Chapter 8

As she came up the path to the drive, she saw Sue disappear into the house, as the stable boy led the horses back towards the barn. Clyde was crossing the drive towards his waiting car and as he saw her, he stopped and waited, politely, she thought a little warily.

"You missed a swell ride," he told her lightly.

She was still too shaken, too blindly angry with Don to be able to achieve even a semblance of composure, and Clyde, frowning a little, said, startled, "You look upset-has anything happened?"

She managed a slightly tremulous smile and blinked against the threatening tears.

"N-n-nothing anybody could do anything about," she stammered and turned away and moved a few steps, out of sight of the house along the tall shielding border of shoulder-high azaleas that bordered the drive.

Inevitably, as she had known he would, Clyde followed her. And as she realized her maneuver had been successful, she went on a little until the tall shrubbery concealed them completely from anybody who might be looking out of a window at the house.

"Look here, if there's anything wrong-" said Clyde, and frowned a little. "Did you come upon a snake? Most of them are harmless around here."

"Not-not this kind of snake," she managed a faint smile that was completely unconvincing as she had meant for it to be.

Puzzled, uneasy Clyde asked swiftly, "What do you mean by that? There are no prowlers in these woods-at least if there are, we'll do something about it."

She turned swiftly and gave him a little smile and said quickly, "Please don't worry about me. I'm quite all right. It's just that-I'm not used to being in the country and-well, things-seem sort of strange. But I'm quite all right, truly I am."

Clyde gave her a little relieved smile.

"That's good. It means a lot to Sue having you here, but I know you miss all your exciting friends and the sights of New York."

She smiled at him sweetly.

"It's not that," she told him earnestly. "I love it here. It's just that-well, I'm such an outsider-"

"You mustn't feel that way," Clyde was warmly protective now and her heart leaped a little. "We are all crazy about you."

Are you, Clyde?" her eyes were soft and shining. "Are you, Clyde?"

He caught the warm significance in her voice, and looked a little flustered.

"Well, of course," he said hastily-too hastily by far. "You're Sue's best friend and we hope you'll visit us often. We'll set aside a guest room just for you."

She gave a little pleased laugh.

"Well, then," she told him gaily. "I won't feel like an outsider any more. After ah Claresville is my home town, too-though all the people I used to know have grown up and married and gone away."

They were walking back to his car now, and Clyde was being very masterful and very much the conquering male. (Strutting like a damned barnyard rooster that has just had his way with a squawking hen, Gayle told herself acidly.)

She watched him drive away before she turned and went into the house. And her busy mind was eagerly at work, and some of the blind fury she had felt at Don's treatment of her had melted into a calm and somewhat grim determination to twist whatever might come towards her own benefit....

Someone was entertaining the bridal party that night, and Gayle debated for a long time about what she would wear. Heretofore she had been almost prim in her dressing, as in her manner; excessively refined and "the lady" towards the idea that she could win her way into Mrs. Leslie's good graces. But tonight her jaw hardened and she selected a dress that she had hesitated to pack when she had been planning this trip.

Outwardly it looked like the simplest, most demure of gowns, made up of layers of chiffon that began a soft silvery gray above something almost purple that shaded into lavender. But beneath all the layers of smoky-gray and twilight blue and lavender, there was a slim sheath-like slip of pale pink satin that gleamed through the chiffon in a manner to make the beholder wonder whether it was rose-ivory satin-or rose-ivory flesh!

Dressed, she revolved slowly before the mirror. Her flame-colored hair was rolled into a French twist, smooth and sophisticated. Her bare arms and shoulders and upper curves of exquisite pointed breasts that thrust themselves at the soft chiffon as though protesting their veiling, were milky-white and satin-smooth, and the look in her eyes, more steel-colored now than blue-gray, was cynical.

"This ought to give those other hell-cats a run for their money," she told herself with almost grim satisfaction as she turned away from the mirror and went downstairs where Clyde and Sue and Don were waiting for her.

As she came down the stairs into the great circular black and white tile floored hall, they all turned and looked at her, startled into speechlessness.

Sue's blue eyes narrowed ever so little, and Clyde's widened and it was Don who gave a long, low appreciative wolf whistle as he came to meet her.

"Well, well, well-who's going to be the most envied man at the ball? Who else, but the best man?" he told her with gay ceremony, as he bowed and offered his arm.

She ignored him and looked, anxiously conciliatory, at Sue.

"Do I look all right?" she asked eagerly.

"You look like a million dollars-plus tax!" said Sue and her voice was ever so faintly taut. "Why didn't you warn me you were out to put me in the shade? I think I resent it a little; after all, isn't the bride supposed to be the belle of the ball? Maybe I should change this girlish confection for something a little more devastating."

"Oh, no, Sue-it's a lovely dress and you look sweet!" Gayle assured her earnestly, her eyes sweeping the powder blue organdy with its dainty embroidered touches along the ruffle that marked the off-shoulder decolletege.

Even Clyde caught the faint, almost imperceptible note of something very near derision in Gayle's voice, and moved a step closer to Sue, almost protectively.

"If you think this dress is too-too 'hussy,' " said Gayle anxiously, "I'll go change it. But I've worn everything else I brought with me-there have been so many lovely parties-" Her voice trailed off and she watched Sue with a pretty anxiety that made both the men frown a little, puzzled. They were conscious that there was something like a battle going on between the two women, yet not quite sure just what it was.

"Don't be an idiot," Sue almost snapped. "It's a marvelous gown. You'll probably get your eyes scratched out by some of the other femmes at the party-because nobody has ever owned anything like that down here. We couldn't afford it."

Gayle said innocently, "Oh, I couldn't either, except that I modelled it for a fashion show and they let me have it for practically nothing." (Harlan Kramer had hit the roof so hard he had practically had to be scraped off of it when he got the bill for the dress! It had marked the first of their serious quarrels and, looking back on it afterwards, she had realized that it was the beginning of their break-up.)

She turned sharply away, her tall silver heels clicking a little as she led the way to the door, saying curtly over her shoulder, "Well, let's get going. After all, this is a dinner party for twenty-four and the hostess would have us boiled in oil if we were late."

As Gayle looked innocently up at Don, smiling tentatively, she caught the look in his eyes and stiffened just a little.

"You just won't learn, will you?" he said in a savage whisper. "I warned you what I'd do to you if you didn't keep your paws off Clyde."

"Don't be a fool-"

"And don't you-think I didn't see the way he looked at you when you came down the stairs?"

"You looked at me, too!"

"So I did-so I did-and I may look at you again-it's more than barely possible. But let us not forget, my pet, that I'm not about to be married to the sweetest girl in the world-"

"Spare me the corn," she said through her teeth. "I loathe corn."

There was no further chance for private speech for they were at the car now, and Clyde was putting Sue tenderly into it as though she had been something infinitely precious and fragile as spun glass that the slightest rough touch might bruise beyond mending.

Don helped Gayle into the back of the car, his hand tightening on her elbow when she would have pulled free of him, when she would have evaded his touch. He launched into a gay four-way conversation as they drove away and it was on the wave of conversation and laughter that they arrived at the party.

From the moment of her arrival, Gayle was the center of attention-covert and inimical on the part of the women, eager and hopeful from the men. But she handled herself well, and seemed completely unaware of the excitement she had created by making the most of her beauty. And as she glanced about the table she told herself grimly that she was not half as naked as some of the other women; plunging necklines, off-the-shoulder decolletage, gowns cut so sheath-like that one could almost see the wearer change her mind-the only thing, she told herself pridefully, was that she had something worthy of being revealed, far more so than any of the other women present.

After dinner there was dancing in the long drawing room, with a five-piece band of grinning, rhythm-minded young men who set feet tapping from the moment they began tuning up their weird and wonderful assortment of instruments.

Gayle had many partners, seldom traversing more than the length of the room without changing partners; but it was almost midnight before Clyde came dutifully for the one dance custom demanded that he ask of her. Across the room, she saw Don dancing with Sue, and she smiled warmly up at Clyde, slid her hand through his arm with an almost intimate gesture and said eagerly, "Oh, let's not dance this one-it's so hot in here. And the moon is lovely tonight."

She didn't wait for his protest; perhaps his manhood would have forbade his making one. But she preferred not to take a chance on that and they walked out of the door, along the hall and out on the wide, old-fashioned gallery that rose two stories, with the almost inevitable small balcony above the front door that seemed to be a feature of the authentic, or pseudo "ante-bellum" style of architecture.

She paused at the top of the wide, shallow steps that led down to the driveway, with the carefully clipped yew tree border that marked the beginning of the garden. She lifted her lovely head, and closed her eyes and inhaled with every evidence of delight the cool, dew-wet fragrance of the garden.

"Oh, isn't it a glorious night?" she cooed sweetly. "And to think we are stupid enough to stay inside a close, stuffy, crowded room when we could just as easily be out here?"

Impulsively she led the way down the shallow steps and to the rose-framed entrance to the garden and along it, Clyde following her because he wanted to or because he couldn't think of an excuse not to go along with her, since it was ostensibly their dance.

Well down the path, beside an old sun dial, out of sound and sight of the house, she turned swiftly to Clyde and let the moonlight illumine her lovely face. And her voice shook just a little as she burst into what sounded very much like impulsive speech that she could no longer control.

"Clyde dear, there is something I have to tell you-I don't want to, but-well, you simply have to know it-I mean-well, this morning when you asked me what was wrong-I didn't want to tell you-but after all-well, a woman alone in the world as I am, without family or influential friends has to rely on herself for-protection from men like Don."

Clyde's eyebrows went up and his voice was cool, distant.

"Don's my best friend, Gayle-I don't think I can listen to any-scandal you want to tell me about him-"

"Oh, but it isn't scandal-or if it is, it isn't aimed at Don, but at me-" She caught her breath and turned away, as though a sob had clutched at her throat.

"Scandal aimed at you? Then what's Don got to do with it?" he asked after a moment.

She hesitated, for this was the chance she had been looking for and she dared not spoil it for it would not come again. After a moment she turned back to him and her eyes glistened with tears, but in the moonlight, her smile was shy and tremulous.

"Oh, well-it's-well, it's not very-pretty," she admitted huskily. "And of course, men always stick up for each other-even when one is a rather notorious-wolf!" She brought the word out with an obvious effort.

A little relieved, Clyde laughed.

"Oh, for Pete's sake-are you trying to tell me Don's been making passes...."

She drew back a step and her head went up and even in the moonlight he could see that she resented his tone.

"I'm sorry-" she told him stiffly. "I should have kept quiet...."

"Oh, but, Gayle, child, you're taking this much too seriously," Clyde began, and his tone was almost fatherly, so that she yearned to fling out her hands and drag her sharp, ruby-tipped nails down the sides of his face, marking him for all the world to see. "Don's a human, normal guy-and you're a very lovely and alluring creature...."

"And because I won't let him-have me, he is going to tell you and Sue and the others that I'm a-tramp," she brought it out almost viciously.

Clyde was obviously rocked to the heels.

"Oh, come now, Gayle-you're exaggerating...." he protested.

Tight-lipped, her eyes blazing, she looked straight at him.

"Am I? Wait until he tries to tell you that I'm a-common slut...." She pushed the words past her rigid lips with such an obvious effort that Clyde was unpleasantly startled, and all mirth vanished.

"He knows he'd never be allowed to get away with even hinting such a thing about you, Gayle-not to me, anyway!" said Clyde swiftly.

She drew a little shaken breath and her eyes were shining and she was smiling eagerly, almost shyly.

"Oh-C-Clyde darling!" she stammered, and put out her shaking hands to him in a little fumbling gesture. "Oh-thank you for that!"

Clyde caught the shaking hands in his own as he would have comforted a child, though his blood was stirred as no child had ever stirred it before.

"Thanks for nothing, Gayle honey," he said quickly. "Don't you suppose I'm man of the world enough to be able to recognize a decent, sweet, fine woman when I meet her?"

For a moment she was speechless, just looking up into his face there in the moonlight. And it was only by almost superhuman self-control that she was able to keep herself from a smothered laughter and from saying, "Oh, you poor damned fool! Man of the world-what world?"

"I'm afraid I'm g-g-going to c-c-cry-isn't that s-s-silly?" she stammered, and stumbled into his arms and hid her face against his shoulder as his arms closed protectively about her.

"Well, for Pete's sake, honey, why should you cry?" demanded Clyde, a little alarmed and very much startled at the suggestion. "After all, nobody would believe Don even if he tried to say such a thing-and of course he won't...."

She raised her head a little, still clinging to him, and her face was only a bare inch or so from his and the fragrance of the delicately provocative perfume she used rose about him in a little dizzying, exquisite flood.

"He-he-said he would...." she stammered.

Clyde frowned, still not quite believing her.

"Because-because I wouldn't-let him-let him...." she broke off as though to finish was shame more than she could endure, and once more hid her face against his shoulder, pressing her warm body against him with a practiced sureness that its warmth and exciting curves would have the usual effect on his masculine desire.

"Look here, Gayle, are you trying to tell me-seriously-that Don has been making those kinds of passes at you?" he demanded, and there was anger in his voice and for a moment she was frightened lest the anger should be directed at her, born of his defense for his friend.

"I-knew a man like you-decent and honest and-and wonderful couldn't believe that...." she stammered forlornly.

"Well, after all, Gayle, you're very lovely and very desirable and Don is a bachelor-a very good catch, matrimonially speaking...." Clyde tried to lend a light touch to a situation he was finding distinctly discomforting because through his body his blood was running hot and sweet at this contact with so much womanly softness and warmth.

"Oh, men like Don never want to marry women like me...." she said bitterly, and added quickly, "not women who are-out in the world, fighting for their existence-he thinks we are only good to ... fool around with. When he wants to marry it will be somebody like Sue...."

Clyde grabbed at the chance for a lighter tone.

"Oh, didn't you know?" he said almost gaily. "There aren't any more women like Sue-she's unique...."

Gayle had to set her teeth hard against the bitter anger that rose within her, and the effort at stifling that anger put a tremble in her voice.

"Oh. Sue's one of the lucky ones-showered with luck-because you love her!" she told him swiftly. "And Don does, too, of course ... I'm sorry-I shouldn't have said that...."

Clyde grinned down at her, and wished that she would withdraw herself from his arms, and wished instantly that she would not, and found himself in a pleasantly excited frame of mind that made him vaguely uneasy.

"But of course you should-it's all right-of course-Don's in love with her-half the men she knows are-but I'm the guy she's going to marry!" he boasted contentedly.

She set her teeth hard for a moment and he felt her body tense against him before she drew a long hard breath and stepped back a little, letting go of him reluctantly, and for just a moment one of her hands slid up and touched his cheek with a little caressing gesture.

"You're-s-s-sweet, darling-so very sweet!" she said unsteadily. "Don knows I love you...." She caught the words back and all but held her breath, turning her face from him so that he could not see her expression lest it betray her.

"I'm-s-s-sorry," she said breathlessly over her shoulder. "I-didn't mean to s-s-say that-but of course you knew, anyway. I think everybody does...." Her voice died in a little soft gasp that was a sob.

Clyde felt, as any normal man under the circumstances would have felt, big and strong and at least eight feet tall and very protective. But instantly he crushed down the feeling and assured himself that she was overwrought.

"Oh, see here, Gayle...." he began-but before he could finish there were flying footsteps on the garden path, and a man raced towards them, veered sharply when he saw them, with a little gasp and plunged into the shrubbery bordering the garden and was gone.

It happened so swiftly that neither Gayle nor Clyde could do anything but stand still and stare after the man. And a moment later they became conscious of a woman screaming at the house, and raised, confused, excited voices. And Clyde turned without a word to Gayle, and ran back towards the house.

Gayle stood where he had left her for a long moment, fighting down the rage and frustration she felt at the interruption to a scene that had been progressing exactly the way she wanted it to. She almost had had Clyde on the ropes; he had been stirred and stimulated and had reached the point of wanting her; so that she could, in a few deft strokes, have set his passion crying out for her until it would only be appeased by his surrender. And then the running man, who had plunged almost upon them before he had seen them and hurled himself through the shrubbery, ruined everything.

She heard the excited voices from the house, and waited until she was quite sure that she could walk into the house and be outwardly calm, cool and collected.

As she came up the steps and crossed the gallery to the hall, little knots of excited women stood about, and the men were being very busy running about the lawn and gardens, with flashlights, and calling to each other.

"What's up?" asked Gayle coolly.

"Oh, Gayle, were you in the garden? There was a burglar in the house-Mary-Ellen walked in on him and he knocked her down!" panted someone eagerly.

"A burglar?"

"Yes-isn't it terrible? Madly exciting, of course," panted the girl, saucer-eyed with excitement. "Don Randolph's called the sheriff and organized a hunt, and everything-but poor Mary-Ellen fainted or was knocked unconscious, we don't know which! This is a party none of us will soon forget!"

"Too bad nobody got killed-then you would have really had an exciting evening," said Gayle drily, and the girl stared at her, shocked and insulted.

"What a terrible thing to say!" she gasped, outraged, and her eyes chilled. "After all, this isn't New York, you know."

"How right you are!" said Gayle and turned away.

Clyde stood protectively beside Sue, his arm about her and, as Gayle met his eyes, he flushed a little and looked away, remembering the moment in the garden when he had held her close and been tinglingly aware of every lovely curve and contour of her seductive, alluring body. She gave him a slow, provocative, intimate smile and knew with a leap of her heart that he was quite conscious of it even though he was not looking directly at her. More, she knew that Sue was watching her, with a lovely mouth thinned to a sullen line, her eyes bright with suspicion.