Stone, Katherine (17 page)

"Secondhand benefit?" Maylene echoed, aloud this time,
and hurriedly. Sam wasn't going to extinguish the cigarette until they had a
deal.

"I'd like to see more smiles from you—and fewer scowls. If
you'll give up whatever it is that makes you glower at me, even when I'm not
smoking, I'd appreciate it."

With any other man, Maylene would have taunted, You think it's
something self-destructive in
me
that makes me glower at
you?
Isn't
that a bit arrogant? Don't you think it's possible the reason I glower at you
is because of
you?

Maylene couldn't pose such questions—because Sam was right. She
glowered at him because something deep within her wondered how it would feel to
be touched by him,
loved
by him—and she was afraid to let herself find
out.

There wasn't a flicker of worry in his dark blue eyes. But surely
his flesh was beginning to burn...

"Okay!" she exclaimed. "I agree."

Sam didn't stub out his cigarette. "Smile... please."

Maylene obeyed, a wobbly smile that became a relieved one when he
extinguished the cigarette.

"Much better," Sam said.

He didn't cast even a curious glance at the place on his finger
that was burned. He could look at it later, for the rest of his life. There'd
be a scar, a permanent reminder of this day.

"I got you a—" Sam's sentence was interrupted by the
sudden appearance of Chang Lu.

The foreman of the Jade Palace was flanked by his two sons, also
members of the crew. An hour before, father and sons had looked alike—energetic
and indestructible. But Lu appeared frail now, and an eerie pallor lurked
beneath his tan.

As the sons settled their father in a chair, Sam and Maylene moved
toward him.

"Lu?" Sam asked. "What happened?"

"I don't know." The bent head gave a bewildered shake.
"It must be food poisoning."

Sam wanted to call an ambulance, but Lu refused. His sons could
take him home and his wife had herbs for all known ailments.

Sam didn't argue with him very long before turning to the sons.
"If he doesn't get better soon, he needs to see a doctor."

"He will," the eldest son concurred as he helped his
father to his feet.

Before leaving, a faint hint of Lu's wry smile touched his
pale-green face. "Are you going to be able to manage without me,
Sam?"

Sam returned the smile. "Just barely. I think I can supervise
the pouring of concrete. I'll need you back, Lu, for the tough stuff."

"I'll be back," Chang Lu vowed.

After the ill father was escorted away by his two healthy sons,
Maylene said, "I guess I'd better be going. You have concrete to pour."

"It's still being mixed. Besides, you can't leave until I
tell you the real reason I lured you over here."

"The real reason?"

"I got you a present. It's not a big deal," he assured
her as he saw her worry. "In fact, it's really more a necessity, something
you'll have to have once I start needing you all the time."

Needing you all the time.
Sam was speaking
professionally, the builder's need for his architect, but his tone conveyed
layers of meaning far beyond the demands of the hotel. Sam saw hope, as if she
wanted
him to need her in all ways, then despair—as if she believed she was
destined to disappoint.

Sam blocked the impulse to tell her she'd never disappoint him,
couldn't possibly, reminding himself that in this most important creation of
his life, he had to build slowly, carefully, lest he frighten her away.

Retrieving her present from the floor behind his desk, he
explained, "I got the box in Hong Kong, but the contents are from San
Antonio."

As Sam handed her the red cardboard box, Maylene said,
"You've been reading about Chinese customs, haven't you, cowboy?"

"Yes, ma'am," he affirmed, relieved she seemed pleased,
not offended, that he'd bothered to learn about Chinese gift-giving, even
though she was only half Chinese. "My books tell me gifts should be
wrapped in red because that symbolizes happiness and luck."

"Yes... thank you."

"You're welcome. My books also tell me that although it's
customary for the recipient not to open the gift in front of the giver, thus
saving face all around in case of a disaster, it's also acceptable for the
giver to request it be opened in his presence. Is that right?"

"You're a good reader."

"So, Jade, please open them now."

"Them?"

Her worry was returning, anxiety about what he was giving her and
uncertainty about his watching her reaction. Sam gave her elaborate hints in
advance. "A matched set, hand-tooled, custom-made, and essential for
tromping around in the mud—assuming the monsoon rains ever come—and a
must-wear, too, for climbing on steel girders. Beginning about September, you
and I are going to be doing that all day every day, until the Palace is the way
we want it to be. So... open."

They were cowboy boots. Tan like his, but unscuffed, as his had
been many years ago.

"They're beautiful, Sam."

"More importantly, they're functional. And hopefully, they're
also the right size. I took the liberty of measuring your footprints the first
day you were here."

"You did?"

"I did. There are socks in there as well, specially designed
to ensure the comfort that cowboys—and cowgirls—have come to expect."

"You think I have the makings of a cowgirl?"

"Sure," Sam answered softly.
You can be my cowgirl
any time.
"If you want to be."

She said, just as softly, "I want to be."

***

When Tyler first saw her from his office, he thought it was his
imagination come to life. During the past few weeks, he'd often stood at this
picture window, staring at Peak Castle, hoping for her sake that her marriage
was wonderful—yet fearing it was not.

Based on what? he'd demanded a thousand times. No husband could
have been more attentive than Sir Geoffrey. It was obvious to everyone how much
he loved his wife,
treasured
her. Then why had Tyler seen such sadness?

He'd wondered if he'd ever see her again. And now she was standing
at the harbor's edge, watching the activity of Grand Prix's loading docks. On
this July afternoon,
Le Mans,
the newest addition to Tyler's fleet of
oceangoing freighters, was being unloaded. With delicacy and ease, massive
cranes plucked from its hold the cargo of green, red and orange containers,
each the size of a railroad car.

Eve was in no danger. She wasn't even on Grand Prix property, but
adjacent to it, on the picturesque harborside esplanade. The lantern-lined
walkway originated at the Star Ferry Pier and ended two miles east at Grand
Prix shipyards in Hung Hom Bay.

The waterside promenade was popular, its harbor views beyond
compare, and at either end of the day, it was crowded. In the coolness of dawn,
the slow-motion gracefulness of tai chi practiced by locals provided a sublime
counterpoint to the fast-paced jogging of fitness-addicted foreigners.
Early-morning jogging among its business guests was so predictable that the
Regent's white-gloved doormen greeted the exercisers with towels on their
return.

In the evening, the lamplit esplanade belonged to lovers.

In the heat of the day, however, the walkway was usually empty,
and regardless of the hour, almost no one journeyed to its farthest and most
industrial reaches—except for Tyler, who lived at the Regent and walked to
work.

But on this hot July afternoon, Lady Lloyd-Ashton was here alone,
far from all prying eyes—save his.

***

Since the second week of her marriage, no matter how bruised her
body or how aching her heart, on Mondays and Thursdays the Princess of Peak
Castle appeared in public. Twice weekly was the proper amount of exposure,
Geoffrey had decided, the appropriate balance between regal mystique and
noblesse oblige.

Sometimes Eve simply wandered. More often, she had an itinerary
provided by Geoffrey.

Go to the Jade Market, Eve. Buy a trinket, something small, but be
sure it's real. I don't want you embarrassing me.

You're meeting the governor's wife at one for lunch at Pierrot.
Don't be late, and if the subject of schooling comes up, yours was at home with
a governess.

Dr. Kingsley will see you at three. I want you back on birth
control pills. You'll just have to find a way to cope with the headaches.

Eve was grateful that Geoffrey's mandate was for only two days
away from the castle. Except for her volunteer work at the hospital and her
appointments at Pearl Moon, she anticipated such days with dread. As welcoming
as the people of Hong Kong were, she hated being on display and lived in
perpetual fear of committing a social faux pas that would annoy her husband.

Geoffrey would inevitably learn of such a social misstep. Lady
Lloyd-Ashton sightings were published in the society columns of local papers.
Early on, he'd decreed that every article and all photographs of Eve were to be
submitted to him, for his approval, in advance of publication. It was a
profound infringement on the freedom of the Hong Kong press. But when the
territory's most powerful taipan issued an edict, even the journalists
complied.

Today Eve had wandered to this remote place at harbor's edge,
and—like the sanctuary of Children's Hospital and time spent with Juliana at
Pearl Moon—it felt like a safe haven.

***

"Lady Lloyd-Ashton."

"Mr. Vaughn."

"Are you thinking about stowing away?" The gentle
teasing caused a frown, as if she'd once imagined such a daring escape. Gently
still, but no longer teasing, Tyler asked, "Do you come here often, Lady
Lloyd-Ashton?"

"No, never before. I had lunch at the Peninsula today, then
stopped by the construction site, then just kept walking."
To you.
"Please
call me Eve."

"And I'm Tyler. Is Eve short for Evangeline?"

"No, just Eve. I like Evangeline, though."

"So do I. It seems right for you."

"Oh! Thank you."

She liked the idea of being Evangeline, Tyler thought. But she
couldn't really imagine being anyone but Eve. "You're not working at the
hospital today?"

"No. I'm only there on Monday mornings."

Remembering Cynthia's petulant remark that her volunteer work at
the hospital was merely for show—and not believing it—he offered, "You
enjoy working there, don't you?"

"Yes." Happiness lighted her eyes. "I'd work there
every day if—"

If what?
Tyler wondered. If your days weren't
filled with more important things, like teas and luncheons with Hong Kong's
other
tai tais?

No, he decided. Few—if any—engagements were more important to Eve
than her mornings at the hospital.

If what,
then? If Geoffrey
let
you? The
disturbing thought was followed by an astonishing one. If you were my wife,
Evangeline, and I knew something made you so happy, I'd move heaven and earth
to give it to you.

My wife.
The words had not, until this moment,
existed in his personal dictionary. "If what, Eve?"

Perhaps it was the intimacy of his voice that made her look away,
or perhaps she'd somehow read his thought. Whatever the reason, she gazed out
at the harbor, its waters molten gold in the afternoon sun.

She
had
to look away. She'd wanted to tell him the shameful
truth. What if she told him the only reason Geoffrey wanted her was because she
resembled a ghost? And that he didn't care, had never cared, about
her?
What
would happen then?

Nothing.
Nothing.
Geoffrey would never let her go.

"It's late." Too late for me, for us. Leaving the
glittering waves, but not quite meeting his glittering eyes, she said,
"I'd better go. It was nice seeing you again, Tyler."

"It was nice seeing you, too, Eve."

As Eve began the journey to her castle—and to the man who,
perhaps, didn't care about her happiness—she held her head high. And her
posture was perfect. But it seemed to Tyler that she was fighting to keep her
fragile body from being crushed.

"Evangeline."

It was a whisper on the afternoon breeze, and like a tropical
zephyr, it shimmered with heat.

For a breathless moment everything stopped, the dappled gold
waves, the balmy breeze, his pounding heart. Then she turned, as though in slow
motion.

"Come sailing with me."

How can I? How can I not? "When?"

"Whenever you want." Tyler walked toward her, crossing
the line into the forbidden, unwilling not to. "Today, tomorrow, the next
day. Whenever you want."

Tyler saw her emotion, the struggle between hope and despair, and
realized he'd seen it before. "You're not afraid of flying, are you?"