The Gentling (13 page)

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Trace interjected. "We'll entertain occasionally, a few close relatives and friends, but nothing on the scale of the parties that my father and Saundra gave. I prefer a more quiet life, and I think Katy does also." He waved his hand in an encompassing gesture. "This party tonight is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion."

Katy sent him a grateful smile. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, i don't think I could endure this sort of thing too often."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to. I've no intention of getting caught up in a mad social whirl. That was part of my quarrel with my father, one of the reasons why I left the farm four years ago. Our priorities didn't mesh at all. His idea of what was important and mine were diametrically opposed."

Katy looked up at him, surprised. This was the first time he had mentioned the quarrel with his father. Though she didn't want to believe it, she couldn't help but wonder if his other reason for leaving had to do with Saundra.

"I echo my daughter's thanks, Trace," Tom said in a relieved tone. "She informed me tonight I'd have to attend whatever parties you two hosted, and I'll confess I wasn't looking forward to becoming a social butterfly at this late stage in life."

Trace laughed aloud at the look of outright distaste on the older man's face. "We'll make it as easy on you as we can, Tom."

Katy felt as though a load had been lifted from her shoulders. Smiling, she turned her head to speak to Jane and froze, the words dying on her lips as she caught sight of Saundra making her way toward them, her arms linked familiarly with the two men on either side of her. Shock widened Katy's eyes and drained every hint of color from her face. Her features working convulsively, she began to shake her head from side to side, a stark, mindless terror gripping her.

The violent tremors shaking her body were transmitted to Trace through his encircling arm, and he looked down at her quickly, alarm leaping into his eyes at her tormented expression.

"My God! What is it, Katy? What's wrong?" he demanded in a frantic voice.

But Katy was incapable of speech. Looking at her panic-stricken face, Trace realized she hadn't even heard him. Fear had her by the throat; she was oblivious to everything else. When she tried to back away Trace wouldn't let her, his arms tightening protectively around her as his eyes made an urgent, sweeping search of the room, seeking the cause of her distress.

It was then he noticed Tom's aggressive stance. His huge frame was taut and poised menacingly. His hands were bunched into tight fists at his sides. A low, vicious growl rumbled from the older man's chest. He was like a wild animal tensing for attack.

Trace tracked Tom's murderous gaze to the approaching trio, then swung back sharply, his eyes narrowing in dawning comprehension. His face grew hard, his body stiffening as he unconsciously drew Katy nearer.

"They're the ones, aren't they?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

Both Jane and Frank looked at him in wary confusion, sensing the deadly threat in his tone and wondering at the cause. Wisely, both remained silent.

"Yes." Tom spat the word out. His rage was almost a tangible thing.

"Trace, darling. Look who's here," Saundra called, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

Paralyzed with fear, Katy stared at the two men, bile rising in her throat as she met their nasty, knowing smiles. Never, never would she forget those faces. At the moment they wore the haughty, bored look common among the idle rich in Saundra's social circle, but Katy could still see the vicious anger that had twisted those aristocratic features three years ago, the terrible, ugly violence that had flared out of control. Tearing her eyes away, she tried to force back the ghastly, terrifying memories, but it was no use. She could feel their eyes on her, and her skin crawled.

There was no remorse in them, no apology, no guilt. They didn't even bother to hide their amusement, their vindictive, slightly lustful eyes sliding insultingly over her.

"This is Vince Wilby and Edgar Hollis. Two very dear, very close friends of Katy's," Saundra continued in an insinuating voice. Her smile grew wider when her attention switched to the ashen-faced girl in Trace's arms, her brows arching in feigned surprise. "Why, whatever is the matter, Katy? Don't tell me you're shy? Surely not! Not after the . . . ah . . . intimate relationship you shared with Vince and Edgar a few years ago?"

The poisonous innuendo tore an anguished cry from Katy's throat. Turning blindly, she buried her face against Trace's chest.

His hand came up to cradle the back of her head and press her closer as he strained to absorb the convulsive shudders that racked her slender frame. Burning anger radiated from him in white-hot waves.

"Did you invite these men here?" His eyes stabbed through Saundra with the deadly precision of cold steel.

Saundra could not ignore the barely leashed fury in his tone, or the protective way he held the frightened girl in his arms. Her carefully made-up face grew hard, her eyes glittering with hatred. AH pretense of friendliness was dropped.

"Yes!" she flared defiantly. "Did you really think I'd just stand by calmly and watch you make a fool of yourself by marrying this . . . this nobody? She's noth ing but a cheap tramp. Just ask Vince and Edgar. They can tell you. . . ."

"Shut up, Saundra," Trace snarled.

"No! I won't shut up! Did you know that your precious fiancee is nothing but a tawdry little tease? That only a few years ago she deliberately lured poor Vince and Edgar here into the woods and—"

"That's enough!" Trace's hard-boned face was white with anger, his nostrils pinched, his mouth a hard line.

A muscle twitching in his cheek warned of his tenuous control over the rage building within him. "I have never hit a woman in my life," he grated through clenched teeth. "But I swear to you, Saundra, you say one more word against Katy and I'll slap you silly."

Saundra blanched and stepped back. It was no bluff, and she knew it.

The two men at her side stirred restlessly, their eyes shifting with uncertainty between Saundra and Trace. The leering grins had disappeared.

Very slowly, with dangerous deliberation, Trace turned to Jane and handed Katy into her care. "Take her to the study and give her some brandy, will you? I'll be there just as soon as I've cleared out the vermin."

He turned his cold, implacable gaze on Saundra. "You've got exactly thirty minutes to pack your bags and get out. If you're not gone by then, I'll throw you out bodily, with a great deal of pleasure."

"You can't do this to me!" she protested angrily. "This is my home!"

"Correction. This is my home. And you're no longer welcome here."

Saundra sputtered and fumed for a moment, but Trace's hard, unblinking stare finally silenced her. With one last, furious glare in Katy's direction, she spun on her heel and stalked out.

Vince and Edgar turned to follow, but Trace stopped them. His voice was ominously soft, an unmistakable, steely threat running through the velvet tones.

"Oh, no. I think not. We have some unfinished business, I believe." He bared his teeth in a travesty of a smile as he met their startled glances. There was no doubt of his intent.

"Now see here," the man called Vince began to bluster. His eyes darted nervously to his companion for support. "If you think we're going to stand still for this . . ."

"I don't think. I know." Trace's voice cut across his protest like a well-honed axe. The finality in his tone was chilling.

Stepping to one side, he gestured toward the patio doors. "Shall we step outside. Unless, of course, you'd like me to wipe up the floor with you right here in front of the other guests."

The two men turned a sickly gray, perspiration beading their faces. Edgar Hollis swallowed hard and ran one finger around the inside of his collar. "Come now, Mr. Barnett, can't we talk this over? There's no need for violence."

"Oh, there's a need, all right," Trace assured him, softly, dangerously. "I feel a fierce need."

Shrugging out of his jacket, he handed it to Frank, his eyes never leaving the two cowering men. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. "Now, you two can either walk out that door in the next five seconds, or I'll haul you both out by the scruff of the neck. The choice is yours."

"Do you need any help?" Frank asked as the two men moved reluctantly toward the door. Having heard the story from his wife, Frank had worked out the reason for Trace and Tom's anger, and his own slow-rising temper had flared hotly.

"Thanks, but no. This privilege belongs solely to Tom and me. "Trace smiled and looked at his future father-in-law, his eyes glowing with anticipation. "I think we can handle this. Don't you, Tom?"

Tom brightened instantly. He rubbed his hands together, a slow, eager smile splitting his face. "You know it, lad. You know it."

Katy could barely recall being led through the crowd of interested spectators, or drinking the glass of brandy Frank had pressed into her hand. Reaction had set in. She lay curled in a tight bail on the leather sofa in Trace's study, her fist jammed against her mouth. Her eyes were strangely blank and her skin looked like alabaster. She made no sound. No move.

Jane sat beside her on the couch and stroked the silky black hair away from Katy's temple. Her eyes were clouded with worry. Now and then her gaze sought her husband, as he paced restlessly up and down the room, but neither said a word.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door was thrust open and Trace entered. His eyes went immediately to the huddled figure on the couch. In three long strides he crossed the room and knelt beside her. There was a slight tremor in the hand that gently cupped her face.

"Are you all right, darling?" he asked with soft urgency. His gaze roamed restlessly over her face, worry and concern tightening his rugged features.

His words seemed to break through the trance that held her. Katy turned her head slowly and gave him an anguished look. Her chin quivering, she closed her eyes against the threatening tears and nodded.

In the next instant Trace stood up and gathered her into his arms, then sank back onto the couch and settled her on his lap, hugging her close. Neither noticed when Jane and Frank slipped discreetly out the door and closed it behind them.

Trace rocked Katy back and forth, his hands roaming soothingly over her body as he pressed soft kisses over her face. Katy, feeling truly safe at last, burrowed deeper into the security of his warm embrace.

"Oh, Katy," Trace breathed raggedly against her temple. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. If I had only known what she was up to, I would have put a stop to it. But I can promise you, nothing like that will ever happen again. Saundra is gone from our lives for good, and after tonight her two friends won't dare show their faces around here again."

Something in his tone sent a shaft of fear through her, and Katy grew still. Slowly, she pulled back and searched his face with wide, apprehensive eyes. For the first time, she noticed his hair was disarrayed, and there was a tiny cut at the corner of his mouth. When he lifted his hand to stroke the side of her face she saw that his knuckles were scraped and bleeding, and her stomach clenched sickeningly.

"What did you do to them, Trace?" she whispered.

He grinned. "Your father and I gave them just a small portion of the punishment they deserved," he said with hard satisfaction.

"My father? You let my father fight them? Trace! How could you? He's an old man. He could have been seriously hurt!"

Trace laughed heartily. "Katy, love, Tom may be sixty-three, but he's as strong as a bull." His eyes twinkled at her. "I'm just glad he was on my side."

Katy stared at him, appalled. There was an aura of suppressed excitement about him, a triumphant joy at having beaten two men senseless, and she found it terrifying. Were all men the same? Did they all find violence exciting? The thought sent a cold trickle down her spine.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" she burst out agitatedly, unable to hide the bitter accusation in her voice. "You enjoyed it, and that makes you no better than those two men."

"Katy!" Trace looked as though she had slapped him. He stared at her with disbelieving eyes. "Katy, you're not frightened of me, are you?" he asked finally, and groaned when she nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, a look of intense pain flickering across his face. "Oh, Katy," he whispered sadly. "Don't you know I'd never hurt you? Never! You have to believe that, darling. You have to."

Katy's heart thumped with a slow, heavy beat. She looked at him uncertainly. Did she dare trust him? She had always been frightened by his raw masculinity, his overwhelming virility, but this new threat was even worse. What if he became angry or frustrated when their marriage remained platonic, as she fully intended it would? Would he turn violent? Did she dare risk that? The wedding was only three weeks away. If she was going to back out, she had to do it soon. Yet, how could she?

As though reading her mind, Trace pulled her close. "Don't walk away from me, Katy," he whispered urgently, burying his face in the cloud of hair at her neck. "Give me a chance to make you happy. To make us both happy. Trust me, darling. Please."

Katy remained rigid in his arms for a few seconds. Then, slowly, she relaxed against him, and rested her head on his shoulder.