Free A Season for Love by Heather Graham Page B

cornered.
And then there were those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that had been haunting him since he first saw her. Eyes that could freeze with blue ice. Cold, assured, confident eyes, which every once in a rare while relented and lost their guard.
And then they could be beseechingly, trustingly warm—the eyes of a sensitive, sensuous woman. Eyes that lured him into a silken trap, made him fantasize... made him believe against all reason that she was all things good—love, devotion, and loyalty. . . .
But that was ridiculous—she was none of those things. And if his haunted body still yearned for her with an alien singleness and treachery, it didn't matter.
He could never touch her again.
She was Von Hurst's wife.

Chapter Four
As Ronnie hurried along the path she heard her name called again. Stopping, she saw that Drake was catching up with her, his long strides bringing him quickly along.
"Don't you think we should make an appearance together?" he suggested mildly, his expression now fathomless. "I was sent to escort you back in."
Ronnie watched him contemplatively for several seconds, then her dark lashes swept over her cheeks. "I suppose," she said indifferently.
He offered her his arm, and she accepted it lightly as they returned to the house. Pieter was already in the salon, where Henri was preparing stout snifters of a fine cognac.
"Ah—there you are!" Pieter greeted them jovially. His gaze alighted upon his wife with mild curiosity. "Are you quite all right, my dear?"
"Yes, fine." Ronnie smiled weakly, accepting her cognac with a nod of thanks to Henri. "I've a bit of a headache, though." She kept her gaze upon Pieter rather than Drake. "If you two will forgive me, I think I'll excuse myself shortly and retire for the night."
Pieter frowned and nodded his acquiescence. "My wife, I'm afraid, Drake, will need her rest. I don't go about much myself these days, so she'll be your escort around the island." His frown deepened and his brooding eyes turned to probe Ronnie. "I hope you didn't acquire sunstroke aboard that ship. Too much time in the sun is not healthy."
Ronnie tensed, sipping on her cognac, She didn't dare look in Drake's direction. "I'm fine, Pieter, just a little tired. I—er—I really wasn't in the sun that much." She winced at the folly of her last statement. If she had ever left an opening for Drake to pounce upon, that was it. But he said nothing. She couldn't see him from the angle of her chair, but she could sense his presence as he casually leaned against the bar.
Pieter turned to him in explanation. "Ronnie just sailed off on one of those Harbor cruises you see advertised." He lifted a gaunt hand in the air. "As I've said, I seldom leave the house myself. Veronica, however, is still young. I insist that she occasionally get out and enjoy herself."
"How nice," Drake replied, his tone betraying nothing. Ronnie could feel his dark eyes turn to her. "And did you enjoy yourself, Mrs. von Hurst? I hear that those cruises can be very pleasant—offering every amenity."
"Thank you, yes," Ronnie replied coolly, rising, still refusing to glance his way. "I did enjoy the cruise. Pieter"—she moved swiftly to her husband to drop a quick kiss on top of his thinning blond head, certain he would not brush her aside with company in the room—"I'm going up, if you don't mind. Mr. O'Hara"— she finally lifted her eyes to Drake's with a daring shade of defiance—"I do hope you'll forgive me. However, I'm sure that you and my husband have a multitude of things to discuss." With the regality of a queen, Ronnie then sailed from the room with her head high.
"I wonder," she heard Pieter murmuring absently as she closed the salon doors behind her, "if I'm fair to Ronnie in many ways. ..."
Ronnie grimaced as she started up the spiral stairway. Pieter couldn't know it, but his statement had probably given his guest quite a laugh.
The headache she had invented was pounding away in her skull as she reached the