by Diana Palmer
He caught the hand in his free one, and she felt the pressure through every cell in her body. Holding hands with Andrew in the carriage had been nothing like this. She was drowning in sensations she had never experienced.
Older than she, he understood her feelings as she obviously didn’t. He smiled and let go of her hand. “The suit is becoming,” he said then, turning away. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it would be out of fashion by the next winter season. Let her enjoy it if it pleased her. “Andrew will find you devastating.” He paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Have a care, though. Andrew isn’t a marrying man.”
“Sir!”
“I said that I would be honest with you, Noelle,” he reminded her. He stopped in the doorway to the hall. “I’ve ordered a Gramophone, by the way,” he said to surprise her. “When it arrives, I’m going to teach you to dance.”
Her heart lifted. “You? But…” Her eyes went silently to his leg.
He laughed. “I see. How, you wonder, is an old, crippled city lawyer going to teach you to dance?”
It was so close to her thoughts that she flushed, giving him the answer he already knew.
He only nodded. “It’s just as well that you know so little about me,” he said absently, studying her. “I have enough regrets, without adding you to them.”
With that puzzling rejoiner, he left her alone in her finery.
* * *
IN THE THREE weeks that followed, Jared decided on a vacant office downtown and rented it for his practice. He hired carpenters and had it renovated in a style that suited him. He had carpets and curtains and furniture installed, along with the latest office equipment. Then he employed a male secretary to run the office for him when he had to be away. That last act bothered Noelle, who was harboring secret hopes that he might ask her to come to work for him. But he didn’t. In fact, he never mentioned the possibility, despite the fact that she still spent two out of every four nights hard at work in the study, typing up letters and doing paperwork for Andrew.
Last of all, Jared had his shingle suspended on a post at the door: JARED DUNN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
Noelle mustered all her nerve to ask Jared about the male secretary as he was leaving the house to go to the office one morning.
“Why did you hire a man for your secretary? Don’t you trust women employees?” she asked.
He hesitated at the door, hat in hand, and smiled at her without warmth. “No.”
He put on his hat and left.
Noelle commented about it to Mrs. Dunn later, only to find that the older woman understood completely.
“Jared doesn’t trust women, not at all,” she told Noelle.
“There must be a reason.”
She nodded. “An unscrupulous woman was responsible for involving him in a…violent and tragic situation when he was a young man, before he went North to study law. She stole some money and lied about it, and accused a young cowboy of beating her and forcing her to help him steal the money. Because of her, an innocent man died.”
She didn’t add that Jared had killed the man in question in a gunfight, or that the woman had later confessed that the cowboy wasn’t responsible at all for her bruises. She was arrested for her crime. But although the cowboy had been armed and it was a fair fight, Jared blamed himself.
He’d taken to strong drink when he’d learned the truth, and for a few violent months, he’d been a gunman in Kansas. He’d soon left there for an even wilder life on the border, and a twist of fate had sent him to work on the right side of the law. But his mother’s sudden illness had called him to Fort Worth, where he had lived with his mother and stepfather and Mrs. Dunn until his mother’s death. Andrew, who had been away at boarding school, didn’t see the steely-eyed desperado who arrived in Fort Worth on the evening train that fateful day. He wouldn’t have recognized that Jared. Mrs. Dunn remembered, though, and was grateful for kindly providence, which had spared her grandson a violent death.
“And now your grandson thinks that all women are unscrupulous,” Noelle guessed.
Mrs. Dunn drew her thoughts back to the present. “Perhaps he’s learned over the years that honest women exist. But he isn’t a ladies’ man. Not that he’s unattractive to women,” she added quickly. “Although at your age, Noelle, you may not see him in the same light that a mature woman would.”
In fact, Noelle found herself drawn to Jared unwillingly, and as she spent more time around him, she learned that he was complex and mysterious. She was curious about who he was behind the solemn, stoic expression that he wore constantly. Only his eyes were alive in his face, and there were times when she thought she saw terrible pain in them—not physical pain, either.
His limp was less pronounced now, surprisingly. Perhaps he was disguising his limp for fear that it would affect his clientele, she thought, and then dismissed the thought as frivolous. Possibly the sunny weather had made his leg ache less.
* * *
WHEN THE GRAMOPHONE arrived, she had to wait until he volunteered dance lessons again. He didn’t do it immediately, either. He was involved in a meticulous land swindle case that required long days and Saturday work as well. She wondered if he’d forgotten his promise to groom her socially. She had to work up the nerve to ask him, but he’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t liked to worry him with her problems.
She’d have loved Andrew to teach her those things, and to dance. But it would be less than honorable to ask him when Jared had already volunteered.
But if Jared was distant now, Andrew was, in fact, very attentive. He approved of her new wardrobe and complimented her on each new outfit, although he was strangely hesitant to mention the blue suit she’d purchased on sale. He began to seek her out to talk, but always around the house. He never offered to take her out of an evening, and she knew that he was openly going to theater engagements and dinner with Miss Beale at least once a week.
* * *
JARED WAS TOO involved in his practice to notice Andrew’s sudden preoccupation with making Noelle happy. And when the Gramophone arrived, he put it aside and tried to ignore it. But when he had his office arranged as he liked it, and began to attract his first clients, he became aware that there was a social club dance upcoming. Andrew had mentioned it, and Noelle had sighed, as if she knew that he wouldn’t ask her, finery or no finery. He saw Noelle watching him with curious, hopeful glances for several days before the date of the dance. He couldn’t put her off any longer. He wasn’t sure if he was sorry or not.
* * *
ONE FRIDAY EVENING, when Andrew was still out of town on a visit to see a Houston builder and Mrs. Dunn had retired to her room to read, Jared sought out Noelle in the parlor and invited her into the living room.
He was wearing a neat dark blue vested suit. He looked elegant and rich. Noelle, in her lacy white blouse and dark blue skirt, matched him uncannily.
“Oh, you’re going to teach me to dance!” she enthused.
He closed the sliding doors to the living room. “Hopefully. My grandmother finds some of the newer dances sinful.”
“I expect you know them all?” she teased.
He glared at her, resting his cane against the wall as he cranked the Gramophone.
“Forgive me,” she said demurely, and without a great deal of sincerity.
“A simple two-step is the easiest dance,” he told her. He turned as the soft, sweet tune came from the instrument with its huge trumpet speaker. “Come here.”
She went to him, thrilling to the deep note of his voice as he waited for her, arms at his side.
“It won’t hurt your leg to do this?” she asked.
“Would I volunteer if it did?” he snapped.
She grasped her skirt in both hands with a huffy noise.
“Probably! You and I both know that you wouldn
’t go back on your word if you knew your leg would break when you tried to dance on it!”
“You know me very well, don’t you? Or you think you do,” he added coolly.
The look in his eyes made her restless. She dropped her gaze to his chin. “We don’t really ever know other people,” she replied.
“So it seems.” He wasn’t wearing gloves. She didn’t notice until she felt the strength and heat of his hand at her corseted waist. Even through whalebone stays and the heavy duck fabric of the corset, and the softer muslin of her chemise and her cotton blouse, his touch was disturbing. He was also uncannily strong for such a slender man. At close range, he was much more muscular than he appeared.
“Don’t look at your feet,” he said curtly when she started to peer down past her long skirt.
“How can I see what I’m doing?” she asked reasonably.
“Dancing is mostly instinct,” he said. “Listen to the music and move with it.”
She tried, and stepped on his booted foot. She grimaced. “Excuse me.”
He sighed irritably and stopped. “Let me lead,” he said firmly.
“But I was. I didn’t expect you to stop so suddenly.”
“I was turning.”
“Oh.” She listened to the beat and forced her feet to follow. But almost at once, he started toward her, and she tripped on her skirt.
“God Almighty, can’t you watch where you’re putting your damned feet!” he cursed, catching her.
“You have a foul mouth and a nasty temper!” she admonished, breathlessly clutching his hard arms to keep her balance. “This was your suggestion, remember; you offered to teach me to dance. I don’t remember begging you to.”
He laughed under his breath and his eyes kindled with odd flames. “Your tongue has the fire of your hair in lamplight,” he remarked, watching the glow of it. “It’s like sunset—gossamer strands, dancing with fiery light.”
She felt her breath stop. Her eyes became lost in his.
“That surprises you?” he asked quietly. “A staid, bookwormish attorney should be incapable of flowery prose, is that what you think?”
“You don’t seem the sort of man to mince words,” she replied evasively. “Or the sort to flatter.”
His gaze fell to her soft mouth. “And if I should tell you that it isn’t flattery?”
She forced a laugh. “You’re teasing, sir.”
His arm contracted abruptly, riveting her soft body to his long, hard one. He looked into her eyes—so close that she could see the dark blue circles around the pale blue irises. His body was like warm steel, and the arm enclosing her was inflexible. He still looked at her mouth, with an intensity that should have made her apprehensive. It did, but not in a fearful way.
The feel of his muscular strength was new and electrifying. When his head started to bend, her heart stopped and then ran wild.
His mouth poised over hers as he began to move to the music. She hung there, waiting, breathless. Her feet followed where his led, while the soft tune enveloped them timelessly. His breath touched her lips. She could almost taste the mint tea that had recently graced it, warmly scented. He wore cologne, because its spicy scent was in her nostrils, too. She watched his hard mouth hover; her body felt swollen with sensation. She became boneless, dependent on his strength to keep her upright as he moved and moved her to the slow, soft beat of the music.
As it ended, he turned sharply and lowered her against his side, so that her body was angled across the whole warm, muscular length of his. And while she clung to him to avoid falling backward, his head bent, and she felt the threat of his hard mouth just above hers for one long, sweet, heady second. If only he would bend, she thought breathlessly, just a fraction of an inch… If only, if only! Her nails bit into his shoulders and her lips parted in anticipation.
But he barely hesitated before he drew her back to her feet and moved away from her, holding her by the waist only for a few seconds before his arm dropped. He didn’t smile. His eyes searched hers, looking for secrets. She could barely breathe normally. Her face was flushed, her eyes blank from the brief, exciting threat of his lips. She looked at him disorientedly, confused, the lace at her breasts fluttering with the desperation of her heartbeats.
He stared back, unmoving, as the needle dragged against the cartridge with a scratchy sound that repeated unheard.
The sound of the grandfather clock was louder than the static, each beat a heartbeat in the tense silence.
Jared’s eyes searched hers slowly, letting only them touch her. They moved from her flushed face to her mouth, down to the faint tremble of her breasts, the clasp of her hands tight at her waist, over her rounded hips and down the length of the skirt, to the tips of her black shoes under the long ruffle.
An eternity of seconds later, that bold gaze worked its way back up. She hadn’t moved. Her lips were parted and her breathing was audible.
“Have you been kissed, Noelle?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly.
He let out a short breath. He looked worried. Puzzled. Confused. Hesitant. One hand clenched at his side. Only then did she notice that his own chest was rising and falling a little roughly.
“You’re a guest under my roof,” he said huskily. “I can’t allow myself to forget it, any more than I can permit such abandon by my stepbrother.”
“I—I haven’t invited…” she stammered.
“Of course not,” he replied quietly. “You’re young, Noelle, and very innocent. One of us must act responsibly.” He moved to the Gramophone and cut if off. His hand lingered absently on the trumpet. “We’ll continue this when we aren’t alone,” he said.
She flushed as she stared at his long back. It sounded as if he was accusing her of tempting him.
But then he turned—and she saw that she was mistaken. His gaze was intent but not accusing.
He pleased her eyes, she thought as she looked at him. He had a grace of carriage, an arrogance, that was as different from Andrew’s swagger as night was from day. He had the look of authority about him, and it needed no medals on his chest to make it known.
“You’re staring,” he said softly.
“Forgive me. I…like looking at you,” she confessed shyly. “You said that we were to be honest with each other,” she added when his eyes narrowed.
He let out a long breath. “So I did.” He smiled faintly.
“It didn’t hurt your poor leg?” she asked quickly.
He shook his head. “I’ve had worse than this, you know. It isn’t the first…mishap I’ve ever suffered,” he added, biting back the word bullet, which had come naturally to his lips before he stopped it.
She straightened her skirt. “Jared, what were you like as a boy?” she asked curiously.
His face stiffened. “Like most boys, I got into mischief as often as possible.” He took out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “I have to find a legal precedent among my law books in the study. Excuse me.”
She touched his arm lightly as he started to pass her and looked up into his face. “Jared, you said that we’d be honest with each other,” she reminded him.
The sound of his name on her lips, heard for the first time, made him hungry. He could feel the heat from her body, she was so close to him. She presented a temptation that was very disturbing to him. Involuntarily his lean fingers went to her throat and moved lightly to her lips. “Say my name again,” he said quietly.
Her heart raced. “Jared,” she whispered obediently.
He took her small chin between his thumb and forefinger and drew it up so that her lips were poised under his searching gaze. Yes, she would let him kiss her. In fact, the hunger she felt was visible, because she was too young and vulnerable to hide it. And he was tempted. He was more than tempted. He had ached intolerably at the fee
l of her soft, untouched body in his arms. But stronger than desire, his or hers, was his sense of honor. She was a guest under his roof, deserving of his protection. He had no right to make her feel insecure or uncomfortable because of his advances, even if she did think she wanted them. Honor, he thought, could be trying at times.
With a short, rough breath he released her.
“It’s late,” he said in a tone so gruff that it was unfamiliar.
Her eyes searched his. She frowned, because her own helpless hunger for him puzzled her. She was shaky all over from his nearness, but his face was like stone.
He turned away from her, seemingly with no regret at all. “Good night, Noelle,” he said carelessly.
“Jared,” she said weakly, searching for a way to ask him why he was so reluctant to come close to her.
He picked up his cane and leaned on it while he searched her eyes. “There are dark places in my soul,” he said unexpectedly, as if he knew what she was thinking. “You know only what I allow you to see. There are things I could never tell you. Be my friend, Noelle. But expect no more than that from me. Your mouth is sweet and it tempts me more than you might realize. But I have nothing to give you. And you have nothing to offer that I haven’t had before.”
She flushed and drew herself up to her full height. “You needn’t sound as if I were flinging myself at you! You’re a mature man and I haven’t ever known anyone like you before,” she began proudly, to explain her helplessness.
He didn’t smile. “Yes, I know. You’re vulnerable with me and you don’t understand why, because you think you’re attracted to Andrew. But I don’t think that you really want him, Noelle. And that may spare you some heartache.”
“Why?”
“Because Andrew wants you.”
She felt her cheeks go hot. “He’s my friend.”
“He wants you,” he persisted, narrow-eyed and intent. “Take care that you spend very little time alone with him. He’s a gentleman, but only to a point. My stepbrother’s something of a rake. I wouldn’t see you hurt for all the world.”