Cassandra Austin (5 page)

“Really?” Lynnette felt Christian’s scrutiny. “What do you write?”

“Fiction,” she said, trying to include everyone in her answer to avoid looking directly at Christian.

“Have you had anything published?”

C
hristian’s question hung in the air, repeating itself in Lynnette’s mind until it became an accusation. “Have you had anything published?”

She opened her mouth to speak. Should she lie, keep them in the dark the way she had everyone else, even Amanda, or tell them about the book and risk their censure? The notion that Arlen might not wish to marry the author of one of those scandalous novels occurred to her for the first time. Her heart beat hard enough for the others to hear, a ringing beat like boot heels on a wooden floor. Boot heels that grew closer.

Christian’s attention turned away from her, toward the living room. It
was
boot heels she had heard. She almost wilted with relief.

“I believe Arlen’s home,” Hugh said.

Lynnette’s relief quickly turned to a different kind of dread. How should she greet the stranger who had asked her to marry him?

There was no time to decide, however. Arlen strode into the room. Hugh stood and extended his hand. Emily barely looked up from her ice cream.

Arlen bent to kiss Lynnette’s cheek before reaching past her to shake his father’s hand. He slipped into the chair next to her. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t meet your train, darling. I hope you had a good trip.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “And you?” He was really quite handsome with a dark curl caressing his forehead. And charming. It felt nice to have someone’s undivided attention.

“Fine. Just fine.” His gaze was almost worshipful. “It’s wonderful to see you again. I hurried away as soon as I could.”

“You eaten?” Christian asked.

“All I’ve done for two days is eat.” He seemed to notice his siblings for the first time. “I might have some of that ice cream, though.”

Christian slowly savored a spoonful, swallowed it and smacked his lips. “You know where it is,” he said. “You might want to hurry before Jake finishes it off.”

Hugh laughed. “We’re about ready to move to the living room, Arlen. Why don’t you get a bowl and join us. Bring yours along, Lynnette.” He rose from the table and a moment latter Emily and Christian followed.

Arlen detained Lynnette with a hand on her arm. “I’m truly sorry I couldn’t be here when you arrived,” he. whispered once they were alone.

“That’s quite all right, Arlen. I understand. Your family’s made me feel welcome.”

“I don’t want you to think this campaign is more important than you are,” he said, still in a hushed tone.
“You’re everything to me.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

Lynnette fought the urge to squirm. She wasn’t sure if it was his kiss or his words that made her the more uncomfortable. She gave him a wavering smile when he finally lifted his head. They could hear voices from the next room, and Arlen stood, helping her to her feet. “I’ve kept you alone long enough,” he said softly. “Join the others. I’ll be along in a moment.”

He headed toward the kitchen, and Lynnette gazed after him. She should be flattered by his words. She should be falling head over heels in love with him. Instead she felt uneasy. She didn’t think she wanted to be “everything” to anyone.
At least not to Arlen.
She felt guilty for that thought. Why not Arlen? They just needed time.

She glanced down at the half-finished dessert and decided against bringing it. In the living room, she found Hugh setting up a chessboard while Christian built a fire. Emily stood over Christian, her hands on her hips.

“Do you have to tonight?” she asked.

“You don’t break a horse by working with it once in a while.”

“But tonight? I just got home.”

Christian rose to his feet, brushing his hands on his pants. “Go on up now,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Emily turned and ran toward the stairs. She met Arlen coming with his bowl of ice cream but barely acknowledged him as she grabbed the banister and scurried up the stairs.

“What’s she up to?” Arlen asked. He urged Lynnette into a love seat and sat down beside her.

Hugh answered his question. “She wants to change for bed before Christian goes out to work with the stallion.”

“One would think she would have outgrown that by now,” Arlen said.

“Let her be a little girl when she’s home.” Christian took a seat near the fire, almost hidden from Lynnette’s view by Hugh and his chessboard.

“Do I have any takers?” Hugh asked. “Lynnette, do you play?”

Lynnette smiled. “I have played. I don’t know if I’ll be much of a challenge to you, though.”

“He doesn’t want a challenge,” Arlen said. “He plays chess at night for the same reason Christian waits until evening to break his horses. They want to catch their opponents when they’re tired.”

“In that case,” Lynnette said, coming to her feet. “I’m the perfect opponent.” She crossed to the table, and Christian stepped forward, moving a big leather-covered chair into position. She took the seat, nodding her thanks as he returned to his place. She thought she should have felt some loss at leaving Arlen’s side, but actually she was more comfortable across from his father.

He offered her the first move, which she took. This prompted him to spend a long moment studying the board as if this were a most unusual first move.

“He’s waiting for you to fall asleep,” Christian whispered into the silence.

Hugh promptly moved.

Lynnette knew only three basic strategies. She found them thwarted easily by Hugh and was soon on the defensive. “Do I have any hope of winning?” she asked at one point.

“None,” said Christian.

“Oh, I wouldn’t give up yet,” Hugh encouraged. “You have several good pieces left.”

“But I can’t seem to do anything but sacrifice them.”

“Take charge,” Christian said, leaning closer. “Make him do what you want.”

Lynnette’s eyes met Christian’s, blue and deep. She felt oddly touched that he would offer her encouragement. She tried her best to do as he said. In three moves she was able to call check instead of always hearing it. But four moves later it was over.

“I’m afraid your advice came too late,” she told Christian.

“Another?” Hugh asked.

“I think I should quit while I can still salvage my pride.” She glanced at Arlen, thinking she should return to his side. The comfort of the chair was her excuse for not wanting to move.

“Arlen?” Hugh asked. His son declined, and he waved Lynnette back into the chair, settling deeper into his own. “Tell us how your trip went, Arlen.”

As Arlen started to speak, Emily came down the stairs. She was dressed in a pale blue robe, the hem of a white nightgown and her bare toes visible as she walked. Her hair was down around her shoulders again. She went straight to Christian and handed him
a brush. He moved to the edge of his seat, and Emily, turning away from him, knelt on the floor.

Lynnette heard very little of what Arlen said. The wing of the chair hid him from her view, anyway. It was much more pleasant to watch Emily’s profile as Christian dragged the brush through her hair. An occasional glance at Hugh told her he was engrossed in Arlen’s conversation.

With skillful movements, Christian began to plait his sister’s hair. He drew up lock after lock, working them into the braid. Never once did Emily’s expression suggest that he had snagged a hair or tugged too hard. Christian’s face bore a wistful expression that brought a lump to Lynnette’s throat.

It was all over in a few minutes. Over her shoulder Emily handed him a ribbon, and he tied it around the end of the braid. She stood, and he gave her the brush. When she whispered something to him and hugged him, Lynnette forced her eyes away.

Arlen seemed to be coming to the end of his narrative, and she had heard none of it. She hoped he wouldn’t expect her to remember something later. Perhaps she could claim she had fallen asleep.

“I’ll play you, Papa.”

“Have my seat,” Lynnette offered. “I believe I’ll turn in.”

“I’ll see you to your room.” Arlen was at her side in a moment, offering his arm. From the corner of her eye, she saw Christian turn and look at her before stepping out the door.

Arlen walked her slowly up the stairs and, outside the bedroom door, he wished her good-night. He bent
to kiss her lips, and Lynnette felt she shouldn’t flinch away. At the same time, she didn’t return the kiss, and it all felt very awkward.

Lynnette wondered if he even noticed. He gazed at her adoringly, and she needed to break the spell. “It’s kind of you to give up your room,” she said, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll dream of the night I can share it with you,” he murmured softly. Lynnette saw his cheeks blush faintly.

She opened the door, her thoughts on escape. A cool breeze greeted her. The balcony door was open, and the temperature had dropped quickly after sundown. Arlen brushed past her and latched the door. For a moment she thought her quick move into the room had been interpreted as an invitation.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked, striking a match and lighting the lamp on the dresser. “I could start a fire to ward off the chill.”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” she said, praying that she had been wrong. How would she gently discourage him?

“Then good night,” he said, and started out of the room, only to stop short once he was past her. Lynnette held her breath. “Tyrant,” he said.

Lynnette turned to the bed to find the big black and white cat sitting disdainfully in the middle of the quilt “How did he get in here?”

“From the balcony, I imagine. Come on out, now.” He waved the cat toward the door.

Lynnette tried to picture the view from the balcony. “I don’t remember any large trees near the house.”

The cat hopped off the bed and rubbed himself against Arlen’s legs. “He climbs the chimneys,” Arlen explained. Lifting the cat in his arms, he bade her good-night once again. Lynnette followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

Picturing the cat’s athletic feats brought a smile to her lips. It wasn’t until she was ready for bed that she allowed herself to remember the things Arlen had said. He seemed to be actively wooing her. He would make a kind and caring husband, and she was unusually lucky.

She blew out the lamp, and twilight spilled into the room through the balcony door. She went to pull the curtains, but found herself stepping onto the balcony instead. What she could see of the barn was a black silhouette against the orange remains of the sunset.

She stepped to the railing to see more. A whinny brought her attention downward. A black horse was barely visible in the small corral. It was tied close to the center post. Christian slowly rubbed the long neck. Her ears, more in tune to the distance now, heard his soothing voice.

She remembered Arlen’s comment about catching opponents while they were tired, but Christian didn’t look at odds with the horse. In fact, his movements reminded her more of the way he had braided his sister’s hair. It was beautiful to watch. As he moved around the horse, it tossed its head and tried to shy away. In moments it was still again as Christian rubbed it neck, its back, its sides.

Something warm unexpectedly curled inside her. She had begun to imagine those hands running over
her own body. What wicked thoughts! She quickly turned back into the room, latching the door and drawing the curtain.

Christian spoke softly to the stallion, stroking the silky coat. He had seen the light go out in Arlen’s room, the one Lynnette was using. It hadn’t helped him get his mind off the woman. This morning he had determined to spend as much time with her as possible to learn her true feelings for Arlen. Now, he was reluctant to do so and wasn’t sure why.

Some tiny sound or sixth sense told him he was being watched. He moved toward the stallion’s head and without breaking the rhythm of his strokes, glanced toward the house. In the twilight, he could make out a white-gowned, almost ghostly, figure on the balcony.

He closed his eyes, willing the figure out of his mind. The horse, sensing his inattention, whinnied and tried to pull free.

“Whoa now,” he murmured. “You can’t go till I say. You might as well relax. That’s a good boy.”

He wasn’t going to look up. He turned his back on the house to avoid the temptation. The stallion tossed his head, testing the rope. Christian calmed him again.

Hell, why should an audience ruin his concentration, especially when that audience was a little slip of a city girl he didn’t even like. No, that wasn’t true. He had decided not to like her and found it harder to do than he had expected.

He heard the click of the balcony door closing. He should be able to put her out of his mind now. Who
was she, anyway, to dominate his thoughts? She was pretty, sure. Polite and pleasant. Still, she was nothing like the woman he wanted for a helpmate. She should be easy to forget.

But she wanted Arlen, he reminded himself. And he wasn’t going to let his little brother ruin his life by marrying a gold digger. It had all happened too fast to be anything else. He would watch her and expose her for what she was. If her circumstances were truly dire, his family was in a position to help her find some kind of work.

The thought brought a smile to his lips. Imagine her as a teacher or governess! The suggestion would probably make her faint dead away. Especially compared to marriage to a wealthy politician.

The stallion tossed his head and danced around the snubbing post, tightening the rope. “All right,” Christian said. “I get the message.” The animal sensed his master’s tension. Trying to continue would cause more harm than good. He untied the rope and led the nervous stallion into the barn.

Lynnette awoke disoriented. Pale light seemed to be coming from the wrong direction, and she wondered if she had turned sideways in her bed. The room righted itself quickly when she remembered she was no longer in her own bed and never would be again. She tried to toss aside the melancholy with the covers and rose to greet the day.

She washed in the basin and put on one of her favorite dresses. It was a soft rose color trimmed in deep green. The colors suited her and normally made her
feel confident. It wasn’t working today. The dress was designed to be worn with hoops, which had gone out of style to be replaced by tight skirts and bustles. She had shortened the dress and substituted four petticoats. It gave it a rather casual appearance.