Country Brides (9 page)

“I thought I'd find you out here.”

Rorie's whole body tensed as she recognized the voice of the man who'd joined her.

“Hello, Clay.”

R
orie injected a cheerful note into her voice. She turned around, half expecting Kate to be with him. The two had been inseparable from the minute Clay had arrived. It was just as well that Kate was around, since her presence prevented Clay and Rorie from giving in to any temptation.

Clay's hands settled on her shoulders and Rorie flinched involuntarily at his touch. With noticeable regret, Clay dropped his hands.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

She nodded. “I didn't think I would, which tells you how prejudiced I've been about country life, but I've been pleasantly surprised.”

“I'm glad.” His hands clenched briefly at his sides, then he flexed his fingers a couple of times. “I would've danced with you myself, but—”

She stopped him abruptly. “Clay, no. Don't explain…it isn't necessary. I understand.”

His eyes held hers with such tenderness that she had to look away. The magical quality was in the air again—Rorie could feel it as forcefully as if the stars had spelled it out across the heavens.

“I don't think you do understand, Rorie,” Clay said, “but it doesn't matter. You'll be gone in a couple of days and both our lives will go back to the way they were meant to be.”

Rorie agreed with a quick nod. It was too tempting, standing in the moonlight with Clay. Much too tempting. The memory of another night in which they'd stood and gazed at the stars returned with powerful intensity. Rorie realized that even talking to each other, alone like this, was dangerous.

“Won't Kate be looking for you?” she asked carefully.

“No. Luke Rivers is dancing with her.”

For a moment she closed her eyes, not daring to look up at Clay. “I guess I'll be going inside now. I just came out to catch my breath and cool down a little.”

“Dance with me first—here in the moonlight.”

A protest rose within her, but the instant Clay slid his arms around her waist, Rorie felt herself give in. Kate would have him the rest of her life, but Rorie only had these few hours. Almost against her will, her hands found his shoulders, slipping around his neck with an ease that brought a sigh of pleasure to her lips. Being held by Clay shouldn't feel this good.

“Oh, Rorie,” he moaned as she settled into his embrace.

They fitted together as if they'd been created for each other. His chin touched the top of her head and he caressed her hair with his jaw.

“This is a mistake,” Rorie murmured, closing her eyes, savoring the warm, secure feel of his arms.

“I know…”

But neither seemed willing to release the other.

His mouth grazed her temple and he kissed her there. “God help me, Rorie, what am I going to do? I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I can't sleep, I hardly eat…” His voice was raw, almost savage.

“Oh, please,” she said with a soft cry. “We can't…we mustn't even talk like this.” His gray eyes smouldered above hers, and their breaths merged as his mouth hovered so close to her own.

“I vowed I wouldn't touch you again.”

Rorie looked away. She'd made the same promise to herself. But it wasn't in her to deny him now, although her mind searched frantically for the words to convince him how wrong they were to risk hurting Kate—and each other.

His hands drifted up from her shoulders, his fingertips skimming the sides of her neck, trailing over her cheeks and through the softness of her hair. He placed his index finger over her lips, gently stroking them apart.

Rorie moaned. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Clay's left hand dug into her shoulders as her tongue caressed the length of his finger, drawing it into her mouth and sucking it gently. She needed him so much in that moment, she could have wept.

“Just this once…for these few minutes,” he pleaded, “let me pretend you're mine.” His hands cupped her face and slowly brought her mouth to his, smothering her whimper of part welcome, part protest.

A long series of kisses followed. Deep, relentless, searching kisses that sent her heart soaring. Kisses that only made the coming loneliness more painful. A sob swelled within her and tears burned her eyes as she twisted away and tore her mouth from his.

“No,” she cried, covering her face with her hands and turning her back to him. “Please, Clay. We shouldn't be doing this.”

He was silent for so long that Rorie suspected he'd left her. She inhaled a deep, calming breath and dropped her hands limply to her sides.

“It would be so easy to love you, Rorie.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head vigorously as she faced him again. “I 'm not the right person for you—it's too late for that. You've got Kate.” She couldn't keep the pain out of her voice. Anything between them was hopeless, futile. Within a day or two her car would be repaired and she'd vanish from his life as suddenly as she'd appeared.

Clay fell silent, his shoulders stiff and resolute as he stood silhouetted against the light of the Grange Hall. His face was masked by shadows and Rorie couldn't read his thoughts. He drew in a harsh breath.

“You're right, Rorie. We can't allow this…attraction between us to get out of hand. I promise you, by all I hold dear, that I won't kiss you again.”

“I'll…do my part, too,” she assured him, feeling better now that they'd made this agreement.

His hand reached for hers and clasped it warmly. “Come on, I'll walk you back to the hall. We're going to be all right. We'll do what we have to do.”

Clay's tone told her he meant it. Relieved, Rorie silently made the same promise to herself.

Rorie slept late the next morning, later than she would have thought possible. Mary was busy with lunch preparations by the time she made her way downstairs.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Mary immediately asked.

In response, Rorie curtsyed and danced a few steps with an imaginary partner, clapping her hands.

Mary tried to hide a smile at Rorie's antics. “Oh, get away with you now. All I was looking for was a yes or a no.”

“I had a great time.”

“It was nothing like those city hotspots, I'll wager.”

“You're right about that,” Rorie told her, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“You seeing Kate today?”

Rorie shook her head and popped a piece of bread in the toaster. “She's got a doctor's appointment this morning and a teachers' meeting this afternoon. She's going to stop by later if she has a chance, but if not I'll be seeing her for sure tomorrow.” Rorie intended to spend as much time as she could with Clay's fiancée. She genuinely enjoyed her company, and being with her served two useful purposes. It helped keep Rorie occupied, and it prevented her from being alone with Clay.

“What are you going to do today, then?” Mary asked, frowning.

Rorie laughed. “Don 't worry. Whatever it is, I promise to stay out of your way.”

The housekeeper gave a snort of amusement—or was it relief?

“Actually, I thought I'd finish putting the data Clay needs for his pedigree-research program into the computer. There isn't much left and I should be done by this afternoon.”

“So if someone comes looking for you, that's where you'll be?”

“That's where I'll be,” Rorie echoed. She didn't know who would “come looking for her,” as Mary put it. The housekeeper made it sound as though a posse was due to arrive any minute demanding to know where the Franklin men were hiding Rorie Campbell.

Taking her coffee cup with her, Rorie walked across the yard and into the barn. Once more, she was impressed with all the activity that went on there. She'd come to know several of the men by their first names and returned their greetings with a smile and a wave.

As before, she found the office empty. She set down her cup while she turned on the computer and collected Clay's data. She'd just started to type it in when she heard someone enter the room. Pausing, she twisted around.

“Rorie.”

“Clay.”

They were awkward with each other now. Almost afraid.

“I didn't realize you were here.”

She stood abruptly. “I 'll leave…”

“No. I came up to get something. I'll be gone in a minute.”

She nodded and sat back down. “Okay.”

He walked briskly to his desk and sifted through the untidy stacks of paper. His gaze didn't waver from the task, but his jaw was tight, his teeth clenched. Impatience marked his every move. “Kate told me you're involved with a man in San Francisco. I…didn't know.”

“I'm not exactly involved with him—at least not in the way you're implying. His name is Dan Rogers, and we've been seeing each other for about six months. He's divorced. The MG is his.”

Clay's mouth thinned, but he still didn't look at her. “Are you in love with him?”

“No.”

Lowering his head, Clay rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I had no right to ask you that. None. Forgive me, Rorie.” Then, clutching his papers, he stalked out of the office without a backward glance.

Rorie was so shaken by the encounter that when she went back to her typing, she made three mistakes in a row and had to stop to regain her composure.

When the phone rang, she ignored it, knowing Mary or one of the men would answer it. Soon afterward, she heard running footsteps behind her and swivelled around in the chair.

A breathless Skip bolted into the room. Shoulders heaving, he pointed in the direction of the telephone.

“It's for you,” he panted.

“Me?” It could only be Dan.

He nodded several times, his hand braced theatrically against his heart.

She picked up the extension. “Hello,” she said, her fingers closing tightly around the receiver. “This is Rorie Campbell.”

“Miss Campbell,” came the unmistakable voice of George, the mechanic in Riversdale, “let me put it to you like this. I've got good news and bad news.”

“Now what?” she cried, pushing her hair off her forehead with an impatient hand. She had to get out of Elk Run.

“My man picked up the water pump for your car in Portland just like we planned.”

“Good.”

George sighed heavily. “There's a minor problem, though.”

“Minor?” she repeated hopefully.

“Well, not that minor actually.”

“Oh, great…Listen, George, I'd prefer not to play guessing games with you. Just tell me what happened and how long it's going to be before I can get out of here.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Campbell, but they shipped the wrong part. It'll be two, possibly three more days.”

“W
hat's the matter?” Skip asked when Rorie indignantly replaced the receiver.

She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply, battling down the angry frustration that boiled inside her. The problem wasn't George's fault, or Skip's, or Kate's, or anyone else's.

“Rorie?” Skip asked again.

“They shipped the wrong part for the car,” she said flatly. “I 'm going to be stuck here for another two or possibly three days.”

Skip didn't look the least bit perturbed at this information. “Gee, Rorie, that's not so terrible. We like having you around—and you like it here, don't you?”

“Yes, but…” How could she explain that her reservations had nothing to do with their company, the farm or even with country life? She couldn't very well blurt out that she was falling in love with his brother, that she had to escape before she ruined their lives.

“But what?” Skip asked.

“My vacation.”

“I know you had other plans, but you can relax and enjoy yourself here just as well, can't you?”

She didn't attempt to answer him, but closed her eyes and nodded, faintly.

“Well, listen, I've got to get back to work. Do you need me for anything?”

She shook her head. When the office door closed, Rorie sat down in front of the computer again and poised her fingers over the keyboard. She sat like that, unmoving, for several minutes as her thoughts churned. What was she going to do? Every time she came near Clay the attraction was so strong that trying to ignore it was like swimming upstream. Rorie had planned on leaving Elk Run the following day. Now she was trapped here for God only knew how much longer.

She got up suddenly and started pacing the office floor. Dan hadn't called her, either. She might have vanished from the face of the earth as far as he was concerned. The stupid car was his, after all, and the least he could do was make some effort to find out what had happened. Rorie knew she wasn't being entirely reasonable, but she was caught up in the momentum of her anger and frustration.

Impulsively she snatched up the telephone receiver, had the operator charge the call to her San Francisco number and dialed Dan's office.

“Rorie, thank God you phoned,” Dan said.

The worry in his voice appeased her a little. “The least you could've done was call me back,” she fumed.

“I tried. My secretary apparently wrote down the wrong number. I've been waiting all this time for you to call me again. Why didn't you? What on earth is going on?”

She told him in detail, from the stalled car to her recent conversation with the mechanic. She didn't tell him about Clay Franklin and the way he made her feel.

“Rorie, baby, I'm so sorry.”

She nodded mutely, close to tears. If she wasn't so dangerously close to falling in love with Clay, none of this would seem such a disaster.

The silence lengthened while Dan apparently mulled things over. “Shall I come and get you?” he finally asked.

“With what?” she asked with surprising calm. “My car? You were the one who convinced me it would never make this trip. Besides, how would you get the MG back?”

“I'd figured something out. Listen, I can't let you sit around in some backwoods farm town. I'll borrow a car or rent one.” He hesitated, then expelled his breath in a short burst of impatience. “Damn, forget that. I can't come.”

“You can't?”

“I've got a meeting tomorrow afternoon. It's important—I can't miss it. I'm sorry, Rorie, I really am, but there's nothing I can do.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said, defeat causing her voice to dip slightly. “I understand.” In a crazy kind of way she did. Dan was a rising stockbroker, so career moves were critical to him, more important than rescuing Rorie, the woman he claimed to love…Somehow Rorie couldn't picture Clay making the same decision. In her heart she knew Clay would come for her the second she asked.

They spoke for a few more minutes before Rorie ended the conversation. She felt trapped, as though the walls were closing in around her. So far she and Clay had managed to disguise their feelings, but they wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer before someone guessed. Kate wasn't blind, and neither was Mary.

“Rorie?” Clay called her name as he burst into the office. “What happened? Skip told me you were all upset—something about the car? What is it?”

“George called.” She whirled around and pointed toward the phone. “The water pump arrived just like it was supposed to—but it's the wrong one.”

Clay dropped his gaze, then removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I 'm sorry.”

“I am, too, but that doesn't help, does it?” The conversation with Dan hadn't improved matters, and taking her frustration out on Clay wasn't going to change anything, either. “I 'm stuck here, and this is the last place on earth I want to be.”

“Do you think I like it any better?” he challenged.

Rorie blinked wildly at the tears that burned for release.

“I wish to God your car had broken down a hundred miles from Elk Run,” he said. “Before you bombarded your way into my home, my life was set. I knew what I wanted, where I was headed. In the course of a few days you've upended my whole world.”

Emotion clogged Rorie's throat at the unfairness of his accusations. She hadn't asked for the MGB to break down where it had. The minute she could, she planned to get out of his life and back to her own.

No, she decided, they couldn't wait that long—it was much too painful for them both. She had to leave now. “I'll pack my things and be gone before evening.”

“Just where do you plan to go?”

Rorie didn't know. “Somewhere…anywhere.” She had to leave for his sake, as well as hers.

“Go back inside the house, Rorie, before I say or do something else I'll regret. You're right—we can't be in the same room together. At least not alone.”

She started to walk past him, eyes downcast, her heart heavy with misery. Unexpectedly his hand shot out and caught her fingers, stopping her.

“I didn't mean what I said.” His voice rasped, warm and hoarse. “None of it. Forgive me, Rorie.”

Her heart raced when his hand touched hers. It took all the restraint Rorie could muster, which at the moment wasn't much, to resist throwing herself into his arms and holding on for the rest of her life.

“Forgive me, too,” she whispered.

“Forgive you?” he asked, incredulous. “No, Rorie. I'll thank God every day of my life for having met you.” With that, he released her fingers, slowly, reluctantly. “Go now, before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

Rorie ran from the office as though a raging fire were licking at her heels, threatening to consume her.

And in a way, it was.

For two days, Rorie managed to stay completely out of his way. They saw each other only briefly and always in the company of others. Rorie was sure they gave Academy Award performances every time they were together. They laughed and teased and joked and the only one who seemed to suspect things weren't quite right was Mary.

Rorie was grateful the housekeeper didn't question her, but the looks she gave Rorie were frowningly thoughtful.

Three days after the Grange dance, Mary's sister arrived in Riversdale. Revealing more excitement than Rorie had seen in their acquaintance, Mary fussed with her hair and dress, and as soon as she'd finished the lunch dishes she was off.

Putting on Mary's well-worn apron, Rorie looped the long strands around her waist twice and set to work. Kate joined her mid-afternoon, carrying a large bag of ingredients for the dessert she was going to prepare.

“I've been cooking from the moment Mary left,” Rorie told Kate, pushing the damp hair from her forehead as she stirred wine into a simmering sauce. Rorie intended to dazzle Clay and Skip with her one speciality—seafood fettuccine. She hadn't admitted to Mary how limited her repertoire of dishes was, although the housekeeper had repeatedly quizzed her about what she planned to make for dinner. Rorie had insisted it was a surprise. She'd decided that this rich and tasty dish stood a good chance of impressing the Franklin men.

“And I'm making Clay his favorite dessert—homemade lemon meringue pie.” Kate reached for the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and six bright yellow lemons rolled out.

Rorie was impressed. The one and only time she'd tried to bake a lemon pie, she'd used a pudding mix. Apparently, Kate took the homemade part seriously.

“Whatever you're cooking smells wonderful,” Kate said, stepping over to the stove. Crab, large succulent shrimp and small bite-sized pieces of sole were waiting in the refrigerator, to be added to the sauce just before the dish was served.

Kate was busy whipping up a pie crust when the phone rang several minutes later. She glanced anxiously at the wall, her fingers sticky with flour and lard.

Rorie looked over at her. “Do you suppose I should answer that?”

“You'd better. Clay usually relies on Mary to catch the phone for him.”

Rorie lifted the receiver before the next peal. “Elk Run.”

“That Miss Campbell?”

Rorie immediately recognized the voice of the mechanic from Riversdale. “Yes, this is Rorie Campbell.”

“Remember I promised I'd call you when the part arrived? Well, it's here, all safe and sound, so you can stop fretting. Just came in a few minutes ago—haven't even had a chance to take it out of the box. Thought you'd want to know.”

“It's the right one this time?”

“Here, I'll check it now…Yup, this is it.”

Rorie wasn't sure what she felt. Relief, yes, but regret, too. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“It's a little late for me to be starting the job this afternoon. My son's playing a Little League game and I promised him I'd be there. I'll get to this first thing in the morning and should be finished before noon. Give me a call before you head over here and I'll make sure everything's running the way it should.”

“Yes, I'll do that. Thanks again.” Slowly Rorie replaced the receiver. She leaned against the wall sighing deeply. At Kate's questioning gaze, she smiled weakly and explained, “That was the mechanic. The water pump for my car arrived and he's going to be working on it first thing in the morning.”

“Rorie, that's great.”

“I think so, too.” She did—and she didn't. Part of her longed to flee Elk Run, and another part of her realized that no matter how far she traveled, no matter how many years passed, she'd never forget these days with Clay Franklin.

“Then tonight's going to be your last evening here,” Kate murmured. “Selfish as it sounds, I really hate the thought of you leaving.”

“We can keep in touch.”

“Oh, yes, I'd like that. I'll send you a wedding invitation.”

That reminder was the last thing Rorie needed. But once she was on the road again, she could start forgetting, she told herself grimly.

“Since this is going to be your last night, we should make it special,” Kate announced brightly. “We 're going to use the best china and set out the crystal wineglasses.”

Rorie laughed, imagining Mary's face when she heard about it.

Even as she spoke, Kate was walking toward the dining-room china cabinet. In a few minutes, she'd set the table, cooked the sauce for the pie and poured it into the cooling pie shell that sat on the counter. The woman was a marvel!

Rorie was busy adding the final touches to the fettuccine when Clay and Skip came in through the back door.

“When's dinner?” Skip wanted to know. “I'm starved.”

“Soon.” Rorie tested the boiling noodles to be sure they'd cooked all the way through but weren't overdone.

“Upstairs with the both of you,” Kate said, shooing them out of the kitchen. “I want you to change into something nice.”

“We're supposed to dress up for dinner?” Skip complained. He'd obviously recovered from any need to impress her with his sartorial elegance, Rorie noted, remembering that he'd worn his Sunday best that first night. “We already washed—what more do you want?”

“For you to change your clothes. We're having a celebration tonight.”

“We are?” The boy looked from Kate to Rorie and then back again.

“That's right,” Kate continued, undaunted by his lack of enthusiasm. “And when we're through with dinner, there's going to be a farewell party for Rorie. We're going to send her off country-style.”

“Rorie's leaving?” Skip sounded shocked. “But she just got here.”

“The repair shop from Riversdale called. Her car will be finished tomorrow and she'll be on her way.”

Clay's eyes burned into Rorie's. She tried to avoid looking at him, but when she did chance to meet his gaze, she could feel his distress. His jaw went rigid, and his mouth tightened as though he was bracing himself against Kate's words.