“Yes.” He, on the other hand, sounded irritated.
The fiend. The miserable, coldblooded, horrid, awful, woman-seducing fiend. Brenda said sweetly, “Yes, Colin. It’s I, Brenda.” That should give him pause; she’d used I instead of me. She wondered if he’d notice it and catalog her proper use of pronouns in the machine that passed for his brain.
“Why in the name of heaven are you out here in the woods after dark?” he asked in a loud voice. “Did you intend to spend the night out here?”
He was getting closer. A faint streak of light issued from the gloom. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Brenda to discern a tall fir tree standing only a yard or so away from her. She ducked behind it. Darn him for calling her an idiot. Darn him for coming after her himself instead of sending somebody nice to look for her. George wouldn’t call her an idiot. Jerry Begay wouldn’t call her an idiot. Gil Drew wouldn’t call her an idiot.
It infuriated her to know she wouldn’t have cared if they had. Only Colin had the power to hurt her feelings. She raised her branch above her head, no longer heedful of the sap dripping down her arms and onto her frock.
He emerged, looking angry, holding his blasted torch up and shining it in a circle around him. “Where the deuce are you?”
She didn’t answer. He started walking again. When he was close enough to her tree for her to reach, Brenda brought the branch down on his head.
Chapter Sixteen
Colin didn’t know what hit him. Whatever it was didn’t hit him hard, but it was plenty hard enough to tumble him to the ground. On his way down, he reached up to hold on to his glasses, hit himself on the head with the torch, dropped the blanket, and sent the torch flying.
He sprawled in a pile of pine needles for a moment, confused, before he heard Brenda’s voice. Only it didn’t sound like her voice. It sounded like something that had come out of a crazed fishwife.
“How dare you call me an idiot!” the voice shrieked. “You devil!”
“Brenda?” Colin pushed the branch away from his face and felt his head to make sure it was all in one piece.
“How dare you? You wicked, wicked man!”
He didn’t understand this at all. He thought he’d come outside in the pitch dark to rescue her, and here she was vilifying him to the heavens. Not to mention the creatures of the forest, the trees, the moon and stars, and everything in between.
In a voice he hoped conveyed concern, and determined not to lose his temper since she had obviously become deranged, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
“Am I hurt? Am I hurt!” she hollered. “Of course I hurt, you lunatic! Wouldn’t you be hurt if somebody called you an idiot? And all because you’d got lost in the woods?”
He had no answer, primarily because he couldn’t comprehend the question. He hadn’t called her an idiot, had he? Well, maybe he had. He’d been thinking of her in unkind terms ever since he’d realized she wasn’t anywhere in or near the lodge. He tested an explanation on her. “I, ah, was worried about you when I discovered you were missing.”
“Missing?” she shrieked. “Missing! I wasn’t missing! I was here all the time. I’d gone outside to think, you miserable toad!”
Miserable toad? Him? Tentatively, he drew his knees up, preparatory to standing. The torch’s beam had gone out when it hit the earth, but there was a shaft of moonlight filtering through the tree branches. It landed right, smack on Brenda, its silvery light giving her a ghostly, shimmering appearance that was half frightening and half enchanting. It would have been a good deal more enchanting if she hadn’t continued to yell at him.
She didn’t wait for him to respond to her calling him a toad, which was just as well. “I was so scared! It was so dark, and I couldn’t see a thing, and then you came waltzing along, calling me an idiot! You beast!”
Carefully, Colin pushed himself to a sitting position. Squinting around the small clearing, he spotted the torch. Thank God his eyeglasses hadn’t come off. He hoped the torch wasn’t broken beyond redemption, because it would be much easier to get back to the lodge if they could see the way.
“Well?” she stormed. “Well? Don’t you have anything say, you—you—you louse?”
Louse? Colin began to feel the faintest degree of resentment. Here he’d come all the way out here, into the woods where God alone knew what dangers lurked, in order to find her, and she was screaming at him and calling him names. It didn’t seem sportsmanlike “Um, I thought you’d be glad somebody came after you, actually.”
“Glad? Why, you miserable goat! First you try to rape me and now you pretend to be some kind of chivalrous knight! I hate you, Colin Peters. I hate you!”
“Rape you?” Colin could scarcely believe his ears. “I did no such thing.” Offended, he climbed to his feet, picking up the torch on his way, and began to brush himself off. He stuck the torch into his pocket for the nonce, to get it out of his way.
“You did so,” Brenda declared emphatically. “You barged into my room and tried to take advantage of me, and don’t you dare deny it!”
Although he would never, ever take a woman by force, Colin had to acknowledge that he had intended something of a carnal nature when he’d gone up to Brenda’s room that afternoon. Nonetheless, her opinion of his intentions riled him
Then again, perhaps her experience in the woods had unsettled her more than he’d at first suspected. Colin wasn’t adept at reading human emotions and he wasn’t accustomed to considering other people’s feelings, mainly because he recognized so few of his own. Now, however, he squinted at Brenda and recognized a certain frenzy about her that was most atypical of the calm, steady, sunny-natured Brenda he’d come to know and—and—and— Well, know would do at present.
Trying to pitch his voice to a soothing timbre, he said, “You’re hysterical.” He didn’t mean it as an insult. He only stated what, to him, was obvious.
“I am not hysterical!” she bellowed.
“I believe you are, actually, Brenda.” This time, he meant his tone and words to imply that he understood and wasn’t going to hold her wild accusations and name-callings against her once she calmed down. To make sure she took his meaning, he smiled slightly and said, “It’s all right. You’ll feel better in a minute.”
To his astonishment, she seemed to stiffen. He hoped she wasn’t going to fall into some kind of seizure, although he’d been trained in first aid, so he probably could cope. It might even be easier to handle a seizure than this hysteria, come to think of it.
“You brute.” Her voice had gone deadly calm. “You fiend. You devil. You scoundrel. You monster.”
Now Colin wasn’t a sentimental sort. He’d lived in his head most of his life and wasn’t accustomed to fits of fiery temperament and so forth. And, while he chalked up this wild talk of Brenda’s to some kind of paroxysm brought about by fear, he didn’t like it.
“Don’t be silly,” he said calmly. Withdrawing the torch from his coat pocket, he began studying it in an effort to make its light work again. He heard Brenda breathing in short, gasping respirations, and assumed her riotous mood hadn’t abated, although she no longer screamed at him, which was an improvement. Hoping to calm her further, he said matter-of-factly, “I brought a blanket, in case you were cold.” He glanced up from the torch and added dryly, “I see you didn’t bother to bring a wrap with you.”
When she spoke again, Colin didn’t even recognize the sound as a voice. It sounded more like some kind of predatory animal poised to strike. The pitch was low, the tone menacing. “I didn’t bother to wear a wrap.”
It was a statement, a repetition of his, and he didn’t believe she expected a response. Anyhow, he was busy with the torch, although his concern with the torch was mainly a ruse to make Brenda settle down.
“I’d been walking in the woods because of you, Colin Peters,” she went on in that same lethal tone. “Because you had abused my friendship.”
This was too much. Colin couldn’t let it pass unremarked upon. “Now, re
ally, there’s no need—”
She went on, tromping over his explanation as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’d gone walking in order to think, because I was upset and confused. Because of you.”
To Colin, it sounded like an accusation. He didn’t think she could sound much more reproachful if she’d charged him with murder. He opened his mouth to refute her allegations when again she overrode him.
“I walked for what seemed like hours. I didn’t notice when it began to get dark because I was too busy thinking about things. I was too distressed about what kind of person you must believe me to be if you thought I’d approve of what you’d done.”
“Dash it, Brenda, I didn’t do—”
She held up a hand. He shut up. “Yes, you did,” She said. Thinly. “And I was hurt. Very hurt. And I didn’t notice when it began to get dark. And then, when I realized the sun must be setting, I tried to find my way back to the lodge. I couldn’t.”
“One should always mark one’s trail,” Colin pointed out, hoping in that way to show her that he was on her side.
It didn’t work. He ought to have expected it. Her voice rose on her next words. “Don’t you, dare patronize me, you awful man! What did you expect me to do? Leave a trail of crumbs?”
Although he suspected the question to be rhetorical he said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, “No. The birds and squirrels would have eaten them. What the Indians do is—”
“I don’t give a hang what the Indians do!”
Colin winced because she’d gone back to screeching. He deduced she was in no mood to be rational, so he decided to hold his tongue. He could teach her forest craft later, if she wanted to learn. She probably didn’t. He fiddled with the torch some more.
“It got dark,” she went on, lowering her voice again, thank God. “And I didn’t know where I was. There was no moon and there were no stars. I couldn’t see a blessed thing.”
Although he knew better, Colin nodded, understanding what had happened. “It was too early in the evening. You probably should have rested until the moon rose. It’s full tonight, so—”
“Be quiet!” She stamped her foot, and he shut up, sighing as he did so. “I was scared, Colin. I was scared to death. I don’t know what kinds of animals live in these woods—”
He opened his mouth to let her know, but shut it again when she screeched, “Don’t you dare!” He sighed again.
“I was frightened,” she went on. “And then I heard you coming. But I didn’t know it was you. How could I?”
He didn’t answer the question, prudence telling him site didn’t want to know that, either.
“I didn’t have any weapons. I didn’t have any light. I didn’t have anything. So I broke a branch and when you walked next to my tree, I hit you.” She sniffed. “Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t faint dead away from terror.”
Looking up from the torch, Colin peered at her, wondering if she were deliberately lying to him or if she’d forgotten their brief conversation prior to her trying to brain him. Also, Brenda hadn’t before now appeared to be the fainting type. Perhaps she was exaggerating to make her point. “You answered me when I spoke to you,” he pointed out. “That was before you hit me.”
“Oh, hush up!” Folding her arms over her breasts, she turned around. She stood there, rigid, for a moment, then whirled back. “I was frightened! Terrified! Scared to death! And all you can say is, ‘You answered me’! Oooh! I wish I’d knocked you out with that branch!”
He could tell she meant it, and he couldn’t fathom her reasoning. He suspected it wasn’t reasoning at all, but rather another example of her state of hysteria. Surmising that she was unable to appreciate rational conversation, he said gently, “I’m sorry you were frightened, Brenda. I understand. I was worried about you, so I came out here to try to find you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
To Colin’s horror, her bottom lip began to tremble. Good God, she wasn’t going to cry, was she? Colin had always hated it when women cried in front of him. He considered such tactics lowdown and dirty. His sisters used to cry when they couldn’t get their way in any other, more logical, manner.
Brenda’s voice shook when she said, “And then you trounce in here and call me an idiot. An idiot!” She dashed away tears. Colin felt awful. “You mean, mean, mean, mean man.”
She burst into tears, and Colin stood there feeling helpless and contemptible and miserable—feeling like, in fact, exactly what she’d called him. He held out a hand uncertainly. “Here, Brenda, don’t do that.”
“D-d-don’t do what?”
“Don’t carry on so,” he pleaded. “I understand that you’re still hysterical, but please—”
“I am not hysterical!”
He saw her eyes brimming in the moonlight. They looked like dark pools of misery to him, although he’d never harbored fanciful thoughts before. He felt rotten.
Her mouth trembled. Emotion surged within Colin’s breast. “Here,” he pleaded. “Don’t cry. Please.”
“I hate you, Colin Peters,” she stated flatly. “I hate you more than liver. More than anchovies. More than anything.”
And then she launched herself at him He staggered backwards and would have fallen flat on his back again except that he bumped up against a fir tree. His arms went around her, and he held her as she sobbed against his jacket.
For a long time—it might have been seconds or minutes; Colin didn’t know—they stayed locked in each other’s arms. Then Colin’s brain started functioning again.
Good God, Brenda had thrown herself into his arms. His arms. Not Gil Drew’s arms. His. Colin’s. His right hand began moving of its own accord, first stroking her back, then finding the soft skin of her neck. He whispered, “You’re cold, Brenda.”
It was a statement of fact, and he cursed himself for not being more eloquent. But he’d never needed eloquence before. She nodded and continued to weep pathetically.
He said, “Let me get the blanket. You can wrap it around yourself.”
This time she shook her head, although she still seemed wretched. He didn’t understand her reluctance to take advantage of the blanket, although he wasn’t going to argue with her. She was in his arms, for the love of God. Any man would be a fool to release her if she didn’t want him to.
He continued to stroke her, gently running his right hand down her arm, trying to determine if she might be suffering from shock. It seemed unlikely, given that the weather recently, while a little chilly at night, was quite spring like. Her body felt like heaven pressed against him. He wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of his life, actually, although he knew he’d tire of being vertical sooner or later.
For the first time in his life, he regretted being of such a literal turn of mind. If he had an ounce of whimsy within him, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing as his feet wearing out. As long as Brenda was in his arms, he should feel wonderful.
Yet it was true that his feet had begun to hurt. Also, he feared Brenda might have suffered more than he’d initially believed. He couldn’t account for her state of panic unless something dreadful had happened to her. Perhaps she’d thought she’d seen a bear or something. He didn’t believe she really had, but she might have been mistaken, which would be every bit as frightening as if the bear had been real.
He whispered softly, “Here, Brenda. Let’s get the blanket. We can sit down and you can warm up.” He’d be more than happy to hold her in his arms all night long, for that matter, although he didn’t say so, recalling her accusations of lousehood a few minutes earlier.
She nodded, sniffling and looking unhappy. Colin picked up the blanket from where it had fallen when she’d bashed him and shook it out vigorously. Then, after thinking the matter over for no more than five seconds, he spread the blanket under a large sycamore tree. He removed his jacket and, very gently, slipped it around her. Then he took Brenda’s hand and led her over to sit down upon the blanket. He sat next to her and drew up the blanket so that it covere
d them both.
In a voice so tender it alarmed him, he asked, “Are you comfortable?”
Again she nodded. Then she shook her head. Colin heaved a silent, internal sigh. Obviously, she was still in a state, although she no longer screeched, thank heavens.
“What can I do to make you comfortable? We don’t want you to catch cold.”
Which was a tolerably stupid thing to say. Cold weather never hurt anyone. It was germs and bacteria that made people sick. He didn’t explain, knowing she didn’t care.
“N-nothing,” she mumbled in what, to Colin, sounded like a last-gasp sort of voice.
“Are you sure?”
“Y-yes.”
With another, bigger sigh, Colin realized he was beginning to react to her closeness. There was something about Brenda that struck him on his raw side; he hadn’t even known he’d possessed one until he met her. When he’d first seen her, she’d seemed almost too perfect to be real; he’d had an easier time of it when he was still able to look upon her as an animated doll.
Then she’d begun to ask him questions about his work. Under more normal circumstances, such interest from an attractive woman would have pleased his vanity. Since he was in the unnatural setting of a motion-picture location, and Brenda was an actress and all, he’d mistrusted her motives. Not that he had, to this day, any idea in the world why he should have done so. What could her motives have been, other than a quest for knowledge? But there you go. Human beings were an odd lot; Colin knew it from long years of study. And he was as human as anyone else—if slightly more intelligent.
Unfortunately, along with his mistrust of her motives had come an understanding that, far from being some kind of perfect automaton, Brenda was entirely human. This fresh awareness had been accompanied by an insatiable lust, which was rearing its ugly head again now, as he sat under a tree in a forest with his arms around a recently hysterical Brenda.
Beauty and the Brain Page 24