To Love and Cherish by Diana Palmer Page B

what she’d never had—for love and affection and a little kindness.
    Like a dam breaking in the dark, she let all the emotion flow out of her in a burst of tears. She heard footsteps and the sound of the maid’s voice, along with a deep, quiet male voice that grew steadily nearer. Then there was the thud of a door closing, and Shelby felt eyes on her bent head.
    She looked up into a face she’d never thought to see again, into eyes that were narrow and dark with compassion as they traced the pathetic little figure alone on that thick, spotless white carpet.
    â€œWhat…are you doing here?” she asked in a choked, husky voice, seeing him blur as the tears misted in her eyes. Remembering what he’d said to her at their last meeting, her face closed up like a petal in darkness, her eyes big and wounded and hurting as they met his.
    â€œI came to see about you,” he said tightly.
    He was wearing a dark suit, the ever-present cream Stetson clutched tight in one dark hand, his bootsgleaming in the light of the chandelier. His face was lined and haggard, as if he needed sleep, and his jaw was taut.
    Her lower lip trembled, but she lifted her face proudly. “I don’t need anyone, thank you,” she said in a strangled voice.
    His jaw clenched. The hand that was holding his hat almost crushed the brim. “Oh, honey,” he said softly.
    A sob broke from her lips and her eyes winced with the pain. “I hurt, King!” she whimpered.
    â€œI know.” He threw the hat onto a chair and lifted her up into his hard arms, crushing her slender body against the length of his, and she felt the warm, awesome strength of him. Her arms went jerkily around his broad shoulders, clinging, her nails biting into the fine material of his dark suit coat.
    â€œHold me,” she sobbed. “Hold me tight. Make it stop hurting…!”
    â€œTime will do that.” His lips brushed her soft throat. “Let it out, honey. Cry it all out. I’m not going anywhere.” He rocked her like a baby, comforting, caring. “Cry it out, Shelby.”
    It took a long time, and she could hardly accept the irony of being comforted by her worst enemy. But maybe he felt a truce was in order in view of the circumstances. Finally, when she felt drained and numb, he mopped her face with his handkerchief and made her blow her red nose.
    He found the little blonde maid and had her make a pot of coffee while Shelby went to wash her face and get herself back together. He was sitting comfortably on the sofa when she came back, with his long legs crossed in front of him and his jacket and tieoff. He looked the picture of masculine elegance, dark and sensuous and vaguely threatening as his hard eyes traced her body in the silky caftan.
    â€œThat damned thing doesn’t suit you,” he said bluntly. “It’s too frivolous.”
    She sat down in the big armchair, tucking it around her curled up legs. “It was my mother’s,” she said. “I forgot to pack a gown.”
    He lifted a glass full of amber liquid. “I helped myself,” he said quietly. “It was a hell of a quick trip, and I haven’t slept since night before last.
    She gaped at him. “You flew here?”
    â€œI flew.”
    â€œA commercial flight,” she said softly.
    He shook his head. “My Cessna.”
    â€œYou could have crashed it with that little sleep!” she burst out, horrified as she thought of all the things that could have gone wrong and caught him unaware if his mind had been foggy.
    He gave her a faint smile. “I don’t think so.” His eyes traced her flushed face. “Worried about me, Shelby?”
    She averted his gaze to the suit coat he’d thrown carelessly beside him on the sofa. “I’d worry about anyone on a trip that long without sleep.”
    â€œNicely parried.” He downed the drink and set the empty glass on top of the