She broke up; she couldn’t help it. Shaking with laughter, she fell into his arms and pressed her forehead against his sun-warmed chest. “Oh, Alec,” she cried, “did you see her face?”
Alec had indeed, and he didn’t like it one damned bit. Gazing at nothing over Laurel’s head, he felt his amusement fade, to be replaced by fierce protectiveness. God, what was going on? He couldn’t believe the things that woman had unloaded on Laurel. If half of them were true, he and Laurel had big trouble.
They had also been spied on, or so it sounded to him. Somebody had seen the two of them in the Italian garden. It was the only way the rumors of an orgy could have originated.
The very idea made him want to strangle someone with his bare hands. He hoped to heaven Laurel hadn’t made the connection, but knew it was too much to ask. She was too smart to let anything like that slip past her. Which didn’t mean that she would say anything about it, of course. She wasn’t the kind of woman to let every thought that passed through her head come out her mouth. Sometimes he wished she would. He would feel better if he knew for sure what was on her mind.
As if tuning in to his mood, Laurel grew quiet in his arms. She stirred, then drew back, bracing against his hold. Her face stark, she said, “There was somebody outside here the night before last when we—when you slept on the porch. I heard something behind me. That’s why I was running when I nearly knocked you down. I thought then it was you I had heard, only you had turned and come back around the other way to meet me.”
“No,” he replied in grim denial. “I circled to the back after checking the front door. You came from behind me, and I turned around to catch you.”
She nodded unhappily. “Whoever was out there saw us.”
It didn’t help Alec’s feelings to know he had been right. He drew a shallow breath and let it out. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? It isn’t your fault there’s a Peeping Tom sneaking around.”
“It was my fault we weren’t tucked up in bed like nice normal people. It was just that…you were so unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight and I wanted you, wanted to see the moon in your eyes when I made love to you. And I wanted no reminders, no comparisons with whatever you had with your husband.”
“I know,” she said, her gaze open and steady on his. “It was perfect. That’s why it’s so terrible that somebody is trying to turn it into something ugly.”
“They can’t do that unless we let them. We’re the only ones who control how we think about it.”
“Yes,” she agreed, but the word was hardly more than a whisper.
“Anyway,” he went on, “you were on private property, minding your own business. Whoever was out there is the one who should be feeling ashamed.”
She gave him a small smile for his effort, although she didn’t look convinced. After a moment, she said, almost to herself, “Why? Why would anyone try? I haven’t done anything to them.”
His grasp tightened. “Weirdos don’t need a reason. Besides, it doesn’t have to be you they’re after.”
“Meaning?”
“You were fine until I came along, now weren’t you?” The words were tight.
She hesitated only a moment before she answered, “No. No, I wasn’t.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said unsteadily. “And don’t look at me like that unless you want to add to the gossip.”
She gave him a small, tempted smile that immediately dimmed again. “I hate to think of Marcia and Evan hearing what’s being said.”
“If they’ve got any sense, much less loyalty to their mother, they won’t believe a word of it.”
“Even the part that’s true?” Her gaze slid away.
He felt tightness gather around his chest. “That’s the part that gets to you, isn’t it? What those two will think.”
“I’m their mother.”
She looked embarrassed and unhappy, and it was his doing. Aching inside, yet stubborn, he said, “You’re human.”
“I should have had more—”
“What?” he interrupted. “Dignity? Self-respect? Or only more common sense than to get involved with me?”
“Oh, Alec,” she said in soft rebuke.
He knew he should shut up, let it go, but he couldn’t. “You wish you had, don’t you? You wish I’d never come along, or that I’d go away so you could fall back into your safe rut.”
“I don’t think any of those things, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good idea to be a little more discreet, at least until the talk dies down.”
“Discreet,” he repeated. “As in leave you alone.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Only because you can’t bring yourself to use the words. You’re too much of a lady to hurt my feelings with a direct order to get out of your bed, so you’re looking for a way to make me do it myself.” He was saying too much, driven to it by watching everything he had gained go down the tubes. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes he got these self-destructive urges and nothing less than a total flameout would do.
She was pale and there were tears rising to rim her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well, you’re damned well doing it.”
“But since you brought it up,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “then you might sleep somewhere else.”
“Fine.”
“By that, I don’t mean…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get in a lather and go off somewhere to sulk. I may lay low for a day or two because you ask it, but you’ll never be rid of me permanently. I don’t care if the whole world watches over our shoulders and jabbers itself hoarse. I don’t even care if your kids stand around bug-eyed with shock. You’ve got me, lady. Whether you want me or not, I’m yours.”
There was something else she didn’t understand, though she would, eventually. The fact was, he had her, too. She was his, and he wasn’t going to let her go.
13
Laurel worked late in the pottery shed. Maisie came to tell her she was leaving for the day and to ask about an errand she was supposed to run in town before she came to work in the morning. Not long after she left, Laurel heard Alec’s bike as it roared off. She sat listening to the echoes for long moments, staring at nothing. When the sound died away at last, she closed her eyes tight in sudden desolation and clenched her hand around her carving tool. Then she took a deep, sharp breath, opened her eyes, and began once more to carve the clay in front of her.
The plaque she was working on was different from the others. For one thing, it was female. For another, the swirling design around the face was a floral motif instead of one using vines and foliage. The biggest change, however, was that the expression was not tranquil.
The woman in the clay was trying to get out. Her eyes were desperate, as if she were smothering. With her mouth open in a scream, she was fighting her entrapment. She was fighting, but she was losing.
There had been a certain technical facility about the first plaques, but this one came much closer to the kind of emotional expression Laurel had wanted to explore. It was also disturbing. She knew why, since she had the detachment to recognize her own features in the trapped woman. Still, she had not consciously chosen to use herself as a model, had not meant the figure to portray anything personal. It had come, she thought, from the turmoil inside her.
At the same time, however, there was a soft vulnerability to the face of the woman. Laurel wasn’t sure what had brought that about, couldn’t associate it with herself. Regardless, that softness somehow made the imprisonment harder to bear. It also made the figure more upsetting.
She lost track of time. Feeling neither hunger nor fatigue, she worked on, cutting fear and love into the clay face, buffing away the raw edges to make the image come alive. The light grew dim, and she turned on the big overhead fluorescent lights. The night deepened, growing cooler, and a breeze through the open door carried the scent of honeysuckle and roses. Still, she didn’t look up—not un
til she heard the roar of the Harley again.
Alec had come back. She hadn’t thought he would.
Anger that he had ignored her request rose inside her, but behind it, almost washing it away, was a sweet surge of anticipation. She wasn’t going to run out to meet him, however, or change her schedule to suit his pleasure.
She bent over her work again, but her concentration was gone. She kept listening for his step, waiting for him to come to her. She couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t; he almost always did. Yet what was taking him so long?
She heard the scuff of his approach. His shadow, cast by moonlight, fell across the doorway.
It wasn’t Alec. The knowledge rang in her mind the instant she realized he would never make that kind of scuffling entrance. Her heart jumped against the wall of her chest. She came off her stool in a fluid slide. Eyes wide, she faced the door with her carving tool held like a weapon in her hand.
The man slouched into the blue-white glare of the fluorescent lights. A crooked smile crossed his face and he ducked his head in greeting. “Evening.”
“Gregory.” She closed her eyes and eased back onto her stool as the strength left her legs.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no, it’s all right.” She managed a wan smile. “How are you doing?”
He grimaced. “I’m still here, which is something, I guess. But you were probably expecting Alec.”
“Not exactly, except I thought I heard him ride up.”
“The bike, yeah. I sort of borrowed it. Alec went to bed early, guess he was beat. Anyway, it didn’t look like he’d be having a use for it, so…”
She didn’t know quite what to say to Alec’s brother. She barely knew him, and the extreme nature of his illness hung about him like a pall. Conversation with him was a little like crossing a minefield where any careless word could cause unexpected reactions. More than that, he seemed to be one of those people who had no idea how to go about polite give-and-take. Asking after people seemed like the safest bet until she could figure out what he wanted.
“So how is Miss Callie?”
“All right, I suppose. Works too hard, but seems to like it.”
She suspected that most people worked too hard in Gregory’s opinion. “Could I get you something to drink? Coffee and maybe some of the pound cake Maisie made today?”
Interest brightened his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve got Scotch and soda?”
“Bourbon and water,” she offered, even as she wondered if she should. It was unlikely that he needed to mix alcohol with whatever he was taking for pain.
“That’ll work,” he said.
She studied him a moment, but decided he must surely know what he wanted and needed. Turning off the lights in the shed and closing the door, she walked with him toward the porch steps. She was glad of the company, really. The house loomed so dark and still it seemed that anything or anyone could be inside, especially since she had left the back door unlocked.
Gregory was as nervous as she was, or so it appeared. Glancing around, he said, “It’s sure spooky out here. I don’t know how you stand it. You couldn’t pay me enough to stay in this old house alone.”
“You get used to anything,” she replied easily, leading the way into the screened porch and across it to the French doors that gave onto the hall, turning on lights as she went.
“Don’t you ever think about getting away, living somewhere else?”
“Like where?” In the kitchen, she took down a glass and filled it with ice from the side-by-side refrigerator. Rooting in the cabinets, she brought out the bottle of bourbon. It had been twelve years old when it was bought, and had been around long enough to celebrate its eighteenth birthday.
“Anywhere,” he answered. “Florida? California? Arizona? Sell this old pile and take off. There’s nothing to keep you here.”
“Except my children.”
“They’re grown, aren’t they? On their own?” he returned as he took the drink she offered.
“I suppose. But then, what would I do in Florida or California?”
“The same thing you’re doing here.”
She smiled as she poured a glass of water for herself and sat down across from him at the table. “Then why bother?”
He had the grace to laugh. A silence fell as he drank deep, then sighed and set the glass back on the table. Staring at it, he seemed to visibly relax. After a moment, he said, “I’m worried about old Alec.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah.” He shot her a look from under his brows. “You.”
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her waist. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He shrugged a bony shoulder. “Well, it’s like this. My brother’s a nice guy, but he gets strange sometimes, goes all noble like some kind of superhero, thinks he has to take care of the world.”
“I wouldn’t call that strange.”
“Even when what he’s doing is bad for him?”
“Against his best interests, you mean,” she said evenly. “Such as getting involved with a woman several years older?”
His smile was thin. “I knew you’d get it without a lot of fancy talk.”
“Yes, but I don’t know why you think it’s so bad for him.” She tightened her clasp around her ribs, not quite looking at the man across the table.
“Because he’s been there already, and it turned out bad. I tried to give you a warning earlier, but I guess it didn’t stick. He just doesn’t need another woman falling for him, then offing herself when the going gets rough. It would send him over the edge this time. I know it would.”
“Offing? Are you trying to say his wife killed herself?”
He snorted. “That’s the general idea.”
“But someone said he was arrested for murder.”
“Oh, did they? Shows how much they know. Actually, the cops had some idea Alec might have given her a hand, so to speak, but the D.A.’s office couldn’t make a case. They’d never have gone to trial if her grown kids hadn’t pushed it.”
“I see. Inconsiderate of them.” She closed her lips firmly over the words.
“Certainly was, when Alec had been taking care of the old lady day and night for months.”
The old lady.
Was that how Gregory saw her? Laurel wondered. As another old lady Alec had been taking care of day and night?
Gregory was still talking. “I just don’t want to see him go through something like that again. I’m not sure he can take it, wondering what he did wrong, tearing himself apart over what he could have done to stop it. He looks tough, and I guess he is as long as you’re talking physical stuff, but he takes things to heart. If anything happened to you, I think he’d go off the deep end. Way off.”
Was Gregory right? She wished she knew. “That may be,” she said carefully, “but I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”
“Cut him free. Do it now, while you can. Send Alec away for his own good. It’s the only way he can ever get himself untangled, because he feels responsible for you now, and he’ll never turn his back on what he considers his responsibilities.”
Out of her pain, she said suggestively, “Unlike some people?”
“You got it.” Gregory’s laugh was short. “I know he’s worth three of me, always has been. I also know it’s time he quit trying to rescue everybody else and thought about himself.”
“Are you quite sure,” she asked softly, “that it’s him you’re worried about? Are you sure you aren’t afraid that he’ll use his time taking care of other people instead of being there for you?”
He sat back, letting his hands flop into his lap. His gaze wide on her face, he said, “You look soft, but you know how to fight dirty.”
“Only in retaliation,” she said grimly.
“Yeah, well, me, too. Think what you like, I don’t give a damn. Alec is my brother, and I’m looking after him this time. He’s never had a fair shake, you kn
ow? So he’s got to the point he doesn’t expect one anymore, just takes what he can get. But he deserves better. I don’t want him getting in too deep with you—not if he’s going to lose in the end.”
She watched him for a long moment after he stopped speaking. Then she sighed. “All right, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re concerned, but then so am I. The last thing I want to do is hurt Alec in any way. The two of us discussed this situation and agreed that it would be best if we didn’t…that is, if we remain on a businesslike, employer-employee basis for the time being. Short of firing him—which won’t work because I’ve already tried it—I don’t know what else to do.”
“You fired him?”
She gave a short nod. “He kept coming back, anyway.”
“And you think he’s going to stay away now on your say-so?” Gregory asked with a laugh.
“He isn’t here now,” she pointed out with some emphasis.
“He was tired, and no wonder. Besides, he’s not stupid. He’ll give you time to cool off, time to miss him.”
Was Alec that calculating? She didn’t like to think so, yet how could she say? For all the hours they had spent together, she knew little more about him than she did Gregory.
“Then I don’t know what you expect me to do,” she said.
“Don’t give him hope you don’t mean to deliver on, because it will kill him when you take it away. Protect him from himself. Get rid of him.”
“And if he won’t go?”
“You’re a smart woman, you can find a way.”
She might, but did she want to? That was the question.
At least it was one she didn’t need to find an answer to just now. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough.”
Gregory downed the rest of his bourbon and water, then got to his feet. She made no effort to detain him, but saw him to the front door. On the veranda steps, he paused and turned back.
“You won’t tell Alec I came by, will you?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” she asked, though more to put him on the spot than because she intended to entertain Alec with the news.
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