by Sara Logan
"How do you figure that?" she gasped.
"As you pointed out a moment ago, we've been engaged for nearly a year, and yet, even though you say you love me, you politely show me out the door, night after night, with a nice warm kiss. Nothing but a kiss, mind you. How long is a man supposed to wait?"
"I thought until the wedding ring was on my finger," she said quietly.
"For heaven's sake, Christina, come out of the Victorian age. Things have changed, and your cold disinterest, your flair for keeping me at arm's length… well, it's abnormal, that's what it is," he shouted.
"Will you lower your voice? You'll wake Gramps."
With a visible effort he controlled himself. There was a painful silence, and then he pursued the subject. "Do you think it's normal? Nobody waits anymore."
"I do," Christina said coldly. "I'm aware that you're used to going to bed with every woman in sight. But you agreed to wait… you know you did."
"I must have been out of my mind to agree to anything so archaic. That's what's the matter with both of us, and I'm going to settle it once and for all. Come on." He grabbed her wrist. "We're going to my apartment!"
This was a James she did not know. She had no idea he had such a filthy temper. She looked at him and saw a red-faced stranger whose distorted features she barely recognized. She struggled against him, her breasts brushing his chest. This seemed to inflame him even further, for he pulled her to him and attempted to kiss her. She jerked her head away and after a moment succeeded in breaking free.
"No!" she said. "We agreed to wait, and I'm not going anywhere with you!"
"What do you mean?" he asked as he reached for her again.
"Stop it! Take your hands off me."
To her surprise he instantly complied and stormed to the other side of the room.
"I feel that I don't know you anymore, James."
He turned and glowered at her for a moment but made no effort to come near her. After a little while he seemed to get his temper back on its leash and said, "You're making too big a deal out of this, Chrissy."
"Oh, no, I'm not. I'm not willing to share you, and I don't think you're capable of being faithful to just one woman, any woman. Can't you understand, James? I'd never trust you again—and without trust, what in the world would we have?"
"Just because I went out with another girl—all right, I have been sleeping with her!—just because of that, you decide you can't trust me? We're not married yet, you know. I'd be faithful to you after we got married."
She looked at him, doubt in her blue eyes. "For a time, perhaps. Not indefinitely. No, I won't settle for that, James. I couldn't. I won't marry a man I couldn't trust. And I can't trust you, can I?"
He stared down at her for a moment, anger darkening his eyes, his sensual mouth a straight line. "You don't seem to think so, certainly. Well, I gather by this little tirade that you want to break our engagement?"
"I—yes," she said firmly. Before she could have second thoughts, Christina pulled the diamond from her finger and handed it to him. Surely it wasn't asking too much of a husband to expect him to be faithful?
Apparently it was. He jerked the ring from her outstretched hand, his face flushing a brick red. He stalked to the door, flung it open, and then directed a long, cold, angry glance at her. "You silly little prude. You know where to find me when you change your mind. I'll be waiting. But this time it will be on my terms."
He slammed the door, and Christina sagged into a chair. She covered her face with her hands and felt the hot tears start down her cheeks. It was over, the great love of her life, and she had never felt so desolate or alone.
Christina spent much of the next day trying to think things through now that she and James were no longer engaged. Her biggest worry, it seemed to her, was what or how much to tell her grandfather. He would want to talk to her again about selling the firm, and that presented a fresh problem. He had partly based his decision to sell on the prospect that Christina would be married to James and no longer available to work in the firm. Now, of course, she would not be marrying James… and would apparently soon find herself out of a job as well. Yet she had to tell Gramps. There was simply no way to conceal it from him, and so she would have to insist that this new twist of fate made no difference. Once the new owner had taken over the office, she would be free to look for a job with one of the big department or clothing stores.
Putting on a cheerful smile, she went home to dinner. From the sidelong glances she was getting from Bess during the meal, Christina came to the conclusion that Bess had certainly heard James's raised voice and his noisy departure and without doubt had decided that they had had a quarrel. But nothing on the subject was said until Christina and her grandfather were comfortably settled in the living room, quietly having their coffee.
"I'll certainly be glad when the doctor lets me go back to drinking real coffee," said Richard Lennox, frowning into his cup of decaffeinated coffee. "I hate this stuff."
"I bet it'll be sooner than you think," said Christina, trying to encourage her grandfather.
"I doubt it," he growled. "Chris, have you thought about the matter we discussed yesterday?"
She looked at her grandfather's composed face and wondered just how to break the news about James. If she appeared upset it would bother her grandfather, and she didn't want that to happen. "Yes, I have, Gramps, and I think we should sell. Something else has happened, too, which might have a bearing on it. James and I," she said carefully, "had a long talk last night, and we've broken our engagement."
Richard Lennox put his cup down with a clatter and stared at her. "Chris; why?"
"We just decided we didn't want to get married," Christina said evasively, avoiding her grandfather's faded, but still shrewd, eyes. "James isn't ready to get married, and I don't think I am, either."
"And what made you decide that, Chris? As late as yesterday morning you were adding names to the guest list for your wedding. Did you and James quarrel?"
"Well, we did, but that's not the reason. Oh, Gramps, he hasn't really changed! We've been engaged for nearly a year, and James thinks he's still a swinging single! He can't seem to realize that an engaged man isn't exactly a bachelor anymore. I don't think it would get any better if we were to marry. I've found I can't trust him, Gramps, and I can't marry a man I don't trust."
She could almost feel his sympathy, but he said only, "I'm sorry. I gather he's been running around with other girls, Chris, and I think you're right. James isn't very mature, for all that he's nearly thirty. He's not ready to settle down. I know it hurts, but I can't say I'm sorry you're not going to marry him. I was always afraid something like this would happen, and it would be a lot worse for you if you were married to him."
"I know," she said wryly, "so I told him it was over. I'll have to start canceling all the arrangements, too. But, Gramps, this shouldn't make any difference about the firm. You see, it means that once the new owner takes over the office I can see about finding a job that I was really trained for."
He looked at her intently. "The new owner might want to keep you on, Chris. How do you feel about that? Then you wouldn't need to look for another job."
Christina thought about it. "I'd rather not do that, Gramps. It wouldn't be the same, and I'd much prefer finding a job somewhere else. When you've been used to running the family's own firm, I think it would be difficult to take orders from a stranger and have to do things his way. No, I'll start working on finding a new job, and you let them know you're interested in their offer."
He agreed to that, but over the next few days he continued to watch her with concern, trying, no doubt, to judge just how much the break with James had hurt her. For her grandfather's sake, and for the sake of her own pride, Christina forced herself to be cheerful. If any tears were shed they were shed in the privacy of her bedroom, late at night. She worked hard at the office, throwing herself into catching up on all the loose ends and making sure that all the books, accounts, and files w
ere complete and tidy. By Thursday afternoon she was tired and very glad the week was almost over. She needed a break.
She fleetingly thought of the coming weekend and wondered whether or not to change her own plans and just stay at home with Gramps. The annual Scottish Highland Games and Clan Gathering at Grandfather Mountain were to be held this weekend, and she and Anne Sinclair had planned to go together. Christina could remember vividly those weekends with her parents when they saw old friends and clients, met new people, and spent the days reveling in Scottish music, dancing, and Highland athletic competition. Now she sighed. Since James owned two import shops and always had a display booth at the games, he was sure to be there, and Christina could make a good guess that Monica Norland would be with him. Was she up to encountering them both this soon?
Christina's indecision was increased by the message Maggie brought her that afternoon. "Miss Lennox, Miss Sinclair called when you were out. She said to tell you she has to go to New York for the weekend on business and can't go to the games. She'll be back Tuesday and will call you then. She says she didn't cancel her reservation since she thought you might like to take someone else with you."
Christina silently took the memo, which only reiterated what Maggie had already said, read it, and nodded. "Thanks, Maggie," she said, running a tired hand through her bright hair. "I don't know what I'll do about it yet."
Christina was really disappointed. She and Anne had gone to the games together for years, and it wouldn't seem the same at all if Anne wasn't there to add her enthusiasm to the activities.
Maggie looked at Christina's pale face with the dark smudges under her blue eyes and shook her head. "You ought to go, Miss Lennox. It would do you good to get away. You're looking tired."
"I know. I'll see, Maggie. I might find someone who wants to go with me."
For the rest of the afternoon, Christina considered who might be free to go. She knew that Sandy and Tom, together with several other couples, were going to the beach. As she gathered up her handbag and raincoat, Christina had almost decided not to go. Seeing James, who would undoubtedly be there with Monica, without Anne or Sandy to give her some moral support, was almost more than she was willing to face.
Maggie offered to lock up, so Christina went out to her car, thinking she would call the Lodge when she got home and cancel their reservations. As she approached her small car, a tall figure, which had been lounging easily against it, straightened up and stood waiting for her. Christina stopped in her tracks and stared at the man, her heart sinking. Not today!
"Good evening, Miss Lennox. Your grandfather suggested that I drop by and ride home with you. He has invited me to dinner," Alexander Stewart said, his dark gaze traveling over her surprised face. A warm gleam of humor appeared in his face at the expression that flitted across her features. "He assured me you would be delighted," he added, his voice dry.
Christina bit back the caustic denial hovering on her tongue and contented herself with a nod, moving past him to unlock the car door. She wondered briefly what had possessed her grandfather to choose tonight, of all nights, to invite this Scotsman to dinner. After the exasperating and exhausting week she had just endured, she was not in the mood to be a gracious hostess.
She unlocked the car on the other side and smothered a giggle as she watched the tall man trying to fold himself into her small car. He sensed her amusement as, with difficulty, he seated himself, but when he turned to look at her she quickly looked away and busied herself with starting the engine and negotiating the vehicle into the late-afternoon traffic.
"This is a very lovely city," he commented after a while, as they drove through the tree-lined streets into the older residential section. "These trees look quite old," he added.
Christina glanced up at the gnarled and spreading branches that nearly met high above the street and admitted that they were. It was difficult to make polite conversation with him, move the car through the rush-hour traffic, and ignore, all the while, the peculiar effect his presence was having on her. She was terribly conscious of the nearness of that tall, strong form and wondered at her instant dislike and wariness of this man. He had really done very little to warrant such a feeling on her part, but, still, it was there.
She saw the tall white house beckoning through the trees ahead and sighed with relief. Alex's curious gaze took in the serene street, shaded by the spreading trees, the smooth stretches of green lawn, the air of timeless-ness the picture presented. Most of the houses were old, rising two or three stories, with elegant facades and immaculate borders, shrubs, and lawns, showing clearly that they were built for a more leisured, gracious time. The Lennox house was of the same era and had about it a feeling of welcoming warmth. A curving driveway swept across the smooth lawn, passed the front of the house, and curved back to the street. The house, nearly a hundred years old, was three-storied, of shining white-painted brick, and beautifully maintained. Graceful white columns rose to the sheltering roof of the front porch, and the house was framed by late-blooming white Kousa dogwood trees, bursting with delicate bloom.
Christina parked the car on the circular sweep of the paved driveway and led the way up the stone steps to the porch. After the summer heat outside, the cool, shady foyer came as a welcome relief. The mellow tones of the grandfather clock at the foot of the stairs chimed six o'clock as Bess bustled forward, taking Christina's raincoat from her and urging them toward the living room.
"Alex! How good to see you," Richard Lennox said from the depths of his chair. "Forgive me for not rising. Margery," he continued, turning slightly to include the woman at his side, "this is Alexander Stewart, from Scotland… my friend, Margery Lyons."
Margery Lyons rose from her rocking chair and shook hands. "I'm glad to see you," she said with a smile. "Such a handsome young man. How are you, Chris?"
"Just fine. A little warm, though."
"Go ahead and change into something comfortable," said Margery. "Come and sit down, Mr. Stewart. Richard and I were about to have a glass of sherry. Would you join us?"
Christina heard the deep murmur of Alex's voice as he said a glass of sherry would be just the thing. She edged her way toward the door, bent on escape.
"Chris?"
"Gramps, I have to change. If you'll both excuse me for a few minutes…" Christina fled toward the kitchen. "Bess, I didn't know Gramps had invited him to dinner! Why didn't someone mention it to me?"
Bess looked up from the big bowl of freshly made chicken salad she was garnishing and grinned. "He called your, grandfather when he got into town this afternoon, and Mr. Richard invited him to dinner then. There was no chance for anyone to tell you, Miss Chris."
For a minute Christina was tempted to ask if all the telephone wires were down. After all, one of them could have called her at work.
"They want drinks, Bess, and I'm going to go up and change."
"Just you hurry up, honey. Your grandfather doesn't like to be kept waiting for his dinner."
"I know. May I have a glass of that iced tea to take up with me? It's so hot outside."
Bess poured a tall, frosty glass of tea and handed it to her. "Don't be too long," she cautioned again.
In her room, Christina remembered the tailored slacks and sport shirt that their guest was wearing. She slipped off her linen dress and considered for a moment, then pulled a thin blue and white sun dress from her closet. It was too hot for slacks, and her grandfather would not hesitate to voice his disapproval if she came to the dinner table in a pair of shorts. So a sun dress should serve as a nice compromise. She took a quick, cool shower, slipped on the dress, and redid her face and hair. The blue and white cotton dress set off the honey tan of her shoulders and arms, brought out the blue of her eyes, and made her blond hair look even lighter. The fitted bodice, with straight-cut top and thin straps that tied on the shoulders, showed off her rounded breasts and trim waist. The slim skirt was slit on both sides to just above the knee and made her feel taller than her five feet four
inches. Sliding into a pair of white sandals with medium heels, Christina felt more able to cope with the disturbing man waiting downstairs.
They were discussing the upcoming Highland Games at Grandfather Mountain when Christina entered the living room. Her grandfather broke off what he was saying to smile warmly at her.
"Here she is. Chris, do you want a drink before dinner?"
She held up the glass of tea and shook her head. "This is fine, Gramps."
"I was just telling Alex about the games this weekend. He's heard of them but hasn't ever attended them. Aren't you and Anne leaving after lunch tomorrow?"
Christina, avoiding that pair of dark eyes surveying her intently, sat down on the wide couch. "Anne can't go," she said reluctantly. "She called this afternoon and told Maggie she has to go to New York on business and won't be back until Tuesday."
"Are you going, Margery?" asked Richard.
The white-haired woman smiled. "No, dear," she answered comfortably. "Tom and Ellen will be here for the weekend. I promised to look after the boys for them while they run up for the day. Tom," she explained, turning to include Alex in the conversation, "is my son, and he's so busy that I don't get to see him or his family nearly as often as I'd like. He's a doctor."
"I hope that boy finds time to come to see me," Richard said. Then he turned to Alex. "If you're really interested in going, Alex," he said, "perhaps you could go with Chris. Unless she's found someone else to go with her… ?" His blue eyes rested inquiringly on her.
"Well, not yet, Gramps, but…"
"Excellent! I know you want to go, but it's no fun going alone. Alex, what do you say about going up with Chris? She's going tomorrow and even has an extra reservation at the Lodge. It's nearly impossible to get rooms now within fifty miles of the mountain, so that's very lucky for you."
"If Miss Lennox would like company on the drive…" Alex began, not looking very enthusiastic, Christina thought.
"She would, I'm sure. Chris?"