by Janet Dailey
A certain aura of confinement remained, probably brought on by inactivity. Jill knew Todd and Kerry wouldn't object if she left them alone. In fact, they'd welcome it.
"I think I'll take the coffee service into the kitchen," she announced without receiving any objections in response.
The kitchen was large and spacious with an old breakfast table and Windsor chairs in the center. Despite the modern appliances, the room retained the old-fashioned charm of the rest of the house.
Mary Rivers waved aside Jill's offer to help clean up the few cups and saucers, insisting that it wouldn't require two pairs of hands. Jill stayed for a few minutes anyway. They talked without saying anything.
When she came away from the room, Jill knew her first impression of the matronly housekeeper had been correct. She was a warm, friendly woman and Jill liked her. She hoped the feeling would be mutual.
As she neared the base of the stairs in the entrance hall, the front door opened and Riordan walked in. Nerve ends tensed instinctively. After a fractional pause in her steps, Jill continued forward, her gaze sweeping coolly over his aloof features.
At the base of the stairs, she made a split-second decision and turned to climb them, aware of the long smooth strides carrying Riordan toward her.
"Are you retreating so early?" he mocked softly.
Jill paused on the first step, her hand resting on the polished banister, but she didn't turn around.
"It's been a long day." Silently she added that it promised to be a long month, especially if tonight was any example of what she was to expect.
"Is something wrong, Miss Randall?" Again, ridiculing amusement dominated his voice. Only this time he was at the stairs, stepping to the banister, putting himself in her line of vision.
"Nothing," she shrugged, her gaze striking blue sparks as it clashed with the flint gray hardness of his. Pointedly she directed her attention to the quirking corner of his mouth and the faint smear of lipstick. "You should suggest that Mrs. Benton blot her lipstick. It isn't so likely to rub off."
The grooves around his mouth deepened as Riordan made no move to wipe away the lipstick trace. "The evening hasn't been very enjoyable for you, has it? You're used to a cluster of admirers, I'm sure, but spare tires are sometimes flat. Maybe after a month you'll get used to it."
It was one of those horrible moments when words deserted Jill. An hour from now she would be able to think of a suitably cutting retort that she could, have made. Seething with impotent anger, she couldn't keep her voice from trembling.
"Please tell Kerry that I'm tired and have gone up to my room."
"Of course." Riordan inclined his head with patronizing politeness, the sardonic smile laughing at her excuse.
Her legs were shaking, but they still managed to carry her swiftly up the stairs to her room. Although she wasn't tired, she changed into nightclothes and climbed into bed anyway.
Later she heard Kerry and Todd bidding each other good night in the hall and the closing of their respective bedroom doors. It seemed as if she lay awake a long time after that before drifting to sleep, but she never heard Riordan come up the stairs.
AFTER A WEEK, life at the ranch fell into a pattern. The daylight hours were the ones that brought the most pleasure to Jill. She and Kerry often took exploratory walks in the morning, discovering the beaver pool and other places, but wisely keeping the ranch buildings in sight at all times. In the afternoons they lazed in the sun or helped Mary when she would let them. It wasn't a demanding routine but a welcome change from the hectic college schedule of classes and study.
As Jill had expected, Sheena stopped over. Both of her visits coincided with times that Riordan was at the house—deliberately planned, Jill was sure. Neither visit had changed Jill's opinion of the woman.
Part of Jill's pleasure was derived from the fact that Riordan was gone from the house with the rising of the sun. Todd, too, of course. Generally it was nearly dark before they returned. On only three days had they been close enough to the ranch house to return for lunch, an event that Kerry looked forward to and Jill dreaded.
The evenings were blessedly short. By the time Riordan and Todd returned, showered away the day's dirt and had eaten dinner, it was nearly time to go to bed. Still, it was more time in Riordan's company than Jill wanted to spend. He was constantly baiting her with a word or a look guaranteed to set her teeth on edge. Kerry he virtually ignored, intimidating her into gaucherie merely with his presence.
Since the object of this visit was ostensibly for Riordan to get to know Kerry better, his indifference annoyed Jill, but she was helpless to do anything about it. She could hardly point out Kerry's good qualities as if her friend was a slave on an auction block.
The Tiffany glass pane in the living-room window lacked its usual brilliant color. The thunderheads concealing the mountain peaks had completely blocked out the sun. The fat drops that had been ricocheting off the windows had turned into a sheeting downpour of rain. Serrated bolts of lightning were followed by rolling explosions of thunder that rattled the window panes.
Todd had dashed into the house alone more than a quarter of an hour ago, drenched to the skin. Jill hadn't cared where Riordan was. She was curled in a corner of the living-room sofa staring at the portrait above the fireplace, wondering how that beautiful woman could mother two so very different sons.
"Hi, where's Kerry?" Todd walked into the living room, tucking a clean shirt into his dry trousers.
His brown hair was still damp, gleaming almost as black as Riordan's. For an instant the resemblance between the two brothers was strong. It vanished when Jill met the friendly hazel eyes.
"In the kitchen, making you some hot chocolate," she replied.
"That woman is going to make some man a great wife," he sighed, sinking into the wing chair opposite the sofa. A crack of lightning was ominously close. "Rain, rain, rain!" A smile of contentment turned up his mouth. "I was beginning to think I was never going to have an afternoon off. What have you been doing this lovely rainy day, Jill?"
Her gaze swept to the portrait. "Reading," she answered absently, although the book had been discarded on the cushion beside her for some time. With a curious frown, she glanced to Todd. "May I ask a nosy question?"
"Ask it and I'll decide whether I want to answer it," he grinned, obviously refreshed and in a jesting mood.
"The portrait of your mother is still hanging above the fireplace. I guess I was wondering why." She tipped her head to one side, watching Todd's teasing smile fade as he turned toward the portrait, a soft admiring affection in his gaze. "She and your father were separated for nearly eighteen years, weren't they?"
"It's always hung there ever since I can remember. And separated isn't really the right word to use." Todd leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful when he glanced at Jill. "They lived separately, which isn't quite the same thing. For nine months of the year mom and I lived with her father. In the summer, we came here."
"Every year?"
"Every year," he nodded. "I'd wake up one morning in Helena and Mom would say we were going to the ranch. She never called ahead to say we were coming, but I can't remember a time that dad wasn't there to meet her. It's very hard to explain how very much they loved each other, but they did, genuinely. And every summer it was like a honeymoon. They would laugh, talk in whispers, and dad would steal a kiss every once in a while. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I saw them simply gazing into each other's eyes. Then on an August morning, mom would say we were going back to my grandfather's."
"But why?" Confusion clouded Jill's eyes. "I mean if they loved each other so much, why did they live apart?"
He breathed in deeply and gazed at the portrait. "Mother couldn't stand the isolation of the ranch. She needed people around her. She was gregarious, always wanting to meet new faces. I can remember her telling me how she used to pray for something to break down when she lived here. It didn't matter what it was as long as it required a r
epairman to fix it and she would have someone new to talk to if only for an hour. For eight years, she said that she kept thinking she would adjust. Finally she couldn't tolerate it any more."
"It's a miracle they stayed in love all those years. Being separated nine months of every year would put a strain on any relationship," she declared with an amazed shake of her blond hair.
"Dad did come to Helena every year at Christmas time for a couple of days. Riordan came, too, until he was about sixteen. On our way up here the other day, you asked me about Riordan as a boy," Todd frowned absently. "I think in a way he believed that mother deserted him and dad, even though Riordan realized that she had wanted him to live with her. He never said anything to me, but I imagine he thought she had lovers. She never did, Jill. You can't hide something like that for eighteen years, not even from a small boy, and I lived with her all the time. There was only one man for her and that was my father. It was a very special and rare kind of love they had for each other, and one that was very strong."
"It had to be," Jill agreed, staring at the portrait.
"Do you know what dad used to call her? His butterfly."
Everything inside Jill seemed to freeze. The chilling that stopped her heartbeat halted the breathing of her lungs. A numbing paralysis spread through her limbs. A resentment that had been manifested in Riordan's childhood was responsible for his bitter dislike and contempt of her, another butterfly.
"There you are, Todd." Kerry's happy voice came from the open doorway. "I fixed you some hot chocolate. I thought you might like some after your drenching?'
"Remind me to marry you," Todd winked, grabbing her hand as she set the cup on the walnut table between the two wing chairs.
"I will," Kerry laughed but with a breathless catch.
Thunder clapped, vibrating the walls.
"Todd!" At the sound of Riordan's commanding voice, Jill nearly jumped off the sofa.
The thunder had evidently drowned out the opening and closing of the front door. He was standing in the doorway, his clothes comparatively dry. A telltale dampness around his shirtsleeves and collar indicated he had been wearing a rain slicker.
"Just because it's raining, it doesn't mean there isn't work to do," he said curtly.
Jill kept her face averted from those discerning gray eyes. All of her senses were reacting to his presence with alarming intensity.
"I've just changed into dry clothes," Todd grumbled in protest.
"If you'd taken your slicker, you wouldn't have got soaked," was the unsympathetic response. "Come on, we might as well sharpen the mower blades."
"There goes my afternoon off!" Sighing, Todd rose from the chair, smiling apologetically at Kerry. "Thanks for the cocoa, honey, but I'm afraid you'll have to drink it."
When the front door closed behind the two men, a long resigned sigh broke from Kerry's lips. "Here, Jill, you drink it. I don't want it."
The cup was set on the table in front of the sofa. "Hey!" Jill scolded, catching the look of utter depression on her friend's face. "It's not the end of the world. Todd will be back."
"In time for dinner." Kerry stuffed her hands in the pockets of her slacks and walked dejectedly to the window.
"You knew he had to work when we came," Jill reminded her.
"I knew." The downcast chin was raised to stare unseeingly through the rain-sheeted glass.
"Don't let the weather get you down. Why don't we start a fire in the fireplace? That ought to chase away the gloom."
"It's not that." Kerry turned tiredly away from the window. "Haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"We've been here seven days and in all that time I've seen Todd alone about a total of one hour. He works from dawn to dusk, never has any free time, and at night his brother is always around."
"And me, too," Jill inserted gently.
She suddenly realized that she had been so anxious to insulate herself from Riordan, she hadn't considered that Todd and Kerry would want to be alone. And it had been one of her prime objectives on their arrival.
"I'm not blaming you," Kerry assured her quickly.
"I know you're not, but maybe there's something I can do to arrange some time for you and Todd."
"If only there was!" Kerry's brows lifted expressively.
Surprisingly, an opportunity presented itself that evening. Jill had been deliberately pleasant to Riordan at the dinner table, not overly so in case he suspected some ulterior motive. Mostly she attempted to avoid exchanging innuendos, asking questions without becoming too personal.
When the four of them left the table to have coffee in the living room, as had become the custom, Riordan glanced out through the night-darkened windows. "The rain has stopped. We'll have to get out and check the stock tomorrow."
"It isn't raining?" Jill repeated, taking hold of the opportunity. "If you three don't mind, I think I'll skip the coffee. After being in the house all day, a walk sounds very welcome." Riordan was behind her, so he didn't see the wink she gave Kerry.
"Of course not," Kerry answered, a secret sparkle of understanding in her brown eyes.
"I'll get my sweater." Jill started for the stairs and paused. "I'd better see if Mary has a flashlight I can borrow." She laughed lightly. "I don't want to stumble over something and break a leg in the dark."
"I'll come with you," Riordan said.
"There's no need," she refused quickly. "I'll be all right by myself, honestly."
"I'm sure you would be, but I'll come with you just the same." The chiseled features were aloofly set, a faintly sardonic quirk to the ruthless mouth.
Jill hesitated, deliberately giving the impression that she would like to argue the point. Riordan wasn't as easy to manipulate as some men she had known.
"All right." She gave in after letting him hold her wavering gaze with his long measuring look. "I'll get my sweater."
A pulse was throbbing much too wildly in her throat when she descended the stairs, sweater in hand. She blamed it on the disturbing gray eyes watching every step. Her breathless smile was genuine. She had taken the time to run a brush through her hair and add the shimmer of gloss to her lips.
With no false modesty, she knew she presented an alluringly innocent picture. This time, unlike the previous time she had tried to trick him, the emphasis was on the alluring rather than the innocent. He might despise butterflies, but Riordan was human—Sheena proved that.
Her feet carried her lightly across the hall and through the door he held open. She paused outside long enough for him to close the door and turn to join her. Then, leading the way, she moved down the few steps to the stone walk. As she turned onto the lane, she pretended to ignore the man walking a fraction of a pace behind her.
The course of the rutted lane across the meadow had been a deliberate choice. Here she would be walking directly in the moonlight, its silver gleam catching the sheen of her lips and accenting the blondness of her hair.
Her eyes swept the panoramic landscape. It wasn't necessary to pretend an enchantment with the night's beauty. A lopsided moon was directly in front of them, dominating the starfire of the black sky. In the distance, Jill could see the bank of thunderclouds and the lightning that played hide and seek within.
"It's beautiful," she murmured as if to herself, but she had not forgotten for one instant that Riordan was with her.
"Yes."
The dry cynicism startled Jill. A glance at that strong profile told her that he was untouched by the beauty of the night or her. As unyielding as his expression was, the moonlight had softened the rugged lines, giving him a dangerous, ruthless kind of attraction.
Jill had forgotten how tall he was and the way his well-proportioned frame gave a deceptive impression of leanness. Strolling beside him the way she was, she was aware of the solid muscles in his arms, chest and legs.
"Don't you think it's beautiful?" She paused when he did, questioning the reason for his less than enthusiastic response.
A mat
ch flamed to the end of a cigarette and was shaken out. His silver gaze swung to her face, metallic and reflecting.
"Are you angling for a compliment?" Riordan taunted.
"A compliment?" she repeated blankly.
"Wasn't I supposed to be affected by the vision of your loveliness in the moonlight?" His mouth twisted into a jeering smile.
Anger sparked in her eyes as she unflinchingly met his steady look. "No." Her voice was calm and completely indifferent.
Smoothly she started forward, feeling his doubting gaze on her profile and knowing that she had intended to prompt some measure of admiration. She'd cut off her arm before she would admit that.
"Aren't we supposed to talk about Todd and Kerry?" The sarcastic inflection of his low voice whipped at the raw edges of her temper.
Jill kept walking, gazing at the mountain meadow without seeing anything. "If you want to," she shrugged carelessly.
"Isn't that why you invited me along?"
"I didn't invite you along, Riordan. You invited yourself," she reminded him, sending him a complacent glance through the sweep of her lashes.
His mouth twitched with amusement. "I know you wanted me to come with you. I just haven't figured why." A gauzy cloud of smoke was blown ahead of them, the wispy trail waiting to ensnare Jill.
"My reason for taking this walk is nothing more complicated than a desire to be outdoors in the fresh air," she defended airily. She tossed her head back to send him a glittering look. "The evening is much too peaceful to start an argument with you."
"You've been conciliatory all evening. Why, Jill?" The husky issuance of her name started a disturbing reaction in her stomach.
"I've already told you."
"You've given a reason, but you haven't told the truth."
The man was too perceptive by far. "Why don't you tell me what the truth is?" she challenged lightly.
"I imagine a girl as beautiful as you has become accustomed to large quantities of admiration from the opposite sex. After a week here, you might be in need of a man's company," Riordan suggested mockingly. "A casual flirtation to keep in practice."
