AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Camille opened her mouth in surprise at the sarcastic remark and then her eyes took on the golden glow of a cat who recognizes an adversary and the hair on the back of her neck crawled with aversion for Zack’s lady friend.
Camille had to admit that Erica Hazelett was a flamboyantly beautiful creature. All the details of her appearance that had escaped Camille last night she took account of now. Her hair was blond, too blond not to have been helped by a weekly rinse. Her eyes were a cool blue, but reflected no depth, no human warmth. She had a long, aristocratic nose between two finely arched brows, and her mouth was wide and sensual. She was tall and thin, with a model’s boyish figure, and all of her movements were practiced and languid. She never wasted a movement, Camille realized, as she watched Erica fit herself closely to Zack’s body and brush away nonexistent lint from the lapels of his jean jacket. These displays of familiarity stung Camille, and it was only her resolve not to let the woman intimidate her that gave her the courage to stand by and watch Erica fondle Zack.
She was speaking in low, cajoling tones. “Zack, darling, please come with me. I tried to call you earlier, but your servant told me that you were out with Miss… what was it again? Oh, never mind. I’ll forgive you for not being here when I called if you’ll come to the party tonight.”
Camille was fuming at Erica’s condescending attitude toward her. And calling Simon or Dearly, whichever one she was referring to, a servant! The woman was a snob of the worst sort. Besides being beautiful and obviously sexy, what did Zack see in her? She was so shallow, she was virtually transparent.
“Where is the dinner party being held?” Zack asked in a listless voice.
“Oh, I knew you’d come, Zack!” cried Erica before she raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It’s at Melrose, darling, and it’s black tie, of course.”
“Of course,” Zack said dryly.
“You’ll need to pick me up about seven. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice, but the hostess called me in a panic this morning. One of her eligible males canceled out, and she was left with an empty table setting. I told her I was sure I could coax you into escorting me, but at the same time told her to reassure any unattached females there that you were definitely not ‘eligible.’ ”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Erica,” Zack warned, but Erica seemed not at all disturbed by his lack of humor.
“Oh, you tease,” she admonished as she tapped his chest with a long, manicured finger. “I’ll see you at seven, darling.” After giving Zack another quick kiss on his cheek and ignoring Camille, she climbed into her sports car and sped out the drive.
“Nice car,” Camille cooed cattily before she went up the steps to the front porch. She could hear Zack’s mumbled curses as he followed her across the warped boards to the door.
* * *
It was very late that night when Zack came home. Camille wouldn’t have admitted to anyone that she had been unable to sleep until she heard the low throb of his Lincoln’s motor as he drove it into the garage.
What had he and Erica been doing until this ungodly hour of the morning? All the joy she had felt over their closeness and the shared intimacy earlier in the day had faded at the sight of the sophisticated Erica and the way she fawned over Zack with apparent results. Hadn’t he agreed to go to a dinner party on short notice only because Erica asked him to? And only moments after kissing her with breathtaking abandon! Was he always so acquiescent to Erica’s desires? What had he been about to say when Erica’s arrival had interrupted him? Was he in love with that superficial, silly woman? If he wasn’t, what had kept him in her company until three-thirty in the morning?
She chased these questions through her mind until sheer exhaustion forced her into a restless sleep.
Six
Camille accepted Rayburn’s invitation to accompany him to church. She sat beside him in his accustomed pew and tried not to nod sleepily through the sermon. Zack, of course, had not come with them, and she resented the fact that she had been unable to sleep until she heard him come home. He was sleeping late this morning without a care in the world, while she was suffering because of his late date with Erica Hazelett.
When they returned home, Zack was in the parlor amidst the sheet-shrouded furniture and sanded woodwork, surrounded by naked walls stripped of paper. He sat in the only uncovered chair, one foot resting on his other knee, drinking a cup of coffee while reading the Sunday sports page.
“Good morning,” he called to them as they came in from the hall. “If you can find a chair, have a seat.” He laughed affably, and Camille seethed over his civility. Why couldn’t he feel cranky and out of sorts as she did?
“Good morning, son. Are there any good football games being shown on television this afternoon?” Rayburn asked as he deposited his hat and coat on a halltree.
“Yeah, a couple of them. I need to drive out to the plantation right after lunch, but I’ll be back in time to watch at least the second half with you.”
“Fine,” beamed Rayburn, and Camille suddenly felt neglected and out of place in this male-dominated household. What was she doing here anyway? How had all of this come to pass? When had she lost control of her life?
Then her eyes met Zack’s for the first time that day. She was shocking to see that his gaze on her was intent, the blue eyes looking at her with an undisguised warmth.
“How are you this morning, Camille?” The confidential tone of voice he used made it seem as if they were alone in the room, in the world. It was soft and gentle and caressing. He had his nerve to act so tender toward her when he had stayed in Erica’s company until three-thirty this morning!
“I feel great,” she asserted with emphasis.
She saw him take note of the shadows under her eyes and the hollows under her high cheekbones, and Camille knew that her haggard appearance belied her confident words.
Zack was trying to hide a smile as he said simply, “Good.”
She turned her back on his smirking face and went to the piano in the other half of
the large room. Taking off the dust cover, she sat down on the bench and played memorized tunes until Dearly announced that lunch was ready.
Camille had learned from previous weeks that Sunday luncheon was an event and that it was the only big meal on that day. On Sunday evenings, everyone was more or less on their own to eat leftovers or make themselves a snack. Today was no different. The table was loaded with food. There was a platter of golden fried chicken, a bowl of creamy potatoes, various salads, two vegetable casseroles, a gravy boat full of the rich sauce, and a chocolate cake for dessert.
