Читать книгу The Bride's Second Thought - Elizabeth August, Elizabeth August - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Ellen dried the last pan and put it away. She’d insisted on cleaning up after dinner, partially because it was the polite thing to do and partially to keep busy. When they’d first sat down at the table, she’d prepared herself to discourage any further conversation about her private life. But she hadn’t had to. Her host had been content to eat in silence. The extent of their verbal exchange had consisted of her complimenting him on the meal and him thanking her for the compliment.

Bane had eaten at the same time they had and now he was sleeping in front of the fire while Peter sat in a nearby chair reading. She’d noticed the book earlier. It was a massive tome about the Mayan civilization. He didn’t exactly strike her as the scholarly type, but then she wasn’t the best judge of men, she thought acidly.

“I noticed a large assortment of books in the study. Would it be all right if I chose one to read?” she asked.

“Consider yourself at home,” Peter replied without looking up from the page. He’d been trying to concentrate on a map of the ancient Mayan empire, especially that portion that had spread into Guatemala, but his unexpected guest had proved to be a distraction. He’d found himself covertly watching her and enjoying the view. Hopefully, she’d find a book, sit down and he’d be able to ignore her.

Bane lifted his head, looked disgruntled at having had his rest disturbed, then again laid his head down and went back to sleep.

Clearly, I’m the sort of woman who can’t hold any male’s attention, Ellen mused dryly, going into the study. A handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man’s image filled her mind. Her stomach knotted and she felt sick. Pushing the image from her mind, she concentrated on the shelves of books. Most were nonfiction. Some were histories. The majority dealt with Native Americans. On closer inspection, she found that several pertaining to the healing arts practiced by the various Indian nations were written by Jack Greenriver. He’d also written one concerning the Eskimos. Choosing a book at random, she considered remaining in the study, but being alone made it too easy to remember what had sent her on this trek.

So far, her host and Bane had proved to be enough of a distraction to keep her mind off last night, and with any luck they would continue to be.

“You said this place belonged to Jack Greenriver?” she asked, returning to the living room.

Peter looked up. Her hair had dried into a mass of tiny ringlets. It looked cute, he thought, then frowned impatiently at himself. “Yes.”

She got the distinct impression he didn’t want to talk. “I just wondered,” she said crisply. “I found a shelf of books with that name as the author.”

She’s taken, Peter reminded himself curdy. “Jack wrote them. He’s in Arizona visiting family and doing some research for a new book at the moment.”

A blast of wind rattled the window in the kitchen area. “He’s probably having a lot better weather there than we are here. Warmer, at least,” she murmured.

Not any warmer than the heat she was kindling inside of him, Peter admitted silently. Apparently, he had been spending too much time alone. He returned his gaze to the page in front of him. “I suppose.”

Again sensing that her host was not in the mood. for conversation, Ellen told herself to keep quiet. She seated herself on the couch and began to read. But as interesting as the subject matter was, it could not hold her attention. Instead, she found herself covertly studying her host and comparing him to Charles.

Charles was thirty-five. She’d placed her host somewhere near that age. They were also near the same height and build. But they were clearly men of different ilks. Peter obviously did not make regular trips to the barber. She also guessed that the jeans and flannel shirt were his normal attire. Charles, on the other hand, had a standing weekly appointment with his hair stylist, and he never wore jeans. She tried to picture him in them but the image felt wrong. Denim didn’t suit his personality. At work, he was always in a suit. At play, he wore designer slacks or shorts. He was a sophisticated, well-educated man with impeccable manners. But he wasn’t a snob...just a louse.

She turned her attention back to her host. He’d displayed pleasant manners while they’d eaten. He hadn’t belched or slurped. As for education, she knew he could read.

Peter had been attempting to ignore his guest. But her gaze was causing an uncomfortable prickling sensation. He cast an irritated scowl her way.

Quickly Ellen feigned intense interest in the page in front of her. But again her mind didn’t focus on the words, instead the blue of her host’s eyes intrigued her. Charles’s eyes were blue as well, but they were more pale in color. Peter Whitley’s eyes reminded her of sky darkened just before a storm.

Admitting that trying to relax was useless, she put the book aside, rose and went to the window to look out. In the dim light of the porch lamp she could see the huge flakes still falling, and the sound of the wind told her the storm was continuing to rage. “Shouldn’t we call the nearest garage and make an appointment to have their wrecker come pull me out as soon as the storm subsides?” she asked, abruptly breaking the silence hanging over the room.

“I did that while you were washing the dishes,” Peter replied.

She assumed that, like before, he would immediately return his attention to his book, but a prickling on her neck suggested otherwise. She turned and was met by a pair of cool blue eyes. “Thanks.” That seemed, she thought, to be the major extent of her vocabulary since they’d met.

Hoping to rid himself of all temptation, Peter said, “If you’re anxious to get out of here because you want to make amends with your fiancé, you could call him.”

Her jaw tensed. “I can’t talk to him. Not yet, anyway.”

Her nervousness was making him edgy. Worse, though, was her moving around the room. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Deciding that, seated, she would be much less dangerous to his control, he said, “I apologize for not being a good host. If you’d like, we could play a game of chess or cards.”

His offer, she could tell, was genuine, but the thought of sitting made her legs ache. “What I’d really like to do is scream.”

“Go ahead. I’d be grateful for anything that would reduce the tension in this room.”

That her distress was affecting him surprised her. She’d been sure her presence was no more noticeable to him than one of the chairs or some other inanimate object. “I’m sorry.”

Peter found himself focusing on her lips and wondering how they would taste. He needed a diversion, something that would discourage such thoughts. Talking about her fiancé should do the trick. “I make it a rule never to pry into anyone else’s private life. However, if it would be helpful for you to talk about whatever sent you on this excursion, I’m willing to listen.”

The image of Charles wearing nothing but a bathrobe, caused Ellen’s anger to rekindle. “Being a man, you’ll probably think it’s amusing.”

He frowned at the implication that all men were insensitive clods. “I find nothing amusing about a person placing themself in danger.”

Realizing she’d lashed out unfairly at him, she flushed. “I apologize. It’s just that I trusted Charles. Now I’m wondering if I can trust any man.”

“No one is perfect.”

Too tense to remain in one place, she paced across the room. Coming to a halt behind the couch, she met his gaze squarely. “I never expected perfection. And I was perfectly willing to forget about any liaisons he’d had before we started dating. But once he’d declared his love for me and we became engaged, I did expect fidelity.” The anger in her eyes flared hotter. “Last night I caught him with another woman. I’m a mechanical engineer. He thought I was going to be at the plant all night working out a problem we were having with one of the robotic arms. But I solved it more quickly than I thought I would and stopped by his place with Chinese takeout. I figured we could have a late dinner together.”

Peter found himself thinking that Charles must be a real idiot. “He was probably having one last fling before he marched down the aisle. Some men feel that need.”

“You make it sound so frivolous, as if he’d done nothing worse than go out for a night with the guys.” She studied him coldly. “Are you men so shallow you don’t know the meaning of commitment?”

Again he bristled at being lumped into a single category with all other men. “I know the meaning of commitment. If I loved a woman, she wouldn’t have to worry about me straying.”

Ellen felt herself being drawn into the blue depths of his eyes. The purpose and resolve she saw there was so powerful it was akin to a physical force. Every instinct told her that this man meant what he said. As the blue of his eyes seemed to engulf her, the thought that he was what she’d waited all her life for flashed through her mind.

Peter was acutely aware of the way the brown of her eyes was softening. She’s in a vulnerable state right now. he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of her, and he’d always tried to do what was right. “Did you give him a chance to explain?” he asked curtly.

“Who? Explain...?” For a moment she’d forgotten about everyone and everything but her host. The intensity of the momentary, unexpected attraction she’d experienced shook her. His sudden aloofness suggested he’d been aware of her reaction and wasn’t pleased. An embarrassed tint reddened her cheeks.

“Charles,” Peter replied.

“Charles,” she repeated the name. Her fiancé’s image came sharply back to mind, and anger washed away her embarrassment. Her gaze became icy. “He tried to blame me. Can you believe that? He actually tried to blame me!”

“He tried to blame you for his affair?” Interesting ploy, Peter mused.

Her shoulders squared with dignity. “I suppose you’d consider me a throwback to another era, but I was saving myself for marriage.” She caught the glint of surprise in his eyes. “Yes, that’s right. Standing before you is a twenty-nine-year-old virgin. Bet you never thought you’d see one of those in this day and age.”

“I never really gave it much thought one way or the other.” Peter found himself thinking that she looked kind of cute when she was angry.

Her jaw tightened in proud defiance. “I figured it was a good path to follow. The consummation of my marriage would be special. In addition, I would also avoid the possibility of contracting AIDS and other undesirable diseases or ending up pregnant out of wedlock.” Her anger flared hotter. “And it hasn’t been easy. I’m not frigid. There have been times when I was tempted.”

Peter saw the flicker of hurt that passed over her features and knew that behind her anger was the pain of someone who felt betrayed. “A lot of people would consider your decision admirable.”

“If so, they’re keeping awfully quiet,” she retorted, pacing once again. “Newspapers, television and magazines have the soap box, and the majority of what I read and see wouldn’t support your view.” She breathed a tired sigh. Again approaching the couch, she rested her hands on its back and faced Peter levelly. “But then I’ve never let what anyone else thought determine my course of action. Even after we became engaged I insisted on waiting until our wedding night. I thought it would make the consummation of our love more important somehow.”

The bitter edge returned to her voice. “He claimed it simply made him frustrated. He said he was a healthy male and needed female companionship. He said it was my fault he had to seek out a different companion.” She straightened, indignation etching into her features. “And do you know who he chose? No, of course you don’t. Well, I’ll tell you. It was the twenty-two-year-old redheaded receptionist from the plant. I’d seen her flirting with Charles, but I trusted him.”

Peter found himself not liking the role, but he heard himself playing the devil’s advocate. “There is another way to look at this.”

She glared at him. “And what way is that?”

“Maybe he’s gotten his cheating out of his system. Better now than after the vows are said.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him! Do you men always stick so close together?”

Peter frowned. “I’m not defending him. I just think that since you obviously care a great deal for him, you should consider all the possibilities.”

“Cared. Past tense,” she corrected.

How much he wanted to believe her, stunned him. If you do, you’re a fool, he warned himself. “If you don’t still care, then why are you so upset?” he asked. “Because I feel humiliated! Duped! Made a fool of!”

He wasn’t convinced. “I think you should relax and get some sleep. Once you’re rested, you’ll be able to think clearer.”

Ellen stared into the fire. “Maybe I don’t want to think clearer. My mother didn’t say so, but I know she’s worried I’ll never find anyone to marry if I don’t marry Charles, and maybe that same fear is lurking down deep inside of me. It might convince me to overlook Charles’s indiscretion, even if I’m not totally convinced he would remain faithful once we were married.” Her jaw tensed. “I don’t want to be married to a man I can’t trust.”

“It could be that he’ll realize how much he cares for you and never stray again,” Peter said.

Ellen breathed a tired sigh. “Maybe.” Having revealed a great deal more about herself than she’d wanted to, she fell silent.

The man would be a fool if he didn’t, Peter thought. Sensing their conversation had reached its end, he returned his attention to his book. This time, telling himself that his guest was still in love with her fiancé and therefore totally off-limits to any further lustful thoughts, he ordered himself to concentrate on his research.

Rounding the couch, Ellen sat down and stared into the fire. Bane had woken during the exchange between her and Peter. Now, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he’d gone back to sleep. That he’d shown no reaction to her display of anger caused her to realize that the wolf had accepted her as a nonthreatening entity. That, at least, was a relief.

Still, she remained tense as, uninvited, her host’s image filled her mind. She recalled her sudden, very strong, totally surprising attraction for the bearded man. Obviously she was experiencing some sort of rebound reflex, she decided. She’d never thought of herself as the kind of woman whose emotions could bounce so radically, but then, she’d had a shock, catching Charles with Janet and been terrified, thinking that she might freeze to death or be eaten by wolves. It was only natural her emotions were a little out of control.

Also, she had to admit that Peter wasn’t bad looking in a caveman sort of way. On top of that, he’d saved her life. It was only natural, she’d feel a certain affinity toward him. Just don’t go thinking what you’re feeling is anything more than gratitude, she warned herself. She had enough trouble ahead, sorting out her feelings about Charles. She didn’t need to confuse the issue with a rebound attraction to a stranger.

Having had this little talk with herself and confident she had her emotions reined in, she still found herself being curious about her host. “What do you do when you aren’t cabin- and wolf-sitting for a friend?”

Silently Peter groaned. He’d been trying to ignore her, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to make that easy. He looked up.

She read the impatience in his eyes and felt like a nuisance. “Never mind,” she said with apology. “It’s none of my business.”

He knew he’d behaved impolitely. But she was a strain on his control. “I travel a lot. I’m a geologist. I go where my work and interests take me,” he informed her, then returned his attention to his book, letting her know he considered this exchange over.

And you’re not inclined to talk about yourself, she added mentally. Respecting his right to privacy, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the couch. The image of her and her host climbing a mountain together began to play through her mind. Scowling, she opened her eyes and glared at the wall above the mantel. Her emotions were in turmoil, and now her mind was traveling absurd paths! Peter was right. She needed some sleep.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, abruptly rising. “Good night and thank you for your hospitality.”

Peter read and stoked the fire while he waited for his guest to settle in for the night. It wasn’t until she’d finished in the bathroom, entered the bedroom and closed the door that he relaxed.

Reaching down, he scratched Bane’s neck. “Jack always says you have a nose for trouble. He’s right. The sooner we send Miss Reese on her way, the better.”

After closing and locking the bedroom door, Ellen climbed into the bed. From the next room she could hear her host muttering something and guessed he was talking to the wolf. He’s probably making a joke about my stupidity, she mused. She couldn’t fault him. She had behaved stupidly. If she’d wanted to cross a border, she should have headed for Mexico.

The wind buffeted the cabin. As she snuggled farther under the fluffy down comforter, the phrase “snug as a bug in a rug” ran through her head. Clearly she was still in shock from the discovery of Charles with Janet. She was a prisoner of the storm, trapped in a cabin, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a stranger and a wolf for companions. There should be nothing comforting or snug about that.

Too tired to ponder this curious course of emotions, she closed her eyes and immediately drifted to sleep.