by Diana Palmer
“If he does, he'll wish he hadn't,” Phillip said. “And if you buy that dress, Kathryn, I'm going away for the weekend.” He made a mock shudder. “I can't stand the sight of blood.”
“Blake won't do anything,” she said smugly. “Not in front of his guests.”
“Blake will do anything, anytime, in front of anybody, and if you don't know that by now, you're even crazier than I thought you were.” He shook his head. “Give it up, Kathy. Blake's only trying to do what's best for you.”
“That's beside the point, Phillip,” she replied, smoothing the velvet under her slender fingers. “I don't want to spend the rest of my life being told what to do. Blake's not my keeper.”
“If you go out after dark in that dress, you'll need one,” he murmured, staring at her.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You're a nice man.”
“Kathryn, are you sure…?”
“Don't be such a worrywart,” she told him. She motioned to the saleswoman. “I'll take all of them,” she said with a smile. “And that green velvet one, as well.”
Phillip frowned. “What green velvet one?”
“It's ever so much more daring than this,” she lied, remembering the high halter neckline and soft lines of the other dress she'd tried on. “It doesn't have a back at all,” she added in a wicked whisper.
“Lord help us!” Phillip said, lifting his eyes upward.
“Don't bother Him,” Kate said, “He has wars and floods to worry about.”
“And I have you,” he groaned.
“Lucky man,” she said, patting his cheek before she went to charge her purchases. “Come on. You have to sign the ticket.”
“Whose name would you like me to sign on it?” he asked.
“Oh, silly!” she laughed.
***
She and Phillip had managed to sneak in the back way and dart upstairs to dress for dinner without being seen. Recklessly, Kathryn slid into the burgundy velvet dress after she had her bath, and tacked up her long hair in a seductively soft bun on top of her head with little curling wisps trailing down her blushing cheeks. She used only a little makeup—just enough to give her a mysterious look, a hint of sophistication. The woman looking back at her in the mirror bore no resemblance to the young girl who'd left that room the same day to go shopping.
Satisfied with what she saw, she added a touch of Givenchy perfume and sauntered downstairs. She heard voices coming from the living room, and Blake's was among them. She felt suddenly nervous, uneasy. That would never do. She lifted her head, baring the soft curve of her throat, and, gathering her courage, walked straight into the white-carpeted, blue-furnished room.
She noticed two things immediately: the possessive blonde clinging to Blake's sleeve like a parasite, and the sudden, blazing fury in Blake's eyes as he looked at Kathryn Mary.
“Oh, there you are, darl…ing,” Maude said, her voice breaking on the word as she noticed the dress. “How…different you look, Kathryn,” she added with a disapproving glance.
“Where did you get that dress?” Blake asked in a harsh, low voice.
She started to speak, then darted a glance at Phillip, who was burying his face in his hand. “Phillip bought it for me,” she said in a rush.
“Kathryn!” Phillip groaned.
Blake smiled, like a hungry barracuda, Kathryn thought shakily. “I'll discuss this with you later, Phil.”
“Could we make it after Kathryn's funeral?” Phillip asked, with a meaningful glance at Kathryn.
“Aren't you going to introduce me to your guests?” Kathryn asked brightly.
“Dick Leeds and his daughter, Vivian,” Blake said, indicating a tall, white-haired man with twinkling blue eyes and the equally blue-eyed blonde at Blake's side. “This is Kathryn Mary.”
“Kilpatrick,” she added proudly. “I'm the youngest, next to Phillip.”
“How do you do?” Dick Leeds asked pleasantly, and extended a thin hand to be shaken. He smiled at her. “Not a Hamilton, then?” he asked.
“I'm a cousin,” she explained. “Maude and the family took me in when my parents died, and brought me up.”
“Apparently not too successfully,” Blake said darkly, his eyes promising retribution as they seared a path down her body, lingering on the plunging neckline.
“If you don't stop picking on me, Blake,” she said sweetly, accepting a glass of sherry from Phillip, “I'll hit you with my teddy bear.”
Vivian Leeds didn't look amused, although her lips managed a thin smile. “How old are you, Miss Kilpatrick?” she asked listlessly.
“Much younger than you, Miss Leeds, I'm sure,” Kathryn replied with an equally false smile.
Phillip choked on his drink. “Uh, how was your trip, Viv?” he asked the blonde, quickly.
“Very nice, thanks,” she replied, her eyes cutting a hole in Kathryn. “Lovely dress,” she said. “What there is of it.”
“This old rag?” Kathryn said haughtily, her eyes speaking volumes as they studied the rose silk gown the blonde was wearing. “It's warm, at least,” she added. “I don't really care for these new fashions—some of them look more like nighties than dresses,” she said pointedly.
Miss Leeds's face colored expressively, her blue eyes lighting like firecrackers.
“Let's eat,” Maude said suddenly.
“Lead the way, Mother,” Blake said. Amusement was vying with anger in his dark eyes, and just for an instant, amusement won. But then his dark gaze slid sideways to Kathryn, and the smile faded. His eyes curved over the creamy, exposed skin at her neckline, and she felt as if he had touched her. Her lips parted under a rush of breath, and he looked up suddenly and caught that expression on her young face. Something flared in his dark eyes, like a minor volcanic upheaval, and Kathryn knew that she was going to be in the middle of a war before the night was over. But she managed to return Blake's glare with bravado, and even smiled. If she was going to be the main course on his menu, she might as well enjoy the appetizer first.
Phillip dropped back beside her as they made their way into the dining room. “Feeling suicidal?” he asked under his breath. “He's blazing, and that sweet little smile didn't help.”
“Revolutionaries can't afford to worry about tomorrow,” she replied saucily. “Besides, Blake can't eat me.”
“Can't he?” he asked, casting a wary glance toward his brother, who was glaring at them over Vivian's bright head.
“Phillip, you aren't really afraid of him, are you?” she teased. “After all, you're brothers.”
“So,” he reminded her, “were Cain and Abel.”
“Don't worry, I'll protect you.”
“Please don't,” he asked mournfully. “Why did you have to tell him that I bought you that dress?”
“But, you did sign for it,” she said innocently.
“I know, but buying it wasn't my idea.”
“Be reasonable, Phil,” she said soothingly. “If I'd told him it was my idea, he'd have gone straight for my throat.”
He gave her a measuring look. “And having him go for mine was a better idea?”
She smiled. “From my point of view, it was,” she laughed. “Oh, Phil, I am sorry, really I am. I'll tell him the truth.”
“If you get the chance,” he muttered under his breath, nodding toward his brother.
Blake seated Vivian and then turned to hold out a chair for Kathryn. She approached it with the same aplomb as a condemned terrorist headed for the gallows.
“Nice party,” she murmured under her breath as she sat down.
“And it's only beginning,” he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Make one more snide remark to Vivian, and I'll grind you into the carpet, Kathryn Mary.”
She spared him a cool glance. “She started it,” she said under her breath.
“Jealous?” he taunted softly.
Her eyes jerked up to his, blazing green fire. “Of her?” she asked haughtily. “I'm not fifteen anymore,” she said.
“Before the night's over, you're going to wish you were,” he said softly. “I promise you.”
The deep anger in his voice sent chills running all over her. Why did she have to open her mouth and challenge him again? Hadn't she had enough warning? She felt a surge of fear at what lay ahead. It seemed that she couldn't stop fighting Blake lately, and she wondered at her own temerity. Was she going mad?
One glance at his set face down the table from her was enough to make her want to run upstairs and bar the door.
Dinner was an ordeal. Vivian monopolized Blake to such an extent that he was hardly able to carry on a conversation with anyone else, but her cold blue eyes made frequent pilgrimages to Kathryn's quiet face. The animosity in them was freezing.
“You're not doing much for international relations,” Phillip remarked as they retired to the living room for after-dinner drinks.
“Blake's doing enough for both of us,” she replied, darting a cool glance toward the blonde, who was clinging to Blake's big, muscular arm as if he were a life raft. “He has bad taste,” she said without thinking.
“I wouldn't say that,” Phillip disagreed. His brown eyes danced as they surveyed the blonde's graceful back. “She's pretty easy on the eyes.”
“Is she?” she asked with magnificent disdain. “Frankly, she doesn't do a thing for me.”
“Don't be sour,” he said. “You forget why she's here, darling. Remember the strike?”
“Oh, I remember,” she told him. “But does Blake? I thought her father was the focal point.”
“Part of it, at least,” he said.
She stared up at him. “What do you mean, Phil?” she asked curiously.
He avoided her sharp eyes. “You'll know soon enough. Look, Mother's motioning to you.”
Maude was showing some of her antique frames to Dick Leeds, but she left him with a smile and drew Kathryn aside.
“You're doing it again, my darling,” she moaned, darting a wary glance in Blake's direction. “He's ready to chew nails. Kathryn, can't you manage not to antagonize him for just one evening? The Leedses are our guests, remember.”
“They're Blake's guests,” came the sullen reply.
“Well, it is Blake's house,” Maude said with a placating smile. “Johnny left it all to him. He felt Blake would keep me from frittering it away.”
“You wouldn't have,” Kathryn protested.
Maude sighed. “Perhaps,” she said wistfully. “But it's a moot point. You aren't improving Blake's disposition, you know.”
“All I did was buy a new dress,” she said defensively.
“It's much too old for you, Kathryn,” she said quietly. “Phillip hasn't taken his eyes off you all evening, and every time he looks at you, Blake scowls more.”
“Phillip and I aren't related, after all,” Kathryn pointed out.
Maude smiled. “And there's no one I'd rather see him marry, you know that. But Blake doesn't approve, and he could make things very difficult for you.”
She scowled. “He doesn't approve of any man I date,” she grumbled.
Maude started to say something, but obviously thought better of it. “It will work itself out. Meanwhile, please at least be civil to Miss Leeds. It's terribly important that we make a good impression on them both. I can't tell you any more than that, but do trust me.”
Kathryn sighed. “I will.”
Maude patted Kathryn's slender shoulder. “Now be a dear, and help me entertain Dick. Blake is going to drive Vivian into King's Fort and show her how the city looks at night. She was curious, for some reason that escapes me.”
It didn't escape Kathryn, and it didn't improve her mood, either. Especially when she watched Vivian and Blake go out the door without a backward glance. She wanted to pick up the priceless Tang dynasty vase in the hall and heave it at Blake's dark head. In the end, she consoled herself with the fact that at least she didn't have to face Blake until the morning. That was a blessing in itself.
Dick Leeds was interesting to talk to. She liked the elderly man, who seemed to have the same kind of steel in his makeup that Blake did. All too soon, he went upstairs to his room, pleading fatigue from the long trip. Maude followed suit with a sigh.
“Like Dick,” she told Phillip and Kathryn, “I'm beginning to feel my age a little. Good night, children.”
Phillip challenged Kathryn to a game of gin rummy after Maude went out the door, but she protested.
“You'll just beat me again,” she pouted.
“I'll give myself a ten-point handicap,” he promised.
“Well…just a couple of hands,” she agreed finally.
He held out a chair for her at the small table by the darkened window. “Sit down, pigeon…I mean, partner,” he grinned.
She smiled across the table at him. “Why can't Blake be like you?” she wondered absently as he shuffled the cards. “Friendly, and easy to get along with, and fun to be around…”
“He used to be, when you were younger,” he answered, and his warm brown eyes twinkled. “It's only since you've started growing up that you think he's changed.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “I don't think, I know! He growls at me all the time.”
“You light the fires under him, my sweet. Like tonight.”
Her face closed up, like a fragile flower in a sudden chill. “I don't like her.”
“And the feeling seems to be mutual. I don't think attractive women ever really like each other.” He studied her unobtrusively. “But I have an idea that her dislike stems from your own. You've hardly been friendly toward her.”
She drew in a defeated sigh. “You're right, I haven't,” she admitted.
“Trying to get back at Blake?” he persisted.
“My arsenal is limited when it comes to fighting your brother,” she sighed.
He laid down three cards in sequence and discarded. “That goes for all of us.”
She held the cool cards up to her lips absently while she drew a card, looked at it, grimaced, and laid it down on the discard pile. “I don't see why I can't have an apartment,” she said. Her full lips pouted against the cards. “I can get a job and pay for it.”
“A job doing what?” he asked politely.
She glared at him. “That's the problem. Finishing school didn't prepare me for much of anything. I know,” she said, brightening. “I'll advertise to be a rich man's mistress! I'm eminently qualified for that!”
Phillip buried his face in his hands. “Don't you dare say that to Blake when I'm in the room! He'll think I suggested it!”
She laughed at the expression on his face. Phillip was such fun, and such a gentleman. She was fonder of him than she liked to say. He was truly like the brother she wished she'd had. But Blake…she turned her attention back to her cards.
She was so caught up in the game of gin rummy that she forgot the time. She was one card short of winning the game when all of a sudden she heard the front door open and she froze in her seat.
“Oops,” she murmured weakly.
Phillip smothered a grin at the look on her soft features. “Sounds like they're home,” he commented, as Vivian's high-pitched voice called good-night from the staircase.
Before she could reply, Blake, looking big, dark and formidable, came in the door. He glanced at the tableau they made as he slung his jacket onto a chair and tugged his tie loose, tossing it carelessly onto the jacket.
“Have a good time?” Phillip asked slyly, his sharp gaze not missing the smear of lipstick just visible on Blake's shirt collar.
Blake shrugged. He went to the bar and poured himself a jigger of whiskey, neat.
“Uh, I think I'd better get to bed,” Phillip said, gauging Blake's mood with lightning precision. “Good night, all.”
“I think I'll go up, too,” Kathryn began hopefully, rising as Phillip made his hasty exit and disappeared into the hall.
Kathryn was only a step behind him when Blake's curt voice stopped her with her hand on the
doorknob.
“Close the door,” he said.
She started to go through it.
“From the inside,” he added in a tone that was honeyed, yet vaguely threatening.
She drew a steadying breath and went back into the living room, closing the door reluctantly behind her. She leaned back against it, flashing a nervous glance at him.
“Did you have a nice drive?” she asked.
“Don't hedge,” he growled. His angry eyes slid down her body in the velvet dress with its side slits and plunging neckline, and she felt as if his hands were touching her bare flesh.
“Dick's gone to bed. He's very nice,” she murmured, trying to postpone the confrontation as long as possible. She'd seen Blake in plenty of bad tempers, but judging by the control she read in his face, this one was formidable. The courage she'd felt earlier, in company, dissolved now that she was alone with him.
“So is his daughter,” he replied. “Not that you've taken the trouble to find out.”
She shifted against the cold wood at her back. “She bites.”
“So do you, honey,” he replied, lifting his glass to his lips. “I want the truth, Kate. Did Phillip buy you that dress?”
She felt weary all of a sudden, defeated. Blake always seemed to win. “No,” she admitted. “That is, he signed for it because I don't have a charge account, but Maude said herself that I needed some new clothes,” she added defensively.
“I said the same thing. But I hadn't planned on your dressing like a Main Street prostitute.”
“It's the style, Blake!” she shot at him.
“Almost exactly the same words you used after the Barringtons’ party,” he reminded her. “And I told you the same thing then that I'm telling you now. A dress like that raises a man's blood pressure by five points while it's still on the mannequin. On you…” He let his eyes speak for him, dark and sensuous as they caressed her.
“Vivian was wearing less,” she replied weakly, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “I could almost see through her dress.”
“Throwing stones?” he asked. “Your breasts are barely covered at all.”
Her face went hot under the words, and she glared at him with outrage in her sparkling green eyes. “Oh, all right, I'll never wear the silly dress again, Blake! But I can't see what difference it makes to you what I wear!”