by Anne Stuart
Placing my unwieldy burden under my arm, I started back up the stairs, just in time to see Adam Traywick climbing up our front porch. I didn’t stop to wonder what he was doing here at such an early hour. For obvious reasons I was reluctant to face him, so I ducked back in the shadow of the stairway, waiting until he’d knocked on the door before I felt I could continue up the hill with any degree of safety.
It was very heavy going, even on the worn path. There was six inches of new snow covering the packed-in trail, and my heavy clothing and the burden under my arm made me extremely uncomfortable in a short time. Finally I reached the pond. I shivered for a moment, involuntarily remembering my last visit here the night of the skating party, and the terror of my chase through the woods. And the pleasure I had felt when Adam had carried me to the sleigh. I shook off that thought immediately and concentrated on figuring out how to attach these monstrously awkward boards to my heavy leather boots.
The bindings were not dissimilar to the bindings on my ice skates. I had soon mastered the intricacies of tying them and was about to set off when a voice made me whirl around in shock. Actually, I tried to whirl around, but the skis prevented me, sending me into the thick white snow in an ungraceful position.
“Allow me to assist you, Miss Miranda.” Adam put his strong hand under my arm and hoisted me upright. “I wasn’t aware that you could ski. It’s a rare sport in this country.”
I brushed the snow from my clothes as best I could, glaring at him all the while. “I was about to try,” I said defiantly.
“Alone?” he raised one of his handsome eyebrows, mockingly, I thought.
“Alone, Mr. Traywick.” Although I tried to make my voice hostile, the fact of the matter was, I wanted him to stay and keep me company. I had missed him most of all—the longing to see him had at times amounted to a physical ache inside.
I needn’t have worried that he would desert me. “I don’t think I could let you do that, Miss Miranda. This is the first chance I’ve had to see you since the new year came upon us. I must say I missed you.”
“Did you?” I couldn’t keep myself from asking, melting a little inside.
He looked down at me with an amused tenderness. “Of course. So when I saw you sneaking up the hillside with those old skis I decided I couldn’t miss a chance of seeing you alone. Besides, I felt it was solemn duty to come after you and protect you. There have been too many strange things happening around here.”
“I know that very well. And I was not sneaking! I don’t necessarily think I’ll be any safer with you than I would have been with John Wilkes Booth, but that’s neither here nor there. I suppose you’re bound and determined to accompany me?”
“Bound and determined,” he agreed, smiling at me with a brilliance that seemed more blinding than the bright mid-winter sun rising behind his back. “And some instruction is necessary before you go tearing down hillsides on these things, you know. You’re more likely to go tearing down hillsides on your posterior.”
I ignored his totally outrageous reference to that part of my anatomy. “I suppose some instruction might be useful,” I admitted. “How do you know about skiing? And where did you get those skis?”
“I got the skis the same place you did. I stole them from your Cousin Karlew. And I learned how to ski when I was fifteen and my parents took me to Austria to visit my uncle.”
“Your uncle?” I queried.
“He was the United States ambassador at that time,” he said smoothly, and I couldn’t doubt that he was telling me the truth. I looked at him with covert wonder. There was so much I didn’t know about him.
“First of all, this is the way to stand.” He demonstrated, and I copied him as best I could.
The hours went very fast. Before I knew it I was chasing his lithe form across the snowy hills, dipping through the snow-covered glades with the icy wind stinging my cheeks and eyes and even my fingers through the two layers of mittens. I loved it and kept on till I was so exhausted I could barely move, so cold I could barely speak. At last I slid on my skis over to the side of Barrett’s Hill’s southern exposure and sank ungracefully into the snow.
“Are you tired?” he inquired solicitously, swooping down on me with his incredible grace. The skis seemed like part of his body as he moved through the snow. He sank down beside me, panting slightly.
“You seem a bit winded yourself,” I told him while trying to catch my breath. “I’m not used to this much exercise. I live a respectable lady’s life with my Cousin Karlew.”
“More’s the pity. Anyone less like a respectable lady I have yet to see.”
“I beg your pardon!” I tried to sound insulted, though secretly I felt almost flattered. I had nothing but contempt for the general run of pampered, mindless “ladies” I knew.
“And going to a New Year’s Eve party in your nightgown is not exactly ladylike,” he continued, heedless of my protest.
“I suppose not,” I admitted ruefully. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“On the contrary, you should do things like that more often,” he said solemnly.
“And then no one would ever marry me,” I said playfully. “I’m disgraced enough as it is already.”
“I thought I was going to marry you for your money?” he said, looking at me quizzically. I concentrated fiercely on the snow. He continued in a matter of fact voice, “By the way, you don’t happen to have any food with you, do you? I’m starving.”
“Why, actually, I do,” I admitted, pulling up my voluminous skirts. I reached around in the pocket of my middle petticoat—one of Maxine’s, an enchanting chartreuse creation—and drew out my slightly crumpled handkerchief. He was watching me with interest.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Don’t you know it’s a trifle unusual for a girl to be pulling up her skirts in front of a man? Surely your mother taught you that much?”
“Oh, bother,” I said rudely. “I have about seventeen layers of clothing on today, and I certainly don’t expect you to fight your way through all of them in this cold weather.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed. “I would wait till you are less encumbered—what the hell is that?” he interrupted himself.
“That” was a mass of large crumbs which had once been two muffins. “They must have gotten squashed when I fell on them,” I said cheerfully, popping a large piece into my mouth. “They’re still good.”
He took one and agreed. We sat in silence for a while, munching on the crumbs and feeling the cold quiet around us. I thought uneasily that I ought to get back to the house before Karlew missed me. I couldn’t bring myself to break the peace of these few minutes. But the sun was rising higher and higher in the sky.
“Why have you come back?” My voice sounded harsh to my ears in the snowy silence. “After all these years why did you come back and upset everything?” He said nothing for a few moments, weighing his words. I didn’t dare speak again for fear he might just get up and leave me without answering. He sat there, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. We had been so comfortable for a while.
Finally he spoke. “You aren’t really asking me why I came back. You’re asking me why I waited so long.”
“I guess so,” I agreed.
He took a deep breath, and his profile looked curiously vulnerable in the early morning sun. “Actually, I came back because of you.”
“Me?” I squeaked, and choked on a piece of muffin.
“You know I was a good friend of your father? Well, naturally I knew your mother, too.”
“Naturally,” I echoed, feeling a little sick. “You’re not—you’re not the man who ran off with her, are you?” I had to ask, dread filling me.
He looked down at me and smiled. “No. But when I was young, and I was much younger than she was, almost ten years, I had my first crush on her. S
he was very patient and, I think, flattered by my attentions. Even then she was already making plans to run off with her actor. But she had time to spare for a lovesick boy.”
I’ll bet she did, I thought to myself. For once I had the tact not to say something so crudely nasty out loud. I remained silent.
“She left your father a few months after Carly was murdered. Which totally destroyed my faith in womanhood . . . she’d told me she was devoted to your father. I thought she had incredibly bad taste, but I had believed her. So I gave up looking for Carly’s murderer and headed out West to try to forget all about both Carly and your mother. Which I succeeded in doing.”
“But why come back now? Why do you care who killed Carly? It all happened so long ago, why is it your personal duty to bring her killer to justice?” I argued.
“I’m not concerned with bringing him to justice—that hadn’t entered my plans. And I care because Carly was a helpless little waif, not too bright and not too careful, who was slaughtered like a sheep by some maniac. The same maniac who tried to rape your mother one night on Barrett’s Hill. The same maniac who chased you through the woods last November.”
“But—but—” All these questions began crowding in on me. “I hadn’t heard anything about my mother. And why now?” I persisted. “The murderer hasn’t done anything for years. Why not leave well enough alone?”
“Because your mother wrote me five years ago, just before she was killed in that train wreck, and told me about her experience—that it had happened just before she went away and none of us had known about it. So I came back here to see Karlew and Fathimore; I also went to Cambridge to see your father and to find out if he knew anything about it. And all of them knew of it—all but me! They blocked me at every step I made, and I finally gave up. I still had business to attend to out west, so I headed back to Wyoming. Where I stayed until I heard that Karlew had been given custody of you.”
“But why did that matter?” I was totally bewildered.
“Your mother and Carly looked very much alike. They were the only two who had been attacked by the murderer. You look like them both; I saw your picture that time when I went back to see your father, and I knew there might be trouble. So I came back. In memory of your mother, in a sense.”
“How sweet,” I said icily. “I want no favors meant for my mother.”
“Now, now, Miranda. You mustn’t be jealous of a dead woman. Especially when it’s your own mother.” He was laughing at me.
“Jealous?” I sputtered, furious. “I wouldn’t be jealous of you if you and Fathimore were the only men on earth! Your conceit is really amazing.”
“Of course,” he said soothingly. “You hate me, don’t you?”
He knew perfectly well that I didn’t. “I don’t have any special opinion of you at all, Mr. Traywick,” I lied. “I just wish you would go away. I don’t need your protection.”
“Don’t you now? I would have surely thought so, when your Cousin Karlew is attempting to trade you off with your nice little fortune, simply for his own protection. It takes a lot for a man like Karlew to give up control of all that nice money. I think you’ll need my help very much unless it’s your goal in life to be married to Fathimore Wilby.”
“Better Fathimore than you,” I said recklessly, rising on unsteady legs. The skis were once again an awkward encumbrance; my short-lived grace was gone. “And now I think I’ve had enough for one day. Thank you for accompanying me.”
He stood up and bowed politely. “Thank you, madame. The pleasure was all mine.” He grabbed my unwilling hand and kissed it through the thick woolen mittens. I snatched it away angrily and started off down the slope.
His voice called after me: “I hope Karlew doesn’t catch you running about like this.”
I ignored him as I made my way carefully down the hillside. But the upsetting nature of my conversation with Adam had taken its toll on my limited athletic ability, and in a moment I was sliding through the snow on my back. One ski twisted and came off, the other got caught in my skirts. I slid against the fallen limb of a tree and screamed as something ripped at my face. I finally ended in a huddle by the tree trunk, shivering.
“You little fool!” Adam’s angry, frightened voice was beside me. “What an idiotic thing to do—to go off when you’re angry like that. You could have killed yourself.” He brushed the snow away from my face and stared into my tear-blurred eyes. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, and kissed me.
Oh, my God! I lost all sense of time and consciousness then, lost in the feel of his mouth on mine. I could feel his body warm against me in the snow, feel his lips as they moved from my mouth to my cheek, my eyes, my neck, and then back to my mouth again. I was shaking all over, now from a very different emotion than fear, when he pulled away. He looked down at me with an expression of wonder. He gently brushed the hair out of my eyes, and I winced as his fingers touched my forehead.
“You’re bleeding,” he said unexpectedly, his voice husky. For a moment I thought he meant my lips. They felt bruised and afire from his kisses, but I realized it was my face he meant as he pressed his handkerchief against it tenderly.
“You don’t understand, do you, my love?” he murmured, and I wondered if I had misunderstood what he had called me. “And I can’t explain any better right now. You’ll have to trust me.”
I stared at him mutely, unable to say anything in answer to this. But he expected no answer. Silently he helped me to my feet, and we made our way back to the house.
Chapter 13
SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH I got away with that little escapade. I left Adam without a word and went upstairs by way of the kitchen, leaving him to cope with the problem of replacing the skis. Nanny and Cook were off someplace, and the hallways were deserted, so I arrived safely back in the confines of my room. The scratch on my face could be covered by my unruly hair, but the wound to my emotions wouldn’t stand up to Karlew’s scrutiny. I was glad to be in disgrace.
I was so subdued that—sooner than I cared for—Karlew relented and told me I might rejoin the family. I regretted the end of my enforced solitude. There had been no chance of running into Adam, an event I was more than ready to postpone. I had accepted what I felt for Adam as an intolerable weakness on my part, one that it was hopeless to try to control. I still didn’t feel equal to meeting him with that knowledge fresh in my mind.
So it was with a great deal of trepidation that I faced the people assembled in the drawing room that evening. Cousin Elinor inclined her head graciously as I greeted her, obviously determined to forgive and forget. Maxine still sulked. Fathimore, resplendent in an olive green mail-order suit with a peach-colored tie, merely looked curious. And Karlew had his benevolent, fatherly expression attached firmly to his ruddy face. And then there was Adam.
With admirable politeness, everyone began talking with each other after the initial shock of my reentry into society had been accomplished. I wandered over to the deserted corner by the door and sank into the uncomfortable leather chair. I stared out the multipaned window, trying to pretend I didn’t see Adam making his way over to my side.
“You’re looking none the worse for your recent exile,” he greeted me, his words denying our recent meeting.
It took a great deal of effort to look up at his lean form towering, above me. I met his green eyes calmly. “I’m quite well, thank you. I trust you haven’t been too desolated by my absence?” I kept my tone light.
“As a matter of fact, I was quite bored with this whole village for a few days.”
“And something happened to revive your interest?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Oh, yes. We have a lovely visitor in town by the name of Roxie Shenille. She’s been effectively helping me through the long hours waiting for your reprieve.”
“I’m so glad,” I said sweetly. “Why wasn’t she invited
tonight so that we all could meet her?”
“She’s been here quite a few times already. Your cousin’s assistant is mad about her.” He smiled wickedly. “I’m afraid you’re about to lose your most devoted admirer to that lady.”
“And who is my most devoted admirer, you or Fathimore?”
“Fathimore, certainly. I could never pretend to his devotion. He’s willing to go to such lengths, you know. But then, I . . . I shall stay faithful to you unto death.” There was an odd note beneath his bantering.
“And this is an old friend of yours, this Roxie?” I asked after a moment.
“What makes you think that?” He looked into my eyes and lied. “I never met her before last week.”
“Then why were you writing her a letter last month?” I inquired coldly. “You needn’t tell me; I really don’t care.”
Fortunately at that moment Maxine came to claim him, and I got through the evening without having betrayed myself. One thing had been made clear to me this night. If Adam suspected that I had any kind of—I hated to use the word. If he suspected I loved him he could and probably would destroy me. Or at least hurt me badly enough that I’d never live any semblance of a normal life. I probably wouldn’t anyway, I thought morosely.
As soon as dinner was finished I excused myself and retired to my too familiar bedroom, where I finished out the evening brooding hopelessly.
It was sometime in the middle of the night when I awoke with a start. There was a great bustling and shouting coming from outside in the direction of the village. I rushed into the hallway, almost colliding with Maxine.