They call her Dana (72 page)

"That bitch," I said.

''Have you been pining for me?"

"Of course not," I retorted.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and scowled. A light breeze sprang up. The mist shifted, swiried, began to lift. I caught another glimpse of the river. Light golden spangles seemed to sparkle on its surface. The sun was coming out. The mist swallowed us up for a moment and then grew thinner, gradually dissolving. Jason looked miserable. How I longed to stroke that furrowed brow and run the ball of my thumb along that full, firm curve of his lower lip. How I loved him, but he had some crow to eat and some explaining to do before I let him know how much.

"Why did you come, Jason?" I asked. My voice was cool.

"I shouldn't have," he said. "I realize that, but—I thought maybe I could—well, help in some way, give you some kind of support. Laura and Ollie both said they were coming and I said no, you're staying here, I'm going. They both smiled and said that would be much, much, better."

I said nothing. They'll pay, I vowed.

"You'll probably want to send me away, and I wouldn't blame you. I was very unfair to you, Dana. I was—I acted like a heel."

"You certainly did," I agreed.

"I—dammit, you're not making this very easy."

*'I'm certainly not."

"Okay! I was very unfair. I acted like a heel. IVe had the most miserable summer of my life. I love you, and I've lost you, and it's all my own bloody fault. So there!"

"It wasn't all your fault," I conceded.

"No?"

* 'I was—rather stubborn and intractable myself.''

"That's for damn sure!"

I smiled again. The mist was dissolving rapidly now, white wisps floating furiously in the breeze, disappearing, aiid rays of sunlight broke through, shining rather wealdy at first, growing brighter. He was no southern gentleman, true, but he'd never pretended to be. He was a rough-and-tumble artist, testy and temperamental and . . . quite wonderful. We would always fight, I knew, but he was the one and I loved him with all my heart, and I also knew I couldn't possibly live without him.

"We'd better go back to the house," I said.

"Anything you say."

He marched along sulkily beside me, his hands still thrust into his pockets, and when we reached the gate I stopped, waiting, and he scowled and gave an exasperated sigh and opened the gate, acting as though it were a great imposition. Poor darling. How miserable he was. The mist was completely gone from the gardens, but the air was still slightly hazy, and the flower beds were soft, multicolored blurs. As we started slowly toward the steps leading up to the next level, Jason sighed again, his bad temper dissolving. He looked at the flowers and then he looked at me, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and full of compassion.

"I'm really sorry about your father, Dana."

"Thank you," I said.

"I can see why the two of you didn't want anyone to know, but—I wish you had told me. I thought—I assumed—"

"I know what you assumed."

He believed what he had read in the newspapers. He believed Robert and I had known of our relationship before, and ... he would go right on believing that, I resolved. No one but Len would ever know the entire truth.

"It was very brave of you to give those interviews to the papers," Jason continued. "Everyone admires you for it. Ev-

eryone is behind you. I—I suppose you've made a great many plans for the future."

"A few," I said.

"You're rich now."

"Incredibly rich," I rephed.

We moved up the steps. The air was clearer now. The sunlight streamed down brilliantly. The flowers were brighter. Jason stopped and turned to me, and his eyes were full of anguish.

"I wish you weren't!" he said violently. "I wish you were dirt-poor!''

"How can you say such a thing?" I demanded.

"If you were dirt-poor, I could marry you and I could offer you a job. I can't now. There's no way you would go back to the theater. Why should you? You're a bloody heiress. No doubt the fortune hunters are already lining up. You could marry anyone, a duke, a count—hell, you could even marry an impoverished prince if you wanted to."

"I don't want to," I said. "What kind of a job?"

"We've closed down the production of Lady Caroline. The National closed it down. They've already lost a bundle of money—sets, costumes—and they're afraid they'd lose even more if—" He paused, took a deep breath, made a full confession. "It's Carmelita. She's dreadful. She's too old and she's too affected and—well, she got into a row with one of the directors of the National and walked out. Now everyone's out of work."

"The slut never could act," I observed.

"I suppose you're going to gloat," he said.

"No," I replied, "I'm going to play Lady Caroline."

"You—" He was stunned. "You—you mean you would—"

"You bet your sweet ass," I said, "and if the directors of the National give us any trouble, I'll buy the place."

"Dana-"

"What's this about marrying me?" I asked.

"I—I—" He was even more stunned and, I saw, very uncomfortable. "I couldn't marry you now/'

"Why not?" I demanded.

"You're—rich,'' he said.' 'People would think /was a fortune hunter."

"When have you ever given a damn what people think?"

Jason didn't reply. He set his mouth in a stubborn line and thrust his hands back into his pockets and strode on up the walk.

I trotted after him. We passed beds of brilliant flowers and passed under one of the trellises and moved up the steps onto the next level. Belle Mead was bathed with sunlight now, serene and elegant and incredibly beautiful. I saw that Maudie was waiting on the verandah. Oh Lord, I thought. I forgot the shawl. She's going to kill me. I wasn't going to worry about that now. I caught hold of Jason's arm and forced him to stop.

"Answer me," I said.

"Dana, I didn't come here to—I came here because—"

"I know why you came," I said.

'*I didn't even intend to tell you about the play. I thought—I thought you might need someone, and—"

"I do," I said. "I do need someone."

"I won't have you thinking I—"

"Jason," I said patiently, "if you don't shut up and kiss me at once I swear I'll knock you flat. If you recall, I have a very powerful right."

He hesitated for only a moment and then he pulled me to him quite roughly and kissed me. It was perfunctory at first, a duty done, but I held on to him and he continued to kiss me and his lips grew very, very tender. He drew me closer and kissed me more, and when he let me go I was filled with beautiful sensations that shimmered and glowed inside. Jason curled his arm around my waist and we continued to stroll toward the house.

"About that marriage—" I began.

"We'll talk about it," he said tersely.

"We wiU," I said. "Believe me."

About the Author

Jennifer Wilde lives in Texas in a three-story, octagon-shaped red brick house filled with books, paintings, antiques, and an old manual typewriter on which another bestseller is currendy being written.

Be sure to read Jennifer Wilde's bestselling historical romance!

MORE, MIRA]!m>A

Growing up on the streets of London, fighting for survival, Miranda James became an accomplished pickpocket and a remarkable beauty.

On a dare, bestselling pulp writer Cameron Gordon rescued Miranda fiom the gallows by indenturing her as his maid Cam could not begin to tame this feisty, bright street urchin. Listead, he fell in love.

Each has a secret She writes wildly successful novels under the pseudon)mi of "M.J." He is the ringleader of an underground group of Scottish rebels backing Bonnie Prince Charlie. ONCE MORE, MIRANDA is their tempestuous stoiy!

And Jennifer Wilde*s wonderful contemporaiy romance,

THE SLIPPER

A sexy novel about three spectacular women, and three glittering dreams...

NORA LEVEM: A saucy, wisecracking giil from Brooklyn, she went to college frill of her dreams to write. After a stint in the frist-paced world of New York publishing, she got her wish. But a blockbuster novel could not take the place of love.

CAROL MARTIN: Cool and elegant, a blond beauty who wanted more than anx^thing to be a movie star. Little did she know what it would take to see her name in lights.

JULIE HAMMOND: She was the most gifted of the three, transformed from a shy, self-efl^icing girl to a dynamic performer on the stage. She loved to act, but she loved her husband even more—and would give up everything for him.

ONCE MORE, MIRANDA SBN 30694-5 B3.95 THE SLIPPER SBN 35643-8 g4.95

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