Caprice (21 page)

'Nice party,' said Caprice falsely, and her mother murmured a too

bright reply, party smile fastened firmly in place. Caprice looked past

the mask and saw the faint glitter in Irene's eyes. 'Mom,' she said

then, laying her hand gently on the older woman's sleeve. 'I'm sorry.'

'Why, for heaven's sake?' said Irene, with an odd little laugh that

wasn't a laugh at all. 'For being right?'

'No,' she said very quietly, feeling something like grief well up inside

her for the other, foolish woman's pain. 'For telling you like I did. I

was cruel, I hurt you, and I'm sorry.'

Beyond both women's sight, Richard slowed and stopped, waiting for

the two to finish in some semblance of privacy while he held two

drinks. After a. moment, Irene met her daughter's remorseful gaze

with a real smile. 'I still think Pierce is a fine man,' she said simply.

Caprice laughed. 'So do I, Mom. So do I.' She bent forward, pressed a

quick kiss to her mother's cheek, and then whisked away again, in

search of different, amusing company.

She didn't know what she thought. She supposed, later, that she knew

it couldn't last for too long, that she was silently goading Pierce, that

she was being rude. She did know that, as the evening progressed,

she felt worse. She did know that every time she saw Pierce

appearing to be interested in any woman of decent figure and age,

she felt something dart like needles into her. But she couldn't think

why it hurt, or why she was acting the way she was, or why he put up

with it. It was as unfathomable as a murky lake at full night, nothing

to be seen or understood past the shallow ripples.

There came a time when, as she was chattering away with a

presentable young man who showed unmistakable signs of

infatuation, Pierce strolled up to stand beside her. 'Excuse me,' he

said, without interest, to the young man. Without even waiting for the

other to question him or withdraw politely, he turned to her and said,

'I've had enough. I'm leaving now. If you would like to come with

me, you may, and if not, then I'm sure your parents will be more than

happy to see you home.'

She was unprepared for the ultimatum, or the cavalier manner in

which he presented it. That she might have deserved it didn't come

into the matter; she felt a sudden wave of rage wash over her, and

with her eyes sparkling like hard stones, she said between her teeth,

'Don't you dare issue orders to me, do you hear?'

Pierce turned to the presentable young man and said pleasantly,

'Now, did you hear me issuing any orders? I thought not.' He turned

back to her. 'I merely informed you of your choices.'

The presentable young man looked extremely uncomfortable,

gabbled something which was supposed to be polite or witty, and

backed quickly away. Neither noticed.

Caprice had never been treated that way in her entire life. Men

always came and went at her bidding, not the other way around. She

couldn't believe her ears. 'Do you mean, you would actually walk out

on someone you escorted to a party?'

Incredibly, he smiled. 'Yes,' he said. 'So, which is it to be? Either you

come with me now and we have that talk I've been waiting for all

evening, or I walk out of here, and that's it. I won't be commuting any

more to Virginia. It's quite a clear-cut choice, I should think.'

Shock hit her anew. Somehow, she hadn't been expecting it to be this

way. Somehow she'd been expecting to be the one to call things off,

whenever it suited her. Her huge, violet eyes quickly searched his,

and she found nothing in them but a smiling steeliness. 'You're just

angry,' she said, attempting to shrug it off. But her voice sounded

uncertain.

He raised his brows. 'Wherever did you get that idea?' he asked,

sounding genuinely surprised. 'Perhaps you think I have cause to be?'

That sent colour to her cheeks. 'But no, I'm not. I think I'm beginning

to understand you a little better—not a whole lot, God knows! Your

mind works in truly tortuous ways. But I certainly don't feel angry

with you tonight, merely a bit bored. I can watch you talk with

someone else for only so long, I'm afraid. Now, for the final time,

which is it to be? I've had your wrap brought down.'

He didn't even sound concerned, and that hurt and angered her the

most. Without thinking, she spat out, 'I'm not ready to leave, yet!'

Something in his pleasant, blank face flickered then. 'I see. Good

night, then, sweetheart.' He pressed a quick, light kiss to her cheek

and turned to walk away.

She watched him leave, feeling cold and stiff. Something began a

hard pounding in her heart. He went into the hall and was out of

sight. She looked around, at the people packed in the room, milling

about, talking to one another about things that were certainly

interesting, but by no means crucial to her happiness. She was left

with nothing crucial to her happiness, just a lot of pleasantries which

meant nothing at all to her.

She was racing for the door in the next instant, bumping through

people, whisking around the woman who held her wrap and yanking

it out of her hands without bothering to excuse herself or to even say

thank you. Then she was at the front door, wondering if she was too

late, throwing it open wide.

'WAIT!' she cried, straining her eyes to peer through the darkness. She

hurried down the front steps towards the driveway. A patch of

shadow that was Pierce's black suit stopped suddenly still, and

whirled round. She had reached the driveway by then, and her steps

faltered to a stop as her eyes adjusted to the night and she took in his

rigid stance. He wasn't as indifferent as he come,' she said, voice

sounding thin in the open air. 'But I don't make any promises.'

Despite her words, she hovered uncertainly, unsure if his offer was

still open.

She hadn't realised how much it meant to her, until she saw his hand

come up wordlessly, palm outstretched in invitation. She sighed

harshly in sagging reaction, her wrap crushed against her chest in her

arms. The knowledge bolted through her, then, that if he would but

call her name, she would follow him anywhere he asked. Her shaking

legs found the impetus to carry her forward to him, to take his hand,

but instead of closing his fingers around hers, he drew her evening

wrap out of her arms, draped it carefully about her slight figure, and

then put his arm around her shoulders. In that way they walked to the

car.

Caprice's mind and heart were reeling. She didn't know how, or

when, but she had managed to fall deeply in love with him. Her lips

shook. Such a fine, cool-headed determination she'd had, and, despite

all her efforts, she would be the one to get hurt.

She should have known from the beginning. She should have seen.

She knew that he was different from the very start; she knew that

what she'd felt for him had been different. But she'd never fallen in

love before, and didn't know how to recognise the signs of it in

herself. She turned her head as he courteously gave a hand to help her

into the Jaguar, averting her face. How could anyone not love him?

His gentleness, his quiet poise, his understanding. It all made him

endearing to her. But what shook her to the core was something in

him, barely glimpsed or understood, that lay beneath his other

qualities like a brooding, slumbering beast. It was a wealth of passion

and compassion, a stronghold of deep, overpowering feeling, and it

frightened her even as it drew her close to its warmth.

He got into the car silently, started the engine, and pulled on to the

street. She was off-balance and shaking. He was frowning and

withdrawn, his jawline hard as though he worked hard to contain

something.

When he missed the turn that took them to her house, she blinked a

few times, and flicked a wary, sidelong glance to him. He seemed

like a stranger. 'Where are we going?' she asked cautiously. 'Why

aren't you taking me home?'

'I know from experience that Jeffrey and my parents will be gone till

quite late,' he said then, almost absently. 'And the servants have the

evening off. I want you in privacy, so that I know we won't be

disturbed, and that you can't run away, as seems to be your habit

whenever I try to have a heart to heart talk with you.'

She put a hand to her forehead, letting her hair fall forward to hide

her face. She wasn't in control. Everything about her was stupidly

shaking. The slightest pressure from him, and she would crack up.

'Thanks for asking,' she said, bitterly.

'You made your choice.'

She'd never been to the Langston home. It seemed huge, easily twice

the size of her own home, the yellow security lights illuminating

great pools of deep red brick and creeping, mature ivy. Pierce parked

the car, and turned in his seat to stare at her thoughtfully. She kept

her eyes steadfastly trained on the dashboard ahead of her, expression

tight. He lifted his hand and touched at her hair with the backs of his

fingers. Then he climbed out of the car and, as there was nothing else

for her to do, she followed.

Inside, he led her to a rather larger version of their den and, as she

walked jerkily around the room, he mixed them drinks. She took her

wrap and threw it carelessly to a chair, letting it slide between her

fingers. The deep, brilliant blue of her dress and her silver blonde

hair made her stand out from the muted browns in the background

like a slim, cool flame. When he handed her a gin and tonic, she took

the round, cold glass, carefully avoiding his fingers, and a wry twist

of his well-shaped lips told her he knew it.

The silence stretched tight, magnified by the hulking weight of huge

emptiness that expanded around them. The house was probably from

the 1700s, she guessed by the architecture, and no doubt it creaked at

night. She turned away from Pierce's tall figure and ran her eyes up

to the ceiling. It was a lovely home.

'I love you,' he said quietly, and she spilled her drink.

'Oh God, I'm sorry,' she exclaimed breathlessly, her heart knocking

ninety miles an hour in her chest. She set down her half-full glass

with a sharp chink, and hurried to the bar in search of towels. It

incidentally took her well away from Pierce, for which she was

grateful.

'Leave it,' he said sharply, making an impatient gesture. 'The carpet

doesn't matter.'

She found a towel, and turned to stare at the floor at his feet. 'But it

should be cleaned before it soaks in too much -

'I said leave it!' His voice rose harshly, and she dropped the towel in

immediate reaction. 'Damn it, woman, I just said I love you! Does

that do anything at all to you?'

Her hands flew to her face as she was stung into crying, 'What do you

want me to say? That I love you, too, and let's go live happily ever

after?'

He made a sharp, ungraceful movement towards her that she felt

through her entire body, making her jump where she stood. 'Would

that be so bad?' he replied, sounding ragged, quite unlike himself.

'What do you feel for me, Caprice? You act so differently from one

moment to the next, I can't tell!'

She pulled her hands from her face to stare at them, the slender

fingers, the oval palms. 'I— want to go home now,' she whispered,

her eyes filling.

'What will it take to break through to you?' he shouted, and she

visibly cringed. 'You're always running away, putting on an act,

doing anything you possibly can to avoid something like this

between us! Why? If you don't love me, for God's sake, just say so

and it's the end of the discussion!'

'Don't,' she choked out. 'Oh, don't.'

He made a strange sort of sound that was more wrenched out of him

than anything else, and he strode over to take her into his arms. With

one hand, he cradled her bright head to his chest. 'And why do you

tear me apart inside?' he whispered into her hair. 'All this week I

thought of you. I tried to put you out of my mind so that I could get

through work, but you were there when I least expected it. I heard

your laugh, saw your smile, and all I wanted was to hold you.'