Witness (11 page)

“I suppose there's always that possibility, isn't there? If that happens, then this nightmare could go on forever.”

“Let's take it one day at a time. We'll get you through the trial, then worry about what might or might not happen afterward.”

Deborah nodded. Ashe glanced down at the overturned table, the scattered tea service, the spilled tea.

“I'll clean up this mess,” he said.

“No, please.” She looked at him and wished she hadn't. His gaze said he still wanted her. “I'll take care of it. I'd like for you to leave. Now.”

He walked out of her bedroom. She stood there trembling with unshed tears choking her.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
She knelt down on the floor, righted the tea table and picked up the silver service. A dark stain marred the blue-and-cream perfection of the rug. She jumped up and ran into the bathroom, wet a frayed hand towel and glanced into the mirror above the sink.

Dear Lord. Her hair was in disarray, the long strands fanned out around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes overly bright. Her lips were swollen. A pink rash covered her neck and the top of her left breast, a result of Ashe's beard stubble. She looked like a woman who'd been ravished. Suddenly she felt like a woman who'd been ravished.

Tears gathered in her eyes. She laid her head against the mirror and cried.

 

I
N THE WEEK
since they had begun their pretense, Ashe hadn't kissed her again, indeed he'd barely touched her, except in front of others—a part of their performance as lovers. In another week Lon Sparks's trial would begin. But when it ended, would the threats end, too, or would they turn deadly? Ashe screened all of Deborah's calls and her mail. The daily threats continued, meaningless threats since Deborah never heard the messages or read the letters. Two more little
gifts
had arrived, both of these delivered by unknown messenger to her home. One, a green garden snake, Ashe had taken outside and released. The other had been more ominous, one he'd made sure neither Deborah nor Miss Carol saw. A newspaper photograph of Deborah, singed around the edges, a book of matches laid on top and the words “Your house might catch on fire” scrawled in red ink across the newspaper.

Nerve-racking threats to be sure, harassment to say the least, but not once had Deborah's life actually been in jeopardy. Was Buck Stansell playing some sort of sick game or was he trying to throw them off guard, waiting to act at the last moment?

“It's been a long time since you've been in the country club.” Carol Vaughn slipped her arm through Ashe's. He looked away from the living room window where he'd been staring sightlessly outside while he waited for Deborah. He smiled at Miss Carol. “Eleven years.”

“The night Whitney announced her engagement to George.” Carol patted Ashe on his forearm. “She was such a selfish girl, but always so bubbly. Now she's a very sad, selfish woman.”

“Are you trying to warn me about something, Miss Carol?”

“Do I need to warn you?”

“I haven't been carrying a torch for Whitney all these years, if that's what's troubling you.”

“No, I didn't think you had. You wouldn't look at my daughter as if she were your favorite meal and you hadn't eaten in a long time, if you were in love with another woman.”

Had he been that obvious? So apparent in his desire for Deborah that even her own mother had noticed? “Why, Miss Carol, what big eyes you have.”

“And sharp teeth, too. If for one minute I thought you'd hurt Deborah again, I'd have no qualms about chewing you up into little pieces.”

“And you could do it, too.” Taking her hand in his, he walked her across the room and seated her on the sofa. “I never meant to hurt Deborah. I made a mistake, but I tried to keep from making an even bigger mistake. I was honest with her, and I paid dearly for that honesty.”

“My husband adored Deborah. She was our only child. I didn't agree with what he did to you, and I told him so at the time. But Wallace could not be reasoned with on any subject, and certainly not when he felt Deborah had been wronged.”

“I never made Deborah any promises eleven years ago, and I won't make any to her now. None that I can't keep.” Ashe heard Deborah's and Allen's voices coming from the upstairs landing. “I'm attracted to Deborah and she's attracted to me.
We're both adults now. If things become complicated, we'll deal with them.”

Carol nodded meekly. Ashe couldn't understand the wary look in her blue eyes, that sad expression on her face. What was Miss Carol so afraid would happen?

Allen rushed down the stairs and into the living room. “Come see,” he said. “Deborah's beautiful. She looks like one of those models on TV.”

Ashe helped Miss Carol to her feet and they followed Allen into the hallway. All three of them looked up to the top of the stairs where Deborah stood.

For one split second Ashe couldn't breathe. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything as lovely as the woman who walked slowly down the stairs, the diamonds in her ears and around her throat dimmed by her radiance.

Allen glanced up at Ashe, then punched him in the side. “See, what'd I tell you?”

“You're right, pal. She's beautiful.”

Deborah descended the staircase, butterflies wild in her stomach. How many times had she dreamed of a real date with Ashe McLaughlin? Now, it was a reality. Now, eleven years too late.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, Allen to his left. The sight of her son at his father's side tugged at Deborah's heart. What would Ashe say if she told him the truth about Allen? Would he be glad? Or would he be sorry?

Ashe looked at Deborah, seeing her as if for the first time, all sparkling and vibrant, beautiful beyond description. How could any man see her and not want her?

The royal blue satin draped across her shoulders in a shawl collar, narrowing to her tiny waist and flaring into a full, gathered skirt, ankle-length gown. Her satin shoes matched the dress to perfection, and when she stopped at the foot of the stairs, Ashe noticed that the deep rich color she wore turned her blue eyes to sapphires.

“You look lovely, my dear.” Carol Vaughn kissed her daughter's cheek. “Please give my regrets to Whitney. I'm sure she'll understand that I'm not quite up to these late-night social affairs.”

Deborah hugged her mother close. Her beautiful, brave mother, whose bout with cancer had taken its toll on all of them. “I dread going,” Deborah whispered so low that only Carol heard her words. “I have no idea what Whitney will do. She's bound to make a play for Ashe.”

Pulling out of Deborah's arms, Carol smiled. “You two run along now and have a wonderful time.” Carol glanced at Ashe who hadn't taken his eyes off Deborah. “And don't feel that you need to come home early.”

Allen rushed out of the hallway and into the library, returning quickly with a gold foil–wrapped gift. “Don't forget George's birthday present.” Allen shook the small package. “What is it anyway?”

“It's a fourteen-karat gold money clip.” Deborah took the gift. “Whitney mentioned that George had misplaced his money clip.”

“Hocked it, no doubt.” Carol nudged Ashe in the center of his back. “I do believe you've taken Ashe's breath away with your loveliness.”

“Yeah, he looks like somebody hit him in the head.” Allen laughed. “Hey, man, have you got it bad or what?”

Ashe jabbed Allen playfully in the ribs, lifted him up off the floor with one arm and rubbed his fist across the top of the boy's head before placing him back on his feet. “You wouldn't make fun of a guy for mooning over his girl, would you?”

“Naw, as long as you don't kiss her in front of me.” Putting his hand on his hip, Allen stood up straight and gave Ashe a hard look. “If I catch you kissing her, then, as the man of the house, I'd have to ask you what your intentions are, wouldn't I?”

“Yes, Allen, I suppose you would,” Ashe said. “So, I'll tell
you what, I'll try to make sure I kiss Deborah when you're not around.”

“Will you two stop this.” Deborah tried to hug Allen, but he wriggled away from her. “What's the matter? Have you gotten too big to give me a hug and a kiss?”

“No, that's not it.” Grinning, Allen swiped his hand in front of him in a negative gesture. “I'm just afraid your boyfriend will get jealous and sock me.”

Allen broke into peals of boyish laughter. Ashe chuckled. Carol covered her mouth to hide her giggle. Deborah shook her head in mock disgust.

“Let's go now, Ashe, before I wind up socking Allen,” Deborah said.

Taking the long satin jacket from where Deborah carried it across her arm, Ashe wrapped it around her shoulders. He slipped his arm about her waist and escorted her out to her repaired and newly painted Cadillac waiting in the drive.

When he opened the door, he turned and lifted her hand to his lips. “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

He kissed her wrist. Chills shivered through her. She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

He helped her into the car, rounded the Caddy and got behind the wheel. “No matter what happens tonight, there are a few things I want you to keep in mind.”

“Such as?” Deborah smoothed the gathers in her skirt, her fingers gliding nervously over the heavy satin. She didn't look at Ashe.

“Such as I didn't come back to Sheffield to protect Whitney. I wouldn't have, for any amount of money. And I'm not staying in town because of her or issuing threats to dangerous men because of her.”

“Did she hurt you so badly back then that you hate her now? You know they say there's only a fine line between love and hate. Maybe you still care about her more than you'd like to admit. After all, she was your first love and—”

Ashe grabbed Deborah so quickly that she didn't have time to think of resisting. His kiss came so hard and fast that it obliterated every thought from her mind, filling her with the heat of his anger, the determination of his desire. His mouth devoured hers, the kiss turning from bold strength to gentle power. Her hands crept up around his neck. He stroked her waist. The satin jacket fell from her shoulders leaving them bare. Ashe allowed his lips to retreat from hers, as he nibbled at her bottom lip and tasted her chin. He lowered his head to her shoulder, his mouth closing over her soft flesh.

Shutting her eyes and tossing back her head, Deborah moaned. “Ashe…”

“Don't ever try to tell me how I feel.” Lifting his head, he stared into her blue eyes. “Whitney wasn't my first anything. I'd had a dozen girls before her. You should remember all the girls I dated. And as far as my being in love with her, I wasn't. I was infatuated with what she represented. She represented a dream. That night at the country club when she announced her engagement, I saw my dream come to an end.”

“Neither of us has ever been able to forget that night, have we? But for different reasons.”

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If you think I've ever forgotten what it was like making love to you, then you're wrong.”

“I suppose you remember all of them, don't you? Whitney, the dozen before her, and God only knows how many since.”

Ashe fell backward against the soft leather of the seat, shook his head and laughed. “You're jealous! You are honest-to-goodness jealous.”

“I am not!” Deborah jerked the satin jacket up around her shoulders.

“Somewhere deep down inside, Deborah Vaughn, you're the one who still cares. I still mean something to you, don't I?”

Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes, you mean something to me. You are my first and only lover. You are the father of my
child, the child I can never claim as my own. Oh, yes, Ashe McLaughlin, you most definitely still mean something to me.

“I think you're taking the part of playing my lover far too seriously.” Deborah turned around in the seat, focusing her attention on the front porch lights. “We are pretending to care about each other. That's all.”

“That's not all,” Ashe said. “You asked me if I remember all the women I've had sex with. Well, yes, I do remember. Some more than others. But I didn't have sex with you, Deborah.” There in the darkness his voice sounded deeper and darker and more sensuous than ever. “I made love to you. I took all that sweet, innocent passion you offered and I drowned myself in your love. I had never been in so much pain, and I had never needed a woman's unselfish love the way I needed yours that night. Don't you think I know that I did all the taking and you did all the giving.”

“Please, Ashe, I don't want—”

“What? You don't want to hear the truth? You don't want to hear how much I wanted to keep on taking what you offered? How much guts it took for me to reject you? Hell, I knew I couldn't give a girl like you what you should have. I knew the best thing I could do for you was to get out of your life and stay out.”

“And that's exactly what you did.” Deborah cringed at the accusatory tone of her own voice. “You couldn't even stay in the same town with me, could you? You couldn't hang around long enough to find—”

Dear God, she'd been about to say
find out if you'd gotten me pregnant!

“None of this matters now, does it?” Pulling the shoulder harness across her, she snapped the seat belt in place. “If we don't leave for the country club right now, we're going to be more than fashionably late.”

“Sooner or later we'll have to finish this conversation,” Ashe said. “I think we both have quite a lot to get off our chests.”

“It'll have to be later.”

“Fine.” He turned on the overhead lights. “You might want to check your makeup. I think most of your lipstick is on my mouth.” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face.