Rebel Waltz by Kay Hooper Page A

here; there's always been the Hall for us.” Then she shrugged, and her voice lightened with a clear effort. “I suppose we'll buy a small place somewhere with a bit of land; neither of us could bear living in a city or even in an apartment. But that isn't your problem, Rory,” she finished firmly.
    “Isn't it?” He stared straight ahead, suddenly angry about the entire situation. He wanted the Hall, but not at the price of depriving Banner and Jake of a much-loved home; and knowingthat they had no choice but to sell to someone helped not one bit. He was angry because the costumed ball and hunt would inevitably become nothing more than a sliver of local history; the tightly-knit neighborhood here would hardly care to see the Hall family tradition turned into little more than an interesting game for tourists-guests. He was angry because, for the first time, a piece of property seemed like a home to him rather than a money- making proposition, and the thought of careless tourists tramping through its gracious halls actually sickened him. And he was angry because he very badly wanted to become a part of Banner's life—and the Hall loomed between them. If he bought the plantation, would he always be the man who'd taken away her home, however gently he managed the transaction? Even if he kept the place for his own home—an idea that appealed strongly to him, however impractical it might be—it would no longer belong to Banner's family. And if he decided not to buy, it would only force Jake either to offer it to someone else,someone with no scruples or interest in the family, or to turn it over to a historical society.
    It was a no-win situation.
    Banner knew that he was angry; the emotion was obvious from his grim expression and troubled eyes. And because she was slowly getting to know this man, she understood the source of his anger. His feeling for these old plantations and his deepening interest in this particular family held him trapped in an unenviable position. He wasn't the type of man to walk away from the problem, to disassociate himself from the future of Jasmine Hall just so that he wouldn't be responsible for whatever happened.
    Quietly, she said, “You want the Hall. You don't have to see the rest of the property, do you?”
    Rory sighed, and his voice was rough when he answered. “I want the Hall. But I don't want anything to change. Not for the Hall—and not for you and Jake. I want there to be a ball and a hunt every year, where the neighbors revert and celebrate the glory of the Grand Old South. Iwant to watch Southern gents threatening to duel in the garden and I want to listen to debates on the presidency of Mr. Lincoln. I want to know that there's still a traditional midnight waltz at Jasmine Hall.”
    Banner swallowed hard, almost unbearably moved by the muted passion in his deep voice. He was not giving lip service to what he thought she wanted to hear; he felt the same aching love for this very special home of hers that she did. It came to her then that only a special man with deep sensitivity could have become so very involved so quickly.
    For the first time, she wanted him to have the Hall. He would take care of her home if she couldn't do it herself.
    She wasn't aware that the horses had responded to tense hands on their reins by halting, until she looked around. They were standing at the edge of a clearing in the woods where a small brook murmured softly to itself in the shaded quiet. Banner forced herself to ignore her tight throat and to speak briskly.
    “Then you'll buy the place, of course. Unless Jake's price is totally outrageous. You'll buy the place,” she repeated softly, trying to accustom herself to the sound of that. “Change is a part of life, Rory; you aren't responsible for the fact that Jake's and my lives have to change.”
    “Am I not?” His voice was grim. “Then how will you feel, Banner, after I've taken your home away from you? How will you feel about me?”
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