Secret Courtship

“You don’t have one?” Sally’s tone was surprised.

As casually as she could, Laura sipped from her glass before laying it down on the table. “My swimsuit wore out, and I’ve just never got around to replacing it.”

“Well, do get yourself a bikini next time you’re shopping, then we can cool off together!”

Laura cast around for the right words to extricate herself from the situation. She never wore a swimsuit now—and never would. Though the ugly scars on her back were no longer raw, they were still there ... and would be forever. She controlled a faint shudder as she pictured them.

“Thanks, Sally, but ... I’m not a swimmer—I’ve... er ... never really been a water person.” In her distress, she snatched at the lie, hoping it would put an end to the conversation.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Sally said. “But if you change your mind—”

“Hi, there.”

Laura felt her body become rigid as Nick’s lazy drawl sounded from right behind her. She hadn’t heard his car arrive; hadn’t heard him open the screen door and come out of the house. Bracing herself, she half turned to face him.

“Nick,” Sally said, “you’re back early!”

“The meeting had to be canceled at the last minute.” He had crossed to stand beside Sally, but as he responded to her comment his gaze was fixed on Laura.

“Too bad you had to go all that way downtown on such a hot afternoon.” Sally turned in her chair and gestured toward Laura. “You two have met, of course...”

“Yes.” Nick’s gray eyes held Laura’s steadily. “We’ve met.”

No man had any right to be so attractive. With the collar of his crisp white shirt open and the knot of his tie tugged loose, with his board-flat stomach accentuated by an expensive-looking leather belt and his long, powerful legs outlined by narrow-fitting trousers, he was so magnificently male that Laura felt her blood hum wildly in response. She gripped her glass and fought an almost overpowering impulse to press its cold surface to her heated cheeks.

What was he thinking as he stared at her so unblinkingly? How dull, bland and unattractive? How mousy, pale and boring? She had no way of knowing; his eyes were shuttered, his thoughts concealed as if behind a cold gray wall. She saw him place his fingertips lightly on Sally’s shoulders.

“Honey,” he said, “I heard the boys moving around.”

“Oh, they’re awake. Thanks, Nick.” She reached up a hand and he helped her to her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, straightening, “once I get Matt and Mike into their swimsuits—they’ll want to go in the pool. It’s such a pity,” she called back over her shoulder as she crossed the patio to the house, “that Laura’s afraid of the water. We could have had an impromptu pool party!”

The moment Sally had closed the screen door behind her Laura felt panic tense her nerves even further. Why didn’t the man move? Why didn’t he either sit down, or go away? She couldn’t bear it when he stood like that, towering over her, like some hostile, threatening giantcouldn’ t bear the silence stretching between them...

“So—” Nick’s voice was neutral “—you’re Charity Brown’s great-niece.” He remained where he was, standing over her, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets as he spoke.

“That’s right.” Forcing herself to appear calm, Laura sipped from her glass, and relished the cooling feel of the lemonade in her throat. “She was my father’s aunt.”

He moved his hands slightly, and she heard the jingle of keys. “You came here as a child, I gather.”

“You gather?” Laura raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “Let me put that another way. I know you came here as a child. Charity Brown told me you stayed with her for one whole summer.”

“Yes,” she said, “I did. When I was ten.”

“And you didn’t keep in touch with her afterward?”

Laura heard a warning bell go off in her mind. Had there been a trace of disapproval, even criticism in his tone? “I wasn’t allowed to keep in touch,” she said coolly. “When my father came to pick me up at the end of August, he and his aunt quarreled. Harsh things were said—on both sides. My father was an unforgiving man. From that time on he sent back his aunt’s letters unopened, and I was forbidden to write to her.”

“He was a drummer, I believe, with a popular band?”

How much had Charity Brown told this man? Laura felt a twinge of annoyance and resentment that he knew what he did about her. “A very popular band,” she said in cool tones. “He traveled all over North America... And after my mother died, when I was six, he took me with him.”

“Not very good for your schooling, I imagine, being on the road constantly.”

There it was again, that undertone of criticism...only this time it was more pronounced. “My father was a very clever man—” she put her glass down “—and he taught me himself, with the help of correspondence courses.”

“So you’re an educated woman, Miss Grant—” his voice was silky “—and one well able to make her own decisions. So tell me, as a matter of interest, are you still so much under your father’s influence that you continue to obey him without question?”

“My father died when I was eighteen,” Laura said, looking up at him angrily. “Just what are you getting at?”

His eyes glittered down at her. “And how old are you now?”

“I’m twenty-three, but—”

“What I’m getting at, Miss Grant, is this. I can understand a child, even a teenager, obeying her father’s orders unquestioningly. But did you develop no mind of your own during those growing years? I’m curious to know why you never tried to make contact with Miss Brown once you became an adult. She led me to believe that the relationship forged between the two of you that summer was a strong and emotional one... and one that meant a great deal to her.”

“It meant a great deal to me too.” Laura spoke defiantly, yet her voice shook. “But that’s none of your—”

“It meant so much that you couldn’t find time to come and visit her? You never wrote, you never phoned, you never came to see her. Not even when she was in hospital dying. Yet, when she passes away and leaves you her home, you manage to leave your busy little life and come flying out here... when it’s too late?” His last words came out in a hard voice, and with added emphasis on each word.

Laura felt her throat muscles tighten, and she started to push herself up from her seat. She didn’t have to sit here, subject herself to this inquisition. But as she straightened his hand came flying out toward her, and with a strangled “No!” she fell back into her seat, cowering against the cushions, her heart thumping against her ribs.

But even as she huddled there, her body trembling, she heard an exclamation hiss from him, and as she flicked an apprehensive glance through her lashes, she saw a look of astonishment on his face.

“It was just a bug!” he exclaimed, his tone bewildered. “It was making for your eyes—didn’t you see it? You didn’t think—?”

Oh, God, she thought despairingly. What a fool she must seem ...

“Surely you didn’t think I was going to hit you?”

She tried to still the trembling in her body, but without success. During her marriage, after Jason had shouted at her during one of his jealous rages, she had trembled for hours, uncontrollably. Now she clenched her fists till she felt her nails cut deeply into her palms.

“Of course not.” The words, by some miracle, came out convincingly as she forced herself to meet his gaze, and from somewhere deep inside her she gathered enough strength to unflex her fists and grip the arms of the chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—” she pushed herself to her feet again “—I have to go. I just dropped by with a video movie for Sally-please thank her for me, for the lemonade.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away from him, toward the side gate. Her knees threatened to buckle under her, but with every ounce of determination she possessed she willed them to hold up, and they did.

As she pulled open the gate she thought he said something, but she let the gate swing shut behind her and it clicked loudly, drowning out any words that followed her.

By the time she reached her own front door she could feel the pricking of tears, and fiercely she blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give in to the horrid memories tearing at her.

She drew in a ragged breath as she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. That poor man—her lips twisted in a bleak smile-how astonished he had looked when she’d flinched away from his upraised hand. Was he still wondering why she’d reacted that way, or would he have already forgotten about it—forgotten about her?

She pushed herself from the door and made her way to the living-room, where the afternoon sun beamed in on the faded old chintzes and mellowed woods. Wearily she stood at the patio doors, staring out through a haze of tears. How she longed to go out and wander round the garden, to draw strength from its quiet beauty. But she couldn’t.

Nick Diamond might go upstairs, might look down from one of his windows and see her. She had decided earlier that she would ignore him; now she knew such a thing was impossible.

CHAPTER FOUR