September Morning Page 8

  She suddenly noticed the new lines in his face, the bloodshot eyes. “Were you really worried?” she asked.

  One big hand came out and ruffled her hair with rough affection. “What do you think?” he asked. Something in his face seemed to relax as he looked down into her soft eyes. “I've been out of my mind, Kate,” he whispered, with such emotion in his voice that her heart seemed to lift up and fly.

  “Blake…”

  “Here I am!” Larry said merrily, joining them with his suitcase in his hand. “All locked up.”

  Kathryn folded her arms across her chest and tried to look calm. “How are we going to get across the river?” she asked Blake.

  “I chartered a helicopter,” he said with a wry smile.

  She smiled. Leave it to Blake to make the most insurmountable problem simple.

  ***

  Maude and Phillip had shared Blake's apprehension about the bad weather and Kathryn's absence, but they played it down. Vivian only shrugged when Kathryn told them about the rough trip home. She was much more interested in meeting another man to bat her false eyelashes at, Kathryn thought maliciously. The blonde was still glued to Blake and, remembering what was going on between them, Kathryn felt a twinge of pain. Blake had been worried about her, of course he had. But as his ward. Nothing more.

  “You're very quiet tonight, darling,” Phillip remarked when the rest of the family was gathered in the music room to hear Vivian play the grand piano. Kathryn had to admit that she was good. Larry, who played a little himself, sat and watched her with a rapt expression. It had all been a bit much for Kathryn, after the rough afternoon. She had slipped out into the hall and gone into the deserted kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. Phillip had followed her.

  Sitting, her slender hands contracted around the cup, she crossed her legs, making her beige silk dress swish with the motion.

  “I like that dress,” Phillip remarked, perching himself on the edge of the table facing her. “One of the new ones, isn't it?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Larry liked it, too.”

  “I like Larry,” he grinned. “He makes me feel mature and venerable.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “He what?”

  “He's young, isn't he?” he asked drily, eyeing her over his cup.

  “Ouch,” she murmured impishly.

  He laughed at her. “You know what I mean, don't you? Beside him, Blake looks even more formidable than usual.” The grin faded. “Did he cut you up?”

  “Blake?” She shook her head. “Surprisingly, no. I guess I should have told him I was going in the first place.”

  “Maude finally reached him in Atlanta.” He emptied his cup and let it dangle in his hands. “He flew to Charleston, you know. It was a devil of a risk, but he took the chance. You were headed home by then. He had the state troopers after you.”

  Her face went pale. “I didn't realize…!”

  “He'd been waiting three-quarters of an hour at the hotel when you got there,” he added. “Sweating out every minute—along with the rest of us. Small cars are dangerous when it floods. I'm surprised he didn't really blow up. I imagine he felt like it.”

  She studied the coffee in her cup. “Yes, I imagine so,” she whispered. Her eyes closed. She'd never have done it anyway if she hadn't been upset by what Vivian had told her at the breakfast table, but she couldn't tell Phillip about that. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Just foolhardy,” he corrected. “When are you going to stop fighting Blake?”

  “When he lets go of me,” she said curtly.

  He only shook his head. “That could be a very long time…”

  ***

  Greyoaks was imposing in the morning sunlight, and Kathryn reined up beside Larry to admire it.

  She sighed. “You should see it in the spring when all the flowers are in bloom.”

  “I can imagine.” His eyes swept over her slender body in her riding clothes. “You look completely at home on a horse.”

  She patted the Arabian mare's black mane. Sundance had been a little sluggish this morning, so she'd brought the mare instead. “I've been riding for a long time. Blake taught me,” she added, laughing at the memories. “It was grueling, for both of us.”

  Larry sighed, studying the reins in his pale hands. “He doesn't like me.”

  “Blake?” She avoided his eyes. “He's hard to get close to,” she said, knowing full well that wasn't completely true.

  “If I planned to be here longer than three days,” he admitted, “I think I'd buy a suit of armor. He makes me feel like an idiot.”

  “He's in the middle of labor disputes,” she told him soothingly. “He and Dick Leeds are trying to work out some kind of agreement.”

  Larry smiled. “It looks like he's putting more effort into working on the daughter. A dish, isn't she? And talented, too.”

  Kathryn forced a smile onto her full lips. “Yes, she is.”

  “Are they engaged?” he asked with a sly glance. “I get a strong feeling that something's happening there.”

  “I think they are,” she replied. “Let's head back, Larry. Mrs. Johnson hates to serve breakfast twice.” She wheeled the mare and shot off ahead of him.

  The question brought it all back. Of course they were engaged, and she couldn't understand why Blake was so concerned about keeping it a secret. The whole business made her angry. And Blake had told Vivian about…Her face flamed. She could never forgive him for that. And the conceit of the man, thinking that she was naive enough to read anything into that kiss. She'd put his treachery out of her mind yesterday, in the face of Blake's obvious concern for her safety. But now, with the danger over, it was burning holes in her temper. Damn Blake, anyway!

  What you need, Kathryn Mary, she told herself as she leaned over the mare's black mane and gave her her head, is a place of your own!

  ***

  She dismounted at the barn and waited for Larry to walk up to the house with her.

  Blake and Vivian were the only ones at the breakfast table. Kathryn, smiling like a film star on display, clung to Larry's thin arm as they joined the others at the table.

  “What a lovely ride,” Kathryn sighed. She glanced at Vivian. “Do you like horses?” she asked.

  “Can't stand them,” Vivian said with a smile at Blake's taciturn face.

  Kathryn's green eyes flashed, but she held on to her temper.

  “The estate is very impressive,” Larry remarked as he helped himself to bacon and eggs from the generous platters. “How many gardeners does it take to keep the grounds so neat?”

  “Oh, Blake has three yard men, don't you, darling?” Vivian answered for him, leaning her muslin-clad shoulder briefly against his.

  Kathryn wanted to sling scrambled eggs at her. She quickly lowered her eyes before any of her companions could read them.

  “My parents have a garden about a fourth the size of yours,” Larry continued, “without the gazebo. Dad's hobby is roses.”

  Blake lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair to study the younger man with an unnerving intensity. “Do you grow flowers too?” he asked cuttingly.

  “Blake!” Kathryn protested.

  He didn't even glance at her. His whole attention was concentrated on Larry, who reddened and looked as if he might explode any minute. Despite his easygoing nature, he did have a temper, and it looked as if Blake was trying his best to make him lose it.

  “Do you?” Blake persisted.

  Larry put his cup down carefully. “I write books, Mr. Hamilton,” he said tightly.

  “What about?” came the lightning reply.

  “Pompous asses, mostly,” Larry grated.

  Blake's dark eyes glittered dangerously. “Are you insinuating something, Donavan?”

  “If the shoe fits…” Larry returned, his blue eyes icy.

  “Stop it!” Kathryn burst out. She stood up, throwing her napkin onto the table. Her lower lip trembled, her eyes flashed. “Stop it, Blake!” she whisper
ed furiously. “You've done nothing but pick on Larry since he got here! Do you have to…!”

  “Be quiet,” he said coldly.

  She closed her lips as if he'd slapped her. “You're horrible, Blake,” she whispered shakily. “Larry's a guest…”

  “Not mine,” he replied, glaring at Larry, who was standing now, too.

  “You're right there,” Larry replied gruffly. He turned to Kathryn. “Come and talk to me while I pack.”

  He left the room and Kathryn turned back at the doorway to glare at Blake. “If he leaves, I'll go with him, Blake,” she told him furiously.

  “You may think you will,” he said in a soft, dangerous tone.

  “We'll see about that,” she choked, whirling.

  ***

  Kathryn's pleas didn't deter Larry. He packed in record time and had started to call a cab when Dick Leeds came out into the hall and stopped him.

  “Vivian wants to do some shopping in Charleston,” he said with a quiet smile, “and since the river's down, it's quite safe. Phillip's going to drive us, and you're welcome to ride along. We'd be happy to drop you at the airport.”

  “Thank you,” Larry said. He reached down and pecked Kathryn lightly on the cheek. “Sorry, love. I'm very fond of you, but not fond enough to take on your guardian.”

  She stiffened. “I'm sorry it worked out like this. Give my best to Missy.”

  He nodded. “Goodbye.”

  She watched him walk away with a sense of loss. It had all happened so fast. Her head was still spinning with the suddenness of it. She tried to piece together Blake's unreasonable behavior. He'd done his best to break up her friendship with Larry from the beginning. But why? He had Vivian. Why did he begrudge Kathryn a boyfriend? She hated him. Somehow, she had to get out from under his thumb.…

  ***

  She stayed out of sight until they left. Blake wasn't to be found, and she thought he'd gone with the rest. Maude had tried to persuade her to come along, to Vivian's obvious irritation, but she'd refused. She couldn't have borne being shut up in the same car with Larry and Blake both.

  She walked through the damp hedges to the gazebo. The grass and shrubs were still wet from the previous day's heavy rains, but inside the quiet confines of the little white building with its delicate latticework and ring of cushions, it was dry and cozy.

  She sat down on the plush cushions and looked out over the cobblestone walks that led around and through the well-kept gardens. Although the azaleas and dogwoods that bloomed gloriously in the spring were not in season now, the roses gave the gardens a dash of color. The fragrance of the white ones was delicious. She closed her eyes and drank it in, along with the warm breeze that made the September day more like summer.

  “Sulking?”

  She jumped at the sound of Blake's deep, curt voice. Her startled eyes found him in the entrance of the small building, a smoking cigarette in his hand. He was wearing the same beige slacks and yellow knit shirt he'd had on at the breakfast table, and the same forbidding scowl.

  She scowled back, curling her jodhpur-clad leg under her slender body, tugging her white sweater down. “Haven't you done enough for one morning?” she asked angrily.

  One dark eyebrow went up. “What have I done? I didn't ask him to leave.”

  “No,” she agreed hotly. “You just made it impossible for him to stay and hold on to his pride.”

  He shrugged indifferently. “In any case, it's no great loss.”

  “To you,” she added. “Your girlfriend's still here.”

  He eyed her carefully. “Yes,” he said. “She is.”

  “Naturally. She's your guest.”

  He shouldered away from the entrance and walked toward her, stopping just in front of her. “Would you really want a man who was afraid of me?”

  Her eyes shot up to his. “No,” she admitted sharply. “I'd like one who'd beat the devil out of you.”

  A slow, mischievous smile touched his mouth. “Had any luck yet?”

  She tore her gaze away, remembering Jack Harris and a string of others. “Why didn't you go with them? Vivian seemed to have taken a shine to Larry last night.”

  “Vivian's tastes are not necessarily mine.”

  Kathryn stared down at the dark green cushions, tracing a pattern on the one where she was sitting with a nervous finger.

  “Why wouldn't you let him stay, Blake?” she asked bitterly. “He wasn't bothering you.”

  “He wasn't?” He finished the cigarette and flung it out on the cobblestones, where it lay smouldering briefly until the dampness doused it. “The damned young fool, letting you drive in that downpour! I should have broken both his legs!”

  She gaped at him. “It was my car, he couldn't very well tell me to let him get behind the wheel!”

  “I could,” he replied gruffly. “And I would have. If I'd been with you, you'd never have left Charleston.”

  She couldn't repress a tiny smile: It was exactly what she'd been thinking on the way home. “There was a moment or two there when I wish you had been,” she said lightly.

  He didn't reply, and when she looked up, it was to find his face strangely rigid.

  “You shouldn't have worried,” she added, aware of a new tension between them. “You taught me to drive, remember?”

  “All I remembered was that you were in danger in the company of a fool, a boy who didn't know how to take care of you,” he said tightly. “If anything had happened to you, I'd have killed him.”

  He didn't raise his voice. But the words had as much impact as if he'd shouted them.

  “What a violent thing to say,” she laughed nervously.

  He didn't smile. His dark eyes narrowed, spearing her with an intensity that made flames kindle in her blood. “I've always been violent about you. Are you just now noticing it?”

  She gazed up at him quietly, stunned by the words, by the emotion in them, her lips slightly parted, her eyes curious and soft.

  Blake leaned one big hand on the back of the seat over her shoulder and his eyes dropped to her soft mouth. The action had brought him closer; so close that she could smell the clean, masculine fragrance of soap and cologne, feel the warmth of his big body.

  “Blake,” she whispered, yielding without words, without thought, longing for him.

  He bent his dark head and brushed his mouth against hers, a whisper of delicious sensation that quickened her pulse, her breathing. He drew back, and she lifted a finger to trace, tremulously, the hard, sensuous curve of his mouth. Emotion trembled between them in the silence, broken only by the whispering breeze, and the distant sound of a songbird.

  His lips moved, catching her exploring finger, and she felt the tip of his tongue moving softly against it. Her eyes looked straight into his, and she read the excitement in them.

  He searched her flushed young face quietly. “Stand up, Kathryn,” he said at last. “I want to feel you against me.”

  Like a sleepwalker, she obeyed him, letting him draw her so close that she could feel his powerful thighs pressing against hers, the muscles of his chest like a wall against her soft breasts.

  His thumb brushed against her mouth and he studied it as if he needed to memorize it. “Are you afraid?” he asked in a strange, husky voice.

  She shook her head, meeting his eyes with the hunger and need plain in her own. “Last time…”

  “It's not going to be like last time,” he breathed. “Kate…!” Her soft mouth parted eagerly as his lips met hers.

  Her slender arms reached up around his neck, holding him, and she kissed him back feverishly, trying to show that she could be anything he wanted her to be.

  His big hand tangled in the thick strands of hair at her nape, and his devouring mouth forced hers open even wider. He explored it with a deepening intimacy that made her tremble. With a sense of wonder she felt his hands at her back, sliding under the sweater and up to move caressingly against her silken skin.

  “No bra?” he murmured against her mouth, a
nd she could feel the amused smile that moved his lips.

  She flushed at the intimacy of the question, and suddenly reached around to catch his wrists and hold them as he started to slide his exploring hands around under her arms.

  “Blake…” she protested.

  He chuckled softly and drew his hands away, to replace them at her waist over the thick fabric. “You said you weren't afraid,” he reminded her.

  She lowered her eyes to his broad chest. “Must you make fun of me?” she asked miserably. “You know I'm not sophisticated.”

  “It's quite obvious,” he laughed softly. “If you were, you would know better than to plaster yourself against a man when he kisses you. Ten years ago, I'm not sure I'd have been able to draw back.”

  She looked up, startled. “But in the movies…”

  “Plastic people, contrived situations; this is real, Kathryn.” He took her hand and pressed it inside the opening of his shirt, against the hard, warm flesh and thick mat of hair. She felt the heavy rhythm of his heart. “Do you feel it?” he asked softly. “You make my blood run like a river in flood, Kate.”

  She was lost in his dark eyes, in the gentleness of his deep voice. Her fingers lingered inside his shirt, liking the feel of his muscular body, remembering suddenly and vividly the way he looked that night long ago with Jessica.

  He seemed to read the thoughts in her mind. Abruptly he caught her hands and slid them under the shirt to lie against the broad, hard chest. Her fingers trembled on the hair-rough skin.

  “I've never touched…anyone like this,” she whispered, awed by the new longings surging through her body, making her tremble in his big arms. “I never wanted to, until now.”

  His lips brushed against her forehead, his breath warm and a little unsteady, while her curious fingers explored the powerful muscles.

  She raised her eyes to Blake's. “I…Blake, I feel…”

  His fingers pressed gently against her lips. “Kiss me,” he whispered. “Don't think, don't talk. Just kiss me.” His lips teased hers delicately, softly, causing a surge of hunger that dragged a moan from her tight throat.

  She went on tiptoe to help him, to tempt him, her lips parting under the lazy pressure of his mouth as he began to deepen the kiss. She felt his hands caressing her back, moving surely around to her ribcage. But, this time, she didn't catch his wrists.