Free A Tradition of Pride by Janet Dailey

but she's so much more beautiful than I am." The torture of jealousy and envy vibrated her words.
    "Lara is beautiful, yes," Trevor agreed, "but so is an ice carving. To me, she will never be as beautiful as you are. I swear it's the truth, Melinda, love. All evening, until I saw you walk through that door, I kept trying to find some way, some excuse, not to take part in this tour so that I could slip away and be with you tonight."
    Remembering his ardent pleas to spend a romantic evening with her, Lara sunk her teeth into her lip to choke the gasp that rose in her throat at his audacious lie. Trevor had certainly found another gullible fool.
    "It must have been knowing how much you wanted to be with me that brought me here tonight," the girl murmured. "Darling, hold me. Hold me for just a little while."
    A silence followed, faintly broken by the rustle of clothing. Lara knew they were embracing. A nauseous chill raced over her skin. Her husband was in the courtyard of their home, kissing and caressing another woman. Lara pivoted back into the study, not wanting to hear any more sounds or words of the disgusting scene.
    She spun into the hard wall of Rans MacQuade's chest. In her shock at finding Trevor in the garden with another woman, she had completely forgotten that anyone else had overheard what she had. The discovery paralyzed her for a humiliating second, long enough for Rans to reach around her and close the study door to the courtyard.
    "You look pale, Mrs. Cochran," he observed sardonically. "Surely you weren't surprised by what you heard. You've known all along about your husband's other women."
    The pallor disappeared immediately in a flood of warmth. The words formed on her tongue to deny his statement, but it seemed pointless to deny the truth. "I foolishly believed he would be considerate enough not to meet them in my home," Lara retorted, lifting her chin in regal scorn.
    His mouth quirked into a crooked, cyncial line. "Perhaps if you were as passionate and loving as the young woman in the courtyard, Trevor would not be having these affairs. A man doesn't enjoy making love to an unfeeling marble statue, however aesthetically beautiful it is."
    There was an itch in the palm of her hand to feel the stinging contact with his strong jaw, it was checked by the impulse to hurl the bitter facts of her marriage in his mocking face. There was no point in insisting that she was once passionate. Trevor's male ego would never allow him to be faithful. He constantly had to prove his manhood. He couldn't ignore the challenge of a pretty face, regardless of his love life at home. Lara obeyed neither impulse.
    "I don't recall requesting any personal advice from you, Mr. MacQuade," she said icily. "Would you please leave through the front door?"
    The corners of his mouth twitched in dry amusement, carving brief grooves in his lean cheeks to signify the presence of his dimples.
    "I'll see myself out." His brown eyes glinted wickedly. "Good night, Mrs. Cochran."
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
    THE BRUNETTE HAD BEEN with the tour group when Lara had rejoined it. The girl had looked flushed and radiant and faintly triumphant as she met Lara's glance. Trevor had evidently reinforced his ardent words with affectionate deeds.
    Almost a week had passed since the pilgrimage night. Lara might have been able to push from her mind the events of that night if it wasn't for the knowledge that Rans MacQuade had witnessed her humiliation. She knew it would be there in his eyes the next time she met him, mocking her, questioning her womanhood.
    The knowledge was an irritant to her pride. Thus far, circumstances had not created a meeting. When they did, she wondered if she could contain her temper and treat him with the arrogant disdain he deserved.
    Her finger turned the page of the book in her hand, impatiently Lara flipped it back. Her eyes had skimmed the printed page, but none of the contents had registered. What was the use? Lara closed the