Tread Softly (20 page)

"This
is your home, too," Rafe thundered, his teeth bared.

"—then
I'll move to where my friends can feel free to call me." Cady felt as
though her skin were quivering loose from her flesh.

"Don't
you ever speak like that again!" Rafe ground the words at her.
"You're not leaving me."

Relief
at his words almost caved her in, but she lifted her chin still higher, not
wanting him to know how tearfully grateful she was that he didn't want her to
leave. "Then don't you dare dictate to me who should call me here. I don't
tell you whom you should speak to. Don't tell me."

"And
would you like it if I had women calling here?" Rafe shot back at her.

"What
do you mean, if? They have called," she fired in return.

"That's
a damn lie! No woman ever called me here after we married."

"That's the lie," Cady snapped, fighting against
the wobble in her voice. "Lee Terris called here more than once asking for
you." Her lips pressed together as she regretted the words. The last thing
she wanted was for Rafe to discover the hurt that lay like a heavy weight deep
inside her.

Rafe
stared at her, shaking his head. "Why would Lee call here? We have nothing
to talk about. The only times I've seen Lee have been when I went to Durra to
see my father."

"Ah, yes, good old Durra, party house par excellence.
Naturally you would see her there."

"Damn
it, Cady, I meant I saw her there when I visited my father's home, not when I
partied."

"For
God's sake, don't try to explain Durra to me. I haven't got a devious enough
mind to understand that setup." She gulped down the rest of her wine, glad
that the ice had diluted it. She watched Rafe stare at the glass, then back at
her face.

"You rarely
drink anything," he said.

"You
and your family will probably drive me to alcoholism," she snapped.
"Shall we go? I doubt there's sufficient wine in all of California and New
York together to dull my nerves enough to stand an evening with your
family." She sailed past him to the front door.

"I might find agreement with you there," Rafe pronounced
dryly, holding the door for her, then taking her arm to lead her to the car.

At any other
time the drive through the edge of Maryland hunt country with its stone fences
and rolling green hills would have entranced Cady, but as usual just the
thought of going to Durra was enough to start her stomach rumbling and her
attention centering on the ordeal of a dinner with the Densmores.

"Cady,
would you like to stop somewhere and get something to eat just to stop your
stomach from growling?" The amusement in Rafe's voice annoyed her.

"Sorry."
She pressed her hand on her abdomen. "No, I don't want to stop." It
rumbled again.

Rafe
reached over and pressed his hand flat on her stomach, pushing her own out of
the way. His fingers kneaded the slightly curved area above her lap.

She
felt stiff at first, wanting to push away his hand, but she had neither the
inclination nor the strength to do so. Soon the growling stopped, replaced by
the noiseless rumble of sensations deep within her. She bit her lips to keep
from pleading with Rafe to stop the car and make love to her right there beside
the highway.

Rafe kept his
hand on her the rest of the way, the heat from it penetrating right to her
backbone. He lifted his hand only after they had left the highway and turned
onto the meandering lane that would take them through the gates of Durra, up
the crushed-rock drive to the colonnaded house that stood on a knoll
overlooking beautiful fields. Today there were only a few horses to be seen,
but Cady leaned forward to get a better look.

"Would you
like to ride after dinner, Cady?"

"How long
are we staying?" she asked warily.

Rafe
shrugged. "Who knows? If it gets boring, we'll leave right after we
eat."

Cady turned to
look at him. "You'd do that?"

"I
would." Rafe let the car come to halt on the circular drive, then turned
to her. "I won't let my family bully you ever again, Cady. I think I told
you that."

"Yes, you
did. Thank you for that, Rafe." Cady turned away, fumbling at the latch on
the door, not wanting him to see the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

"Cady?
Cady, wait." He put his hand on her shoulder, but she wouldn't turn to
look at him. "Cady, can't we try again? We had something good..."

"Your
family will be waiting, Rafe." Cady wrenched free, hearing his muttered
oath behind her as she almost leaped from the car. She couldn't tell him that
she wanted to be his sole love, that she not only wanted to try again, she
wanted to try forever. But what if he saw the pictures? What would he say? How
could she bear the contempt in his eyes. Suspicious of Rob Ardmore as Rafe was,
how could she hope he would believe that the pictures were merely cleverly
faked?

She
skidded to a halt in front of the door just as Samson opened it. Samson was a
fixture at Durra. He had been a prizefighter in his younger days. His real name
was Kieron O'Malley, and he had come from the same section of Ireland as
Emmett's people, County Cork. He had retired from the fight ring many years
ago, but his professional name, Samson, had stuck, and that was how all
visitors to Durra referred to him. He was one of the few people at her
father-in-law's home whom Cady felt comfortable with.

"Lady
Cat'leen, how are you? Come in. If it ain't his lordship roight behind you.
Rafe, boyo, how are you?" Samson laughed as he crushed Rafe's hand in his
and the two of them stood there squeezing for all they were worth. It was a
foregone conclusion that Samson's hamlike hands would win, but, Cady noted
with satisfaction, Rafe held his own, making Samson's color rise. "Spalpeen!"
He used the Gaelic slang invective with a grin. "You're stronger, that's
for sure." He turned to look at Cady.

Before Samson could ask his usual question, she spoke.
"No, there's nothing in the oven yet." And she poked her tongue at
the bluff Irishman when both he and Rafe burst out laughing.

"And are
you so sure, colleen? You have a different look to you, I'd swear to it."
Samson laughed harder at the flush on her face.

Rafe
didn't laugh. He stared at Cady as though he would see deep inside her. He had
opened his mouth to speak when a yell from the stairs turned all heads that
way.

"Hey, you
two, it's about time you arrived. I'm starved." Gareth clattered down the
stairs and flung himself at his older brother, trying to wrestle him to the
floor. Before he had gotten Rafe into a grip, Cady was there cuffing him behind
the ear. "Ouch, Cady. What the hell is the matter with you?" 

"It's one
thing for Samson to hand wrestle Rafe, but you are not going to knock him to
the ground." She shook her finger in her brother-in-law's face. "He
isn't that strong yet, and I'm not going to stand by and let you undo all the
good work that has been done on Rafe just because you're an overgrown
puppy." She put her hands on her hips and glowered up at Gareth, who
rubbed the back of his ear sheepishly.

Gareth glanced
at Rafe and shrugged. "You married a tiger, brother; you'd better watch
out. If she decides to come after you, she'll chew you up."

"The
only way I'll go after Rafe is if he doesn't take care of his health,"
Cady said haughtily. Gareth put his nose in the air, trying to imitate her.
When she moved to cuff him again, he ducked, and Rafe caught her around the
waist.

"You'll
have my baby brother covered with bruises, darling." Rafe bent over her,
nibbling her ear.

"Cady's
right." Gavin came down the stairs in a much more sedate fashion than his
ebullient twin. "Rafe's health is the primary thing. If you weren't such a
thug, Gareth, you'd know it, too." Gavin smiled as his twin came at him in
a crouch, meeting him halfway. Though he was of slighter build than his twin,
he was faster and more coordinated.

They
wrestled in the front hall as their father descended the formal curved
staircase that made a better setting for an antebellum Southern ball than a
wrestling match.

"You two
get up from there," Emmett said mildly. watching with obvious pleasure as
his progeny bounced off the walls with groans and thuds. "Rafe, my boy,
how are you?"

"Fine,
and my wife is fine as well." Rafe took his father's outstretched hand in
his, his other arm pulling Cady close to his side.

"Oh?
That's good." Emmett looked at Cady in the circle of Rafe's arm and a
frown appeared between his eyes. "Lee Terris is here for dinner. I know
you'll be glad to hear that, Rafe."

"It's
your house. Ask whom you please." Rafe's voice had an edge of irritation
that narrowed his father's gaze on him. But before he could say anything, the
door leading to Emmett's study opened, revealing Bruno Trabold. Emmett turned
to look at him, smiling. "And you'll stay, too, won't you, Bruno?"

"Since
it's family, I won't stay." Bruno smiled at Emmett, his hooded gaze
touching on the rest of the persons gathered there.

"You're the
same as family," Emmett roared.

"Not
to me, he isn't," the irrepressible Gareth stated, staring back at his
glowering father.

"Me,
either," Gavin echoed.

"Where
are your manners?" Emmett glared at the twins, but he accompanied Bruno to
the front door.

Neither
Cady nor Rafe had spoken to Bruno, and he had not acknowledged them.

Lee
Terris floated from the back of the house in time to say she was disappointed
that Bruno wasn't staying. He was such a stimulating conversationalist. Then
she shrugged and walked straight to Rafe.

Gareth
stepped in front of her, catching her uplifted arms, then gripping her in a
bear hug. "I love it when you get physical, Lee, baby." He gave her a
resounding smack on the lips.

Although Lee
smiled when Gavin laughed, Cady could see the angry glitter in her eyes.

Emmett herded
them into the ballroom-size front room, where the priceless Sheraton furniture
that had been collected by Rafe's mother was interspersed with overstuffed
couches that would bear the weight of men like the Densmores, who demanded
comfort over style.

Samson
served the drinks. He was quick to make Cady's mineral water and lime and serve
it to her even as Emmett muttered about the milksop swill drunk by his
daughter-in-law. The boys drank beer. Lee Terris had a martini. Rafe and his
father drank Irish whiskey with no ice and little water.

When Rafe's
sisters arrived in a swirl of children and subdued husbands, Samson bustled
about fixing drinks for them as well. He made a pitcher of sweet Manhattans for
Aileen and Aveen and their husbands. For the children—two boys and a girl—he
poured root beer that he himself had made into old-fashioned glass mugs.

"Cady, that
dress! It's lovely." Aveen said it as if she were offended.

Gareth
crept up behind Cady. "What a traitor you are, Cady. Being well dressed
when you should look dowdy." His voice went an octave higher. "My
dear, you will never get along in this world if you're going to be fashionable,
intelligent, and gorgeous." His voice was loud enough so that both Aveen
and Aileen looked at him and frowned.

"Don't be a
bigger fool than you can help, Gareth," Aileen said repressively, looking
at him down her long, thin nose.

"Don't try
any of those schoolmarm airs with me, sister dear," Gareth shot back.
"I'm not your husband ... and I won't be trounced on by your size-ten
shoes."

Aileen
seemed to swell. Gareth's chin jutted forward. Gavin made a move toward his
twin. Cady stared at Aileen's husband, David Bailey. His face had taken on an
ugly crimson cast as he looked from his brother-in-law to his wife and back
again.

Without
thinking, Cady walked to Dave's side and took hold of his arm. He looked down
at her, an angry glitter in his eyes. "I don't know how you've kept from
tying her up and putting her in the attic all these years," Cady said
lightly, grinning up at him.

He
put one hand over hers, his expression relaxing. "Maybe that's exactly
what I will do." He looked back at his wife, who now stood nose to nose
facing her brother, their voices low but still piercing enough to have turned
the heads of the children. "Aileen, shut up and sit down. Now."
Dave's voice wasn't loud, but it penetrated the heated argument and the
concentration of most of the others in the room. His two children, two-year-old
Mara and ten-year-old Emmett, stared at their father, mouths agape, circles of
root beer on their lips. Aileen started as though someone had stuck a pin in
her. Emmett scowled. Aveen looked affronted; her husband, Harrison Colby,
looked hopeful.