by Janet Dailey
“The family will probably find me guilty of leading you astray again, now that you’ve left home.” Shari sighed.
“They shouldn’t blame you. It’s their own fault,” he insisted.
“It can’t be easy for them to accept, especially for Mother.” She knew the furor her own leaving had caused. “I suppose there was a big scene.”
“No.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks and moved away, but not before Shari had glimpsed the vaguely guilty look on his face. Her gaze sharply narrowed in confusion.
“I can’t believe that you left without them trying to stop you.”
“I didn’t tell them I was going.” Before she could voice a reply, Rory turned to face her and justify his actions. “I told you that I took a page from your book. Whit was in the fields with the workers and Granddad was napping. Mom was at some ladies’ club. I did the same thing you did—packed up and left when no one was around.”
“Mother is going to be so upset.” Not to mention Granddad Lancaster, Shari thought but only to herself. That didn’t need to be said.
“I know. But I have my own life to live.” He staunchly defended his right to do what he wanted, not what the family dictated.
“You did leave a note, didn’t you?” Somehow she knew his answer.
“No.”
“Oh, Rory.” She shook her dark head in grim disapproval. “When you aren’t there for dinner tonight, Mother is going to imagine all sorts of terrible things have happened to you. She’ll be half out of her mind with worry. You’d better call and let them know where you are.”
“I will,” he promised, then qualified it. “—as soon as I know where I’m going and what I’m going to do. I need some time to think without anybody hassling me. So don’t you start in on me, too, Shari.”
The appeal for her support and understanding prompted Shari to swallow some of her anger for his inconsiderate behavior. “All right,” she agreed tersely. “But I still think you are wrong for not letting Mother know where you are and assuring her that you are okay.”
“Thanks, Shari.” His mouth curved in a grateful smile. “I knew I could count on you to take my side in this.”
What else could she do? Rory had placed her in the uncomfortable position of feeling responsible for his actions because he’d patterned them after her own. A rueful smile edged the corners of her mouth.
“Some vacation this is turning out to be,” she murmured. “Instead of avoiding any squabbles with the Lancaster family, I find myself in the middle of one.”
“I don’t expect you to get involved in this,” Rory stated. “No one has to know that you had any part in it. It was my decision, not yours.”
“I know.” But she hoped Granddad Lancaster saw it that way. They found enough subjects to argue about without adding Rory to the list.
“Since we have that settled, what are your plans for dinner tonight? Are you going out?” Rory returned to the subject related to his empty stomach.
“Yes. We came back to shower and change before going to the club,” Shari explained.
“Is it all right if I come with you? I’m starved.”
“Of course, you can.” She didn’t think Beth or Doré would object if he joined them.
“I guess I’d better shower and change, too.” He walked toward his suitcase sitting at the foot of the stairs. “Is anybody using Whit’s room?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’ll unpack my stuff in his room.” Rory paused on the first step. “What time were you going to be ready to leave for dinner?”
“We’ll meet you downstairs in about an hour,” Shari replied.
“Okay,” he agreed and turned to carry his suit-case up the stairs.
The clubhouse was ideally situated to offer a view of both the eighteenth green of the golf course and the waters of Loch Dornie. Its beamed cathedral ceilings gave an Old World charm to the building. This theme was accented with furnishings from England and Scotland, the two countries that had made a lasting impression on the Appalachian Mountain chain.
Accompanied by Rory, the three girls were seated at a table near the dining room entrance. Shari absently fingered the cameo brooch attached to the black velvet choker around her neck. Her dress was made from white eyelet lace in an off-the-shoulder design. Its old-fashioned ambience seemed to be in keeping with the surroundings.
“Were you planning to go to the Ceilidh tonight?” Rory pronounced it as “kay-lee” as he addressed the question to the three girls in general and Shari in particular.
“I thought we might,” she said, “if we finished dinner early enough.”
“What is a Ceilidh?” Beth glanced from one to the other with a blank look.
“It’s a get-together to play and sing old Scottish songs,” Rory explained.
“I think I’ve had my fill of bagpipes for one day,” Doré replied and showed her lack of appreciation for its unique music with a downward curve of distaste to her mouth.
“Don’t pay any attention to Doré,” Beth advised Rory. “She’s bored by just about everything. You get used to it after a while.”
“There is something that wouldn’t bore me,” Doré murmured with her gaze trained on the dining room entrance. “That man who just walked in.”
Shari glanced over her shoulder to look at the man who had attracted such avid interest. There was something familiar about the tall, well-built man surveying the room to locate his party.
When he turned to face the direction of their table, her heart gave a glad leap of recognition. For a long second, his gaze was locked with hers. A suggestion of a smile touched his rugged, sun-bronzed features as he started toward the table.
Rising to her feet, she didn’t hear Rory’s muffled curse. Her lips were parted in a silent laugh of delight, her green eyes sparkling as she glided forward to meet him. It seemed natural to walk right into his arms. Closing her eyes, she hugged him tight and rested her cheek against his smoothly shaven jaw.
“It seems so long since I’ve seen you, Whit,” she declared with a sigh.
He smelled of tobacco and tangy after-shave, heady and familiar aromas that she always associated with him. His hands were around her waist, strong and firm in their pressure.
“It’s only been since Easter,” he mocked gently and brushed his mouth over her temple.
“Yes, but you were so busy that I hardly saw you at all except at the dinner table,” she reminded him and returned the light caress of his mouth by pressing her lips firmly against his cheek.
Her red lipstick left a visible imprint of her kiss on his tanned skin. Shari laughed softly when she saw it and borrowed the handkerchief tucked in the breast pocket of his dark jacket.
“I’ve left my mark on you.” She took her time wiping it off, peering at him through the upward sweep of her lashes and enjoying the golden warmth of his brown eyes as he watched her.
“You left your mark on me a long time ago.” Whit took the handkerchief from her and stuffed it back into his pocket. His gaze swept her upturned face with an admiring, yet an aloof look. “It doesn’t seem possible, but you seem to have grown more beautiful.”
His lazy compliment sent a thrill of pleasure through her. “You are still the handsomest man I know,” Shari countered.
She experienced a vague tingle of surprise as she realized her statement was the truth. She had yet to meet a man who could measure up to Whit in either looks or strength of character. Perhaps that was why she had never become seriously involved with anyone she’d dated.
When his hands applied pressure to set her away from him, she made an involuntary move of protest. She wasn’t ready to end this warm reunion with her stepbrother. He arched an eyebrow in her direction, the glint of mockery in his look.
“People are going to get the impression I’m your long-lost lover if we don’t break this up,” Whit taunted in a low drawl.
It was the second time in a single day the word “lover” had bee
n used in conjunction with him. A hot warmth spread across her face, reddening her cheeks as Shari pulled away from him. His eyes narrowed in sharpened interest on her face.
“Are you blushing, Shari?” he accused, a faint curve deepening the corners of his mouth.
“No,” she denied that quickly and would have turned away from his penetrating gaze, but his hand caught her chin and forced her to stay where she was.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted lazily. “Does it embarrass you to think of me as a lover?”
She was reluctantly conscious of the pressure of his strong fingers against her cheek and throat. There was a sensation of intimacy in their touch that she couldn’t explain. Her pulse began hammering in her throat. Shari recoiled from the possibility that this disturbance was caused by any physical attraction.
A mask settled over his features, blocking out his thoughts. His hand came away from her chin, letting her go as he appeared to lose interest in her answer.
“Never mind,” Whit said. “You don’t need to answer that. It was a foolish question.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we join the others at the table?”
As she turned and slipped her hand inside the crook of his arm, she questioned the reason for his unexpected appearance. “What brought you here?” Her gaze wandered to the table where it rested on Rory’s grim expression. She immediately knew the answer to her question. “You came because of Rory, didn’t you?”
Whit slanted her a downward glance that seemed silently alert. “Yes.” It was a simple, straightforward answer that told her nothing of his intentions or his reaction to Rory’s flight from home.
They had reached the table and it was impossible for Shari to find out where his sympathies rested before he confronted Rory. Whit was too intelligent not to have guessed Rory had been influenced indirectly by her. Yet he hadn’t seemed upset or angry with her so perhaps he could be won over to Rory’s side.
Those questions and their answers would have to wait until later. Doré was waiting expectantly for an introduction, prodding Shari with a hard look. That impatience was completely absent when Doré turned her gaze on Whit. The gleam in her blue eyes was subtly provocative.
Dislike rushed through Shari at how obvious the blonde was acting. Her hand tightened fractionally on his arm as Shari briskly made the introductions.
“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Lancaster,” Doré purred and held out her long-nailed hand, forcing Whit to take it in greeting. “Shari has told us so much about you.”
“Oh?” He arched another look at Shari, one that questioned and taunted. “Too bad I wasn’t a mouse in a corner. It might have been very enlightening to discover what she said about me.”
The warmth was again in her cheeks as Shari recalled the conversation. The fact didn’t escape Whit’s notice. Doré didn’t like the way Whit had become distracted by her remark and quickly set about to correct the situation.
“Yes, Shari thinks you are the best brother any girl could have,” she lightly stressed the family relationship.
Whit smiled as he released Doré’s hand. “That’s quite a compliment.” There was something distant about the second glance he gave Shari. “I hope I can always live up to your expectations.”
“Have you had dinner, Mr. Lancaster?” Beth inquired.
“No, I haven’t,” he admitted, then corrected her. “I would like it if you would call me Whit.”
“Why don’t you join us for dinner, Whit?” Doré invited, quick to dispense with the formal address. “I’m sure the waiter can find us a table that will seat five.”
“Do you mind?” Whit put the question to Shari, his tone soft and inquiring.
“Of course not.” Although she guessed that Rory wasn’t too keen about the idea.
Despite the fact that the dining room was crowded, their waiter succeeded in seating them at a larger table after only a slight delay. Shari was irritated when she realized that Doré had maneuvered it so Whit was sitting beside her. It was also apparent that her friend intended to monopolize his attention.
“I understand you own a tobacco plantation, Whit.” Doré leaned toward him. “What’s it like? I confess I know absolutely nothing about it.”
“It’s like any other crop. You plant it, harvest it and sell it.” He summed it up with a minimum of words.
Shari bent her head to conceal an amused smile. Whit was not like other men. That old technique of getting a man to talk about himself would not work with him. He had seen through Doré’s ploy just as she had done. Shari was silently glad and wondered if she wasn’t being disloyal to her college classmate.
“You must admit that there is a great deal of romance attached to tobacco plantations, Whit,” Doré insisted, not deterred from the subject.
“I think that depends on your viewpoint,” he replied and leveled a glance at his half brother. “Don’t you, Rory?”
Rory pressed his lips together in a thin line. He hadn’t said a word since Whit had arrived. His stiff silence came to an end as he broached the reason Whit had come.
“If you came all this way to make me go back with you, you might as well forget it. I’m not going back,” he challenged.
“I don’t think this is the place to discuss it, Rory,” Whit quietly censured him.
“How did you know I was here anyway?” Rory challenged.
“Where else would you go?” Whit reasoned. “You had to have a place to sleep. It was logical for you to come here.”
“You just made a wild guess and got lucky.” Rory refused to believe it had been anything else.
“You could say that,” Whit conceded and cast a sideways glance at Shari. “I have to admit that I didn’t expect to find Shari here. Your mother is under the impression that you’re staying with friends at Cape Hatteras.”
“I never told her that,” Shari denied his insinuation that she had deliberately lied to her mother.
“But you let her believe that,” Whit guessed. “I suppose you arranged to meet Rory here to give him moral support.”
“No, I didn’t. I had no idea of his plans until he showed up here this afternoon.” She was hurt that Whit believed she had conspired with Rory to run away from home.
“That’s the truth, Whit,” Rory supported her statement. “I didn’t know she was here.” He paused, a look of concern flickering across his expression. “I hope Mom wasn’t too upset when she realized I’d left.”
“I find it hard to believe that you care what your mother felt.” His look was harsh, revealing the unrelenting side of his nature.
“I do so care!” Rory reacted vigorously to the denunciation.
“Then why didn’t you have the courage to tell her your plans?” Whit challenged. “If you couldn’t face her, the least you could have done was to leave her a note so she wouldn’t worry herself half-sick.”
“I—” Rory faltered under the silently piercing attack. “I wanted to decide where I was going and what I wanted to do first. I was going to call her in a couple of days.”
“You’re going to call her as soon as we’ve had dinner.” It was an order. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.
“But what am I going to tell her?” Rory argued. “She’s going to ask me questions that I can’t answer yet.”
“You could just tell her that you’re going to spend a couple of days here,” Shari suggested. “Until you make up your mind about what you’re going to do next, you can let her think you’re just here for a long weekend.”
“I suppose I could,” he replied hesitantly. “What do you think, Whit?”
“It’s the same thing I told her before I left.”
“Do you mean” you gave me an alibi?” Rory was stunned.
“I had to tell Elizabeth something to ease her mind,” Whit said, referring to their mother by her given name.
“Gee, thanks, Whit. I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head in astonishment.
“You can thank me by phoning your mother a
nd reassuring her that you are all right.” The stern line of his mouth relaxed into a faint curve. Then Whit noticed the waiter hovering near the table and opened his menu. “Has everyone decided what they would like to order for dinner?”
Chapter Three
After dinner, they all returned to the condominium. Doré had volunteered to ride back with Whit in his car and Shari had been forced to stifle her irritation again at the sight of the two of them together. She was troubled by her sudden desire to compete for Whit’s attention, and her possessive attitude toward her stepbrother.
“This is the perfect night for a moonlight sail,” Doré declared as they walked to the apartment door. “There’s a good breeze and the moon is full. Didn’t you mention at dinner that you kept a boat here, Whit?”
“Yes, I do,” he admitted and moved smoothly ahead of Shari to unlock the door.
Since he had ignored her broad hint, Doré made her desire plainer. “Why don’t we all go for a sail tonight?” But she looked only at Whit when she made her suggestion.
Shari gritted her teeth at her friend’s boldness and silently studied Whit’s expression as he opened the door to admit them. There was nothing in his rugged features to indicate he regarded Doré as being too forward. If anything, he appeared vaguely indulgent. He waited until everyone was inside before he responded to her suggestion.
“You and Beth are welcome to use the sailboat tonight. This is your vacation and I don’t wish to interfere with your enjoyment of it, but I’m afraid that we—” His glance swept over Rory and Shari to define the pronoun. “—have a family matter to settle. Would you excuse us?”
“Of course.” Doré tried not to show her displeasure with his decision but she didn’t succeed too well.
Whit half-turned to throw a look at Rory. “We’ll use the telephone in the study to call your mother.”
With obvious reluctance, Rory crossed the beige carpet to the study door and Shari followed him a step ahead of Whit. Referring to the room as a study seemed almost inappropriate. It was a bright and airy room with hanging greenery. The cranberry-upholstered sofa made a splash of color against white walls. When the door was closed, Rory hesitated and glanced uncertainly at Whit.
