Free The Cowboy and the Lady by Diana Palmer

poor heart would wear itself out on Jace’s indifference.
    It was a good thing that she and Terry were leaving at the end of the week. Now that she knew what her fear of Jace really was, she could stay away from him. She could leave Casa Verde and never see him again. The tears came back, hot and bitter. How terribly that hurt, to think of never seeing him again. But in the long run, it would be less cruel than tormenting herself by being near him.
    Resolutely, she dried the tears and exchanged the aqua lounging dress for her jeans and a pink top. She crumpled the dress into her suitcase, vowing silently that she’d never wear it again. As she tucked it away, she caught the faint scent of the tangy cologne Jace wore, clinging to the fabric.
    * * *
    Marguerite was busily addressing dainty decal-edge envelopes in her sitting room on the second floor when Amanda joined her.
    “Hello, dear, have enough sun?” the older woman asked pleasantly, pausing with her pen in midair.
    “In a sense,” she replied. “I came in to lend you a hand but then I ran into Jace and stopped to patch him up.”
    Marguerite’s face changed, drew in. “Is he all right?”
    “Yes, it was just a gash in his arm,” she replied, easing the fears she could read plainly in the older woman’s eyes. “I never did find out how it happened. One of the cows, I guess.”
    Marguerite’s dark eyes hardened. “Those horrible beasts,” she exclaimed. “Sometimes I think the Whitehall men have more compassion for breeding stock than they do for women! Except for Duncan, bless him.”
    Amen, Amanda thought as she pulled over a dainty wing chair next to Marguerite’s writing table and sat down.
    “Jace actually let you put a bandage on him?” she asked her young companion. “I’d have thought little Tess would have been standing by just in case.”
    “Apparently not,” she replied, hoping her face didn’t show any of what really happened. What she didn’t know was that her mouth was still swollen, despite the cold compress, and there were marks on one delicate cheek, which were plainly made by the rasp of a man’s slightly burred cheek.
    But Marguerite kept her silence, aware of the peculiar tension in her companion. “You’re sure you don’t mind helping?” she asked, pushing some envelopes and a page of names and addresses toward her.
    “Of course not.” Amanda took a pen and began to write in her lovely longhand.
    “Jace didn’t argue about letting you play nurse?” she continued gently.
    “He did at first,” she murmured.
    Marguerite glanced at her, amused. “You’re coming to the party, of course,” she said. “These are just unforgivably late invitations to a few friends whom I’m sure can make it despite the short notice. The party’s going to be held at the Sullevans’. They have a huge ballroom, something we haven’t.”
    Amanda nodded, remembering the enormous Sullevan estate with its graceful curves and gracious hospitality. “I can’t come, you know,” she said gently.
    Marguerite looked across at her with a knowing smile. “I’ll get you a dress.”
    “No!” Amanda burst out, horrified as she remembered Jace’s threat.
    But Marguerite’s attention was already back on the invitations. Amanda started to write, unaware of the faint, amused smile on the older woman’s face.
    * * *
    Duncan and Marguerite were the only ones at the breakfast table when Amanda went downstairs after a restless night. Jace, she was told, had long since gone to his office, in a black temper.
    “He gets worse every day lately,” Duncan remarked, glancing at Amanda with a smile as she took the seat beside him. “You wouldn’t know why, Amanda?”
    She tried to hide her red face by bending it over her cup of black coffee. “Me? Why?”
    “Well, you were both conspicuously absent from the supper table,” he observed. “You had a sick headache, and Jace had some urgent business at the office.”
    Marguerite was just beginning to