Nora. Diana Palmer

bit her lower lip. “It frightens me.”

      Helen touched her shoulder gently. “You had a bad time of it. But you will be fine here. Do go with Melly and enjoy yourself. It will be all right, my dear, truly it will. Why, doctors are often wrong. You must always keep hope. It is God who decides our fate, not the medical profession. Not always, at least.”

      “I should have remembered that. Very well,” she said after a minute, and smiled. “I suppose there are worse things than insects,” she added solemnly as she walked out of the room.

      Chapter Three

      MELLY HADN’T MENTIONED that the picnic was going to involve other people. It was a church picnic. And it wasn’t going to be on a river near the house; it was going to be beside a small stream. When Nora heard that, she relaxed noticeably.

      Aunt Helen laughed when Melly reminded her that it was the church picnic.

      “Oh, how could I have forgotten!” Helen said with a rueful glance at Nora. “My mind is not on the present. I do beg your pardon, Nora, I misled you. I know that you shall enjoy this gathering. There are several eligible and well-to-do young men among the congregation.”

      “Including Mr. Langhorn,” Melly added with a strange expression on her face. “He and his son, Bruce, will probably accompany us, since it is Saturday, but perhaps he will be less…antagonistic than usual. And with luck, Bruce will behave better than he normally does.”

      Nora wondered a lot about her cousin’s peculiar way of referring to Mr. Langhorn. She hoped that Melly would confide in her one day.

      After Helen left to talk to the cook, the two women went outside to sit on the porch. Nora tidied the bow under her jaunty sailor collar. “Will any of the men from the ranch be going?” she asked hesitantly.

      Melly grinned. “Not Mr. Barton, if that’s what you meant. He goes to Beaumont this afternoon.”

      “Oh. Oh, I see.” She colored a little and lifted disappointed eyes. “Does he have family there?”

      “No one knows. He never speaks of the visits except in a desultory way. He is very mysterious, our Mr. Barton.”

      “Yes, so I see.”

      Melly noticed Nora’s distraction and touched her arm gently. “Mama is so old-fashioned. Do not let her interfere too much. Mr. Barton is a fine man, Nora. Social status is not everything.”

      “Alas, Melly,” her cousin said heavily, “for me it is. My mother is exactly like yours. None of my family would countenance Mr. Barton as a suitor for me.” She gnawed her lower lip. “Oh, why must I be so conventional? I feel like a sheep, following the herd. But it is so hard to break away from the past, to stand up to social absolutes.”

      “If you love someone, that becomes imperative sometimes,” Melly said sadly.

      Nora looked at her. “Does it? I cannot imagine a love strong enough to send me into battle with my peers.”

      Melly didn’t reply. There was a very faraway look in her eyes.

      NORA BROODED on her predicament for the rest of the day, and finally decided that she could say goodbye to Cal if she wanted to. There was nothing so unspeakable about that. She went looking for him late that afternoon when it was nearing sundown. He was in the barn with his saddlebags packed on his horse, a big bay gelding with a spirited look.

      “Is that your horse?” Nora asked from the door of the barn, which was deserted momentarily except for Cal.

      He glanced at her and smiled. “Yes. I call him King, because he reminds me of a man I know—one who’s just as impatient and every bit as unpleasant when he’s upset.” He didn’t add that the nickname originally belonged to his eldest brother.

      “He’s very…tall.”

      “So am I. I require a tall horse.” He finished his tasks with the horse and turned to move toward Nora. For once, he was cleaned up. He was freshly shaven and smelled of cologne and soap. His hair was clean, neatly parted. His clothes were like new, from his long-sleeved shirt to the neat cord trousers he wore with polished black boots. He looked very masculine, and the intensity of his gaze made her nervous. He paused just in front of her, admiring her trim figure behind the china blue bow that hung below the sailor collar of the white blouse. The bow matched her eyes.

      “Shall you be gone long?” she asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

      “Only over the weekend, perhaps for a day or so beyond, depending on the train schedules,” he said noncommittally. “Will you miss me?” he teased.

      She grimaced. “Sir, we hardly know each other.”

      “A situation which can quickly be remedied.” He bent suddenly, lifted her clear off the ground in his arms like a baby and carried her behind the open door of the barn, out of sight.

      Her mouth was open to protest this shocking treatment when his lips pressed softly over it, teasing the tender flesh until it admitted him. Behind her head, she felt the muscles cord in his arm as he brought her closer so that he could advance the kiss. Her breasts flattened softly over the hard muscles of his broad chest, and she felt her heart beating against them.

      Outside, she heard the wind rise, and the metallic sound of the windmill as its arms began to spin. There was a rumble up in the darkening clouds. But she was locked fast in Cal’s arms and floating blissfully in feelings she had never experienced. His mouth was warm and hard and insistent. She had no inclination to fight or protest. He must have known it, because he was gentle, almost tender with her. When he finally lifted his mouth, she was dazed, fascinated. Her wide blue eyes searched his in a silence broken only by the soft movements of the horse nearby.

      His silver-gray eyes glittered as they traced her mouth and then met her shocked eyes. “You’re very docile for an adventuress,” he whispered deeply. “Do you like lying in my arms?”

      She hadn’t realized that she was. He still had her clear of the floor. Her arms were around his neck, holding on, and she never wanted to move. It was a surprise to discover that it felt natural to let him kiss her.

      “You’re dazed, aren’t you?” he murmured with faint, tender amusement as he studied her face. “You flatter me.”

      “You must…put me down,” she faltered.

      He shook his head, very slowly. “Not until I’ve kissed you again.” His lips touched hers, teased, tempted. He nibbled on her lower lip and heard her gasp. “You taste of whipping cream,” he whispered, nudging at her upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “You make me hungry, Nora, for things no gentleman should admit to a lady….”

      His mouth crushed down over hers, opening it to the most intimate kiss she’d ever experienced in her life. She cried out and pushed at him, frightened not only by the intimacy of it, but by the sensations it made her feel.

      He lifted his head, laughing softly as he saw her eyes. “I thought you were sophisticated,” he chided.

      She colored. “Do put me down!” she murmured, struggling and flustered.

      He did, holding her until she righted herself and steadied. She pushed at her disheveled hairdo and moved jerkily away from him. He had never seemed taller, more menacing, than he did then.

      For himself, Cal was pleased with her reactions. She wasn’t so haughty now, and he liked very much seeing her at a disadvantage. It was going to be fun to bring the so-superior Miss Marlowe down to the level of an ordinary woman. She might even enjoy being human for a change.

      He touched her nose with the tip of his finger and laughed again as she looked worriedly around them.

      “No one saw us,” he said gently. “Our secret is safe.”

      She chewed on her lower lip and tasted him there. Her eyes sought his, full of unvoiced fears.

      “What shall