Lacy (8 page)

He was being tender, and she hated it. Hated
what was only pity mingled with conscience. She drew her underpants back on and
her garter belt over them. There was no self-consciousness left, at least.
Danny would like that. He didn't know she was a virgin. He'd even said that he
wouldn't want one. So all her problems were solved at once. She'd given her
virginity to the only man she'd ever love—-to pave the way for the only man who
loved her.

"Say something," he said quietly,
watching her, vaguely ashamed of his own loss of control. He hadn't meant to
let it happen. His big body still trembled softly with the force of his
fulfillment. Was it because she'd been a virgin that it had been so intense? he
wondered dazedly. He'd never felt it like that.

"I'm all right!" she said roughly.
Would the shame never stop? She knew he didn't love her, but she'd thought the
experience with him would be profound, reverent. And it had only been sex. Very
pleasurable, very nice. But without his love, it was only physical. She
wondered if she'd always remember it with the same degree of bitterness.

She pulled the chemise over her head and then
pulled on her dress. Behind her, she heard him putting his own clothes back on
and tried not to remember the beauty of his body without them.

Hard muscles covered with dark blond hair,
strength and beauty in every sinew. She'd never forget this. He would, of
course. There would be other women. Her eyes closed; she didn't want to know
about them. She was only one in a line, and that's all she would ever be. Now
she wouldn't even have the dignity of being the one that got away. And when it
was too late, she finally understood why he'd kept his distance. He'd wanted
her to keep her illusions. Now she had none left.

With her hand on the last button, she stepped
into her wide-heeled shoes and turned to face him with her chin proudly lifted.

"Thanks for the lesson," she said
quietly.

He actually winced. "No," he said
under his breath, searching her dark, wounded green eyes. "No, don't make
it into something cheap. It wasn't."

Her lower lip trembled, threatening to leave her
defenseless. She forced herself to smile. "Okay."

He moved forward, catching her arms as she tried
to get away, to run.

"Don't go," he said. "Don't let
that man make you into a plaything. He'll use you and throw you out."

She looked up, loving him with her eyes.
"So long, cowboy." She smiled faintly, sadly. "I loved
you,Turk," she whispered. She touched his hard face, feeling the muscles
harden. "I always will, until I die. I may have other men, but I'll never
give all of myself again."

"He'll hurt you!" he ground out,
hating this, hating the pain. He hadn't expected that it would hurt when she
left, that he wouldn't be able to take her in his stride and walk away.

She touched her fingers to his firm mouth.
"No. You've seen to that," she said, her voice exquisitely tender.
"No one could possibly have made it as perfect as you did. He won't hurt
me." Her eyes searched his one last time, sad and resigned. "I'll
love you until I die, Turk."

She turned and moved quickly away, so that he
wouldn't see the tears. It was good-bye. They both knew it.

Long after she'd left, Turk sat on the steps of
the barn loft, smoking a cigarette, his eyes blank and sad. After Lorene, he'd
never wanted anyone else, not permanently. He'd wanted to have Katy; he
couldn't deny that. He'd only kept his distance so long because he'd promised
Cole. But now...

His body ached. Despite the feverish fulfillment
he'd had with her, a completion he'd never known with another woman, ever, he
was hungry all over again. He remembered her small, taut breasts under his
chest, the nipples arousing him as they rubbed against his muscles...

He got up abruptly and took the cigarette
outside to grind it out under the heel of his boot. His face set into harsh
lines, he went back toward the house. He owed Cole so much, but there had to be
a way out of this. Maybe he could talk to her, maybe they could work something
out.

It had only been thirty minutes or so since
she'd left the barn, long enough to smoke three cigarettes. So it came as a
shock when he got to the house and found it empty.

Cassie came back into the kitchen from the
pantry to find him staring toward the staircase.

"If you looking for Miss Katy," she
said shortly, "she ain't here. She done gone, luggage and all, with that Chicago gangster."

He felt his heart sinking. He turned, his eyes
dark, quiet. "When?"

"Not five minutes ago." She sighed.
"Mr. Cole going to be like a wild man. And how is I going to tell Miss
Marion?" Her tired, lined eyes misted. "My baby, gone off with
that—that man! How come you let her go, Mr. Turk?" she demanded.

"She's of age "he said harshly, when
all his fighting instincts were screaming for him to go after the man and kill
him. But what could he offer her? He didn't want to get married. And after what
had happened, it would be impossible all the way around if she stayed here. His
friendship with Cole would be at risk; Katy would grow to hate him. And that Chicago man did seem sincere enough, explaining patiently to Turk the night before that
their late arrival had been innocent. He cared about Katy, he'd told Turk. He
wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Perhaps he'd marry her...

Why should that hurt so much? He turned on his
heels and stalked out of the house. Cassie was crying softly as he went out the
door.

The shock was almost too much for Marion
Whitehall. She came home to a tearful Cassie and was hit with the news just as
she put her purse down on the hall table.

Her elegant features contorted; her dark eyes
filled with tears under their frame of curling, silvery hair. "Gone?"
she exclaimed. "My Katy, gone? To—-to live with a man? Why didn't someone
stop her?"

"Mr. Turk got here too late, and Mr. Cole
ain't come home yet, that's why," Cassie moaned. "And I was out in
the garden. Nobody was here to stop her. Mr. Turk said she was of age—and he
just stomped off somewhere in a temper. Mr. Cole going to be so mad!"

Marion
sat down. She felt sick
all the way to her shoes. Katy.

Her baby. How could she do this? "Has Ben
come home?" she asked.

"I doesn't think so," Cassie said,
sobbing. "He didn't come down for breakfast, so I looks in his room, and
he ain't been in it. So I reckon he ain't here. Oh, Lord! What a terrible day
this is! What a terrible homecoming for Mr. Cole!"

Marion
felt the tears running
down her cheeks. "Did she leave a message? A note? Anything?"

"I'll go look," Cassie said, ambling
toward the staircase.

Just then, the front door flew open, and Ben
Whitehall came rushing through it, his dark eyes wild, his dark hair disheveled
like his once-immaculate gray suit. "I got it!" he burst out, "I
got it! I got it! He hired me!"

He grabbed Cassie and spun her around in an
impromptu dance, too exuberant to notice that nobody was smiling. "I'm
going to work for a brand spanking new San Antonio newspaper." He laughed.
"They hired me to write news. I've been out with the owner and his
daughter, and I have to go back—"He stopped, frowning as the somber faces
of his mother and housekeeper penetrated his enthusiasm. He let go of Cassie.
"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Your sister just left for Chicago," Marion said miserably, her face a study in desperation and shame. "To live with the
owner of a speakeasy!"

Chapter Four

Ben
's face froze. He
straightened, running an idle hand through his thick, dark hair. He stared at
his mother. "She left with that gangster?" he asked, as if he could
hardly believe what he'd heard. "Why didn't somebody stop her?"

"Turk apparently didn't get here in
time," Marion said quietly, her eyes wet with tears. "My little
girl.. .in that terrible place! Oh, Ben! What will become of her?"

"Now, Mama," Ben said awkwardly. He
knelt before her, rubbing her hands in his. "Mama, she's a big girl. Are
you sure they aren't getting married?"

"I don't know," she said.
"Cassie's looking for a note or something. Why did she do it?" she
asked, lifting eyes as dark as his own to question him. "She's been so
wild lately, but I never expected her to do anything like this. Ben—" she
leaned forward urgently "—Coleman will kill him."

"Yes, I know," he said. It was the
truth, too. Cole had a hell of a temper, and he doted on Katy. He wouldn't put
it past his big brother to get on the first train North with a pistol on his
hip.

"How are we going to tell him?" she
persisted, gnawing on her lower lip.

Ben forced a smile. Just his luck, he thought
miserably. Here he'd came home with the best news of his budding career, and
there was nobody to listen. Sister Katy had stolen his thunder.

"Here," Cassie called from the hall,
waving a piece of paper. "She did leave us a note!"

Marion
took it from her with
trembling hands and read it. "Mama and all," Katy had scribbled.
"Danny and I are engaged. We are going to Chicago today to meet his
parents. We'll invite you all to the wedding! Wish us luck. Love, Katy."

Ben met his mother's dark eyes. "Do you
believe it?"

She shook her head. "But it's important
that we make Coleman believe it... Do you understand me, Ben, Cassie?"

They both nodded. Cole's temper wasn't something
to arouse unnecessarily. It was frankly dangerous.

MEANWHILE KATY WAS SITTING
jauntily
beside Danny in the spiffy Alfa Romeo, forcing herself to laugh gaily and
pretend wild enthusiasm for the long trip North.

Beside her, Danny Marlone was grinning from ear
to ear, his complexion even darker against his perfect white teeth. He gave his
companion a warm glance and began to whistle.

"You'll love the Windy City, baby," he said. "I'll show you all the best places. There's a beach... You'll
love that. I've got this big house, all stone, on a hill overlooking the lake,
chock-full of servants. You'll have everything you want. Everything!"

"Darling, I did tell this one itty-bitty white
lie," she said, wanting everything aboveboard.

He caught her hand and pressed the palm to his
lips. "What itty-bitty white lie?"

She swallowed, trying not to think about Turk
and how it had been... "Well, so that my brother wouldn't kill you, I said
we were getting married."

"Darling! But this is so sudden!" He
chuckled, grinning at her.

She just stared, taken aback.

"It sounds great, doesn't it? Mr. and Mrs.
Danny Marlone," he said, clasping her fingers closer. He laid her open
palm on his thigh. "Yeah, I like that. We'll go whole hog, too.
Announcements in all the papers, only the best people at the wedding. Your
family can come. Your big brother can give you away. Oh, it'll be great,
honey!"

Her breath lodged in her chest. She couldn't
believe what she was hearing! "But I thought you just—just wanted to have
an affair!" she burst out, turning to face him.

"I want you," he said, and the look in
his eyes made her feel oddly humble. That wasn't lust. That was love, pure and
simple, and even while she marveled at being the recipient of it, she ached to
have that look from Turk. She never would, now. Never.

"For keeps?" she whispered.

He nodded. He pulled the car to the side of the
road and let the engine idle while he stared at her. "For keeps. Let's get
married."

"I'm not a virgin," she said
straight-out, without going into detail.

"Neither am I. So what?" he asked
bluntly.

Her cheeks went rosy. She smiled, feeling really
shy. "Well..."

He bent and put his mouth over hers. It wasn't
unpleasant, letting him kiss her. He ran his hands slowly over her shoulders,
down over her breasts, and that wasn't unpleasant, either.

He laughed. "You're not that experienced,
either, chick," he whispered as she flushed again. He winked at her as he
moved back under the wheel and put it in gear. "We'll get along okay. Now
sit back and watch this baby run!" He hit the accelerator, and the car
shot forward with a surge of pure power.