Temptation (10 page)

Eden closed the book with a snap. Humiliation was a bitter taste at the back of her throat. At least it dried the last of her tears. “We're fine,” she told him in a voice that was even and cool. “If you'd excuse me, I still have some work to do.”

Rejection was something Chase had never fully understood until he'd met her. He didn't care for it. Nodding slowly, he searched for patience. “It was meant as an offer, not an insult.” He would have turned and left her then, but the marks of weeping and sleeplessness gave her a pale, wounded look. “I'm sorry about the trouble you've been having the past year, Eden. I knew you'd lost your father, but I didn't know about the estate.”

She wanted, oh so badly, to reach out, to let him gather her close and give her all the comfort she needed. She wanted to ask him what she should do, and have him give her the answers. But wouldn't that mean that all the months of struggling for self-sufficiency had been for nothing? She straightened her shoulders. “It isn't necessary to be sorry.”

“If you had told me yourself, it would have been simpler.”

“It didn't concern you.”

He didn't so much ignore the stab of hurt as turn it into annoyance. “Didn't it? I felt differently—feel differently. Are you going to stand there and tell me there's nothing between us, Eden?”

She couldn't deny it, but she was far too confused, far too afraid, to try to define the truth. “I don't know how I feel about you, except that I don't want to feel anything. Most of all, I don't want your pity.”

The hands in his pockets curled into fists. He didn't know how to handle his own feelings, his own needs. Now she was treating them as though they didn't matter. He could leave, or he could beg. At the moment, Chase saw no choice between the two. “Understanding and pity are different things, Eden. If you don't know that, there's nothing else to say.”

Turning, he left her. The screen door swished quietly behind him.

***

For the next two days, Eden functioned. She gave riding instructions, supervised meals and hiked the hills with groups of girls. She talked and laughed and listened, but the hollowness that had spread inside her when the door had closed at Chase's back remained.

Guilt and regret. Those were the feelings she couldn't shake, no matter how enthusiastically she threw herself into her routine. She'd been wrong. She'd known it even as it was happening, but pride had boxed her in. He had offered to help. He had offered to care, and she'd refused him. If there was a worse kind of selfishness, she couldn't name it.

She'd started to phone him, but hadn't been able to dial the number. It hadn't been pride that had held her back this time. Every apology that formed in her mind was neat and tidy and meaningless. She couldn't bear to give him a stilted apology, nor could she bear the possibility that he wouldn't care.

Whatever had started to grow between them, she had squashed. Whatever might have been, she had cut off before it had begun to flower. How could she explain to Chase that she'd been afraid of being hurt again? How could she tell him that when he'd offered help and understanding she'd been afraid to accept it because it was so easy to be dependent?

She began to ride out alone at night again. Solitude didn't soothe her as it once had; it only reminded her that she had taken steps to ensure that she would remain alone. The nights were warm, with the lingering scent of honeysuckle bringing back memories of a night where there had been pictures in the sky. She couldn't look at the stars without thinking of him.

Perhaps that was why she rode to the lake, where the grass was soft and thick. Here she could smell the water and wild blossoms. The horse's hooves were muffled, and she could just hear the rustle of wings in flight—some unseen bird in search of prey or a mate.

Then she saw him.

The moon was on the wane, so he was only a shadow, but she knew he was watching her. Just as she had known, somehow, that she would find him there tonight. Reining in, she let the magic take her. For the moment, even if it were only a moment, she would forget everything but that she loved him. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

She slid from the horse and went to him.

He said nothing. Until she touched him, he wasn't sure she wasn't a dream. In silence, she framed his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. No dream had ever tasted so warm. No illusion had ever felt so soft.

“Eden—”

With a shake of her head, she cut off his words. There were weeks of emptiness to fill, and no questions that needed answering. Rising on her toes, she kissed him again. The only sound was her sigh as his arms finally came around her. She discovered a bottomless well of giving inside her. Something beyond passion, something beyond desire. Here was comfort, strength and the understanding she had been afraid to accept.

His fingers trailed up to her hair, as if each touch reassured him she was indeed real. When he opened his eyes again, his arms wouldn't be empty, but filled with her. Her cheek rubbed his, smooth skin against a day's growth of beard. With her head nestled in a curve of his shoulder, she watched the wink and blink of fireflies and thought of stars.

They stood in silence while an owl hooted and the horse whinnied in response.

“Why did you come?” He needed an answer, one he could take back with him when she had left him again.

“To see you.” She drew away, wanting to see his face. “To be with you.”

“Why?”

The magic shimmered and began to dim. With a sigh, she drew back. Dreams were for sleeping, Eden reminded herself. And questions had to be answered. “I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved before. You were being kind.” Searching for words, she turned to pluck a leaf from the tree that shadowed them. “I know how I must have seemed, how I sounded, and I am sorry. It's difficult, still difficult for me to . . .” Restless, she moved her shoulders. “We were able to muffle most of the publicity after my father died, but there was a great deal of gossip, of speculation and not-so-quiet murmurs.”

When he said nothing, she shifted again, uncomfortable. “I suppose I resented all of that more than anything else. It became very important to me to prove myself, that I could manage, even succeed. I realize that I've become sensitive about handling things myself and that when you offered to help, I reacted badly. I apologize for that.”

Silence hung another moment before he took a step toward her. Eden thought he moved the way the shadows did. Silently. “That's a nice apology, Eden. Before I accept it, I'd like to ask if the kiss was part of it.”

So he wasn't going to make it easy for her. Her chin lifted. She didn't need an easy road any longer. “No.”

Then he smiled and circled her throat with his hand. “What was it for then?”

The smile disturbed her more than the touch, though it was the touch she backed away from. Strange how you could take one step and find yourself sunk to the hips. “Does there have to be a reason?” When she walked toward the edge of the lake, she saw an owl swoop low over the water. That was the way she felt, she realized. As if she were skimming along the surface of something that could take her in over her head. “I wanted to kiss you, so I did.”

The tension he'd lived with for weeks had vanished, leaving him almost light-headed. He had to resist the urge to scoop her up and carry her home, where he'd begun to understand she belonged. “Do you always do what you want?”

She turned back with a toss of her head. She'd apologized, but the pride remained. “Always.”

He grinned, nudging a smile from her. “So do I.”

“Then we should understand each other.”

He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Remember that.”

“I will.” Steady again, she moved past him to the gelding. “We're having a dance a week from Saturday. Would you like to come?”

His hand closed over hers on the reins. “Are you asking me for a date?”

Amused, she swung her hair back before settling a foot in the stirrup. “Certainly not. We're short of chaperons.”

She bent her leg to give herself a boost into the saddle, but found herself caught at the waist. She dangled in midair for a moment before Chase set her on the ground again, turning her to face him. “Will you dance with me?”

She remembered the last time they had danced and saw from the look in his eyes that he did as well. Her heart fluttered in the back of her dry throat, but she lifted a brow and smiled. “Maybe.”

His lips curved, then descended slowly to brush against hers. She felt the world tilt, then steady at an angle only lovers understand. “A week from Saturday,” he murmured, then lifted her easily into the saddle. His hand remained over hers another moment. “Miss me.”

He stayed by the water until she was gone and the night was silent again.

Chapter 7

The last weeks of summer were hot and long. At night, there was invariably heat lightning and rumbling thunder, but little rain. Eden pushed herself through the days, blocking out the uncertainty of life after September.

She wasn't escaping, she told herself. She was coping with one day at a time. If she had learned one important lesson over the summer, it was that she could indeed make changes, in herself and in her life.

The frightened and defeated woman who had come to Camp Liberty almost as if it were a sanctuary would leave a confident, successful woman who could face the world on her own terms.

Standing in the center of the compound, she ran her hands down her narrow hips before dipping them into the pockets of her shorts. Next summer would be even better, now that they'd faced the pitfalls and learned how to maneuver around them. She knew she was skipping over months of her life, but found she didn't want to dwell on the winter. She didn't want to think of Philadelphia and snowy sidewalks, but of the mountains and what she had made of her life there.

If it had been possible, she would have found a way to stay behind during the off-season. Eden had begun to understand that only necessity and the need for employment were taking her back east. It wasn't her home any longer.

With a shake of her head, Eden pushed away thoughts of December. The sun was hot and bright. She could watch it shimmer on the surface of Chase's lake and think of him.

She wondered what would have happened if she had met him two years earlier when her life had been so ordered and set and mapped-out. Would she have fallen in love with him then? Perhaps it was all a matter of timing; perhaps she would have given him a polite how-do-you-do and forgotten him.

No. Closing her eyes, she could recall vividly every sensation, every emotion he'd brought into her life. Timing had nothing to do with something so overwhelming. No matter when, no matter where, she would have fallen in love with him. Hadn't she fought it all along, only to find her feelings deepening?

But she'd thought herself in love with Eric, too.

She shivered in the bright sun and watched a jay race overhead. Was she so shallow, so cold, that her feelings could shift and change in the blink of an eye? That was what held her back and warned her to be cautious. If Eric hadn't turned his back on her, she would have married him. His ring would be on her finger even now. Eden glanced down at her bare left hand.

But that hadn't been love, she reassured herself. Now she knew what love felt like, what it did to heart and mind and body. And yet . . . How did he feel? He cared, and he wanted, but she knew enough of love now to understand that wasn't enough. She, too, had once cared and wanted. If Chase was in love with her, there wouldn't be any
before
. Time would begin now.

Don't be a fool, she told herself with a flash of annoyance. That kind of thinking would only make her drift back to dependence. There was a before for both of them, and a future. There was no way of being sure that the future would merge with what she felt today.

But she wanted to be a fool, she realized with a quick, delicious shudder. Even if only for a few weeks, she wanted to absorb and concentrate all those mad feelings. She'd be sensible again. Sensible was for January, when the wind was sharp and the rent had to be paid. In a few days she would dance with him, smile up at him. She would have that one night of the summer to be a fool.

Kicking off her shoes, Eden plucked them up in one hand and ran the rest of the way to the dock. Girls, already separated into groups, were waiting for the signal to row out into the lake.

“Miss Carlbough!” In her camp uniform and her familiar cap, Roberta hopped up and down on the grass near the rowboats. “Watch this.” With a quick flurry of motion, she bent over, kicked up her feet and stood on her head. “What do you think?” she demanded through teeth clenched with effort. Her triangular face reddened.

“Incredible.”

“I've been practicing.” With a grunt, Roberta tumbled onto the grass. “Now, when my mom asks what I did at camp, I can stand on my head and show her.”

Eden lifted a brow, hoping Mrs. Snow got a few more details. “I'm sure she'll be impressed.”

Still sprawled on the grass, arms splayed out to the sides, Roberta stared up at Eden. She was just old enough to wish that her hair was blond and wavy. “You look real pretty today, Miss Carlbough.”

Touched, and more than a little surprised, Eden held out a hand to help Roberta up. “Why, thank you, Roberta. So do you.”

“Oh, I'm not pretty, but I'm going to be once I can wear makeup and cover my freckles.”

Eden rubbed a thumb over Roberta's cheek. “Lots of boys fall for freckles.”

“Maybe.” Roberta tucked that away to consider later. “I guess you're soft on Mr. Elliot.”

Eden dropped her hand back in her pocket. “Soft on?”

“You know.” To demonstrate, Roberta sighed and fluttered her eyes. Eden wasn't sure whether to laugh or give the little monster a shove into the lake.

“That's ridiculous.”

“Are you getting married?”

“I haven't the vaguest idea where you come up with such nonsense. Now into the boat. Everyone's ready to go.”

“My mom told me people sometimes get married when they're soft on each other.”

“I'm sure your mother's quite right.” Hoping to close the subject, Eden helped Roberta into their assigned rowboat, where Marcie and Linda were already waiting. “However, in this case, Mr. Elliot and I barely know each other. Everyone hook their life jackets, please.”

“Mom said she and Daddy fell in love at first sight.” Roberta hooked on the preserver, though she thought it was a pain when she swam so well. “They kiss all the time.”

“I'm sure that's nice. Now—”

“I used to think it was kind of gross, but I guess it's okay.” Roberta settled into her seat and smiled. “Well, if you decide not to marry Mr. Elliot, maybe I will.”

Eden was busy locking in the oars, but she glanced up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He's got a neat dog and all those apple trees.” Roberta adjusted the brim of her cap over her eyes. “And he's kind of pretty.” The two girls beside her giggled in agreement.

“That's certainly something to think about.” Eden began to row. “Maybe you can discuss the idea with your mother when you get home.”

“'Kay. Can I row first?”

Eden could only be grateful that the girl's interest span was as fast-moving as the rest of her. “Fine. You and I will row out. Marcie and Linda can row back.”

After a bit of drag and a few grunts, Roberta matched her rhythm to Eden's. As the boat began to glide, it occurred to Eden that she was rowing with the same three girls who had started the adventure in the apple orchard. With a silent chuckle, she settled into sync with Roberta and let her mind drift.

What if she had never gone up in that tree? Absently, she touched her lower lip with her tongue, recalling the taste and feel of Chase. If she had it to do over, would she run in the opposite direction?

Smiling, Eden closed her eyes a moment, so that the sun glowed red under her lids. No, she wouldn't run. Being able to admit it, being able to be sure of it, strengthened her confidence. She wouldn't run from Chase, or from anything else in life.

Perhaps she was soft on him, as Roberta had termed it. Perhaps she could hug that secret to herself for a little while. It would be wonderful if things could be as simple and uncomplicated as Roberta made them. Love equaled marriage, marriage equaled happiness. Sighing, Eden opened her eyes and watched the surface of the lake. For a little while she could believe in poetry and dreams.

Daydreams . . . They were softer and even more mystical than dreams by night. It had been a long time since Eden had indulged in them. Now the girls were chattering and calling to their friends in the other boats. Someone was singing, deliberately off-key. Eden's arms moved in a steady rhythm as the oars cut smoothly into the water and up into the air again.

So she was floating . . . dreaming with her eyes open . . . silk and ivory and lace. The glitter of the sun on water was like candlelight. The call of crows was music to dance by.

She was riding on Pegasus. High in a night sky, his white wings effortlessly cut through the air. She could taste the cool, thin wind that took them through clouds. Her hair was free, flying behind her, twined with flowers. More clouds, castlelike, rose up in the distance, filmy and gray and secret. Their secrets were nothing to her. She had freedom for the first time; full, unlimited freedom.

And he was with her, riding the sky through snatches of light and dark. Higher, still higher they rose, until the earth was only mist beneath them. And the stars were flowers, the white petals of anemones that she could reach out and pick as the whim struck her.

When she turned in his arms, she was his without boundaries. All restrictions, all doubts, had been left behind in the climb.

“Hey, look. It's Squat!”

Eden blinked. The daydream disintegrated. She was in a rowboat, with muscles that were just beginning to ache from exertion. There were no flowers, no stars, only water and sky.

They'd rowed nearly the width of the lake. A portion of Chase's orchard spread back from the shore, and visible was one of the greenhouses he had taken the camp through on the day of the tour. Delighted with the company, Squat dashed back and forth in the shallow water near the lake's edge. His massive paws scattered a flurry of water that coated him until he was a sopping, shaggy mess.

Smiling as the girls called out greetings to the dog, Eden wondered if Chase was home. What did he do with his Sundays? she thought. Did he laze around the house with the paper and cups of coffee? Did he switch on the ball game, or go out for long, solitary drives? Just then, as if to answer her questions, he and Delaney joined the dog on the shore. Across the water, Eden felt the jolt as their eyes met.

Would it always be like that? Always stunning, always fresh? Always immediate? Inhaling slowly, she coaxed her pulse back to a normal rate.

“Hey, Mr. Elliot!” Without a thought for the consequences, Roberta dropped her oar and jumped up. Excitement had her bouncing up and down as the boat teetered.

“Roberta.” Acting by instinct, Eden locked her oars. “Sit down, you'll turn us over.” Eden started to grab for her hand as the other girls took Roberta's lead and jumped to their feet.

“Hi, Mr. Elliot!”

The greeting rang out in unison, just before the boat tipped over.

Eden hit the water headfirst. After the heat of the sun it seemed shockingly cold, and she surfaced sputtering with fury. With one hand, she dragged the hair out of her eyes and focused on the three bobbing heads. The girls, buoyed by their life jackets, waved unrepentantly at the trio on shore.

Eden grabbed the edge of the upended boat. “Roberta!”

“Look, Miss Carlbough.” Apparently the tone, said through gritted teeth, passed over the girl's head. “Squat's coming out.”

“Terrific.” Treading water, Eden plucked Roberta by the arm and tried to drag her back to the capsized boat. “Remember the rules of boating safety. Stay here.” Eden went for the next girl, but twisted her head to see the dog paddling toward them. Uneasy with his progress, she looked back toward shore.

Her request that Chase call back his dog caught in her throat as she spotted his grin. Though she couldn't hear the words, she saw Delaney turn to him with some remark. It was enough to see Chase throw back his head and laugh. That sound carried.

“Want some help?” he called out.

Eden pulled at the next giggling girl. “Don't put yourself out,” she began, then shrieked when Squat laid a wet, friendly nose on her shoulder. Her reaction seemed to amuse everyone, dog included. Squat began to bark enthusiastically in her ear.

Fresh pandemonium broke out as the girls began to splash water at each other and the dog. Eden found herself caught in the crossfire. In the other boats, campers and counselors looked on, grinning or calling out encouraging words. Squat paddled circles around her as she struggled to restore some kind of order.

“All right, ladies. Enough.” That earned her a mouthful of lake. “It's time to right the boat.”

“Can Squat take a ride with us?” Roberta giggled as he licked water from her face.

“No.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

Eden nearly submerged before Chase gripped her arm. She'd been too busy trying to restore order and her own dignity to notice that he'd swum the few yards from shore. “He came out to help.”

His hair was barely damp, while hers was plastered to her head. Chase hooked an arm around her waist to ease her effort to tread water.

“You'd better right the boat,” he said to the girls, who immediately fell to doing so with a vengeance. “Apparently you do better with horses.” His voice was soft and amused in Eden's ear.

She started to draw away, but her legs tangled with his. “If you and that monster hadn't been on shore—”

“Delaney?”

“No, not Delaney.” Frustrated, Eden pushed at her hair.

“You're beautiful when you're wet. Makes me wonder why I haven't thought of swimming with you before.”

“We're not supposed to be swimming, we're supposed to be boating.”

“Either way, you're beautiful.”

She wouldn't be moved. Even though the girls had already righted the boat, Eden knew she was in over her head. “It's that dog,” she began. Even as she said it, the girls were climbing back into the boat and urging Squat to join them.

“Roberta, I said—” Chase gently dunked her. Surfacing, she heard him striking the bargain.

“We'll swim back. You bring Squat. He likes boats.”

“I said—” Again, she found herself under water. This time when she came up for air, she gave Chase her full attention. The swing she took at him was slow and sluggish because of the need to tread water.