by Brenda Joyce
She raised her hand. He immediately understood what she intended and dropped the trunk in order to catch her wrist and restrain her.
"Blast you!" Regina cried furiously. His grip hurt her and brought her to her senses. Ladies, even ones with no money, did not strike gentlemen, no matter what the provocation. But it was too late. For he had caught her other wrist, hustling her up against the wall.
Instantly he pressed his steel-hard body on hers in order to immobilize her. He was successful. She was unable to move her hands or her body and her back seemed to sink into the rough stone wall.
"What is it?" he demanded.
She slumped beneath him, physically drained from their brief yet strenuous tussle. But she had the strength to look into his eyes, and hers were tearful and accusing. "I trusted you!"
"A mistake," he said grimly. "Are you calm? I didn't realize a lady like you could have such sharp claws, and I don't relish wearing your mark."
She realized that she couldn't speak further. Her anger and hurt had not dimmed, but awareness of another sort was rapidly dawning on her. She thought that she could feel every interesting male inch of his body. They were closely pressed against each other. Somehow, his knee had slipped between hers, and his thigh had aggressively inserted itself against her loins. It was shocking. Her body's response was even more shocking.
Regina realized that he was staring at her, but not with any interest in what she might have to say. He was studying her mouth, and the line of her neck, then the full curve of the top of her bosom, crushed beneath his chest. His intent perusal quickened her already keen senses. Restraining the anticipation flooding her body was impossible.
Regina found herself looking at him with equal intensity. It had never occurred to her before that the thick fringe of a man's eyelashes could be erotic, or that the slim line of his nose could summon up an urge to feel his face nuzzling hers. His lips were parted. His face was very close to hers. Close enough that she could see how smooth and unblemished his dark skin was, except for the tiny crow's-feet around his eyes that testified to his many years of squinting into the sun. For they most certainly were not laugh lines.
His gaze slowly lifted. His body pulsed against hers. Regina stared.
"Maybe you should stay mad," he said in a low, rough voice.
He was right. She was angry, just as she was hurt, and while his betrayal could be ignored for a moment, it could not be forgotten. "Please remove your person from mine," she said, trembling.
A smile, ice-cold, mocking the heat of his body, curved his mouth. It was thoroughly unlikable. "Have I finally been demoted?" He stepped away from her with apparent indifference.
She had no idea what he was referring to. "I think you should get out of my room."
"I thought I was your hero." He didn't move.
"Heroes don't lie."
"So I have been demoted. What did I lie about?" His voice was flat, as if devoid of even the tiniest spark of interest. "Is that why you're crying?"
"I'm not crying. My eyes are-wet."
"An allergy."
"Yes."
He lifted a brow. "What has brought on this… allergic reaction?"
"Don't you dare mock me." Her anger blossomed again.
"I wasn't aware that I was mocking you. Maybe you're mocking me." His glance slid over her, not quite indifferently.
Her eyes widened when she guessed his meaning. "I assure you, I am not leading you on!"
"No? You led Edward on. Maybe you led James on. Did you?"
She stiffened, incredulous. "I was not leading your brother on!"
"You were grinning at him like an idiot. Is that kind of talk what a woman really wants to hear?" He strolled around the periphery of her room, not looking at her.
"It was a game. A game of words. That's all."
He leaned his back against the opposite wall, his arms crossed. "But you seem to like to play it. Edward definitely likes to play it."
"It's not a matter of liking it or not." Somehow, he had maneuvered her into a very defensive position, and her back was against the wall in more ways than one.
"No?"
"No! If s a matter of being polite. Of being a lady. Edward was just being a gentleman."
"And if I tell you how pretty you are, does that make me a gentleman, too?"
She went still. Her heart was pounding erratically for an unfathomable reason. His gaze held hers. She sensed the serious nature of his question. "No. No, it does not."
"I didn't think so."
How could he deflate her anger so easily, and turn the topic onto another course? "You try very hard not to be a gentleman, don't you?"
He grinned, but it was forced. "Do I?"
"I can see through you, Slade."
His grin died. He pushed himself off the wall. "I don't really care what you think you see. And if you want to flirt with Edward and call it polite, go right ahead, I sure as hell won't stop you. But maybe I should warn you. Edward may be a gentleman in your book, but he's also a man."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he wouldn't mind stealing a kiss or two. In fact, if you encourage him, I'm sure he will."
Regina drew herself up. "I am not encouraging him." But her face grew red when she recalled, very clearly, how she had encouraged Slade.
Slade looked at her. "Do what you want."
She trembled. He thought the worst of her. He thought her immoral. But she was, wasn't she? Not with Edward, who, as handsome as he was, did not elicit the slightest interest from her. But with Slade. She had asked for his kiss in the buggy, and just a moment ago she had wanted another.
They stared at each other. The silence was thick with tension. Regina was quite certain that he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I think I had better return to town," she said unevenly.
He regarded her before walking past her to the balcony. Heavy clouds had suddenly appeared to cast long, almost purple shadows on the ocean. The breeze was becoming more noticeable, too.
"No," he said, his back to her. "With your pretty smiles and pretty speech, as -polite as you are, you'd be prey for every man drifting by. Rick is right. You had better stay here until you regain your memory."
She was unsure. She had come to Miramar because she had no place to go, and because she had trusted Slade to protect her in these bizarre circumstances. But she no longer trusted him. He had lied to her. Yet she still wanted to trust him, as incredible as that might be. She wanted that very much. But how could she? She could not trust a man who hoped to use her. And it hurt to be Slade's hapless victim.
And now there was the undeniable fact of her interest in him as a man. She did not want to remember the feel of his kiss or his body. She did not want to be aware of how handsome he was, how male and virile he was. She did not want to be interested in him.
In that moment Regina was afraid. Not of her circ
umstances, of her loss of memory, of the truth of her identity and what had happened, but afraid of the enigmatic man standing on the other side of the room with his back to her. And maybe, just maybe, she was afraid of herself. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He didn't move, watching the clouds sailing toward them. "Tell you what?"
"That Rick intends for us to marry."
He turned. "Victoria been flapping her gums a bit?"
Regina waited, well aware that her eyes were bright again with unshed tears that signaled a fresh wave of hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I can see you're not too happy about the prospect."
"I trusted you."
"I didn't tell you because I haven't made up my mind yet," Slade said brusquely. "Truth is, I haven't agreed to marry you."
"What?"
"I told Rick I'd think about it."
"You told Rick you would think about it."
"That's right."
She could barely believe her ears. She had assumed that Slade was planning to marry her for her money. But he wasn't. He was considering it. That he hadn't agreed and forced her to make a choice should relieve her, but it did not. The situation was no less conspiratorial just because he had yet to put his final stamp of approval upon it. "I trusted you."
"That's the second time you've said that."
She closed her eyes, resolved not to cry, at least not until he had left her room. She inhaled and it gave her strength. "You realize that it would be absurd?"
"How absurd?"
"Completely absurd."
"How come I get the feeling that your objection has everything to do with me-but not one damn thing to do with James?"
She stepped back reflexively, shocked at his rage. In truth, she had forgotten all about her dead fiancй, and that Slade was his brother.
"I thought so."
"I can't even remember James," she protested.
"But I can," he said.
His pain was as primitive and dark as his other emotions had been earlier in the buggy. She knew she should not be witnessing it, just as she should not have glimpsed even briefly so deeply into his soul. "It's not my fault. James's death is not my fault. That I can't remember him is not my fault. Believe me, I wish I could remember him-and I wish he were not dead."
He glared at her, inexplicably furious. "You know what, Elizabeth? Damn you." He wheeled past her and slammed out of the room.
Regina cried out. His curse immobilized her, then she ran to the double doors and caught them before they banged again. She did not pull them shut. She stared after Slade, tears finally slipping free to stain her cheeks, tears very similar to the ones she was sure she had just glimpsed in his eyes. But they were crying for very different reasons-or were they?
Regina had no intention of remaining at Miramar another moment. Coming here had been a mistake. For Miramar was no longer an inviting sanctuary. She could not get past the fact that Slade had betrayed her trust. The wound was unbearable. It shouldn't matter as much as it did; in reality he was only a stranger, but logic did not rule her heart. He most certainly was no longer her savior. And that brought forth a new urge to weep.
She needed him. Didn't he realize that? How could he do this to her when she needed him so!
Yet even as she prepared to leave, she could not shake him from her mind, she could not stop thinking about him. She remembered everything she shouldn't remember, from his concern when he had rescued her, to his conflict with his father, to his kiss. And she found herself thinking "if only." If only she did not have amnesia, if only she were not James's fiancйe. But the reality could not be changed by wishful thinking.
She would leave all of her things. Because it had been so blazingly hot and sunny down-valley she exchanged her perky little hat for a wide-brimmed straw bonnet, even though the sky had become overcast. She also donned low-heeled walking shoes. They looked brand-new, but she was afraid to tarry and search for another, broken-in pair. Because she was in a rush, there was no time to plan. She decided that in Templeton she would wire her stepmother for assistance. Within minutes she was ready to leave. Her instincts urged her to flee before she might change her mind. She knew better than to ask Slade or any member of the household to take her to town. They would refuse, or attempt to talk her out of leaving. Because they wanted her to marry Slade; because they wanted her money.
The house was built on a hill. She went to the terrace overlooking the sloping grounds outside, and beyond that, the frothing ocean. For one second she wondered if rain was on its way-the sky was becoming positively dreary; and the ocean had become quite rough. She shrugged off the moment of hesitation. She had to protect herself and her own interests, for there was no one else to do it for her. Not anymore.
Regina walked out onto the terrace and debated climbing over the railing and dropping the ten or twenty feet to the ground. As she stood there in indecision, a shadowy image formed in her mind, and, just for an instant, Regina thought she could see someone she knew, someone dear to her, laughing and telling her that she could do it. For one split second it was so real that she could see the person, and then the instant was gone.
Regina froze, gripping the railing. The memory was gone-and it had been a memory. She had remembered somebody, someone important to her. She was certain of it. But now, that person was shrouded in the darkness of her amnesia.
Who was it that she knew who could leap off terraces so bravely? She yearned for the answer, and she was terribly disappointed that the identity of the person eluded her when she had grasped it seconds ago. Frustration brought stinging tears to her eyes.
Nevertheless, Regina turned to the task at hand. She did not have to have her memory in order to know that she was not the type to leap off terraces, and she moved away from the railing. Not stopping to think, because it would only make her hesitate, she slipped out into the courtyard. She ran across it and theft through the adjacent front courtyard as well. When she reached the front gate she paused against the wall beneath two lemon trees, panting and trying to catch her breath. The wind was picking up. It lifted her skirts and whipped them against her legs. She strained to hear, waiting for shouts of discovery, but there were none.
Her heart beat wildly now. Running away made her feel like she was committing a criminal act. She peered through the iron gates. Perhaps because of the weather, or perhaps because of the time of day-it was mid-afternoon, siesta time-there was no. one about. When they had arrived at the house several hours ago there had been a great deal of activity around the stables and corrals. The timing could not have been better. Regina darted out of the courtyard.
She hadn't planned on taking a horse, but now she knew she would have to do so if she wanted to reach Templeton by nightfall. Traveling on foot was out of the question. There had been no tra
ffic on the road when she had traveled it with Slade, but even if there had been, she would not even consider trying to get a ride to town with a stranger. The very idea was unacceptable.
She wasn't thrilled with the idea of taking a horse out by herself, either. That afternoon she had learned that she was a poor horsewoman. But she would manage; she had no choice.
She saw no one as she crossed the grounds and approached the stables. Amazingly, a glance into the barn showed Regina that not even a groom was within. It could not be any better. She ran inside. It was dark within but she didn't dare turn any lights on. She found the tack room and dragged a saddle and bridle from it. She was quite certain that she had never saddled a mount before.
Regina chose the most placid-looking animal in the stable. Although the horse seemed oblivious of her, it took Regina a very long time to manage to lift the saddle and secure it into place, and even longer to bridle him. By now the bay gelding was looking at her, although he stood motionless. Regina praised him in high, nervous tones. Moments later she led the docile animal from the stall.
The worst was over. Relief filled her. She dragged open the barn door and assured herself that no one was about. On the slope slightly above her, the sprawling adobe house appeared deserted and lifeless.
Trying to remain calm, Regina led her mount to a bale of hay, stepped up on it by sweeping her skirts up and out of the way, and, ignoring the awkwardness and utter lack of decorum of riding astride, she slid onto the saddle. She grabbed the pommel as the bay jiggled.
