Forbidden Affair

by Patti Beckman

  "It was a real jungle in those days," Jacquelyn replied, remembering vividly those carefree days long since gone.

  Natalie sighed. "Too bad we can't always stay children." She turned to Jacquelyn abruptly. "Life was so much simpler. We loved each other then, didn't we, Jacquelyn?"

  "Of course," Jacquelyn replied, trying to recall the close, intense feelings she had once held for Natalie. "We were just like sisters, Natalie. I still love you," she confessed, searching her feelings and finding the old affection still lingered on, in spite of the circumstances.

  Natalie broke off the honeysuckle blossom and rubbed it between her fingers. She was gazing at Jacquelyn steadily, her eyes filling with dark shadows. "But you've come back to take Scott away from me," she said softly.

  "Oh, Natalie," Jacquelyn said impatiently. "How can you think such a thing? You know what was between Scott and me is over… forever."

  The finality of her words brought a strange, hurting pang, but she knew it was true.

  She wondered how much Natalie knew about the reasons for the chasm between her and Scott? Certainly Natalie knew about the fight Jacquelyn and Scott had had over her desire to work for a year before settling down to marriage. But did Natalie know any of the details of Scott's running Gerrard out of business?

  On the one hand, Natalie and Gerrard had been so close, it would be hard to believe Gerrard had left without telling Natalie the details of what Scott had done to his business career. But on the other hand, how could Natalie have turned to Scott after Gerrard left? Surely the dark-haired girl must still be nursing a broken heart over the sad ending of her dreams of marrying Gerrard. She would have been as bitter toward Scott as Jacquelyn was if she knew the truth about him: that he had ruthlessly destroyed Gerrard's business career.

  Jacquelyn remembered her conversation with her brother just before he left. He had not indicated that he'd told Natalie anything about the details of his business failure. Probably, his pride wouldn't let him.

  But how could she tell Natalie the truth about Scott now? Her childhood friend would suspect her motives, thinking she was making up the story out of jealousy. No, that part would remain a secret in her heart. Natalie would just have to find out about Scott for herself.

  "I'm not sure it is entirely over between you and Scott," Natalie persisted. "If a woman once loves a man—really loves him, I mean—is it ever over?"

  "It certainly is between Scott and me," Jacquelyn insisted grimly.

  Natalie's dark eyes measured Jacquelyn, not believing her. "I loved your brother, Gerrard, since we were children," she murmured, "and I lost him. At first I hated him for leaving me that way. After a while, I just didn't care any more. But I'm not sure what would happen if I ever came face to face with him again."

  An unexpected rush of tears blurred Jacquelyn's eyes. The rivalry between them was momentarily forgotten as her heart went out to her lifelong friend. "Natalie, I'm so sorry that things didn't work out between you and Gerrard—"

  Natalie shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I told you I got over him some time ago."

  "Do you ever hear from him?"

  "No… do—do you?"

  Jacquelyn wondered how truthful Natalie was being with herself. Did she still have a vulnerable spot buried in her heart where Gerrard was concerned, just as Jacquelyn could still feel her emotions storm when she was around Scott?

  For a moment, the heartbreak they had both experienced drew her closer to the dark-haired girl. She experienced a moment of the love and understanding they had once shared.

  But then Natalie closed the door between them with a challenging flash of her black eyes. "I just want you to know," she said, "that I've buried whatever I felt for Gerrard. Scott is the man in my life, now. I was in love with Gerrard as a child. I'm in love with Scott as a woman."

  What did she mean by that? Jacquelyn wondered with an unexpected return of a jealous sting. She was implying an intimacy between her and Scott. How far had the intimacy gone? Jacquelyn shied away from pursuing that line of thought.

  "I love Scott as a woman," Natalie repeated, an intense fire growing brighter in her luminous dark eyes. "And I mean to fight like a woman to keep him."

  "I told you," Jacquelyn insisted, "I certainly have no designs on Scott McCrann. I want nothing more to do with him." She turned, wanting to leave.

  But Natalie moved closer. Her hand closed painfully tight around Jacquelyn's wrist. Her eyes gazed straight into Jacquelyn's, the shadows in them deepening. "You always had the good things, Jackie. You lived in Cypress Halls and went away to college and had a glamorous career in New Orleans while Austin and I grew up in Aunt Perforce's little frame house in LaMere. But I'll never let you have Scott, Jackie. Remember that…"

  Natalie turned abruptly and disappeared down the graveled path, going back in the direction of the party, leaving Jacquelyn shaken by the intensity of her words. She glanced around at the thick hedges, the dark hiding places where they had played as children. That seemed a very long time ago, now.

  It was near sundown when Uncle Luther got Natalie off in the house for a discussion and most of the guests had left. Jacquelyn sat in a lawn chair, staring off at the pink sunset smeared in light, puffy layers across the far horizon.

  Suddenly, Scott appeared behind Jacquelyn. He held a drink in his hand. Even before she saw him, she felt his presence and stiffened. He stepped in front of her, his blue eyes brooding and dark. He looked down at her for a long minute. Her breath stopped. Her heart picked up tempo. Then he walked away from her, as if signaling her to follow him. He stopped by a far hedge, his eyes issuing a challenge to her.

  Could she risk talking to him alone in the seclusion of the garden, conscious of the storm of emotions such an encounter would create? But hadn't she assured Natalie that she no longer had any interest in Scott? That was true, wasn't it? What they'd once had was damaged beyond repair. So what harm was there in talking to the man? If they were going to be working together on the restoration of the mansion, she'd have to force herself to be civil to him.

  Besides, the gleam in Scott's eye was a dare, and Jacquelyn was not about to let him know how truly hurt she felt over what had happened between them. She would never again give Scott the powerful weapon of the knowledge of how deep her love for him had been. It was much too easy to use that kind of weapon against her.

  She stood up, her knees shaking. She walked over to Scott, forcing herself to smile. "Had enough roque for today?" she asked.

  "Yes," he said a bit harshly. "The way your Uncle Luther and I play it, it finally turns into a duel. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."

  What did he mean by that, Jacquelyn wondered. She sensed he was talking about more than just the roque game.

  "I don't like duels either," she said a bit sharply, wondering if he caught the full intent of her words.

  "Even when you initiate them?" he asked pointedly.

  So, she mused bitterly, he still held her responsible for their breakup. He obviously was not a man who forgot easily when his pride had been wounded. Would he seek even more revenge? she wondered with a sudden chill.

  She chose the safe route of brushing his remark aside, pretending to miss his point. "Uncle Luther told me about your deal," Jacquelyn said, abruptly changing the subject. As she did so, she looked Scott full in the face. The light of the fading sun cast a tantalizing pattern of shadows on his face, making his deep blue eyes appear to smolder with intensity. It was the look he had used on her so many times in the past, the expression that had always melted her heart, flooding her with overwhelming love… until her eyes had been opened to his true nature and love had died.

  But this time, that look on Scott's face was not of his own doing. It was the result of tricks played on his face by the rays of the setting sun. She reminded herself that they were no longer the same couple who had once been so much in love. Rather, they were two adversaries, and she must not read any of her own interpretations into Scott's behavior.
She had to remember what kind of man he really was.

  "And have you decided to restore Cypress Halls?" Scott asked.

  "Yes," she said, answering his challenge with a steely resolve. "Why wouldn't I?" Her eyes blazed, daring him to tell her she couldn't take on the job.

  For a long moment, Scott didn't answer, as if measuring his reply. Then he said, "I had wondered if you were willing to give up your freedom in New Orleans to come back here for an extended period."

  His words puzzled her. "Are you saying you had something to do with Uncle Luther's wanting me to do the restoration?"

  "Certainly not. As a matter of fact, I was against the idea from the start. But your uncle can be a stubborn man, and your accident provided him with the golden opportunity to persuade you to stay and take on the job."

  Sudden anger flared in her. "You sound as if you don't think I'm qualified to take on this assignment."

  "Only you know the answer to that," he said coolly.

  "I certainly do, and let me assure you that I know perfectly well what I am doing!"

  "If you did, I doubt that you would have come back."

  Something in his tone unnerved her. Did his words carry some kind of threat? Or was her imagination becoming distorted by her tense emotions?

  She clasped her hands, which had suddenly become icy, and spoke in measured tones to cover her inner turmoil. "I have as much right to be here as you. In fact, more right. I grew up here. My family has lived here for generations. You are the outsider who moved here."

  His lips twisted in a sardonic smile as his eyes burned into her with a gaze that made her feel as if she were shriveling inside. "You seemed to welcome my moving here… until you got a taste of the outside world and decided your independence was more important."

  "I have no desire to bring up the past," Jacquelyn said icily. "As far as I'm concerned, it's buried forever. I'd prefer to keep it that way."

  "Do you think we can really bury the past?" he asked in a threatening tone. "Do you know how closely we're going to have to work together, you and I?" He reached out and took her by the arm.

  For a moment, Jacquelyn was stunned. She couldn't understand why Scott was behaving like this. Then the realization hit her. Of course. He wanted to run her off. He didn't want her to restore the mansion. He felt the same deep bitterness toward her that she felt for him, and he hoped to intimidate her so badly that she'd change her mind and leave. It was going to be just as painful for him to work with her as it was going to be for her to work with him.

  So much the better, she thought, chuckling to herself at the irony of the situation. Scott had made her miserable by his revenge on Gerrard. Now, she had an opportunity to make him miserable in return. But there was a big difference. She was not motivated by revenge. She was here only because of her warm love for Uncle Luther. She was willing to put up with almost anything to help Uncle Luther realize his lifelong dream, even if it meant being exposed to Scott McCrann.

  "I'm staying!" she said obstinately.

  Jacquelyn stood with her chin held high in a gesture of defiance.

  Suddenly, Scott's arms encircled her. He pulled her to him. His strong embrace squeezed the breath out of her. He gave her a menacing look, and then his mouth came down on hers. It was a hard kiss, full of anger and resentment. It was a kiss that spoke of unrelieved frustration.

  For a moment, Jacquelyn gloried in the pain she knew Scott had suffered because of her rejection of him. A man like that, who was ruthless and would stop at nothing to punish those who defied him, deserved the torment.

  But then Scott's mouth turned softer, more insistent and demanding, and she recognized the kiss of passion. She tried to pull back her head. She struggled in his arms to free herself, but his hold on her was relentless.

  Before she knew what was happening to her, she found herself wanting to return his kiss. A smoldering desire that had never been entirely squelched began to flame again. His lips demanded a response, and for an insane moment, she wanted to blindly forget her hatred of Scott, cancel out the past and respond with abandon.

  Just then, a branch broke underfoot. The cracking noise caused Scott to release his hold on Jacquelyn. They both turned instinctively in the direction of the sound.

  Natalie stood staring at them, her black eyes wide with shock. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but before the girl could say anything, Jacquelyn bolted past her and ran for the mansion, her throat tight with suffocated sobs.

  She stumbled through the open doorway and saw the staircase through a blur of tears. She scurried upstairs and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Her lips burned with the pain of Scott's kiss. And her heart ached with the memory of forgotten passion. How could she have let herself succumb to Scott's embrace, to his physical attraction? She knew what kind of man he was underneath that lanky, appealing frame. His heart was carved from stone. His ego was colossal. All he cared about was himself and his own desires. His kiss had not been intended to reawaken in her the flame of love that had once burned deeply within her. It had been an act of revenge, stirring her baser longings into a turmoil to make her want him physically, to torment and confuse her. And she had fallen into his trap, momentarily forgetting all the misery he had caused her, turning herself over to the longing she felt as he held her in his arms. What a fool she had been! How could she ever face Scott again?

  Almost as bad was the prospect of trying to explain to Natalie what had happened. It was less than two hours ago that Jacquelyn had assured the girl that she had no designs on Scott. How could she possibly explain why Natalie had found the two of them kissing?

  Had Jacquelyn secretly wanted Scott to kiss her? No! She refused to believe that she could still feel anything but hate for such a ruthless man. Yet she had accepted the challenge of talking to him alone, and that would be very difficult to explain away to Natalie.

  The old jealousy was bound to surface, and neither of them would be objective about the incident. Oh, what a mess this whole situation had become!

  Jacquelyn jerked her suitcase out of the closet and frantically began tossing her clothes inside, leaving a trail of dropped garments tangled on the edge of the bed. When she found her suitcase would not close over the knot of fabric, she sobbed with frustration.

  What had ever possessed her to return to Cypress Halls? Why had Uncle Luther not told her from the first about his deal with Scott? Why had she harbored, even for a moment, any tender feelings for Scott?

  All she had were questions. No answers.

  The situation was intolerable. In spite of what she had told Uncle Luther, there was no way she could endure being around Scott. She was leaving tomorrow for New Orleans, never to see Scott McCrann again!

  Chapter Four

  Jacquelyn stared morosely at the breakfast plate Hattie placed before her, but nothing was registering in her brain except her decision to leave Cypress Halls and the shadow of Scott McCrann.

  Glancing at Uncle Luther, who was seated across the table from her, she became aware of a twinkle in his faded blue eyes.

  She heard him say, "To think of a Cordoway having a hand in the actual restoration of Cypress Halls. It's more than I'd hoped for. Your accident turned out to be a blessing in disguise, Jacquelyn. Not that I wouldn't give anything to have spared you that awful ordeal."

  Please, Uncle Luther, don't make it harder for me to break the news to you that I'm not going to stay after all, she thought dismally.

  Uncle Luther put his fork down and gave Jacquelyn a sharp look over the top rim of his half-moon reading glasses.

  "Is something troubling you, Jacquelyn?" he demanded in his deep baritone. "Out with it." It was not the command of a nosy third party, but rather the expectation that whatever was bothering her was a rightful concern of his. She was under his roof now, and as the lord of the manor, he took charge of all problems and settled matters promptly to his own satisfaction. It was a pleasure afforded him by his position in Cypress Halls
and it was a post he guarded jealously. The world outside the confines of the mansion was out of his hands. Uncle Luther had often waxed eloquent about the evils of the modern age. He had grave doubts that the outside world was fit to live in. But here in his own environment he maintained the old standards of decency that he revered. He was King Arthur and Cypress Halls was his Camelot, where justice reigned supreme.

  "I don't know how to tell you, exactly, Uncle Luther…" Jacquelyn began, swallowing a bitter lump in her throat.

  "It's Scott McCrann, isn't it?" Uncle Luther interrupted, his pointed question hitting its mark dead center. "I thought it was all over between you two. But at the party last night, I sensed the tension. You still care for him, don't you?"

  "Of course not!" Jacquelyn retorted a little too quickly. "I got him out of my system long ago," she fibbed. "But he—he wants to have a say-so in every selection, give final approval. I thought I'd have a free hand. I just don't know if I can work under these conditions."

  How could she tell Uncle Luther how disconcerted she was at the storm of warring emotions Scott could still cause in her? How could she reveal that Scott was out to exact even more revenge on her, that he had kissed her last night to show he could still call forth in her the old physical longing she had once felt for him?

  "Are you telling me you've changed your mind, that you're not going to stay after all?" Uncle Luther asked with a note of dismay.

  Concern wrenched Jacquelyn's heart at the sudden pallor on the old man's cheeks, the expression of pain in his eyes.

  "I didn't say that," she hedged, wondering why her courage was deserting her.

  She had lain awake half the night rehearsing a speech to Uncle Luther explaining why she must disappoint him and return to New Orleans. But in the reality of morning light, her resolve was weakening. How could she break this dear old man's heart? He had done so much for her and her brother, Gerrard.

  "Then what are you saying?" Uncle Luther asked softly, taking her hand in his large ones and patting it gently.