Love on Trial (9 page)

“Getting his sister out,” he replied.

She blinked at him. “You think Davy's sister did it?”

“She had the best motive, from the information I've gathered. Devolg was a known womanizer, and he liked variety. Davy's sister has a nasty, jealous temper.
All I need is to get her on the stand for five minutes. I can break her.”

It was the way he said it, the confidence in his deep, slow voice, the hardness of his face, that made her certain he could do exactly that. She studied him in the muted light of the porch, her eyes tracing his profile lovingly as he suddenly turned and caught the look in her eyes.

“What are you thinking, Siri?” he asked quietly.

“That I hope you never get me on the stand,” she said with a nervous laugh. She finished the brandy and set her own glass down beside the rocking chair.

He turned in his chair to face her, catching the side of her neck with his big, warm hand to hold her eyes level with his, as she raised back up. “I'd never hurt you,” he told her. “Not on the witness stand, or in any place on earth.”

Her pulse ran wild at the slow, caressing touch of his fingers. She looked into
his eyes, and everything she'd ever wanted was within the reach of her arms.

“Woman,” he whispered huskily, “I didn't mean for this to happen. But, I need you…”

He gently tilted her face and reached across the scant inches that separated them to touch his mouth lightly to hers. She caught her breath as he increased the pressure, shifting his hand to the nape of her neck to force her closer.

“God, it's not enough!” he said in a rough whisper. He moved suddenly, rising to lift her out of the rocking chair, his mouth claiming hers again as he crushed her body against his, burning all thought of protest out of her whirling mind. She locked her arms around his neck, straining closer, returning the fervor of his kisses without reserve.

She felt him drop back down into his own chair, carrying her with him. He draped her over his knees, allowing her head to fall weakly back into the crook
of his arm, as he looked down at her with eyes laden with passion.

His chest rose and fell unsteadily against her soft, yielding body, but for all the passion in his eyes, his face was like chiseled rock. Her own breath came quickly, unsteadily, and her lips trembled as she stared back at him.

Sanity returned all in a rush. She vividly remembered the last time he'd kissed her, and what he'd said to her. She had made up her mind that he wasn't going to hurt her again like that.

“May I get up now?” she asked in a rusty whisper. “You…you said last time that you were through giving me lessons.”

Something came and went in his eyes, but he erased the hardness from his expression with a slow, lazy smile. “I don't think you need many more, do you?” he countered.

She lowered her eyes to his massive chest in the pure white shirt. “Why?”
she asked gently, and he knew she wasn't talking about “lessons.”

“If you need a reason,” he said quietly, “because of this.” He caught one of her slender hands and pressed it palm down to his chest just above his heart. The beat was heavy and erratic. “Do you feel it, Siri?” he asked deeply.

She drew a shaky breath. “I…a lot of women must have affected you that way.”

“A few.” His own hand slid up from her waist to rest not quite intimately at the curve where her own heart was running wild. “I seem to have the same effect on you, sparrow.”

“Don't make fun of me,” she pleaded in a ghostly voice.

“I don't want to make fun of you. I want to make love to you,” he said in a low, quiet voice that made shivers race down her spine.

“You know I've never…”

He laughed softly. “Maybe I'd better
clarify that, little innocent. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and touch you. I can do that without taking you into my bed,” he whispered at her ear.

“Hawke Grayson, you are the most…”

His mouth brushed against hers slowly, tasting hers in a tender, leisurely encounter that instantly quieted her. Meanwhile, his thumb was tracing delicious patterns on the bodice of her dress, touching and lifting with a strange rhythm that made her tense with unknown sensations.

“You're tense,” he murmured. “Are you afraid of me, or is it that good?”

“Hawke…” she protested weakly.

“Tell me, honey.”

She twisted, trying to escape the maddening caress of his fingers, but the arm behind her gripped like steel and held her captive, and she moaned sharply, her nails digging involuntarily into his hard chest through the soft fabric.

His cheek slid against hers caressingly.
“Your nails are sharp, little cat,” he murmured, a smile in his voice.

“I'm…sorry,” she managed unsteadily, her eyes closing as she yielded, trusting him even against her will, drugged with pleasure.

“I'm not. Here.” He unbuttoned the top three buttons of the silky shirt and slid her cool hand inside it. “Anything goes, Siri,” he said quietly. “Anything.”

“But…you said…” she faltered.

“To hell with what I said,” he growled as his mouth opened on hers. “I want you.”

Before she could react to the words, he was teaching her how agonizingly sweet a kiss could be, and she gave up trying to think.

The sound of voices made him raise his head. He looked searchingly down into her misty, amber eyes.

Her fingertips traced a tiny pattern on the warm, bronzed flesh of his chest through the mat of dark hair. “Are you
trying to seduce me?” she whispered lazily.

“Not yet,” he murmured, “but if you keep that up, I may damned well try.”

“Oh!” she breathed. She withdrew her hand with a shaky sigh. “Sorry.”

“You still don't know what you can do to me, do you?” he asked quietly. “You sweet, little witch, I step into an inferno every time you touch me.”

She searched his face quietly as the voices inside the house drew nearer. “If it's any consolation, you do the same thing to me,” she admitted.

“Any experienced man could, Siri,” he told her. “Don't let it go to your head.”

She dropped her eyes to his chest. “I won't.”

“I like the taste of you,” he said, holding her close for a moment, “and the way you feel in my arms. But when we get back to Atlanta, nothing will have
changed. Nothing, Siri, do you understand?”

She looked up and met his eyes solemnly. “Dad always used to tell me to live one day at a time.”

There were shadows of some deep, private sadness in his eyes for just an instant. “That's what I mean, sparrow. For the next two or three days, we'll forget the rest of the world and enjoy being with each other. But the minute I land that plane in Atlanta, I'm going to walk away from you. And I won't look back.”

She bit her lower lip. “I…I won't have an affair with you, Hawke,” she said self-consciously.

“You're damned right you won't,” he said roughly. “I told you before I wasn't going to play fast and loose with you, and I meant it. I won't promise not to kiss you, you impudent little minx, but it isn't going any further than that. I don't want your innocence on my conscience. I've got enough to haunt me without that.”

She shifted in his arms, feeling the tension drain out of her to be replaced with a strange, easy comradeship. “Does that mean,” she asked, “that I have to promise not to seduce you, either?”

He grinned down at her. “It's only fair. But would you know how?”

“I'm learning. In a few years, look out.”

“My God, you'll be devastating,” he agreed. He leaned back in the chair and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, holding it lightly in his fingers. “Will the smoke bother you? If you're going to mind it, you'll have to get up, because it's either this or a shot of whiskey.”

She linked her hands behind his head. “Do I unnerve you, Mr. Grayson?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes, Madam,” he replied, “you do.”

She nuzzled her cheek against his jacket, loving the solidness, the warmth of his body, the deep sound of his voice
in the darkness. He was, she thought drowsily, so easy to love.

To love.
Her eyes flew open. She gazed across the breadth of his chest to the long porch with darkness at its end. She loved him. For the first time, she let herself admit it, feel it, drown in it. She loved Hawke. And what good was it going to do when he'd already told her how it was going to end? He wasn't a loving man. He could want a woman, true, but Siri wanted more than desire from him. She wanted a thousand nights like this one to lie in his arms listening to the night, and feel a security that had never been hers to enjoy until now, with this man. She wanted children with thick black hair and dark eyes. Her eyes closed. Behind her eyelids, she could feel the warmth of tears brewing.

The Hallers came out onto the porch unexpectedly, and Siri started and sat up. Hawke pulled her down again and held her with one big arm.

“Be still,” he murmured over her head, “they're family.”

“But you said…”

“Damn it, will you be quiet?” he growled. “Are you ashamed to be seen like this with me?”

“Oh, no!” she said involuntarily.

He smiled gently down at her, and the look in his dark eyes made her want to cry. “Then stop trying to escape. Just act naturally.”

“How can I, when I've never been in a man's lap before?” she asked.

The smile broadened. “You felt right at home a few minutes ago,” he reminded her.

She blushed. “Beast!”

“That isn't what you were whispering under your breath, either,” he whispered as the Hallers came into view. “Come on out,” he called to them before Siri could think of a reply. “I'm rocking my
‘niece.'
”

“Is that true, Siri?” Kitty teased, a knowing smile on her face.

“No, it isn't,” she replied. “He's trying to lead me into a life of sin.”

“Don't look at me,” Hawke protested nonchalantly. “You're the one holding me down,” he added. “A man can't be left alone in safety these days. Brazen young women leaping onto his lap, attacking him…”

“And who attacked who?” Siri demanded.

“Whom,” Hawke corrected. “I thought you were an accomplished journalist.”

“Of all the…” she began.

“Where are we going tomorrow?” Randy broke in with a grin.

“That,” Kitty interpreted, “is called a ‘red herring,' in case you didn't know. In other words, time out!”

Siri laughed, relaxing in Hawke's loose grip. “Fair enough. Where are we going tomorrow?” she asked him.

“To Fort Sumter. I'll let you play with the cannons,” he added.

“Will you stand in front of one while I play with it?” she asked coaxingly.

Randy and Kitty burst out laughing, as Hawke tried unsuccessfully to turn her over his knee.

It was a lovely, sunny day, and driving down the Battery on the way to Fort Sumter, the Atlantic had never looked bluer. Siri glanced at Hawke across the front seat, her eyes caressing the dark face and hair. He was wearing a red knit shirt with jeans, and she'd never seen him look more handsome. Her own white sundress emphasized her slenderness and her fairness. The contrast between them was striking. She paid so much attention to it that she missed most of the scenery between Graystone and the fort, and wasn't at all sorry.

Fort Sumter faced the ocean, a pale aging relic of an all but forgotten war. The big black cannons still stood guard over
the harbor, but the fort's walls were little more than crumbling brick over which an American flag, not a Confederate one, flew proudly. She looked out to sea, feeling the wind in her face, absorbing the faint sea smell as she watched the seagulls in the distance. It was awesome to stand here where so much history had been made. It was impossible to be unaware of those who came before.

 

Fort Sumter was only one of many tourist attractions they made time to see. Siri's favorite by far was Magnolia Gardens, with its unbelievable number of flowering trees and shrubs, its links with the Civil War and England, and its legacy of almost unworldly beauty.

“It reminds me a little of Graystone,” Siri remarked to Hawke, as they strolled over the famous little bridge.

“It should. My great-grandmother fell so much in love with it that her husband created a miniature garden in its image just to shut her up,” he laughed.

T
he story made her curious, and when they got back to Graystone, she had to go back and stroll through the garden again.

Randy and Kitty borrowed the car to visit their relatives, leaving Hawke and Siri alone. He spent an hour or so with his new overseer before he joined her in the quiet garden, where she stood under one of the monstrous oaks that stood like sentinels beside the river.

He came up behind her, pulling her back against him with his arms locked securely around her small waist.

“What do you think of Graystone?” he asked.

Her fingers curled over his forearms, tangling in the dark, wiry hair. She sighed, letting her body go limp against his. “It's beautiful, Hawke,” she said wistfully. “Like something out of a postcard book—colorful and peaceful.”

“And lonely,” he added quietly.

“Is that why you stayed away so long?” she asked.

His arms tightened, and she felt his warm, hard chest expand at her back. “The world was pretty black for me when I left here the last time. I'd just lost my fiancée—as Kitty told you, I'm sure. And my mother had just been buried. I could hardly bear the sight of this garden. She loved it so.” He drew a deep breath. “I had to get away. Somehow it was easier to let Jackson run the farm for me.
Even when my father died, I only came home long enough for the funeral. This is the longest I've stayed since. It's also the first time I've been able to enjoy being here.” His cheek nuzzled against hers. “You bring the color back into it for me, Siri.”

“I'm glad,” she murmured, smiling. “Do you think you'll ever come back here to live?”

His body went taut. “Why should I? The house is too big for one man, even with the staff.”

“You could get married, raise a family,” she said gently.

“In a little over a month, I'll be thirty-nine years old, little girl,” he said quietly.

“Does that mean,” she asked with mock denseness, “that your advanced age won't allow you to father children?”

“You damned little irritant,” he chuckled. “What I mean is that, at my
age, it's hard to tell if a woman wants me or access to my wallet.”

“Wear old gunny sacks and carry a dented cup around with you for a few weeks,” she suggested, “and you'll be able to weed out the ones that want you for yourself.”

“I thought Jared said he educated you. Where? At the funny farm?” he asked.

She laughed softly. “Do you really wonder about women?”

“Most men do.”

“I mean, about if they're after you because of what you can give them? You're…not an unattractive man,” she said, faltering on the words.

“You've already shown me that,” he said at her ear.

She flushed hotly, and drew in a quick, shaky breath. “It's…it's very peaceful here. I like the sound of the river,” she said enthusiastically.

“You're hedging,” he said, and she
felt rather than saw the smile on his dark face. His arms tightened.

“Sometimes I think you enjoy embarrassing me more than winning cases,” she accused.

“Yes, I do. You adorable brat, you wouldn't give a damn if I didn't have a dime, and I know it.” He let her go. “But the timing is all wrong, Siri. We'd better get back. Mrs. Simms will have supper waiting.”

“All right.” She walked along beside him, enjoying the slow pace he set, enjoying the surroundings of the farm as dusk approached.

“Thank you for letting me come home with you,” she said softly. “Everyone needs a green memory to take out and water when snow lies on the ground.”

He bent his head to light a cigarette. “From now on, every time I come here, I'll see you,” he said.

“Is that good or bad?”

“A touch of both,” he admitted with
a lazy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Oh.”

He caught her slender hand in his and pressed it gently. “Just enjoy today, Siri. Don't try to live your whole life in a day.”

She locked her slender fingers with his broad, warm ones. “Do I do that?”

He smiled. “Constantly.”

“I never pretended to be a patient person,” she reminded him.

“It comes with age.”

“Does it, Methuselah?” she asked with mock solemnity.

His eyes narrowed, his lips compressed. “Methuselah, did you say?” He jerked her body against his, wrestling with her in the shade of a gigantic oak, while she laughed and struggled with him playfully.

He caught the back of her head, holding it steady while he looked down at her. “Let me show you how old I am…” he
threatened, crushing his warm mouth down on hers unexpectedly.

With a whisper of a sigh, she yielded to him, her lips involuntarily parting to invite a deeper caress.

He drew back instantly. “Not like that,” he whispered roughly. “It's like striking a match to dry kindling.”

She leaned back against his hard arms. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I…I'm not very good at this.”

“You're too good at it, honey,” he said, deadly serious. “Let's go.”

She walked quietly beside him, disappointed and a little shaken by his sudden withdrawal, and the hardness that returned to his dark face. He seemed to resent even the small effect her nearness had on him, as if he hated anything that touched or threatened his near-perfect self control. She sighed wistfully. Any day now, it would be all over. They'd be back in Atlanta, and things would be the way they were before the trip began. She
studied the ethereal beauty of the estate with eyes that longed for more than just a passing acquaintance with it. How lovely it would be to grow old here, with Hawke….

 

Just as they reached the house, a silver Mercedes pulled up in the driveway and stopped. Hawke froze beside Siri as the door opened and a tall, slender, strikingly beautiful brunette stepped out of it with a practiced grace. In her clinging white dress and matching sandals, she was elegance personified.

“Hawke, how nice to see you again,” the woman said softly, and Siri knew in a blinding flash who she was.

“Hello, Nita,” he replied with a pleasant smile. “It's been a long time.”

“Too long,” she said, batting her long lashes up at him as she moved closer. “Kitty's mother told me you were here. I just had to see you.”

“How's your husband?” he asked.

“I divorced him three months ago,” she replied sweetly. “I've been so lonely…”

“Have you moved back to Charleston?” he asked.

“I'm thinking about it,” she cooed. Her eyes darted to Siri, as if she'd just realized she was there. “Who's this?” she asked with a poisonous smile.

“My partner's daughter. Siri Jamesson, Nita Davis,” he introduced them. “Kitty and Randy are with us on this trip.”

“You'll be in town for a while, won't you?” the brunette asked hopefully.

“Until tomorrow,” Hawke said, and Siri felt herself doing a double take. He hadn't mentioned that before.

“Please have dinner with me, Hawke,” Nita pleaded with one silky hand caressing his arm. Her eyes were bright blue and extremely seductive. “For old time's sake?”

Siri imagined that he hesitated for just
a second before he answered her. “All right.” He turned toward Siri, his face impassive, his dark eyes telling her nothing. “Don't wait supper. I'll be late.”

“Oh, darling, it's been so long,” Nita breathed as she led him back to the Mercedes.

He put her in on the passenger side and slid in under the wheel. Siri didn't wait to watch them drive off. She turned and went quickly into the house. If he'd needed to emphasize how little she meant to him, that was enough. She got the message.

Supper was quiet. The Hallers still hadn't come home, when Siri finished eating and went into the kitchen with Mrs. Simms to help the elderly woman with the dishes.

“Lass, I don't need help, you know,” Mrs. Simms told her with a smile.

“I helped mess them up,” Siri pointed out reasonably, “and it's only fair that I help clean up. Besides,” she added with
a grin, “I like the feel of warm soapy water. I never let Dad buy me an automatic dishwasher for that reason.”

“A homebody, are you?” Mrs. Simms deftly washed plates and passed them across to be rinsed and dried. “No young man?”

Siri paused. “A friend,” she corrected. “No one I want to marry.”

“No one except that blind man who comes to visit me every year or so, is that it?” the older woman probed.

“Blind man…?”

“Mr. Hawke,” came the bland reply. “Because if he can't see what's written all over you when he walks into a room, he has to be blind.”

“He…he doesn't know,” Siri said quickly. “He can't, not ever. He's already made it very clear that he doesn't have any interest in marriage or a family, and I've made it clear that I can't settle for anything less.”

“Ah, a standoff.” Mrs. Simms
laughed. “Not for long, though,” she added with a sly, teasing glance. “I've seen the way he looks at you when you don't notice. It's as if his eyes touch you, lass. I've seen that look in a man's eyes too often to mistake it, but not since that baggage broke their engagement have I seen it in Mr. Hawke's eyes.”

“Nita, you mean?” she asked, wiping the last of the plates dry.

“That baggage,” Mrs. Simms repeated, “never cared for him, she never did. And now here she comes back like it's been days instead of years and carries him off again. Nothing stupider than a man. I thought he'd had better sense,” she added vehemently. “She'll have him trapped again before he knows it, poor thing. You mark my words, men are too susceptible to a woman like that. She gets him so hungered that his mind breaks down. Aye, you can laugh, but it's what happens.”

Siri drew a deep, sobering breath.
“Maybe that's what I should have done,” she said with a wry grin, “but I don't know how.”

“You look like you'd be a fast learner,” Mrs. Simms teased. “And if you love the man, lass, it comes natural.”

But what if the man doesn't love you? She thought it, but she didn't say it. Instead, she sang the praises of the Scotswoman's pudding, and went away with the secret recipe for it.

 

It was late evening when the Hallers came back, and Hawke still hadn't put in an appearance. Siri knew without being told that he and Nita weren't just talking all this time, and the pain caused tears to form in her eyes as she sat quietly on the porch listening to the night sounds. Had it only been last night that she'd been sitting here when Hawke reached for her and kissed her so passionately that the breath left her body? She drew a shaky sigh. What a bittersweet memory that was going to be.

Randy and Kitty came up the stairs running, laughing, and she envied them their lightheartedness.

“We've been nightclubbing,” Kitty laughed. “There's this great little dinner theater downtown, and I don't think I've ever laughed so much in my life. The players were just fantastic!”

“Hawke not home?” Randy asked.

Siri shook her head. “He went off somewhere with Nita.”

Kitty stopped in her tracks and the smile left her face. “Nita came here?” she asked.

“This afternoon. Hawke said not to expect him until late,” Siri told her with a forced smile. “Don't worry, he's a grown man, he can look after himself.”

“How about a drink?” Randy asked.

Siri got up out of the rocking chair and followed them inside for a nightcap. It was after midnight when they stopped talking and went to bed. But Siri lay awake involuntarily until she heard the
sound of a car coming up the driveway. When she glanced at the clock, it was three in the morning. And in spite of all her efforts, she listened intently for Hawke's footsteps coming up the stairs, slowly passing her room, before she could let herself go to sleep.

 

The Hallers decided to spend a few more days in Charleston with Kitty's people, so Siri and Hawke flew back to Atlanta alone. She'd barely spoken to him since their late breakfast at Graystone, instead sharing her bits of conversation with the Hallers and Mrs. Simms, while Hawke sat brooding in his chair.

He unloaded their luggage from the plane and led the way quietly to the parking lot where he'd left the black Mercedes parked when they departed for Panama City. He put the suitcases in the trunk before he unlocked the car doors and turned to Siri. He looked unusually tired, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if
he hadn't had any sleep at all—which, Siri thought angrily, had probably been the case.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee before we leave?” he asked with a stranger's cool politeness.

The temptation was terrible, to spend just a few more minutes alone with him, talking to him, looking at him. It would never again be as intimate between them as it had been during those days on the beach and in Charleston. But she believed in quick, clean breaks, not painful little cuts, so she shook her head.