Tears of the Renegade (9 page)

She found herself on her feet, unable to calmly sit there while he bared his deepest secret to her. “Preston…I didn't know,” she whispered.

His clear blue eyes were a little shiny, too. “I know,” he said, taking a shuddering breath. “I made sure I kept it from you. What else could I do? Try to steal my brother's wife?”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!” What else was there to say? Events couldn't be altered. Perhaps, if their lives had been allowed to go on undisturbed, she might one day have come to love Preston in the way he wanted, though she rather thought that instead she would always have seen him as Vance's brother, and looking at him would always have been like looking at a slightly altered photo of Vance. But the even tenor of her life had been disrupted from the moment she'd seen Cord, and crossing that dance floor to take his hand and
shield him from the scene that had been brewing had forever altered her, in ways that she hadn't yet discovered.

“I know.” He turned his head away, not wanting her to see the depth of his pain. He was a man of pride and patience, and his patience had gained him nothing. All he could do now was cling to his pride. He walked to the door and left, his shoulders square, his gait steady, but still Susan knew what the effort cost him, and her vision blurred as she watched him.

Would Cord be glad that, even involuntarily, he'd managed to hurt Preston? She winced at the thought. She'd certainly never tell him that Preston had hoped for a deeper relationship. What he'd told her today would go no further; it was the least she could do for someone she loved as much as she could, even though, for him, that wasn't enough.

B
y Friday her emotional turmoil had taken its toll on her, and the price she'd paid was evident in an even more slender waistline, and a fragility in her face that was startling. She and Imogene had made up, in a way. They had spoken to each other on the phone, never making reference to their difference of opinion, but their conversation had been stilted and brief. Imogene had simply asked her if she would be attending Audrey Gregg's Friday night fund-raising dinner for a local charity. Imogene had a prior commitment, and she wanted Susan to go, since Audrey was a very good friend. Susan had agreed, reluctant to face an evening of having to smile and pretend that everything was all right, but acknowledging her family duty. At least it wasn't formal, thank God. Audrey Gregg believed in keeping her guests entertained; there would be dancing, a generous buffet instead of a sit-down dinner, and probably a night-club act brought in from New Orleans.

Spring was tantalizing them again with marvelous weather, though only the day before it had been cold and overcast. Today the temperature had soared to eighty, and the forecasters had promised a mild night. With that in mind, Susan dressed in a floaty dress in varying shades of lavender and blue, with a wrap bodice that hugged and outlined her breasts. She was too tired and depressed to fool much with her hair,
and simply brushed it back, securing it behind each ear with filagree combs. The sun was setting in a marvelous skyscape of reds and gold and purples when she drove over to Audrey's house, and the natural beauty lifted her spirits somewhat. How could she keep frowning in the face of that magnificent sunset?

The brief lifting of her spirits lasted only until she glanced over the crowd at Audrey's and saw Cord, casually sophisticated in gray flannel slacks and a blue blazer, dancing with Cheryl Warren. Cheryl again! Though Cheryl was a likable person, unexpectedly kind despite her chorus-girl looks, Susan felt an unwelcome sting of jealousy. It was just that Cheryl was so…so sexy, and so
together.
Her tall, leggy body was svelte, with a dancer's grace; her makeup was always a little dramatic, but always perfectly applied, and somehow right for her. Her ash-blond hair looked wonderful—loose and sexy, tousled.

Compared to Cheryl, Susan felt nondescript. Her simple hairstyle suddenly seemed childish, her makeup humdrum, her dress the common garden variety. She scolded herself for feeling that way, because she knew the dress was becoming to her and was perfectly stylish. It was just that Cord made her feel so insecure, so unsure of herself and what she wanted. Then she had to admit to herself that she did know what she wanted: She wanted Cord. But she couldn't have him; he was all wrong for her, and he didn't want her anyway.

Suddenly Preston was at her elbow, his strong hand guiding her to the buffet. With a pang, Susan realized that normally she would have been here with Preston, but this time he hadn't even asked her. Cord had managed to drive a wedge between her and Preston, whose friendship she had depended on for so long. How pleased he would be if he only knew what he'd done!

Preston's blue eyes were worried as he looked down at her. “Relax for a minute,” he advised. “You're wound up like a two-dollar watch.”

“I know,” she sighed, watching as he automatically filled a plate for her. He knew all her favorite foods, and he chose them without asking. When he had two laden plates in his hand, he nodded over to a group of empty chairs and they made their way across the room to claim them, with Susan stopping enroute to fetch two glasses of champagne punch.

He watched as she nibbled on a fresh, succulent Gulf shrimp. “You're lovely,” he said with the blunt honesty of people who know each other well. “But you look as if you're going to fly into a million pieces, and that isn't like you.”

She managed a wry smile. “I know. You don't know how I wish I could do more than catnap. At least Imogene's speaking to me again.”

He grinned. “I knew she wouldn't last long. She's been so restless, it was almost funny. Honey, if it's such a strain on you, why don't you take a vacation? Forget about all of this and get away from all of us for a while.”

“I can't do that now.” The look she gave him was worried. “I can't leave you not knowing if…if…”

“I know.” He covered her hand with his, briefly applying pressure before removing his touch. “I'm handling it, so don't worry so much. In another week to ten days, I'll have the money repaid into Cord's account.”

She bit her lip. She knew that he would have had to liquidate a lot of assets to raise that much money so quickly, and she felt guilty that he hadn't allowed her to help. Perhaps she hadn't known anything about it, but she had profited by the use of the money because it had made the company stronger.

By sheer willpower, she kept her gaze from straying too often to Cord as the minutes crawled past, but still she somehow always knew where he was. He'd stopped dancing with Cheryl, and she was surprised by the number of people who engaged him in conversation, despite how wary most of
them still were of him. Why was he here? She couldn't imagine that Audrey Gregg had invited him, so he had to have come with someone else, probably Cheryl. Was he seeing Cheryl often?

For a while he stood alone, off to one side, slowly sipping a glass of amber liquid, his dark face blank of any expression, his eyes hooded. He was always alone, she thought painfully. Even when someone was talking with him, he had a quality about him that set him apart, as if he were surrounded by an invisible barrier. He'd probably had to become hard and aloof to survive, but now that very protection kept him from being close to another human being.

It was too stressful to watch him. To divert herself, she began talking to Preston, and resolutely kept her gaze away from Cord. Good friend that Preston was, he talked easily of many things, keeping her occupied. She knew that he had to be under a strain himself, even more so than she was, but he was handling it well, and his concern was all for her.

Suddenly Preston looked past her, his blue gaze sharpened and alert. “It's in the fan now,” he muttered. “Grant Keller is about to tie into Cord.”

Susan whirled, and gasped at the hostility of the scene. Grant Keller was a picture of aggressive, bitter hatred, standing directly in front of Cord, his fists knotted and his jaw thrust out as he spat some indistinguishable words at the younger man. His handsome, aristocratic face was twisted with hate and fury. Cord, on the other hand, looked cool and bored, but there was an iciness in his eyes that warned Susan that he was on the verge of losing his temper. His stance was relaxed, and that too was a signal. He was perfectly balanced, ready to move in any direction.

Her breath caught in her chest. He'd never before seemed so aloof, so unutterably alone, with only his natural pride and
arrogance to stand with him. Her heart was stabbed with pain, and she felt as if she were choking. He was a warrior who would die rather than run, standing by his own code, loyal to his own ideals. Oh, God, couldn't they see that only pain could force a man into such isolation? He'd been hurt enough! Then, out of the corner of her eye, Susan saw Mary Keller watching her husband, with distress and a wounded look evident on her quiet face.

Suddenly Susan was angry, with a fierce swell of emotion that drove away her depression, her tiredness. That old scandal had already caused enough trouble and pain, and now another woman was about to be hurt by it. Mary Keller had to sit there and watch her husband try to start a fight over another woman, something that couldn't be pleasant. And Cord…what about Cord? His youthful love affair had caused him to be driven away from his family, and the hard life that he'd lived since then had only isolated him more. Grant Keller was the wronged husband, true, but he wasn't the only one who had suffered. It was time for it to end, and she was going to see that it did!

People who had never seen Susan Blackstone angry were startled by the look on her face as she headed across the room, and a path was cleared for her. Her eyes were a stormy indigo, her cheeks hot with color, as she marched up to the two men and put her slender body gracefully between them. She was dwarfed by their size, but no one had any doubt that the situation had been swiftly defused. She was practically sparking with heat.

“Grant,” she said with a sweetness that couldn't begin to disguise the fire in her eyes, “I'd like to talk to you, please. Alone. Now.”

Surprised, he looked down at her. “What?” His tone indicated that he hadn't quite registered her presence.

Cord's hard hands clamped about her waist, and he started
to move her to one side. She looked up, smiling at him over her shoulder.
“Don't…you…dare,”
she said, still sweetly. She looked back at Grant. “Grant. Outside.” To make certain that he obeyed her, she took his arm and forcefully led him out of the room, hearing the buzz of gossip begin behind her like angry bees swarming.

“Are you crazy?” she demanded in a fierce whisper when they were out of earshot, dropping the older man's arm and whirling on him in a fury. “Haven't enough people already been hurt by that old scandal? It's
over!
It can't be undone, and everyone has paid for it. Let it die!”

“I can't,” he returned just as fiercely. “It's burned into my head! I walked into my own home and found my wife in bed with
him.
Do you think he was ashamed? He just glared at me, as if she were
his
wife, as if I had no right to be there!”

Yes, that sounded like Cord, able to stare down the devil himself. But she brushed all of that aside. “Maybe you have bad memories, but you're just going to have to handle them. Are you still in love with your first wife? Is that it? Do you want her back? You have Mary now, remember! Have you given her a thought? Have you thought of how she must feel right now, watching you start a fight over another woman? Why don't you just walk up and slap her in the face? I'm sure it wouldn't hurt her any worse than she's hurting right now.”

He blanched, staring down at her. Perspiration broke out on his face, and he wiped his brow with a nervous hand. “My God, I hadn't thought,” he stammered.

Susan poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “It's a dead issue,” she said flatly. “I don't want to hear about it again. If anyone…
anyone
…wants to fight Cord over something that happened fourteen years ago, they're going to have to go over me first. Now, go back in there to your wife and try to make it up to her for what you've done!”

“Susan—” He broke off, staring at her pale, furious face as if he'd never seen her before. “I didn't mean—”

“I know,” she said, relenting. “Go on now.” She gave him a gentle push, and he sucked in a deep breath, obviously preparing himself to face a wife who had every right to be hurt, humiliated and angry. Susan stood where she was for a moment after he'd gone, drawing in her own deep breaths until she felt calm seep back into her body, replacing the furious rush of adrenaline that had sent her storming across the room to step between two angry men.

“That's a bad habit you've got.” The deep drawl came from behind her, and she whirled, her breath catching, as Cord sauntered out of the shadows. Abruptly she shivered, no longer protected by her anger, as the cooling night air finally penetrated her consciousness. Quickly she cast a glance at the crowd of people visible through the patio doors, some of them dancing again, going about their own concerns. She had stepped in too soon for anything exciting to happen, so there wouldn't even be much gossip.

“They all know we're out here, but no one is going to intrude,” he said cynically. “Not even Preston, the Boy Wonder.” He touched the soft curve of her cheek with one finger, trailing it down to the graceful length of her throat. “Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's dangerous to get between two fighting animals?”

She shivered again, and when she tried to speak she found that her voice wouldn't work right; it was husky, strained. “I knew you wouldn't hurt me.”

Again his finger moved, sliding with excruciating slowness over her collarbone, then stroking lightly over the sensitive hollow of her shoulder. Susan found that the touch of his finger, the hypnotic motion of it, somehow interfered with her breathing; the rhythm of her lungs was thrown off, and she
was almost hyperventilating one moment, then holding her breath the next. She stared up at him, seeing his lips move as he spoke, but her attention was focused on his touch, and the words didn't make sense. She swallowed, licked her suddenly dry lips, and croaked, “I'm sorry. What—”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a strange almost-smile. “I said, you'd be a lot safer if you didn't trust me. Then you'd stay away from me, and you wouldn't get burned. I can't decide about you, honey.”

“What do you mean?” Why couldn't her voice be stronger? Why couldn't she manage more than that husky whisper?

His finger moved again, making a slow trek over to her other shoulder, touching her in a way that made her heart slam excitedly. She'd never noticed her shoulders being so sensitive, but he was doing things to her that were rocketing her into desire. “I can't decide whose side you're on,” he murmured, watching both his finger and the way her breasts were heaving as she struggled to regulate her breathing. “You're either the best actress I've ever seen, or you're so innocent you should be locked up to keep you safe.” Suddenly his pale eyes slashed upward, his gaze colliding with hers with a force that stunned her. “Don't step in front of me again. If Grant had accidentally hit you, I'd have killed him.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever was in her mind was forever lost when he trailed his finger downward to her breasts, stroking her cleavage, then exploring beneath the cloth of her bodice to flick over a velvet nipple. She caught a moan before it surfaced, gasping in air. With a slow, sure touch he put his hand inside her dress, cupping her in his palm with a bold caress, as sure of himself as if they weren't standing on the patio where any of fifty people could interrupt them at anytime. He looked at her face, soft, drowning in sensuality, and suddenly he wondered if she
looked the same whenever Preston touched her. She was either the most sensual woman he'd ever seen, or she was fantastic at faking it. At the thought of Preston, he removed his hand, leaving her dazed and floundering. “You'd better get back inside,” he muttered; then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night shadows, leaving her more alone than she'd felt since Vance's death.