Temptation

  claim. My woman. My property. My fiancée! She made a sound, somewhere between disgust and derision, that had one of the horses blowing in response.

  If her aunt hadn’t taken him away, Eden wasn’t sure what she might have done. And, at this point, she was equally unsure she wouldn’t have enjoyed it immensely.

  But worse, a hundred times worse, was Chase. As she stared into space, her pencil drummed a rapid rat-a-tat-tat on the clipboard. He’d never once spoken of love or affection. There had been no promises asked or given, and yet he’d behaved just as abominably as Eric.

  That was where the comparison ended, she admitted, as she pressed the heel of her hand to her brows. She was in love with Chase. Desperately in love. If he’d said a word, if he’d given her a chance to speak, how different things might have been. But now she was discovering that leaving him was infinitely more difficult than it had been to leave Philadelphia.

  He hadn’t spoken; he hadn’t asked. The compromises she might have made for him, and only him, would never be needed now. Whatever might have been was over, she told herself, straightening her shoulders. It was time for new adjustments, new plans and, again, a new life. She had done it once, and she could do it again.

  “Plans,” she muttered to herself as she studied the clipboard again. There were so many plans to make for the following season. It would be summer again before she knew it.

  Her fingers clutched the pencil convulsively. Was that how she would live her life, from summer to summer? Would there only be emptiness in between, emptiness and waiting? How many times would she come back and walk along the lake hoping to see him?

  No. This was the mourning period. Eden closed her eyes for a moment and waited for the strength to return. You couldn’t adjust and go on unless you’d grieved first. That was something else she had learned. So she would grieve for Chase. Then she would build her life.

  “Eden. Eden, are you in there?”

  “Right here.” Eden turned as Candy rushed into the tack room.

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “What now?”

  Candy pressed a hand to her heart as if to push her breath back. “Roberta.”

  “Roberta?” Her stomach muscles balled like a fist. “Is she hurt?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone? Did her parents come early?”

  “I mean gone.” Pacing, Candy began to tug on her hair. “Her bags are all packed and stacked in her cabin. She’s nowhere in camp.”

  “Not again.” More annoyed than worried now, Eden tossed the clipboard aside. “Hasn’t that child learned anything this summer? Every time I turn around she’s off on a little field trip of her own.”

  “Marcie and Linda claim that she said she had something important to take care of before she left.” Candy lifted her hands, then let them fall. “She didn’t tell them what she was up to, that I’m sure of. You and I both know that she might only have gone to pick some flowers for her mother, but—”

  “We can’t take any chances,” Eden finished.

  “I’ve got three of the counselors out looking, but I thought you might have some idea where she could have gone before we call out the marines.” She paused to catch her breath. “What a way to round out the summer.”

  Eden closed her eyes a minute to concentrate. Conversations with Roberta scattered through her memory until she focused on one in particular. “Oh, no.” Her eyes shot open. “I think I know where she’s gone.” She was already rushing out of the tack room as Candy loped to keep up.

  “Where?”

  “I’ll need to take the car. It’ll be quicker.” Thinking fast, Eden dashed to the rear of their cabin, where the secondhand compact was parked under a gnarled pear tree. “I’d swear she’s gone to say goodbye to Chase, but make sure the orchard gets checked.”

  “Already done, but—”

  “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  “Eden—”

  The gunning of the motor drowned out Candy’s words. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring the little darling back.” She set her teeth. “If I have to drag her by her hair.”

  “Okay, but—” Candy stepped back as the compact shot forward. “Gas,” she said with a sigh as Eden drove away. “I don’t think there’s much gas in the tank.”

  Eden noticed that the sky was darkening and decided to blame Roberta for that as well. She would have sworn an oath that Roberta had gone to see Chase one last time. A three-mile hike would never have deterred a girl of Roberta’s determination.

  Eden drove under the arching sign, thinking grimly of what she would say to Roberta once she had her. The pleasure she got from that slid away as the car bucked and sputtered. Eden looked down helplessly as it jolted again, then stopped dead. The needle of the gas gauge registered a flat E.

  “Damn!” She slapped a hand on the steering wheel, then let out a yelp. Padded steering wheels weren’t part of the amenities on cars as old as this one. Nursing her aching wrist, she stepped out of the car just as the first blast of thunder shook the air. As if on cue, a torrent of rain poured down.

  For a moment, Eden merely stood beside the stalled car, her throbbing hand at her mouth, while water streamed over her. Her clothes were soaked through in seconds. “Perfect,” she mumbled; then, on the heels of that: “Roberta.” Casting one furious look skyward, she set off at a jogging run.

  Lightning cracked across the sky like a whip. Thunder bellowed in response. Each time, Eden’s heart leaped toward her throat. As each step brought her closer to Chase’s home, her fear mounted.

  What if she’d been wrong? What if Roberta wasn’t there, but was caught somewhere in the storm, wet and frightened? What if she was lost or hurt? Her breath began to hitch as anxiety ballooned inside her.

  She reached Chase’s door, soaked to the skin and terrified.

  Her pounding at the door sounded weak against the cannoning thunder. Looking back over her shoulder, Eden could see nothing but a solid wall of rain. If Roberta was out there, somewhere . . . Whirling back, she pounded with both fists, shouting for good measure.

  When Chase opened the door, she nearly tumbled over his feet. He took one look at her soaked, bedraggled figure and knew he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “Well, this is a surprise. Get you a towel?”

  Eden grabbed his shirt with both hands. “Roberta,” she managed, trying to convey everything with one word.

  “She’s in the front room.” Gently, he pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Relax, Eden, she’s fine.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Near tears, Eden pressed her fingers to her eyes. But when she lowered them, her eyes were dry and furious. “I’ll murder her. Right here, right now. Quickly.”

  Before she could carry through with her threat, Chase stepped in front of her. Now that he’d had a good taste of her temper, he no longer underestimated it. “I think I have an idea how you feel, but don’t be too rough on her. She came by to propose.”

  “Just move aside, or I’ll take you down with her.” She shoved him aside and strode past him. The moment she stood in the doorway, Eden drew a breath. “Roberta.” Each syllable was bitten off. The girl on the floor stopped playing with the dog and looked up.

  “Oh, hi, Miss Carlbough.” She grinned, apparently pleased with the company. After a moment her teeth dropped down to her lower lip. Though perhaps an optimist, Roberta was no fool. “You’re all wet, Miss Carlbough.”

  The low sound deep in Eden’s throat had Squat’s ears pricking. “Roberta,” she said again as she started forward. Squat moved simultaneously. Drawing up short, Eden gave the dog a wary glance. He sat now, his tail thumping, directly between Eden and Roberta. “Call off your dog,” she ordered without bothering to look at Chase.

  “Oh, Squat wouldn’t hurt you.” Roberta scurried across the floor to leap lovingly on his neck. Squat’s tail thumped even harder. Eden thought for a moment that he was smiling. She was certain she’d gotten a good view of his large white t
eeth. “He’s real friendly,” Roberta assured her. “Just hold your hand out and he’ll sniff it.”

  And take it off at the wrist—which was giving her enough trouble as it was. “Roberta,” Eden began again, staying where she was. “After all these weeks, aren’t you aware of the rules about leaving camp?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Roberta hooked an arm around Squat’s neck. “But it was important.”

  “That isn’t the point.” Eden folded her hands. She was aware of how she looked, how she sounded, and she knew that if she turned her head she would see Chase grinning at her. “Rules have a purpose, Roberta. They aren’t made up just to spoil your fun, but to see to order and safety. You’ve broken one of the most important ones today, and not for the first time. Miss Bartholomew and I are responsible for you. Your parents expect, and rightfully so, that we’ll . . .”

  Eden trailed off as Roberta listened, solemn-eyed. She opened her mouth again, prepared to complete the lecture, but only a shuddering breath came out. “Roberta, you scared me to death.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry, Miss Carlbough.” To Eden’s surprise, Roberta jumped up and dashed across the room to throw her arms around Eden’s waist. “I didn’t mean to, really. I guess I didn’t think anyone would miss me before I got back.”

  “Not miss you?” A laugh, a little shaky, whispered out as Eden pressed a kiss to the top of Roberta’s head. “You monster, don’t you know I’ve developed radar where you’re concerned?”

  “Yeah?” Roberta squeezed hard.

  “Yeah.”

  “I am sorry, Miss Carlbough, really I am.” She drew back so that her freckled, triangular face was tilted to Eden’s. “I just had to see Chase for a minute.” She sent Eden an intimate, feminine glance that had Eden looking quickly over at Chase.

  “Chase?” Eden repeated, knowing her emphasis on Roberta’s use of the first name would get her nowhere.

  “We had a personal matter to discuss.” Chase dropped down onto the arm of a chair. He wondered if Eden had any idea how protectively she was holding Roberta.

  Though it was difficult, Eden managed to display some dignity in her dripping clothes. “I realize it’s too much to expect a twelve-year-old to show a consistent sense of responsibility, but I would have expected more from you.”

  “I called the camp,” he said, taking the wind out of her sails. “Apparently I just missed catching you. They know Roberta’s safe.” Rising, he walked over and grabbed the tail of her T-shirt. A flick of the wrist had water dripping out. “Did you walk over?”

  “No.” Annoyed that he had done exactly what he should have done, Eden smacked his hand away. “The car . . .” She hesitated, then decided to lie. “Broke down.” She turned to frown at Roberta again. “Right before the storm.”

  “I’m sorry you got wet,” Roberta said again.

  “And so you should be.”

  “Didn’t you put gas in the car? It was out, you know.”

  Before Eden could decide to murder her after all, they were interrupted by the blast of a horn.

  “That’ll be Delaney.” Chase walked to the window to confirm it. “He’s going to run Roberta back to camp.”

  “That’s very kind of him.” Eden held her hand out for Roberta’s. “I appreciate all the trouble.”

  “Just Roberta.” Chase caught Eden’s hand before she could get away from him again. Ready and willing, or kicking and screaming, he was holding on to what he needed. “You’d better get out of those wet clothes before you come down with something.”

  “As soon as I get back to camp.”

  “My mother says you catch a chill if your feet stay wet.” Roberta gave Squat a parting hug. “See you next year,” she said to Chase, and for the first time Eden saw a hint of shyness. “You really will write?”

  “Yeah.” Chase bent down, tilted her head and kissed both cheeks. “I really will write.”

  Her freckles all but vanished under her blush. Turning, she threw herself into Eden’s arms again. “I’ll miss you, Miss Carlbough.”

  “Oh, Roberta, I’ll miss you, too.”

  “I’m coming back next year and bringing my cousin. Everyone says we’re so much alike we should be sisters.”

  “Oh,” Eden managed weakly. “Wonderful.” She hoped one winter was enough time to recharge.

  “This was the best summer ever.” Roberta gave one last squeeze as tears began to cloud Eden’s eyes. “Bye!”

  The front door was slamming behind her before Eden had taken the first step. “Roberta—”

  “It was my best summer ever, too.” Chase took her free hand before she could try for the door.

  “Chase, let me go. I have to get back.”

  “Dry clothes. Though, as I may have mentioned before, you look wonderful wet and dripping.”

  “I’m not staying,” she said, even as he tugged her toward the stairs.

  “Since I just heard Delaney pull off, and your car’s out of gas, I’d say you are.” Because she was shivering now, he hurried her up. “And you’re leaving puddles on the floor.”

  “Sorry.” He propelled her through his bedroom. Eden had a fleeting impression of quiet colors and a brass bed before she was nudged into the adjoining bath. “Chase, this is very nice of you, but if you could just drive me back—”

  “After you’ve had a hot shower and changed.”

  A hot shower. He could have offered her sable and emeralds and not tempted her half so much. Eden hadn’t had a hot shower since the first week of June. “No, I really think I should get back.”

  But the door was already closing behind him.

  Eden stared at it; then, her lower lip caught between her teeth, she looked back at the tub. Nothing she’d ever seen in her life had seemed so beautiful, so desirable. It took her less than ten seconds to give in.

  “Since I’m here anyway . . .” she mumbled, and began to peel out of her clothes.

  The first sizzle of hot spray stole her breath. Then, with a sigh of pure greed, she luxuriated in it. It was sinful, she thought as the water sluiced over her head. It was heaven.

  Fifteen minutes later, she turned the taps off, but not without regret. On the rack beside the tub was a thick, thirsty bath towel. She wrapped herself in it and decided it was nearly as good as the shower. Then she noticed her clothes were gone.

  For a moment, she only frowned at the empty rail where she’d hung them. Then she gripped the towel tighter. He must have come in and taken them while she was in the shower. Lips pursed, Eden studied the frosted glass doors and wondered how opaque they really were.

  Be practical, she told herself. Chase had come in and taken her clothes because they needed to be dried. He was simply being a considerate host. Still, her nerves drummed a bit as she lifted the navy-blue robe from the hook on the back of the door.

  It was his, of course. His scent clung to the material so that she felt he was all but in the room with her as she drew it on. It was warm and thick, but she shivered once as she secured the belt.

  It was practical, she reminded herself. The robe was nothing more than an adequate covering until her clothes were dry again. But she tilted her head so that her chin rubbed along the collar.

  Fighting off the mood, she took the towel and rubbed the mist away from the mirror. What she saw was enough to erase any romantic fantasies from her mind. True, the hot water from the shower had brought some color to her cheeks, but she hadn’t even a trace of mascara left to darken her lashes. With the color of the robe to enhance them, her eyes dominated her face. She looked as though she’d been saved just before going under for the third time. Her hair was wet, curling in little tendrils around her face. Eden dragged a hand through it a few times, but couldn’t bring it to order without a brush.

  Charming, she thought before she pulled the door open. In Chase’s bedroom she paused, wanting to look, wanting even more to touch something that belonged to him. With a shake of her head, she hurried through the bedroom and down the stairs. It was on
ly when she stopped in the doorway of the front room and saw him that her nerves returned in full force.

  He looked so right, so at ease in his workshirt and jeans as he stood in front of a nineteenth-century cabinet pouring brandy from a crystal decanter. She’d come to realize that it was his contradictions, as much as anything else, that appealed to her. At the moment, reasons didn’t matter. She loved him. Now she had to get through this last encounter before burying herself in the winter months.

  He turned and saw her. He’d known she was there, had felt her there, but had needed a moment. When he’d come into the bath to take her wet clothes, she’d been humming. He’d only seen a shadow of her behind the glass but had wanted, more than he could remember wanting anything, to push the barrier aside and take her. To hold her with her skin wet and warm, her eyes huge and aware.

  He wanted her as much, as sharply, now as she stood in the doorway dwarfed by his robe.

  So he’d taken a moment, for the simple reason that he had to be sure he could speak.

  “Better?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Her hand reached automatically for the lapels of the robe and fidgeted there. He crossed the room to offer her a snifter.