Sturgis nodded, then dismissed her. He was far more interested in his mission than in Kenny’s companion. “While you’ve been out playing cowboy, Tiger’s ten under at Augusta. The fact that you’re not there to challenge him is big news, and I’m going to report it.”
“And here I thought you’d already done enough for me.”
Sturgis bristled. “You attacked me in front of a few million golf fans.”
Emma had heard the story from Torie, and she knew Sturgis had thrown the first punch, but, as usual, Kenny didn’t defend himself.
“Both of us are professionals,” Sturgis went on. “We can put it behind us. Let’s see the ranch.”
“Some other time.”
“The folks at Global National think an interview is a good idea. And since they’re one of your sponsors and a big advertiser on my show, they seem to be calling the shots on this one. But maybe you don’t mind losing a sponsor. . . .”
A sense of outrage came over Emma at this invasion of Kenny’s privacy. The fact that he was a public figure didn’t give anyone the right to barge in on him like this.
Kenny’s face was set in stone. “No interview. I already told your boss that.”
“And every other reporter in the country.” His tone grew unctuous. “I understand, Kenny. So I’ll tell you what . . . we’ll just film your ass as you run away.”
His expression grew smug, while Kenny’s complexion darkened with anger. It took her a moment to understand, and then she realized he’d made it impossible for Kenny to refuse without looking churlish. Randall must know that Kenny wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of every golf fan in American seeing footage of his backside as he walked away from the camera.
And then her skin prickled as she realized that she’d been presented with a golden opportunity. A reporter! A television camera! Just when she’d been about to give up, she’d been handed a chance to disgrace herself in a more public manner than she’d ever imagined. She caught her breath. Even Beddington couldn’t ignore this!
Kenny heard Emma’s quick inhalation and then saw the calculation in her expression. Her eyes darted from Sturgis to the cameraman, and every hair on the back of his neck stood up. Lady E had just realized she had a national audience right at her fingertips ready to witness whatever shenanigans she came up with.
He braced himself. Emma was quick, and any second now she was going to throw herself into his arms, or strip naked, or start doing a hula.
If he didn’t want to sink his career, he had to get her out of here, even if it meant submitting to an interview. “All right.” He shrugged. “Why not? It’ll be a good chance to set the record straight.” He turned to her. “Emma, this is going to be boring. Wait for me inside, will you?”
He braced himself for the worst and tried not to think about the fact that she was about to turn him into the biggest joke in professional golf. Lee Trevino’s pranks, Ben Wright’s comments about lesbian golfers, even Fuzzy Zoeller’s remarks about fried chicken and collard greens after the ’97 Masters, would be nothing compared to whatever Emma was getting ready to bring down on his head.
And then . . . nothing. He watched with astonishment as she took a deep breath, nodded, and turned away. He felt like pinching himself. Was she really going to walk away?
Without giving the cameras a second glance, she walked straight toward the house, leaving behind what might be her last chance to cause a public scandal. And he knew exactly why she wasn’t kicking up. Because she didn’t want to hurt him.
“We’re ready to go,” the cameraman called out. “Over there.”
He tore his thoughts away from Emma and headed toward the fence, trying not to think about what she’d just sacrificed. Distracting pictures started floating through his mind of the way she’d looked that morning as she’d slept next to him with her forehead puckered as if she were trying to conjure up scandalous schemes in her sleep. He remembered butterscotch curls spilled across the light blue pillowcase like ribbons of honey trailing over the sky.
“Kenny?”
He tensed. Since when did an ol’ boy like him start thinking about ribbons of honey? He sure didn’t need that kind of distraction right now, and he resolutely turned his attention back to Sturgis.
“Let’s get this sonovabitch over with.”
Fool! Emma yanked open a drawer looking for a corkscrew. She’d let the opportunity of a lifetime slip by! And why? Because she was an idiot, that’s why! A complete id-jut!
The door banged as he stalked into the kitchen. He looked tense and irritable. Good! She wanted an argument right now. She craved one! Anything to release this awful frustration.
He stopped next to the counter, took off his hat, looked at her, and smiled. As he gazed at her, all the tension seemed to melt from his body, and the transformation was so astounding that she couldn’t quite absorb it. It was as if a great thundercloud had been dispersed by a single shaft of light.
His smile was so warm she felt as if she were being bathed in it. His eyes . . . those astonishing eyes . . . Her skin prickled, her heart pounded, blood surged through her veins. Her ears rang, her sight blurred, her bones quivered. She gripped the edge of the counter.
After days of being so sexually aware of him that her body seemed to exist in a constant state of arousal, this was entirely different. This reaction had come from someplace so deep inside her that she hadn’t known it existed.
Every self-protective instinct she possessed began to scream. Not this! Please! Anything but this. Not with this man. Please, God, not . . . love.
She loved him. It wasn’t infatuation at all. And the knowledge of her love hadn’t come as a gentle unfolding, the way she’d always imagined it, but as a life-shattering cataclysm. It was so inappropriate. So impractical. So horribly, exceedingly painful.
“Something wrong?”
“Wrong? N-no. No, not at all. Of course not. How did your interview go?” She hoped he didn’t noticed her hands tremble as she finally found the corkscrew and tried to insert it into the bottle of wine he’d chosen earlier.
He took it from her. “I got through it without punching him, so I guess it went okay.” He turned the corkscrew and once again cursed her with that bone-melting smile. “Thanks for not taking advantage of the camera.”
She snatched up a salt shaker just to busy herself. Patrick was out for the day taking photographs. Earlier, she’d been glad of the privacy, but now she wished he’d return. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
She bit her bottom lip and ran her thumb over the ceramic top.
“You’re a pretty terrific person, you know that, Lady E? And I don’t just mean in the bedroom.”
She turned back to him, and her voice sounded small and uncertain, completely unlike herself. “You think I’m terrific in the bedroom?”
“Don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but that’s because of you, isn’t it?”
He gave a sharp nod. “Absolutely it’s because of me, so prepare yourself for a major letdown when you start trying it with somebody else.” He began to smile, but then his mouth seemed to suffer some sort of cave-in.
She realized she couldn’t imagine making love with anyone else. She couldn’t imagine being that uninhibited and vulnerable. Why had she allowed herself to have sex with him? She never did anything casually, so why had she thought sex would be the exception? When she’d given him her body, she’d been unconsciously giving him every part of herself, including all those parts he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.
She moaned.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just eaten bad shrimp.”
“Worse than that.”
“Emma?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Sure you can. Tell me.”
Tell him that she loved him? Not bloody likely! She could just imagine his reaction. First he’d look stunned, then horrified. There’d be no more talk of extending her stay
, no more ease between them, none of those flashing smiles that made her feel as if she were drowning in an ocean of sunlight.
Then the most astonishing thought came to her. Why not be honest? It had always been her nature to take the bull by the horns, and this would be the perfect way to save herself. If she told him the truth, it would be like an amputation. Quick and brutal. His horrified reaction would put an end to any silly daydreams she might have about little violet-eyed children and happily-ever-after.
Without letting herself ponder the matter for a moment longer, she found her mouth opening, heard herself speaking, “The most ridiculous thing has happened.” She cleared her throat. “I just realized I—It’s most annoying, completely foolish, but—” Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth. “You’re going to be absolutely stunned. Probably angry. And I quite understand.”
He waited patiently.
“Oh, never mind. Forget I—” But even as she began to retreat, she stopped herself. She possessed many faults, but cowardice had never been one of them. And who made the rule that a woman could only protect her pride by hiding her deepest feelings? She was made of sterner stuff, and she blurted out the words.
“You see, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
He stared at her as if snakes had started to sprout from her ears.
She snapped up her head. “Do not say a word! I’m so furious with myself I could scream. Can you imagine? It is so bloody ridiculous! You! Of all people!” She snatched up a meat fork from the counter. “Why don’t I just stick this right through my heart instead? Or decide I’m in love with Tom Cruise? Or—or Daniel Day Lewis? Or some silly rock star? It would be just as irrational.” She slammed down the meat fork, crossed her arms over her chest, and began tapping her foot to keep from falling apart. “Yes, well, I’m not going to put up with this, am I? There are some things that simply cannot be endured. I’m putting an immediate stop to it.”
His mouth opened and shut, then opened again. “How—how are you going to do that?”
She shot up her chin. “I just did, didn’t I?”
She was afraid she was going to cry, and there was only so much humiliation she was willing to undergo. The telephone rang, and she ignored it. “I know it’s not your fault, but I’m quite furious with both of us right now, so please excuse me.”
The phone rang again. She began to move away, then bumped into a barstool and nearly knocked it over. Furious, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello!”
“It’s Torie. Grab Kenny and get over to the house!”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’ll see when you get here. Hurry!” Offering no more information, Torie hung up.
Emma slammed down the receiver. “Your sister is having some kind of crisis.”
“What’s wrong now?”
All she wanted to do was flee to the privacy of her bedroom, which apparently was no longer possible. “I don’t know, but she wants us both over at the house right away.”
“We’d better go, then. She prob’ly murdered Dex and wants us to bury his body.”
The trip to the Traveler estate was agonizing. She couldn’t bear being trapped with his pity or his embarrassment, and she immediately turned up the radio just loud enough to make conversation impossible. He didn’t turn it down, so she knew he didn’t want to talk either.
Shelby appeared as soon as they entered the house. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
“Oh, Lady Emma, we’ve had the most unexpected visitor. A business acquaintance of Warren’s—a big investor—but I don’t think he’s here because of Warren. I think it’s because of you! Just wait until everybody in town hears I’m entertaining a real, live duke!”
Chapter 18
Emma froze.
“A duke?” Kenny said.
“The Duke of Beddington!” Shelby chirped. “He’s in the living room! Warren calls him Hugh.” She dropped her voice to something approaching a stage whisper. “Apparently they’ve known each other for years—the duke’s been an investor in the company since the early eighties—but this is the first time they’ve met. Go on in and introduce yourself. I have to get another tray of hors d’oeuvres. He has quite an appetite.”
Emma felt as if she’d been turned upside down. First realizing she was in love with Kenny, and now this. She’d known that Hugh had made a fortune through investments in high-technology companies, but there were so many. How could she have known that TCS would be one of them? And she was going home tomorrow. Why had he decided to come all this way to see her now?
Kenny clasped Emma’s arm. “You’re going back to the ranch. You don’t have to put up with this.”
His protectiveness comforted her. How tempting it would be to go along with him, but she knew she couldn’t. She gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you, but I’ll take care of it.”
Gathering her determination, she headed for the living room.
“Emma, my dear.” The chair creaked as Hugh got to his feet. He was impeccably dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit designed to minimize his stout figure. His thinning auburn hair was combed neatly back from his round face, and his shaggy eyebrows topped a pair of small, pale eyes. The air around him reeked of expensive cologne.
Behind her, she heard Kenny whisper, “Sonovabitch is a dead ringer for frigging Henry the—”
She quickly moved forward. “I’m stunned, Your Grace. What on earth are you doing in Texas?”
Hugh’s fleshy fingers clamped around her own. “Wanted to surprise you. I have to be in the States on business for the next few weeks, so I wasn’t going to be able to see you when you got back. And your descriptions of Texas have been so tantalizing, I wanted to visit the place for myself.”
It was a blatant lie. He was the least curious traveler she knew. He had come all this way to make certain she was still under his thumb.
She couldn’t imagine why he cared. There were thousands of women in England who were prettier than she, and a lot more willing. With his title and his money, he could have his pick. Why had he locked in on her?
Sonovabitch! Kenny watched Hugh Holroyd’s eyes settle on Emma’s mouth, and he understood exactly why the Duke of Beddington was so obsessed with St. Gert’s headmistress. The horny bastard.
Kenny’s fingers clenched at his side. Emma was so naive she thought all Holroyd cared about was her title and her respectability, but Kenny was willing to bet the ranch it was her curvy body that had turned the duke into an upper class stalker. Hugh’d been having visions of Lady E’s sexy little mouth doing to him exactly what it had been doing to Kenny.
Which wasn’t ever going to happen. Kenny still hadn’t adjusted to Emma’s startling revelation in the kitchen. It wouldn’t have been so surprising coming from another woman—he was used to fending off declarations of love—but Lady E was extremely smart about people, so how had she managed to convince herself she’d fallen in love with him?
He reminded himself that, for all her big talk, she was pretty much a prude. For her own peace of mind, she probably needed to convince herself that she was engaged in something more important than recreational sex. She had to believe she’d fallen in love. But it wasn’t true, and he needed to explain that to her.
The idea depressed him, but he didn’t have time to think about it because his father was speaking in that overly jovial manner he reserved for major investors. “Hugh, I’d like you to meet my son, Kenny. Hugh’s had an open invitation to visit for years, Kenny. I’m just glad he finally took me up on it.”
“Ah, yes.” Hugh had a handshake like a wet golf towel. “Pleasure, indeed, Ken. Can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve taken such good care of my Emma.”
Kenny’s jaw tightened. “No problem.”
Torie stepped forward, and the protective way she looped her arm through Kenny’s indicated she could read her brother’s mind. “Hey, bubba. Hugh here’s a golfer, and I was just tellin’ him about my round at the club this morning. If I hadn’t mi
ssed a four-footer, I’d have shot a seventy-nine.”
Hugh gave her a patronizing smile. “Yes, well, I suggested to your sister that she might be moving her head when she’s putting. I’ve been known to miss a few short ones on the links myself. Not often, you understand. Although I’m not in your league, Ken, I’ve made my share of pars.”
“Is that so.”
Shelby hurried back into the room with Peter propped on one hip and a tray of hors d’oeuvres in her opposite hand. The baby’s cheek was creased, and he rubbed one eye with his fist. “Sorry I was gone so long. Peter just woke up.”
Hugh stared at the baby as if Shelby had brought a rattlesnake into their midst, but Shelby didn’t seem to notice. “Peter’s nine months old and the apple of his daddy’s eye.”
Warren smiled. “There’s something to be said for having a second family, Hugh. You get a chance to correct old mistakes.”
Kenny recoiled from the faintly wistful note he heard in his father’s voice. “Let me take Petie from you, Shelby, while you give Hugh some more of those hors d’oeuvres.”
Hugh bristled with displeasure over the lack of formal address, but Kenny pretended not to notice.
Shelby passed over the baby and headed toward Beddington. “You have to try Luisa’s stuffed mushrooms, Your Grace. They’re delicious. And have some cheese straws. They’re from a Martha Stewart recipe, but I overlook that.” Hugh was soon resettled in a wing chair with a napkin full of hors d’oeuvres positioned neatly across his vast lap and a suspicious eye on Peter, who was rubbing his nose across the Cadillac logo on Kenny’s shirtfront.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Torie’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “We need to show Hugh some Texas nightlife. I was planning to meet Dex at the Roustabout later. Why don’t we all go and take Hugh along? You ever tried line dancing, Hugh?”
He frowned at Torie’s familiarity. “Emma and I have some catching up to do, so the two of us are going to have a quiet dinner at the hotel. Emma, it will be more convenient for me if you’re staying there, too, so I had my secretary book a room for you. On a separate floor, of course.”