Read Online Shades of Twilight by Linda Howard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Howard
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made her way back over the hill and through the stand of pine trees to where she had tethered Buckley. He blew a soft greeting and shoved his nose at her. Obediently she stroked the big head, scratching behind his ears, but her mind wasnât on what she was doing. She mounted him and quietly walked him away from the scene of Jessieâs adultery, heading back to the stables. Misery weighed heavily on her thin shoulders.
She couldnât understand what sheâd seen. How could any woman, even Jessie, not be satisfied with Webb? Roannaâs childhood hero worship had only intensified in the ten years she had been living at Davencourt. At seventeen, she was painfully aware of other womenâs response to him, so sheknew it wasnât just her opinion. Women stared at Webb with unconscious, or maybe not so unconscious, yearning in their eyes. Roanna tried not to look at him that way, but she knew she wasnât always successful, because Jessie sometimes said something sharp to her about mooning around Webb and making a pest of herself. She couldnât help it. Every time she saw him, it was as if her heart gave a great big leap before starting to beat so fast that sometimes she couldnât breathe, and she would get warm and tingly all over. Lack of oxygen, most likely. She didnât think love caused tingles.
Because she did love him, so much, in a way Jessie never would or could.
Webb. His dark hair and cool green eyes, the slow grin that made her dizzy with delight. The tall, muscled body that made her go both hot and cold, as if she had a fever, that particular reaction had been bothering her for a couple of years now, and it got worse whenever she watched him swimming and he was wearing only those tight brief trunks. His deep, lazy voice, and the way he scowled at everyone until heâd had his morning coffee. He was only twenty-four, but he ran Davencourt, and even Grandmother listened to him. When he was displeased, his green eyes would get so cold that they looked like glacier ice, and the laziness of his tone would abruptly vanish, leaving his words clipped and cutting.
She knew his moods, how he looked when he was tired, how he liked his laundry done. She knew his favorite foods, his favorite colors, which professional sports teams he liked, what made him laugh, what made him frown. She knew what he read, how he voted. For ten years she had absorbed every little detail about him, turning toward him like a shy little violet reaching for the light. Since her parents had died, Webb had been both her defender and her confidant. It was to him that she had poured out all her childish fears and fantasies, he who had comforted her after nightmares or when she felt so alone and frightened.
But for all her love, she had never had a chance with himand she knew it. It had always been Jessie. That was what hurt most of all, that she could offer herself to him body and soul, and he would still have married Jessie. Jessie, who sometimes seemed to hate him. Jessie, who was unfaithful.
Tears burned Roannaâs eyes, and she dashed them away. There was no point in crying about it, though she couldnât help resenting it.
From the time she and Jessie had come to live at Davencourt, Webb had watched Jessie with a cool, possessive look in his eyes. Jessie had dated other boys, and he had dated other girls, but it was as if he allowed her only so much rope, and when she reached the end of it, he would haul her back in. He had been in control of their relationship from the start. Webb was the one man Jessie had never been able to wrap around her finger or intimidate with her temper. A single word from him could make her back down, a feat even Grandmother couldnât match.
Roannaâs only hope had been that Jessie would refuse to marry him, but that hope had been so slim as to be almost nonexistent. Once Grandmother had announced that Webb would inherit Davencourt itself plus her own share of the
She couldnât understand what sheâd seen. How could any woman, even Jessie, not be satisfied with Webb? Roannaâs childhood hero worship had only intensified in the ten years she had been living at Davencourt. At seventeen, she was painfully aware of other womenâs response to him, so sheknew it wasnât just her opinion. Women stared at Webb with unconscious, or maybe not so unconscious, yearning in their eyes. Roanna tried not to look at him that way, but she knew she wasnât always successful, because Jessie sometimes said something sharp to her about mooning around Webb and making a pest of herself. She couldnât help it. Every time she saw him, it was as if her heart gave a great big leap before starting to beat so fast that sometimes she couldnât breathe, and she would get warm and tingly all over. Lack of oxygen, most likely. She didnât think love caused tingles.
Because she did love him, so much, in a way Jessie never would or could.
Webb. His dark hair and cool green eyes, the slow grin that made her dizzy with delight. The tall, muscled body that made her go both hot and cold, as if she had a fever, that particular reaction had been bothering her for a couple of years now, and it got worse whenever she watched him swimming and he was wearing only those tight brief trunks. His deep, lazy voice, and the way he scowled at everyone until heâd had his morning coffee. He was only twenty-four, but he ran Davencourt, and even Grandmother listened to him. When he was displeased, his green eyes would get so cold that they looked like glacier ice, and the laziness of his tone would abruptly vanish, leaving his words clipped and cutting.
She knew his moods, how he looked when he was tired, how he liked his laundry done. She knew his favorite foods, his favorite colors, which professional sports teams he liked, what made him laugh, what made him frown. She knew what he read, how he voted. For ten years she had absorbed every little detail about him, turning toward him like a shy little violet reaching for the light. Since her parents had died, Webb had been both her defender and her confidant. It was to him that she had poured out all her childish fears and fantasies, he who had comforted her after nightmares or when she felt so alone and frightened.
But for all her love, she had never had a chance with himand she knew it. It had always been Jessie. That was what hurt most of all, that she could offer herself to him body and soul, and he would still have married Jessie. Jessie, who sometimes seemed to hate him. Jessie, who was unfaithful.
Tears burned Roannaâs eyes, and she dashed them away. There was no point in crying about it, though she couldnât help resenting it.
From the time she and Jessie had come to live at Davencourt, Webb had watched Jessie with a cool, possessive look in his eyes. Jessie had dated other boys, and he had dated other girls, but it was as if he allowed her only so much rope, and when she reached the end of it, he would haul her back in. He had been in control of their relationship from the start. Webb was the one man Jessie had never been able to wrap around her finger or intimidate with her temper. A single word from him could make her back down, a feat even Grandmother couldnât match.
Roannaâs only hope had been that Jessie would refuse to marry him, but that hope had been so slim as to be almost nonexistent. Once Grandmother had announced that Webb would inherit Davencourt itself plus her own share of the
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