Rexanne Becnel (22 page)

“Don’t cry, Lacie. Come on, now. I swear to God, I didn’t realize you were a—that you had never lain with a man before.”

But that only made her cry harder.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

“But it is!” she sobbed. “I’m ruined forever.”

She heard his sigh of frustration as she buried her face against his bare chest. Then he firmly took hold of her shoulders and gave her a little shake.

“You’re not ruined at all. Besides, no one expects a widow to be a virgin.”

His words sobered her at once, and she raised her tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze. Was that what this was all about? she wondered in a new, dawning horror. If she were truly Frederick’s widow, she would not have been an untried maiden. Was last night only a way for him to prove once and for all that she was a liar?

A cold wave of dread washed over her as she stared up into his enigmatic eyes. Could any man be so cruel? Could he? She wanted to believe it was impossible, and yet—

“So you’ve found me out,” she whispered very quietly.

His jaw tightened ever so slightly, and he took a long, slow breath. “I found out.” His eyes seemed to become opaque. “Now am I going to get an explanation?”

A knife seemed to pierce to the very center of her heart. She could hardly breathe for the crushing pressure in her chest. Still, she knew that unless she could explain her maidenly state after having been married, she could lose the school entirely.

“Frederick…” She faltered, then raised her eyes resolutely to him. “Your brother was ill.”

When Dillon only stared at her, she hesitated again. For once she was certain she could read his every emotion. He knew she was lying and it only made him angry. But there was no other way for her. She took a breath.

“He was ill, and besides, you’ve already said he didn’t…he didn’t care for women. Not like other men do.” Her cheeks burned with color. “I don’t see why my virginity should be so surprising.”

“Don’t make it any worse than it is,” he said in a cold, unemotional voice.

She had tried to steel herself against his doubting stare. But she was not impervious to the pain as his glare turned to disgust, then something akin to disappointment.

No, not disappointment, she told herself. For he’d wanted to prove his claim from the beginning. Now he had.

When she pulled away from him he did not stop her. As she fumbled with the rumpled sheet, trying to wrap herself in it, he only watched her. Lacie could hardly think, her emotions were so destroyed by this new and bitter understanding. He was truly a man without a heart, bent only on his own gratification. And he’d received twofold from her performance last night. She was trembling with hurt and humiliation when she finally struggled to her feet.

“I’d like you to leave now,” she managed to say.

“Why?”

At that cruel taunt she glared at him. “Get out!”

“There’s no reason we can’t establish a new relationship between us, Lacie. I think it’s obvious that both of us will enjoy it.”

In horror Lacie stared at him. “I will not be a—a—a
whore for you!”

“Dammit! Would you stop being so melodramatic? A mistress is a far cry from a
whore.”

“They’re the same thing. They just have different names,” she insisted as she backed away from him.

Dillon rose to his feet as well, clearly angered by her furious rejection. “Where in the hell is all this moral rectitude coming from? You’re the same little liar—and thief—that has been trying to steal my property from me. Now you’re balking at an honest offer to keep you well clothed, well housed, and well fed, all in exchange for a little honest affection!”

“I—I am not a
whore,” she maintained, but in a decidedly weaker tone. He had her dead to rights, she realized. He had no reason to think any better of her. But that did not ease the anguish that enveloped her.

“Listen, Lacie,” he said more calmly as he followed her step by step across the room. “I know you’re not—” He exhaled noisily. “I know you have your morals. And believe it or not, I have mine too.”

“Does that include ruining this school? Robbing all of us of our livelihoods just because you want this house? Why don’t you just admit that you don’t really want this school? It’s just a financial drain and even the property isn’t that valuable. You only want it because it was Frederick’s—and your father’s!”

Her words stopped him cold, as if she’d finally struck a nerve. For an endless moment he simply stared at her, his eyes narrowed to slits beneath his lowered brows. Then he spoke and his voice was icy with anger.

“My reasons for wanting this place are none of your concern. Nor are they in question here. It’s your motives that are under scrutiny. I think it’s clear that you are the one motivated by greed. You saw a good thing, and when Frederick died, you decided to claim it.”

“Yes, I claimed it. But not for greed. I’m a teacher! Frederick loved this school and so do I. Even though it’s losing money, I want to preserve it.”

“Even now you’re still lying! Dammit, woman! I would respect you a hell of a lot more if you’d just be honest! You may want this school, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. When you claimed to have married Frederick, it wasn’t to get this house, this land, or even this stupid charm school. Hell! If I’d believed it was only that, I would have given it to you gladly! No”—he shook his head all the while keeping his angry, glittering stare on her—“you wanted it all and there was no way I was going to let you have it. I offered you a way out. A compromise. But you refused.” His eyes ran boldly over her, and one of his brows lifted arrogantly—insultingly. “I recommend you give it further consideration.”

Lacie was so outraged by his effrontery and by his vulgar appraisal that she was momentarily speechless. Her mind struggled to find the right words, the most cutting and cruel response possible. But before she could respond he took a long, slow breath.

“You’re on shaky ground, Lacie. So think twice before you find yourself with nothing and with no place to go.” Then he turned away from her, and without any concern for his completely inappropriate attire, quit the room.

In the still, oppressive aftermath, Lacie trembled in absolute fury. With no outlet for her consuming anger she could only stand where she was, shaking uncontrollably as she held the linen sheet up to her neck.

He was the most horrible man in the entire world! A villain with no limits to his cruelty! He’d used her in the most unfeeling manner. He’d taken her virginity and broken her heart, and all because he wanted Sparrow Hill. Now that he’d proven her a liar he was going to take over the school, and all of her efforts would be for naught.

Like a wooden puppet, numbed by shock, she moved slowly to the méridienne to sit down. But then she jerked back from the velvet-covered piece. Too vividly, everything they’d done on that wide upholstered burgundy seat played back in her mind. The way he’d held her. The way he’d kissed her and touched her. Unbidden, a tingle warmed her body, and she abruptly turned away from the solid chaise longue.

He’d planned it all, every whisper, every touch, just to get his way. And she’d been foolish enough to give in.

Tears stung the backs of her eyelids as she thought of how easily he’d duped her. With his easy smile and smooth lines, he had lured her in, much as a fisherman might pull in an exhausted fish. Oh, he was too evil to believe. Why, she’d even been idiotic enough to think he might be relenting just because he’d not said anything to anyone in Kimbell about Frederick’s unnatural leanings. She should have known better.

If he hadn’t said anything about Frederick it was because he was afraid no one would believe him. Now, however, he had something new and better to reveal. After all, gossip about the living was always more appealing than gossip about the dead.

Lacie sat down on the bed and drew her feet up beside her. What would he say? What would he tell his lawyer to do?

A tear slid down one cheek but she angrily brushed it aside. Whatever he said she would deny, she decided. Then her bowed back straightened a little. How could he prove she was an untried virgin? It would only be his word against hers. In fact—she stood up and nervously began to pace—in fact, he had no more proof about her than he’d had about Frederick. It was all just so many threats. As long as she stood her ground, he was no better off than he’d been before.

Except that he’d taken something from her that she could never have back again.

Lacie wrapped her arms about herself, shivering a little despite the warm morning. She’d been a fool. She’d gambled and lost. But not entirely. If she could just be strong she might still win Sparrow Hill. He expected her to fold, to cave in. But she would deny everything. She tried not to think about how adept she’d become at lying. It just couldn’t be helped.

But what if he still ruined her reputation? What if no one would send their daughters to Sparrow Hill after he slandered her?

Lacie sighed. She might still lose the school, but not without a fight.

Determined to fight him, she moved to the walnut highboy she had taken over and found a clean chemise and a pair of plain linen drawers. As she dropped the sheet, however, she saw bloodstains on it, and she stiffened. Yes, the evidence was there, but she’d quickly cleanse it away. Then she’d fight him more fiercely than ever. He thought Sparrow Hill was a foolish venture, a money-losing “charm school”? Well, she’d show him, she vowed as she recalled his cruel and biting words. He’d even had the nerve to say that if he had believed her—if!—he’d have given her the school.

Suddenly, in the midst of tying on her drawers, Lacie paused. He would have given her the school if he’d believed her? That made no sense at all, for wasn’t it Sparrow Hill that he was fighting her for? And then he’d said it was only the tip of the iceberg.

For a moment she frowned, pondering his confusing words. Then, in a mind-boggling rush, the terrible truth became clear. She could do nothing but stand there, her mouth opened in a little circle, her eyes staring but not really seeing. He hadn’t wanted Sparrow Hill at all. He probably
would
have given it to her, she realized with a mixture of horror and awe as the reality of the situation struck home. Frederick had supplemented the school’s income from other sources—she knew that after going over the school’s financial records. But only now did she see that it was those other sources that Dillon really wanted.

The tip of the iceberg.
Once more his words reeled through her mind. Frederick must have been far richer than she’d known. Far, far richer, indeed.

Lacie finished dressing almost mechanically. Stockings, corset, chemise, petticoat, skirt, and matching bodice. Her mind was spinning with too many thoughts to even notice her clothes. Only when she glanced perfunctorily at herself in Frederick’s triple tailor’s mirror did she realize she’d forgotten to don mourning clothes. Still, what did that matter? she decided cynically. The truth was out—at least between her and Dillon. He knew she’d lied. And now she knew that he had lied too.

She lifted her chin a notch and stared boldly at her reflection. What she saw brought her both satisfaction and pain. She’d always loved this dress, for the striped tone-on-tone teal-blue cambric flattered her eyes well. And the snug-fitting pointed-basque waist gave her a decidedly shapely appearance. Yet despite that, Lacie was hardly pleased.

Anyone would surely be able to tell, simply by looking at her, that she was no longer intact. Why, it was obvious, she thought as she drew nearer the mirror. The color in her face was too high. Her lips were a deep rose color, full and tender looking. Even her eyes…

She let out a soft cry of despair and turned away from the heartless mirror. This was something that would never go away. She could never be an honest woman, or go to a husband unsullied.

But then, there was no man she wanted to marry. Except perhaps the very one who’d ruined her.

“No!” Her sharp denial restored her anger and buried her weak and self-pitying thoughts. She could not change what had happened, but she could make him very sorry he’d ever decided to play his hateful game with her. Vindictiveness was a sin, she knew. But she could not feel otherwise.

She took up her hairbrush and attacked her tangled hair with a vengeance. She would call his bluff, she thought spitefully. She would dare him to prove she wasn’t Frederick’s widow and taunt him with the fact that he could not prove either of his accusations, neither about Frederick nor about herself.

Impatient to confront him, she abandoned her unruly hair and only tied it back from her face with a black grosgrain ribbon. Then she found her shoes and hurried toward the door.

But once she opened it, Lacie was gripped with a crippling fear. She could not face him yet. She simply could not!

In anguish she closed the door, then leaned miserably against it. It was easy to be brave and angry and self-righteous when alone in her room. But could she face him? Could she face that mocking, knowing look and still maintain her control? Could she stare into his vivid green eyes and bury her pain—and any weakness she still felt for him—beneath a cool and composed facade?

She bit her lips in consternation trying to muster her courage. Then she saw his shirt lying in the corner—gray, ruined, forgotten in their passion last night. He’d risked his life in that shirt. He’d saved the horses and his friend.

But he’d turned around and destroyed her.

It was then that the tears came, cruel and hard, in hot burning sobs. She shook with pain and disappointment and a hollowness that seemed to consume her. He’d deceived her and led her on when all he had wanted was another weapon to use against her. It shouldn’t matter, she tried to tell herself as her bowed head leaned against the closed door. It shouldn’t matter because he meant nothing to her. Nothing at all.

But that was not true. No matter how much she might deny her feelings for him, her heart nonetheless ached cruelly. She was empty and drained inside, a hollow shell that once had hoped for fulfillment. Now it would never be.

Only half of the barn remained. The back wall and part of one side, plus most of the roof, had collapsed before the rains had extinguished the flames. Now it was a gray scorched wasteland, a pile of splintered timbers framed within the stark, roofless walls. Lacie gripped the gallery rail as she stared toward the barn. The fire had finally been defeated, but at what a cost! She was not sure it could even be repaired. It might be better simply to tear it down and rebuild it anew.