Fit for a King (24 page)

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Diana
Palmer

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King

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"Because he knows
I'm in love with him," she
amended quickly. "He feels guilty."

"Good.
I raised him to have a conscience," she
said curtly.
"That's right, I was with his mama since he was just a boy. What morals
he's got, I put there, no thanks to her. I took over where his dad left off.
Poor old fellow, he couldn't take her everlasting rov
ing eye. He was a
good man."

Elissa
studied her silently. "Is his father still
alive?"

Margaret
smiled gently. "Very much alive. He's in a nursing home in Phoenix—a good
one. We corre
spond, and I tell him all the news about once a
month."

"Oh,
shouldn't you tell King?" she asked wor
riedly.

"Honey,
Kingston would go crazy. He thinks his
father deserted him, and he's never wanted
anything
to do with him. I wouldn't dare
confess what I've
been doing."

"But his father will die one day," Elissa
argued.

"It's
not my place to say anything," Margaret re
plied. She searched
Elissa's pained eyes. "You could,
though. He might
listen to you."

Elissa laughed weakly. "I
wonder." She stared at
the emerald ring
on her finger. It felt cold, an empty
gesture
to appease his guilt, to satisfy his sense of responsibility. Her eyes closed.
Last night it had all seemed worth it. In the cold light of reality, with her

mind back in control
of her body, it seemed wrong.
How could she have done it?

It had
been a last desperate gamble, she thought
miserably. To make him
so enslaved that he'd get
over Bess. But it hadn't worked. Bess was
still num
ber one
in his thoughts. It seemed that she always
would
be.

"If
you want him, fight for him," Margaret said
gruffly. "You've
got an advantage she doesn't. He
likes you. All he really feels for her is
pity and some leftover affection. She was like a child when she and
Bobby got
married. Kingston helped her over those
first few
quarrels."

Elissa
studied her slender fingers. "Liking isn't
enough."

"Neither
is pity," Margaret said, and got up.
"Now, you eat a good breakfast. We've
got to build
up your strength. If Bobby
stays in the hospital for
any length
of time, we'll probably have ourselves a
houseguest"

With a
sinking feeling, Elissa watched Margaret's
broad back disappear.
She hadn't considered that
King might bring Bess here. But on second
thought, of course he would. And what a perfect opportunity
for Bess
to get through his defenses. And what in the
world was Elissa
going to do to prevent it?

Sure
enough, a few hours later, King came in with
a weeping, pale Bess in tow. Bess was
still in jod-
phurs, gloriously sexy in the
expensive silk blouse she

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Palmer

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King

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wore opened to the
deep cleavage between her
breasts. Her honey-blond hair in a delicious
tangle
around her shoulders, and she was clinging to King as if he were a
lifeline.

“I’ll take
her upstairs," King said, glancing at
Elissa. "Call
Margaret to help her undress, would
you? Have you got a nightgown she can
borrow?"

"Yes,
of course," Elissa said dully, following them. "How's Bobby?"

"He'll
be all right," he said, his arm protective
around his sister-in-law. "His leg's
broken, and he's
got a hell of a headache,
but he'll be out in a few
days."

"Thank
God," Elissa sighed. But nobody seconded
that, least of all
the two people in front of her.

She had only two nightgowns
with her, but she
spared the blue one for
the opposition. Margaret gave it a sinister look as she carried it into the
second guest
bedroom to the tearful blonde.

Elissa
slowly wandered back downstairs. Margaret
was getting Bess
some soup, and King, forgoing all
the pressing business he'd been attending to without
a thought to Elissa's lack of company, was proving
he had all the time in the world for Bess. And why not? Elissa thought
miserably. He loved Bess.

King ate his supper on a tray
in Bess's room, to
Margaret's blatant fury,
leaving Elissa to eat alone or with the housekeeper.

"Idiot!"
Margaret flared as she put a bowl of stew
in front of Elissa.
"Blind man!"

"Don't
start feeling sorry for me," Elissa mur
mured. "I went
into this with my eyes open. Nobody dragged me here. On the other hand,"
she added qui
etly,
staring at the empty symbol on her ring finger,
"I think I might see about a flight back to Miami. I'm only going
to be in the way here."

"You
can't go," Margaret huffed. "If you do,
they'll be here alone, and I won't have
that kind of
gossip." She glared at
Elissa. "Your parents wouldn't
appreciate
your doing that kind of thing, either. No,
ma'am, you're stuck. I'm
sorry, but there isn't a thing
you can do
and still live with your conscience."

Ah, Elissa thought, but you
don't know what I'm
already living with. You
haven't a clue. But she
didn't say
it. Conventions or no conventions, she was
getting out of there. If she didn't, seeing King and Bess together was
going to kill her. She was brave
but not suicidal. Her heart was already
breaking.

King still
hadn't come out of Bess's bedroom when Elissa went upstairs. Gritting her
teeth, she looked in
the door, which Margaret had apparently left open.

King was
sitting beside the bed, holding hands with
a radiant Bess, and
they were talking about Bobby.
Elissa felt sick all the way to her toes just
looking,
and then
she heard what they were saying.

"I
feel so guilty," Bess was saying. "But I
couldn't help it,
Kingston. You know how he treats

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Palmer

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King

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me. I'm so alone. He's
never going to change; we
both know that."

"The
horse was a stallion. I've warned him not to
try to ride it,"
he told her.

"But
it was because I told him I wanted a di
vorce," Bess
burst out, and Elissa felt her blood run
cold. "Oh,
Kingston, I can't go on living with a man
who doesn't love me
anymore. It's so much worse
now, and when I'm with you—"

Elissa knocked
abruptly on the door; she couldn't
bear to hear any more, and it would
look as if she
were eavesdropping if she waited any longer. They
both jerked around, looking
stunned by her unex
pected appearance.

"How
are you feeling?" she asked Bess, schooling her voice and face to show
nothing but polite interest
and friendliness.

Bess
moved restlessly and pulled her hand from
King's. "Oh,
I—I'm feeling much better, thank you," she stammered. Her face colored.
"I'd forgotten you
were staying here."

"Under
the circumstances, that's quite understand
able," Elissa
said gently, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry
about Bobby, but I'm
sure he'll be fine."

"They'll
let him go home in a few days, they
said." Bess sighed, then
grimaced. "Back to his papers and business calls. He was already raving
be
cause they wouldn't let him have a telephone."

Elissa
hesitated, unable to look at King. "Well,
take care. I'll say
good-night."

She went
out, feeling her heart breaking inside, and stiffened when she heard King
murmur something to
Bess and follow her. She stood in front of her door,
waiting
for him, her back carefully straight

"I'm glad she's
going to be all right," she said,
smiling, but she
wouldn't meet his eyes. It was just as she'd predicted when she'd said back in
Florida
that she wouldn't marry him. She'd said that Bess
might be
free one day, and now it was going to happen. Elissa had represented an urge
he couldn't con
trol, but now she was an embarrassment, an obstacle.
She
stared down at the ring on her finger and knew how he felt and what he was
thinking. If only he'd
waited a few hours....

"She
wasn't hurt," he said curtly. "Just upset. But
I had to go
to her."

Her, not
his brother. She noticed the wording even
if he didn't.
"Of course."

He hesitated, which was unusual. "Elissa..."

She turned, forcing a smile. "Yes?"

"About last night..." he began slowly.

"Oh, yes. Last night"
She pulled off the emerald
ring and, taking
one of his hands, pressed it into the
palm.
She stared at his closed fingers, feeling their
strength and warmth and
remembering all too well
how they felt on her
bare skin. She closed her eyes

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King

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and wanted to die of
the shame. "This is what you
wanted, isn't it?"

He took a sharp breath. What did
she mean, what he wanted? For God's sake, they'd made love. She'd
told him she loved him. They were going to be mar
ried. So he'd brought Bess home—what else could
he
do? Surely, after what they'd
shared the night before,
Elissa
didn't think he was still struggling with a hope
less passion for his sister-in-law?

"What
I wanted?" he shot at her angrily. "Did I
ask for the damned
ring back?"

"Don't
tell me the thought hasn't crossed your
mind," she
returned, staring at him accusingly. "I
heard what Bess said,
King," she confessed. "About
divorcing Bobby. And
maybe it's for the best. If they
can't get along, and the two of you are...
Well, I'm sure it will all work out," she added, lowering her
eyes to
his broad chest. The first few buttons were
open, and involuntarily
she wondered if Bess enjoyed
touching him there as much as she did.

She
turned away. She was about to burst into tears,
and that would never do.

He stared at her as if she'd
lost her senses. She'd
agreed to marry him,
and now she was backing out.
Of
course, he'd thought he wanted Bess, and now
Bess was talking divorce. The obstacles to their union
would be removed. And yes, he'd once thought he
wanted that. But not now. Not anymore. He wanted
Elissa, desperately, and here she was, throwing his

ring back in his
face. He felt suddenly, unreasonably
angry.

"And
what about you?" he demanded, hands on
his hips.

Her chin
lifted as she opened the door to her room.
"What about
me?" she asked curtly.

"You
could be pregnant," he said bluntly. He
sounded as if he
wanted to throw things, starting with
her.

"If I am, it's my problem, not yours."

"To
hell with that!" he burst out. "It's my prob
lem, as well, and
don't you forget it."

His sense
of responsibility, she thought miserably.
"All right,"
she said quietly. "But there probably
won't be a problem.
I'd like to leave tomorrow."

He had to
take deep breaths. His eyes flashed at
her. "So that's it, is it? A quick
one-night stand and
you're off? You agreed to
marry me, remember."

"That
was before," she threw back. "I don't want
to marry you anymore. I don't want to
become like
Bess, tied to a man who doesn't
love her, who barely
notices she exists! No, sir, not me. That isn't
what I
want to do with my life. What kind
of marriage would
it be if every time
Bess calls, you go running?"

"Bobby was injured," he reminded her. "I
had to

go."

"To
her," she agreed, lifting her head. "You
didn't even ask if I
wanted to come. Bess needed you,
so you went."