shoulders and rose to reach for her half-dried clothes, spread around the large hearth. She turned her back on him lest he see the glaze of tears in her eyes.
Rafael also stood up. He felt like a heartless fool. He had never meant to make her feel cheap or to hurt her feelings. In fact, when he thought of the Creole girls he knew and compared them with Deborah, he wondered why any man would prefer them. Muttering to himself, “That's what a man has a mistress for,” he closed his mind and began to dress.
They rode back to the house in silence. The storm had ended and Rafael quickly found the cutoff that led them out of the woods.
Chapter Four
“You've avoided me ever since you-came home, pleading headaches and other vapors, young woman. I think it's time we had a talk.” Adam Manchester's eyes were piercing and his voice brooked no opposition.
Deborah sighed and followed him into the study, wondering how much of a confession he would be able to wring from her. Lord, all she wanted was to forget the entire sordid mistake! Sitting stiffly on the sofa, she nervously arranged her skirts. “What do you want me to say, Father? I came home early from the Beechers because I was not enjoying myself. I was tired and I can't abide Allison Smythe.”
“Am I to understand your return had nothing to do with Rafael Flamenco?” he asked as he leaned forward and willed her to meet his eyes.
Feeling the pressure of his insistent stare, Deborah forced herself to look him in the face. “If you must know, Rafael and I quarreled. Oh, Father, we've never agreed on anything. I finally realized just how impossible any relationship between us would be.”
“I thought you said you never intended to be serious about him—that he was merely a temporary escort until the gossip over your broken engagement quieted.” Adam's eyes were like skewers now, making her squirm like an insect on a board.
Deborah blanched. Observing the set of his jaw and the way his hands were clenched, she knew something was seriously wrong. “What have you heard? More gossip?”
“You tell me. I've always had complete faith in your levelheadedness. Until you met this damn Frenchman.” He stood up, looming over her, a tactic he had often found useful in intimidating business adversaries. He loved his only child and did not wish to threaten her, but he had to get this tangle straightened out. “Deborah, exactly what happened when you two were alone in that rainstorm?”
She propelled herself up quickly to stand facing her father. “I am not damaged goods, if that's what you fear. Rafael didn't take advantage of me—not the way you think.”
“What the hell does that mean? You're scarcely acting as if nothing happened.”
Shame coursed through her in sickening waves. How could she confess to her father that Rafael had controlled his passions far better than she had hers? That he had rejected her? “Let's just say we had a final confrontation and I will never see him again. I can't tell you any more, father. I have never lied to you and I'm not lying now, but what went on between Rafael and me is too private, too painful to discuss. Ever!” Her face was chalk white and her eyes were dark violet, brimming with tears as she turned and walked from the room.
* * * *
Rafael could hardly wait to board the Sea Mist. He would sail for New Orleans with the morning tide and it wouldn't be too soon! He strode along the wharf, watching ships from around the world unload their cargoes. For all the bustle and color surrounding him, Rafael was unimpressed. It was cold and gray, bleak as all New England. He was depressed despite the good news he had received this morning from Aunt Jolie' s attorney, who had advised him that the estate was finally settled. Everything was done,
Rafael also stood up. He felt like a heartless fool. He had never meant to make her feel cheap or to hurt her feelings. In fact, when he thought of the Creole girls he knew and compared them with Deborah, he wondered why any man would prefer them. Muttering to himself, “That's what a man has a mistress for,” he closed his mind and began to dress.
They rode back to the house in silence. The storm had ended and Rafael quickly found the cutoff that led them out of the woods.
Chapter Four
“You've avoided me ever since you-came home, pleading headaches and other vapors, young woman. I think it's time we had a talk.” Adam Manchester's eyes were piercing and his voice brooked no opposition.
Deborah sighed and followed him into the study, wondering how much of a confession he would be able to wring from her. Lord, all she wanted was to forget the entire sordid mistake! Sitting stiffly on the sofa, she nervously arranged her skirts. “What do you want me to say, Father? I came home early from the Beechers because I was not enjoying myself. I was tired and I can't abide Allison Smythe.”
“Am I to understand your return had nothing to do with Rafael Flamenco?” he asked as he leaned forward and willed her to meet his eyes.
Feeling the pressure of his insistent stare, Deborah forced herself to look him in the face. “If you must know, Rafael and I quarreled. Oh, Father, we've never agreed on anything. I finally realized just how impossible any relationship between us would be.”
“I thought you said you never intended to be serious about him—that he was merely a temporary escort until the gossip over your broken engagement quieted.” Adam's eyes were like skewers now, making her squirm like an insect on a board.
Deborah blanched. Observing the set of his jaw and the way his hands were clenched, she knew something was seriously wrong. “What have you heard? More gossip?”
“You tell me. I've always had complete faith in your levelheadedness. Until you met this damn Frenchman.” He stood up, looming over her, a tactic he had often found useful in intimidating business adversaries. He loved his only child and did not wish to threaten her, but he had to get this tangle straightened out. “Deborah, exactly what happened when you two were alone in that rainstorm?”
She propelled herself up quickly to stand facing her father. “I am not damaged goods, if that's what you fear. Rafael didn't take advantage of me—not the way you think.”
“What the hell does that mean? You're scarcely acting as if nothing happened.”
Shame coursed through her in sickening waves. How could she confess to her father that Rafael had controlled his passions far better than she had hers? That he had rejected her? “Let's just say we had a final confrontation and I will never see him again. I can't tell you any more, father. I have never lied to you and I'm not lying now, but what went on between Rafael and me is too private, too painful to discuss. Ever!” Her face was chalk white and her eyes were dark violet, brimming with tears as she turned and walked from the room.
* * * *
Rafael could hardly wait to board the Sea Mist. He would sail for New Orleans with the morning tide and it wouldn't be too soon! He strode along the wharf, watching ships from around the world unload their cargoes. For all the bustle and color surrounding him, Rafael was unimpressed. It was cold and gray, bleak as all New England. He was depressed despite the good news he had received this morning from Aunt Jolie' s attorney, who had advised him that the estate was finally settled. Everything was done,
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