To Seduce a Rogue (14 page)

He did not speak for a time, just twisted his hands together, wishing he had never come to Edgemont, wishing she would leave him alone and let the grief consume him. His eyes began to burn, and he blinked. “Why, sometimes, why do you call me Chase?”

“I don’t know.” She wound a piece of cloth around her finger. “You just don’t seem like an Adam to me.”

His hand twisting stopped and he smiled. “My father liked the name Adam. It was his uncle’s name. Uncle Adam was a hard man, my mother always said; she detested him.” He laughed and flicked mud from his boot. “We spent summers at an ocean cottage when I was a boy. My father was too busy to come with us, but little did we know then how nice that made it. The first summer in my memory is of running down the dunes, sand sticking between my toes, the heat shoving me toward the water’s edge, my mother’s strong voice calling to me: Jared. Jared.”

“And your father?”

“When we returned home, he was furious. My brother, only six or seven at the time, had taken to calling me Jared, too. I had taken to the name myself. In fact, I pitched a fit when anyone called me Adam. My father included.”

He met her gaze as his smile disappeared. “My father never relented. He was the only person in my family to address me as Adam after that. That’s the reason for my byline. I started writing under my full name, but after my father’s first eruption, he asked that I change it to A. Jared Chase. Did not want to tarnish Uncle Adam’s name.” He dusted his hands on his thighs. “He seemed to have forgotten my uncle was a gambler who died a penniless drunk.”

“Why do you let people call you Adam then? I mean, if you don’t like it?”

He took no time to think about this at all. “Charlie, haven’t you noticed yet? I don’t care. What people call me or what they think. All I care about is my work.”

She capped the ointment and placed it in the tin box. “I’ll say it again: I don’t believe you. You’re a good person, better than you think.”

“You only think you see it.” He handed her a strip of cloth that had fallen to the ground. “You’re the misunderstood one. This town has a goddamn angel under their noses, and they don’t even know it.”

She shifted her attention to packing the medical kit.

“Who’s running now, Charlie?”

She snapped the kit shut as if he had never spoken. “I’d leave Taber here for the next day or two. I’ll check on him before you move him and periodically until the wound heals. Put this ointment on morning and night. And keep the stitches covered. The swelling should go down in a day or two.”

He moved in, crowding her. His thigh brushed hers as he captured her chin, tilting her face high. “Are you running?” A smile spread across his face.

“I’m not running,” she whispered.

“I didn’t hear you.”

She licked her lips. “I’m not running.”

“Yes. You are.”

“No. I’m. Not.”

“Temper. Temper.” He was baiting her. He knew it. Anger would trot her sweet, swinging bottom right out of the barn. And some depraved part of him wanted to punish her for knowing him so well. “You don’t want to be called a hypocrite, now do you?”

She shoved him back and leaped to her feet so quickly he was left holding air. The barn door slammed behind her. 

Adam brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed until colors collided behind his lids. He opened his saddlebag, grabbed the flask tucked in the side pocket and took a long gulp. The liquor did little to assuage the hollow feeling in his stomach. When he remembered Charlie’s expression as she said he did not look like an Adam.

His mother had always said the same thing.

With a curse, he hurled the flask against the wall. His gaze fell to the row of stitches on Taber’s flank.

He had hurt her.

When she had done nothing more than
help
him.

Aspiration

Strong longing, desire or aim.

The night was a typical summer night. The heat you’d paid for so dearly had not disappeared, yet it had mellowed. It was leaner. The breeze now had more room to move.

Charlie guessed this was why she loved winter so much. It was often a pale and brittle time, but a time of open spaces and the crisp sting of life.

How many months before winter and the end of this night?

She sighed and glanced at her soiled dress. She would have smiled if it were funny. She was ten years old again.

Another summer dance, and she was the dirtiest child there.

She would be the first to admit that she wore conventional behavior like a dress two sizes two small. It fit improperly and was uncomfortable to boot.

She stepped back as Myra Hawkins danced by in Chester Dole’s awkward embrace. Charlie hid a smile as Myra glared at her mother. Chloris Hawkins sent Myra a tacit reply only a mother could give. The Hawkins were slipping in the proverbial hook.

Charlie waved as Kath and Miles sailed by. Kath’s full, mint-green skirt billowed about her. Spotless. Charlie shook her head in bewildered awe.

Jake Marston slammed his foot to the ground as a high note crept through the crowd, signaling the end of the spirited folk song. Breathless couples stopped in place and broke into raucous approval. Charlie joined them.

Charlie’s father had delighted in dancing with her to Jake’s music. There was some indefinable, rock-solid...security in dancing in your father’s arms.

Unconditional love and acceptance.

Was that what Chase had hungered for as child?

She stole a quick glance at him. He stood across the way, leaning with casual grace against a tree, his feet crossed at the ankle, his arms folded over his chest. She knew him well enough to recognize boredom with the conversation going on around him. Her Uncle Hubert, dressed and stuffed like a Sunday turkey, raised a hand as he explained something repulsive like the latest banking resolution.

The
Charleston Mercury
had reported the issue, and Chase wanted to be right behind them. Would the old
Sentinel
—a newspaper not controlled by political associations—have pursued the story so aggressively? She wondered if Chase’s delegation of the story to her was a lesson in the making.

She watched as he expelled a breath and rolled his eyes at her uncle. He tightened his arms around his middle but said nothing. She wanted to laugh at his predicament.

Or punch him.

He was infuriating and his conduct bordered on boorish.

But she understood he was trying to push her away. Even if the way he was trying to do it angered her, the decision was surely for the best.

In the clandestine darkness, she could study him. And admit her attraction. The moonlight complimented his skin and the hint of auburn on the tips of his hair. She almost laughed with him as he smiled with a flash of white teeth, at last showing interest in the conversation.

Chase was avoiding her.

What did she expect after she ran from the barn? He’d bullied her into leaving before something dreadful happened. Only, she should have handled the situation better.

She should have called his bluff.

“Mind if I interrupt?”

Charlie released an appreciative breath. “Are you joking, Kath? Pull up a chair.”

Kath dropped to the chair, nearly upending it.

Charlie glanced at the glass in her friend’s hand. “Kath, how much have you had to drink?”

A loud hiccup. “Oh, dear me.” Kath giggled and patted her lips. “I saw you sitting here all...by...yourself. Miles went to rescue Adam from the bank vultures. I think I saw Tom there, too. How
boring
.”

Charlie patted Kath’s hand. “Yes. He can be.”

“Has Tom been a pleasant escort?”

“Charming as always.”

She leaned her head on the chair and laughed. “Where, by the way, is my drink?”

“I spilled it. So sorry.”

“Should I get another?”

Ignoring the question, Charlie took a covert sip of the “spilled” drink. She watched Chase laugh at something Miles said. True to his word, Miles had rescued him.

Spoiling it all, a cloud of pink was descending upon the men. When Lila reached them, she slipped her arm through Chase’s. Adam looked down, but Charlie could not see his face.

“She’s a viper, isn’t she?”

Charlie snapped her head around. “
Katherine Lambert
.”

“Oh, she is. I know Miles sparked her a bit. And now she has her claws sunk deep as dirt in Adam. Poor fella.”

Charlie looked back to the three people glittering in the lamplight. “Yes, poor fella,” she whispered into the night.

* * *

Adam took two steps from the keg and halted. Charlie was standing by Miles, her arm outstretched. Adam followed the direction and felt the pull of a smile. Kath was sound asleep in one of the chair circling the dance floor. His gaze traveled back. Miles was bowed with laughter, and Charlie wiped her eyes as she tried to control her amusement.

Lila stood, stone-faced, like a queen viewing her court.

Against his will, Adam observed the women, looking for a family resemblance, a shared trait, some commonality.

Charlie’s eyes were full of emotion where Lila’s were taciturn. He would have thought he’d prefer Lila’s generous curves, the sensuality simmering beneath her skin, but Charlie’s intellect had caught him and was holding tight.

But none of this mattered. He and Lila were the same: self-seeking, superficial, callous. They could toy with each other and survive. Survive like he and Marilyn had, like he had survived with all the others. Charlie?

Toying with her would be a mistake. A mistake that would leave them
both
confused.

He brought the glass to his lips and drained half of it in one swallow. The glow from the lanterns swirled around him as he resumed his step.

He handed a glass to Miles. “Watch out, Toby poured a good one.”

“And, you’ve finished half of yours already?” Miles’ gaze pegged Adam.

“Just thirsty, old man.”

“Uh-huh.”

Powerless to stop himself, Adam’s regard crept Charlie’s way. She was watching couples whirl about the earthen dance floor. He did not miss the agitated tap of her foot. What could he say to amend his earlier callousness?

Unfortunately, Lila solved the problem in her own tactless way. “Are you having a good time, Charlotte?”

Charlie’s back tensed as she circled to face them. Her expression looked as if she were preparing for a liberal dose of castor oil. “Of course. A wonderful time, Lila.”

Lila sniffed into her glove. “Oh, well, I mean you haven’t danced much, and that makes the party.”

“Yes, I suppose it—”

“She keeps turning me down, so I guess Tom is the only lucky fellow tonight,” Adam said, not realizing the words were escaping until they did.

Lila’s predatory observation bounced between the two of them. Miles’ sharp gaze did not miss much, either. A speak-first-think-later expression leaped into his eyes. Adam knew a comment was forthcoming unless he did something.