Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

between you and that Cal Dennison!" he almost shouted.

"Yes, it was," I admitted. "But you would never understand how it came about, even if you were generous enough to give me the chance to explain."

As he stood in the snow that was falling harder now, he seemed very strong, with his jawline set in a firm, determined way, so his cheek dimple no longer played hide-and-seek. His clean-cut good looks caused many a female passerby to pause and look at him twice . . . and he was staring at me with a stranger's uninterest.

The cold wind hissed around the corners of buildings and whistled to the ground with buffeting force, causing his hair to-fan wild in the wind. My own hair was lifted and blown forward. I found myself breathing fast and hard, wanting so much to win his approval again. Just to be so near his strength and goodness made me realize how very much I needed him. I craved with a terrible yearning to have his love again, his warmth and his caring, for he had loved me well when I was a nobody, a nothing, and with him I didn't have to pretend to be more than what I was. "Heaven, it was sweet of you to call me. I've been wanting to do that every time I thought of you. I drove by your Farthinggale Manor once, just the gates, and they so impressed me I lost my nerve and turned around."

Then he was seeing me, really seeing me. Incredulity flashed through his eyes, lighting them briefly with pleasure. "You look so different," he said, moving his arms as if to embrace me, before his arms dropped to his sides and his hands found their way into his pockets, as if they'd found a safe, confining harbor.

"I hope it's for the better."

He looked me over with so much disapproval, I began to tremble slightly. What had I done wrong?

"You look so rich, too rich," he answered slowly. "You've changed your hairstyle and you're wearing makeup."

What was wrong with him? None of my "improvements" seemed to make him happy. "You look like one of those models on magazine covers."

And that was bad? I tried to smile. "Oh, Logan, I have so much to tell you! You look terrific!" The snow began to freeze my face. Specks of fluffy white caught in his hair and in mine, and touched the tip of my nose with cold. "Isn't there somewhere we can sit and talk, where it's comfortable and warm, and maybe then you won't glare at me like you are doing now." I kept making small talk as he led me inside to a table where we ordered hot chocolate. I noticed the girl he had been with continued to glare at us. But I ignored her, and so did Logan.

He was moving his eyes over my fur coat, noticing the gold chains I wore at my throat, seeing the rings on my fingers as I pulled off my fine leather gloves.

I tried to smile. "Logan," I began with my eyes lowered, determined to keep my expectations high, "can't we let bygones be bygones and start again, fresh?"

It took him a long time to reply, as if he were struggling to free himself from some past resolution he'd made, and every second I spent with him brought back flooding memories of how sweet our youth had been because we had had each other. Oh, if only I'd never allowed Cal Dennison to touch me! If only I'd been stronger, wiser, more knowledgeable about men and their physical desires! Maybe then I could have held off an older man who was basically weak, and wrong to have taken advantage of a stupid young hillbilly.

"I don't know," he finally said in a slow, hesitant way. "I can't stop thinking of how easily you forgot me and our vows to one another once you were out of sight."

"Please try harder!" I implored. "I didn't know at the time what I was getting into, and I felt trapped by circumstances that I couldn't control--"

His stubborn jaw set in a hard line. "Somehow, seeing you as you are today, wearing expensive jewelry and that fur coat, you don't seem the same girl I used to know. I don't know how to relate to you now, Heaven. You don't seem vulnerable anymore, you seem like you don't really need anyone, or anything."

My heart contracted. What he saw was only surface confidence given to me by expensive clothes and jewelry. Scratch the surface and the hill-scum Casteel girl would still be there. And then it hit me what he was really getting at.

He had liked me better when I was pitiful! He had been drawn to my vulnerability, my poverty, my ugly, faded dresses and shabby shoes! The strengths I'd believed he admired most about me weren't even important to him now!

I fixed my eyes on his deep maroon sweater, for some reason wondering if he still had that awful red knit cap I'd made for him once. I felt that again circumstances were beyond my control, and yet I couldn't give up so easily.

"Logan," I began again, "I'm living with my real mother's mother now. She is as different from Granny as night is from day. I never knew

grandmothers in their middle years could look so young and not only pretty, but glamorous."

"This grandmother lives in a different world than the one you knew in the Willies." How quickly he formed his opinion, as if never in doubt about anyone or anything. Then, finally, he picked up his mug and sipped. "And how do you like your grandfather?" he asked. "Is he young and fabulously handsome as well?"

I tried to ignore his sarcasm. "Tony Tatterton isn't really my grandfather, Logan, but my

grandmother's second husband. My mother's father died two years ago. I'm sorry I never had a chance to know him."

His deep blue eyes took on an abstracted look, his gaze still lingering somewhere behind my head. "I saw you one day in mid-September, out shopping with an older man who held your elbow and guided you where he wanted you to go. I wanted to call out and tell you I was there, but I couldn't. I stupidly followed the two of you for a while, and watched through the shop windows as you endlessly tried on different outfits and modeled them for that man. It stunned me how what you wore changed your appearance. And not only that, I was stunned by the changes it made in you! Everything new he bought for you brought on laughter, smiles, and the kind of happiness I'd never seen on your face before. Heaven, I had no idea that young-looking man could be your grandfather. Jealously was all I could feel. When I loved you and planned for our future together, I wanted to be the one to put joy in your eyes and the glow on your face."

"But I needed the warm coats he bought me, the boots, the shoes. And the fur coats I have are second hand, given to me by Jillian, who grows quickly bored with clothes and everything else. I don't have as much as you think I do. And it's not so wonderful at Farthy. My grandmother hardly even talks to me!"

Logan leaned closer, riveting me with his hard glare. "But the step-grandfather is delighted to have you around, isn't he? I could tell that by his manner that day I saw-the two of you shopping. He got as much kick out of those new clothes as you did!"

It alarmed me the way he looked, so fiercely jealous. "You watch out for him, Heaven. Remember what happened when you lived in Candlewick with Kitty Dennison and her husband; it could happen again."

I felt my eyes go huge and round with the pain of his surprise attack. How could he think that? Tony wasn't the least like Cal! Tony didn't need me for a companion while his wife worked late hours. Tony had a full, rich life, busy with vacations and business and hundreds of friends delighted to entertain him and Jillian. Yet I could tell that Logan would refuse io believe me if I pointed out these facts. My head moved from side to side, rejecting his suspicions, angry that he had them. Disappointed that he couldn't forgive and forget, and not trust me as he used to.

"Do you still hear from him?" he shot out, his eyes narrowed.