Tears of the Renegade Read Online Free PDF Page A

me, and I won’t snub him.”
    He gave a rueful smile at her firm, reasonable tone. “I’ve heard that voice in enough board meetings over the past five years to know you’ve dug in your heels and won’t budge without a good reason. But you don’t know what he’s like. You’re a lady; you’ve never been exposed to the sort of things that are commonplace to him. He’s lived the life of an alley cat, not because he had no choice, no way out, but because he preferred that type of life. He broke his mother’s heart, making her so ashamed of him that he wasn’t welcome in her home.”
    â€œExactly what did he do that was so terrible?” Deliberately, she kept her tone light, not wanting Preston to see how deeply she was interested in the answer, how deeply she was disturbed by Cord Blackstone.
    â€œWhat didn’t he do?” Sarcasm edged Preston’s answer. “Fights, drinking, women, gambling…but the final straw was the scandal when he was caught with Grant Keller’s wife.”
    Susan choked. Grant Keller was dignity personified, andso was his wife. Preston looked at her and couldn’t prevent a grin. “Not this Mrs. Keller; the former Mrs. Keller was entirely different. She was thirty-six, and Cord was twenty-one when they left town together.”
    â€œThat was a long time ago,” Susan pointed out.
    â€œFourteen years, but people have long memories. I saw Grant Keller’s face when he recognized Cord tonight, and he looked murderous.”
    Susan was certain there was more to the story, but she was reluctant to pry any deeper. The old scandal in no way explained Preston’s very personal hatred for Cord. For right now, though, she was suddenly very tired and didn’t want to pursue the subject. All the excitement that had lit her up while she was dancing with Cord had faded. Rising, she smoothed her skirt. “Will you take me home? I’m exhausted.”
    â€œOf course,” he said immediately, as she had known he would. Preston was entirely predictable, always solicitous of her. At times, the cushion of gallantry that protected her gave her a warm sense of security, but at other times she felt restricted. Tonight, the feeling of restriction deepened until she felt as if she were being smothered. She wanted to breathe freely, to be unobserved.
    It was only a fifteen-minute drive to her home, and soon she was blessedly alone, sitting on the dark front porch in the wooden porch swing, listening to the music of a Southern night. She had waited until Preston left before she came out to sit in the darkness, her right foot gently pushing her back and forth to the accompanying squeak of the chains that held the swing. A light breeze rustled through the trees and kissed her face, and she closed her eyes. As she often did, she tried to summon up Vance’s face, to reassure herself with the mental picture of his violet-blue eyes and lopsided grin, but to her alarm, the face that formed wasn’t his. Instead she sawpale blue eyes above the short black beard of a desperado; they were the reckless eyes of a man who dared anything. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the touch of his warm mouth on her shoulder, and her skin tingled as if his lips were still pressed there.
    Thank heavens she had had the good sense to ask Preston to bring her home instead of going with that man as he had asked. Preston was at least safe, and Cord Blackstone had probably never heard the word.

Chapter Two
    T he Blackstone social circle ranged in a sort of open arc from Mobile to New Orleans, with the Gulfport-Biloxi area as the center of their far-flung web of moneyed and blue-blooded acquaintances. With such a wide area and so many friends of such varied interests, Susan was amazed that the sole topic of conversation seemed to be Cord Blackstone’s return. She lost count of the number of women, many of them married, who drilled