September Morning (9 page)

She didn't mention that she'd never done it alone before, or that she was making this trip without Blake's knowledge or permission. Maude and Phillip had protested but nobody had ever stopped Kathryn except Blake, and they couldn't find him before she left. She could still see Vivian Leeds's smug expression, and her pride felt wounded. If he was involved with the blonde, he should never have touched Kathryn…but, then, she'd provoked him. He'd accused her of it, and she couldn't deny it. All she didn't know was why.

“I'd like to use this as a location for a book,” he said after they reached the turnoff onto the Battery, with its stone sea wall, and drove along it to Old Charleston.

She smiled at his excited interest as he looked first out at the bay and then across her at the rows of stately old houses.

They passed the Lenwood Boulevard intersection and he peered through the slackening rain. “Do you know any of the history of these old houses?” he asked.

“Some of them. Just a second.” They drove on down South Battery Street and she pointed to a white two-story antebellum house on the right with long, elegant porches. “That one dates back to the 1820’s. It was built on palmetto logs sunk in mud in an antiearthquake design later used by Frank Lloyd Wright. It was one of only a few homes to survive the 1886 Charleston earthquake that destroyed most of the city.”

“How about that!” He laughed, gazing back toward the house enclosed by its neat white picket fence.

She gestured toward White Point Garden where a small group of people were just disembarking from a horse-drawn carriage. “There are several carriage tours of the old part of town,” she told him. “They're fun. I'm just sorry we don't have time today, but, then, it's not really the weather for it, either.”

He sighed. “There wasn't a cloud in the sky when I left home.”

“That's life,” she told him. “Look on the left over there,” she added when traffic let her turn onto Meeting Street. “That first house was once owned by one of the Middletons who owned Middleton Place Gardens. The second house is built in the Charleston ‘double house’ style—brick under cypress weather-boarding. It's late eighteenth century.”

“Lady, you know your architecture,” he said with grudging praise.

She laughed, relaxing in the plush leather seat. “Not like Aunt Hattie did. She taught me. A little farther down, there's a good example of the Adams-style construction—the Russell House. It's now the headquarters of the Historic Charleston Foundation.”

He watched for it, and she caught a glimpse of smiling appreciation in his eyes as they studied the three-story building through its brick and wrought-iron wall.

“I wish we had time to go through Market Street,” she said regretfully as she gave her attention to traffic. “There's a place where you can get every kind of food at individual stalls, and there are all kinds of shops and little art galleries…” She sighed. “But I guess we'd better stop at a restaurant a little closer to home. The wind's getting up, and I don't think the rain's any closer to quitting.”

“Maybe on the trip back,” he said with a smile, and winked at her.

She smiled back, flicking the radio on to a local station. The music blared for a few seconds, and then the weather report came on. She listened with a face that grew more solemn by the minute. Flash-flood warnings were being announced for the area around King's Fort as well as the rivers near Charleston.

“I hope you're not hungry,” she murmured as she turned back into Rutledge Avenue. “We've got to get home, before that flooding covers the bridges.”

“Sounds adventurous,” he chuckled, watching her intense concentration as she merged into traffic.

“It is. Are you hungry?” she persisted gently.

“I was rather thinking along the lines of a chilled prawn cocktail,” he admitted with a grin.

“I'll have Mrs. Johnson fix you one when we get home,” she promised. “We keep it, fresh-frozen, because it's Blake's favorite dish.”

He stared out the window at the gray, darkening skies, lit by shop lights and car lights. “Some of those trees are bending pretty low,” he remarked.

“I've seen them bend almost to the ground during a hurricane,” she recalled nervously. “That's what this is about to be, I'm afraid. If I thought I could spare the time, I'd stop and call home. But I'm not going to risk it.”

“You're the driver, honey,” he said.

She smiled wryly. If Blake had been with her, he'd be at the wheel now, whether or not it was his car, taking over. She shifted in the seat. Comparisons were unfair, and she had no right to even be thinking about Blake now that he was practically engaged. But she couldn't help wondering what was going to happen when she got home. As Phillip had once said, Blake didn't particularly care how many people happened to be around if he lost his temper.

The rain followed them all the way to King's Fort, and despite Larry's periodic reassurances, Kathryn couldn't help worrying. The little sports car, in spite of its brilliant engineering and design, was too light for some of the deep puddles of water they soared through. Once, Kathryn almost went into a mailbox as the car hydroplaned over the center line. She recovered it in time, but she was getting more nervous by the minute. There was no place to stop until they got to King's Fort, or she'd have given it up.

She gritted her teeth and drove on, refusing to let her passenger see how frightened she really was. If only Blake had been with her!

They were approaching the first river bridge now, and she leaned forward with anticipation, peering through the heavy rain as she tried to see if the bridge was still passable.

“How does it look?” he asked. “I think I can still see the road…I can!”

“Yes,” she breathed, relieved. She geared down to get a better view of the rising water. It was already over the banks and only inches below the low bridge. A few more minutes…she concentrated on getting across and didn't think about it.

“Is it much farther to the next bridge?” he asked.

“About twenty miles or so,” she said tightly. He didn't say anything, but she knew he was thinking the same thing she was—that those few minutes might mean the difference between getting across or not.

There was almost no traffic on the road now. They only met two vehicles, and one of them was the state police.

“I hate to mention this,” Larry said quietly, “but what if we can't get across the second bridge?”

She licked her dry lips “We'll have to go back to King's Fort and spend the night in the hotel,” she said, thinking ahead to Blake's fury when he caught up with her. “But the river shouldn't be that high yet,” she said soothingly. “I think we can make it.”

“Just in case,” he asked with a speaking glance, “what kind of temper does your guardian have?”

She tightened her hands on the wheel without answering.

When they reached the long river bridge, her worst fears were confirmed. Two uniformed men were just putting up a roadblock.

She rolled down her window as one of them approached. He touched his hat respectfully. “Sorry, ma'am,” he said quietly, “you'll have to detour back to King's Fort. The river's up over the bridge.”

“But it's the only road into Greyoaks,” she protested weakly, knowing no argument was going to open up the road.

The uniformed man smiled apologetically. “The Hamilton estate? Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid it is. But there's no way across until the water level drops. I'm sorry.”

She sighed. “Well, I'll have to go into King's Fort and call home…”

“You're out of luck there, too,” the officer said with a rueful grin. “The telephone lines are down. One way or another, it's been a rough day. I wish we could help.”

She smiled. “Thanks anyway.”

She rolled the window back up and hesitated just a minute before she put the small car into reverse, turned it neatly around, and started back toward King's Fort.

“I feel bad about this,” Larry said gently.

“Oh, don't be silly,” she replied with a smile, “it's all right. We'll just be…a little late getting home, that's all.”

He studied her wan expression. “I'll explain it to him,” he promised.

She nodded, but under her brave smile she felt like a naughty student on her way to the principal's office. Blake wasn't going to understand, and she sincerely hoped the river didn't go down until he cooled off.

Chapter Six

K
athryn pulled up in front of the King's Fort Inn and cut off the engine. She sat there for a minute with her hands tight on the wheel.

“Well, we tried,” she said wryly, meeting Larry's sympathetic blue gaze. “I hope my insurance is paid up.”

“Will he really be that mad?” he asked.

She drew in a hard breath. “I didn't have permission to come after you,” she admitted. “I think I'm old enough to do without it. But Blake doesn't.”

He patted her slender hand where it rested on the steering wheel. “I'll protect you,” he promised, smiling.

She couldn't return the smile. The thought of Larry protecting her from Blake was almost comical.

The rain was still coming down as they ran into the hotel, and Kathryn held up her raincoat, making a tent over her wild, loosened hair. She laughed with exhilaration as they stopped under the awning to catch their breath.

He grinned down at her, his red hair unruly and beaded with rain. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Not very fancy, I'm afraid.” She laughed, putting a tentative hand up to her disorderly hair. “I must look like a witch.”

He shook his head. “Lovely, as always.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She darted a quick look at the hotel entrance. “It's the only hotel in town,” she sighed, “and I'm sure we're going to cause some comment, but just ignore the stares and go ahead. We'll pretend we don't see any familiar faces.”

“This town isn't all that small, surely,” he remarked.

She smiled uncomfortably. “It's not. But, you see, the headquarters of the textile conglomerate is located here, and the family is fairly well known.”

“I should have realized. Sorry.”

“No need. Let's go in, shall we? You can get your bag later.”

He followed her into the carpeted lobby. “What will you do for a change of clothes?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Do without, I suppose. Maybe in the…” Her voice trailed off, and she paled visibly.

Larry looked at her with a puzzled frown. She was staring at a big, dark man who was sitting in an armchair by the window reading a paper. He seemed vaguely weary, as if he'd been in that particular chair a long time. Even at a distance he looked threatening. As Larry watched, he deliberately put down the paper and got to his feet, to saunter over toward them.

Larry knew without being told who the man was. Kathryn's young face was stiff with apprehension. “Blake, I presume?” he murmured under his breath.

Kathryn's fingers dug into her slacks, making indentations in the soft beige fabric. She couldn't get the words out.

Blake rammed his big hands into his pockets, towering over her, his face expressionless. “Ready to go home?” he asked curtly.

“How…did you find me?” she whispered.

His dark eyes swept over her face. “I could find you in New York City at rush hour,” he said quietly. Those fierce eyes shot across to Larry's face, and the younger man fought the urge to back away. He thought he'd met every kind of personality in the book, but this man was something beyond his experience. Authority clung to him like the brown slacks that hugged his muscular thighs, like the red knit shirt that emphasized the powerful muscles of his chest and arms.

“Donavan, isn't it?” Blake asked in a cutting tone.

“Y-yes, sir.” Larry felt like a boy again. There was something intimidating about Blake Hamilton, and he knew without being told that he hadn't made the best of first impressions.

“The bridge is underwater,” Kathryn said softly.

“I know.” He started toward the exit, leaving them to follow.

“What about my poor car?” Kathryn persisted.

“Lock it and leave it,” he threw over his shoulder. “We'll send back for it when the river goes down.”

Kathryn looked at Larry helplessly. He nodded, and left them in front of the hotel under the awning. “I'll get my suitcase out, and lock the car for you,” he told her.

She stood beside Blake, miserable and shivering from the chill of the rain.

“Why?” he asked, the single blunt word making her want to cry.

She sucked in a steadying breath. “It was only a short drive.”

“With hurricane warnings out,” he growled, looking down at her with barely contained fury behind his half-closed eyelids.

She drew her eyes away. “How are we going to get home?” she asked weakly.

“I ought to let you and your boyfriend walk,” he replied coldly, staring out at the traffic in the wet street.

She looked down at her wet canvas shoes and then back up at him. He was only wearing a lightweight jacket with his shirt and trousers, and no raincoat.

“Don't you have an umbrella?” she asked gently.

He shifted his big shoulders, still not looking at her. “I didn't take time to look for it.” His eyes glittered down at her, and his face hardened. “Have you any idea how long I've been sitting here wondering where you were?” he asked harshly.

She reached out and tentatively touched his sleeve. “I'm sorry, Blake, really I am. I wanted to call, but I was afraid to take the time…”

She suddenly noticed the new lines in his face, the bloodshot eyes. “Were you really worried?” she asked.

One big hand came out and ruffled her hair with rough affection. “What do you think?” he asked. Something in his face seemed to relax as he looked down into her soft eyes. “I've been out of my mind, Kate,” he whispered, with such emotion in his voice that her heart seemed to lift up and fly.

“Blake…”

“Here I am!” Larry said merrily, joining them with his suitcase in his hand. “All locked up.”

Kathryn folded her arms across her chest and tried to look calm. “How are we going to get across the river?” she asked Blake.

“I chartered a helicopter,” he said with a wry smile.

She smiled. Leave it to Blake to make the most insurmountable problem simple.