Affair of the Heart by Joan Wolf Read Free Book Online

exactly nearby. But I always flew out to spend Christmas with him and Nancy, no matter where they were.”
    “Big of him,” Jay said sarcastically.
    She refused to be drawn. “I didn’t mind. I had my grandmother. She’s the one who raised me, really.”
    “Your father’s mother?”
    “Yes. She died two years ago.”
    “I see.”
    Caroline looked back at the lake. For the first time it occurred to her that some people might find her upbringing unusual. It hadn’t seemed at all odd to her up until now. The girls she had gone to school with were mainly from broken families, and most of their lives had been as nomadic as hers. They lived at school and on vacation went to a vast variety of residences. Home had been wherever they happened to be at present. Caroline’s life, in fact, had been one of the more stable.
    “Most people don’t stay in the same place for very long anymore,” she said confusedly, trying to explain.
    “Most Eastern people,” he said.
    She bit her lip, feeling on the defensive suddenly. “How long has your family been in Wyoming?” she asked.
    “My great-grandfather came out here from Scotland,” he told her. “He was a younger son and came to America to make his fortune. He built the Double Diamond.” His profile was shadowy in the starlight. “There were no fences in those days,” he went on musingly. “The range was for those who ran cattle on it. And cattle thrive here. There’s no grass in the world like Wyoming grass, you know. It’s like a miracle. Every spring, another miracle springing out of the earth. The green grass of Wyoming.” His voice was soft, reverent even.
    Caroline was oddly stirred by his words and remained silent. He seemed to come out of his own reverie. “Anyway,” he concluded, “the Hamiltons have been here since before Wyoming became a state. Our roots go pretty deep.”
    “Yes,” said Caroline softly. “I can see they do.” She cleared her throat. “The Carrutherses were planters before the war,” she volunteered. Caroline was Southern enough that when she spoke of “the war” it could only refer to one. “They fought for the South and lost everything, of course. Then, being essentially survivors, they decided if you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em, and went to work for the government.” A breeze had sprung up and was blowing her hair around her face. She pushed it back. “My grandfather was a Treasury Secretary, and he built Pemberly, our house near Middleburgh. But Daddy doesn’t get much chance to stay there. His job takes him all over the world.”
    “Do you live at Pemberly?” A strand of long blond hair blew against his cheek, and he said, a little harshly, “Don’t you have a ribbon or something?”
    “Not in my pocket.” She tucked her hair underneath the crew neck of her sweater. “I have an apartment in Washington,” she said then composedly. “I go down to Pemberly weekends during the winter. To hunt.”
    He grunted. “I couldn’t stand living in an apartment. I’d suffocate.”
    “You probably would,” she agreed, her husky voice very soft, “if you’re used to this.” The wind was blowing harder now, and she shivered.
    He rose to his feet with fluid grace. “It’s getting cold. You’d better get back into your sleeping bag.”
    “Yes,” she said, and stood up also. Her foot had gone to sleep, and she stumbled a little, instinctively reaching out for support. Her hand closed on his forearm. “Sorry,” she murmured, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft, well-washed flannel.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Yes.” She looked up into his face, and it was there between them again, that unmistakable electricity. For a wild moment she thought he was going to pull her into his arms, and then he stepped back, gesturing to her to precede him. She did, wordlessly. As she lay, sleepless, in the warmth of her sleeping bag, Caroline knew she would have gone into his arms like a shot if he had made the motion. She was