After the Music (11 page)

"I'll leave you to your work, oil baron," she said as she mounted her horse. "I'm going to find Al."

"Enjoy his company while you can," he returned, mounting his own horse with lazy grace. "You haven't got long."

"What was your father like, Thorn?" she asked suddenly, curious.

"Like me," he said shortly.

"No wonder your mother is the way she is," she said sadly. "She must have been devastated when he died."

He frowned. "What a hell of a way she has of showing it!"

"Al showed me a picture of your father; he's told me things about him." Her hand lifted to shade her eyes from the sun. "He must have been a strong man. There aren't a lot of strong men in the world. I imagine she's been looking all this time for someone who halfway measured up to him, without the least success. She's relatively young, Al said. What a pitiful way to live."

He glared at her, but he was listening. "She might have showed him she cared while he was still alive. He'd be alive, but for her."

Her soft eyes wandered all over him, loving every rippling muscle, even the stubborn set of his jaw. He'd changed her whole life so quickly. "Perhaps he made it impossible for her to show it. Perhaps she only wanted to capture his attention. And afterward, after it happened, the guilt would have been terrible. Some men take a lot of forgetting," she said.

"How the hell would you know?" he challenged.

He was back to his old impossible self. She shrugged delicately and rode away without answering. If she'd said anything else, she might as well be talking to the wind. She rode back to the path where she'd left Al, dismounted, and sat on a stump waiting for him to return.

She could hardly believe how fast it had happened. She hardly knew Thorn, for heaven's sake! But he'd worn on her nerves and her emotions and her heart more in the past few days than most men had in months, even years. She wanted him, and it was oddly comforting to realize that he felt the same hunger for her. It was a dead-end street, of course. There was no possible future in it. But while she could see him and be near him, she took a terrible pleasure in her growing love for him. There was a lot of man under that cruel, cynical exterior. She was only sorry he was her enemy, that he'd never let her see behind his mask. It would be sheer heaven to be loved by such a man.

Al appeared a few minutes later, grinning. "We got the license," he said, giddy with excitement. "And we decided to set the date. We're getting married the day after Easter."

"That's Monday!" Sabina exclaimed.

"Yes! Oh, God, I'm so happy," he burst out, and danced her around the clearing in a mad little waltz.

Sabina laughed and danced, and tried not to think of how soon her bubble was going to burst. When Al broke the news to Thorn, it would all be over, and she'd never see the oil baron again.

"How about the ring?" she exclaimed.

"You can give it back when we drive to New Orleans Monday morning," he explained. "We want you to come along and stand up with us at the service. Okay?"

"I'd love to! Jessica and you. It's been my fondest dream."

"Mine, too, but it wouldn't have been possible without your help," Al said solemnly. "Thorn would have stopped us. This is the only way it could have worked. Has he been at you again?"

"Not really. We just talked," she lied, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Good." Al let her go and mounted his horse, watching her mount beside him.

"But I've made him mad again, I'm afraid"

"How?"

"I told him your mother must miss your father terribly and be looking for someone who measures up to him," she murmured.

"That's what I've always thought," he replied. "Dad was one of a kind."

"Like Thorn," she said involuntarily.

He studied her, frowning. "Sabina, don't lose your heart to him. He hasn't got one of his own."

"I know that already," she said. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Besides, a few days from now, it will all be a memory." That was a sobering thought. "Hey, I'll race you back!"

"You're on!"

And they galloped back to the house.

Thorn went out that evening, resplendent in his evening wear, and Sabina felt a surge of mad jealousy as she imagined him with some slinky blonde like the one he'd brought to Al's party.

"He does draw women," Al muttered later as they watched television. "He always has. But not one of them touches him emotionally. He says he'll never let any woman have a hold on him."

"I imagine he must have reason, don't you?" she said. "Can I play the piano?"

"What? Sure!" He turned off the television. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take advantage of Thorn's absence and go call Jessica."

"Mind? Get out of here and do it! I'm delighted to have some time to myself. Not that you aren't good company," she added.

He chuckled. "Don't wear out the keys."

"Not me."

He left and she played late into the night, her fingers touching the keys that Thorn's fingers had touched. It was a wildly exhilarating thought, and made her hungrier than ever just for the sight of him. But when she finished and went to bed, he still hadn't come home.

He wasn't at breakfast, either, but Al looked disgruntled as they dug into the hearty egg and bacon platter that Juan had prepared.

"Thorn's having a party Saturday night," he muttered. "And he's invited Jessica."

"Uh, oh. Think he's suspicious?" she asked quickly.

"I don't know. He says the party is being held to announce our engagement. But it's all a rushed-up job, with telephoned invitations. And it's not like Thorn to give in so easily. I think we've been discreet enough, but he's made some long-distance calls, and I overheard something that worries me." Al lifted his head, and his eyes were narrow with concern. "Listen, what could he find out about you if he dug really deep?"

She stared at him blankly. Her mind whirled, grasping. No, she thought wildly, no he couldn't find out anything after all these years. "Well...not much," she faltered. "Why?"

"Because he's in a good mood this morning. And that makes me suspicious."

She glowered at her toast. "Maybe it was just good humor left over from his night out," she said.

Al looked at her long and hard, but he didn't say a word.

A visiting cattleman stopped by after lunch, and Al went to show him around the ranch while Thorn took care of business in his study. Sabina sneaked out the door and went around the back of the house into the woods, beyond the little gazebo that

so beautifully matched the house and faced the distant pastures. It was an unseasonably warm day. In her jeans with a green knit top, she looked younger than ever, with her long and soft hair blowing in the wind.

Her mind drifted as she watched a bird circle and soar toward the top of a huge live oak near the small stream. She wished it was warm enough to paddle in the creek.

"You look like a wood nymph."

She whirled to find Thorn standing behind her. He was clad in a white shirt and dark blue slacks with a suede blazer, all sleek muscle and dark tan. A feathering of crisp, curling black hair peeked out of his shirt. He was wearing his wide-brimmed creamy Stetson, and he looked suave and very Western.

"I'm just getting some air," she said defensively,

"Why aren't you with your intended?" he asked, leaning back against a tall oak, his boot propped behind him, his arms folded.

"Al was talking business; I didn't think I'd be welcome."

"Al doesn't know anything about the cattle business," he said. "He's buying time with Bellamy until I get there." He smiled faintly as he studied her. "The longer I take, the more Bellamy will worry. By the time I get there, he'll sell at my price. That's business, tulip."

"You said you'd tell me why you called me tulip," she reminded him. He was almost approachable today. She even smiled at him.

"There's a song about a yellow tulip and a big red rose," he murmured.

The song was one her mother used to sing, and she knew the words quite well. It was an old song-and one of the lines was something about it being heaven "when you caressed me" and "your lips were sweeter than julep...." She stared at him and went as red as the rose in the song.

"I see you know the song," he remarked, smiling insolently.

"I'm engaged to Al," she told him.

"Give him back the ring."

"I can't," she growled.

"That's the last chance you'll get from me," he said, his face grim. "You'd better take it, while you still can."

"Is that a threat?" she asked with a laugh.

"It's much more than a threat." He was looking at her as if he'd never seen her before, an odd expression in his blue eyes. "You're unique, Sabina," he said. "And if you hadn't proven to me already that you're just after Al's money, I might be tempted to forget everything else. But I can't stand by and let Al make this kind of mistake."

"Are you going to spend your life running interference for him?" she asked quietly, not making a challenge of it. "He's twenty-four. Eventually he'll have to stand on his own. And what if you aren't there to prop him up?"

"You're missing the point," he said flatly. Tugging a cigarette out of his pocket, he lit it, inhaling deeply. "I've spent the past ten years of my life building up the company. I've made sacrifices...." He took a draw from the cigarette and let the smoke out roughly. "I'm not going to let him throw away his inheritance. It was hard bought."

She looked at him openly, seeing the lines of age in his face, the wear and tear on him. "Al was fourteen when your father died," she recalled. "You had all the responsibility then, didn't you?"

For an instant he looked vulnerable. Then as if the shutters came down, his expression was masked. "I didn't break under it."

"I don't think you can be broken," she said, searching his eyes. "I even understand."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you do," he said, eyes narrowing as he held her gaze. "Your own life hasn't been easy street until now, has it?"

He couldn't know, she assured herself. She shrugged. "What do you mean, until now?"

"Designer jeans," he remarked. "Designer gowns. Expensive coats. You live well for a struggling singer."

If only he knew! She smiled inwardly. "I do okay," she said.

"How many boyfriends have you had in your young life?" he asked.

Her shoulders rose and fell. "None, really," she admitted, letting her eyes fall to his shiny boots, oblivious of the momentary softening in his face. "Guess I never had much time for all that. I've worked all my life."

His jaw clenched. "Yes. So have I."

"Not like I have, rich man." She laughed, throwing back her dark head. All her tiny triumphs glittered in her eyes. "I've waited tables and scrubbed floors. I've worked double shifts and fended off roaming hands and smiled over the nastiest kinds of propositions. I've worked in clubs so rough they had two bouncers. And I've done it without any help at all, from anybody!"

He didn't speak. His firm lips closed around the butt of the cigarette as he took another draw and then crushed it under his boot. "Did you get tired of the climb up? Is that why you've decided to marry Al when you're not in love with him?" he asked bluntly.

"Why do you say that?" she stammered.

"You never touch each other." He moved away from the tree and loomed over her, tall and threatening and unbearably masculine. "You smile at him, but not with love. You don't even kiss him."

She shifted backward restlessly, and he followed, too close. "I'm not demonstrative in public," she insisted.

"You're not demonstrative in private either, are you?" he demanded. His hands shot out and suddenly drew her close, so. that his breath was on her forehead and his body threatened' hers from head to toe. Her heart seemed to stop beating at the unexpected proximity. "You even freeze up with me, until I, start kissing you, tulip

"Thorn, don't," she whispered.

"I can't help myself," he said on a hard, contemptuous; laugh. "I can't stand within five feet of you without losing my head. Haven't you noticed? My God, I hate what you do to me! "

She looked up into his deepening blue eyes and shivered with apprehension. Could he sense the secret, dark pleasures that she felt from the tautening of his body against hers, from the crushing strength of the hands gripping her arms?

Around them came the sound of birds, and the faraway rippling of water in the creek. The wind was stirring the limbs of the trees, and leaves crunched underfoot as she shifted in his embrace. But she was more aware of her own heartbeat, of the fleeting nature of her time with him. Just a few more days...after that she'd never see him again, she knew it. Once Al was safely married, the oil baron would put her out of his mind. This, all of this, was just a means to an end, an attempt to make her break the engagement. But she was getting involved in ways she'd never meant to. She looked at him and loved him, bad temper, ruthlessness and all.

"It will all be over soon," she said softly.

"Sooner than you realize," he replied sharply. "Break off the engagement, while you can. Don't make me hurt you. I don't really have any taste for it now. But I have to protect Al."

Involuntarily, her fingers reached up, hesitated, and then touched his thick, dark eyebrows. Incredibly, his eyes closed, he stood very still, not moving at all. And that response made her bold. She traced all the hard lines of his bronzed face, learning its patrician contours, touching high cheekbones, his straight nose, his broad forehead, the indentations in his cheeks, the firm, warm line of his lips, his jutting, stubborn chin. His breath stirred as her fingers lingered beside his mouth.

She felt an answering hunger. Was it so much to ask, just one more kiss? One more passing of lips against hers? One kiss to remember, to live on? She rose on tiptoe, her hands behind his strong neck, and touched her mouth to his chin. It was as high as she could reach, but not nearly enough.

"Thorn," she breathed huskily. "Thorn, please..."

He was breathing as roughly as she was. "What do you want from me, Sabina?" he whispered back.