The Widow and the Wastrel (10 page)

"He certainly isn't what I expected," Allan commented quietly as he watched Jed being slowly led through the crowd by Barbara.

"Oh? Why not?" Elizabeth asked. Her attempt at vague interest came out frosty and defensive.

Allan glanced at her sharply, taking his time in wording his answer. "From the rumors I've heard since his return, I suppose I expected someone more belligerent and arrogant. His self-assurance and easy charm caught me by surprise, I guess."

"I suppose it would." Elizabeth didn't want to discuss Jed, averting her gaze from his hypnotic form still discernible on the far side of the room.

"Was your husband like him?"

"They were very nearly total opposites," she answered curtly. Then with an abrupt change of subject, she inserted, "I want to apologize for the mixup this evening. I hope you didn't arrive too early thinking to find me here."

"No, I didn't." Allan followed her lead.

But it was impossible to completely avoid the topic of Jed. Nearly everyone she and Allan talked to had some comment or question about him. And her sensitive radar never lost track of where he was located in the room. No matter how casually she glanced around the room, her gaze invariably homed in on Jed. She couldn't avoid noticing that he had that ability to hold himself apart from others, while appearing to join in with their laughter and conversation.

At the long dinner table, Elizabeth and Allan were seated on the opposite side of the table from Jed and ever-constant Barbara. Fortunately they were several chairs down the table. Yet Elizabeth couldn't avoid seeing him whenever she glanced in that direction.

As the meal progressed, she found herself becoming sickened by her girlfriend's actions. The way Barbara kept leaning confidentially toward him and accidentally brushing against him robbed her appetite. The boldness of the flirtation left little to the imagination of the onlookers, and they were many. Jed did not rebuff Barbara's advances. In fact, Elizabeth was certain that the amused interest in his eyes was meant to encourage.

By the time the last course was served, anger was smouldering inside her, igniting into hot flames whenever her eyes wavered toward Jed, which was becoming increasingly often. The merry sound of Barbara's laughter drew her gaze again, and this time it was met and held by Jed's. As his mouth quirked in lazy amusement at one corner, Elizabeth realized her eyes were revealing her distaste and disgust for their conduct.

Then Barbara's hand was touching the sleeve of his suit jacket in light possession, drawing his attention back to her. Elizabeth stared at her untouched dessert plate, her nerves so taut that she felt at any moment they would snap. Smiling stiffly at Allan, she excused herself from the table. She cursed silently at the way she was drawing attention to herself, but she didn't care. She had to get away from the table to regain her perspective.

In the powder room, she waved aside the administrations of the attendant, taking deep, calming breaths and willing herself to relax the tense cords in her neck. Turning on the cold water tap, she let the chilling liquid stream over the insides of her wrists to cool the feverish heat in her veins.

When she left the powder room, Elizabeth still didn't feel sufficiently in control to return to the table. Luckily her role as chairman of the dinner committee allowed her to enter the kitchens without a questioning look as to her motives. She deliberately took her time waiting until the moment when the guests were leaving the dining area to return to the reception room where a small dance band had been engaged to play.

Unfortunately Allan was standing with Jed and Barbara. Elizabeth hesitated for an instant, about to change direction, when Jed saw her. Fixing a smile on her face, she tried to pretend that she had just that moment seen them, but she didn't think Jed was fooled.

"Is everything in order?" Allan inquired with a welcoming smile.

"It seems to be," she answered in what she hoped sounded like a satisfied sigh.

"I'm glad my only responsibility was in selling tickets," said Barbara, her hand resting on the inside of Jed's arm. "Now I can simply enjoy the party."

"How astute of Elizabeth to select you to sell tickets," Jed murmured, glancing at the blonde. "I doubt that there was a man in town who refused to buy one from you, unless his wife was around."

"Jed Carrel!" Barbara sounded properly shocked, but it was only a pose.

Elizabeth moistened her lips and turned to Allan. "I hear the band is very good," she said.

As if on cue, the, band struck the opening chord of the first song. A hand lightly touched her arm. Elizabeth stared at its owner, unable to keep the disdain from glittering viridescently in her eyes at Jed's touch.

"It's only fitting," he said quietly, a mocking challenge in his gaze, "that since a Carrel is mainly responsible for this evening, we should lead the first dance."

If she hadn't been so certain that it was what Jed expected, she would have refused. Instead she inclined her head in agreement and allowed him to take her hand. She sensed that neither Allan nor Barbara approved, but there wasn't any way they could protest.

Two couples had started on to the empty dance floor at the band's prelude to 'Beautiful Ohio'. They stepped near the edge when they saw Jed leading Elizabeth on to the floor. In the center of the floor, he turned her into his arms and stopped. His eyes swept over her almost grimly unenthusiastic expression with a lazily relaxed study.

"I feel as if I'm holding a cold fish. Loosen up, Liza," Jed chided softly. "And smile. You're not going to an execution."

"I'm not?" But she smiled sweetly, forcing her muscles to become pliant under his gliding touch as he led her into the first step.

The firm pressure of the hand at her back made it easy for her to follow his lead. With each step she became more fluid, the rigidity lessening as if answering the challenge of his natural grace. From the first he had held her gaze. Now Elizabeth found herself becoming fascinated by the darkening amber hues. They glided twice around the floor before the first couple joined them. Jed slowed their steps and confined their route to a smaller area of the floor.

"Isn't it better to have these duty dances over in the beginning?" The spell of the dreamy, sentimental tune was broken by his faintly sarcastic tone.

Breaking free of his compelling features, Elizabeth stared at the contrast of the white shirt collar against the dark tan of his throat. Her own throat felt dry and parched, caused no doubt by the heat that was emanating from the hand spread on her back and the rock-firm muscles of his thighs.

"Yes, much better," Elizabeth agreed huskily, straining slightly against his arm so she wouldn't be held too closely against his hips.

"Now everyone is saying how very well we dance together." From her side vision she could see that his eyes never left her face, although her own made a quick sweep of the room to affirm his statement. They were the object of much interested scrutiny, "Had I not danced with you, they would have been wondering all night why."

"Would you have cared?" she challenged.

Jed grinned. "I wonder what the townspeople would say if they knew how easily sarcasm slips from the alluring mouth of the young and beautiful widow Carrel. That's what they call you, you know—the young widow Carrel." The line of his firm mouth became crooked with derision. "They regard you as a courageous figure, rising above the tragedy that befell you so young, always behaving with the utmost decorum, and faithful to the loving memory of your husband. Perhaps you should apply for sainthood?"

A betraying crimson flush raged across her face. "Must you make it sound as if it's something I should be ashamed of?"

"Blushing—another rare commodity." There was the sensation of an invisible shrug. "I've always been skeptical of the "goody two-shoes" in the world, maybe because very early in life I became tired of being reminded what a good boy Jeremy was when I knew all along that he wasn't any different from me. I took the blame for some of his pranks too many times."

"Must we discuss Jerry?" Elizabeth demanded uneasily. There was the sickening knowledge that she couldn't visualize her husband's face without the benefit of his picture.

"Is the memory too painful?" Jed taunted, his eyes narrowing on her averted profile.

Ebony dark curls touched the bareness of her back as she tilted her head to direct the flaring resentment in her green eyes up to his face. She longed to startle him with the admission that her recollection of those brief moments as Jeremy's wife was hazy, that she had almost forgotten he had ever existed until Jed returned. The memory of her first meeting with Jed was clearer and more vivid than her wedding night with her husband, his brother. She obeyed the inner caution that checked the admission.

"Think what you like," she replied bitterly. "You will anyway, regardless of what I say."

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" he murmured with piercing softness. "I'm curious why you're so defensive every time I mention his name."

"Maybe it's because, you are so offensive," she retorted.

The song ended and she moved as swiftly as possible out of his arms. Her legs were treacherously unsteady. She realized that they had been all along, but the firmness of Jed's supporting hold had blinded her to it. His rangy stride had him at her side almost instantly, an arm circling the back of her waist as he guided her off the dance floor.

"Out of condition?" he mocked in an undertone.

"I believe it's the immense relief I feel that I don't have to dance with you again," Elizabeth muttered savagely beneath her breath.

"Ah, there's your adoring Allan," Jed smiled wickedly, "waiting patiently for me to return you to him. Do you know, he reminds me of Jerry?"

"He doesn't look at all like him," she answered sharply, secure in that statement since Alan was light-complected and Jeremy had been dark.

"Not in looks," he chuckled, "in temperament. Your Allan will never make waves. He'd be too concerned he'd upset the boat he was in."

"What's the matter, Jed?" Her temper flared. "Are you jealous because Allan has made a success of his life while you've come home a failure?"

"Oh, Liza!" Anger trembled in the sighing way Jed spoke her name despite the tight control in his voice. He breathed in deeply, caution lights flashing in his narrowed look. "You make waves, too, don't you?"

Elizabeth almost ran the last few steps to Allan, intimidated more than she cared to admit by the anger she had provoked. There was the frightening knowledge that she had been making waves and the last one had nearly swamped her boat. Allan was the lifeline and she clung to his hand tightly.

Barbara had been waiting with Allan and she stepped forward quickly to meet Jed. He smiled at her as if in answer to the silent promise in her eyes. The same feeling of distaste began to tie Elizabeth's stomach into knots again.

"I'm in need of a drink, Barbara," Jed stated, sliding a still smouldering look to Elizabeth. "Why don't you lead me to the bar again?"

"Would you like a cocktail?" Allan offered.

Elizabeth felt in need of a burning jolt of alcohol, but not for anything did she want to follow Jed and Barbara. She refused firmly, the vigorous shake of her head trying to dispel the warning voices that kept whispering to her.

The evening had been hopelessly ruined, but she fought against it, determined to have as much fun as Jed. Allan was most attentive and her smiles and laughter encouraged him even more. It was unkind and unfair to focus her green eyes on him whenever Jed's shadow fell on her. No matter how hard she tried, Elizabeth was unable to ignore him.

Despite Barbara's attempt to monopolize him, Elizabeth noticed when he danced with others. More duty dances, she had thought viciously. Resentment seethed behind her smiles. It exploded into disgust and hatred every time she saw Jed and Barbara on the dance floor.

By midnight her head was pounding from the tension of constantly suppressing her emotions. She was certain she could not endure another minute without screaming. Her nerves were raw. Her stomach churned with nauseating constancy. She nearly cried with relief when she saw Rebecca approaching her.

"I think it's time we should leave, Elizabeth," her mother-in-law stated after smiling politely to Allan. We promised the sitter we wouldn't be late."

Inwardly Elizabeth recognized that Rebecca was not motivated by any consideration of the schoolgirl watching Amy. Just as her mother-in-law didn't like to be the first to arrive, she didn't like to be the last to leave. Besides, it wouldn't be proper for a Carrel to be too fond of parties.

The idea was forming in Allan's expression to offer to take Elizabeth home. She knew that once outside the walls of the club, she would not be pleasant company. Considering the way she had behaved toward him all evening, he would find her changed attitude puzzling and totally unlike her. Before he could speak, she did.

"I'm ready whenever you are, Rebecca," she agreed quickly, dredging into her reserves to turn to Allan and smile. "Perhaps we can get together for lunch one day this week."

"Yes—" he hesitated slightly before resigning himself to her half promise. "Yes, we'll do that."

A brief exchange of goodbyes and Elizabeth and Rebecca were walking toward the exit. "Did you get the keys from Jed?" Elizabeth inquired, clicking open her evening bag to see if by chance she had a spare set for the car.