Sycamore Hill (27 page)

“Indeed?” he retorted mockingly. “Every night and against all
comers?”

I frowned at him, wondering what was making him so upset. I could
feel his anger crackling in the air.

“It’s been a very long day,” I said tremulously. “I’m tired.”

“Where have you been, damn you?”

If I thought of telling him to mind his own business, it passed so
quickly from my mind, I did not realize it. His tone made anything but the
truth a direct challenge. I did not know what he would do, and I did not want
to find out.

“I walked up to the sycamore grove.”

“You’ve been up on that hill for six hours?” he asked. He quite
obviously did not believe me. “Who have you been with?”

“I have not been with anyone. And what business is it of yours
anyway?” I cried, the bravado rising. I felt as cornered and desperate as any
animal in the woods stalked by a hunter.

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Jordan. “It’s damn cold
in here,” he observed in a quieter, more controlled voice. “Let’s go back to
your room and have our talk.”

“I would like to go back to my room. But not with you. And I’m not
in the mood to talk with you either!”

He took a couple of steps toward me and grasped my wrist. Pulling
me after him, he entered my room and shut the door behind us. Releasing me, he
leaned back against it, his arms crossed. The candlelight showed the hard,
uncompromising set of his face and the glitter of his blue eyes.

“Sit down, Miss McFarland!” he ordered in a cold voice. I sat. A
humorless smile tilted his mouth. “Now, was that so damned difficult?”

I was shaking, and efforts to stop it were to no avail.

“If you’re trying to frighten me, you’re doing an excellent job of
it,” I said, only afterward wondering at the wisdom of such an admission.

“You’re frightened? Miss McFarland, you don’t frighten easily
enough!” he told me. “Someone should take you in hand, Abby,” he said more
calmly now that he had gotten his way.

I did not try to argue with him. I sat in the chair by the table
staring at him fixedly. My expression seemed to bother him. Jordan frowned and
let out his breath. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m not going to hurt you,
for God’s sake!”

Too much had happened that day, and I was perilously close to
losing control and crying. I looked away from him and blinked rapidly. My
fingers twisted together in a knot on my lap, and I swallowed convulsively. I
am not going to cry in front of this dreadful man, I told myself fiercely.

“Diego is reinstated. He’ll be back in school Monday morning,”
Jordan said tiredly. He was rubbing the back of his neck as though it ached. He
did not look at me as my eyes swung back to him with that announcement.

“Oh!” My fingers loosened their death grip on each other. “But how
did you ever manage?”

“After you almost made a complete mess of the whole thing?” he
finished wryly. “Hayes is at the mercy of pressures himself. And you needn’t
worry about Katrina Lane. I don’t think he’ll be doing anything to her.”

“Oh, thank God,” I sighed in relief. “I was so afraid he was
serious about removing her as well as not allowing Diego to come back.”

“He was.”

“I just don’t understand that man!”

“Obviously not, or you would have handled the situation a damned
sight better than you did.” The irritation was back in his voice. He moved away
from the door. There was no place for him to sit except on my bed. Jordan
Bennett stepped away from that restlessly and began to finger my possessions.
He touched my brush and comb set lying on top of the old dresser. He picked up
a chipped cup and set it back on the shelf, glancing over the cabinet with its
meager boasting of supplies. Then he picked up a book and read the title.

“You go in for heavy reading,” he commented, opening the new
volume of Greek plays Bradford Dobson had sent.

“How did you get Reverend Hayes to reinstate Diego?” I asked
curiously.

“I have my methods of dealing with people like him,” Jordan said
in a cool voice. He was reading the inscription Bradford Dobson had written on
the inside cover: “‘With much admiration and wishes that this will supply you
with hours of cathartic enjoyment. Your servant always, Bradford Dobson.’”
Jordan was frowning. “Who’s Bradford Dobson?”

“He was solicitor to my late guardians.”

“Young or old?”

“What possible difference could that make to you?” I asked in
confusion.

“None.” He snapped the book shut and dropped it on the bed.

“I liked Mr. Dobson very much. He was very kind. In fact, he was
the one who helped me find this position.”

“You call that kind?” Jordan gave a harsh laugh.

“I had to find some way to make a living.”

Jordan looked at me. “Why didn’t you just marry some poor fool?
That’s what most women do, isn’t it?”

“I can’t speak for most women, Mr. Bennett, but for myself, I
could not marry just to have a roof over my head or food on the table.”

“There are men who could supply you with more than just room and
board,” he commented idly. “You could have beautiful clothes, jewelry, whatever
you wanted... under certain circumstances.”

“And for what price?” I asked dryly, thinking about the loss of
self-respect. Then I wondered what I would say if Jordan Bennett were to
propose such a marriage arrangement to me. But, of course, he was speaking
generally, not specifically. It’s always easy to be objective when your own
emotions aren’t involved.

“You know very well at what price, Abby. You aren’t that naive.”
He looked at me with such an intimate scrutiny that I could scarcely
misunderstand his meaning. I wondered if he was deliberately trying to
embarrass me. If he was, I was not going to give him the satisfaction of
knowing he had indeed succeeded. I was stonily silent and kept my expression
blank.

“Well?” he drawled. “What would you say to such a proposal, if any
man were tempted to offer you one, that is?” He made the possibility seem very
remote and made me feel like the least attractive woman in the world.

“A woman who accepted such a proposal would be little more than a
prostitute,” I answered in a flat tone of indifference.

He raised his brows derisively. “Harsh judgment for the majority
of womankind.”

“You’re very cynical. Could it have anything to do with your own
personal experience?” My question was rhetorical, but I could hardly believe I
had mouthed it at all. I prepared myself for a storm.

Jordan Bennett’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How very incautious you
can be,” he said in a low voice, a tilt to his mouth. “But you are right. My
wife was little more than a whore, but what she lacked in genuine emotion, she
well made up for in skill.”

A pain started in the pit of my stomach and spread through my
system at the thought of Jordan with his wife. I kept my face bland. He watched
me closely, almost as though he was assessing the effect of his words.

I stood up. “You’ve told me about Diego. Thank you.”

He smiled sardonically. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s very late,” I said with a lift of my brows. I looked
pointedly toward the back door.

Jordan grinned. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Quite frankly, yes!” I answered bluntly. “Now please leave. You
know the rules.”

“The rules be damned. You don’t care about them, and neither do
I,” he dismissed my reason.

“I do care! I don’t want to lose my position here.”

“You enjoy being alone so much?” His smile was taunting.

“Have you said all you intended to say, Mr. Bennett?” I fumed. “If
you have, please leave my room!”

Jordan rubbed the back of his neck again and cast me a disgruntled
look. “Believe it or not, I came to thank you for the time you’ve spent with
Diego. If you hadn’t stayed out half the night, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be
back at the ranch and in bed instead of standing here arguing with you!”

“You could have let the news wait until tomorrow,” I snapped back.
“You knew that I would be riding out for Diego’s regular lessons.”

“I thought I’d save you the ride,” he retaliated with some
sarcasm, “I never wanted you on my ranch in the first place, if you’ll
remember.”

A lump of pain caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. “Yes, I
remember.” I paused and ran my fingers nervously over the table, keeping my
eyes averted from his. “And I’m sorry.”

“There are a couple of other things I wanted to say before I
leave.” If anything, his voice sounded harder than before. I wanted to tell him
to please say them quickly and make his departure, but thought it best to say
nothing at all. He had paused for an instant as though expecting some comment,
and when none came, he shifted his weight.

“Can we sit down and talk like civilized people?” he asked in a
tone hardly conducive to peace making.

“We can try.” I smiled faintly. I sat down at the table again.
Then I looked up at him. He was watching me with an enigmatic expression. Then
he glanced around for another chair. Seeing none, he sat on my bed. He leaned
forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

“First off, I wanted to tell you to deal very carefully with
Hayes. He’s an... intense person and not very predictable.”

“I could say that about other people in the community,” I said
with wry humor.

He glanced up and gave me a rueful smile. “You fit that
description yourself, Miss McFarland,” he said dryly.

“I didn’t have myself in mind.”

“And another thing,” he said briskly, looking directly into my
eyes with unnerving intensity. “I’m not sure Diego will show up on Monday.”

“You plan to keep him home at the ranch?” I asked in surprise, my
fingers splaying out on the tabletop.

“No, I am not planning to keep him at the ranch,” he said. “You’re
jumping to all the wrong conclusions again.”

“Then why?”

“Because he was hurt by all this mess... damned hurt. He may not
agree to come back to school. I’d think you would understand why he wouldn’t be
particularly crazy about the idea of returning for more of the same medicine.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“The mess was brought on by adult interference,” I told him. “And
since you’ve taken care of that part of it, Diego will only have to contend
with the children. One, actually— Matthew Hayes. And believe me, Mr. Bennett,
that boy is more than willing to come halfway. He’s learned his lesson.”

Jordan shook his head slightly. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Diego has more courage than you give him credit,” I said rather
primly.

Jordan smiled. “You think I’m maligning my own son, is that it?”

“No. I think you’re being overprotective.”

Jordan laughed. “Not too long ago you were saying I did not
protect him enough.”

“Yes.” I nodded, watching the change in his appearance. He was
magnetic when he laughed. He heightened all my senses.

“The boy needed time to lick his wounds,” Jordan explained. “And
Matthew Hayes needed time to learn a few things as well. Maybe the two of them
can sort things out between them. That would be the ideal solution.”

“I agree.”

Then came a momentary silence before Jordan muttered under his
breath. “My God.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You agreed with me.” He grinned.

I smiled, genuinely amused. “A precedent!”

Jordan’s grin softened. I wanted to look away from him, afraid he
would see more in my eyes than I was willing to have him see. He suddenly
seemed too close to me, the room too small and intimate for his dominating
presence. His eyes were charting courses over my face, lingering too long on my
mouth. My lips parted slightly as my breath seemed to lodge in my chest, unable
to pass the thundering of my heart.

Jordan stood up as though he could not stand to be still any
longer. He looked away from me toward the door. A muscle worked in his jaw.
“I’d better be going,” he said unnecessarily. That he wanted to leave quickly
was obvious, and strangely enough, it hurt.

I stood up as well, smiling with an effort. “I’m glad you came to
talk with me,” I said sincerely. Jordan looked at me then.

“I’m not sure I am,” he said. Embarrassed color flooded into my
face.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, and I won’t detain you any longer.
Please tell Diego I will look forward to seeing him on Monday.”

Jordan stepped by me and put his hand on the door, but did not
open it. He seemed to be debating with himself. I couldn’t stand it.

“So, what are you waiting for?” I demanded, stepping forward, my
hands balling into fists. “Why don’t you leave?”

He looked down at me, and the expression in his eyes drove me
further into my anger. I reached out, shoving his hand aside and grasping at
the doorknob to pull it open. “Here, let me help you, Mr. Bennett!” I twisted
the handle and pulled, but Jordan’s hand came up to hold the door shut.