Velvet Lightning by Kay Hooper Page B

I’m not.”
    His eyes searched hers, and then he half nodded. “I wondered. When I saw you at Scott's this morning. That’s why I stopped you in town.”
    “No, I was there for the reason I gave you. Because of Father.” Contentment was draining away, and she grieved its passing. With an effort she made her voice dry. “You don’t have to worry, Tyrone. There are ways to—to prevent it happening. There won’t be a child.”
    He was silent for a moment, then touched her cheek with gentle fingers and said huskily, “I wouldn’t mind.”
    Another shock. When her voice emerged this time, it was too sharp, too revealing. “I would. There won’t be a child.”
    Tyrone’s brows drew together in a swift frown. “Catherine—”
    She shook her head to stop the question and then withdrew from him, forcing her weak legs to support her. The trickle of wetness down her thighs was un- nervingly sensual, and she gritted her teeth as she moved away from him. She didn’t look at him as she bent to gather the shawl and brooch from the floor, replacing them to demurely cover her flushed bosom again.
    When she turned around, Tyrone was there before her, his own clothing adjusted and fit for public viewing. He was still frowning. Before she could move, he captured her face in one hand gently, and forced her to stand still.
    “Catherine,” he said slowly, “I would never abandon you if you were to become pregnant. You know that, don’t you?”
    The question, she realized, was important to him; her answer was important to him. After a moment she said steadily, “Yes. I know that. But there won’t be a child.”
    He kissed her lightly, briefly. “Just as long as you know.”
    She moved a little away from him and lifted one hand to touch her hot cheek. The dangers of this suddenly recalled, she wondered hopelessly if she could manage to return to the party without giving away what had happened in this locked room.
    “Oh, God,” she blurted out.
    Tyrone chuckled, realizing what was wrong. “I’m afraid your haughty mask is gone. You look very much a woman who’s just met a lover. Our secret is about to become public knowl—” He broke off because she’d turned on him abruptly, and what he saw in her face wiped the amusement from his own. “Catherine,” he began in an entirely different tone of voice.
    But she had herself under control now. “This must never happen again, Tyrone. I mean that.”
    He was expressionless. “And if it does?”
    She hesitated, knowing the dangers of pushing a man like him. He was a strong man, and strong men disliked ultimatums. But what choice did she have? None. No choice at all. Damn! Damn! Carefully she said, “We agreed, long ago, how it was going to be. Nothing has changed. If you aren’t . . . satisfied with our agreement, then it’s over. I won’t be held up in public as a whore.”
    Some emotion she couldn’t identify seemed to pass fleetingly over his face, but his voice remained steady. “I see. That’s the one line you won’t cross, then.”
    She was a little puzzled. “What do you mean?”
    “The fine citizens of Port Elizabeth, that’s what I mean. They treat you like dirt, and we both know it. They smile their genteel smiles while they cut at you.’’
     After a moment she said, “They’re just people, no better or worse than any others. Just people.”
    ‘‘Why won’t you defend yourself with them?” he asked, suddenly rough.
    Catherine felt a prickle of foreboding. He's different. He looks at me differently . Oh, God! She kept her voice calm. “I’ve done nothing to defend. I can't help their attitudes.”
    “You could change them. We both know that too. You could drop your haughty mask and show them you’re human. Show them you’re a woman with a heart that beats; lips that can smile. Show them the warmth beneath that icy surface. But you won’t. Why won’t you, Catherine?”
    What could she say to him? She could say that pride was all she had