she told herself stubbornly.
“How did you wind up here?” he asked after a minute, glaring at the surroundings. “Was he sitting on the porch waiting for you?”
She sighed wearily. “I got home to find my car crushed and a tree in the middle of my living room. You were on your way to Denver and Donald was sitting on Miss Rose’s porch waiting for me. He offered me a home; what could I say?”
“How about ‘no, thanks’?” he suggested coldly. “You’ve flaunted your relationship with my cousin ever since you first met him. I’ve tolerated it because of our friendship. But living on his doorstep is something else. I can’t take that.”
“Your trust is overwhelming,” she ground out.
“It isn’t a question of trust,” he said, and he sounded bone tired. “I thought we had something more permanent going for us than a casual night together. But you quite obviously don’t share that opinion. You know what my cousin is, and how he feels about you. If you’re willing to live this close to him, you must share those feelings. I’ve tried not to believe it, but it’s too obvious now to ignore.”
“I don’t have buried desires for Donald!” she threw back.
“Prove it,” he challenged. “Move in with me.”
She lifted her head proudly. “No.”
“And that says it all, doesn’t it?” His eyes glittered at her, smoldering with anger barely held in check. “You’ve chosen him over me.”
“That’s not true!” she cried, standing up. “John, it isn’t that kind of arrangement. I’m not sleeping with him, I’m not!”
His angry gaze went up and down her with a contempt that made her want to go through the floor. “You, and my cousin…” he grated venomously.
“Donald,” she corrected. “His name is Donald, why won’t you ever use it…?”
“Did I hear my name called?” Donald paused in the doorway, wearing a dressing gown over his pajamas; he had a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands, a wicked grin on his face. “Sorry I took so long, darling….”
John seemed to explode. His fist shot out and Donald went flying to land heavily in the middle of the carpet. The glasses crashed around him, followed by the thud of the champagne bottle which, miraculously, remained unbroken.
“Now, Cousin John, was that polite?” Donald groaned, rubbing his jaw.
John didn’t even answer him. His accusing gaze was on Madeline’s white, disbelieving face. There was a contempt in his face she’d never seen as his eyes made an insulting sweep of her body in the towel, then darted back to Donald. Without a word, he turned and went out the door.
Madeline clutched her towel, her eyes accusing as they lit on Donald.
“What possessed you?” she asked coldly, indicating the mess around him.
“I heard him asking Maisie where you were, and I thought it would be nice to make friendly overtures,” he said, grinning.
“Toward whom?” she countered.
“Don’t be cross, sweet, it was one of those impulses I get occasionally to needle old Cousin John.” He chuckled. “Did you see his face? Whew! I feel fortunate to have come away with only a few loosened teeth and a dislocated jaw.”
“Would you mind taking the remains of your vulgar impulse out of my room?” she asked quietly. She felt as numb as if she’d died.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We could still drink the champagne. Or, if you’d rather,” he added with a strange leer, “we could bathe in it together.”
She walked to the closet and pulled on a robe over her towel. “Good night, Donald.”
He picked up the champagne bottle with a sigh, his expression regretful. “I’ll have the mess cleaned up in the morning. Mind the glass. Good night.”
But she didn’t reply. When he was gone, she climbed into bed in her robe and lay there with hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Why hadn’t she realized when she gave in to John that night that it would ruin what they’d had?
No more lazy days riding
“How did you wind up here?” he asked after a minute, glaring at the surroundings. “Was he sitting on the porch waiting for you?”
She sighed wearily. “I got home to find my car crushed and a tree in the middle of my living room. You were on your way to Denver and Donald was sitting on Miss Rose’s porch waiting for me. He offered me a home; what could I say?”
“How about ‘no, thanks’?” he suggested coldly. “You’ve flaunted your relationship with my cousin ever since you first met him. I’ve tolerated it because of our friendship. But living on his doorstep is something else. I can’t take that.”
“Your trust is overwhelming,” she ground out.
“It isn’t a question of trust,” he said, and he sounded bone tired. “I thought we had something more permanent going for us than a casual night together. But you quite obviously don’t share that opinion. You know what my cousin is, and how he feels about you. If you’re willing to live this close to him, you must share those feelings. I’ve tried not to believe it, but it’s too obvious now to ignore.”
“I don’t have buried desires for Donald!” she threw back.
“Prove it,” he challenged. “Move in with me.”
She lifted her head proudly. “No.”
“And that says it all, doesn’t it?” His eyes glittered at her, smoldering with anger barely held in check. “You’ve chosen him over me.”
“That’s not true!” she cried, standing up. “John, it isn’t that kind of arrangement. I’m not sleeping with him, I’m not!”
His angry gaze went up and down her with a contempt that made her want to go through the floor. “You, and my cousin…” he grated venomously.
“Donald,” she corrected. “His name is Donald, why won’t you ever use it…?”
“Did I hear my name called?” Donald paused in the doorway, wearing a dressing gown over his pajamas; he had a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands, a wicked grin on his face. “Sorry I took so long, darling….”
John seemed to explode. His fist shot out and Donald went flying to land heavily in the middle of the carpet. The glasses crashed around him, followed by the thud of the champagne bottle which, miraculously, remained unbroken.
“Now, Cousin John, was that polite?” Donald groaned, rubbing his jaw.
John didn’t even answer him. His accusing gaze was on Madeline’s white, disbelieving face. There was a contempt in his face she’d never seen as his eyes made an insulting sweep of her body in the towel, then darted back to Donald. Without a word, he turned and went out the door.
Madeline clutched her towel, her eyes accusing as they lit on Donald.
“What possessed you?” she asked coldly, indicating the mess around him.
“I heard him asking Maisie where you were, and I thought it would be nice to make friendly overtures,” he said, grinning.
“Toward whom?” she countered.
“Don’t be cross, sweet, it was one of those impulses I get occasionally to needle old Cousin John.” He chuckled. “Did you see his face? Whew! I feel fortunate to have come away with only a few loosened teeth and a dislocated jaw.”
“Would you mind taking the remains of your vulgar impulse out of my room?” she asked quietly. She felt as numb as if she’d died.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We could still drink the champagne. Or, if you’d rather,” he added with a strange leer, “we could bathe in it together.”
She walked to the closet and pulled on a robe over her towel. “Good night, Donald.”
He picked up the champagne bottle with a sigh, his expression regretful. “I’ll have the mess cleaned up in the morning. Mind the glass. Good night.”
But she didn’t reply. When he was gone, she climbed into bed in her robe and lay there with hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Why hadn’t she realized when she gave in to John that night that it would ruin what they’d had?
No more lazy days riding
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