Authors: Amanda Carpenter
'Nice party,' said Caprice falsely, and her mother murmured a too
bright reply, party smile fastened firmly in place. Caprice looked past
the mask and saw the faint glitter in Irene's eyes. 'Mom,' she said
then, laying her hand gently on the older woman's sleeve. 'I'm sorry.'
'Why, for heaven's sake?' said Irene, with an odd little laugh that
wasn't a laugh at all. 'For being right?'
'No,' she said very quietly, feeling something like grief well up inside
her for the other, foolish woman's pain. 'For telling you like I did. I
was cruel, I hurt you, and I'm sorry.'
Beyond both women's sight, Richard slowed and stopped, waiting for
the two to finish in some semblance of privacy while he held two
drinks. After a. moment, Irene met her daughter's remorseful gaze
with a real smile. 'I still think Pierce is a fine man,' she said simply.
Caprice laughed. 'So do I, Mom. So do I.' She bent forward, pressed a
quick kiss to her mother's cheek, and then whisked away again, in
search of different, amusing company.
She didn't know what she thought. She supposed, later, that she knew
it couldn't last for too long, that she was silently goading Pierce, that
she was being rude. She did know that, as the evening progressed,
she felt worse. She did know that every time she saw Pierce
appearing to be interested in any woman of decent figure and age,
she felt something dart like needles into her. But she couldn't think
why it hurt, or why she was acting the way she was, or why he put up
with it. It was as unfathomable as a murky lake at full night, nothing
to be seen or understood past the shallow ripples.
There came a time when, as she was chattering away with a
presentable young man who showed unmistakable signs of
infatuation, Pierce strolled up to stand beside her. 'Excuse me,' he
said, without interest, to the young man. Without even waiting for the
other to question him or withdraw politely, he turned to her and said,
'I've had enough. I'm leaving now. If you would like to come with
me, you may, and if not, then I'm sure your parents will be more than
happy to see you home.'
She was unprepared for the ultimatum, or the cavalier manner in
which he presented it. That she might have deserved it didn't come
into the matter; she felt a sudden wave of rage wash over her, and
with her eyes sparkling like hard stones, she said between her teeth,
'Don't you dare issue orders to me, do you hear?'
Pierce turned to the presentable young man and said pleasantly,
'Now, did you hear me issuing any orders? I thought not.' He turned
back to her. 'I merely informed you of your choices.'
The presentable young man looked extremely uncomfortable,
gabbled something which was supposed to be polite or witty, and
backed quickly away. Neither noticed.
Caprice had never been treated that way in her entire life. Men
always came and went at her bidding, not the other way around. She
couldn't believe her ears. 'Do you mean, you would actually walk out
on someone you escorted to a party?'
Incredibly, he smiled. 'Yes,' he said. 'So, which is it to be? Either you
come with me now and we have that talk I've been waiting for all
evening, or I walk out of here, and that's it. I won't be commuting any
more to Virginia. It's quite a clear-cut choice, I should think.'
Shock hit her anew. Somehow, she hadn't been expecting it to be this
way. Somehow she'd been expecting to be the one to call things off,
whenever it suited her. Her huge, violet eyes quickly searched his,
and she found nothing in them but a smiling steeliness. 'You're just
angry,' she said, attempting to shrug it off. But her voice sounded
uncertain.
He raised his brows. 'Wherever did you get that idea?' he asked,
sounding genuinely surprised. 'Perhaps you think I have cause to be?'
That sent colour to her cheeks. 'But no, I'm not. I think I'm beginning
to understand you a little better—not a whole lot, God knows! Your
mind works in truly tortuous ways. But I certainly don't feel angry
with you tonight, merely a bit bored. I can watch you talk with
someone else for only so long, I'm afraid. Now, for the final time,
which is it to be? I've had your wrap brought down.'
He didn't even sound concerned, and that hurt and angered her the
most. Without thinking, she spat out, 'I'm not ready to leave, yet!'
Something in his pleasant, blank face flickered then. 'I see. Good
night, then, sweetheart.' He pressed a quick, light kiss to her cheek
and turned to walk away.
She watched him leave, feeling cold and stiff. Something began a
hard pounding in her heart. He went into the hall and was out of
sight. She looked around, at the people packed in the room, milling
about, talking to one another about things that were certainly
interesting, but by no means crucial to her happiness. She was left
with nothing crucial to her happiness, just a lot of pleasantries which
meant nothing at all to her.
She was racing for the door in the next instant, bumping through
people, whisking around the woman who held her wrap and yanking
it out of her hands without bothering to excuse herself or to even say
thank you. Then she was at the front door, wondering if she was too
late, throwing it open wide.
'WAIT!' she cried, straining her eyes to peer through the darkness. She
hurried down the front steps towards the driveway. A patch of
shadow that was Pierce's black suit stopped suddenly still, and
whirled round. She had reached the driveway by then, and her steps
faltered to a stop as her eyes adjusted to the night and she took in his
rigid stance. He wasn't as indifferent as he come,' she said, voice
sounding thin in the open air. 'But I don't make any promises.'
Despite her words, she hovered uncertainly, unsure if his offer was
still open.
She hadn't realised how much it meant to her, until she saw his hand
come up wordlessly, palm outstretched in invitation. She sighed
harshly in sagging reaction, her wrap crushed against her chest in her
arms. The knowledge bolted through her, then, that if he would but
call her name, she would follow him anywhere he asked. Her shaking
legs found the impetus to carry her forward to him, to take his hand,
but instead of closing his fingers around hers, he drew her evening
wrap out of her arms, draped it carefully about her slight figure, and
then put his arm around her shoulders. In that way they walked to the
car.
Caprice's mind and heart were reeling. She didn't know how, or
when, but she had managed to fall deeply in love with him. Her lips
shook. Such a fine, cool-headed determination she'd had, and, despite
all her efforts, she would be the one to get hurt.
She should have known from the beginning. She should have seen.
She knew that he was different from the very start; she knew that
what she'd felt for him had been different. But she'd never fallen in
love before, and didn't know how to recognise the signs of it in
herself. She turned her head as he courteously gave a hand to help her
into the Jaguar, averting her face. How could anyone not love him?
His gentleness, his quiet poise, his understanding. It all made him
endearing to her. But what shook her to the core was something in
him, barely glimpsed or understood, that lay beneath his other
qualities like a brooding, slumbering beast. It was a wealth of passion
and compassion, a stronghold of deep, overpowering feeling, and it
frightened her even as it drew her close to its warmth.
He got into the car silently, started the engine, and pulled on to the
street. She was off-balance and shaking. He was frowning and
withdrawn, his jawline hard as though he worked hard to contain
something.
When he missed the turn that took them to her house, she blinked a
few times, and flicked a wary, sidelong glance to him. He seemed
like a stranger. 'Where are we going?' she asked cautiously. 'Why
aren't you taking me home?'
'I know from experience that Jeffrey and my parents will be gone till
quite late,' he said then, almost absently. 'And the servants have the
evening off. I want you in privacy, so that I know we won't be
disturbed, and that you can't run away, as seems to be your habit
whenever I try to have a heart to heart talk with you.'
She put a hand to her forehead, letting her hair fall forward to hide
her face. She wasn't in control. Everything about her was stupidly
shaking. The slightest pressure from him, and she would crack up.
'Thanks for asking,' she said, bitterly.
'You made your choice.'
She'd never been to the Langston home. It seemed huge, easily twice
the size of her own home, the yellow security lights illuminating
great pools of deep red brick and creeping, mature ivy. Pierce parked
the car, and turned in his seat to stare at her thoughtfully. She kept
her eyes steadfastly trained on the dashboard ahead of her, expression
tight. He lifted his hand and touched at her hair with the backs of his
fingers. Then he climbed out of the car and, as there was nothing else
for her to do, she followed.
Inside, he led her to a rather larger version of their den and, as she
walked jerkily around the room, he mixed them drinks. She took her
wrap and threw it carelessly to a chair, letting it slide between her
fingers. The deep, brilliant blue of her dress and her silver blonde
hair made her stand out from the muted browns in the background
like a slim, cool flame. When he handed her a gin and tonic, she took
the round, cold glass, carefully avoiding his fingers, and a wry twist
of his well-shaped lips told her he knew it.
The silence stretched tight, magnified by the hulking weight of huge
emptiness that expanded around them. The house was probably from
the 1700s, she guessed by the architecture, and no doubt it creaked at
night. She turned away from Pierce's tall figure and ran her eyes up
to the ceiling. It was a lovely home.
'I love you,' he said quietly, and she spilled her drink.
'Oh God, I'm sorry,' she exclaimed breathlessly, her heart knocking
ninety miles an hour in her chest. She set down her half-f glass
with a sharp chink, and hurried to the bar in search of towels. It
incidentally took her well away from Pierce, for which she was
grateful.
'Leave it,' he said sharply, making an impatient gesture. 'The carpet
doesn't matter.'
She found a towel, and turned to stare at the floor at his feet. 'But it
should be cleaned before it soaks in too much -
'I said leave it!' His voice rose harshly, and she dropped the towel in
immediate reaction. 'Damn it, woman, I just said I love you! Does
that do anything at all to you?'
Her hands flew to her face as she was stung into crying, 'What do you
want me to say? That I love you, too, and let's go live happily ever
after?'
He made a sharp, ungraceful movement towards her that she felt
through her entire body, making her jump where she stood. 'Would
that be so bad?' he replied, sounding ragged, quite unlike himself.
'What do you feel for me, Caprice? You act so differently from one
moment to the next, I can't tell!'
She pulled her hands from her face to stare at them, the slender
fingers, the oval palms. 'I— want to go home now,' she whispered,
her eyes filling.
'What will it take to break through to you?' he shouted, and she
visibly cringed. 'You're always running away, putting on an act,
doing anything you possibly can to avoid something like this
between us! Why? If you don't love me, for God's sake, just say so
and it's the end of the discussion!'
'Don't,' she choked out. 'Oh, don't.'
He made a strange sort of sound that was more wrenched out of him
than anything else, and he strode over to take her into his arms. With
one hand, he cradled her bright head to his chest. 'And why do you
tear me apart inside?' he whispered into her hair. 'All this week I
thought of you. I tried to put you out of my mind so that I could get
through work, but you were there when I least expected it. I heard
your laugh, saw your smile, and all I wanted was to hold you.'