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parted and half-exposed where her skirt had ridden up. And yet she
shivered in its aftermath, and felt numb, as if she were encased in ice.
Please what? he inquired with savage menace.
All manner of responses sprang to mind. Please don t despise me! Please
don t leave me! Please love me, at least a little bit, just for tonight!
At nineteen, she might have uttered any one of them, then quietly bled as
he rejected them all. At thirty, praise heaven, she was much less inclined to
offer herself as a sacrifice on any man s altar. Drawing belated pride to her
rescue, she reached down and restored a modicum of decency to her
clothing. Please leave, she said, bathing her bruised heart in the doubtful
balm of this time being the one to evict him. And please don t invite
yourself back again.
Something was going to have to change. He d thought so last night when
he d reeled out of her room and collapsed against the wall outside her door
with his heart thudding like a thoroughbred s after a steeplechase. He d
reaffirmed the belief several times in the small hours between midnight and
dawn, when that sly abductor, sleep, had lurked, waiting to shanghai him
into some erotic dream-state over which she presided. And nothing about
the new day held hope of any improvement--a fact he recognized with
irritated resignation before he d had time to warm the seat of his chair at
the breakfast table.
Emily Jane, darling, surely that s not all you re taking? Beatrice
exclaimed, pausing in the act of filling his coffee-cup to cast a scandalized
glance at the slice of melon adorning Emily s plate. How do you expect to
get through the day if you don t properly stoke up your engine?
I never eat breakfast, Emily said, angling one shoulder just enough to
preclude having to acknowledge his presence, which was fine by him. He
wasn't particularly comfortable meeting her eye, either.
Shame on you! Beatrice scolded, clearly impervious to the tension
which, in his view, was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lucas, take a
look at the girl. She s skinny as a rail and needs a qualified man like
yourself to tell her so.
He shrugged and said, She s a woman, not a girl, Bea, and old enough to
decide for herself. If she s determined to go to hell in a hand cart, I doubt
anything you or I have to say will change her mind.
But you can try, his grandmother insisted. She might listen, what with
you being a doctor and all.
No, I won t, Emily said flatly, addressing the space behind his left ear.
Indeed not, her grandmother chipped in. Trust me, Beatrice Flynn,
there s nothing your grandson can offer my granddaughter that she d be
willing to accept.
She flushed then, a dusky rose that reminded him of sun-ripened peaches,
and her glance flicked to his face before fleeing again to the refuge of the
wall behind him.
Just briefly he was tempted to observe, I don t know about that. 'She
seemed more than willing to take anything she could get her hands on last
night, whether I offered it or not. Except that, for all his faults--and he d be
the first to admit he had plenty--he wasn t prepared to sink quite that far.
Especially since, damn it, his response to her hadn t been exactly
indifferent, as she d made a point of discovering for herself. So pretending
his sole expenditure of energy had been in fending her off would have been
a barefaced lie as well as boorish.
Amazingly, his grandmother still seemed unaware of the undercurrents.
Well, and why ever not, when the pair of them grew up like brother and
sister? The way you talk, Monique Lamartine, you d think our
grandchildren were sworn enemies, when it s plain to see there s never
been a cross word between them.
Things aren t always as they seem, old lady Lamartine replied snidely,
leaving Lucas to wonder just how much she knew of the true state of
affairs.
He fixed his gaze first on her and then on Emily. No, they re not, he said.
Isn t it nice that we finally agree on something, Mrs. Lamartine?"
Emily Jane came close to aspirating on her melon at that. Disappearing
behind her serviette, she choked quietly and, when she d recovered,
muttered, It s a lovely morning so, if you ll all excuse me, I ll take my
coffee out to the porch and enjoy the sun.
Old habits died hard. Wear a hat, he said automatically. The sun s a lot
stronger out here in the valley than what you ve become accustomed to in
Boston.
He should have kept his opinion to himself--and would have, if he d
known the reaction he d provoke. Mrs. Lamartine sniffed as though to
imply that she d be inclined to consult a gypsy fortune teller before she d
listen to his advice. Emily Jane flung him a glance that suggested he could
stuff his phoney concern precisely where the sun didn t shine. And
Beatrice, ever the optimist, beamed with delight. Once a doctor-- she
began.
He shoved back his chair. Don t start on that old theme again, Bea, he
snapped, venting his collective annoyance on her. Even someone with a
brain the size of a pea knows overexposure to sunlight is asking for
trouble.
That must explain why you re sporting such a spectacular tan, Emily
Jane remarked sweetly, just before she let the door swing closed behind
her.
He glowered into his coffee and wished he d chosen a monastery in a
remote corner of Tibet in which to seek out the peace and quiet his soul
craved, because it became more apparent with every passing hour that he
wasn t going to find them here.
Just to add insult to injury, Bruce Anderson showed up about half past
eleven that morning- to say hello and see how Emily and Madame
Lamartine are feeling , if he was to be believed, but the alacrity with which
he accepted Beatrice s invitation to join them for lunch on the patio left
Lucas with the feeling that the visit had been timed with the hope of just
such an offer being extended.
It wasn t that Lucas had anything against the guy--apart from his horse-
sized teeth and a great honking laugh that resembled the mating call of a
randy gander. In fact, under any other circumstances, he d have been
grateful to have another man around. Not only did it even the sides a little,
it also provided the ladies with another victim on whom to shower
attention--some thing they all seemed more than eager to do.
During the first course of the meal Lucas basked in the luxury of being
ignored, but, by the time hot chicken salad replaced the chilled watercress
soup, he showed the symptoms of the onset of serious neglect. And it
galled him more than he cared to admit that, with appearance of raspberries
in lavender cream, he felt about as imperative to the success of the party as
an outbreak of cholera.
Conversation swirled over and around him as if he were a chunk of rock
lodged in the middle of the river, a bit of an obstacle but not serious
enough to interrupt the flow of things. If he d keeled over face first into his
plate, it was doubtful anyone would have noticed, he thought sourly.
The final straw came when the first bottle of wine ran dry. Before Lucas
could open his mouth and offer to open another, good old Bruce the
Canada Goose was on his feet and flourishing the corkscrew. Allow me,
he insisted.
Emily Jane regarded him as if he d just come. up with a cure for cancer.
It s wonderful to be around a man who s not afraid to take charge, she
purred, batting eyelashes so absurdly long and thick that, if Lucas hadn t
known for a fact otherwise, he d have sworn they had to be artificial. '
She and Anderson traded smiles then. That was all. But to Lucas on the
sidelines, it was--absurdly, illogically--like finding himself cast in the role
of the husband whose wife was conducting an affair right under his nose.
He knew a savage desire to shove the Canadian s teeth down his throat,
smash his nose until it cracked, and then boot the man into the river.
It took more control than he d known he possessed to maintain a facade of
indifference. To nod his thanks when his glass was topped up. To keep his
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