Page 17 of Texas Honor

He stared at her. “My God, you are a fanatic, aren’t you?” he mused.

She smiled slowly. “How would you like marrying a woman and hearing all about her old lovers? Meeting them occasionally and wondering if you measured up? How would you like to have a pregnant wife and wonder if the baby was really yours? I mean, if she sleeps around before marriage, what’s to keep her from doing it afterward? If promiscuity is okay, isn’t adultery okay as well?”

Everything she was saying disturbed him. Caroline had slept around. Not only with him, but, as he’d later found out, with at least two of his business acquaintances. He frowned at the thought. Yes, he’d have wondered. And he’d only just realized it.

“But I’m just a prude,” she announced dryly. “So don’t mind me. I’ll grow into happy spinsterhood and die with the reputation that Elizabeth I had.”

“Unless you marry,” he said involuntarily.

She laughed ruefully. “Men don’t marry women they haven’t slept with. Not these days.” She turned back to the dishes, oblivious to the brief flash of pain that crossed the face of the man behind her. “I’m not into self-pity, but I do face facts,” she continued calmly. “I’m not pretty, I’m just passable. I’m too thin, and I don’t know how to flirt. And, as you yourself said, I’m a greenhorn when it comes to intimacy. All that adds up to happy spinsterhood.” She gazed thoughtfully out the window over the sink. “I’ll grow prize roses,” she mused aloud. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. And zinnias and crape myrtle and petunias and lantana and hibiscus.”

He wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at the back of her head. Her hair was very dark and sleek, and he wished she’d left it long, the way it was in the photograph he’d seen. She wasn’t a beauty, that was true. But she had a pretty good sense of humor, and she didn’t take herself or anyone else too seriously. She had guts and she told the truth. Damn her.

He didn’t like his attraction to her. He didn’t like how she could make him tremble all over like a boy when he started to kiss her. He didn’t want her knowing it, either. The whole point of this exercise was toexorcise. He had to get rid of this lunatic obsession he felt.

“I’m going,” he said shortly, shouldering himself away from the doorjamb. “I’ll be back by three-thirty to go to the hospital with you.”

“I’ll phone meanwhile,” she said.

“Do what you please.” He stormed off, leaving her curious and speechless. What an odd man. What a dangerous man.

She spent the rest of the day working herself into exhaustion so that she wouldn’t dwell on what had happened at breakfast.

WHENTHEYGOTto the hospital, Lillian was sitting on the side of her bed, dressed.

“It’s about time,” she began hotly. “Get me out of here! They’ve put on a cast and decided it was infected sinuses that made me fall. They’ve given me some tablets they say will lower my blood pressure, and if you don’t spring me, I’ll jump out a window!”

“With that?” Ward asked, nodding toward the heavy plaster walking cast on one of her legs.

“With that,” she assured him. “Tell him I’m serious about this, Mari,” she added.

Mari was trying not to laugh. “You look pretty serious.”

“I can see that. Where’s the doctor?”

“He’ll be here any minute,” Lillian began.

“I’ll go find him,” Ward returned, walking quickly out into the hall, moving lightly for a man his size.

“How’s it going?” Lillian asked, all eyes.

“How’s what going?” Mari asked with assumed innocence.

“You were alone all last night!” she hissed. “Did he try anything?”

Mari lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Well, he did try to call somebody on the phone, but he couldn’t get them.”

Lillian looked pained. “I mean, did he make a pass at you?”

“No,” Mari lied. It was only a white lie, just enough to throw the bloodhound off the scent.

The older woman looked miserable. It didn’t bode well that Ward was so irritable, either. Maybe her matched pair had been arguing. Lillian had to get out of here and do a little stage-managing before it was too late and her whole plan went down the tube!

Ward was back minutes later, looking as unapproachable as he had since he’d driven up to the house at three-thirty with a face like a thunderhead.

“I found him. He says you’re okay, no stroke,” he told Lillian. “You can leave. I’ve signed you out. Let’s go.”

“But we need a wheelchair...” Mari began.

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