Caprice (10 page)

him, cheek pressed against his shoulder. The others saw his head

bend until his cheek rested on her wet hair.

Coming out of the water was hard, for her legs felt ridiculously weak,

and her body felt heavier in comparison to the buoyancy from

swimming. They went slow and easy, her thigh muscles quivering,

and when they had reached his lounge chair, he pushed her

unresistingly into it, and then draped a large beach towel over her

shoulders. She shivered as though she had a high fever, and he came

down beside her to take her into his arms.

From time to time, the now subdued group in the water glanced their

way but could only guess at the tew conversation being held, her

head ducked low, Pierce's head quite near. Jeffrey was the target of

many accusing glances and looked more miserable than Roxanne had

ever seen him.

At the lounge chair, after a long silence when warmth finally began

to creep back into her chilled limbs, Caprice said, soft and bitter, 'I

feel like a fool.'

His hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing gently at the tense

muscles. 'I don't think I've ever seen such terror as I saw on your face

when you broke the surface. You can't dictate to emotions or fears.'

She turned her head away. Pierce touched at her braid, then moved

his hand to slide it up and down her shoulder bracingly. His bare

thigh was pressed hard on hers, and his greater body heat seared her

skin. She wished she Could get closer to him and that marvellous

warmth.

'I couldn't think,' she whispered. 'I couldn't breathe.'

His voice was gentle. 'How long have you been that way?'

'All my life, isn't it stupid? I've tried to overcome it, even tried to

jump off a diving board once. I got out to the end of it, and couldn't

move. My brother had to pull me off again. It's dumb and irrational.'

She rocked forward, and put her head on her knee. 'It takes over my

mind, and I just—freeze.'

She turned her face to one side, and while he continued to stroke at

her back, she began to feel relaxed and very tired. Her eyes fell on a

scattered pile of papers on the grass, and then she remembered.

'Weren't you sitting here, before?'

He replied drily, 'Yes, until I heard you give a kind of strangled

croak, and saw how real Roxanne's worry was. Nobody else seemed

to know what was happening, except Roxanne and I, of course, so I

dived in and grabbed a handful of Jeff's hair to yank him back. He let

go, I came up, and you popped up like a floating ice cube, doubled

over and unmoving. I must admit, that gave me a bad turn. For a

moment, I thought you'd gone unconscious.'

'I almost had. I'd started to black out when you grabbed me.'

Unexpectedly, she started to cry. He bent over her curved back, and

she felt the weight and warmth of him as he pressed his lips to the

nape of her neck.

'Ssh. Come on now, it was bad, but it was only for a few seconds, and

now it's all over with. Dry your tears. We'll go inside and you can

shower and get dressed, all right?'

'All right. I just feel so mortified.'

'Sit up and look at me.' She did, and his eyes were stern, his face

hard. 'Stop it. Do you hear?

Phobias are something out of a person's control. You couldn't help it.

If Jeff hadn't acted like the fool he is, it wouldn't have happened. Are

you ready to go indoors?'

She remembered his work, and looked at the papers. 'You don't have

to come with me. I'm all right.'

'I want to,' he said, and that was all there was to it.

PIERCE saw her to her room, after they had walked into the house

slowly, his arm still tightly about her shoulders. When she had shut

her bedroom door behind him, she sagged against it with her legs

trembling in delayed reaction. Then she dragged herself weakly to

her tiny bathroom to shower, wash her hair and, afterwards, dress.

Her face was still too pale, and her eyes strangely blank, when she

checked her appearance before going back downstairs. Pierce had

told her he would wait for her in the library after he had dressed, also,

and so she rather listlessly supposed she should go on down. All her

energy . seemed sapped, and she felt much more like taking a nap.

As she descended the stairs, she found herself thinking rather

distantly how odd it was for her to feel such terror at one type of

water, when, say for instance, a shower, with water cascading over

her head, didn't bother her in the slightest. A shudder went through

her entire body. One was so deep, and the other so safely shallow.

Voices sounded in an incomprehensible murmur from the family

room, and, as she checked briefly in the library and found no one

there, she headed towards the back of the house.

She could identify Pierce and Mrs Langston long before she could

distinguish words, and quickened her pace.

'... You weren't out there, you couldn't see her face. She was in

absolute terror,' Pierce was snapping impatiently. In automatic reflex,

her steps lagged, and she felt acutely uncomfortable to be

overhearing two people discussing her.

'All right, maybe she didn't put on an act. Maybe I misjudged,' said

Mrs Langston. Caprice felt an acute shock. 'After all, I saw it from

the back window and, God knows, I didn't understand what was

going on. But you must admit, darling, you have been paying her an

awful lot of attention, and we all saw you both this morning.'

'Drop it, I'm warning you,' Pierce said, his voice going silken.

'But I can't! Just let me say this one thing, please! She's an

inconsistent butterfly, all colour and no direction. Why, she's got

Jeffrey, that dear boy, Emory, and now you after her, and after just

one weekend!'

'You don't know what you're talking about,' he said harshly.

'Oh, I don't doubt she's a lovely person! That's not the point. But

you're so different, Pierce! You're older, mature, you're responsible

and steadfast.'

'This is a ridiculous conversation.'

Angry. What an intriguing emotion to be wasting.

'My dear, I never try to run your life, you know that. Heavens, you're

too old, and far too strong a personality for that. But I couldn't help

but say this. You'd just find yourself weary of her in a little while, or

she would weary of you, and one of you would get hurt.'

'Have I suggested a deep and intimate relationship between us, yet?'

Now exasperation. Caprice found that she was clasping her hands

together so hard, they hurt. 'We should end this. She'll be down any

moment.'

'You're complete opposites.'

'Don't you think I know that?' His sigh.

She backed away noiselessly, suddenly ashamed to find herself

caught by the same weakness Pierce had confessed just that morning,

and when she was safely away so that neither would hear normal

footsteps, she walked to the library and sank into one of the

armchairs and bowed her head.

Everything Mrs Langston had said was true. Everything, and she had

known it all along. It hdd been the underlying reason why she'd tried

to avoid him after that first evening of dancing under golden hung

lanterns. What could he possibly see in her after a while? Her life

was indeed shallow and she had lived it too long, for she didn't know

how to change. She'd been taught her lifestyle since she was a small

girl, and had to truthfully admit she loved the parties and' the outings,

and light chatter. If she yearned for something else, why, didn't

everyone yearn for something different, even in the most ideal of

lives?

A senseless, useless, ceaseless attraction for a man she barely knew,

and she was suddenly unhappy with everything. She would just hold

on until she got home. Her perspective would change then. She didn't

know enough about Pierce to have founded anything lasting or

concrete—she didn't even know his main interests in life, his goals,

his dreams, his hobbies. She knew nothing about him, except for the

look in his eyes, the low laugh in his voice, the feel of his arms, and

the sight of his naked chest. A mere infatuation!

The last thing she wanted was to hurt, or be hurt. It had gone on far

enough. No. That first, mocking kiss of hers had been too, too far.

Pierce said from the doorway, 'How are you feeling?'

Fine and dandy, yessir. A slight smile to him, and she said, 'I'm much

better. Feeling silly and a little tired.' The smile faded, leaving her

looking somehow older.

He walked forward, slowly. Light grey, slacks this time, and a short-

sleeved matching shirt. His eyes were on her, sharply. 'Is anything

wrong?' he asked. 'You look—odd.'

She shook her head a bit absently.

'Would you like something to drink?' He sat in the armchair opposite

her, the same that Emory had occupied that morning.

'No, thank you.' Her reply was distant, scrupulously polite. There was

certainly nothing to suggest the utterly humbled and crushed emotion

she'd experienced when hearing herself discussed so disparagingly.

But, oh, no doubt she was a lovely person. Something tight lay,

leaden, in her chest.

Pierce was frowning, his mouth held thin as he took a slow and

deliberate assessment of her.

'Something is wrong. Still dwelling on earlier? You shouldn't be.'

Swift anger. 'You don't know me. Don't make assumptions.'

Astonishment, then a darkening anger of his own. 'In case you'd

totally missed the point,' he said bitingly. 'I'm trying to be thoughtful,

and to see that you're all right after having a nasty shock.'

She lifted her eyes from her hands clasped in her lap, a sudden,

queerly stern glare. 'You want to help? Then don't push, don't pry at

me, and don't make conjectures about my possible state of being!'

He held himself quite still, an elegant man, with quick-moving,

quick-assessing eyes. His expression had changed after the

astonishment and fleeting anger to settle into hardened lines of

remoteness. At the look, she strangely wanted to cry, for all she could

think of was the gentle, comforting touch of his lips against the back

of her neck. 'My goodness,' he said, slow and sardonic. 'Anything

else you'd like to add to that?'

Her elbow leaning on one arm of the chair, she put her head down

and rubbed at her eyes. 'That seems,' she replied wearily, 'to be quite

comprehensible.' She wished she could feel hostile to him, but all she

could feel was regret.

Mrs Vandusen said from the doorway, 'Pierce, you have a phone call.

Would you like to take it here, or upstairs?'

He raised a dark brow at her, and said, with a causticity that made the

housekeeper raise her own in sharp surprise, 'An inadequate end.'

Caprice rose from her chair. 'But so appropriate. Don't bother going

upstairs.' She smiled without humour. 'It's far easier for me to leave.'

Outside the library, she heard his voice, already so familiar, and it

changed from abruptness to a far more businesslike tone. She bowed

her head, put on her happy face, and went outside.

The others were just climbing out and drying off with a pile of towels

which had been laid close by the pier. When she approached, there

was a moment of awkward silence, as everyone tried to think how

they would say what they were feeling. Then Jeffrey met her eyes,

which were calm and smiling. There was true mortification in his

glance. 'Look, I'm sorry -' he began.

She laughed and, feeling sorry for his, hangdog look, she walked

over to snake her arm around his slim waist for a brief, tight hug.

'Don't be more stupid than you can help, hm?' she said, and pressed

her lips to his cheek to take the sting out of her words. 'You weren't

to know I don't like getting my head under water! For heaven's sake,

forget it!'

After that, she moved away, and acted so utterly normal, and carefree

that everyone else relaxed with a collective sigh, and soon the

atmosphere was light-hearted once more.

Lunch was a laughing affair, and Caprice was much relieved to find

Roxanne being warmer to her. Soon after the meal, she found an

occasion to ask the brunette if they could leave fairly soon, and raised

a blonde eyebrow at the other girl's apparent eagerness to be gone.

The weekend had not turned out like either had expected it to.

So it was that, when Lane finally mentioned N that he would have to