Valley Of The Vapours: Arkansas Part 7

"Yes?" Tish paused before walking through the kitchen to the connecting garage door.

"Roarke's house is something of a showplace. It would be worth putting up with his company for a few minutes just to see it." Blanche didn't allow time for Tisha to reply as she added, "Drive carefully."

Tisha thought to herself that the house would have to be pretty fantastic for her to stay. In her present frame of mind, she didn't want to be alone with Roarke. Her att.i.tude towards him was much too ambivalent. Until she was able to control or understand her feelings, the less she saw of him the better it would be.

The heavy downpour forced her to keep the car at a crawling pace as she negotiated the quarter of a mile to Roarke's house. She nearly missed the shrub-bordered driveway entry, her headlights picking it out at the last minute. The rain was creating miniature rivers in the graveled road while the towering pines seemed like high walls closing in on the car.

Tisha hadn't realized the house was set so far back from the road. Tension closed her grip on the wheel and she knew her knuckles were white. At last a light pierced the gloom, a beacon in the midst of a storm. She parked the car in the small cul-de-sac and switched off the motor. It took some tricky manoeuvring to open the umbrella as she climbed out of the car and dashed through the puddles and driving rain to the overhang. The package was tucked under her jacket in an attempt to protect it from the downpour.

Impatiently she pushed the b.u.t.ton to the doorbell. With the growling thunder it was impossible to hear if it was ringing inside. The wind was beginning to beat the rain in about her legs, so Tisha grasped the large bra.s.s knocker and began hammering it against the door. In seconds it was opened with Roarke framed in the doorway, wearing a cream pullover sweater and brown slacks.

"Tisha?" His surprise was obvious as he peered under the umbrella. "I thought only ducks were out in this kind of weather."

"Quack, quack," she said sarcastically, fumbling under her jacket for the package.

"You're never at a loss for an answer, are you?" Roarke chuckled. His hand reached out to close over her shoulder and draw her into the shelter of the house. "I confess that you caught me by surprise. I didn't think you'd miss my company so much that you'd come out on a night like this."

He had automatically taken the umbrella from her, half-closing it, and set it against the wall, a puddle of water forming almost immediately beneath it.

"I didn't come to see you," Tisha retorted angrily. The package was free of her jacket folds and she held it out to him. "This was put in Blanche's mailbox by mistake. She thought you would need it, so I ran it up here for her."

The door behind her was already closed. She would have preferred to hand him the package and run. After taking the package, glancing at it briefly, he tossed it on a walnut table.

"Thanks for bringing it, I'd been waiting for it. Blanche probably remembered," he smiled. "Let me take your jacket."

"I'm not staying." She backed away as he stepped forward to help her remove it. "I only came to give you the package. I'll leave now."

"You can come in by the fire and dry your clothes. I don't think your aunt will miss you if you stay for a few minutes."

"No, thank you," she repeated coldly. "I'll just get wet again when I go back out to the car."

"I have a whole pot of cocoa made. Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup?" he offered.

"No, I wouldn't."

"I insist." Once again his hand closed over her arm before she could elude him. "It wouldn't be neighbourly to refuse my offer of hospitality in return for you driving through that storm to deliver the package."

"I really..." The protest died away as Tisha sensed that she wasn't going to win the argument. "Very well, I'll have one cup. Then I'm going to leave."

"One cup," he agreed with a patronizing nod of his sandy brown head. He pointed to her right. "The living-room is in there. I have a fire going in the fireplace. You can dry out a bit while you drink your hot chocolate. By the way, do you like it with marshmallows or whipped cream?"

"Whipped cream, please," she requested, moving away from him the instant he released her arm.

"Go on ahead. I'll bring the cocoa in a minute."

Hesitantly Tisha followed his instructions, slowly walking through the opening he had indicated. Without his presence to distract her, she took in her surroundings, glancing back at the marbled foyer with its white file floor and light walnut-panelled walls. Then her feet touched the thick, soft pile of a carpet and she looked ahead.

A carved wooden banister beckoned her down a small flight of three steps to a sunken living-room carpeted in a vibrant shade of dark blue. Floor-to-ceiling curtains of k.n.o.bby white covered almost one entire wall while the rest of the walls alternated between paneling of walnut framing areas of cream-white.

Golden flames leaped behind a dark wrought iron screen in front of the glittering white stone fireplace in the centre of an inside wall. Tisha moved to the middle of the room, fascinated in spite of herself by the artistic perfection of its interior. A large sofa covered in white velour faced the fireplace. The whiteness of its cus.h.i.+ons was accented by large pillows in the same bold shade of blue as the carpet beneath her feet. On either side of the fireplace, facing the sofa, were two large chairs with flanking tables, gleaming brightly with the reflected light from the fire.

Blanche had told her Roarke's house was a showplace, but Tisha had truly expected something ostentatious and elegant. Certainly nothing as cosy and inviting as this room was. The luxury was implied, not brazenly displayed.

"Take your jacket off and sit down."

She turned with a start to see Roarke standing at the top of the steps.

"If you want more light, there's a dial on the wall by the fireplace," he motioned with his head since he held a cup in each hand.

That was when she noticed the indirect lighting in the ceiling above. Now its dimness suggested an intimacy that Tisha felt the need to dispel, so she walked with an a.s.sumed nonchalance to the dial and turned the light brighter.

"The room is very lovely," she commented in a tight voice.

"Thank you," he replied, accepting her compliment with a brief inclination of his head, but Tisha couldn't find any arrogance in the gesture. "You can turn the chair towards the fire if you like."

"It's all right," she a.s.sured him nervously as she slipped her arms out of her windbreaker and sat down on the edge of one of the bluestriped chairs. She started to lay the jacket across her lap.

"Let me hang that up for you," Roarke offered, setting her cup of cocoa on the table beside her.

Reluctantly Tisha gave it up. It was damp and although it wasn't dripping water, she knew the logical thing to do was to put it somewhere where it could dry without getting something else wet in the process. She watched Roarke as he carried her jacket up the few steps before disappearing in the foyer. In seconds he was back. His presence seemed to complete the room, adding the vitality it lacked on its own. As he reclined his lean body on the couch, Tisha picked up her cup, concentrating on the swirling cream floating on top rather than meet his gaze.

The silence began to grow. She swallowed nervously, the crackling of the fire adding to the tension in the air. Somehow she had to speak-about anything.

"Blanche told me your home was beautiful, but I never expected anything like this."

"What did you have in mind?" Roarke asked dryly.

Tisha glanced over at him, trying to read the veiled expression in his brown eyes. He seemed quite relaxed, yet there was tenseness there, too.

"I suppose I thought it would be...more showy," she replied, trying to adopt an indifferent att.i.tude.

"Gaudy?" An eyebrow quirked.

"I really don't know. I didn't think about it that much," Tisha shrugged, feeling a surge of retaliatory anger that he should try to put her on the defensive. "Probably if I had, I would have expected a sofa that made into a bed at the flick of a b.u.t.ton while the lights dimmed and soft music filled the room."

"A perfect setting for a seduction scene, is that it?"

"Something like that," she agreed, "but this," sweeping the air around her with an expressive movement of her hand, "is much more subtle, although I'm sure it accomplishes the same purpose."

"Isn't it strange?" Roarke murmured. "I always looked on this as my home."

The blandly stated comment curled Tisha's fingers as she carried the cup to her mouth. She heard the reprimand in his words and knew she deserved it for her insult. The hot liquid burned her throat as she tried to drain the cup dry so she could leave. She started when Roarke got to his feet in a lithe movement.

"Come," he ordered. "I want to show you the rest of my home."

"Another time," she refused quickly, setting her cup down and rising to her feet.

"No," Roarke said firmly, his tall form blocking her way to the steps, and Tisha had no doubt he would forcibly stop her from leaving. "I want your impression to be complete."

She took a deep angry breath. "Very well."

"After you." His outstretched hand signaled her to precede him down the dimly lit hall branching off from the living-room.

Tisha complied, her shoulders squared and stiffly resentful, as she led the way. A few feet into the corridor were two doors directly opposite each other. Roarke opened the one on the right first, turning on the light switch to reveal a blue and green bathroom. Then he moved to the opposite side of the hall and opened the other door.

"This was meant to be the spare bedroom," he explained, turning on the light and waiting for Tisha to enter the room. "But I use it as an office and drafting room."

Just inside the door was a small alcove with closets on each side followed by a set of three steps leading up into the panelled room. Shelves covered one wall with a desk and leather chair in front of them. A drafting table and stool occupied one corner while the rest of the furniture consisted of a leather sofa in a rusty orange colour and a matching recliner chair. The same rusty orange shade was included in the curtains, which also incorporated the blue of the carpet in a bold plaid that completed the masculine, businesslike atmosphere.

Roarke didn't wait for a comment from Tisha as he led her out of the room to the door at the end of the hall. This time he offered no explanation as he opened the door and flicked on the light switch. As Tisha stepped in she realized why. This was the master bedroom-Roarke's bedroom.

There was the same thick blue carpeting on the floor, but here the steps led down where the room was dominated by a large bed covered in a spread of s.h.i.+mmering antique gold. Tisha found it difficult to swallow as her gaze remained riveted to the inviting expanse of the bed to the exclusion of the matching pieces of walnut furniture. She was painfully conscious of Roarke standing beside her.

"It's very nice," she said abruptly, turning on her heel to escape.

Her pace didn't slow up until she was in the relative safety of the living-room. She glanced back at Roarke, seeing the mockery in his eyes and hating him for it.

"I'd better be going now." she declared.

"You haven't seen the kitchen yet," he reminded her with a repressed smile. "All women are interested in kitchens, aren't they?"

"Show me the kitchen, then," Tisha snapped.

The marble white tile of the foyer led into the modern kitchen, s.p.a.cious and efficient. The blue theme of the rest of the house was present in the small yellow and blue flower bouquets of the vinyl paper in a background of cream white. In spite of herself, Tisha was drawn to the homely essence of the room that managed to creep through, but she refused to let it win her.

"As I said before, you have a lovely home." The insincerity in her voice was a cool wind meant to show her indifference.

"I'm so glad you like it," Roarke returned with the same hollow enthusiasm. He moved back in the entrance hall where he retrieved her coat from the closet. "Please thank Blanche for me, won't you? I did have need of the package this weekend."

"I will," Tisha nodded, slipping on her jacket and reaching for the umbrella sitting in the corner. She tilted her head back to meet the measured coolness of his eyes. "And thank you for showing me around."

He reached around her and opened the door as if he was in a hurry to be rid of her. "My pleasure," he taunted.

A stab of lightning illuminated the night as Tisha hurried out the door, more anxious to leave than he was to have her go.

Chapter Six.

THE puddles were deeper and the rain was still pouring down. If anything, the storm had increased in intensity as Tisha waded through the running water to her car. When she opened the door and ducked inside, she noticed the headlights of her car illuminating the downpour. Groaning aloud, she tossed the umbrella on the floor beside her and turned the key in the ignition switch. Nothing. Only the click of the key and no answering response from the motor.

Her hands clutched the wheel of the car and she rested her head against them. The battery was dead. She had left the lights on and run down the battery. That meant she had to go back and ask Roarke for help. And that thought didn't appeal to her at all.

With the protection of the umbrella over her head, Tisha sloshed back to the house and banged the knocker against the oak door. This time she didn't have to wait as long for Roarke to answer the door.

"I left the lights on and my battery is dead," she announced as the door swung open. "Would you help me get it started?"

He stared at her for a brief moment. "I'll get my car out of the garage." Tisha nodded and started to turn away. "Wait," Roarke called her back. "There's no sense getting ourselves drenched trying to start your car tonight. I'll give you a ride home and bring your car back in the morning."

Tisha started to argue, then changed her mind and again nodded agreement. "My shoes are wet. I'll meet you by the garage door," she said, avoiding the suggestion she could see forming on his lips.

She arrived at the double doors just as Roarke began raising them from inside. In seconds she was out of the rain, folding up her umbrella and climbing in the pa.s.senger side of the white car. She huddled in her corner while he reversed the car out of the garage and turned it down the lane. Lightning jagged across the sky followed immediately by rolling thunder.

"Well?" Tisha muttered, glancing at the coat sleeve of tan leather. "Aren't you going to make any comments about women drivers?"

"Why should I?" His head turned briefly towards her. "You didn't leave your lights on deliberately. It was an honest mistake."

"But a stupid one," she grumbled, hating him for the magnanimous way he had dismissed it.

"We all make them. That's what makes us human." The words were barely out when they were followed by a m.u.f.fled "d.a.m.n!"

Tisha pushed herself more erectly in her seat, prepared to do battle at the imprecation she thought he had directed at her. Then she felt the application of brakes and glanced ahead. Through the downpour, she could see the reason for his vehement exclamation. A large pine tree had fallen across the road, taking two smaller trees with it.

"Can you move them?" she whispered as she stared at the formidable barrier in the road.

"You can't be serious! Do I look like Superman?" he asked with an accompanying sound that resembled laughter.

"Maybe we can push them out of the way," Tisha suggested desperately, and fumbled for the handle of the door.

"Forget it," Roarke barked. He slipped the gear s.h.i.+ft into reverse and backed to a wider section of the road and turned the car around.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to the house," he answered, his sharp, clipped tones stinging her with their coldness. "You'll have to stay the night."

"I'll do no such thing!"

"The road is blocked. We don't have any choice."

"Oh, yes, we do," Tisha declared as the lights of the house came into view.

"What brilliant suggestion do you have this time?" He turned the car into the garage and switched off the motor as he brought his gaze around to her.

Her hand closed over the door handle and opened the door. "I'll walk home!" she declared, scurrying out of the car before the arm that was reaching out for her could stop her.

She fumbled with the umbrella catch while her feet carried her swiftly out of the garage and into the storm. The answering slam of his car door only hurried her movements while the rain began drenching her hair and face.

"Tisha!" Footsteps sloshed through the rain after her. "Tisha, come back here!"

"I'm going home!" she cried.

Then the umbrella was wrenched from her hands as Roarke pulled her around. The sloppy ground gave her no leverage to struggle with as she uselessly tried to twist free.

"I am not going to let you walk home!" He gave her a vicious shake. "Now be sensible!"