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“Oh, God,” he moaned before his mouth once more sought hers and lowered onto it.
His hands slid under her shirt and fumbled with the clasp on the front of her bra.
The light came back on.
They jumped guiltily away from each other and blinked against the suddenly harsh light as if trying to remember where they were and what they had been doing before being swept away by their passion.
Camille risked looking at Zack, but he was running his hands through his hair in such agitation and frustration that she dared not speak. She turned her back on him and straightened her clothing, tucking her shirt chastely back int
o her waistband.
“Zack, are you and Camille all right up there?” Simon’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs.
Zack laughed mirthlessly and called back bitterly, “Yes, we’re fine. The lights are back on.”
“Okay, I was just checking.” They heard Simon’s footsteps recede back into the room below and again there was silence in the attic except for their labored breathing and the rain overhead.
Camille shyly raised her eyes to meet Zack’s sneer. “Congratulations, Camille. You have been saved from another of my ravishings.” She was hurt by the coldness in his voice, but she didn’t speak as he turned toward the descending staircase. He paused and looked toward her. “This time,” he said before his head disappeared beyond the first steps.
Five
That evening at dinner Camille learned that Zack had gone to Kentucky for a few days to look at a stud farm and talk to a hose breeder who had enjoyed great success in the field.
Rayburn told her, “I tried to dissuade him from going in this weather, but he was adamant. He can be very mule-headed sometimes.” The older man smiled at her. “I guess he feels like he couldn’t do much at the plantation with these heavy rains. Did you have any luck in the attic?” he asked.
Camille tried to hide the abashment any reminder of that morning in the attic brought to mind. She winced as she remembered Zack’s departing scornful expression and harsh words, but she collected herself and answered as excitedly as she could. “Yes. I found some crystal that I think will look lovely on the sideboards here in the dining room. A chaise longue could be used in one of the bedrooms if it were recovered and refinished. There was a tea table that I think will go nicely in the parlor. Some of the other things I found, I’m reserving judgment on.” She picked at her food and really wasn’t interested in the conversation, though manners drilled into her by Martha Jameson forbade her showing it.
Rayburn was apparently aware of her mood, for he asked solicitously, “Do you not feel well, Camille?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott. You must forgive my moodiness. I think that the rainy day has gotten to me, and I’m homesick,” she lied convincingly. He seemed satisfied with her answer, though when she looked up at him, his blue eyes, which weren’t as startling a hue as Zack’s, were piercing her with a shrewd stare. Did he know more about what was going on around him than he let on?
He reached across the table and patted her hand. “Camille, I understand that and hope the mood will pass quickly. Is there anything I can do?”
His kindness and sincerity were too much for her shattered emotions, and, to her horror, she burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she rose from the table. “I think I’ll go to the dowager house and go to bed.” Before he could reply, she fled from the room.
She spent a restless night, tossing and turning and waiting for elusive sleep. But when sleep finally came, she had disturbing dreams of Zack. How could one man be so tender and loving one moment and so bitter and hateful the next? How could he reduce her to a powerless chattel in his arms and then act as if it had been her idea, her fault? His being gone for these next few days was a blessing. Why then was she so abysmally unhappy to know that he wasn’t around?
He haunted her. He tormented her. It wasn’t fair! He had been in the background of her mind for the past two years, and now he was in the forefront, and the constant reminder of their affair in Snow Bird was torturous. Why did he kiss her so ardently when he felt such strong contempt for her? She was a fool to stay and subject herself to this mental cruelty. But with characteristic candor, she asked herself if it wouldn’t be worse to leave now and never see Zack Prescott again. Truthfully, she admitted that it would.
With a long shuddering sigh, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
When she saw Rayburn the next morning, he didn’t comment on the dark circles under her eyes or her pale cheeks. She apologized for her juvenile behavior the night before and tried to laugh it off, but knew for certain that the sensitive old man could see through her ruse.
Immediately after breakfast, she started to work on the banister. After a dark residue, left by years of palms being dragged down it, had been lightly scraped away, it needed to be polished to its former patina. It was a messy job and required hours of long, tedious work. Just what I need, thought Camille, to get my mind off my problems. She tackled the chore wearing her oldest pair of jeans, her hair tied back with a scarf.
The banister took two full days of effort to complete to her satisfaction, but despite Rayburn’s urgings to get some help for it, she refused his offer and chose to do it all herself.
After work on the banister was finished, and its wood shone with a warm glow, she started working on the floors. Even though most of the floor space in each room would be covered by heirloom area rugs, Camille felt that the wood beneath them needed to be sanded and revarnished. She had contracted the O’Malleys, a father and son team, to do this atrocious, seemingly overwhelming task.
When the O’Malleys arrived for the first day’s work, Camille was immediately pleased with them and glad that Rayburn had recommended them. For a man his age, Sean O’Malley moved with alacrity and proceeded to go about his work with the enthusiasm of a man half his age. Rick O’Malley was about Zack’s age. His sandy hair and bright brown eyes, along with a ready smile and teasing manner, made him instantly likable. He flirted with Camille shamelessly, but in such an agreeable way, that she was helpless to resist it. She teased and flirted back, and the long hours of hard work, which she insisted on sharing, passed quickly over the next several days.
Though shorter than Zack, Rick had a muscularly compact body that worked with as much energy and agility as that of his father. He chatted easily with Dearly, Simon, and Rayburn whenever they came into the room in which he was working, but even after days of listening to his bantering, Camille realized that he rarely talked about himself. She noticed, too, that frequently there was a poignancy or sadness around his eyes that would momentarily overshadow his merry face. He was quick to hide it if he caught anyone watching him.
One afternoon as they were about to leave, she escorted them out to the front porch. Sean O’Malley walked toward their truck parked in the driveway, but Rick held back and somewhat shyly asked Camille if she would go out with him that Friday night.
