The Return Of Chase Cordell. Linda Castle

choked back frustrated tears, refusing to let Effie see her cry, when he abruptly stood up from the table and stalked from the room without a word to either her, or Captain Cordell.

      Linese knew Chase Cordell had been known as a bold man around Mainfield, one with a short temper and quick fists, but he had never been regarded as a rude one, and she was not going to give the local gossips any cause to begin saying so now. So she bit her tongue and smiled while she chewed and swallowed, never tasting a thing she put in her mouth.

      

      Two hours later, the lamp illuminated Linese’s path up the stairs. Her temples throbbed and every muscle in her body cried out for rest. The chirping of crickets down in the hollow seemed deafening in comparison to the silence that hung in the walls of Cordellane. She put her foot on the stairs and wondered again what had gone wrong with Chase’s homecoming.

      “Linese?” His deep voice drifted down to her from the darkened landing above and startled her from her musings.

      “Yes?” She halted and peered up at him, half-concealed in the quivering shadows cast by her lantern. She had not realized he was standing above her, watching her approach. Her pulse quickened a bit at the notion that Chase had been upstairs waiting for her to come to bed. She caught herself smiling in the dim lighting.

      “Linese, I have decided… I’m going out for some air. I didn’t want you to feel you had to, that is, you shouldn’t wait up for me. I will be late.” His voice was hollow with meaning.

      The impact of Chase’s blunt words settled on Linese like a blanket of ice. He did not wish for her to wait up. In fact, in his own Texas gentleman’s way, he was telling her not to wait up. She had walked on eggshells around him all afternoon, wondering what was the matter.

      Now she knew. It was not some slip in her letters that revealed her surreptitious work at the Gazette that had him frowning at her in annoyance. It was not his grandfather’s ramblings, or the food she cooked.

      No. His dark and depressed mood had nothing to do with any of those things. Chase did not wish to share her bed, but did not know how to tell her. The dawning realization sent cold gooseflesh climbing along her arms.

      Linese fought to control the trembling of her hand lest she drop the lamp and let Chase know how much his rebuff wounded her. Bruised pride and feminine ego forced her to reply as if nothing were wrong.

      “Now that the subject has come up, Chase, if you would not be too inconvenienced, I would prefer to move my things into the adjoining room. You’ve been gone a long time. We both have a considerable adjustment to make.” She lied to cover her own hurt and humiliation at his rejection.

      The last thing she wanted was to force herself on him if he did not want to be with her. Better to cry alone in her own bed than feel unwanted in his, she told herself sternly.

      A wall of conflict rose up inside Chase while he listened to Linese’s steady voice. He watched her face in the glow of lamplight, searching for he knew not what.

      He should be relieved at her willingness to comply with his wishes, but his male pride was offended. No, not offended—hurt?

      Could he really be sorry?

      Sadness twined its way around his chest and threatened to squeeze the breath from his lungs. For some reason that defied logic, Chase wished things could be different between him and Linese. He longed to salvage a single memory of the love they must have shared, but found only the formless void of deprivation in his mind.

      “Is that arrangement acceptable to you, Chase?”

      Her voice jolted him back to the present. He had secretly hoped for a chance to get to know her, to find the answer to his own private hell within her arms.

      “What? Oh, yes. That would be perfectly acceptable. I don’t wish to impose myself upon you.”

      He said it but knew it was a lie. He wanted very much to touch another human being, to feel at home and at peace, but knew he never could as long as his past was a mystery and any mistake could reveal the truth to Linese.

      Chase slowly descended each step until he stood on the same tread with her. She forced herself to look up and meet his eyes, even though her heart was breaking with the effort. But, instead of the haughty, cold stare she expected to follow such stern words, his gray eyes were clouded with pain and a poignant expression of yearning.

      Confusion swirled in her mind and heart. How could he speak to her so and have such sorrow in his eyes? Linese instinctively reached out and laid her hand on his bare forearm to offer some comfort. Chase flinched beneath her light touch.

      He did not pull away, but he stared at her hand for a long moment as if it were the first time he had ever seen it. She wondered if the fading ink stains were noticeable in the muted, wavering light. To prevent him from seeing them, she lifted the lantern up, away from her hand, but it only made his face look more bleak and lonely. He reached out one slim finger and slowly traced along the smooth gold band he had put on her fourth finger himself. His eyes were so sad and empty, she felt a painful tightening of her chest while she watched him.

      “Sleep well, Linese.” There was longing in the flat tone of his voice. He leaned down and deposited one chaste kiss on her forehead, then he turned and limped down the stairs.

      She stood frozen on the spot and watched her husband disappear out the front door and into the humid Texas night.

       Chapter Three

      Linese sipped the hot chicory and watched Chase over the rim of her cup. She had listened to his uneven pacing long into the night, beyond the door that separated their rooms, after he returned from his walk. Whatever had denied him sleep still lingered this morning, if his creased brow and ravaged expression were any indication. Linese looked away from his stern face and tried to calm her tumultuous emotions.

      She wanted to ask him what was wrong, to offer some kind of solace to her husband. But she doubted he would welcome her comfort, since he had seen fit to exile her from his bed. She glanced back at Chase and found him looking at her with a questioning expression in his eyes.

      She wondered if he felt the same uncomfortable unfamil-iarity she experienced each time she stole a glance at him. Linese’s stomach lurched when she finally admitted to herself that two weeks was time enough to fall hopelessly in love, but not time enough to learn about the man who was her husband. In a strange and undefinable way, he had kept her at arm’s length during their frenzied courtship, almost as if he were shielding himself from her, or perhaps her from him. Now she wondered if maybe he had been hiding this dark, brooding side of his nature from her. She shook her head to banish the foolish notion, only to have it replaced by a new fear that popped into her head.

      Perhaps he was regretting his impulsiveness. Perhaps he now regretted proposing to a virtual stranger. Maybe the two years he had been at war had made him wonder if his choice for his wife had been unwise. That could account for his decision to sleep apart.

      The words that sent her into the adjoining bedroom continued to batter her pride, just as they had kept her from rest while she listened to his uneven journey across the wood floor all night long. Linese placed the cup of chicory into the saucer and acknowledged the painful truth. She was married to Chase, but the man sitting at the opposite end of the long polished table was no more than a stranger.

      A stern forbidding stranger, a voice inside her head reminded her.

      She had never been a quitter. And she would not give up on her marriage. Now was about as good a time as any to begin learning about the man she married.

      Did he prefer silence in the morning? Was he the kind of man who wished to start the day with activity, or did he ease into it slowly? He had ridden off the day after he brought her from her home, a county away, to Cordellane, and she had no idea about his likes or dislikes. If she