Beauty and the Brain (38 page)

She heaved a big sigh. “I’m sorry. I forgot
how touchy you men are about that sort of thing.”

You men.
Colin swallowed hard,
unhappy to know that Brenda had categorized him in such a fashion.
If he’d behaved decently to her from the first, she probably
wouldn’t have. Too late now. And there was no time left to
re-establish himself in her eyes. He’d completely failed in this,
perhaps the most important mission in his life. And the fact that
he hadn’t recognized it as a worthwhile mission until now was no
excuse. He should have seen it. The fact that he hadn’t only proved
what George and everyone else in his family had been saying about
him for years: He paid more attention to his studies than he did
the people surrounding him. He cared more about historical folks
than living human beings.

Dash it, he hadn’t even recognized this
particular characteristic of his, which he fully acknowledged and
had done for years, as a flaw until this minute. But it was one. A
gigantic, mind-boggling, misery-making flaw in his character. He
used to laugh about it, thinking it was amusing that other people
were so involved with their fellow humans. He’d considered himself
immune to such frippery.

Until now.

After a second interval of silence, Brenda
let out a chuff of air and said, “I’m going to sit over here and
see if I can find a magazine or something to read.” She headed for
the sofa.

Colin watched her back for a moment, then
steeled himself for rebuff and asked, “May I sit with you? I’d like
to stay here with George, too.” And Brenda. He wanted to stay with
Brenda. For as long as she’d let him. He, didn’t dare say so.

She glanced back at him from over her
shoulder, her eyebrows lifted above those spectacular blue eyes,
lending her exquisite features an expression of surprise.

“Sure. I’m glad. For a while there, I’d
wondered if you even cared what happened to your brother.”

Immediately Colin bridled. He opened his
mouth, to refute such a monstrous doubt on her part but never got
it said Brenda intervened.

“I’m sorry, Colin. I shouldn’t have said
that.” She sounded as if she was nearly too tired to stand up any
longer. When she sat, on the sofa with a soft “Whew,” he perceived
that she was weary. Very weary.

Her interruption had given him a chance to
think about his objection. Recalling his first meeting with George
at the Cedar Crest, he understood how she might have come by such
an opinion of him, and he was ashamed of himself.

Walking slowly over to the sofa, he said,
“No. You’re right. Of course you thought I didn’t care. I gave you
every reason to think otherwise.”

He sat next to her, but not too close,
fearing she’d tell him to get lost if he took any more liberties
with her I heart gave another hard spasm. He could scarcely stand
to think about how badly he’d mucked up his approach to Brenda.

Mating rituals. Good God, he must have been
out of his mind.

She sighed again and stifled a yawn. “I know
better now.”

“You do?”

Rubbing her eyes, she nodded. The gesture
was uncharacteristic of her, and indicated to Colin how worn out
she was. They’d been up awfully late last night, and she’d been
terrified, which in itself was enough to drain a person’s energy.
He’d been a beast in that instance, too. Glumly, he admitted to
himself that he had a lot to make up for with regard to Brenda. In
a gesture meant to mollify, he said humbly, “I haven’t been very
nice to you Brenda, and I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t realize what a
stiff-necked bastard I’d become in the past few years.”

He heard a rustle in her corner of the sofa
and peeked at her sort of sideways, fearful of looking at her fully
in case she intended to mock him or sneer or something. She’d
reared back slightly and was staring at him with eyes as big and as
blue as robins’ eggs. He felt the back of his neck heat up and
pushed forward relentlessly.

“And I was an ass and a fool to believe
you’d go to bed with me. As if I’m any great shakes. A woman like
you could have her pick of all the men in the world. I can’t
believe how arrogant and idiotic I was. You must despise me by this
time, if you didn’t already.”

“Good heavens.” Her voice was small and
breathy. Colin figured she was just winding up to let him have it
with both barrels.

But she said nothing more. Again he peered
at her from out of the corner of his eye, wondering why she wasn’t
using this opportunity to rake him over the coals. Lord knew he
deserved it. He pushed his glasses up his nose and braced
himself.

Not a peep from Brenda. He finally dared
turn his head and looked at her. He was alarmed when he saw her,
for she had her hands clutched in her lap and her head bowed. He
couldn’t tell if she was merely gazing at her clasped hands, trying
not to laugh at him, thinking of choice insults to fling at him, or
praying. He didn’t know, either, which he’d prefer she be
doing.

Several minutes passed in silence. Colin got
itchier and itchier as the seconds dragged by his body tense, his
brain, screaming, waiting for a barrage of wordy weapons to hit
him. At last he couldn’t stand the strain another instant longer.
“Er, Brenda? Are you all right?”

She nodded and didn’t speak.

Good Lord, whatever was the matter with her?
He tried again. “Brenda? I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you. I
don’t know what possessed me to be such an ass.”

She lifted her head and glanced at him At
least she didn’t look as if she aimed to pick up the stone ashtray
from the table beside her and bash him over the head with it. Colin
thanked his stars for small favors.

“An ass?” Her voice was still soft—as soft
as eider down and as lovely as a sunset. Her voice was as beautiful
as the rest of her, faint traces of New York be damned. “No, Colin,
you were never an ass.” Her head lowered again “I had hoped, when
we first met, that you might have been willing to instruct me in
some of the historic aspects of Indian culture. I guess you had
better things to do.”

Once again his heart gave a large, painful
spasm. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I had nothing better to do. The
truth was that I didn’t believe you meant it. I guess I didn’t
think anyone as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in
academics.”

Her low chuckle was so ironic, it felt to
Colin as if he’d been sprinkled with alum. “That’s been a problem
for me ever since I was a little girl.”

She spoke matter-of-factly, but Colin could
guess at the pain behind the simple statement. He couldn’t imagine
himself, for instance, Colin Peters, being judged solely on the
basis of his appearance. That society judged women thus struck him
as immensely unfair, although he’d never much thought about it
before. He gulped again, painfully. “I’m sorry. I hate knowing I
was as unfair to you as all the rest.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m used to
it.”

Which only made Colin, who’d always prided
himself on being different from his fellow men, feel worse.

She went on. “I have to admit that it hurt,
though, even though I’m not blaming you. I have such a powerful
thirst for knowledge, you see. I never had the opportunity to
attend school past the primary grades, and now I can’t ever seem to
make people believe I mean it when I ask questions about the things
that interest me.”

“If I’m an example, I’m sure that’s true. I
didn’t think you meant it. I was an ass.”

She glanced at him and gave him a very small
smile “Well . . . maybe.”

His heart turned over. God, she was
wonderful. Why hadn’t he recognized it before it was too late? Was
he one of those blind men who were fated to stumble through life
not recognizing treasures until they slipped through their fingers?
What an abysmal thought.

He had a sudden, painful vision of himself
as a gray-haired old man, living with a gray-haired old woman just
like him, stuck in a colorless union with no life to it—no humor,
no glee, no fun, no interests other than what they read in books.
He’d known couples like that, mainly retired professors and
scientists and other academicians they’d grown used to each other
but had never experienced passion together.

God, how depressing. He turned toward her
suddenly. “Listen, Brenda—”

“Listen, Colin—”

They’d spoken at the same time, and both
stopped instantly as soon as they realized it. Colin gestured with
his right hand. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

She gestured with her left. “No, no. You go
first.”

“No, really, I didn’t mean to
interrupt.”

“It was I who interrupted.”

“No. Please.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Very well.”
Then she shut her mouth, and it stayed shut for so long that Colin
feared she’d forgotten what she’d intended to say.

When he saw that her cheeks had started
burning, his eyes almost popped from his head. Obviously, she
hadn’t forgotten. But what was it?

She spoke again, so suddenly it startled
him. “Oh, Colin, this is so embarrassing. But—but— Oh, damn it. I’m
so bad at this!”

He’d almost become accustomed to the use of
the epithet which she didn’t really do very often, but it still
jarred on his already ragged nerves. He didn’t speak, sensing
they’d both be better off that way.

She burst out, “I’d love to go to bed with
you.”

His mouth fell open.

Her head turned and she faced him fully
lifting her chin. Her cheeks were now a brilliant pink, which on I
enhanced her beauty, and her blue eyes sparkled like precious gems.
“I know it’s shocking, but it’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”
There was a distinct flavor of defiance in, her tone.

Confusion held him speechless. On the one
hand, yes, that was exactly what he wanted to hear. On the other
hand it wasn’t. Not at all. Since this understanding was totally
new to him, he couldn’t think of anything to say to her to save his
life.

Suddenly she surged from the sofa with a
swish of skirt and petticoat. “Oh, I’m making a botch of this!”

“No,” he said feebly. “Wait.”

She wheeled around and stood looking down at
him, her arms straight at her sides, her fists clenched. “Yes, I
am. Now you think I’m a wanton hussy, don’t you?”

“No, I—”

“Don’t you?” Her voice had risen. Darting a
glance at the lump that was George, she lowered it. “You must. No
woman who wasn’t of loose morals would offer herself in this
humiliating way.”

Finally Colin managed to gather his muscles,
if not his wits, together, and he rose from the sofa, too. He
towered over her. She was so small and delicate and lovely. He
hated himself for offering her such a scummy proposition as he’d
done earlier. He couldn’t quite take in the fact that she now
seemed to be accepting it.

“Brenda, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I’m making such a hash of this!” Again
she swirled around. With her back to him, she lifted her hands and
buried her face in them.

Colin felt terrible. “Brenda, I —”

She shook her head. “No, Colin, please don’t
try to make me feel better. I understand. You don’t want me any
longer.”

He gaped at her blond curls, a little messy
now after the vicissitudes of the morning, unable to speak. She
thought he didn’t want her any longer? Was she out of her mind? Was
he out of his mind?

“This is the most mortifying moment of my
life.” The words were muffled, as if she was choking back tears.
“Please forgive me. If you can, try to forget I even spoke of
it.”

Forget? How in the name of glory could he
ever forget this? Colin gave himself a mental thump in the jaw to
get his brain unstuck; it had frozen solid in shock. “No, Brenda,
please. You misunderstood me. I was—I was— I was just so
startled.”

She huffed. Colin couldn’t tell if there
were tears in the noise or not, but he feared there might be. Lord,
how could he bungle everything so badly. every single time he
tried? “Please. You’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“About me. About you. About everything.” He
threw, up his hands, frustrated beyond bearing at his inability to
articulate plainly. He’d never had this problem before in his
entire life. Even when he was a boy, he prided himself on his clear
thinking and declamatory proficiency. Then again, what would a boy
know about a situation like this?

A watery chuckle issued from Brenda’s
throat. Her hands still covered her face. “That’s no surprise to
me.”

“Oh, Lord, Brenda, don’t you understand? I
want you more than ever. I want you so badly, I can hardly stand
it.”

Her arms dropped and she turned and peered
at him oddly. “You do?”

“God, yes.”

She gazed at him blandly. “Oh.”

“But . . . but it shouldn’t be like
this.”

She glanced around the parlor. “Um, I didn’t
think we should do anything in here, Colin.”

He ought to be writing this down. While he
was generally good at speaking, his true strength lay in the
written word. How nonsensical he must sound to her. He’d sound even
more nonsensical if he asked her to wait while he wrote out what he
meant, since he couldn’t seem to say it coherently. “No, no, I
didn’t mean that. What I meant was that you shouldn’t be giving
yourself to me like this.”

“But . . . but you just said you still want
me.” She looked so forlorn, it was all Colin could do to keep from
grabbing her and making love to her right there and now.

“Aaaarrrgh.” He rammed his fingers through
his hair. “No, I didn’t mean that.”

“No? You mean you really don’t want me?”

“No! I mean yes! Oh, dash it, Brenda, I want
you terribly. But not like this.”

Her lovely face assumed a quizzical
expression. Small wonder. “I don’t think I understand, Colin.”
Small wonder about that, either.

“Of course you don’t. I’m not making any
sense.”