Diamond Spur

by Diana Palmer

  “You won’t let me,” she replied softly, and even laughed a little. “Nobody’s that privileged in your life, Jason, not even me.”

  “People can hurt if they get close enough,” he said. “I learned that the hard way, when I was just a kid.” He laughed coldly as he drove, his face hard with the memories. “My dad used to put on a big show when I’d made him mad. He’d hold out his arms and smile at me, and talk really sweet. And then, when I was close enough to catch, he’d beat the hell out of me. I never knew when it was coming. I could never tell. It was safer to stay out of his reach—physically and emotionally.”

  “And now you stay out of everybody’s reach because of it,” she said. Hers, included.

  “That might have been different if my mother hadn’t saved herself and left Gene and me at his mercy,” he replied. His voice got even colder as he went on. “My mother, damn her soul, put her own needs first. He was a hellion when he drank, but it was because of her that he gave in to alcohol. He went over the line when she left. He missed her every day he lived.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  He glanced at Kate with a curious expression. After a minute he smiled bitterly. “Oh, she’s alive. She’s very much alive. Every year, on my birthday, she sends me a card and another tearstained note begging me to come and talk to her. She never elaborates, and she never gives up. And I never go.”

  Kate stared at him without speaking. Jason sounded bitter and cruel, and the face she saw then frightened her. He never forgave people. Kate wondered if someday, somehow, she’d fail him. And he’d look at her with that cold smile and push her to one side without mercy. She shivered a little.

  “Your birthday is in April,” she recalled.

  “When is yours? I keep forgetting.”

  “In January. I’ll be twenty-one the next one.”

  “An old lady,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling. They softened on her. “By then, you’ll look very, very pregnant.”

  “You sound smug.” He didn’t elaborate, but he felt proud, too, that he’d managed to get her pregnant the first time he’d tried. He could talk about wanting his freedom, but he’d wanted Kate until she was his major obsession. While she was pregnant, she was his completely. No other man would look at her with desire or want her, and her career would have to take a back seat to motherhood. And she’d have to lean on him, just a little. That made him feel fiercely male, and he liked the feeling.

  “Have you told Sheila and the others?” she asked.

  “It was too late when I got home last night,” he said, “and I was up and gone early to Dallas for a meeting. I thought we’d go tell them together.”

  “It will be embarrassing,” she said nervously.

  “Hell! They’re family.”

  She thought about that, and relaxed a little. Yes. They were family, and none of them would ostracize her.

  If Jason had expected to surprise Sheila, he was doomed to disappointment. She was waiting at the front door with two skeins of pink and blue wool and her knitting needles under one arm.

  “Thought I’d get a head start,” she told Kate, grinning wickedly. “Are we having a boy or a girl, or hasn’t his lordship here decided yet?” she jerked her head toward Jason.

  Kate burst out laughing and hugged Sheila warmly. “Oh, Sheila, you angel.”

  “Be careful that she doesn’t stab you with her angelic pitchfork,” Jason muttered. “She overstarches my shirts and changes detergent every second week so that I break out all over….”

  “Keep it up,” Sheila glowered at him. “Just keep it up and I’ll teach you the true meaning of the term ‘burnt offering,’ because that’s all you’ll get from now on.”

  “And what do you mean, ‘from now on’?”

  “Where’s my broom?” Sheila muttered, looking around.

  “I think Barton borrowed it to fly to town on,” Jason offered, and sidestepped as the bulky woman swung, grinning at her.

  “Your brother and sister-in-law are watching a movie in the living room,” Sheila called after him as he caught Kate’s hand and guided her down the hall. “At least, she is. I think he’s painting her.”

  “When isn’t he painting something?” Jason asked curtly. “Everything except those new fences we put up, and the wagon….”

  “I heard that!” Gene called through the open door.

  He was working at an easel while Cherry, in a beige pantsuit, was curled on the couch watching a soap opera.

  “Why, Gene, that’s very good,” Kate exclaimed, peering at the half-finished canvas that depicted Cherry in a lazy, sultry mood. It captured her elfin quality completely. “Cherry, you’ll love it, you’re gorgeous.”

  “So are you, honey,” Cherry laughed. She got up to hug Kate. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Same here,” Gene grinned, glancing past her at Jason. “And stop smirking, will you, big brother? Lots of men get to be fathers.”

  “Most of them don’t manage it on the first attempt,” Kate mused, watching Jason look uncomfortable.

  “Well, well,” Cherry said with a speculative look at Jason, who pretended not to see it.

  “How about a toast?”

  “Only with caffeine-free tea or something harmless,” Jason said. “No alcohol. It isn’t good for the baby.”

  “Yes, sir, Dr. Donavan,” Kate agreed, and smiled.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Go ahead. Argue.”

  “Not me. I agree wholeheartedly.”

  After they all toasted her health and the baby’s, Kate took Cherry off to one side and enlisted her help with the wedding. The younger girl was delighted to assist in planning. Sheila would be pressed into service as well, to deal with the caterers. Kate and Cherry planned to go together to choose the invitations the next day. Thank God Jason was rich; he could pay for the rushed printing job.

  Afterward, while Kate went upstairs with Jason to look at the master bedroom, Gene and Cherry went back to their painting.

  “He never does a damned thing around here,” Jason said shortly as they went down the wide hall. “Except paint and have exhibits. But he never sells anything. God, Kate, he’s my brother and I love him, but I can’t break my back supporting him for the rest of his life.”

  “Yes, I know.” She slid her hand into his big one, shocked at the way he actually flinched. She started to draw it back, but his fingers contracted suddenly.

  He looked down at her. “I’m not used to being touched,” he said softly, pausing before an open door. “It had been over two years since I’d had a woman, that afternoon with you.”

  She was shocked. Actually shocked. Her eyes stared into his without total comprehension.

  “Did you think I was a playboy?” he asked, his eyes intent on her face.

  “I guess I did,” she confessed.

  He searched her eyes for a moment, wondering how shocked she’d be if she knew just how inexperienced he really was. He led her into the big bedroom. It had exquisitely large furniture, very dark and obviously hand-carved. The bed was king-size, and had four tall posters with a chest at the foot. The dresser and chest of drawers were on opposite walls, across a thick beige carpet. The coverlet on the bed was quilted and depicted a Western landscape. The earth colors in it were reflected in the woven drapes as well as in the two leather armchairs beside the rock fireplace. There was even a daybed, a holdover from the post-Civil War days.

  “It’s very masculine,” Kate said.

  “No woman has even set foot in here since I’ve been the head of the household,” he replied. He lifted his cigarette to his lips and looked down at her. “You’ll be the only woman I’ve ever made love to in this room.”

  She trembled at the husky warmth in his voice as he said that, and she almost took a step toward him. But the spotting and the cramps had frightened her, and she knew now that intimacy had a kind of violence all its own. A violence that could harm the baby.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Something’s upset you. Wha
t?”

  “The baby,” she whispered, searching his eyes worriedly. “It’s dangerous, the first three months….”

  “I see.” He lifted his chin and studied her eyes. “Did Harris tell you to avoid intimacy?”

  “No,” she said honestly. “But, it might be as well if you talked to him,” she added hesitantly, because she didn’t really want that.

  “Only at gunpoint,” he said mockingly. “I don’t need a lecture on my evil ways. And I can wait. I know what you’re thinking. We’re a pretty violent combination when we make love. I don’t want to hurt the baby any more than you do.”

  She managed to smile. It would make things harder, of course, if they didn’t have that physical bond to ease them over the rough spots. But there was a very real risk that she might lose his baby, and she didn’t want him to blame himself if something went wrong.

  “I’ll understand if you want me to sleep somewhere else,” she faltered. “I mean, I know it’s difficult for men…”

  Jason drew her closer, his lean hands gentle on her arms. “Kate, I don’t want you anywhere at night except beside me,” he said bluntly.

  She sighed. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she whispered, her eyes on his chest. “But I was afraid to ask.”

  His hands contracted. “Why?”

  “Because I know you’re marrying me because of the baby, Jason,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to pretend it’s out of undying love. You aren’t any more in love with me than I am with you. And because of that,” she said, carrying off the lie beautifully, “I didn’t feel right about asking for any special favors. But I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone.”

  He didn’t move. After a minute, he released her and moved away, looking quietly out the window. “It isn’t a special favor,” he said finally. “There’s a daybed. I’ll sleep on that, and you can have the big bed. If you need anything in the night, I’ll be handy.”

  “I’m sorry about everything,” she said hesitantly.

  He laughed coldly, and he didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. What she’d said about not loving him hurt. “So am I,” he said.

  She turned away toward the door. “I guess I’d better get you to take me home, if you don’t mind. I have to get supper for Mama and me.”

  “You can stay to dinner with us,” he said, turning.

  “Mama and I will only have a few more evenings together,” she replied. “I’d like to enjoy them.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said carelessly. “Come on, then. I’ll drive you back.”

  She followed him down the hall, but this time she didn’t try to hold his hand. She felt as if he’d just slammed a door between them and locked it, and she wondered if it was because she’d asked him not to sleep with her. That only reinforced her earlier idea, that what he’d felt for her was nothing more than desire. And that had already burned out when he came back from Australia. It was going to be a rough marriage. She only hoped she could stick it out long enough to show him how much she loved him. And maybe when the baby came, he might feel a little more for her than he did now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate wondered at the power of easy cash, when she saw how quickly their wedding invitations had been printed and mailed out. Jason had reluctantly agreed to wait two weeks so that Kate, Cherry, and Sheila would have time to get caterers, organize a reception, and have the invitations engraved and mailed.

  Kate was a bit relieved about the delay, because she and the design staff were tearing their collective hair out trying to manage the last samples before the salesmen carried them out the door. The showings were barely three weeks away, and Kate’s stamina was wearing thin. It was the worst possible time to get married, but Jason was adamant. He didn’t want Kate showing when they spoke their vows.

  “I’ll never get it all done in time,” Kate moaned as she and her mother ate supper two nights before the wedding. “I’m worn to a frazzle already, and I still have another week’s work ahead of me with twelve-hour days. Even with Cherry and Sheila helping, organizing the wedding is killing me.”

  “Can’t some of the other girls help with the design deadlines?” Mary asked.

  “Not with the actual designs, no,” Kate sighed. “And I’m helping do a couple of the patterns, too, to save the pattern makers some time. They’re already behind. It’s such a mess. Why does Jason want to get married this fast? Most people know I’m pregnant; does it really matter if they can see that I am?”

  Mary smiled gently. “It matters to your future husband.”

  “My future husband is going to be one big handful,” Kate told her mother. “I can see what a peaceful relationship we’re going to have because he’s already making angry noises about the time I’m spending at the plant. He hates the whole idea of my having a career.”

  “You’ll change his mind.”

  “I’ll have to, won’t I?” Kate asked with a bittersweet smile.

  “Kate, you do love him?” Mary said unexpectedly, the green eyes so much like her daughter’s narrow with concern.

  Kate hugged her. “More than my own life,” she confessed, “although he doesn’t feel that kind of loving for me. But I wonder if he’s really capable of giving himself, Mama. He’s been locked up in his shell for a long time.”

  “If he has, then you’re the only one he ever gave a key to,” Mary reminded her. “Think about it. He never would let anyone else get close.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” she agreed. She didn’t add that Jason’s attitude had grown more and more distant since her visit to the house the night they became engaged. He was pleasant and attentive and overwhelmingly concerned about her. But it was a surface kind of thing, and the man beneath the mask was as enigmatic as ever.

  The sight of her dress on Dessie’s rack the next morning caused Kate to catch her breath. The other women gathered around, all smiles, to watch as she held it against her.

  “It’s glorious,” Kate sighed. “It’s just glorious.”

  “You designed it, darling,” Dessie reminded her. “I just put the pieces together. And it will knock their eyes out, you mark my words. Try it on. Let’s see how you look.”

  Kate didn’t need encouraging. She ducked behind the screen that the models used and fumbled her way into the yards and yards of satin and alençon lace.

  It had an exaggerated keyhole neckline and an empire waist, with a long train because she’d always wanted one. The leg of mutton sleeve variation tapered to a point over the back of her hand, with pearl buttons to close them at the wrist. Kate had used the satin mostly without a lace overlay, except for the skirt and lace appliqués at the cap of the sleeves and on the long point of the cuff. The skirt was elegantly full, and there was a delicate feathering of alençon lace appliqués on the hem. The gown was accented by a Juliet cap from which the veil was draped, and when Kate looked in the mirror, she felt exquisitely beautiful.

  “Wow,” was all Dessie had to say.

  “I can’t believe I designed that.” Kate shook her head, delighted with the fit. It was as comfortable as it was lovely, and she wondered at the talent she wasn’t even aware of having. Sometimes she felt as if she was looking at someone else’s designs, because the ideas came out of thin air and seemed to settle on paper before her startled eyes.

  “Well, you did. And it is gorgeous!” Dessie assured her. “You’ll be on the cover of Vogue in that!”

  “I’ll settle for not passing out at the altar,” Kate whispered conspiratorially.

  “Well, we, uh, did rather wonder at the waist measurement,” Sandy confessed with a smile.

  “A bit large for a perfect size ten, which you were,” Dessie agreed.

  “Not large for a pregnant lady,” Kate reminded them. She sighed. “I know it’s jumping the gun and all that, but I’m just shockingly thrilled about the whole thing,” she added with a flush. “I’ve wanted a baby since I was eighteen. Not that this is exactly the most orthodox way to get one….
”

  “If you want it, and you’re going to love it,” Dessie began, “and your future husband wants it as much, I’d say that’s going to be a very happy baby.”

  Kate smiled. “He does want it. Very much.”

  “Congratulations, then,” Dessie said, hugging her. “And thank you for sharing the news with us, before it’s official.”

  “I hope your invitations came?” Kate asked hesitantly, because Jason’s list had some very prominent people on it and Kate’s friends were largely plant people. Considering her feelings about her career, it wouldn’t be unlike him to simply cross them off the list if he disapproved the invitations.

  “Got mine this morning,” Dessie said, and Kate could have dropped with relief when that news was echoed by the other staff. “I hear Mr. Rogers got one, and that Roberta even had one. She’s flying down for the wedding.”

  “Oh, how lovely,” Kate laughed. “She was so nice….” She hesitated. “And Clarisse?”

  “If that’s the black designer, she said she can’t come,” Sandy said. “She’s been given a huge break. Roberta’s brother has hired her for his couture house! She’s working as an assistant designer!”

  “But she insulted him,” Kate gasped. “She told him off royally, at his own party, too.”

  “He likes spunk, I’m told. Anyway, Clarisse said to say thanks for the invitation, and only getting ready for her own show at the Waldorf would stop her from coming to your wedding. She says she’ll see you in New York when they show your collection with the other Clayborn lines.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” Kate said, and meant it. “Being on Seventh Avenue during market week is going to be an experience. And thank you so much for my wedding gown. I can’t tell you how grateful I am….”

  “Sure you can,” Dessie assured her. “Go ahead. And you just remember me when you get your own house and you need a sample hand.”

  “And a cooperative and highly talented designer,” Sandy seconded.

  “And two marvelous assistants with great taste in trim purchasing,” Pamela and Becky added.