Sycamore Hill (19 page)

“We will have cake with coffee after my son’s lessons,” Reva said.
“Diego, go and bring your books,
por favor.”

“Sí,
mama.” He went quickly. When he returned, we set to work. I had
brought several books with me, as well as work sheets and writing materials. I
assigned enough to keep him busy for the week, keeping him up with the same
assignments I had given the others at his level. But Diego was hungry for more,
and after watching him work, I knew that I would have to go at a quicker pace
with him. His desire to learn was great.

Promising to send for more materials and books, I warned him it
might be some time before I was able to get them from the East. My own funds
were low until I received my next month’s salary, and I did not want to ask
Reva Gutierrez for money. I thought of going to Jordan Bennett and asking if
Diego could use the books I had seen on several shelves in the living room. But
I was already overly aware of Bennett’s animosity toward me, and I was afraid
that I might make things even more difficult if I were to dare ask him a favor.
Perhaps he would offer the boy the materials.

After sharing a piece of Reva’s delicious confection and accepting
a cup of strong black coffee, I had to leave. It was a long ride back to town,
and it was already well past two o’clock. I wished I could linger and get to
know Reva, who was a charming, though reticent hostess. Linda had said little,
but seemed well pleased to have me on the ranch. Only Diego was talkative and
full of questions.

The boy walked out with me to the front of the house. The gelding
was there with an empty bucket next to a mounting block. I wondered who had put
both there. Tying my skirt, I mounted the horse and gave Diego a wave and I
drew around.

I was well across the yard when a familiar voice hailed me. I
reluctantly drew in and waited, forcing my face to a calmness I was far from
feeling.

“I noticed the horse was tied to the front railing this time,”
Jordan taunted as he came up to stand next to me. I flushed at his unkind reminder
of my last arrival at the ranch. As if I were likely to forget, I thought in
exasperation. But I gave a self-conscious laugh.

“Yes, well, I made sure he had plenty to eat before we left town
this morning.” Somehow, I managed to sound calm, though my heart was doing
calisthenics as it always did whenever I looked at Jordan Bennett. He was tall,
and the horse with its slightly swayed back had me just above his head. I felt
the position put me on a slight advantage, though not nearly enough of one.

“He still managed to down a tidy amount of oats,” Jordan
commented, and I noted the twitching muscle in his cheek. I always felt a fool
when I was around this man. It was easier to laugh at him than allow myself to
be the brunt of his joke.

“Who do you suppose is responsible for keeping the schoolyard
trimmed to the ground?” I asked, smiling slightly. Jordan Bennett laughed. My
senses stumbled to a stop and then lurched forward again. He looked so young
and reckless when he laughed like that. His eyes were bright, all their usual
mockery and hostility gone. I wished my pulse would slow down.

“Studebaker told me the plug was a hay-burner,” Bennett commented.

I blinked, hardly aware of what he was saying, but watching the
change of his expression with a mesmerized gaze. He stopped and looked at me.
Neither of us said anything for a moment, and then he frowned.

“How long did it take you to ride out here this morning?” he
asked.

“A... about two hours,” I answered warily. His mouth had tightened
fractionally, and there was an odd glimmer in his blue eyes.

“Did anyone see you leaving town?”

“I didn’t pay any attention,” I answered truthfully. And then I
added lightly, “Should I have been looking over my shoulder the whole way?” My
attempt at joviality irritated him.

“That might not have been such a bad idea,” he commented dryly.

“If anyone had asked me, I would have said I was taking a ride,” I
told him, realizing that he was worried that someone would stop me from
teaching Diego.

“For seven hours?” he snorted derisively. “What are you going to
say when you’re asked about that, Miss McFarland? Or why the schoolhouse isn’t
spotless and disinfected for the coming school week?”

“What makes you think the schoolhouse isn’t spotless, Mr.
Bennett?” I queried with a daring smile. “You may inspect it anytime you like.”

“Anytime? ...” He provoked me with an insinuating smile. His
expression made the color flood my cheeks, and I longed for some quick-witted
answer that would wipe the smirk from his handsome face.

“When did you find time to clean that old haunt?” he asked, after
a disturbing study of my red face.

“I’m an early riser,” I answered tautly. “I’m sure I’m keeping you
from your work, Mr. Bennett. So if you will excuse me,” I said, loosening the
reins in my stiff fingers. His hand came up and covered mine, pushing them down
onto the saddle horn. His other hand rested on the cantle. He was much too
close for my liking.

“How’s Ross Persall these days?” he asked with deceptive softness.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Not you too!” I sighed in exasperation,
unwarranted except that I wanted him to move away. I pulled my hands from
beneath his. Then I didn’t know where to put them and curled them tightly into
fists as I crossed my arms over my abdomen.

Jordan watched my agitated movements and smiled slightly. He eased
forward, resting his arm across the horse’s back. My knee was against his
chest, and I shifted restlessly in the saddle. My color was rising again in
embarrassment at his proximity. “Why are you looking so nervous?” he taunted.

“I’ve nothing to be nervous about,” I snapped.

“What did you mean by your comment? Have you been receiving
warnings from other people?”

“Emily Olmstead said something about Mr. Persall having a
questionable reputation.”

“There’s no question about Ross Persall’s reputation.” Jordan
grinned. He need not have added that it was as bad as Emily ascribed.

“I’ve only met the man a few times. Why all the fuss?”

“I suppose any warning you receive about him will only make you
seek him out,” Jordan commented unpleasantly.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that whatever you’re told to do, you do the opposite,” he
said grimly.

“Maybe it’s how and why I’m asked, Mr. Bennett,” I managed to say
coolly. “And I think it’s time I said good day and allowed you to get back to
your work,” I rattled, my hands going again to the reins when he had moved away
from the horse. But quickly Jordan captured my hands in one easy movement, and
when I tried to pull away, his fingers tightened painfully.

“Not so fast,” he said under his breath. “You don’t dismiss me
like one of your students.” He moved his other hand from the cantle.

“What are you doing?” I gasped in alarm, my eyes widening in my
pale face as I felt his hand slide beneath my skirt and curve tightly around my
ankle. Through the leather of my high-buttoned shoes I could feel the strength
of his fingers.

“You have slender ankles,” he commented with a smile. “What’s the
matter, Miss McFarland? Haven’t you ever been touched by a man before?”

“Let me go,” I managed through the constriction in my chest. My
voice wavered and sounded raspy with tension.

Jordan Bennett’s hand moved upward in answer. When it contacted
the smooth skin of my calf, I jerked, intending to kick out at him, heedless of
any consequences. His fingers caught my ankle, stopping my defense.

“I’ll bet you’re soft all over.” He grinned.

“I’m not very good at parlor games, Mr. Bennett,” I answered,
shaking.

“If that’s true, you’d be wise to stay away from Ross Persall.
Parlor games are his favorite pastime.” His face was hard, and his eyes blazed.
He released me abruptly, and, free of his disturbing touch, my courage
returned.

“I’d be even wiser, Mr. Bennett, if I stayed away from you,” I
said coldly. His mouth twisted derisively as he hooked his thumbs into his belt
and stood with his legs splayed.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Miss McFarland,” he returned
smoothly. “However, since you promised to see to Diego’s lessons every
Saturday, you’ve made that virtually impossible. We’re going to see quite a lot
of one another over the next few months. And believe it or not, I look forward
to it!”

“Oh, I’ll just bet you do!” I cried, thinking what fun it was for
him to ridicule me. “Perhaps Diego should ride to the schoolhouse. I could
carry on his lessons there.”

“Oh, no, my dear.” He shook his head. “I like this arrangement
very well. It puts you in the exact position that I want you.”

“And where’s that?”

“On the crumbling edge of a yawning precipice.” He grinned. “And
you aren’t the least bit sure-footed, are you?” I remembered our first meeting
and fumed.

“I’m watching where I’m going now.”

“Are you? Are you indeed?” He laughed low and unpleasantly. “It’s
only a matter of time until you’re found out. And you’ll get dismissed two
minutes after that happens.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I defended my actions.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You’re going about everything
wrong. And you’re creating a maelstrom of trouble as you go.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bennett shook his head, making another low, throaty laugh. “You do
know,” he disagreed scornfully.

I was beginning to feel very confused. My senses were telling me
one thing, while my mind was telling me another. Why didn’t I just ride away
from this man? Why was I sitting here, allowing him to plant so many seeds of
doubt in my mind? I knew the school board would be furious if they ever found
out about my weekly trips to Eden Rock on Diego Gutierrez’s behalf, but I had
resolved that in my own mind. My efforts to help Diego were not interfering with
my duties. So there should be no objection to what I did with my own time.

“I can’t see how things could have worked out any different from
the way they have,” I defended myself. “What I do with my Saturdays should be
my own concern... not the school board’s or yours, Mr. Bennett.”

“The schoolmistress is to mirror the opinions and dictates of the
school board,” Jordan said flatly.

“Even if I don’t happen to agree with them?” I snapped, my voice
higher than normal.

“You should keep your disagreements to yourself. It’d be good
practice in self-control.”

I ignored the glint in his eyes. “And what about Diego?”

“What about Diego?” he demanded.

“You know very well what I mean about Diego,” I retorted. “A
protest could have been leveled against the board’s decision.”

“By whom?” I asked wryly. “You?”

“You can be very insulting, did you know that?” he uttered in a
baleful tone, his eyes narrowing unpleasantly. “Don’t you think I’d fight for
my own son, Miss McFarland?” he went on sarcastically. His face grew hard as
his temper rose. I remembered his previous outburst and realized the
incautiousness of my question.

“I’m sorry,” I said lamely. I thought of what Ellen Greer had
asserted. There was no physical resemblance between Diego and Jordan Bennett,
yet the boy shared mannerisms of the older man. I did not want to think about
that, for it aroused other questions. If Diego was Jordan Bennett’s son, what
was Jordan’s relationship with Reva Gutierrez now? Surely the woman would not
stay if she had been scorned. So that implied that the relationship was an
ongoing one. That thought hurt me, and I did not want to analyze my reasons for
caring what Jordan Bennett did.

“You
have
confirmed in your own mind that Diego is my son,”
Jordan said, his mouth curling cynically.

“Do you want me to doubt it?” I had intended to sound flippant,
but the words came out almost pleadingly. He muttered a harsh sound.

“No. You go ahead and believe what you want.”

“I’m not trying to interfere—”

“It’s a little late for that,” he interrupted. “You made a promise
to the boy, and I’m going to see that you keep it.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary,” I said, stung. “I don’t make a
habit of breaking promises.”

“Then you’ll be the first woman I’ve known who doesn’t,” he
sneered.

“That doesn’t say much for the women you’ve known, Mr. Bennett,” I
retorted.

He laughed haughtily. “I’ve known quite a few.”

I liked that statement even less than all the others put together.
“Well, you don’t know me!”

Jordan Bennett looked at me, allowing his eyes to move slowly over
my face, lingering for an instant on my mouth and then trailing down to dwell
purposefully on my breasts rising and falling with my indignation.

“Not yet, perhaps, Miss McFarland.” He smiled slowly.

“Not ever,” I asserted definitively and encouraged the gelding to
move out.