Six
“You don’t owe me anything, Clay,” Rorie said, struggling to make her voice light. Clay looked driven to the limits of exhaustion. Dark shadows had formed beneath his eyes and fatigue lines fanned out from their corners. His shoulders sagged slightly, as if the weight he carried was more than he could bear. He studied her wearily, then turned away, stalking to the other side of the office. His shoulders heaved as he drew in a shuddering breath.
“I know I should feel some regrets, but God help me, Rorie, I don’t.”
“Clay, listen...”
He turned to face her then, and drove his fingers into his hair with such force Rorie winced. “I’d like to explain about Kate and me.”
“No.” Under no circumstances did Rorie want to listen to his explanations or excuses. She didn’t have a lot of room to be judgmental herself. She had, after all, been dating a man steadily for the past few months. “Don’t. Please don’t say anything. It isn’t necessary.”
He ignored her request. “Kate and I have known each other all our lives.”
“Clay, stop.” She pushed out the chair and stood up, wanting only to escape.
“For the last two years, it’s been understood by everyone around us that Kate and I would eventually get married. I didn’t even question the right or wrong of it, just calmly accepted the fact. A man needs someone to share his life.”
“Kate will make you a wonderful wife,” she said, feeling both disillusioned and indignant, but she refused to let him know how much his indiscretion had hurt her. “If you owe anyone an apology, it’s Kate, not me.”
His responding frown was brooding and dark. “I know.” He drew his fingers across his eyes, and she could feel his exhaustion. “The last thing in the world I want is to hurt Kate.”
“Then don’t.”
He stared at her, and Rorie made herself send him a smile, although she feared it was more flippant than reassuring. “There’s no reason for Kate to find out. What good would it do? She’d only end up feeling betrayed. Last night was a tiny impropriety and best forgotten, don’t you agree?” Walking seemed to help, and Rorie paced the office, her fingers brushing the stack of books and papers on his cluttered desk.
“I don’t know what’s best anymore,” Clay admitted quietly.
“I do,” Rorie said with unwavering confidence, still struggling to make light of the incident. “Think about it, Clay. We were alone together for hours—we shared something beautiful with Star Bright and...her foal. And we shared a few stolen kisses under the stars. If anything’s to blame, it’s the moonlight. We’re strangers, Clay. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.” Afraid to look him directly in the eye, Rorie lowered her gaze and waited, breathless, for his next words.
“So it was the moonlight?” His voice was hoarse and painfully raw.
“Of course,” she lied. “What else could it have been?”
“Yes, what else could it have been?” he echoed, then turned and walked out of the office.
It suddenly seemed as though the room’s light had dimmed. Rorie felt so weak, she sank into the chair, shocked by how deeply the encounter had disturbed her.
Typing proved to be a distraction and Rorie left the office a couple of hours later with a feeling of accomplishment. She’d been able to enter several time-consuming pages of data into the computer. The routine work was a relief because it meant she had no time to think.
The kitchen smelled of roasting beef and simmering apple crisp when Rorie let herself in the back door. It was an oddly pleasant combination of scents. Mary was nowhere to be seen.
While she thought of it, Rorie reached for the telephone book and called the number listed for the garage in Riversdale.
“Hello,” she said when a gruff male voice answered. “This is Rorie Campbell...the woman with the broken water pump. The one in Nightingale.”
“Yeah, Miss Campbell, what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t any problem in ordering the part. I don’t know if Clay...Mr. Franklin told you, but I’m more or less stuck here until the car’s repaired. I’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible—I’m sure you understand.”
“Lady, I can’t make that pump come any faster than what it already is.”
“Well, I just wanted to check that you’d been able to order one.”
“It’s on its way, at least that’s what the guy in Los Angeles told me. They’re shipping it by overnight freight to Portland. I’ve arranged for a man to pick it up the following day, but it’s going to take him some time to get it to me.”
“But that’s only three days.”
“You called too late yesterday for me to phone the order in. Lady, there’s only so much I can do.”
“I know. I’m sorry if I sound impatient.”
“The whole world’s impatient. Listen, I’ll call you the minute it arrives.”