by Lisa Kleypas
“Just what are you asking?”
“Raine and I have you in common, Heath.” Was that really her voice, so poisonously soft? “But just how much? How well has she known you? As well as I have? Were you ever lovers?”
He looked at her as if he didn’t recognize her. “Damn you for asking that.”
“Were you lovers?”
“If that makes a difference to you, then you can go to hell!”
“Were you?” she whispered.
“No,” he said, breathing hard, looking more outraged than she had ever seen him. “No. Not then, not now.”
“You can stop glaring at me like that. You invited all of this by bringing her here. You brought it on your own head, so don’t blame me for asking questions.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he said in a low voice, and it wasn’t a compliment. “It amazes me that there was ever a time I thought you needed toughening up.”
“Would you prefer someone more . . . helpless?”
Even Lucy had to admit that she had pushed him too far. Heath turned away from her and clenched his fists, so angry that he couldn’t see straight. A little bit afraid of him, Lucy walked past him and paused at the door, glancing at his rigid back.
“I don’t want this situation to continue indefinitely, Heath. I can tolerate having her here for a few days, but that’s all. If this turns into a contest of who can stay here the longest, I guarantee she’ll outlast me, because I can’t take too much of this.”
“What the hell have you turned into?”
A woman who loves you. A woman who is afraid she’ll lose you.
“I’m trying to be honest with you,” she said.
“Like hell you’re trying to be honest. Why don’t you just admit that this is all because of petty jealousy? And if you’re really this insecure, and you don’t have any more trust in me than this, then I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. I thought I understood enough about you to make this marriage work.”
“This marriage was working just fine before you brought her here. Do you think it’s reasonable to make this kind of demand of me? Do you think it’s fair?”
“No,” he said tersely, “I don’t.”
She was disconcerted by his admission. “Then . . . I don’t understand why you’re asking me to put up with this.”
Heath paused for a long time. When he spoke, he was so quiet and matter-of-fact that Lucy suddenly felt like an overemotional child.
“I won’t always be able to give you a reason for everything I do. But I don’t ask you to justify everything you do. Who said that things between us are always going to be fair? Marriage doesn’t work that way. There are no contracts between us. The only guarantees are those I gave you when I put that ring on your finger.”
Chapter 12
Under the circumstances, Lucy thought she did well at playing the gracious hostess. She did her best to ensure that no one could find fault with her household or her hospitality, and outwardly there were no signs of disharmony between any of the four of them. The conversations were conducted with exquisite politeness—at times, they were so careful that it seemed like a mockery of ordinary courtesy. It was a week in her life that she would forever look back on with distaste, but it was a highly instructive time. She learned about many new things, including the considerable differences between Southern women and Northern ones.
Amy and Raine possessed an artfulness and a charm that Lucy could only marvel at in a half-disparaging, half-envious way. In addition to their other talents, they had the ability to invite compliments and flattery with every breath they took. It was an art that even Amy, who was barely in her teens, seemed to have mastered. No matter how a conversation began, it always wound its way back to them. No Northern woman would ever attempt to give a man a wide-eyed look and say, “Oh, what a goose I am,” or “I just don’t know anything about anything,” but Raine did. It annoyed Lucy to distraction, but she had to admit that Raine was appealing when she put on such airs.
Though she wouldn’t begin to claim that she knew a great deal about the workings of men’s minds, Lucy was certain that any man, no matter who he was, would find Raine attractive. Did Heath admire that kind of behavior in a woman? Lucy was disheartened by the thought. Why had Heath encouraged her to use her mind if he wanted a woman who didn’t like to talk about important things? Why did he encourage her to argue with him if he wanted someone who would smile and agree with everything he said? Had it all been some kind of test that she had failed?
Heath had never been so puzzling to her. Everything she had come to associate with him—his attitudes, his sense of humor, his beliefs—all of that went slightly askew when the two Southern women were present. He was different around them. Ordinarily he was irritated by pointless chattering. Why, then, did he tolerate this nonsense?
Gone were the fascinating dinnertime conversations about politics and the Examiner. Raine and Amy didn’t want to talk about the news and popular debates; they talked about local gossip, as if the world revolved around their tiny county in Virginia. Heath didn’t seem to mind. He listened indulgently to them, laughed at their clever mimicking of people he had once known, and handed out compliments whenever they were called for. Lucy thought little of such automatic and meaningless flattery, and she was glad that Heath didn’t attempt to direct any of it her way. It would have been an insult to her intelligence. Silently she sat through these witless conversations and occupied herself with wondering about what thoughts lurked behind Raine’s silvery eyes.
Lucy knew that sooner or later, she and Raine would find themselves in a situation in which they would have the opportunity to speak privately. She wondered all through Saturday and Sunday about what the other woman would be like when Heath wasn’t around. Would Raine continue to play the game of Southern belle, or would she choose to reveal something about why she was really here? On Monday morning, Heath left early and went to the offices on Washington Street, and Amy excused herself from the table, leaving Lucy and Raine alone in the breakfast room.
Adding more sugar to her coffee and stirring it carefully, Lucy looked at the other woman with a measuring glance. Raine was lovely in a faded pink gown. A velvet ribbon had been woven through those astoundingly perfect ringlets of hair, called “kiss curls.” Raine stared back at her with a faint smile.
For the first time, they would talk to each other without an audience.
“Well, it appears that we’ve been deserted,” Lucy said, setting down her spoon and taking a sip of coffee.
“I’m glad we’re alone. I would like to thank you again, privately, for your kindness to Amy and me. We certainly don’t wish to be the cause of any trouble in your home.”
Lucy smiled in response to the delicate insinuation. “Please don’t worry. You haven’t caused any trouble at all.”
“There’s not a word of truth in that,” Raine said with a mellifluous laugh. “Unexpected company’s always trouble. But I’ll be leaving for England soon, and then you’ll have your home and your husband all to yourself again.”
Lucy’s spine stiffened at the implication that Raine had somehow undermined her position as Heath’s wife. “You’re welcome in my home. And I don’t mind any of the time that my husband wishes to spend with either of his sisters.” Lucy emphasized the last word lightly. After giving Raine a few seconds to digest that, she continued in a casual tone. “How exciting the prospect of living in England must be.”
“I wish I felt that way. But a transplanted Southerner is always a sorry sight. In fact, knowing Heath as I do, I just can’t understand what he is doing up here.” Her clear gray eyes took in every nuance of Lucy’s alert expression. “You should have seen him when he set foot on the plantation . . . he just looked around and took a deep breath, and talked about how good it was to feel the sun on his face again. Poor thing, I’ve never seen him so blue. Downright peaked. But a week or two in Virginia, and he was nearly himself again. It reminds me of what my mama always said�
�Southerners just aren’t meant to live anywhere but in the South. I don’t know what Heath was thinking of when he moved to the North. People here don’t understand men like him. Not that you don’t know how to please him . . . why, he’s just crazy about you. If anyone could keep him happy living up North, I know it’d be you.”
“So far it’s worked out quite well.” It was a struggle for Lucy to keep from sounding defensive. “He’s carving out a unique place for himself here. His accomplishments with the Examiner have been extraordinary.”
“Oh . . . that newspaper. Well, he certainly is living out his daddy’s dream. But someday I hope he’ll decide to follow his own dreams.”
“He seems to be quite happy with what he is doing.”
“Oh . . .” Raine cast her eyes down contritely. “I didn’t mean to imply that he wasn’t. Of course he’s happy. Of course.”
There was a note in her voice that irritated Lucy beyond reason, as if Raine were speaking to a distraught child that required soothing. Some of her annoyance must have been evident, for Raine gave her an appealing smile that was colored with more than a hint of satisfaction.
Lucy’s mind raced as she searched for the right words to say, words that would somehow show Raine that she, Lucy, was married to him and intended to stay that way. I’m his wife. You can’t change that, much as you’d like to. And if you had ever known him as well I do, you would never have given him up to marry Clay. The thought returned a measure of her confidence. “It’s only right that you’re concerned about Heath’s happiness,” she said. “You’re his sister-in-law—”
“And I’ve known him for years.”
“But you don’t know much about the way things are for him now. His life is exactly the way he wants it. He is following his own dreams, not anyone else’s. New dreams. His old ones died long ago.”
Raine’s smile faltered. “Some things never change.”
Now the line was drawn. Lucy had never thought that one of the fiercest battles of her life would be fought over a breakfast table, with quiet words carefully chosen. “Many things about Heath have changed.”
“He’ll always be a Southerner,” Raine insisted gently.
“But not strictly so. He has been successful here because of his ability to change. Now there’s some New England in him, too.” Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Lucy almost wanted to smile as she heard herself. Heath would have died, had he been witness to this conversation.
“It might make you happy to think that.” Now Raine was visibly trembling. “Maybe it’s even true. But you don’t know what he wants. If he’s between two worlds right now, then I know which one he belongs in, and someday he’ll come back to it.”
“And I’ll be right by his side.” Lucy stared at her without blinking. “I’ll follow him wherever he goes.”
“You couldn’t fit in where he belongs. Not if you stayed there a hundred years.” Suddenly Raine’s control broke and contempt edged her voice, making her sound curiously young. “How did you get him to marry you? You’re nothing like the women he was brought up with. He never showed any interest at all in your kind—”
“Until he decided he wanted to get married.”
Raine was speechless. She looked at Lucy’s small, set face for a long time, and then her expression went blank, as if a shutter had been drawn closed. “You must accept my apology, Lucinda. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle . . . I didn’t know what I was saying. I have been . . . upset since Clay’s death. I have not been myself.” Lucy nodded warily, pushing her chair back and standing up. Slowly Raine did the same. “Let’s forget all about our talk this morning. You won’t mention it to anyone, I hope.”
“Not unless I see the need to.”
Raine bit her lip, looking defenseless and lost. “Forgive me for what I said. Any fool could see that you’re a good wife to Heath.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Lucy said, finding to her disgust that there was nothing she could do but be courteous in the face of Raine’s distress. Oh, if only she could say what she really thought! “You have been through a difficult time. I can only imagine what it would be like to lose a husband.” She paused deliberately before adding, “In fact, just thinking about it makes me appreciate what I have all the more.”
“I’m glad to hear that you appreciate Heath. He is a very special man. I’ve always thought so.”
“According to Amy, you were married to a very special man yourself.”
“Yes. Clay was quite something.” There was little sign of emotion on Raine’s face. “At one time you could have said that Clay and Heath favored each other. But the war changed them both. Clay went in one direction, and Heath in the other. They both surprised us all.”
Feeling chilled by the odd silver gleam in the other woman’s eyes, Lucy nodded and turned away. She would have been even more disturbed had she seen the smile that curved Raine’s soft mouth as she left the room.
That night Lucy acknowledged privately that the situation was going to be even more of a strain than she had anticipated. She was desperate to be alone with Heath, but they didn’t have the time or the opportunity for that. Their guests seemed to have a monopoly on his attention, and she had barely exchanged ten words with him since he had gotten home. When they all retired for the evening, Lucy emerged from her bath, slipped on a robe and went to the bedroom with the intention of talking with him. She was just in time to see Raine’s slim silhouette in the semidarkness of the hallway. The muffled sound of drawers sliding open and shut came from inside the room as Heath prepared for bed. Unaware of her astounded audience, Raine opened the door quietly.
Pure outrage swept over Lucy. What did Raine think she was doing? What did she intend to accomplish? This was too much! Never in her life had Lucy felt the urge to attack someone physically, but at the moment she longed to put her hands on the dangling nut brown ringlets that adorned Raine’s head and pull them out one by one.
“Raine,” Lucy said, and the quiet, crisp snap of her voice caused the other woman to freeze in the middle of stepping through the doorway. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh . . . ,” Raine said, and blushed brightly, looking around in confusion. “Goodness, I . . . well, I just can’t find my way around here. There are so many rooms, and . . . I must have gotten myself turned around the wrong way. I’m so sorry—”
The door swung open all the way, and Heath stood there in trousers and bare feet, his unbuttoned shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and the trim expanse of his abdomen. Surprise flickered in his eyes as he saw Raine, and then his glance moved to Lucy. “What’s going on?”
“Raine forgot that her room is at the other end of the hallway,” she said softly. “But then, it must be confusing, with all these doors. And it’s such a big house.” She looked at the other woman. “Your room is in that direction, Raine. Next time just remember to turn right at the top of the stairs.”
Raine flushed and murmured an apology, walking to her own room with rustling skirts. A delicate fragrance of flowers floated in her wake. Lucy waited until the graceful feminine figure had disappeared before she fixed Heath with an accusing stare.
He sighed tautly. “Don’t start.”
She swept past him into the bedroom, heading for her dressing table with her chin thrust high. Snatching up a heavy silver brush, she dragged it through the wild chestnut torrent of her hair so roughly that she could feel the scratch of the bristles on her scalp. Heath sat on the bed and watched her silently, his eyes wandering freely over her silk-draped body before returning to her face.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that she has a rotten sense of direction,” Lucy said through gritted teeth. After slamming down the brush, she separated her hair into locks and began the nightly ritual of braiding it. “This whole situation is ridiculous. I’m a fool for putting up with it.” As Heath said something under his breath, she glared at him. “What did you say?”
After staring her d
own with cool blue eyes, he spoke in a chilling tone. “They’ll be gone in a few days. I’ve narrowed down the choices for Amy’s school, and next week she’ll be starting classes at one or the other of them—”
“Amy’s not the problem. Amy’s not the one I want out of this house.”
“Raine will leave for England the day after Amy is settled in school.”
“Why not now?”
“Because Raine’s mind is not going to be put at ease until she knows that Amy is safely settled—”
“I would appreciate it,” Lucy interrupted hotly, “if you worried as much about my peace of mind as you do about hers.”
“I never realized your peace of mind was so damned fragile.”
“I just want to know what’s going on between you and her, and why you insist on keeping her here when you know how I feel about it!”
“Nothing is going on between us!” Heath’s temper exploded. “For God’s sake, why do you keep on pushing her at me? It’s like you’re daring me to . . .”
“Daring you to what?”
“Lucy,” he said, concentrating all his effort to rein in his frustration, “I don’t know what’s happened. You’re obviously miserable, and you’re making life hell for both of us. I know you pretty well and this isn’t you. You’re one of the few women I know with some common sense . . . and here you are, completely rattled over nothing.”
“Nothing!” she exclaimed bitterly. “How can you sit there and say this is nothing?”
“All right, then,” he said gently. “Help me to understand.”
“You would understand a lot more if you could have heard the conversation I had with her this morning.”
His gaze sharpened. “What did you talk about?”
“You, of course.” Lucy laughed shortly. “All about you. About where . . . and with whom . . . you belong.”
“What did she say?”