Cord was working on the old cabin at Jubilee Creek, replacing the roof and the sagging old porch, putting in new windows. Preston had tried to find out where Cord had borrowed the money to repair the cabin, and found instead, to his chagrin, that there was no loan involved. Cord was paying for everything in cash, and had opened a sizable checking account at the largest bank in Biloxi. Preston and Imogene spent hours speculating on how he had acquired the money, and what his purpose was in returning to Mississippi. Susan wondered why they found it so hard to accept that he had simply returned home. As people grew older, it wasn’t unusual for them to want to return to the area where they had grown up. It seemed silly to her that they attached such sinister motives to his smallest action, but then she realized that she was guilty of the same thing. She’d all but convinced herself that, if she had allowed him to drive her home that night, he would have taken her to bed over any protests she might have made…if any.
If any. That was the hard part for her to accept. Would she have made any protest, even a token one? What had happened to her? One moment her life had been as serene as a quiet pool on a lazy summer day, and she had been satisfied, except for the hollowness left by Vance’s death. Then Cord Blackstone had walked in out of the night and everything had shifted, the world had been thrown out of kilter. Now, suddenly, she wanted to run away, or at least smash something…do anything, anything at all, that was totally out of character.
And it was all because of Cord. He was a man who lived by his own rules, a man who lived recklessly and dangerously, but with a vital intensity that made every other man seem insipid when compared to him. By contrast, she was a field mouse who was comfortable only with security, yet now the very security that she had always treasured was chafing at her. The priorities that she had set for herself now seemed valueless in comparison with the wild freedom that Cord enjoyed.
She had been a quiet child, then a quiet girl, never according her parents any of the worries that most parents had concerning their children. Susan’s personality was serene, naturally kind and courteous, and the old-fashioned, genteel upbringing she’d had merely reinforced those qualities. By both nature and practice she was a lady, in every sense of the word.
Her life hadn’t been without pain or difficulty. Without resentment, she had left school to help care for her mother when a stroke left the older woman partially paralyzed. Another stroke later was fatal, and Susan quietly supported her father during his grief. Her father remarried within the year, with Susan’s blessing, and retired to south Florida; she remained in New Orleans, which had been her father’s last teaching post, and reorganized her life. She took a secretarial job and dated occasionally, but never seriously, until Vance Blackstone saw her gracing her desk at work and decided right then that she should be gracing his home. Vance hadn’t swept her off her feet; he had gently gained her confidence, gradually increasing the frequency of their dates until she was seeing no one but him; then he had proposed marriage by giving her one perfect rosebud with an exquisite diamond ring nestled in the heart of it.
Imogene hadn’t been thrilled that her son had selected his wife from outside the elite circle of their social group, but not even Imogene could really find fault with Susan. Susan was, as everyone phrased it, “a perfect lady.” She was accepted as Vance’s wife, and for three years she had been blessed with happiness. Vance was a considerate lover and husband, and he never let her forget that she was the most important thing in his life, far more important than the Blackstone empire and traditions. He demonstrated his faith in her by leaving everything to her in his will, including control of his share of the family businesses. Devastated by his sudden death, the terms of the will had meant nothing to Susan. Nothing was important to her without Vance.
But time passed, and time healed. Imogene and Preston, at first furious when they learned that she intended to oversee her share of the businesses instead of turning them over to Preston as they had expected, had gradually forgotten their anger as Susan handled herself well, both privately and publicly. She wasn’t a woman on an ego trip, nor was she prone to make irresponsible decisions. She had both feet firmly on the ground…or she had had, until another Blackstone had entered her life.
As the days passed, she told herself over and over how silly she was being. Why moon over a man who hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her since the night they had met? He had just been trying to irritate Preston by playing up to her, that was all. But as soon as that thought registered in her mind, a memory would surface, that of a hard, aroused male body pressing against her, and she knew that Cord hadn’t been playing.
She couldn’t get his face out of her mind. Odd that she hadn’t noticed the family resemblance, but for all the blue eyes and dark hair, nothing about Cord had seemed familiar to her. When she looked at Preston, she was always reminded strongly of Vance; Cord Blackstone resembled no one but himself, with his black brigand’s beard and wicked eyes. His personality overshadowed the similarities of coloring and facial structure.
Stop thinking about him! she told herself sternly one night as she dressed to attend a party with Preston. She had been looking at herself in the mirror, checking to see if her dress fit as it should, and had suddenly found herself wondering if Cord would like the dress, if he would find her attractive in it. With rare irritation, she whirled away from the mirror. She had to get him out of her mind! It had been almost three weeks since she’d met him, and it was obvious that she was in a tizzy over nothing, because in those three weeks he’d made no effort to see her again.
It was just as well; they were totally unsuited. She was a gentle spring shower; he was thunder and lightning. She had let a simple flirtation go to her head, and it was time she realized that there was nothing to it.
Glancing out a window at the gloomy sky, she reached into the closet for a coat. The capricious weather of the Gulf states had reminded everyone that it was still only March, despite the balmy weather they had been enjoying for most of the month. The temperature would be close to freezing before she came home, so she chose the warmest coat she owned, as well as wearing a long-sleeved dress.
Preston was always exactly on time, so Susan went down a few minutes early to chat with her cook and housekeeper, Emily Ferris. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes; why don’t you go home early today?” she suggested.
“I might at that.” Emily looked out the window, watching the wind whip the giant oak tree at the edge of the yard. “This is the kind of day that makes me want to wrap up in a blanket and sleep in front of a fire. Do you have a coat?” she asked sternly, looking at Susan’s slender form.
Susan laughed. “Yes, I have a coat.” Emily watched over her like a mother hen, but mothering came naturally to Emily, who had five children of her own. The youngest had left the nest a year ago, and since then, Susan had received the full intensity of Emily’s protection. She didn’t mind; Emily was as steady as a rock, and had been in Susan’s employ since she had married Vance. It was in Emily’s arms that Susan had wept her most violent tears after Vance’s death.
“I’ll leave the heat on, so the house won’t be cold when you come in,” Emily promised. “Where’re you going tonight?”
“To the Gages’. I believe William is planning to run for governor next year, and he’s lining up support and campaign contributors.”
“Hummph,” Emily snorted. “What does a Gage know about politics? Don’t tell me that Preston’s going to support him?”
Susan lifted one elegant eyebrow. “You know Preston; he’s very cautious. He’ll have to look at every candidate before he makes up his mind.” She knew from experience that every politician in the state would be burying the Blackstones under an avalanche of invitations. Susan had tried to stay out of politics, but Imogene and Preston were heavily courted, and Preston invariably asked her to accompany him whenever he attended a party with either political overtones or undertones.
She
