Morning Song Read online

  ‘You should get some good hiking shoes,’ he commented, looking down at her moccasined feet. ‘You’re going to kill yourself in those things, or at the very least, break your ankle.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied, trying not to pant for breath as the climb grew more arduous, ‘but I don’t intend to do anything this stupid again, so I don’t think they would be worth the investment.’

  ‘You should do it every day,’ he replied, guiding her around another spray of shattered boulders which blocked the path. ‘That is, unless you want to go through the rest of your life with that unsightly limp.’

  Lauren jerked her arm away, demanding gruffly, ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘I’ve had a few ski injuries,’ Shane responded mildly. ‘Nothing as bad as yours, of course, but enough to give me the basics of physical therapy, and to know,’ he added, slipping his arm about her waist, ‘that your knee is probably killing you right about now. Let’s rest over here.’

  She had no intention of arguing with him over that, and he led her to a small grassy knoll sprinkled with small blue wildflowers and feathery pine-cones. He brushed away the pine-cones and then, with surprising thoughtfulness, offered his hands for balance as she clumsily lowered herself to the ground. This unexpected attention made her uncomfortable, and the feel of his strong, steady hands beneath her fingers—just as his arm about her waist had a moment ago—made her feel shy and gangly and much too aware of him as a physical being, rather than just an object for anger or spite.

  Shane stretched out on the grass beside her, very close, his long legs crossed at the ankles, leaning back on his elbows. The wind ruffled his hair, and she noticed that its pale brown colour was peppered with just the faintest hint of silvery grey—something noticeable only in bright sunlight, she supposed—and that his features, when not gathered into a stormy frown or distorted by sarcasm, were quite pleasant to look at. Now the sun shadowed his face interestingly, emphasising the healthy brown of his skin and the tiny crinkles about his mouth and his eyes, and reflecting a clear, untroubled light in the multi-coloured depths of his eyes. Before meeting him, Lauren had never before thought of him as attractive—she hadn’t thought he was unattractive; she simply hadn’t thought of it at all—and it came as something of a surprise to her to notice that he was very well built, with strong shoulders and arms, firmly muscled thighs which were clearly defined by the tight jeans he wore, flat abdomen and broad chest which he showed to advantage with tailored shirts, the contrast between his healthy masculinity and her own lack of feminine attributes was painfully apparent to Lauren; it made her wish she had worn a bulky coat to hide her thin chest and skinny hips, that she had taken time to put on a little make-up this morning or at least checked her hair in the mirror before they left. It made her feel ridiculously like an awkward thirteen-year-old, and that was an image which particularly grated, because he had already made it clear that was exactly how he saw her.

  She turned her eyes away from him and tried to concentrate on the view, which was, in fact, spectacular. The valley stretched below them in all its vibrant shades of red and gold, the blue-green of a mountain rose to the west, and, by straining her eyes, she could just make out a hazy strip of highway in the distance. Directly below them was a glimpse of the roof of the house, and she was surprised they had come this far. She encircled her knee with her arms and sighed, ‘My, this is pretty, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hmm.’ He plucked up a tiny blue flower and absently tossed it aside. ‘All it needs is big black letters in the sky saying “Come to Colorado”. Picture-postcard perfect.’

  Lauren glanced at him suspiciously, wondering if he was retreating into his familiar cynicism, but there was no sign of it on his face. She tried to keep the conversation neutral. ‘When are you leaving?’

  ‘A few days,’ he responded, his eyes upon the distant landscape. ‘I like to be back on the coast before the snow starts to fly.’ And then he glanced at her. ‘It can’t be any too soon for you, I imagine.’

  She replied evenly, proud of her composure, ‘I don’t know why you say that. It doesn’t make any difference to me what your plans are.’

  ‘Oh, no?’ He shifted his gaze back to the horizon. ‘It’s obvious you’ve been fretting since you got here, and you resent the fact that Van and Marie aren’t giving you their undivided attention. You counted on having them petting and pampering you all winter, didn’t you? You have to be centre stage and you don’t like sharing the spotlight.’

  She gaped at him. ‘That’s—ridiculous!’ She was genuinely incensed. ‘I never did or said anything to give you that impression—how dare you make such a rash judgment! What I—resent is your high-handed manner and overbearing methods, not to mention your uncontrollable temper and your damned arrogance! And if you want to know the truth, no, you can’t leave any too soon for me. Things will be a lot more pleasant around here when you do!’

  ‘Ah, well,’ he said negligently, and she knew he had been baiting her. ‘What can you expect from a person who’s twisted and ugly on the inside?’ He glanced at her. ‘A spiritual and emotional monster, I believe you said?’

  ‘Implied,’ she corrected coldly, even though her cheeks were burning with that ruthless reminder of her heartless treatment of him yesterday.

  Shane remained completely unruffled. ‘So,’ he said, plucking up another flower and carelessly tossing it aside, ‘if you didn’t come here to be adored and catered to, what are you doing here?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she replied huffily. ‘I was invited.’

  ‘You didn’t have anything better to do than live off the charity of friends for the winter?’

  Her eyes darkened, and with a great effort she controlled her temper. She said simply, ‘No.’

  ‘Why aren’t you working?’

  ‘Look,’ she said evenly, proud of the way she was refusing to lose control no matter how he goaded her, ‘if you know about my injury, you also know that I was a dancer. I can’t do that any more. That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m not working.’

  ‘I see,’ he reflected, carefully pulling the petals one by one off another wildflower. ‘In other words, you’re a worthless has been.’

  She caught her breath, amazed at how easily and neatly she had stepped into his trap. She fought the impulse to rage .at him, or to simply get up and stalk away, for it was much more satisfying to give him back his own. ‘Oh,’ she said softly, and with deceptive mildness, ‘very clever. Of course you overlooked one minor detail. I was forced to give up my career. You chose to give up yours.’

  He turned to look at her, leaning on one elbow, and the swift anger she had expected her comment to provoke was noticeably absent in his expression. ‘I merely wanted to make a point,’ he said. ‘I don’t think either one of us wants to engage in mortal combat with the other—besides the fact that it’s embarrassing Marie and Van and putting a lot of unnecessary stress on all our nerves, it’s a waste of time and energy. There’s no reason we can’t behave like civilised people and even get along fairly well together as long as we keep to one simple rule: you stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours.’

  ‘I assure you I have no interest in your business whatsoever,’ she told him coolly, but she could not resist one final stab. ‘Especially since you don’t have any business any more to be interested in.’

  Shane muttered an oath and rolled over on his back, his splayed fingers across his forehead shielding his eyes from the sun. ‘This is marvellous,’ he said dryly. ‘I may as well go home now; I can see I’m going to have you like an albatross around my neck until I do.’ She bristled, but he went on, ‘do you realise, Miss Davis, that I’ve managed my life quite well for the past thirty-three years without any help whatsoever from star-struck adolescents—’

  She interrupted him firmly, and with great self-control, ‘If you brought me all the way up here just to insult me or to pick a fight, you could have saved yourself the trouble and done it just as w
ell at home. And as a matter of fact, that’s just where I’d like to be right now.’

  She started to rise, but his hand lightly on her arm stopped her. As he looked at her his expression changed from mild annoyance to something less readable, and he said thoughtfully, ‘No, I don’t think I brought you here to insult you. Or maybe I did. Maybe I thought it was about time I evened the score.’ His eyes were very clear, the tone of his voice serious. She was acutely aware of the light touch of his fingers on her arm and she could not make herself pull away. ‘Maybe,’ he continued, ‘I thought I could spare Marie’s and Van’s ears by fighting with you up here, or maybe I really thought it was possible for us to make peace. Or maybe ...’ His hand trailed from her arm to her waist, his fingers warm and sure against the fragile outline of her ribs. His voice softened a fraction, and his face suddenly seemed much closer. ‘... I brought you here just to do this ...’

  Lauren’s heart lurched and quickened and a thousand things streaked through her mind in that half second as his fingers tightened imperceptibly on her waist and his face moved closer to hers. There was a leaping of pulses and an incredible difficulty breathing as the reality of the unexpected moment leapt upon her—the moment she had yearned for in dreams so secret she would not even admit them to herself, the time when she would be wrapped in Shane Holt’s embrace and feel his lips upon hers. There was the overpowering need to slip her arms about him and draw him close and let herself be totally lost to that one ecstatic moment of fantasy ... There was the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the lazy intent in his eyes, the touch of his fingers on her ribs and the overwhelming nearness of him ... Acutely aware of his vital masculinity and her own frail incompetence, she turned her face away abruptly.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said quickly, and got to her feet.

  She started down the hill at a clumsy, uneven pace, and did not look back. After a moment she heard Shane get up and follow her.

  For a time he walked behind her, and she used the solitude to regain her composure, to make an effort to cool her cheeks and steady her breathing. She was frustrated with herself and with him, and she still felt shaky inside, very aware of the limp which had intensified with physical fatigue and emotional stress. She felt clumsy and ungainly, homely and unattractive, and angry with him for making her so aware of it.

  After a time he lengthened his stride and walked beside her, his hands in his pockets, his demeanour casual. And then he asked mildly, ‘Is there something I should know about what just happened up there?’

  She swallowed hard on her embarrassment. He did not even have the grace to let it drop. What should she expect? She could hedge, or ignore his question, or try to outwalk him and probably end up breaking her neck. She stopped and turned to him defiantly, and responded, ‘I’m just getting a little tired of being mocked, and I think you have a pretty perverted sense of humour.’

  His eyes reflected genuine astonishment. ‘There’s something perverted about wanting to kiss a pretty girl? I would think it would be perverted if I didn’t try. I happen to find you attractive—’

  ‘Ha!’ She turned on her heel with an angry sound of bitter laughter. ‘It must be a long time since you’ve had a woman, then.’

  His startled bark of laughter sent a hot flush to her cheeks and she could have bitten her tongue, only that would not bring the hasty, uncalculated words back. She refused to look at him. ‘Why, Miss Davis,’ he exclaimed, keeping up with her, ‘you do say the crudest things!’ She could feel his amused gaze upon her and she avoided it deliberately, quickening her stumbling steps. Then he added casually, ‘As a matter of fact, it has been a fairly long time, but what has that to do with anything?’

  She turned to him, her cheeks flaming, determined to put an end to this conversation. ‘Look,’ she said steadily, ‘I’m not attractive. I’m skinny and awkward and ...’ she gestured viciously towards her leg, ‘crippled. You don’t even like me—we both know that. What I don’t know is what kind of perverse pleasure you thought you would get out of coming on to me, because it certainly wasn’t physical—’

  There was an odd, wicked look in his eye which should have warned her as he interrupted mildly, ‘Well, I don’t know about that; you didn’t give me a chance to find out.’ And then he drew her to him, full length, before she had time to even draw a breath of protest, catching her so off guard she did not have even a moment to struggle. And then, swiftly, efficiently, pressing her close to his strong thighs and broad chest, he ran his hands over her slight body from hips to waist to shoulders—without intimacy or affection, but deftly and impersonally. Then he pronounced carelessly, ‘You’re right: all sharp angles and flat planes. Nothing interesting there.’

  Lauren hurled herself away from him with a muffled, angry sob; immediately she tripped over a root and almost went sprawling, and then his strong hands were on her waist, drawing her to her feet. She felt insulted and violated, and she hated him. Laughter danced in his eyes and teasing words were on his lips, but one look at her scarlet cheeks and glittering eyes erased his amusement. His expression changed to muted amazement and he said softly, ‘Hey, you’re really serious!’

  She struggled against his hold on her waist. ‘Let me go,’ she demanded, through clenched teeth. ‘Just—let me go!’

  For a moment he seemed undecided, then he said, ‘And watch you fall down this hill and break both your legs?’ he slipped his arm about her waist and took a firm clasp on her left arm with his free hand. ‘Lean on me,’ he suggested quietly. ‘It will be easier that way, and I know you’re tired.’

  She struggled once more, violently. To her chagrin, she felt her eyes burn with angry tears. ‘I don’t need your pity!’

  ‘Oh no?’ Shane responded mildly, totally oblivious to her ineffectual efforts to free herself. He started walking again and she had no choice but to follow. ‘I thought that was exactly what you wanted. Or are you feeling sorry enough for yourself that you don’t have room for anyone’s else’s concern?’

  ‘You’re an impossible man!’ she choked, and hated the feel of his arm about her and his hand supporting her—in exactly the same way a nurse would assist an invalid patient. ‘I wish you’d just leave me alone!’

  ‘I seem to recall making the same request of you not too long ago.’

  Lauren took an unsteady breath, and stopped. He allowed her enough freedom of movement to turn and look at him, and she said quietly, ‘All right, you’ve made your point. I’m sorry I interfered in your life and I’ll stay out of your way from now on. Fair?’

  He answered her evenly, ‘And I’m sorry for what I said a minute ago. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive about it. I wasn’t trying to be cruel.’ And then he slipped his arm through hers and started walking again. ‘Also, you should know I don’t apologise very often, so you have every right to be impressed.’

  But Lauren did not feel impressed. She felt abused and drained and victimised by the troubled emotions which were clashing within her. She just didn’t want to fight any more.

  When they reached the house she went to her room and slept until dinner time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For the next few days Lauren did keep strictly out of his way, and Shane regarded her efforts with a sort of amused perplexity. Several times he made overtures of friendliness to her—usually within the sight or hearing of Marie and Van, for the sake of a good impression—but she received them indifferently. Most of the time he wasn’t around anyway; he spent his time on endless walks in the mountains or fishing for trout in a nearby stream, or cloistered with Van presumably discussing business. Lauren wandered aimlessly through the long, days, resisting Marie’s attempts to entertain her, going to bed early and getting up late, and becoming accustomed to long afternoon naps.

  One day at lunch Marie expressed concern over Lauren’s apparent boredom. Lauren tried to dismiss it politely by commenting, ‘It is very restful here.’ A chuckle went around the table, and then she had to admit, ‘But I really don�
��t see what you two find to do with yourselves all winter. How do you keep from going stir-crazy?’

  ‘Well, it’s bound to be an adjustment,’ Van agreed, ‘after the life you’ve been used to. But we manage to keep occupied. As long as we’re not snowed in there’s no problem, but when we can’t get out of the house we just try to make the best of it. Television, video games, cosy evenings snuggling by the fire...’ He glanced at his wife with a grin. ‘Going to bed early.’

  ‘Well, that’s all very fine for you two,’ commented Shane as Marie gave her husband a demure look and turned back to her salad, ‘but Lauren has no one to snuggle up with, and going to bed early can be pretty boring when you do it alone. Did it ever occur to you, that she might be missing the company of people her own age, or perhaps even be mooning over a lost lover?’

  Lauren stared at him, aghast that he would dare mock her so blatantly in the presence of Marie and Van, but there was no sign of mockery on his face—only bland concern. Among his many other talents, she discovered bitterly, he was also a consummate actor. And how dared he patronise her, make a point of embarrassing her ...

  Marie interrupted her furious condemnations to enquire curiously, ‘Is that so, Lauren? You never mentioned

  And the worst was, he even had Marie believing it! ‘No,’ she said shortly, ‘I’m perfectly happy here and I don’t miss anyone. I’m afraid Shane was just making a rather tasteless joke.’

  ‘It’s my perverted sense of humour again,’ Shane told her blandly, and then suggested, ‘What about that young man you left behind—your partner?’

  Again she stared at him. ‘Joel? He was just my partner, there was nothing...’ And then she demanded suspiciously, ‘How did you know about him?’

  Van looked embarrassed, and Shane shrugged. ‘Word gets around.’

  Marie quickly changed the subject, and when she and Van were successfully engaged in their own conversation, Lauren demanded of Shane in a furious undertone, ‘I thought the deal was we stay out of each other’s business.’