Most of all she wanted to experience the closeness they’d shared more than twenty years ago in that shabby motel room. So many times in the intervening years she’d yearned for this man, ached to feel his touch again. Now, miraculously, he was holding her.
Maybe it was meant to be and she should stop fighting her emotions….
Appalled at her weakness, Camilla suddenly spurred her horse and bounced up the trail toward Tom and the children, leaving him behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CLOCK in the front hall chimed softly, announcing midnight. The old house was wrapped in stillness. Jon lay in his big carved-oak bed, hands under his head as he stared at the ceiling.
He pictured Camilla just a few feet away, sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Jon couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind, and the fact that she was so close to him in the darkness was almost unbearable.
It had been a long time since he’d wanted any woman so fiercely. He could hardly keep himself from getting out of bed, slipping down the hall to her room and gathering her into his arms.
He was constrained by the knowledge that the twins were asleep in their room across the hall, with Vanessa’s next to them. And there was also something about Camilla Pritchard herself that kept him from pressing too hard. With any other woman, he would almost certainly have made his move by now.
But in spite of her beauty and intellect, Jon sensed a touching kind of shyness, almost a childlike air about the elegant college professor. Somehow, even though she was in her late thirties, she seemed like a woman who’d been protected from the harsh realities of life. There was an innocence in Camilla that was both charming and frustrating.
He tensed, suddenly alert. A muffled sound carried through the quiet, something different from the normal creaks and nighttime groans of the big old house.
Jon sat up, wondering if one of the children was having a nightmare. He detected cautious footsteps padding down the hall, and caught a brief glimpse through his partly open door of blond hair silvered by moonlight.
It was Camilla. The stairs protested softly as she began to descend, picking her way cautiously to keep from waking the household.
Jon climbed swiftly out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a pair of leather moccasins, grabbed a shirt and edged into the hallway.
He heard the front door open and close, and wondered for a crazy moment if she might be sleepwalking. But when he went out onto the veranda he saw her sitting in the porch swing, wrapped in a blanket as she gazed at the stars.
He crossed the wooden floor and stood next to her. She looked up at him, startled, her eyes wide and frightened in the moonlight. When she recognized him, she smiled awkwardly.
“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured. “Did I wake you?”
“Not at all. Matter of fact, I can’t sleep, either. May I join you?”
She hesitated, then moved over to make room for him on the swing. “Do you want some of this blanket?” she asked. “It’s kind of chilly out here tonight.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind sharing.”
He watched as she unwrapped the blanket and spread it across their knees, then pulled it up under her chin and settled back in the swing again.
It was a cozy, pleasant feeling, sitting with her in the darkness and sharing the blanket. Jon enjoyed her closeness so much that he was almost afraid to speak for fear of breaking the spell.
“Can you name all the constellations?” she asked, looking up at the dazzle of stars in the blackness above them.
“Most of them. When I was a little boy, I used to take a sleeping bag out on the prairie along with a flashlight and my astronomy textbook, trying to locate all of them.” He looked down at her shadowed face. “Did you ever do something like that?”
She turned away, avoiding his eyes. “Not that I can recall.”
“And then when I was older,” he went on, leaning back to gaze upward again, “I had a motorcycle for a few years. I liked to ride around after midnight and look at the stars.”
For some reason, she seemed alarmed. He could feel her arm tense as she gripped the blanket tightly against her chest.
“You must have had a wonderful childhood,” she said at last.
“It was pretty good, all right.” He touched the floor with his foot to set the swing rocking gently. “I wish my kids could grow up here the way I did, but there’s no decent school in the district anymore.”
“I don’t think it hurts them to live in the city during the winter,” Camilla said. “The twins really need the mental stimulation. And this way, all four kids can have the best of both worlds.”
He glanced at her delicate profile. “You’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully. “At least the twins seem a lot happier now than they did at first.”
“Children adapt so quickly. Especially younger ones like Ari and Amy.”
They rocked together in silence for a while, looking at the stars.
She seemed strangely vulnerable out here, and more mysterious than ever. It was all he could do to keep from putting his arms around her. He longed to learn all about the woman, to break through the barriers of cautious reserve and win her trust.
“Camilla,” he began.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you tell me about your childhood? I don’t even know where you grew up. I’ve heard all these wild rumors from other people, but nothing at all from you.”
She drew the blanket snugly under her chin, huddling in its warmth. “I don’t like to talk about myself,” she said in a low voice.
“Why not? I’d like to know all about you. In a strange kind of way,” he said when she didn’t answer, “I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. But I really don’t know anything about you at all.”
“There’s not much to know. I’m a very ordinary kind of person.”
“No jet-setting? No trips to Paris or fancy parties at the Kennedy compound?”
“Hardly,” she said dryly. “I don’t even go to the faculty parties on campus.”
“So what do you do for fun? Any hobbies, or rare and interesting talents?”
“I’ve told you before. I just work on lesson plans and research projects, and look after my cats.”
He chuckled. “Now, that sounds like a whole lot more excitement than most people could stand.”
But she didn’t smile in reply. When he stole a glance at her, she was looking at the stars again. The bleak look on her face touched his heart.
“Camilla,” he whispered, putting his arms around her and drawing her close. “You’ve been looking sad all day. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she murmured against his chest. “I’m all right.”
He could feel her tension, but she didn’t pull away. His arms tightened around her. She was slender and delicate in his embrace, and so desirable that his body shuddered with longing.
“I’ve never met anybody like you,” he whispered against her hair. “There’s something about you that just makes me crazy. I don’t know what it is.”
She shifted briefly in his arms, then nestled closer with a faint smile. “Look, that’s no way to talk to your teacher.”
He laughed, delighted that she was actually relaxed enough to make a joke. “Why not?” he whispered. “Maybe it’ll get me a better grade.”
“You don’t need help to get good grades. You’re an excellent student.”
He stroked her hair, then bent to kiss her cheek. “That’s good to know,” he said softly. “Is there anything else you want to teach me?”
“I doubt…” Her voice caught and she hid her face against his neck. “I doubt that you need much instruction. You seem like a pretty competent fellow.”
He grinned. “I’ve always thought so, but nowadays I’m not so sure.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re making me feel like a teenager again.”
She was silent, resting warm and gentle in his arms. Jon stroked her face, then lifted it t
o kiss her eyelids, her cheeks and mouth.
The woman was so delicious. Her skin felt like silk, and her lips were warm and soft in the chill of the autumn night.
“Oh, Camilla,” he whispered, kissing her again, feeling her mouth open in response. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”
His body surged with passion. He gathered her closer, kissing her hungrily, and began to run his hands over her body under the warm shelter of the blanket.
For a moment she yielded and pressed against him. He could hear the way her breathing quickened, and sensed the urgency of her response.
I knew it, he thought, exulting in her sweetness and fire. This woman has all kinds of passion. She’s not cold at all.
Abruptly she pulled away and got to her feet, muttering something inaudible.
“Camilla,” he said, grasping her arm. “What is it?”
“I’m not…Oh, God. I’m sorry, Jon, but I just can’t do this. I can’t…”
Then, before he could say anything, she was gone.
NEXT MORNING, Camilla woke from a troubled sleep and lay in bed watching rays of pale sunlight wash through the flowered chintz drapes. She rolled her head in confusion, wondering where she was.
At last her thoughts fell into place, along with that midnight scene on the veranda. She moaned softly and rolled over to bury her face in the pillow.
What must he think of her?
She’d come on this trip as a favor to his children, and then behaved with such shocking abandon, practically throwing herself into the man’s arms.
Camilla remembered the feeling of that embrace, the hard strength of his body and the warmth of his kiss. She felt another surge of the hungry longing that had haunted her for so many years.
It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to pull away from him last night and hurry back to her room. In another five minutes she’d probably have yielded completely and found herself waking up in his bed this morning.
“God help me,” she whispered, sitting up and gazing at her pale face in the mirror above the oak dresser. “I have to keep my distance from that man.”
She hurried into the adjoining bathroom, washed and dressed quickly, then opened the door and ventured into the hallway, wondering where the rest of the family was. The big house seemed unnaturally quiet in the crisp early light.
It was just after eight o’clock on Sunday morning, the day of the twins’ birthday party. Maybe nobody was awake yet. Or maybe they’d all been up for hours and were outdoors by now.
She crept downstairs to the kitchen, where Vanessa sat alone at the big oak table with a cup of coffee.
“Hi,” Camilla said. “Are we the only ones up this morning?”
The girl shook her head. “Daddy and the kids are outside helping Margaret gather the eggs. They’ve already had their breakfast. Margaret left some scrambled eggs and toast for you, and I made a fresh pot of coffee.”
Camilla felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to confront Jon right away. Maybe after a few cups of coffee, she’d feel stronger.
“I feel so lazy,” she murmured, crossing the room to pour herself some coffee. “The rest of you must have been up for hours.”
“Most people sleep late when they visit here,” Vanessa said. “It’s probably all the fresh air.”
“I think you’re right.” Camilla smiled at the girl, then sat down at the table across from her. “Do you like coming to the ranch?”
Vanessa shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. May I get you some eggs and toast?”
“That would be very nice, thank you.” Camilla watched as the girl moved around the kitchen, filling a plate with scrambled eggs and toast. “You’re really beautiful, Vanessa,” she said impulsively. “You look so much like your father.”
“My father?“ Vanessa was so startled that she dropped her usual air of lofty boredom and looked at Camilla in astonishment. “You think so?”
“You have quite a few of his mannerisms. You hold your head the same way, and your mouth is shaped just like his. I suspect,” Camilla added with deliberate casualness, “that you have a lot of tastes and attitudes in common with him, too.”
“Well, he sure doesn’t think so,” Vanessa muttered bitterly. “Daddy thinks I’m just like my mother.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know enough about you to make a proper judgment,” Camilla said. “Maybe you should talk to him and tell him what you’re really like.”
“What do you mean?” the girl asked, sitting down in the opposite chair.
Camilla swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs and took a bite of toast. “I’ve spent most of my life doing just what you’re doing now, Vanessa. I’ve lived in a secret world and kept my real self hidden behind a wall where people could never see me. After that becomes a habit, you can’t seem to do anything else, even if you want to.”
Camilla looked at her plate, hardly able to believe she was actually saying these things. The contact with Jon Campbell and his family seemed to make her say things she’d never dream of telling people otherwise.
The whole situation was getting more dangerous all the time. After this weekend, she definitely had to put an end to it. But in the meantime, she couldn’t help feeling a wrench of sympathy for the beautiful, unhappy girl who sat across the table.
“What kind of secrets do you have?” Vanessa asked, then flushed in embarrassment. “Totally dumb question, right? If you could talk about them to a stranger like me, they wouldn’t be secrets.”
“That’s the problem.” Camilla toyed with her fork, using the tines to make neat crosshatched patterns in the tablecloth. “The things we can never bring ourselves to talk about are most often the things that control our lives.”
“You mean, things that have really hurt us?” Vanessa asked in a low voice.
“Or frightened us,” Camilla said. “The two usually go together in our minds. And they’re so powerful we can’t seem to get past them on our own.”
The girl looked up again, wide-eyed. “But I can’t believe you’ve ever been hurt or frightened in your whole life. You look so…”
“What?” Camilla asked when the teenager paused.
“So composed and elegant,” Vanessa said, flushing again. “Like you grew up as a princess in some kind of royal family, and had every kind of privilege a person could dream of.”
“Believe me,” Camilla said dryly, “those looks are deceiving. Can you keep a secret, Vanessa? You won’t tell this to anybody else?”
The girl nodded solemnly.
“Well,” Camilla went on, “there was a time when I was terribly hurt and frightened of my own shadow.”
“How old were you?” Vanessa breathed, clearly fascinated.
“Just about the same age you are now. I was on my own with no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go. I would probably never have found my way back to safety except that a kind person came along and helped me.”
“My God.” Vanessa stared at her, lips parted in astonishment. “And now you’re so—” She stopped abruptly, then looked down, running her fingers along the wooden handle of the spatula. “Do you ever talk about any of it?” she whispered. “The bad things that happened to you, I mean?”
Camilla shook her head. “I can’t. I know enough about psychology to understand it would be healing for me to talk about it to somebody, but I can’t seem to find the words. I’ve never spoken of it in any detail during all these years.”
“But your life is still a huge success. You’re not lost anymore.”
“Whatever I’ve managed to achieve has been because I…” Camilla paused and took a deep breath. “I realized a long time ago that it was necessary to reach out somehow and get beyond my own misery. I decided to help people who were suffering the same way I had suffered. Now it’s become a major part of my life.”
“Helping people?”
“Yes.” Camilla took another sip of coffee.
“But where?” Vaness
a asked. “Do you mean, helping your students at the college?”
“No, it’s something that has nothing to do with my work at school, just a chance to get involved and reach out to people who are going through terrible struggles. There’s nothing I’ve done that’s more meaningful.”
Vanessa was silent a long time, looking down at the table. Her dark hair fell like a curtain to shield her face. “And that makes you feel better?” she asked. “It takes away some of the hurt?”
“Yes,” Camilla said, touching the girl’s hand. “It takes away the hurt.”
Vanessa looked at her wistfully for a moment. Then her face set and she shook her head. “There’s no point in my trying something like that,” she said bitterly. “I’m so much like my mother, nobody would ever believe I wanted to help. They’d all think I was only pretending or making fun of them, and hate me for it.”
“Maybe you should give them a chance,” Camilla said. “Why don’t you reach out a bit and see how people respond? They might surprise you.”
“But don’t you see?” Vanessa whispered, her face twisting with pain. “I’m afraid they may be right.” Vanessa began to cry, lowering her head onto her folded arms. “I look so much like her,” she said in a muffled voice. “And I act just like her, too. I’m as bad as she is.”
“Oh, Vanessa.” Camilla reached out to put her arms around the girl’s heaving shoulders. “Vanessa, listen to me. People who are really, truly selfabsorbed never give their selfishness a second thought. It doesn’t even occur to them that they’re doing anything wrong. Do you understand? The fact that you worry about being selfish is absolute proof that you’re not.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Vanessa said. “So…if I were to…reach out to other kids who’ve been lonely and scared like me, where would I begin?”
“In your own home,” Camilla said quietly. “That’s always a good place to start.”
“You mean, the twins? But they have so many people to help them. And Steve’s really bitter about a lot of things that happened to us in our childhood. He’s never going to accept any help from me. I don’t know how I could…”
Memories of You Page 16
