on the board floor announced her arrival even before she called out, "Hi, Dad. I'm back."
"Katy me darlin'! It's about time you were home," her.father answered from the living room. "Where the devil have you been all day?"
"Most of the time I've been at the Cawleys'. We swam and pla . . ." The words froze on Katy's lips, and she came to a stunned halt just inside the living room as her eyes lit on the long, lean man sprawled in one of the fireside chairs. His narrowed stare seemed to slice right through her as she stood rooted to the spot.
"Trace! Wh-what are you doing here?"
"He came to see you, my girl. Trace was under the impression you were expecting him."
There was a gruffness in her father's voice that Katy hadn't noticed before, and when she turned to him and saw his reddened, bleary eyes and disheveled appearance her heart sank. He had been drinking again. Heavily.
"I—I—must have forgotten. I—"
"Don't worry about it, Tom." Trace cut into her stammered explanation and sent her a knowing look that made her scalp prickle. "I probably didn't make my intentions clear last night." He paused and a slow grin curved his mouth. "That's a mistake I won't make in the future, I assure you."
The softly spoken words hit Katy with stunning impact, and she took a step backward, reeling under the implied threat. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight. Cold, icy fear was racing through her veins. Her eyes darted to her father, but he seemed sublimely unperturbed, his gaze trained on the glass in his hand.
Trace stood up, and Katy jumped. Her involuntary reaction brought his brows together.
"Is anything wrong, Katy? You seem . . ." he paused, his eyes narrowing on her white face, "nervous."
It was a politely worded question but Katy didn't miss the thread of steel in his voice. It made her even more nervous. She didn't want him probing for the cause. The fewer people who knew, the better.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she shook her head. "No. Of course not. I'm just tired, that's all."
"I see," he said thoughtfully. "In that case, I'll be going." He picked up his hat and gave her father a grim smile. "Tom, I'll see you in the morning."
Katy sagged with relief. She followed him happily as he beaded for the door, barely able to believe she was getting rid of him so easily. Her deliverance was short-lived however. At the door he grasped her elbow and sent Tom an inquiring look. "You don't mind if Katy walks me to the gate, do you, Tom? I'd like to speak with her for a moment."
"Sure, sure." Tom waved his hand dismissively. "You two go on. Me, I'm going to bed." So saying, he rose to his feet and staggered toward the hall door. Wide-eyed, Katy watched his retreating back with something akin to panic.
"Oh, but . . ."
Her protest was cut off as Trace transferred his hand from her elbow to the small of her back, its forward pressure propelling her through the open door. Without engaging in an undignified struggle, she had no choice but to go with him.
Katy walked stiffly beside him. The pressure of that guiding hand on her back was burning through her clothing like a branding iron. She was shivering with reaction to this frighteningly masculine man, a combination of fear, anger and resentment, and had no doubt that he could feel the tremors that quaked through her.
At the gate he stopped and turned her to face him. Partly out of fear and partly out of sheer stubbornness, Katy kept her eyes fixed firmly on the third button of his shirt. His first words, however, brought her head up sharply, her eyes widening in dismay.
"How long has Tom been drinking like this, Katy?"
In the pale glow of light from the house she couldn't see his expression clearly. She looked at him with huge, stricken eyes, searching his face for some sign of compassion or understanding. Oh, dear God! Don't let him dismiss Dad, she prayed fervently. Not now. Not after everything else. Please, God, please!
Her gaze wavered beneath his penetrating