Tears of the Renegade by Linda Howard Page A

what he was doing now?
    Cord. Somehow all her thoughts these days returned to him, as if he had become the center of her world. She hadn’t wanted him to, but since the moment he’d walked in from the night, he had eclipsed everyone else in her every waking thought, in her dreams, had invaded even her memory, so that she constantly had the taste of his mouth on her tongue, felt the hard warmth of his hands on her flesh. I could love him! she thought wildly, and shuddered in half fear, half excitement. Loving him would be the most dangerous thing she’dever done in her life, yet she felt helpless to deny the effect he had on her. If it wasn’t love yet, it had nevertheless gone beyond mere desire, and she was teetering on the edge of an emotional chasm. If she fell into it, she’d be forever lost.
    The emotional strain that she was under was visible on her face the next morning when she walked into the office, later than usual for her because she’d spent a restless night, then overslept when she finally did manage to fall asleep. Because she felt so frazzled, she’d attempted to disguise her emotional state by hiding behind an image that was sterner than the one she usually projected. She’d pulled her soft dark hair back into a tight knot and applied makeup carefully, hoping to divert attention from the lost expression in her eyes. The dress she had chosen was sleekly sophisticated, a black silk tunic with narrow white vertical stripes, cinched about her slender waist with a thin black belt. It wasn’t a dress that she wore often, because it had always seemed too stark for her, but today it suited her mood perfectly.
    She told Beryl good morning, then went straight through to her office and closed the door, hoping to submerge herself in the reports that she hadn’t finished the day before, because she’d been in such a hurry to see Cord. A wasted effort, she thought with a painful catch in her breath. Resolutely she pushed away the thought of her failure and picked up the first report, only to replace it when someone knocked firmly on her door.
    Without waiting for an answer, Preston let himself in and sauntered over to ease himself into the chair opposite her desk. He sprawled in it and pressed his fingers together to form a steeple, over which he peered with blue eyes alive with curiosity. “What did you say to Mother?” he asked with relish. “I haven’t seen her so angry in years.”
    Susan caught the grin that twitched at his mouth, and against her will she found herself smiling at him. Preston had a little bit of the devil in him at times, a puckish sense ofhumor that he seldom allowed to surface. Whenever he did, it made his eyes sparkle in a manner that reminded her strongly of Vance. Now was one of those times. Despite the pressure he was under, he was being eaten alive with curiosity, wondering what Susan could possibly have said to his mother to put her in such a snit.
    She wasn’t certain just how much to tell him, if anything. She decided to stall. “Did Imogene tell you that Cord turned down my offer of the ridges?”
    He nodded. “I’m glad, too. I know it would’ve been the easy way, but I don’t want you to pay for something that was our fault. You know that.” He gave a graceful shrug. “Mother didn’t agree; she thought that it would be worth it if we stopped any trouble before it began.”
    Yes, head off scandal, at any cost. Deciding to tell him the truth in the hope that he would support her, she took a deep breath and braced herself. “She wanted me to see Cord—play up to him—and try to find out what he was planning so you could counteract it. I refused.”
    Preston’s eyes had widened, then narrowed as he realized the scope of her simplified explanation. He swore softly. “Thank God for that! I don’t want you around him. Mother shouldn’t have suggested anything