by Sara Logan
Christina realized that she had been neatly boxed into a corner and, short of admitting that she had decided not to go, which would sound very impolite and suspicious now, there was nothing she could do but agree to take this wretched man with her. "Yes, that would be very nice," she murmured.
A brief smile flickered about Alex's lips, but if he realized that she was less than overjoyed at being saddled with him for the weekend, he gave no sign. "I would certainly like to go if Miss Lennox is sure that it won't inconvenience her."
"Call her Chris," said Christina's grandfather. "And of course she doesn't mind, do you, honey?"
Christina was saved from saying more untrue but polite things by the arrival of Bess. "Dinner is ready on the porch, Mr. Richard."
Nothing more was said about the games during dinner, and Christina relaxed in the cushioned wicker chair and enjoyed the cold, crisp chicken salad, the fresh peas from the garden, and, particularly, Bess's homemade rolls. Alex, too, seemed to do justice to the meal, taking seconds of everything and complimenting Bess on the fresh blackberry cobbler topped with a scoop of smooth hard sauce.
"They're the first blackberries of the season. My nephew picks them on his farm," explained the pleased and flattered Bess.
Christina poured coffee for herself and Alex as they sat relaxed and replete on the cool, screened-in porch. The air was scented with roses from the garden, and Christina felt that if she didn't move soon she would go to sleep in her chair. Richard Lennox was telling Alex about his roses, the pride of his garden, and now turned to Christina.
"Chris, do you mind showing Alex my rose garden? He's listened to me bragging about it long enough." Then he turned to the older woman. "What do you say, Margery? How about having our cribbage game out here on the porch?"
Margery, standing beside his chair, put a small hand on Richard's arm and laughed her delightful, youthful laugh. "I don't care where I beat you, Richard."
"We'll see about that," Richard said. "The other night was sheer luck."
"If you say so," she said as she moved to the round glass table and took the chair Alex held for her. She seated herself gracefully and smoothed her pink dress.
Then she put on small, frameless glasses and looked up at Richard expectantly. After a moment she turned to Christina. "You two go on and look at the roses before it gets dark."
Christina rose obediently and led Alex down the steps into the backyard. As they crossed the lawn the scent of roses grew heavier, mixed now with the unearthly fragrance of tall white lilies, moon flowers just beginning to bloom, and flowering almond. The dying sunlight was screened from the yard by the spreading trees, and they walked past beds of colorful annuals and a hedge of wide, rounded butterfly bushes which stood out in colorful contrast against their background of dark green azalea bushes.
"The azaleas are about through, but nearly everything else is coming into full bloom," Christina commented, taking Alex around the hedge of pink and lavender blossoms to the neat rose garden. "Gramps's roses," she pointed out as she waved a hand at the beautifully maintained beds.
"Does he still take care of them himself?" Alex asked, walking down the length of a bed, admiring the full bushes, covered with clusters of large, fragrant blooms.
"He did until this year. Bess and I persuaded him to let us do the heavy work, like planting and cultivating, while he supervised."
"Your grandfather's not very well, is he?" Alex said.
Christina shook her head. "No. The heart attack was bad, but it's this shortness of breath that has me worried."
"Has he seen the doctor?"
"He has, but he hasn't been for several weeks now. I try not to nag him about it."
Alex looked at her pale, concerned face and then turned to walk around the enclosed garden.
Christina sat down on the stone bench and watched him. Was he really interested in roses or just being polite about an old man's enthusiasm? she wondered. He came back after a while and sat down beside her. "They are really lovely," he said. "The blooms are so large. My mother would love them; she also grows roses."
Christina was surprised and she couldn't explain to herself why. It was just that she hadn't thought about his possible family. She wondered if his mother was as formidable as he was. She couldn't imagine Alexander Stewart as a vulnerable little child, running to his mother for comfort. The thought of him as a small boy made her feel tender toward him, but that thought was quickly dispelled by the sight of the man beside her. Even now, sitting quietly on the bench, she could feel the repressed energy and attraction of the man.
"Tell me about Margery," he suggested. "Are she and your grandfather old friends?"
"She was a bridge partner of Grandmother's," explained Christina. "She's only been widowed a year or so. She looked after an invalid husband for a long time. Isn't she lovely? You would never guess that she's sixty-five years old. She looks and acts about forty. I thought she and Grandfather might make a match of it, at one point. They see a lot of each other, but apparently they're content with the way things are. And, too, there's his health to think about."
"I see," said Alex. Then he changed the subject. "You didn't sound very enthusiastic about going to the games," he murmured. His gaze roved over her as he spoke.
"Neither did you," Christina retorted smartly. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"I do want to go, Chris, but I felt as if your grandfather were rather cramming me down your throat. If you'd prefer to go alone, I can find another way to get there."
"It was only that I wasn't sure whether I was going at all," she said, with something less than the truth. She was embarrassed by his frankness and by the feeling that she was not being very polite to a stranger.
One dark brow shot up in surprise. "Yet your grandfather told me you went every year and wouldn't think of missing it. Why is this year different?"
Since she didn't feel it prudent to tell this determined Scot that it was none of his business, Christina groped for a reason. "I-it's been a trying week and, with Anne not going, I had just about decided to stay at home."
Alex didn't look particularly convinced by that explanation, and Christina wasn't surprised. It sounded a bit lame to her, too.
But to her surprise he let it go and, instead of saying any more about it, sat down next to her and picked up her left hand, which was resting lightly on her knee. "Wasn't there a diamond ring on this hand last time we met?"
"You're very observant, Mr. Stewart," she snapped as she snatched her hand away.
"Even if I weren't observant, you very clearly explained to me that you were engaged on our… let me see… second encounter."
Christina blushed at the reminder of that ridiculous moment when she had jumped onto his lap in the taxi. Alex appeared not to notice and continued. "As I recall, your only objection to my kissing you was the fact that you were engaged. So, with that obstacle out of the way…" he said smoothly, taking her in his arms as he spoke. Before Christina could move or protest in any way, he had grasped her chin in a firm hand and turned her face up to his. Then his warm lips descended and he claimed hers in a kiss that left her breathless and with no will to resist. He forced her mouth open and explored its sweetness, and Christina found herself responding to him as she had to no other man. She put her arms around him and held him close and felt his hand caress her back with a touch that sent tremors of feeling through her being. Then, abruptly, he released her, almost as though he had had what he wanted and once that was accomplished had lost interest in her. She felt her temper flare.
"I don't know why you think you can grab me and kiss me any time you feel like it."
"Grab you?" he asked coolly. "I don't recall that I grabbed you. It seemed to me that you were inviting it."
"I was not! How dare you?" she said as she jumped to her feet.
"Oh, sit down," he ordered, taking her hand and pulling her down beside him. "Let's go back to the subject of your engagement." He leaned back against the
bench and kept his gaze on her angry face. "I know what you're thinking," he continued. "You're wishing you could tell me it's none of my affair, but I am curious. You've broken this engagement?"
His question was voiced in a tone of genuine, sympathetic interest, and before she could stop herself Christina nodded. Once she did that he seemed to assume that she was willing to talk about it, and she could think of no way to avoid the subject.
"If I remember correctly, your grandfather mentioned to me earlier in the week, when he suggested I take you to dinner, that you might have a date with your fiancé. He said he was a client of Lennox's and owns an import shop?"
"He owns two import shops and he is a client, yes."
"He'll be at the games?"
She swung around and stared at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"
His mouth curved into a sardonic smile. "It wasn't very difficult to figure out, Chris. You break your engagement with a client, you don't want to go to the games… it's only reasonable to assume that he'll be there and you don't want to see him. Is that it?"
"That's about it," she admitted reluctantly.
"I gather you decided that you didn't want to get married after all," he said coolly, and something cynical in his dark gaze was like a lit match to her temper.
"That's right! I don't want to get married. Not to James, anyway."
His mouth twisted wryly. "An old, familiar tale, I must admit. Who's the other man?"
This time when Christina shot to her feet she carefully moved outside his reach. Then, turning, she faced him. "Mr. Stewart, you are a guest in my house and a friend of my grandfather's, but that does not give you the right to ask personal questions! There is no other man, and why we broke our engagement is none of your business!" There, she had said it, and he could like it or not. "I'm willing to take you with me to Grandfather Mountain," she continued, "because my grandfather asked me to, but my personal affairs are not your concern."
He had risen, too. His dark eyes glinted with a curious mixture of admiration and amused contempt. "No, they aren't my business. You're certainly free to play fast and loose with any young man you choose, I will admit that. I was just curious since I've heard so much about you from your grandfather."
"I did not play fast and loose with James!" she said angrily. "If there was any of that going on, it wasn't me doing it! Now, if you don't mind, it's been a hard day and I still have to pack. I'll run you back to your hotel and pick you up after lunch tomorrow."
Before he could say anything, she had stalked out of the garden and was moving rapidly across the lawn toward the steps leading to the screened-in porch. Alex followed, but he must have realized that there would be no chance to say anything more to her now, since he could see Margery and her grandfather on the porch.
"I told you it wasn't accident or luck, Richard," Margery was saying. "It was skill."
"I demand a return match soon," retorted Richard Lennox.
"As soon as Tom goes home I'll call you; I promise," Margery said.
Alex went up the stairs, complimented Richard on his roses, and began to make his goodbyes.
"Chris will take you back to the hotel," Richard assured him, looking at Christina for confirmation.
"Thanks," said Alex quickly, "but I'll just take a taxi back. Chris still has to pack and be in the office early in the morning, and I have a few things to do myself. She needs the extra rest if she's going to drive tomorrow."
"Where are you staying, Mr. Stewart?" asked Margery Lyons quickly. When Alex named the hotel, she continued, "I'll be glad to drive you. I have to go across town anyway and it's no trouble at all. In fact, I'll be glad of your company," she said with a smile.
"Very well. That's very kind of you," said Alex.
Christina watched with mixed feelings as they went out to Margery's car. She was ashamed of her outburst in the garden but hoped she had made it clear to him that she would not tolerate such personal comments. He could wonder and speculate all he pleased, but he had no right to say such things to her. As for being drawn into his arms and kissed, she was not sure how she felt about that. She could still feel the passion, the pent-up strength of his mouth, and her own lips tingled in remembered response. She tried to decide why she had not resisted him… pulled away… slapped his face. But she had done none of those things.
As she went upstairs to pack she found herself wondering at his cynicism. He had immediately, and without being advised of the facts, assumed that she had jilted James, that she had played fast and loose with him and had then broken the engagement. From those rather revealing comments in the garden, Christina decided that Alex didn't have a very exalted opinion of women. He'd sounded sour and bitter, immediately blaming her for the broken engagement. She wondered what woman had instilled such distrust in him. Well, she assured herself, it was fine with her if Alex felt that way about women, because from the treatment she had received from two of them in the last few days, she wasn't very fond of men.
Chapter Three
The atmosphere inside her grandfather's Buick was decidedly cool, if not downright chilly, as Christina threaded her way through the city traffic after lunch. It was nearly an hour before they left the sprawling city behind and headed for the mountains. Christina, still angry over Alex's comments and assumptions of the night before, switched on the car radio to ease the strained silence and to prevent him from attempting to make small talk. She was also growing more and more apprehensive about the coming weekend. Dinner tonight at the Lodge would be difficult enough, but tomorrow and Sunday they would definitely see James and Monica, and that would make an awkward situation even more tense.
She was aware that Alex occasionally turned his gaze from the passing countryside to study her, but she ignored him and kept her attention firmly on the road. The warm July day stayed sunny and clear, and as the winding road climbed higher into the Blue Ridge Mountains, whose purplish crests were clearly visible now, Christina grew more tense.
Alex suddenly reached out and turned off the radio and addressed her. "You're very quiet."
Christina tried to think of a polite reason to offer, failed, and just shrugged. "Would you mind turning the radio back on?"
"In a minute. I have something I want to say to you."
She could think of nothing to say to that, and after a moment he continued, not at all put out by her silence. "I owe you an apology, Chris. After I returned to the hotel last night, I decided that you were angry either because I stated the truth—rather badly, I admit—or because I had genuinely misjudged you."
"But at the time you didn't think you had!" she flashed, her temper rising again.
"I wasn't sure," he admitted quietly. "But I felt I owed you an apology if I was wrong. It seems that I was wrong, so I do sincerely apologize. I shouldn't have jumped so quickly to such a conclusion about you."
"What made you decide you were wrong?" Christina didn't think he liked being wrong and wondered what, in such a short time, had forced him to the conclusion that, for once, he had been at fault.
"I asked your grandfather," he said simply.
"You did what?"
"Watch that car, Chris! He's going to pass."
"I am watching! Stop trying to change the subject. You asked my grandfather? When?"
"This morning, by telephone. I wanted to know what had happened, and I knew you wouldn't tell me. So I asked him and he explained."
She turned an outraged face toward him. "How dare you do that! You had no business—"
"Yes, I think I did. If James MacDonald is going to be at the games this weekend, and we'll be seeing him often, I think it best that I be aware of the circumstances and be prepared to deal with them."
"What circumstances? James and I are no longer engaged. When we run into them, as we're sure to do, it might be a little strained, but I don't see—"
"Them?" he questioned swiftly. "Ah, you think he'll have the girl with him, do you? Who is she?"
"Monica Norland. You
and Gramps did have quite a conversation, didn't you?"
"I suppose you're angry again, but he told me that James was running around with another woman, that you found out and then broke the engagement. Is that essentially correct?"
"That is quite correct."
"And it's not the first time, I gather, that he's done something like this? Makes a habit of it, in fact."
"I can't see that what he does is your concern! And yes, I am angry! I told you last night that my private affairs are none of your business, but you evidently didn't listen very well. At the first opportunity you call my grandfather and find out all you can about me!"
"And if your precious James wants to stage a reconciliation, just how are you going to explain me?" Alex demanded, not angry at her fresh outburst but amused.
"I don't intend to 'explain' you! I'll just introduce you as a friend of Gramps and…"
"And you think James will buy that?"
"It's none of his business, either!" she said hotly, and then, in a somewhat milder tone, she asked, "Besides, why shouldn't he?"
Alex burst out laughing. "Chris, cool off! You're very pretty, you know, when your eyes flash, but do watch where you're driving; we don't want to end up in the ditch. Look here, as the situation stands, it will be awkward, at the very least. And if your former fiancé decides to take objection to my being there with you, I want to know what you intend to do about it."
"What I do, or you do, is no longer any of James's business. If he takes exception to your being there, that's just too bad. I don't intend to do anything but avoid him as much as possible."
"Unless you patch up your differences," Alex murmured.
"That won't happen. I wouldn't have James back at any price, and I doubt if he'd want to come back. I can't trust him, and I'm not willing to marry a man and spend the rest of my life wondering what woman he's out with at night. No, as far as James and I are concerned, it's over."
"Do you think he realizes that?"
"He should! I was final enough when I gave him back his ring." After a short pause she asked, "Why? Don't you think he does?"