His Virgin Wife: The Wedding in White / Caught in the Crossfire / The Virgin's Secret Marriage. Diana Palmer
like being uncommitted.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Viv studied her friend curiously. “But he’s very protective of you.”
Natalie averted her eyes. “Why shouldn’t he be? I’m like a second sister to him.”
Vivian frowned. She didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, she started coughing violently. Natalie handed her some tissues and helped her sit up with a pillow held to her chest to keep the pain at bay.
“Does that help?” Natalie asked gently when the spasm passed.
“Yes. Where did you learn that?” she asked.
“At the orphanage. One of the matrons had pneumonia frequently. She taught me.”
Viv dropped her eyes. Occasionally in her jealousy, she forgot how deprived Natalie’s life had been until the Killains had come along. She knew how Nat felt about Mack, and she didn’t understand her sudden need to hurt a woman who’d been nothing but kind to her ever since their friendship began. She was fiercely jealous that Whit seemed to prefer Natalie, which didn’t help her burgeoning resentment toward her best friend. She was confused and envious and so miserable that she could hardly stand herself. She didn’t know what she was going to do if Whit made a serious pass at Natalie. She was sure that she’d do something desperate, and that it would be the end of her long friendship with the other woman.
The hours dragged after that tense exchange. Natalie kept out of Vivian’s bedroom as much as she could, busying herself with tidying up around the living room. Whit paused to flirt with her from time to time, but she managed to keep him away by reminding him of Viv’s condition. He was getting on her nerves, and Viv was getting more unbearable by the minute.
When eight o’clock rolled around, it was all Natalie could do to keep from running for her life. Whit was still around, and for the past fifteen minutes, he’d been coming on to Natalie. She was on the verge of assault when Mack walked in unexpectedly.
He gave Natalie and Whit a speaking glance. They were standing close together and Whit was leaning over her. It looked as if he’d just broken up something, and his eye flashed angrily.
“Why don’t you make another pot of coffee, Whit?” she asked quickly.
“As soon as I get back,” he promised. “I need to run to the convenience store and get some cigarettes. I’m dying for a smoke.”
“Okay,” Natalie said.
Mack didn’t say a word. With bridled fury, he watched the other man go. But when he shook off his raincoat, he smiled at Natalie as she took it and hung it on the rack for him.
“Did it rain all the way home?” she asked.
“Just about. How’s Viv?”
“She’s doing fine.”
“Good.” He caught her hand, pulled her into the study with him and closed the door. “You can sit with me while I get these papers sorted. Then we’ll go up and see Viv.”
“Whit won’t know where we are when he comes back.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s my house.”
“Point taken.” She sat in the chair across from his big desk and watched him sort through a briefcase before he sat down with several stacks of papers and began putting them into files.
As she watched his hands, she thought back to the night Carl had been killed in the wreck…
It was a stormy night, with lightning flashes illuminating everything inside and outside the house where Natalie was living with her aunt, old Mrs. Barnes. It was her seventeenth birthday, and she was spending it alone, in tears, mourning the death of the only boy she’d ever loved. His death that night in a wreck, driving home from an out-of-town weekend fishing and camping trip with a cousin was announced on the late news. The cousin lived. Carl had died instantly, because he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. The official cause of the one-car accident was driving too fast for conditions in a blinding rain. The car had veered off the highway at a high speed and crashed down a hill. One of her friends from school had called, almost distraught with grief, to tell Natalie before she had to find out from the news.
Carl Barkley had been the star quarterback of their high school football team. Natalie had been his date, and the envy of the girls in the senior class, for the Christmas dance. She was to be his date for the senior prom, as well. Handsome, blond, blue-eyed Carl, who was president of the Key Club, vice president of the student council, an honor student with a facility for physics that had gained him a place at MIT after graduation. Carl, dead at eighteen. Natalie couldn’t stop crying.
At times like these, she ached for a family to console her. Old Mrs. Barnes, who’d given her a home during her junior year of high school and with whom she would live while she attended the local community college, was away for the weekend. She wasn’t due back until the next morning. There was Vivian Killain, of course, her best friend. But Vivian had also been a friend of Carl, and she was too upset to drive. The only fight Natalie and Vivian had ever had was over Carl, because Vivian had started dating him first. Carl had only gone out with her once before he and Natalie ended up in English class together. It had been love at first sight for both of them, but Vivian only saw it as Natalie tempting her boyfriend away. It wasn’t like that at all.
The thunder shook the whole house, and it wasn’t until the rumble died down that Natalie heard someone knocking on the front door. Slipping a matching robe over a thin pink satin nightgown with spaghetti straps, she went to see who it was.
A tall, lean man in a raincoat and broad-brimmed Stetson stared at her.
“Vivian said your aunt was out of town and you were alone,” Mack Killain said quietly, surveying her pale, drenched face. “I’m sorry about your boyfriend.”
Natalie didn’t say a word. She simply lifted her arms. He picked her up with a rough sound and kicked the door shut behind him. With her wet face buried in his throat, he carried her easily down the hall to the open door that was obviously her bedroom. He kicked that door shut, too, and sat her gently on the armchair beside the bed.
He took off his raincoat, draping it over the straight chair by the window, and placed his hat over it. He was wearing work clothes, she saw through her tears. He hadn’t even stopped long enough to change out of his chaps and boots and spurs. His blue-checked long-sleeve shirt was open halfway down his chest, disclosing a feathery pattern of thick, black curling hair. His broad forehead showed the hat mark. A lock of raven-black straight hair fell over the thin black elastic of the eye patch over his left eye.
He stared at Natalie for a few seconds, taking in her swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, the paleness of the rest of her oval face.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye, Mack,” she managed huskily.
“Who does?” he replied. He bent and lifted her so that he could drop down into the armchair with her in his lap. He curled her into his strong, warm body and held her while she struggled through a new round of tears. She clung to him, grateful for his presence.
She’d always been a little afraid of him, although she was careful not to let it show. She’d been the one who nursed him, over the objections of the orphanage, when he was gored in the face by one of his own bulls. His sister, Vivian, was no good at all with anyone who was hurt or sick—she simply went to pieces. And his brothers, Bob and Charles, were terrified of their big brother. Natalie had known that he stood to lose his sight in both eyes instead of just one, and she’d held him tight and told him over and over again that he mustn’t give up. She’d stayed out of classes for a whole week while the doctors fought to save that one eye, and she hadn’t left him day or night until he was able to go home.
Even then, she’d stopped by every day to check on him, having presumed that he’d have his family standing on its ear trying to keep him in bed for the prescribed amount of time. Sure enough, the boys had walked wide around him and Vivian just left him alone. Natalie had made sure that he did what the doctor told him to.