rather amazed me.”
After the Yanaguana docked at the Hyatt, they strolled along the banks of the river eating cones of soft caramel ice cream. “I won’t soon forget this evening,” she said later, getting into the car for the ride back to Waverly.
“You’d better not. I certainly won’t.”
She sensed a change in him, had sensed it throughout the day, beginning with his possessiveness that morning at the barbecue. And when, at the ball, he had invited John Langford to back off or go outside and settle it, her heart had taken wing. And now, her nerves were on edge as she wondered if he’d back it all up when they reached her parents’ home. They rode in silence, for which she gave thanks. She didn’t want to hear a single word that didn’t give a name to the way he had behaved with her throughout the day. He parked in front of the gracious brown Tudor house and walked around to open her door, but she was already opening it when he reached for it. With her hand in his he walked with her to the door.
“It’s dark inside. I’d think they would leave a light on for you.”
She looked at her watch. “It’s eleven-thirty, so I suppose we got home before they did.”
The clear moonlight cast an ethereal glow over him and over their surroundings. The breeze rustled the pines, and the swinging willows had the sound of a straw broom brushing concrete to a simple rhythmic beat. She had never felt so close to him as she did then, not even at those times when he stirred her libido almost to the point of explosion.
“Why didn’t they go to the ball again?” he asked, stepping into the foyer with her.
“Because my father is overprotective. Mama wasn’t feeling up to eating barbecue, so he pampered her all day as if she were an invalid and took her somewhere this evening for dinner so she wouldn’t have to cook.”
“It sounds as if he’s a loving, caring man.”
“Oh, he is that. Definitely. And I want the same.”
“You deserve the same.” The huskiness of his voice alerted her to what would come. “All day I’ve waited for this moment when I’d have you to myself with no prying eyes, no need to deny myself a taste of your mouth. Kiss me.”
It didn’t matter that she hardly recognized his voice, that he hadn’t prefaced it with a lot of sweet words. He wanted what she wanted, their arms tight around each other, bodies locked together and his tongue warm and deep inside of her. His hold on her tightened, and she raised her parted lips for the thrust of his tongue. He pushed it into her, gripped her hips with his right hand and locked her to him. Frissons of heat plowed through her and he tested every centimeter of her mouth, darting around, dancing in and out in a demonstration of what he wanted for them, showing her how he’d love her. She heard her groans and could not control them, for her nipples had begun to ache and the fire of desire had found its way to the muscles of her vagina. Of its own volition, her body began to simulate the dance of love and she moved against him, silently asking for what she needed. She placed his left hand on her right breast and rubbed her nipple with it.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “Baby, I…I’m human, and—”
“I need it. I need it.”
Letting her know that he would deny her nothing, he slipped his hand into the bodice of her strapless gown, released her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
“Oooh,” she cried out. “Honey, I can’t stand this.”
He straightened her dress, and held her away from him, but not before she felt at last the bulge of his sex against her belly. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.
With both arms around him, she brought their bodies together. “I’m not sorry. I’m happy that you want me, that it’s mutual.”
His hips caressed hers again, and then he moved from her and looked into her eyes. “Do you love me?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “I’ve loved you for a long time, and it’s the reason I had decided I’d better not see you again. Do you love me?”
His laugh electrified the silence, and he picked her up, swung her around, hugged her fiercely and swung her around again.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Yes. I have no doubt about it, and you’re the only woman I’ve loved.” A half laugh circled his mouth. “Scared the bejeebers out of me when I first realized it.”
“And now?”
His smile emitted rays of happiness that enveloped her and warmed her soul. “I have Magnus Cooper to thank for the chance to come to terms with my feelings,” he said. “As today wore on, this feeling of contentment settled in me. I got used to it. The restlessness was gone. I didn’t want to go anywhere else, do anything else or be with anyone else. Do you understand what I’m saying? It…it feels so right, and I wouldn’t exchange this feeling for anything. It’s as if I’ve discovered who I am.”
She didn’t trust herself to respond to his words, words that, to her, were a more profound declaration of love than, “I love you,” which he spoke earlier. She kissed his nose and, in as steady a voice as she could muster, she said, “You’re precious to me, so drive safely. Better leave now—if you’re here when my father gets home, you may be talking for the remainder of the night. You’ll meet my parents tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll be here for you at six. We can eat breakfast with the Coopers and then go riding. Okay?”
“I’ll be ready.” She kissed him and watched him walk down the path to the car. He loved her, but was he willing to take it to its natural conclusion?
As he drove to the Cooper Ranch, he tried to understand the change in himself, the sense of freedom, the strange emotion that had welled up in him and made him think he could conquer the world if he wanted t
o.
“Good grief. I’m driving eighty miles an hour.” He slowed down to the requisite forty. Maybe they should get married, so he could get himself under control. “Am I crazy? How do I know that’s a good thing? We haven’t even made love.” And whose fault is that? his conscience nagged. He’d played it safe because that had always been his style: if he thought a woman cared, that she was serious, sex was out of the question because he hadn’t been serious, and he didn’t lead women on to expect what he wouldn’t give. He was serious now, and he intended to see that Pamela Langford didn’t look at another man.
The sensors on the gate to Cooper Ranch responded to a signal in the town car and opened automatically when he approached. “Oh, well, if she doesn’t know, I’ll teach her. She’s the woman I want.”
The next morning, Drake knocked on the front door of the big brown Tudor house precisely at six o’clock. Pamela opened the door immediately and stepped outside.
“Hi. Thanks for not ringing the bell. Daddy’s a light sleeper, and they didn’t get in until around one. Can I have a kiss?”
“I was so busy admiring your riding habit… Woman, you do everything with style.” He lifted her to his body and pressed his lips to hers.
“That’s enough. If you turn it on, I’ll be mush all day. You look great in that outfit,” she said of his beige pants, shirt, jacket, Stetson and brown alligator boots.
He took her hand and headed for the car. “The Coopers will think we planned this. We’re wearing the same colors right down to our riding boots. Maybe that’s a good sign. Not that I believe in omens.”
“I won’t go that far,” she said. “I’ve witnessed strange things. I had a cat who would warn me when a big storm, a heavy rain or severe cold weather was approaching. He would rub against my legs until he got my attention. Then, with no evident provocation, he would gaze up at me, and his tail and all of his hair would stand straight up. When he was sure I noticed, he’d lie down under the sofa.”
“You’re not serious,” he said as he turned the key in the ignition. “That’s weird.”
Love Me or Leave Me Page 13
