Caprice (11 page)

be leaving, both Caprice and Roxanne were quick to add that they,

too, should be departing. They would rather drive in full daylight;

Roxanne had an early appointment the next morning; of course they

would much rather stay; it had been a lovely weekend, too bad it had

to end. But Jeffrey understood, didn't he? Of course he did, so they

would just pop upstairs to get their things.

She parted with Roxanne in the hall, entering the room that had been

hers for a few days without bothering to shut the door. As she was a

tidy person by nature, repacking her suitcase took a matter of

minutes, and she soon went to her tiny bathroom to make sure she

hadn't forgot anything before going back down. She walked in,

pivoted on her heel and was out again, almost in the same motion.

Then she stopped, as abruptly as running into a wall.

Pierce leaned casually against the side of the door, letting his dark

gaze roam the bedroom before settling on her tense, still face. He had

apparently been out, either walking or driving with his window

down, for his black hair was blown out of its sleek style, whipped

back. 'Heard you were leaving,' was his laconic opener.

She forced herself to walk calmly to her suitcase which was lying

open on her bed. With a snap, it was closed, and she pressed the twin

catches with her thumbs. The double snick was abnormally loud in

the room. 'I heard a rumour to that effect,' she said, surprising herself

by the sarcasm evident in her voice.

'Was that supposed to be funny?' He was still angry with her. She

could feel it, sense it almost as she would see a physical colour, a

dark hazy red. Did she transmit her anger as clearly as he, was that

how he'd intuited it so accurately yesterday? Or, more disturbingly,

were they that sensitive to each other?

'No,' she said slowly. 'It was stupid.' Though her bade was to him, she

knew he had relaxed somewhat. She asked shortly, 'What do you

wait?'

'To say goodbye, what else?' Now it was his turn to mock. What was

that strange ache she felt?

'So, goodbye.' Insolent, repelling.

'Oh, no.' His low laugh, sounding briefly, still angrily. 'You're not

getting off that easily.'

Her head jerked up and around in startlement.

'What is that supposed to -' she began. But she lost the thread of her

question; indeed, she lost all remembrance of it, as Pierce thrust away

from the doorpost, strode her way, and pulled her by the shoulders

right to him.

Too surprised to react, she met his chest with a distinct jar. A golden

chest, sleek and sun-kissed smooth, flexing muscles and warm

against her cheek, with sweet-smelling air filling her nostrils instead

of filthy lakewater. Her shiver and his steadiness. Hand holding arms.

Hard, and snaking around her once again while she reacted

sluggishly, slowly, far, far too slowly, and she knew it even as his

hand slid under her hair to tilt back her head. His lips. Which touched

her nape with a lost gentleness, lost, as anything possible between

them was, too different, too different, man and woman, warm body to

warm body. Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, unexpected. So

unexpected, in fact, that she was intensely shocked. Not by his open

mouth, moving hard and urgent on hers, which in turn was feverishly

eager on his. No, she wasn't shocked by the kiss, she'd been kissed

far too many times for that type of reaction. She was shocked by her

own response to it, deep and heartfelt, acutely and passionately aware

of the hard muscles in his clenched thighs, the heartbeat she felt

pounding in a roar against her own breast, his bent head, those long,

moving fingers. Something uncontrolled in her loins leapt surging,

and it scared her half to death.

Not in control.

He raised his head slowly, reluctantly. Through blurred vision, she

could see his own blind shock, and knew that he was experiencing

the same jarring emotion that she had. He stared down at her for a

full pulsing moment, eyes dilated. Then, without a word, he released

her and walked out the door.

She stared at the empty rectangle, feeling a deep, bone-weakening

tremble in her limbs. Then she turned her head to one side,

whispering quietly, 'Damn you.' What it meant, not even she knew.

Roxanne found her a few minutes later, sitting on the edge of the bed

quite still, staring towards the floor at her feet, her face a white blank.

The brunette's voice was subdued as she asked, 'Are you ready to

go?'

'What?' Caprice said tiredly. She looked up, and then her eyes really

focused, and expression came back to her face, though not colour.

'Oh yes. Of course.' She calmly reached for the handle of her

suitcase, and followed her friend down the stairs.

Goodbyes and thanks were effusively made. Caprice felt the weary

lies even as she mouthed diem with a smile on her pale lips, but knew

of no other way to get through it. She spoke a few words with Mrs

Langston, that poised, attractive lady, and in her eyes was a dry

knowledge, which brought a disconcerted frown to the other woman.

Then there was the moment when Caprice was turning to Emory and

hugging him affectionately, regardless of the interested, speculating

look of the others. She stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, 'I want

to hear how things turn out between you and Petra. Let me know, all

right?'

She drew back, and he smiled down at her. 'All right. Drive carefully,

you two.'

'We will,' promised Roxanne, while Caprice caught a frank glare

from Petra. She smiled, positively sunny in the face of the other girl's

ill- concealed hatred.

Though she was terrible at reading maps, she held routes well in her

memory, and had to consult Roxanne for directions only a few times

on their way back. Their drive up had been nice, as the sun had been

shining, but on their return Caprice found the sun so fierce, she had

to resort to dark glasses to combat a headache and the bright glare.

'Cap,' said Roxanne in a small voice, when they had been travelling

for some time.

After a moment, stifling a sigh, she grunted, 'Mmm.'

'Are you glad you went?'

How should she answer that? She was too tired for any dissembling.

'No,' she said.

'Neither am I.' A long pause. Wind whistled at the speed of their

passage, a constant, high, inhuman sound. 'Cappy. Why did you

agree to come?'

She licked dry lips, and immediately gave it up, for the wind

whipped them dry again instantly. 'I didn't want you hurt.'

'Jeffrey.' Roxanne's voice was flat.

'He's an unreliable fool, and wholly likeable. But I wouldn't count on

devotion from him.'

She could sense the other girl's dark head jerking to stare at her. 'I

don't—really know you at all, do I?'

She said quite gently, 'No. But I shouldn't get worked up over it, if I

were you. I don't think I know myself very well, either.'

Roxanne said, quick and sudden, 'I think I'm glad I went after all. I

kept getting mad at you every time Jeffrey would pay attention to

you instead of me. But after this morning, I can't— like him as much

as I did.'

'He wasn't to know that I'd get so upset,' reminded Caprice.

'No, but anyone could see that you weren't eager to horse around.

Even Ralph said that you were so careful in the water, he hadn't the

heart to splash water at you. And instead of respecting that, Jeffrey

acted pettily. I was very angry at him.'

She shot her friend a smiling glance. 'It wasn't hard to tell.'

She could almost hear Roxanne's mind working, wheels grinding

busily away. They had known each other for a long time, but

somehow totally open conversations had been rare between them,

and Caprice rather felt that they were embarking on a new and fragile

beginning. The brunette tried another leading remark. 'Petra is furious

with you, did you notice?'

She couldn't resist the totally wicked grin that brought her face to

unexpected animation. 'Well,' she said composedly, increasing the

car's speed as they neared the Virginia state line, 'she shouldn't have

refused Emory's proposal, then, if she's going to get so worked up

about it.'

'You sly devil! Is that what's going on, then?' Roxanne was wanning

to her more and more.

'Yes, but Emory's quite innocent of it. He's just grateful I let him pour

out all his woes on my sympathetic shoulder. His perspective is not

exactly, well, penetrating. I can't wait to see what happens!'

Her friend laughed, and strangely sobered again, quickly. 'Cap,' said

Roxanne for a third time, and it was the most hesitant of all. 'I—came

to your room, and found you with Pierce. I left and came back again,

since I didn't want to disturb you.'

Dear heaven. A dark colour tinged her cheeks, a swift, jaw-clenched

reaction. Roxanne wouldn't have disturbed her unduly. Pierce had

been the one to completely destroy her composure. 'Forget what you

saw,' she said, from stiff lips. 'It was nothing.'

'It looked like a lot more than nothing to me,' Roxanne retorted.

'I said forget it.'

'You fell for him.'

'Let's change the conversation.' They were nearing the other girl's

home, thank God.

'But anyone could see it. And he was attracted to you, too. What's

wrong with that? He seems like a gorgeous man; you always have the

luck. And' I've never seen you so seriously interested in someone like

that. You should keep in contact with him.'

From a warm, relaxed sharing, to this sudden, shaking discomposure.

Couldn't the other girl see how this was upsetting her? She tightened

her trembling fingers on the steering wheel until the bone showed

white through the skin at her knuckles. 'It was nothing,' she repeated,

like a litany. 'He's not my type. Now please, Roxanne, just drop it!'

They pulled on to the street where the brunette lived. 'All right,'

Caprice heard her say, clearly confused. She pulled into the

driveway, and came to a stop near the front door. The silence

between them drew out until she turned her blonde head to stare at

the other girl, who was steadily studying what could be seen of her

face behind the dark glasses. 'I still don't know you very well, do I?'

Her lips trembled, obviously. With a quick gesture, she touched

Roxanne's shoulder, and then turned her face away. The other girl's

goodbye was gentle.

Caprice pulled into her own driveway twenty minutes later with the

haggard feeling that she had survived a war. Wearily she dragged out

her suitcase, and made her way inside the house. The late afternoon

led her to suspect that she would find things very quiet, and she was

right. After letting Liz know she was back, she went to her room,

dropped her suitcase uncaringly to the floor, locked her door behind

her and stripped. A hard yank had her bedcovers tugged back, and

she crept between her sheets, with a deep, shuddering sigh. The day

had been incredibly draining, and she concentrated single-mindedly

on falling asleep as quickly and easily as she possibly could.

Thum, THUM, thum, thum, THUM, went the beat of her heart in the

silence of the dark murky waters; all she could think of, and all she

could hear, was the beat of her heart going thum, THUM—wait a

minute. This wasn't a dream. She rolled over, knuckling groggily at

her eyes, and shouted, 'What?'

Ricky's voice resonated through the wood. 'You're late for supper.

Did you want any?'

She emitted something between a groan and a whimper, and briefly

stuck her head under her pillows and tried to think. She wasn't

hungry, but if she didn't get up now, she'd never sleep the night

through. 'I'll be down in a minute,' she mumbled to her sheet.

'Did you say something?'

'I said I'll be down in a minute!' That, irately.

She heard him laugh. 'Well, you didn't need to shout.'

Dragging herself out of bed was possibly one of the hardest things

she'd ever done, but a quick cold splash of water dispelled the grog-

giness, and she slipped on a fresh set of clothes with the neat

economy of a student well used to calculating such early morning

routines down to a second. After a few strokes at her hair with her

brush, she slipped out of her bedroom and ran lightly down to the

dining room, supper, and her family.