by Diana Palmer
None of that would matter, she thought miserably, watching him. She loved him.
He saw that adoring look and it was the only hope he had. He couldn't go on without telling her. He should have told her at the very beginning, before they'd married. He hadn't expected that things would develop like this between them. He'd been shocked by his own desire for her, as well as by hers for him. But what kind of future could he offer her? His eyes darkened with torment.
"Trust comes very hard to you, doesn't it?" she asked gently.
"Harder than you know,"he replied. "Trusting people.. .letting them get close. I've always been a loner, all my life. But if it's any consolation, nobody's ever been as close to me as you are."
Her heart swelled with that reluctant admission. "Isn't it strange the way things have worked out?" she asked. "I went to San Antonio feeling that it was all over. And now..."
"Have you ever considered that what you feel for me might be infatuation?" he asked, frowning. "You're remarkably innocent yourself."
"I had George Simon hanging around all the time," she said, with a faint smile. "I couldn't even let him touch me. And," she added wryly, "even after what you'd done to me I still preferred being hurt by you to being pleasured by any other man."
He ground his teeth together. "And you didn't even know that I hadn't hurt you deliberately."
"Oh, I knew you hadn't done that," she said, repeating what she'd already told him. "I know you very well, Cole. I've seen you nurse a bird with a broken wing back to health. I've seen you bandage coyotes—the songdogs that some legends say would stay with a wounded man and protect him from predators until help came. Other people kill them, but not you. A man who can feel that kind of compassion even for a wild animal isn't likely to deliberately hurt anyone."
He turned away. My God, she knew him! She saw right through him, and that was vaguely disconcerting. No one ever had, until now.
"Other people don't see you that way. You frighten the men and intimidate the women," she said dryly, beginning to walk again. "But I've loved you for a long time. I see you in a different light."
"I've never loved anyone," he said slowly. "My family, of course, but it isn't he same, is it?" He glanced down at her. "So many things are new with you. Touching. Holding. Wanting."
"For a rank beginner, you're not bad," she said in a husky, vampish tone, batting her long eyelashes at him.
Instead of being offended, he laughed. "You damned tease," he muttered. "Look out, or I'll throw you down in the dirt and take you right there."
Her face went red and her breath rustled softly in her pale throat. "Why, you mountebank!" she accused. "And you said I'd been seeing too many Valentino movies!"
He lifted his chin arrogantly. "I sneaked into a theater when none of the boys were looking and saw that movie—the one about the sheik," he confided dryly. "I can't imagine how the moviemakers got away with it. Shocking!"
"I bet they'll make a fortune. The way he backs her up against the wall of the tent, and that look in his eyes..." She shivered. Her blue eyes darted up at his face. "Reminds me of you."
"Does it?" he tossed the cigarette down and caught her up in his arms, lifting her clear off the ground. "If things were different, I'd have made love to you back there." He jerked his head toward the tree where they'd lain.
Her arms linked around his neck hesitantly, so that she didn't disturb him. "Cole, does it have something to do with—with why you don't want me to see your body, or touch it?" she asked daringly.
He actually trembled. His eyelids flinched. He started to speak, his lips were actually moving, when the sudden sound of approaching hoofbeats interrupted the subtle spell.
His head turned as Turk came galloping up, looking oddly amused when he saw the boss with his wife in his arms.
"Excuse me. I didn't you two were going to be spooning in the middle of the trail,"Turk drawled, tugging his hat over his eyes.
Lacy leaned back in Cole's hard arms and glared up at him. "You're not the only lady's man around, Mr. Sheridan." She grinned. "And you don't have the advantage of dark, smoldering Latin eyes."
Cole actually laughed. Despite the gravity of the situation, and the horror he expected to see on her face once she knew his secret, he laughed.
"Valentino in the flesh." Turk grinned. "Yes, I do see the resemblance."
"Do you want a job?" Cole asked his friend. "The stables need mucking out—"
"Don't let me interrupt you,"Turk said quickly. "It's just that old man Cameron is coming up the road hell-for-leather; he's been drinking, and his face is bloodred. I think you're in trouble."
"I wonder what in hell little Faye has told her Daddy?" Cole sighed bitterly. He put Lacy down. "I knew there was going to be trouble when Ben told her he was going to miss her birthday party."
"I don't think it's that," the blond man said, with a quick glance at Lacy.
"I do know the facts of life," she told the ex-flyer. "I won't turn into a lily pad if you mention the word sex in front of me."
Turk burst out laughing, and Cole's face broke up.
"Ben's probably seduced her. Isn't that what you're trying so hard to insinuate?" Lacy asked Turk.
"The very thing," he replied easily. He crossed his hands over his pommel. "Ben sneaked out two nights in a row to go and see her before he left for San Antonio. One night I followed. He went to the Cameron place."
"And?" Cole prodded.
"She was waiting for him at the front door. Nobody else was home. Her dad's car was missing."
Cole made a hissing sound. "Oh, sh—" He remembered Lacy and bit off the rest of the word. His upbringing wouldn't allow range language in front of a lady. No decent man swore around women, although his father certainly hadn't spared his mother.
Lacy threw up her hands. "I give up. What has suffrage gotten us, anyway? Equality only on paper and in the cities." She put her hands on her lean hips and glared at the two of them. She enunciated the word quite clearly and gave him a triumphant smile. "Isn't that what you were—Cole!"
He'd aimed a sharp slap at her backside and connected, inclining his head with a jerk when she jumped and turned red. "Say it again in front of me and see where it gets you.. .and equality be damned!"
Turk was trying to hide a grin. Lacy stomped her foot, turned, and stormed off toward the house.
"What a hell of a woman," Cole said, with obvious admiration, watching her. "Oh, God. I'll die if she walks out a second time."
"She won't," Turk said quietly. "Not that lady."
"She doesn't know," Cole said, watching the black Model T Ford come crawling up the long drive.
"It won't matter to her. Haven't you noticed the way she looks at you, you idiot?"
"Infatuation wears off," Cole replied. "And she's not like some women. She isn't going to be happy without—"
"What if it was her?" the other man demanded hotly. "Think about it. What if it was her instead of you? Would you walk away?"
"I don't know," he said bitterly, averting his eyes. "God, I don't know! It would take a hell of a lot of love to accept what I am."
"She's got a hell of a lot." He hit the other man on the shoulder with rough affection. "Unbend a little. You'll break. And speaking of breaks, here comes your next outburst of bad temper. I'm leaving before I get caught in the crossfire."
"I ought to give him Ben," Cole grumbled.
"I'll help you catch the boy,"Turk promised. "He could use a little trouble. You've paved his way all his life." "Who else was there?"
"Point taken. Okay, I'm gone. Domestic squabbles are not my first love."
Cole just kept his eyes on the black car as it chugged up just in front of him and stopped.
Ira Cameron dragged his black-suited bulk out of the car and straightened meticulously. He needed a shave. His jowls hung down almost to the stained white collar of his shirt, and his hair looked as if it had recently been stuck to the inside of a cereal bowl. His hammy hands both met on the doo
r as he closed it, and he stared at Cole blankly until his small dark eyes could focus.
"There you are, Coleman," he mumbled. He leaned on the hood, glaring at the younger man. "I been looking for you. What's this about your baby brother ruining my baby girl?"
"Women don't get ruined, they get laid," Cole said imperturbably. "And Ben wouldn't need to rape one."
"That's a lie!"
"Oh, hell, Ira. You know she worships him," Cole muttered as he pulled out the makings and began to roll a cigarette. "She's run after him for months. What do you want me to do? Drag him back from San Antonio and force him to marry her?"
The heavyset man shifted restlessly. "It would save her good name." He nodded slowly.
"It would ruin her life," Cole shot back. "Living with a man who was forced to marry her... She'd hate him. And go ahead, Ira. Ask me how I know."
Ira cleared his throat. "Heard that young Ben played one joke too many. Still, he wouldn't be a bad son-in-law."
"He's engaged. To some fancy city woman. Rich, too."
Ira sighed. "Well, that's that, then," he muttered. He ran a hand through his sweaty salt-and-pepper hair. "Hell, now what do I do?"
"Send Faye over and let Lacy talk to her," Cole replied, knowing that his feisty wife would know exactly what to say, even if he didn't. He smiled a little. "She's got a way with people. She isn't even afraid of me."
"That makes her a minority, all right. But Ben oughtn't have seduced her."
"I'll agree with that," Cole said. "And he'll hear about it when he comes down here."
Ira nodded. Cole was as good as his word. "You tell him I think he's a scoundrel. And if sets foot on my place again, I'll blow off his leg."
That was drunken bravado and frustrated pride, and Cole recognized it as such. He only nodded back, letting the older man get away with it.
Ira straightened. Well, he wasn't such a weakling after all; he'd even stood up to Coleman Whitehall. "I'll say good day, then."
"Be careful in that thing," Cole said. "You're a little shaky on your feet, old fella."
"I'll be fine, you know. Just sampling my own product." He grinned. "Chicago ain't the only place that can produce bathtub gin. And times is hard, Cole."
"So I've noticed."
"I can let you have a bottle."
"I don't drink," came the quiet reply.
"Oh. Well. Too bad. I'd hate like hell to have to face the day sober." He lifted his hand and got back into his car. He almost ran it through two fences getting it turned, but he finally made it down the road.
Cole watched him go, sighing bitterly. So Ben had jumped another fence. Poor little Faye. Ben should've known better. And Cole was going to give him hell when he came down here. He owed Faye that much. Poor little kid. Wearing her heart out on a man who didn't want her. He cocked his head toward the house. Was he doing that to Lacy? Was that how she'd felt when he'd let her run off to San Antonio and hadn't gone after her?
He grimaced. He felt almost as sorry for himself as he felt for Faye. He knew that Lacy was aroused by him, that she cared for him. But his own feelings frightened him. He was going to have to trust her with all his dark secrets, and that might mean losing her forever.
He didn't know how he was going to go on living if he laid his pride at her feet and she turned away from him.
He lifted his cigarette to his mouth, took a draw, and ground it out underfoot. Well, there was only one way to find out. If she truly cared about him, perhaps it would all come right in the end. and if not... He turned back toward the corral. It might be just as well not to think about that right now.
Chapter Eight
Ira managed to stop the car just in front of the steps—no mean feat when he could barely find the brake. He staggered out, weaving for a moment on the wide running board before he went around the car and sat down heavily on the wooden steps.
"Papa, what did he say?" Faye asked nervously from the doorway. She was wringing her hands with frustration and unease. Telling her father about Ben's seduction of her had been a last-ditch stand, but even as she wailed, she'd known it wasn't going to work. She couldn't possibly compete with the San Antonio woman Ben had mentioned. She'd lost him. Her father's face told her own story, and she felt as if her heart had withered inside her frail body.
"Ben wasn't there. Coleman said he'd talk to young Ben," Ira said. "Won't do any good, though... What with him just getting engaged and all."
Faye thought her heart would stop beating. "En—gaged?"
"That's what Cole said. To some woman in San Antonio." He grimaced at her expression. "Faye, don't cry. There's a honey. I'm sorry, girl."
"Oh, Papa!" Faye ran back into the house in tears. How could Ben be so callous? He'd never said he loved her, but surely he realized that she was a good girl? She'd never even kissed anyone except Ben, and here he was about to marry that socialite!
She threw herself across the bed and wailed until her throat was sore and her eyes were red. She wasn't pregnant. She'd wanted to be, but the three times Ben had made love to her had been rushed—and he hadn't even been quite sober any of them. There wasn't going to be a baby. Ben didn't know that, though. She brightened a little at the thought of Coleman telling Ben. It might bring him back to her. Even if he didn't love her now, she could make him love her. She'd treat him so good he'd have to love her. All she had to do was hold on and she might win him yet, despite his fancy woman...
A few minutes later, Marion Whitehall sought out Lacy, unaware of the reason for Ira's abrupt departure out front.
"You look worried," Lacy said as they had coffee together in the kitchen.
"I am," Marion replied. She sat down heavily; she didn't look well. She was pale. There were new lines in her face more gray in her once-dark hair. "It's Benjamin's party. However shall we—"
"There's nothing to worry about," Lacy interrupted, smiling. "I talked Cole into letting me take care of the expenses."
Marion all but gasped. "You did? But how?"
That was something Lacy wasn't willing to admit. She creamed and sugared her coffee, avoiding Marion's sharp eyes. "I appealed to his logic," she replied. "Anyway, he'll allow me to do as I think best. Ben will have his party."
"But will he come to it?" Marion said miserably. "Lacy, he's so reluctant. It's almost as if he's—well, ashamed of us. Those San Antonio folk he's staying with are monied people. Perhaps he doesn't want his future father-in-law to see how we live here."
"How we live!" Lacy put down her coffee cup. "Marion, we're quite civilized. We have indoor plumbing, electricity, even a telephone!" She stopped short of mentioning that she could compete quite comfortably with Ben's city friends with her own inheritance. She didn't say it because she didn't want to make Marion feel worse.
"But we're not wealthy, dear. And these newspaper people would see that. I do not like to think of how Coleman would react to snobbery."
Neither did Lacy. "I'm sure they have manners," she said, but she didn't sound or feel convincing.
"Ira was here about Faye, wasn't he?" Marion continued. "I suppose Benjamin's done something scandalous to that poor girl?"
"We're not suppose to know," came the dry response. "We're the weaker sex. We must be protected from such things, lest we suffer the vapors." She made a fainting gesture with her arm across her eyes.
"We have the vote, dear. We no longer have the vapors," Marion reminded her, with a smile, her mood lightening a little. "All the same, I worry, Lacy," she added. "Faye is a delicate child, all eyes and thin lines. She seems so ill at times, as if she can barely get around at all."
"She's a sweet little thing. But Ben is very young still—and in love with the idea of being a famous journalist. He is talented, you know.. .and marriage to a newspaper heiress can't hurt his career."
"Is his profession more important than his family?"
"Give him time," Lacy said gently. "He's a Whitehall. He'll remember it one of these days. He's feeling his wings for the first
time. Let him fly."
Marion leaned back against her straight-backed chair. "I shall pray that he doesn't land himself in a cactus plant."
"You do that." Lacy laughed.
"It's just that— Oh, my!" Marion sat very still and her eyes widened. Her hand went to her chest. "Such… pressure! Lacy, how odd..."
She pitched headfirst toward the floor; only Lacy's quick intercession saving her a bad fall. But Marion was unconscious, and Lacy was scared to death. She didn't know what to do, so she ran for the back door and yelled for Cole. Please God, let him be in the barn and not out on the ranch somewhere!
As if in answer to a prayer. Cole came out of the dark barn at once. "What is it?" he called.
"It's Marion! Do hurry! I'm afraid it's her heart!"
He broke into a run and made it through the kitchen door just as Lacy was holding a bottle of ammonia under Marion's nose in an attempt to bring her around.
After a minute, the older woman began to stir, coughing. Lacy helped her into a sitting position with Cole's help.
"I feel so sick," Marion said, swallowing. She was deathly pale and her skin felt clammy.
"I'm sorry, but we'll have to drive you in to Dr. Simon, Mother,"
Cole said quietly. "No arguments ," he added when she hesitated. "This isn't the first spell you've had. It's time to let a doctor tell us what's wrong."
Marion subsided. "Very well," she said weakly. "But I shall be sick all the way."
"We can carry a basin and a damp cloth with us," Lacy suggested, and went to fetch them.
Together they got Marion into the runabout, and Cole drove them to town.
Lacy had been hoping for a miracle. None was forthcoming. Dr. Simon diagnosed Marion's condition as heart dropsy. It was a death sentence, as they all knew. Weeks, months, maybe a year, but Marion's fate was sealed just that quickly, just that finally.
Cole was silent all the way home, and Lacy and Marion talked halfheartedly about the weather. Dr. Simon had prescribed some pills for Marion, to help the pain, and bed rest as long as her weakness and nausea persisted.
