by Janet Dailey
“No, you don’t,” she denied. “You keep telling me you do” just as you keep telling me what I’m going to do. You’re wrong.”
“You are stubborn,” Whit declared with a trace of grimness.
Her hands pushed at his waist. “Lunch will be ready.” She used that as an excuse to break off the embrace. “They’ll be waiting for us.”
“Yes, we’d better go to the house,” he agreed and watched her with a certain closeness after he’d let her go.
On the way back to the pillared house, he didn’t hold her hand, or make any attempt to physically direct her course. They were nearly to the steps when Rory intercepted them.
“Was I seeing things?” He directed his puzzled glance to each of them. “I could have sworn I saw Shari riding a gray horse that looked just like Rebel.”
“It was Rebel,” Whit informed him.
“It was?” Rory’s frown deepened. “But where did he come from?”
“Rebel is my engagement present to Shari,” he explained.
“Does that mean you really are engaged to him?” Rory asked her.
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” she replied stiffly and climbed the front steps ahead of them.
Chapter Ten
Her spoon chased the strawberries in their pool of rich cream, not catching any. Shari didn’t really care. She hadn’t had a taste for them or any of the dinner that had preceded dessert. A feeling of futility continued to plague her as it had all afternoon. Neither her vigorous protests nor her silences had seemed to make any impression on Whit. He hadn’t backed down an inch from his stand that she would marry him, not even relenting so little as to ask her.
“You are very quiet tonight, Shari,” her mother remarked with concern. “Is anything wrong?”
“No,” she lied, aware of the sweep of Whit’s inspecting glance. “I’m just tired I guess.”
She gave up any pretense of finishing her dessert and set her spoon on the bowl’s serving plate. Taking the napkin from her lap, Shari dabbed the corners of her mouth.
“Aren’t you going to eat any more?” her mother protested. “Strawberries and cream are one of your favorites.”
“I can’t help it if I’m not hungry,” Shari insisted, her frayed nerves giving a trace of sharpness to her answer.
“If you don’t want the rest of them, I’ll take them,” Rory volunteered.
“Be my guest.” She laid the spoon aside and passed the bowl across the table to Rory.
“I don’t know where you put all that food, Rory.” Elizabeth shook her head in vague bewilderment. “You have your father’s appetite.”
Whit wasn’t interested in Rory’s bottomless hunger. Shari had his full attention. “After your ride this morning, I expected you to be ravenous. You barely touched your lunch, and you left half your dinner.”
“I guess I’m tired,” Shari retorted defensively. She didn’t want to explain that he was the cause for her lack of appetite. Her glance ran swiftly to the older man at the head of the table. “May I be excused? I don’t care for any coffee.”
As Frederick Lancaster hesitated, Whit clamped a hand on her wrist to keep her in the chair. “No. Stay here,” he ordered. “I want to have a private talk with you after dinner.”
“What does that mean?” She was irritated with his constant orders and didn’t try to hide it from the others. “That you will do the talking and I will do the listening? That’s usually the way it turns out with you.”
“Shari.” Her mother was shocked by her rudeness. “You shouldn’t speak to Whit like that.”
“I can’t be like you,” Shari flashed. “I can’t be meek and simpering, bowing to his every wish.”
“The shock would kill me if you were,” Whit offered dryly.
“In that case, maybe I should try it,” she threatened. Her hand was doubled into a fist as she tried to twist out of his grip. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave the table. We can have ‘your’ talk in the living room, since you seem to think it’s so important. I’ll wait for you there—and by all means, take your time about joining me.”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but she couldn’t keep the hurt bottled up inside her anymore. His mouth thinned into a grim Une as he let her go. Shari didn’t waste time making her excuses to the others at the table. She left the room with her head held unnaturally high.
In the formal living room, she sank immediately onto the plush cushions of the china blue sofa and lowered her head to her hands. She was trembling, too agitated to sit still. Within seconds, she was up, pacing the floor.
When she heard the approaching footsteps and recognized them as belonging to Whit, Shari turned to face the door. Tension electrified every inch of her until she wanted to scream. Hardly any time had passed since she’d left the dining room, yet he was here already.
Whit paused inside the arched doorway and quietly studied her. Shari was tired of always being on the defensive with him. It constantly put her at a disadvantage.
“I told you there wasn’t any need to hurry,” she flashed. “Did you think I was going to run away?”
“You’ve been known to do that when things aren’t going the way you want,” he replied without any sign of anger.
“That isn’t true.” Shari was angry, because she was again put in the position of defending her actions.
“You ran off to college when Granddad wouldn’t give in to your wishes,” he reminded her. “I had to come and drag you back or have you forgotten that?”
“I hadn’t forgotten.” She didn’t want to discuss it. “I wasn’t running away.”
“What do you call it then?” Whit challenged and came further into the room. “I’d be interested to hear your description of it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she countered with an irritated shrug. “That happened three years ago. It’s water under the bridge now.”
“What about a few weeks ago when you allowed your mother to believe you were vacationing with friends on the Coast? You were actually staying at the condominium. I had to bring you back from there, too.”
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” she demanded.
“No.” He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for the real battle. “I think it’s time we cleared up this business about our engagement.”
Shari stared at him for a stunned instant. Her laugh was a short brittle sound. “I’ve been trying to do that ever since you made that ridiculous announcement,” she declared. “Don’t tell me that you are finally listening to me?”
“Something has been eating at you and I want to know what it is,” Whit stated, completely ignoring her caustic response.
His demand to know what was bothering her caught Shari by surprise. She turned away and blinked back the tears that misted in her green eyes.
“I don’t understand you, Whit Lancaster.” Her voice was low and husky. “Sometimes you can be so wonderful—and the next minute you’re acting like a dictator. I wish you could have heard yourself just now.”
“Why?” The carpet only partially muffled the sound of his footsteps coming closer to where she was standing.
“Because you weren’t asking me to tell you—you were ordering me!” Her voice broke and she had to close her mouth to keep from betraying herself.
“And no man is going to order you to do anything.” Whit finished the thought for her. “I had a feeling that was it.”
She turned on him, hurt and angry that he could dismiss it so lightly. “Then why do you keep doing it?”
“I suppose I do it because I love you.” His mouth was twisted in a crooked smile, his voice warm and gentle.
Her heart leaped into her throat at his admission. “That’s the craziest reason I’ve ever heard,” she insisted tightly while her gaze wildly searched his expression to make sure he meant it.
“It isn’t so crazy, not really,” Whit replied. “You have to take into consideration the woman I’ve fallen in love with in order for it
to make sense.”
“Who? Me?” A frown of confusion gathered on her forehead. “Why am I to blame?”
“That’s because you don’t truly realize what I’ve gone through.” His hands curved themselves to her waist and applied pressure to edge her closer to him. “First I had a lot of lusting thoughts to contend with when you were determined to treat me like a brother. Then you ran off to the university and threatened never to come back.”
“I didn’t really mean that,” Shari explained. “Granddad just made it so impossible.”
“But I couldn’t take the chance that you might have meant it,” Whit explained with a ruing smile. “That’s why I came that weekend to bring you home. I couldn’t stand the thought of you not being a part of my life, however small. A few weekends a year was better than nothing.”
“I thought you wanted me back only because of the family,” she admitted, absently bringing her hands up to rest against his chest. His heart beat solidly beneath her fingers, the muscled expanse firm to her touch.
“What other reason could I give?” he countered, and Shari had no answer for that. “I wanted you to feel that you were a part of it—as my wife. I wanted you to feel that you belonged here at Gold Leaf, so part of my reason was based on truth.”
Looking back, it was all so confusing trying to sort out what had been said from what had been meant. She still wasn’t sure that he knew the difference between loving someone and wanting to possess them.
“You don’t know how many times I wanted to go to that university and bring you home for good.” The faint hardness in his eyes backed up his statement. “It was hell wondering about the men you were dating and whether you loved any of them.”
“I didn’t,” she assured him. “A couple of times, I thought I might be close but it didn’t happen.”
“But I didn’t know that,” Whit reminded her. “After meeting your man-hungry friend, Doré, I wasn’t exactly reassured about the company you’d been keeping.”
“Doré does come on strong with guys. She came on to you.” Shari studied his expression, waiting for some kind of reaction. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“I noticed,” he admitted. “But I was too busy trying to keep my hands off of you. You weren’t exactly making it easy for me either—with all your sisterly hugs and big-eyed looks.” He took a hand away to reach inside his pocket. “Which reminds me. I have something to give you.”
Shari recognized the ring box. It was the same one she had given back to him. She nibbled at the inside of her lip, nervously wondering how she could tactfully refuse the ring without letting him know how much she detested it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t give it to me just yet,” she suggested.
“Why not?” His head was tipped downward to give him a better view of her face. “I thought you liked it.”
“It isn’t that, exactly,” Shari hedged, but Whit forced the ring box into her hand. She held it uncertainly.
“Will you open it?” he prompted.
He had actually asked her! After all this time she’d spent waiting for him to say something like that, she couldn’t very well refuse him.
His hands remained loosely on her waist while Shari braced herself for the sight of that awful ring. Something green winked at her when she opened it. Surprise splintered through her. Instead of the cheap-looking diamond engagement ring, the velvet-lined box contained a square-cut emerald ring flanked by a pair of small diamonds.
Her glance flew to his face, seeking an explanation. “This isn’t the same ring,” she murmured.
“I should hope not.” Whit was trying very hard not to smile, but amusement was running through his entire expression. “The other one was a little costume piece I picked up in a dime store.”
“A dime store?” Shari didn’t know whether she should laugh or be offended.
“This is the ring I intended you to wear all along,” he added.
“Then why did you give me the other one?” Her frown deepened.
“You were so angry when I told Granddad that you and I were going to get married, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had flushed the ring down the toilet—or thrown it in the trash.” His smile became more pronounced, and it began to do disturbing things to her.
“I was nearly angry enough to do that,” she admitted. “Especially when you tossed me the ring.”
“I was afraid to get too close,” he mocked.
“Liar,” Shari reproved and slanted him a look. “You’ve never been afraid of anything.”
“You’re wrong.” His expression became very serious. “I was afraid of losing you. That’s why I held on so tightly.” She felt like melting into his arms at that statement. “You were right when you accused me of wanting sole possession of you.”
“Don’t you now?” Her voice was barely above a whisper as Shari held her breath.
“Not in the same way,” he replied. “I finally recognized that today when I watched you and Rebel together. And after the ride, you got your message across, too, about the way I was telling you everything.”
“Do you mean it?” She wanted to believe that he finally understood.
“Let’s put it this way,” Whit suggested and brought her closer, the muscled columns of his thighs pressing against her length. “I’m telling you that we’re going to be married.” Her heart sank a little at the repeat of that same phrase. “But—I’m also asking you if you’ll be my wife.”
“Are you just going through the motions of asking me?” Shari needed to be convinced. “Because if you’re just saying it to get me to wear this ring—”
“Will you marry me?” he interrupted her to formally propose.
“Yes.” Happiness bubbled through her now that she was freely allowed to agree, not hampered by pride or stubborn streaks of independence.
At first, Shari couldn’t understand why he had let her go until Whit took the ring box from her and removed the emerald ring from its velvet bed. She was trembling a little when she offered him her left hand so he could slip the ring on. It fit perfectly.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and meant it.
“It looks as if it had been made just for you,” Whit agreed.
When she finally was able to take her dazzled eyes off the ring, Shari lifted her gaze to his face. Love radiated from her like a fire. She held nothing back.
A faint groan came from him before he crushed her into his arms and bruised her lips with his hungry kiss. Her arms were around his neck, the wonderful weight of his ring on her finger.
All the pain and soul-searching resistance had been worth it. He not only desired her, but he loved and respected her, too. Whit was all the man she had believed him to be—strong and gentle, forceful and gallant.
“I love you,” Shari declared, running her lips over his smooth jawline.
“You took your time telling me,” he complained mildly.
“I have a confession to make,” she admitted. He drew his head back to look at her. “What is it?”
“I was jealous of Doré. At the time, I couldn’t understand it because I was still trying to think of you as my big brother. Only …” she paused a second to peer at him through her lashes.
“Only what?” His interest was captured and he wanted to hear more.
“—only I was already starting to notice how sexy you were,” Shari finished her sentence with a faintly complacent smile.
“Was that the reason for those looks I was getting?” Whit asked.
“Probably.” She remembered the growing fascination she’d felt, but so much had happened afterward, she couldn’t recall exactly.
The sound of someone loudly clearing his throat attracted their attention, as it was meant to do. Neither of them felt any guilt about being seen wrapped up in each other’s arms, their heads close together. They looked toward the archway, only slightly changing their positions. Frederick Lancaster was leaning on his cane with her mother standing uncertainly beside him.
“Come in,” Whit invited, taking one arm from around her while keeping the other one around her waist.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” Her mother continued to hesitate.
“It’s all right,” Shari added her assurance—and a carrot. “I want you to see my ring.”
“Whit got it back from the jeweler’s,” her mother guessed and came forward to dutifully admire it. Her reaction was nearly the same as Shari’s. “It isn’t the same ring?”
“No,” Shari admitted and moved her fingers so the emerald gem caught and reflected the light. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her mother was curious about the story, but she was too polite to ask.
“May I see it?” Frederick Lancaster looked almost humble as he made his request, standing back and not forcing his company on them.
Shari thought he appeared older, and weaker. There was a vulnerable quality about him that she hadn’t noticed before. Even the request seemed out of character.
“Of course, you can, Granddad.” Her voice took on a gentle tone as she held out her hand for him to view the ring.
Slowly he limped forward. His hand shook a little as he loosely held her fingers. “It’s good to see it there,” he said gruffly.
“I haven’t told her, Granddad,” Whit said.
“Told me what?” Her questioning glance was warmly curious.
“The ring—” Granddad Lancaster began, and paused to look at her. Moisture glistened in his eyes. “It was my wife’s engagement ring. I had intended all along to give it to you, Shari, but you ran off to college. So I gave it to Whit with the understanding it would be used as an engagement ring for his future bride. Little did I guess that you would be wearing it anyway.”
“I didn’t realize.” The ring had more significance than she had known. It was a Lancaster family heirloom as well.
“I don’t believe I have ever told you, Shari, but you look very much like my late wife—God rest her soul. She was very beautiful.” The compliment from the Lancaster patriarch was unexpected. “You remind me of her.” A sudden smile touched his mouth. “She was sassy just like you are, too.”
