To Tell the Truth (18 page)

"That's not true," Andrea protested, checking the tiny sob that tried to slip through with the last word.

"I believed that story you told me about why you married John. It was all lies, wasn't it?" Nancy accused, running a hand through her silken brown hair as if unable to believe all of this was happening. With a wretched cry, she turned on Tell. "How could you have fallen in love with her when she was already married to John? You must have been insane!"

"If it's any of your business, I didn't know!" Tell snapped. He lit a cigarette and handed it to Andrea and lit another for himself.

"You're my brother and it is my business!" Nancy retorted.

"You're only making matters worse. Why don't you leave us alone?" Tell sent an impatient cloud of smoke into the air.

"I just heard you say not two minutes ago that you loved her. You're in love with the wife of our mother's best friend. How could anything be worse?"

"Nancy, please." The ashes fell from the burning tip of her cigarette as Andrea extended her hand in a beseeching gesture. "He didn't know who I was or even that I was married."

"You let him fall in love with you and didn't bother to let him know that somebody had a prior claim?" An incredulous astonishment covered his half-sister's face.

"I know it sounds unforgivable…" Andrea began.

"That's an understatement," Nancy observed dryly.

Andrea spun away, shakily carrying the cigarette to her trembling lips. The inhaled smoke only made her cough. "I meant to explain to him," she continued, snubbing the cigarette out in an ashtray, "but he found out before I even had the chance to begin the story."

"I'm surprised he didn't wring your damned neck!" Plainly indicating that if Nancy had been Tell, she would have.

"That's enough!" Tell ordered, flashing his sister a silencing look.

This time Andrea wasn't able to elude the arms that firmly encircled her. She held herself stiffly, unable to accept his protection from Nancy's slinging arrows.

"Wait a minute," Nancy said suddenly as a thought occurred to her. "A second ago you said Tell didn't know who you were. Are you saying that he didn't know you were John's wife even when he came here?"

"No, I didn't know," Tell answered for Andrea, tenderly wiping a tear from her cheek and gazing anxiously into her face, "any more than she knew I was Rosemary Collins's son."

"At least now I understand why you were so savagely bitter," and sarcastic toward her. "And to think I felt sorry for her," Nancy sighed. "After the way she has hurt you, for heaven's sake, why are you protecting her now?"

"Because, in spite of everything, I still love her." His voice was grim, but filled with conviction.

"But Andrea is married," she protested.

"Yes, I am married," Andrea spoke softly, heartbreak throbbing in her voice. "Yet neither of you seem to understand that it's only an arrangement. You both seem to think it's wrong that I fell in love when I'm already married, but it's what John wanted…for me to find someone to love. He wouldn't call it being unfaithful."

"Andrea—" Tell tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't let him. She was determined to finish her story.

"And you just said that you loved me in spite of everything. That means you love me even though you think I'm a money-hungry little tramp." Her chin quivered as she searched his face for some sign that his desire to protest was more than a token denial of her words. "What kind of love is that, Tell? Where there's no trust or respect? I love you completely and totally. The only regret I feel is that we've been pretending in front of everyone else that we're strangers." She turned her tear-filled eyes to Nancy. "I apologize for deceiving you, but we'd both carried the lie so far that I had no choice."
 

Nancy was silent, a shadow of doubt flashing across her expressive eyes, revealing the thought that her vindictive tongue might have been too hasty in condemning Andrea for her brother's sake.

"Please, Tell, let me go," Andrea begged. "I'm very tired."
 

In truth, she felt torn into a thousand tiny pieces. She barely had the strength to make the protesting twist that freed herself from his reluctant arms. She wasn't certain that she could put all the pieces together again, nor that she even wanted to try. Keeping her gaze averted from both of them, she moved slowly and painfully toward the door.

"Andrea, please, we have to talk,
"
said Tell. "We can't leave it like this."

She paused, her eyes downcast, her head slightly turned in the direction of his voice. "This time, I think it's really true. There isn't any more to say. If I can't know all the facets of your love—pride, respect and trust—then I'm better off with nothing, and so are you."

Tell followed her to the foot of the staircase, but he made no further attempt to stop her. Every step away from him was an effort. The joy of loving they had shared only a short time before was something she never wanted to let go.

The knowledge that his dark eyes were following her every step was torture. She could feel his silent demand for her to return to his arms where she belonged, yet didn't belong. But this was one time she was certain that she had made the only choice available. She had told him the truth, not as succinctly as she would have liked, but it had been the truth.

Without the inducement of the sleeping pills, now in Tell's possession, Andrea lay awake in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, feeling the dampness on her cheeks moistening the pillow under her head. Half an hour later, she heard light, feminine footsteps coming up the stairs; whatever discussion Nancy and Tell had been having was obviously concluded.

It hurt to know that she had alienated Nancy's friendship. She had guessed all along that Nancy would feel badly toward her if she ever found out that Andrea had been the girl at Squaw Valley, it was perfectly natural. She could hardly blame Nancy for turning against her considering the anguish she had caused Tell, but it was painful just the same.

Much, much, later, Tell's even tread sounded on the stairs. Without even trying, she could picture the weariness and defeat—and maybe a faint tinge of bitterness—that had to be in his face. His footsteps halted at the top of the stairs. Andrea held her breath, waiting for them to continue to his room.

Her shaking sigh when they started again was caught sharply back the instant she realized they were coming toward her room. She couldn't bear another confrontation with Tell tonight. Her love for him was so great that she was terrified that she might convince herself that it was enough.

When Tell hesitated outside her door, her heart pounded so heavily she was positive Tell could hear it in the hall. Rigidly, she held herself motionless, fearful of making the slightest noise. If he believed she were sleeping, he might go away.

A bitter laugh tried to escape her mouth, born in the faint hysteria of the last thought. Sleep. How could Tell possibly believe she could sleep after denying the only man she had ever loved? Her teeth bit into her lip, drawing blood but succeeding in stifling the betraying sound.

When she felt she could endure the waiting no longer, his footsteps started again, this time away from her door. Seconds later she heard the quiet closing of the door to his own room. It wasn't a sigh of relief that she uttered but a choked sob of pain.

Chapter Ten

AT FIRST the knock on her door seemed to come from a great distance. The longer Andrea ignored it, the louder it became. Wearily, she opened her eyes, focusing them on the dim streamer of sunlight coming through her window. It couldn't possibly be morning already, she thought tiredly. She had only just fallen asleep. Her exhausted brain couldn't even remember what day of the week it was.

There was another persistent knock at her door. Andrea rolled on to her back, letting the heaviness of her lashes relax to cover tired eyes.

"Who is it?" she asked in irritation.

The only answer she received was the opening of the door. She frowned, opening her eyes listlessly to identify the culprit who had interrupted her sleep so early in the morning. All thought of sleep vanished completely. Was she dreaming, or was Tell standing beside her bed?

"Good morning." The vision spoke, proving he wasn't really a vision.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed her astonishment.

The expression carved on his leanly handsome features was resolute and hard but his dark eyes were gentle as they moved over her face. The memory of last night came flooding back and Andrea turned her head quickly aside, pulling the covers around her chest like a wounded animal wanting only to hide.

"Please leave, Tell," Andrea whispered achingly.

"No," was his firm and unequivocal reply. The edge of the bed took his weight and Andrea closed her eyes tightly against the intoxicating sight of him. "I love you, Andrea, and I can't accept your decision last night as being final."

"It has to be." All the hurt and torment returned anew.

"I don't see it that way, unless—" Tell paused "—unless you aren't in love with me and are seeking an excuse to end things."

"How can you say…" Andrea jerked her head around, her eyes, wide and tortured, denying immediately that there was any truth to his words.

Then she saw the complacent smile curving his masculine mouth and crinkling the corners of his eyes in the way she adored. Her heart somersaulted under his devastating smile. He had been teasing, not accusing or mocking.

"You see, Andrea my darling," the loving light remained in his gaze as he studied her face as if he would never grow tired of looking at it, "neither one of us can deny how much we love each other. That's quite a foundation to build on, isn't it?"

"No." Andrea wasn't sure what she was saying no to, but it was imperative that she utter some negative sound or she would yield to his persuasion.

His smile deepened at her puny attempt to argue. She started to turn her head away, but he captured her chin in his fingers and refused to let her avoid him.

"I walked away from you twice," Tell said. "I won't do it again and I won't let you go away from me."

"No," Andrea protested automatically.

He tipped his head to one side, a hint of determination in his smile. "You're going to have to stop saying that word."

"No," she repeated weakly.

"Yes," he said firmly.

His mouth descended onto hers, taking her lips in a sweetly possessive kiss that was tender and firm. Andrea was unable to check her response, letting her lips move lovingly against his to deepen the kiss. She had neither the strength nor the will to deny the power of his touch.

"How can you possibly deny this, let alone forget it?" Tell asked as his mouth followed the curve of her cheek to her ear.

Tongues of hot lightening flashed through her veins, his sensuous caress making her skin tingle with longing. Her hands touched his chest, knowing they had been ordered to push him away and unable to obey.

"I can't," she moaned, "but—"

He kissed her hard and long, shutting off the protest she would have made against her own admission. Her breath came in shaking gasps when he finally lifted his head, to gaze into her love-soft eyes with satisfaction.

"Are you going to keep fighting with me?" he asked with gentle mockery. "Because if you are, I feel I should warn you that your defenses are in pretty sad shape."

"You're not being logical," Andrea murmured quietly into the warm curve of his chest, as her heart finally stopped racing.

"Now it's logic you want." His mouth curved with amusement. "Last night you asked me to have faith. I have faith."

"Blind faith?" Pain and sadness etched her questioning voice.

"Is there any other kind?" he countered lightly.

"Yes," she nodded slowly. "There's the faith that comes from understanding."

The amusement faded from his eyes as he held her gaze, a grimness tightening the line of his jaw. For what seemed like a long time, the only sound she heard was that of her own heartbeat.

"Tell?" Rosemary Collins's voice called from the hallway.

"Mother, wait a minute!" Andrea recognized the anxious voice giving the command as Nancy's.

The door to her bedroom was open. Tell hadn't closed it when he came in. Her hands found the strength to try to push him away, but he simply clasped them in his own, holding them tightly so she couldn't pull free.

"I love you, Andrea," he said, "I'm not ashamed to be seen with you."

"But your mother…"

The quick footsteps of his mother had nearly reached her door. An instant later she appeared, a smile of surprise and welcome spreading across her face at the sight of her son.

"Nancy told me you'd come back," she began, then suddenly she seemed to realize that Tell was in Andrea's bedroom. "Is something wrong? Is Andrea…is she ill? What's wrong?"

There was a long pause before the last word was weakly murmured to end the question because Tell had carried Andrea's hands to his lips, pressing an intimate kiss on the inner wrist of each in full view of his mother's gaze. The dazed look of shock that halted Rosemary's movement into the room brought a twisting lump of pain in Andrea's throat.