Caprice (4 page)

hiccuped before she could help it, and they both laughed.

There was a sound of slow footsteps. Jeffrey's pleasant, teasing voice

said next to Caprice, 'And what's the joke you two are sharing so

secretively?'

She looked at him. His large dark eyes were full of admiration and

dazzlement as he stared at her. After a quickly flicked glance, he

hadn't so much as smiled at Roxanne, who was near to drooling over

his handsome, smooth features. A quiver of anger shook through her

at his utter obtuseness, and her friend's total lack of taste. She flipped

out a hand and twitched at his dark tie. 'You, darling,' she said,

sweetly malicious, and she strolled away.

Jeffrey stared after her, astonished and half angry at her rather too

sharp reply. Then, in a fit of pique, he turned to lavish his attention

on an all too willing Roxanne, who didn't know or care why her

friend had taken it into her head to make one of those all too

uncomfortable retorts of hers.

Caprice turned to observe her handiwork from an outside table,

where she busied herself refilling her wine glass. The two she had

just left were close together, dark head to dark head while they

animatedly talked about something. Good, she thought, turning away

with an unconscious toss of her head. Maybe he would pester Rox all

weekend, and quit bothering her. Rox would more than welcome it.

His older brother was nowhere to be seen, she found, as she looked

around casually. She moved her nearly bare shoulders. Oh well, the

party was becoming dull anyway. Perhaps she would go upstairs

early.

Then Emory joined her, his fair complexion rather flushed in the

yellow spilling light from their direct right. She let her gaze run

swiftly over him while she smiled an ingenuous welcome. He was

immaculately groomed, and she could faintly smell his expensive

cologne from where she stood. He was even handsome, in a fleshy

sort of way. She couldn't think why he reminded her of nothing so

much as an overgrown puppy.

She chattered with him for a while, but, when Petra drifted over, she

was soon able to extricate herself from the pair with a rambling

comment about the boats tied to the pier, as she walked that way. She

stepped carefully on the- planks, as a vivid image of herself tripping

by catching one of her stiletto heels in the inch-wide gaps came to

mind, and then stood at the end of the pier looking over the lake. The

breeze felt slightly damp on her cheeks, and refreshingly cool, while

the water looked black and impenetrable, with rippling gold

reflections of light dancing across its surface.

She stared down at the water dreamily. If her eyes went murky, or a

frown began to etch itself between her sleek winged brows, she

would have claimed laughingly to be unaware of the fact. There was

nothing to brood about anyway, in weedy lake water. Just because

the surface looked impenetrable like black onyx, while to go

underneath would be to find a whole different, complex world -

The boards creaked. She turned her head slightly, and listened to the

sounds of someone approaching. Too heavy to be a woman. She

composedly lifted her glass and sipped from it, her eyes blinking

now, almost sleepily. The man stopped just beside her, and

awareness of his presence tingled in her mind. She suddenly knew,

without looking, who it was.

'Thrown together by capricious fate,' said Pierce, drolly, and she

flicked one startled, wincing glance at him. He was smiling

crookedly, and at her pained expression he quietly laughed. 'Sorry. I

couldn't resist. You probably hear things like that all the time.'

She felt her pulse quicken, pleasantly. He had obviously asked

someone about her name. 'Rather a lot,' she admitted, and cradled her

glass in one slender hand. She sent another glance to him, finding it

difficult to see his face clearly. They were both facing away from the

hanging lights, which put their fronts into shadow. His back was well

lit, showing the sleek and elegant lines of his dark tailored suit, and

the shape and tilt of the back of his dark head. He turned his gaze to

her then, and his cheekbone, corner eyelashes, and jaw were lit

briefly, slanting golden colour. He was still faintly smiling.

'Why the name Caprice?' he asked, tucking his hands into his

pockets, the suit jacket turned back. His white shirt Was shadowy.

She belatedly realised why he looked so familiar; in a very

superficial way, he looked like Jeffrey, yet with hardened maturity

and the beginning of lines.

She let herself laugh, not too loudly, not too long, and it sent a light

tinkling shiver over the silent lapping water. 'My mother had four

false alarms when she was pregnant and overdue with me. Every time

they rushed her to the hospital, all tense and worried over it, because

I was her first, they didn't know quite what to expect, all those sorts

of things. When she finally went into real labour, they calmly took

their time getting ready and leaving—too much suspense, I guess,

during the first four times, and they had quite exhausted all their

anxiety. I was born five blocks from the hospital. My father likes to

say that I've been as difficult to predict ever since.'

'A difficult legacy to live with, I should think,' he murmured, low as

the lapping of the dark waters.

It brought her head around with an almost painful snap of the neck.

He was brooding, eyes on the end of the pier, which was right at his

feet. She let her eyes travel down the length of his lean, elegant body,

to his sleek, black shoes. They were planted somewhat apart from

each other, unconsciously proud. A shiver ran delicately down her

exposed nape to her spine. She couldn't think when she had ever

heard anyone react in such a way to the explanation of why her

parents had named her Caprice. Everyone always laughed.

She heard herself say gently, 'I seem to have a talent for it.'

His downbent head turned sideways as he shot a glance at her. After

a moment, he stirred and asked, 'And what are you thinking as you

stand here and stare into murky lakewater? I can assure you, at night

it is very cold.'

She replied lightly, as she lifted a slim hand to ineffectually tuck

back some of the wisps that had escaped from her French braid, 'I

was wondering what's at the other end, of course. Doesn't everyone?'

He replied, with some dryness, 'As I haven't met half the people who

have been here at one time or other, I have no idea. I usually steer

clear of the lodge on weekends.' A slight pause, as she digested that.

She wondered, then, why he had come up from New York on this

particular weekend. Perhaps he had really done it on a whim, that

capriciousness of fate he'd joked about. She was pulled out of her idle

reverie as he turned to her, businesslike, and suggested, 'So why don't

we find out what's at the other end?'

She looked and felt startled as she blinked back at him. 'Do you

mean—right now?' She sent her gaze back over the waters, and then

said, somewhat doubtfully, 'Would we be able to see it, in night

time?'

'Who knows?' he replied, with a grin. 'Care to give it a try?'

She regarded him smilingly, fully aware of the light which left part of

her face for his interested inspection. The visible violet eye sparkled

with amusement. 'I forgot,' she accused. 'You already know what's on

the other side.'

His quiet laughter sounded then. 'Yes, but you don't.'

'Well, then, what are we waiting for?'

But they had to choose a boat. He turned and frowned thoughtfully at

the collection tied at the pier. When he seemed to hesitate close by a

motor boat, she pleaded, 'Oh, please. No motors. It would ruin

everything.'

He raised his black eyebrows. 'Lady, that is a big lake.' -^

'Well,' she said, wavering. Then she continued bravely, 'I'll row.'

This time his laughter wasn't quiet at all, but a shout which carried

over the water. He then walked over to stand by one boat, as she

carefully came his way. 'Well, then, this will have to be it.'

'I should get rid of my glass,' she said, eyeing it.

'Oh, no, you don't,' he told her, with grim amusement. 'If you walk

over that lawn, you may never come back again alone. I've seen how

Jeffrey and his friends act around you. Come here, you can bring it

with you.'

She took the last two steps to reach his side, and as he contemplated

the rowing boat, and then her fragile, high-heeled sandals, he turned

to take her firmly under the elbows. 'Stiffen your arms,' he warned,

and she did so. Then he swung her into the boat, only letting go as he

made sure she had her balance and a bracing hold of the side. Then

he divested himself of his suit jacket, leaving it folded haphazardly

on the pier, and stepped lightly into the boat also. He had to pass by

her to reach the rowing seat, his thigh brushing her bare shoulder,

and then he said, 'OK, here we go. Can you reach back and loosen

that knot?'

She did, and found she could reach it quite comfortably. 'There we

go,' she said, her voice sounding underneath the pier and echoing

oddly. 'We're free.'

'Wait. Why don't you grab my jacket?' suggested Pierce then, a quiet-

voiced unknown. 'You might want it after a bit, on those sleeveless

arms.'

'Thanks, I will.' That wasn't the pier, she thought, with another shiver.

That strange breathless note was all her own. She took his jacket and

draped it over her shoulders, finding the shoulder width far too big

and quite lovely for snuggling deep into. She could smell the same,

faint, fresh scent as before, and she stealthily inhaled deeply.

He loosened the oars and, with a shoulder- flexing shove off one of

the other moored boats, they shot out so that he could begin rowing.

She leaned back on one hand while she sipped from her wine and

looked around her lazily. Very probably the hard seat was dirty, and

her dress would be rendered unwearable until she had a chance to

wash it, but she didn't care.

The only sounds were the dipping of the oars, continual and

rhythmic, and the wafting music from the party which carried for a

startling distance. The air smelled fresh, slightly wet, and she was

thankful for his jacket as a cooler wind chilled her. She said then,

'Are you warm enough? Here you are, doing all the work, and I'm

snuggled deep into your suit coat.'

'Don't trouble yourself, I'm quite warm,' he reassured rather quickly,

as she made as if to take off the jacket. She subsided then, and after a

bit he spoke again, very quietly. 'Are you awake?'

'Mmm,' she said, and then laughed. 'Yes, but a bit muddled from the

wine, I think. I had some at supper, and it's starting to go to my head.

Sorry.'

She could hear the smile in his voice. 'Don't be. As long as you're not

roaring drunk. See those lights, along the edge to your right? Those

are other houses. Our neighbours don't take too kindly to a lot of

ruckus on the water late at night. The sound carries over to them.'

'Well, please don't worry about me, then,' she said, with a light, hand-

covered yawn. 'I don't get drunk. I fall asleep. It can be utterly

mortifying.' While he chuckled, she paused to look at the oars with

some distaste. They were already far out from the Langstons'

property and coming to the other end of the lake, which was peaceful

and dark, though by no means quiet. A multitude of crickets

positively screeched from the undergrowth. 'I suppose I should offer

to row back.'

Another low chuckle. He neatly swung the boat around and began to

slowly row them back. 'I won't hold you to that promise. You do

realise that you'll probably be a bit dingy on your backside?'

'Heavens, yes, but who cares?' she said, impatient and light. 'I'll just

sneak upstairs by the back way. Does the house have a back way?'

'We'll figure out something for you,' he said amusedly. 'If you like,

we can edge past everyone, back to back.'

She grinned. They had passed around the slight bend in the lake, and

the low-hung golden lanterns were visible, far over the dark waters

like a magical domain. Faint music and laughter wafted to them on

the breeze, and Pierce sat facing her, a blackened, impenetrable