moved imperceptibly closer, so that she could almost feel the tips of her breasts under the taffeta brushing his suit coat. “I have a knowledge of women that would shock you,” he replied quietly. “And of a certainty, you would allow me to kiss you. In fact,” he said, breathing, letting his gaze wander to her trembling mouth, “you ache for it!”
She had never expected this kind of blatant cruelty from him. She should have known that it was inevitable. Like her father, he was adept at torture.
With a soft cry, she whirled away from him, hurting her wrist as she dragged it from the steely grip of his fingers. She made a path toward Ted, her expression more revealing than she knew in her shaken state.
“You poor thing,” Ted exclaimed when she reached him. “Here, I’m sorry it took so long.” He handed her the punch and watched solicitously as she held it with trembling hands to her mouth. Some spilled on her immaculate white gloves, and she knew that they would be stained. Stained, like her mind from King’s harsh words, his humiliating accusations. She finished the punch and looked around for Enid.
The older woman saw and recognized her desperation. With a puzzled frown she excused herself from her friends and went to see about Amelia.
“It is rather late,” Enid said gently. “Are you tired, Amelia? Would you like to leave?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Amelia said shakily. “I’m sorry, Ted, I’m having a wonderful time, really I am. I’m just very weary.”
“And unused to such late hours, I suspect,” Enid said with a smile, although her eyes were watchful. “I’ll find King and ask him to get the surrey. Will you stay with Amelia, Ted?”
“Of course!” he said at once, beaming at her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw King speaking to his mother. He shot a cold glance in her direction and abruptly turned on his heel and left the room.
“He isn’t pleased to be dragged away from Miss Valverde, I see,” Ted mused. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I should have offered to drive you and Enid home….”
“That’s all right,” she assured him. “After all, he can return if he wishes, can he not?”
“Certainly. Would you like some more punch?” She shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”
* * *
But she wasn’t. Her mind was whirling with new terrors. She didn’t want to go home with King. She didn’t want her father to return. She wanted to run away, fly away, escape, flee … !
“My dear, you look very strange,” Enid said, suddenly interrupting her thoughts. “Come along. We can wait for King on the porch. Perhaps the cool air will refresh you. Come with us, won’t you, Ted?”
“I’d be delighted, Mrs. Culhane. As I told Miss Howard, I should like very much to call on her when her father returns from his hunting trip.”
Enid stared at him warily. She knew of King’s antagonism for the man and her own husband’s distaste for him. On the other hand, she had no right to forbid Amelia to see anyone.
“I have told Mr. Simpson that it will have to wait until my father returns,” Amelia said quickly, sensing Enid’s discomfort. “My father is extremely strict about my callers.”
“I see. Then we must both adhere to her father’s wishes, Mr. Simpson,” Enid said with a pleasant smile. “I’m sure you understand that I am responsible for her welfare while her father is away.”
“I do understand,” Ted said with a slow smile.
Enid laughed. “Well, then.”
He escorted them onto the porch, where they talked idly until a disgruntled King returned with the surrey. Ted helped the women into the back of the conveyance after they had said their good-byes. King spoke not one word until they were back at the ranch house, having left Enid and Amelia to converse.
When he pulled the surrey up in front of the house, he shouted for one of his men. Amelia escaped out of the other side while he was assisting his mother to the ground. She was on the porch before he knew it.
“Go ahead, Amelia,” Enid told her. “I’ll be right along to unlock the door.”
“I’ll unlock it,” King said curtly.
He was beside Amelia in two long strides, but she abruptly moved back to where Enid was standing, avoiding any attempt at conversation with a panic that was almost tangible. She wouldn’t look at him, not even when he opened the door and stood holding it for the women.
Disregarding convention in her surge of fear, she dashed ahead of Enid into the house and, calling a muffled good night behind her, ran down the hall to her bedroom.
“My dear,” Enid said, turning to King, who was oddly pale and out of sorts. “Have you said something unpleasant to her?”
“Good night, Mother,” he said curtly.
He turned and went out, closing the door loudly behind him. He wandered out to the barn and supervised the cowboy who was unhitching the horse and bedding it down for the night. His presence was unnecessary, but he couldn’t face any more questions from his mother. He didn’t want to think about what he’d said to Amelia or remember the look on her face. Hurting her was indefensible. He hardly understood himself. He only knew that he’d never felt quite so low in his life.
* * *
Amelia was deliberately late getting up the next morning so that she wouldn’t have to see King. She didn’t escape Enid that easily, however. The older woman watched her with renewed interest, even while she carried on a casual conversation about the beautiful morning.
“What did King say to you last night, Amelia?” she asked abruptly.
The younger woman’s face flushed. She dropped her biscuit and had to scramble to get it back in her fingers. “He only emphasized his dislike of me,” she lied. It was impossible to tell his mother what had really been said. “I regret his hostility, but it isn’t unexpected, you know. Some people … simply can’t get along.”
Enid’s sharp eyes saw the telltale signs of sleeplessness. There had been more to it than that. She knew there had! Her gaze went to the slender arms in the long-sleeved blouse and held, shocked.
“Amelia, what has happened to your poor wrist?” she exclaimed at the bruise there.
The shocked gasp and attempt to hide the abrasion told her all she needed to know. “I saw the argument you had with my son and the way you moved away from him so suddenly. King did that, did he not?” Enid demanded hotly.
“I did what?” came a slow, rough voice from the doorway.
King lounged there in his working clothes, his chaps rustling as his long legs moved, bringing him into the room.
“Look at Amelia’s wrist,” Enid said shortly.
His expression changed. Amelia tried to hide it, but he went down on one knee beside her chair and captured her hand, gently but firmly turning her arm so that the deep
