The Rebel

by J. R. Ward

  “I know.” So why did he feel deflated?

  “Are we going to do this thing or what?”

  Nate forced himself to speak. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  He hung up and found himself staring at Frankie’s hand as it gripped the pen she’d been moving in aimless circles. Her knuckles were white.

  “I hope you get the place,” she said brightly as she looked up. “I know you’re going to be a huge success.”

  But her eyes didn’t meet his. They were focused over his shoulder, and when he glanced behind him, he saw what she was looking at.

  It was the picture of her family together, taken all those years ago.

  FRANKIE SNUCK OUT OF THE house an hour later. Nate was busy getting faxes off the machine and reviewing his offer. He’d looked up when she told him she was going out. He’d wanted to know where she was headed and she told him she wasn’t sure, she’d just wanted some air.

  Except she knew exactly where she was going. And she wanted to go there alone.

  She crossed Route 22 and walked into the woods, picking up the dirt road. When the trailhead appeared to the left, she stayed in her tire groove as it curved in the opposite direction. When the cemetery’s entrance appeared, she faltered briefly, the sight of all the gravestones chilling her. But she forced herself to keep going, stepping forward and walking around the gate. Inside, the grass under foot was long, ready for a mowing.

  Her parents’ headstones were over to the left and she went to them slowly. Joy’s flowers had long wilted and the pink taffeta bow had collapsed in on itself. Frankie picked up the bouquet, stripped off the bow and tossed the dead flowers into the bushes.

  While she tucked the ribbon into her pocket, she read the inscription on her father’s marker. It was a relief to find she didn’t feel like screaming at him. She was sad and she missed him, but she was too distraught to yell.

  Nate was leaving, her heart was breaking, and what she was looking for from the slate headstones, what she wanted from the cool quiet of the place, was peace. Peace with her decision to stay when part of her wanted to go. Peace with the sacrifice she was making.

  She looked at her mother’s stone and reached down to brush off some of the memorial hemlock’s needles from the top.

  Maybe she’d also come up because of what Alex had said to her the night before. The idea that her parents would have been proud of her was a balm of sorts. And Alex, though he didn’t say a lot, always spoke the truth.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she sat down in the grass and leaned back against the hemlock. Its trunk was strong, supporting her weight easily while she stared at her parents’ graves.

  She took deep breaths in spite of the ache in her heart. And after a while, a kind of calm came. There would be no peace, she realized. Not without Nate in her life. But there was relief to be had that White Caps was safe for at least another year or two. Alex would be able to recover at home. Grand-Em would have the continuity with her past that helped preserve what little of her sanity was left. And Joy wouldn’t have to go out and get some office job to support herself. She could continue to design dresses and work with the fabrics she loved so much.

  And as for her, Frankie thought. What would she have?

  Her family.

  They’d been enough for her before she’d known Nate. And they would have to suffice now, too.

  Because as much as she loved him, she couldn’t give up her sister and her brother and her grandmother and her home and the place she loved to live in just for a man who was only “emotionally attached.”

  If he’d loved her, things might have been different.

  But he’d never said the words and she wasn’t about to ask. That was just too much like begging for her to stomach.

  Besides, if you had to pose the question, chances were you weren’t going to like the answer.

  THE NEXT MORNING, NATE woke up alone. He’d over-slept after having tossed and turned for most of the night. The bid that he and Spike had put together was a good one and he should have been thrilled. But triumph was not what had kept him up.

  He swung his legs over the side of the mattress and looked out at the water. It was another crystal clear day, an early harbinger of fall’s arrival. Looking at the cloudless blue sky, he thought of Frankie saying that she’d found herself in the seasons of Saranac Lake.

  He could see why.

  When he went downstairs, he looked for her and found her in her office. She smiled at him, but her eyes were vacant. This was not a surprise. Ever since the call from Spike had come in yesterday, she’d been pulling away by inches and then feet. She’d even stayed on her side of the bed last night.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

  She shuffled some papers. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  Her tone was flat, as if he were a guest.

  “Badly.” He stepped into the room. He wanted to talk with her about when she’d come down to the city to visit in September, when he could come back to White Caps.

  As if by making plans, he could keep them together.

  “Listen, Frankie—”

  The phone rang and she answered in that same pleasant monotone. But then her voice grew tense. “Mr. Robinson, thanks for getting back to me so fast. What’s the ring worth?”

  Nate scanned her face, hoping it was a big number. A huge number. A number that would keep her house safe. Take some of the pressure off of her. Make her happy.

  But her mouth sagged and her eyes blinked rapidly.

  A sickening jolt went through him.

  “You’re kidding me,” she whispered. “No, no, I trust you. I do. You were always fair to us before. Yeah, I’ll come by and pick it up. Actually, could you just mail it to me?”

  When she put the receiver down, her skin was the color of fog.

  “Paste,” she murmured. “The ring is paste. Worth maybe a hundred bucks.”

  Nate cursed under his breath.

  The sound of his voice seemed to energize her and she leaped to her feet, throwing her chair back. Her body began to shake, her eyes going opaque with frustrated agony. She looked down, breath coming out in short bursts as her emotions surged.

  There was a long silence so tense, he thought he was going to have to scream for her.

  But then with a violent heave, she pushed everything off the top of her desk. Just swept it clean with her arms. The phone and the pens and pencils, the pads of paper and the files, it all hit the floor in a loud clatter. She started crying in great heaves, making guttural noises that were nothing like words. Wheeling around, she looked with wild eyes at the room as if searching for something else to destroy. And then she threw herself upon her bookshelves with a vengeance. She tore at them with clawlike hands, ripping the volumes out, slinging them behind her.

  He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he quickly shut the door to the office and braced his back against it, in case anyone tried to get in. He knew exactly how she felt. When he’d learned about what Celia had done to their child, he’d trashed his whole apartment.

  But Frankie didn’t take it that far.

  Moments later, she collapsed on the floor, in the middle of the mess she’d made. She was crippled by wave upon wave of the dry heaves, falling on to her side, her tears streaming down as her body spasmed.

  That was when he went to her. He gathered her close, but held her loosely because he didn’t want her to feel trapped.

  As he held her sobbing body, he realized he couldn’t leave her.

  Not for the dreams he’d held for so long. Not for Spike. Not for the promise of independence and respect.

  God, he loved her. He loved her. Loved her like no other. And life without her, even in the glamorous world of New York City, was going to be pale and uninteresting and worthless.

  He smoothed her hair back from her face.

  And realized he had the power to do what the ring couldn’t. He had the money to save her house.

  Keeping
her against his chest, he dragged the phone over. He had to work to get a dial tone, but eventually one came and when Spike answered his cell phone, relief hit Nate like a linebacker.

  “I can’t do it, Spike. I’m sorry, man, I can’t do it. I can’t put that offer in.”

  Frankie stiffened against him.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” his friend demanded.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got…another thing I have to do.”

  Frankie pulled away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “What are you doing?” she croaked.

  Spike was equally shocked. “You can’t be serious—”

  “What are you doing?” Frankie repeated, voice getting stronger. “I’m not going to let you—”

  “What the hell are you saying, Walker!”

  Nate gave them both a chance to yell at him. And then he took control of the situation.

  “Let me call you back, Spike.” He hung up and held on to Frankie as she tried to stand up. “I can help you, Frankie. The money I have will—”

  “No! I don’t want your charity,” she said.

  He grinned. Such a damn fighter. “Then how about we go into business together? Partners.”

  She shook her head, still trying to get away from him. “No. No way. You’re going to end up hating it here. You’re going to resent me and this house and everything you’ve given up.”

  “Since when can you see into the future?”

  “Nate, I’m not going to let you do this. Just because you feel badly for me—”

  “Shut up.” He kissed her. “I love you. That’s why I’m doing it.”

  She blinked at him, as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. “You what?”

  “I. Love. You.” God, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. It was positively singing in his chest. “I love you. I love you. I love you. You know, those three words have quite a ring to them.”

  Frankie shook her head. “But what about your dreams? You’re giving them up.”

  “Naw. Just changing their address. And I’ll talk to Spike. I don’t think he cares where we are as long as we’re working.”

  When she just stared at him, he felt a moment’s panic. What if she didn’t love him back?

  Nate stroked her cheek with his thumb, tension tightening his shoulders. “Say something. Frankie? Will you please…just say something.”

  “I love you, too,” she blurted.

  He closed his eyes. “God, I was hoping—”

  “But you’re crazy! To give up—”

  Nate kissed her long and hard, pushing her back down against the floor in the mess of papers. He’d meant only to quiet her, but the passion took over and soon she was moaning and he was nudging her legs apart. As he settled against her body, he found her breast with his hand.

  His voice was hoarse as he whispered into her throat. “And exactly how do you think I’m giving up anything? When we have this?”

  Her hands came up and covered her eyes. “I hope I don’t wake up now. I hope this is actually happening.”

  “I want to marry you.”

  She dropped her hands to the floor and laughed. “I really hope this isn’t a dream.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Frankie looked up at him. Her eyes were full of tears again, but instead of pain, they were glowing with love. She reached out and touched his face.

  “Truly?” she said, as if afraid to believe it.

  “I want you to be my wife. Right now, as a matter of fact. You know a justice of the peace?”

  She smiled. “Actually I think the plumber’s one in his spare time. And given the number of hours he’s spent here lately…”

  “So we’re engaged?”

  She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down. “Yeah, we’re engaged.”

  “Good.” He mouth found hers, but he was gentle this time. “I love you. God, I just want to keep saying that.”

  She broke the sweet contact. “Nate?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I know who I want to be my bridesmaid.”

  “Joy will be thrilled.”

  “Well, yes, but I want another one.” She laughed. “I want Lucille to be at our wedding. Because if she hadn’t broken down, you never would have walked through my back door.”

  Nate grinned, feeling as if everything in his life had fallen into place. “You know something? That car’s going to look wonderful in a taffeta skirt.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0773-8

  THE REBEL

  Originally published as BEAUTY AND THE BLACK SHEEP

  Copyright © 2005 by Jessica Bird

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