Tidewater Seduction Part 10

He was away a month, and, although she spoke to him frequently on the telephone, by the time he came back, things had changed.

Joanna supposed she had been partly responsible for that change, but how could she have known what her innocent befriending of Nathan Smith would stir up? At the time, she had just been des- perate for some stimulating adult conversation.

She sighed. Perhaps she had been naive, she pon dered. It wasn't as if all the Macallisters had been hostile. Ben and Joe had been quite friendly, so long as their father wasn't around; and the twins, especially Charley, had developed quite a crush on their new sister-in-law. And there was Sandy-though he had been too young to really Count.

But, perhaps because she was becoming so sensitive to any criticism levelled at her, Joanna never felt entirely relaxed around the house. She had done very little sketching or painting since she left England, so now, once again, she endeavoured to submerge her unhap piness in her work. There was certainly plenty of scope for an artist among the vivid varieties of trees and shrubs about the plantation, and she took to taking her sketch book with her every time she went for a walk.

Although she never ventured too far from the house, she became familiar with the stables, and the paddocks, and the salt marshes beyond. She often curled up beside the river, lulled by the gentle music of the water, or scrambled over the mud-flats at low tide, in search of sh.e.l.ls. Although her olive skin never tanned, it grew sun warmed and healthy, and her hair grew long and wind tossed, accentuating her gypsy appearance.

And, during this time, it never occurred to her not to be familiar with the workers on the plantation. The grooms around the stables, the hands who exercised the horses, even the maids in the house, all benefited from her friendly disposition. She didn't think it had been a conscious effort to oppose Cole's father and mother. It was just her way. But she never, ever dreamed where her att.i.tude might lead her.

Nathan didn't work on the plantation. Although she didn't know that the morning she surprised him on the river-bank. He had been leaning out over the river, trailing his hand in the water, and at that time it was doubtful which of them had been the most shocked by the encounter.

But when he jumped to his feet, with the evident in tention of leaving, Joanna had stopped him. 'What were you doing?' she asked, tucking her sketch pad under her arm, and stepping across the gra.s.sy bank towards him. She looked down into the water, but could see nothing of value. 'Did you drop something?'

Nathan shook his head. He was a handsome young man, with dark curly hair, brown skin, and the broad nose and full mouth that spoke of a mixed heritage. Joanna a.s.sumed he lived in the shacks that bordered the estate to the west. Many of the workers lived in the shacks at Palmer's Point, and Cole had said that he and his father were planning on re-housing the families.

However, after listening to Ryan Macallister's views on his poorer employees, and learning of his contempt for people who had more children than they could afford, Joanna was less convinced. She had the feeling that, whatever Cole said, his father was not as committed as his son.

'So what were you doing?' she asked now, and although the young man would have obviously pre ferred to avoid answering he stood his ground. 'Tickling fish,' he said, his lean features taking on a rueful expression. 'I wasn't taking many. Only one or two.'

Joanna shook her head. 'You mean-you can ac tually catch fish that way?' she exclaimed. Then she saw the brace of trout resting on a broad palmetto leaf, and smiled. 'I see you can.'

Nathan expelled his breath on a long sigh. 'You must be Cole's wife,' he said, and she wondered why he looked so rueful when he said it. She didn't flatter herself that she was the reason for his discontent. But his tone was Intriguing, and she determined to get to the bottom of .

So, 'Yes,' she agreed, holding out her hand towards him. 'I'm Joanna Macallister. Who're you?'

His hesitation was only noticeable because she was aware of it.

'Nathan,' he said, after a moment.

'Nathan-Smith.' He shook her hand with some reluc tance, and she wondered why. 'But 1 wish you wouldn't tell anyone you'd seen me here.'

Joanna frowned. 'Because of the fish?' she ex claimed. 'Oh, I'm sure-'

'Because 1 shouldn't be on the property,' Nathan cut in swiftly. 'I know it's asking a lot, but I'd appreciate it.'

Joanna blinked. 'You don't work for my husband or his father, then?'

'No.'

'But you know them. You knew 1 was Cole's wife.'

'Everyone knows that,' replied Nathan drily. Then, with a rueful glance about him, 'I think I'd better go.'

Joanna caught her lip between her teeth. 'Not on my account,'

she protested. 'I won't tell anyone you were here.' She grimaced, remembering. 'There's no one to tell. Cole's away and I'm not exactly on the best of terms with his mother and father.'

Nathan hesitated. 'Look, you don't know me. You don't know anything about me.' He pulled a wry face. 'I could be a murderer or a rapist, for all you know.'

Joanna regarded him consideringly. 'You have an honest face,'

she said, and then, seeing the faint smile that tilted the corners of his mouth, she added, 'I'm pre pared to take the risk, if you are.

Why don't you show me what you were doing? Perhaps 1 could learn to catch fish, too.'

And that was how she and Nathan had become friends, she brooded painfully. A chance meeting, and suddenly she was embroiled in a situation she hadn't even known existed. Would Nathan still be alive, if she hadn't per suaded him to stay? It was entirely possible. But Nathan's life had always been in jeopardy, long before she came on the scene.

Still, in the months that followed, they did become close friends.

He was interested in her painting, and en couraged her not to neglect her talent. And she found his knowledge of the area's history both informative and fascinating, and she was not at all surprised to learn that he taught at the Baptist school in Beaurnarls.

But, these superficial facts aside, she learned very little about his personal life. He told her he was unmarried and lived with his widowed mother in Beaumaris, but that was all. He wouldn't talk about the Macallisters, or why a feud should exist between them.

He spoke of Cole, and Joe, and Ben, but they were not friends of his. If he had any friends, she never heard about them, and because she was lonely, too, she accepted his iso lation quite gratefully.

At this time, her relationship with Cole was deterior ating rapidly.

She didn't know why, but since his return from Argentina her husband had become increasingly remote. She knew he resented the fact that she had started sketching again, but it was more than that. And whenever she broached the subject of moving into a home of their own his only answer was that the plantation house was big enough for all of them.

It was certainly big enough for him to continue sleeping in a separate bedroom, she reflected bitterly, remem bering the arguments they had about that. Cole's only excuse was that as he got up early in the morning and went to bed much later than she did at night he didn't want to disturb her. But Joanna guessed it was his mother's and father's idea. Another way to keep them apart.

A continuing source of conflict was Joanna's failure to conceive.

Cole might occupy a different room, but he still came to her bed several times a week. She suspected it was a weakness he wished he could conquer, and be cause he could be so mean to her at other times she sometimes fought against his possession. But he always overcame her efforts. The feverish mating of their bodies had lost none of its fervour; it was totally obsessive to both of them, and even Cole couldn't deny the hunger in his blood.

Nevertheless, as the months went by and she didn't get pregnant, Cole became suspicious. Obviously his doubts had been fuelled by the things his parents im plied, and she found him one day searching her bedside drawers for contraceptives. Her anger at finding him there was overwhelming, and more than erased any ad vantage she might have gained because his search had proved unsuccessful. But his parting comment, that she probably hid them somewhere else, was the final straw. That night, she locked her door against him, refusing to answer when he hammered on the panels. She even locked the balcony doors and closed the shutters, pre ferring the airless atmosphere to the shameful demands of her flesh.

Looking back now, she saw how foolishly she had played into Ryan Macallister's hands. Cole was a proud man. He wouldn't beg her to unlock her door. What had begun as an angry revolt against his lack of faith in her quickly accelerated into a full-blown separation. In a matter of days, she and Cole were acting like strangers around one another. And, before she could pluck up the courage to speak to him, something happened that altered her mind irrevocably.

The past few months might not have been the most happy time in her life, but she had always believed that, because she and Cole still had such a good s.e.xual re lationship, sooner or later their problems would be re solved. If she hadn't believed that, she couldn't have continued in the marriage. But Cole still loved her; she was sure of it. And, in time, he would see it her way.

She had been given the use of an old station wagon, mainly, she suspected, because it enabled her to take the younger children to school, when no one else was available. But it did give her a certain amount of freedom, and she and Charley often went into Beaumaris at weekends, to potter about the small stores, and watch the fishing boats coming and going from the harbour. Of all the Macallisters, apart from Cole, she liked Charley best. The little girl had become her shadow since the incident in the spring, when Joanna had played such a crucial part in rescuing her from the island in the river, where they had been picnicking. Their row-boat had come adrift, and Joanna had had to swim to the sh.o.r.e to get help. It had been a near thing, and for a while after wards she and Cole seemed to get close again. But subsequent events, particularly the incident over the contraceptives, had destroyed their understanding, and when Joanna drove into Beaumaris that Sat.u.r.day morning she was still mulling over ways to make amends.

And then she saw Cole.

He was parked in the centre of town, right where she usually parked, leaning against the bonnet of the dust smeared pick-up he invariably drove, laughing with a blonde in a hot pink jump-suit.

Joanna had thought he was exercising the horses with Ben. He had gone out earlier that morning, and that was what his mother had told her, when she had asked where he was. But it was obvious from his dress shirt and well cut trousers that he had never had any intention of going riding.

'h.e.l.l!'

Charley's unguarded exclamation echoed the reaction Joanna was feeling. The girl was flirting with Cole now, finger-walking up his shirt, and arching her body to wards him. There was a wealth of confidence and in timacy in her att.i.tude, and Joanna's stomach hollowed at the obvious explanation.

But Charley's behavior could at least provide her with half an answer. 'Who is she?' she asked stiffly, and Charley stifled a groan.

'Sammy-Jean Butler,' she muttered reluctantly, pursing up her face. 'd.a.m.n, what's he doing with her?'

Trying not to sound as sick as she felt, Joanna tried to make light of it. 'Who knows?' she said, stepping on the brakes, and turning the station wagon into a spot several yards from where her husband was standing. 'It looks as if they just ran into one another.' She wet her lips. 'Is she an old girlfriend?'

Charley hunched her shoulders. 'I guess.'

'Well, is she, or isn't she?'

Charley sniffed. 'Ma and Pa wanted Cole to marry her one time,'

she admitted. 'See, the Butlers' place is next to Tidewater, and Pa and Mr. Butler used to talk about how good it would be if Cole and Sammy-Jean .. .'

Joanna remembered how hard it had been for her to get out of the station wagon after that, to go and speak to her husband.

And, when she found the pick-up wasn't there any more, she didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. But it served a bitter purpose. She knew she would never trust Cole again.

CHAPTER TEN.

CHARLEY came to find Joanna as soon as she got home from school her knock at the bedroom door was remi niscent of other occasions, when the girl had spent more time with her sister-in-law than she did with the other members of her family.

But in those days Joanna had sought comfort from her. Now, it was Charley who needed commiseration.

'Donna's a b.i.t.c.h!' she declared, after Joanna had let her into the bedroom and resumed drying her hair in front of the mirror.

'Twins are supposed to support one another, aren't they?' Her jaw jutted. 'She just enjoys causing me aggravation!'

Joanna turned off the drier, and regarded her visitor with sympathetic eyes. 'Cool down,' she said. 'It's too hot to get so riled up over anything. What did Donna do, for heaven's sake?

Steal your boyfriend?'

'Worse than that!' exclaimed Charley, flinging herself down on the end of the bed, and staring broodingly at the carpet. 'She's just gone and told Ma that Billy and me are going steady.'

'Oh.' Joanna wrapped the silk dressing-gown she had slipped on after her shower closer about her slim figure. 'I see.'

'Is that all you can say?' cried Charley, her eyes wide and indignant. 'Ma's grounded me for the next month, and she says if I try to see Billy again she'll get Pa to throw him out of Palmer's Point.'

Joanna's mouth tightened. Ryan Macallister was good at that, she thought contemptuously. He was good at destroying people's lives. Look what he'd done to Sarah!

'Did you talk with Cole yet?' Charley was asking now, and Joanna put her own grievances aside to answer the girl.

She shook her head. 'Charley, 1 only arrived yesterday.'

'Did you talk to Pa, then? Did he tell you why he wanted to see you?'

'I've spoken to him, yes.'

'And?'

Joanna sighed. 'Charley, I'd rather not talk about that right now.'

She paused, and then added, 'Look, I will tell Cole what's happened. But 1 can't make any promises.'

Charley pushed herself up from the bed. 'You won't need to tell Cole,' she muttered. 'Leave it to Ma to do that. 1 just hoped you'd had a chance to talk with him before it all came out. d.a.m.n, what am I going to do? I love Billy. I can't give him up.'

Joanna moved to put her arm around the girl. 'Don't lose heart,'

she said. And then, because she understood only too well how Charley was feeling, she went on, 'As I say, 1 can't promise anything, but there might be some thing 1 can do. Leave it with me. And don't you do any thing stupid.'

'I won't.' Charley gazed at her hopefully. 'I saw the way Cole was looking at you last night. He's still stuck on you, isn't he? Gee, no wonder Sammy-Jean never stood a chance.'

'What do you mean?'

Joanna knew she shouldn't have asked the question, but she simply couldn't help it, and Charley smirked. 'Come on,' she said.

'I heard Ben telling you, things haven't been the same around here since you walked out.'

'Oh.' Joanna wondered why she suddenly felt so de flated. 'Well, as 1 say, I'll do what 1 can about you and Billy. Now, I think you'd better go. I've got to get ready for dinner.'

Tonight, Joanna decided to wear loose-fitting silk cut offs that allowed the air to flow freely around her legs. They were tan, and combined attractively with the cream and gold box jacket she chose to wear with them. The jacket had a high neck, with an upstanding Chinese collar, and because of its brevity it occasionally exposed an inch of olive skin around her midriff.

Her earrings were gold again, beaten squares of metal that accen tuated the slenderness of her neck. And she swept her hair up into a loose knot, allowing several strands of midnight silk to droop beside her ears.

To her surprise, the library was empty when she went down. Of course, she was a little earlier than the night before, and it was possible she was the only person dining at home. Apart from Cole's father, of course, but there was no guarantee that he would join her. In any event, Joanna decided to help herself to a drink. She'd had nothing but tap water since lunchtime, and she felt she needed some stimulant to get her through the evening ahead. Even if she had to spend it alone, she consoled herself grimly. There was something about this place that always put her nerves on edge.

The drinks cabinet had been replenished, after the night before, and her hand hovered over the whiskey for a moment, before moving on to the wine. Better she keep her wits about her, just in case, she thought drily. No one was going to accuse her of over-imbibing these days.

She was raising the gla.s.s of wine to her lips when she realised she was no longer alone. While she had been concentrating on not spilling any of the wine over the polished surface of the cabinet, Cole had come to stand in the doorway. With his shoulder propped against the jamb, he was watching her actions with narrowed eyes, and when Joanna became aware of him she felt a mo ment's regret.

He looked so attractive standing there, his hair damp and still clinging to his head after his shower. The water had darkened its silvery-blond strands, casting an arti ficial shadow across his face, and, in spite of the fact that he had shaved, a glistening of bristle layover his jaw line. He was wearing navy trousers and a roll-necked cotton sweater in a lighter shade of blue. The heat never seemed to bother him, Joanna reflected, but of course he was used to it. And then, part of the heat she was feeling was self-induced, brought on by the unwilling memory of her thoughts that afternoon.

'All alone?' she enquired, going on the old adage that it was easier to attack than defend. 'Can I get you a drink?' She held up her gla.s.s. 'The wine's very good. I can recommend it.'

Cole said nothing, but he straightened from his lounging position and came across the room towards her. However, although her skin p.r.i.c.kled, and all her pulses set up a wild tattoo, he didn't touch her. Instead, he lifted the bourbon bottle and poured himself a generous measure over ice, swallowing a mouthful before ac knowledging her comments.

He smelt good, too, she noticed, the scent of the soap he had been using drifting to her nostrils. She could even smell the heat of his skin, clean, and faintly musky, and incredibly masculine.

G.o.d! She brought herself up there, forcing herself to remember where she was. As the realisation of what she was thinking-and what it was doing to her-swept over her in mindless waves, she saw the yawning pit she was digging for herself. He was her ex-husband, for pity's sake! Not someone of critical importance in her life. And she had come to know his scent as well as her own, so big deal! She could live with that. She took a breath.

She had to.

'We'll be dining alone,' he said, as she struggled to a.s.sume a casual demeanor, and she wondered whose idea that was. Not his mother's, she was sure. Maggie would never condone such a suggestion.

'I see,' she murmured, her brows arching inquisi tively, and, as if sensing a sarcasm she was far from feeling, Cole went on, 'Yes.' He paused. 'Ma, Sandy and the twins are having supper at Joe's. And -- Ben has a date this evening.'