Forbidden Affair Read online

  Forbidden Affair

  By

  Patti Beckman

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Suddenly, the Game Turned into a Duel

  Their eyes met, and an electric current shot through Jacquelyn. Scott's blue eyes searched her face, but their intensity penetrated deeper into her being. What was it Scott wanted to know? She wanted nothing more than to grant any request he would make of her. Her heart had stopped in her chest, and her blood had halted in her veins, because she felt sure Scott was going to kiss her. Her soul longed for his embrace. She was caught up in a magic spell of enchantment that she wanted to last forever.

  PATTI BECKMAN's interesting locales and spirited characters will thoroughly delight her reading audience. She lives with her husband Charles and their young daughter along the coast of Texas.

  Dear Reader,

  Silhouette has always tried to give you exactly what you want. When you asked for increased realism, deeper characterization and greater length, we brought you Silhouette Special Editions. When you asked for increased sensuality, we brought you Silhouette Desire. Now you ask for books with the length and depth of Special Editions, the sensuality of Desire, but with something else besides, something that no one else offers. Now we bring you SILHOUETTE INTIMATE MOMENTS, true romance novels, longer than the usual, with all the depth that length requires. More sensuous than the usual, with characters whose maturity matches that sensuality. Books with the ingredient no one else has tapped: excitement.

  There is an electricity between two people in love that makes everything they do magic, larger than life—and this is what we bring you in SILHOUETTE INTIMATE MOMENTS. Look for them wherever you buy books.

  These books are for the woman who wants more than she has ever had before. These books are for you. As always, we look forward to your comments and suggestions. You can write to me at the address below:

  Karen Solem

  Editor-in-Chief

  Silhouette Books

  P.O. Box

  New York, N.Y. 10019

  Copyright © 1983 by Patti Beckman

  ISBN: 0-671-57227-X

  First Silhouette Books printing June, 1983

  Other Silhouette Books by Patti Beckman

  Captive Heart

  The Beachcomber

  Louisiana Lady

  Angry Lover

  Love's Treacherous Journey

  Spotlight to Fame

  Bitter Victory

  Daring Encounter

  Mermaid's Touch

  Tender Deception

  Enchanted Surrender

  Chapter One

  The evening was muggy with a humidity peculiar to New Orleans early in summer, when gathering tropical storms in the Gulf of Mexico bring an ominous weight to the air. Rain began to fall at sundown, glistening on the broad leaves of banana trees in the ancient flagstoned courtyards of the Vieux Carre. It sizzled on shingled rooftops and brought steam swirling up from the narrow streets that were still hot from the day's sun.

  The night life of the French Quarter was beginning as Jacquelyn La Salle walked from the broad, twentieth-century bustle of Canal Street into the historic setting of the Old World. Tables at Arnaud's and Galatorie's were becoming crowded. Neon illuminated dripping seventeenth-century balconies and iron grillwork where, in another century, gaslights had dispelled the darkness. The rain spattered on the cobblestones. A horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped by on the wet pavement. A few blocks over, on Bourbon Street, a jazz band was playing its first number of the evening.

  As Jacquelyn stepped from the curb, her thoughts and attention drawn to the surrounding architecture, she heard the squeal of brakes. Smoking rubber clawed at the street wildly. From the corner of her eye she caught a flashing glimpse of a deadly mechanical monster bearing down on her.

  Some primitive instinct, operating a split second before conscious thought, caused her to leap back, taking a glancing blow instead of the full, deadly impact of the black automobile that had threatened to snuff out her life instantaneously.

  In the quiet hours close to dawn, Jacquelyn regained consciousness briefly in the room of a hospital. She heard a soft moan and then realized it was her own voice. The white cap of a nurse appeared. Her smile was comforting.

  "You're all right—just fine…" the voice said reassuringly.

  The pain came in a rushing throb. "I don't feel just fine." Jacquelyn moaned louder this time. A needle stung her arm before soft euphoria and sleep overcame her once again.

  The next time she awoke, the room was lighter. Jacquelyn saw others in the room beside the nurse. A man in a white medic jacket, a doctor type, stood over her. At the perimeter of her vision. Standing a respectful distance from her bed was another man, a police type, she guessed.

  The doctor was smiling cheerfully. Go ahead and smile, Jacquelyn thought crossly; you're not lying here hurting and all broken up. He said, "Well, Miss La Salle, for a young lady who got run over last night, you're in remarkably good shape. You don't have any broken bones that we can find. There are countless bruises, of course, and a slight concussion. The car must have struck you a glancing blow. You'll have to stay in bed for several days and you're going to be sore as a boil for a week or two, but then you'll be fine as new."

  Jacquelyn felt the soreness radiating throughout her entire body. She tried to shift her position in the bed, but the sharp stabs of pain halted her movements. "Un naufroge," she mumbled.

  "What?"

  "My father was Acadian," she explained. "That's an old bayou Cajun saying. Means an auto or buggy wreck. I guess it popped into my mind because the car made a wreck out of me."

  The policeman moved closer to the bed. "Do you feel like talking, Miss La Salle?" he asked.

  Jacquelyn was immediately sorry that she had encouraged him by her feeble attempt at levity. "No," she said frankly.

  "Well, I just wanted to ask you if you could give us any kind of description of the car that hit you."

  A vague memory flashed in Jacquelyn's mind. She recalled stepping off the curb, but the vision of the car roaring down on her was a hazy blur of anxiety overshadowed by a blissful obscurity that had wiped from her mind any recall of the terrible incident.

  She shook her head, and then groaned when even that slight movement sent pain racing through her body. "I take it you don't know who ran me down?" she said.

  "Hit-and-run. I'm Lieutenant Davidson of the traffic division. We don't have much to go on, I'm afraid, if you didn't see the car."

  Jacquelyn struggled to pull herself from her lethargy. It made her mad that someone could assault her body and leave her lying along the street for dead and not even stop to render aid. What kind of person hit a pedestrian and then fled from the scene?

  "No other witnesses?" Jacquelyn asked. "There were people behind me on the sidewalk…"

  "They were some distance back, looking in a window of an antique shop. By the time they realized what happened, the car was disappearing down the street. A heavy black sedan, they thought. That's about all we know."

  A wave of bitter disappointment rushed over Jacquelyn. She closed her eyes. She really didn't feel like discussing it.

  The policeman got the hint and went away.

  Jacquelyn slept for a while. Then the nurse woke her for lunch, which consisted of a bland soft-boiled egg, toast and Jell-O. Although her appetite had deserted her, Jacqueline forced down a few bites under the watchful eye of the nurse.

  When the tray h
ad been moved away, the nurse cranked Jacquelyn's bed up higher and announced, "You have a visitor. Shall I let him come in now? The doctor says it will be all right if you promise to go back to sleep afterward."

  "Yes," Jacquelyn said. She felt sure it would be Austin D'Raulde—dear, faithful Austin, friend since childhood, and in love with her nearly that long. She looked around her for a mirror, hoping to find out what she looked like before Austin saw her. Then she recalled that the top of the hospital table usually had a place for cosmetics and a movable mirror. She flipped back the lid and gasped when she saw the dark circles under her large blue eyes. She ran her hand over her long brown hair to smooth it out into its usual straight style, but a few strands refused to lay flat. Well, she thought, what did she expect? She didn't really look too bad, considering she had recently been struck down by a hit and run driver.

  The nurse whipped out the door, and then Austin came in with a rush, his arms loaded with flowers. His handsome dark features were deeply lined. His eyes looked almost frantic with worry. He gave Jacquelyn a long, troubled look.

  "Austin, for heaven's sake," Jacquelyn said, trying for his sake to sound more cheerful than she felt, "it's not that bad. The doctor said I'd live."

  Austin set the flowers down and took Jacquelyn's hand in his. He gripped her knuckles tightly. For a second, he was almost too choked up to speak. Then he said, "They found your identification in your purse and notified your Uncle Luther, and, of course, he called me right away."

  "And you rushed up from Cypress Halls," Jacquelyn said softly, feeling a sudden rush of warmth for Austin.

  "Of course." He glanced around the room. "Is there anything you need, Jacquelyn? Anything I can do?"

  Jacquelyn shook her head, unable to speak the words. She experienced a sudden pang of guilt. Austin had always been so faithful, so loyal. It was obvious he cared for her. Why couldn't she feel the same way about him?

  There was an awkward silence. "Uncle Luther and Hattie send their love," Austin went on. "They're pretty upset, as you can imagine. I'll call them right away and let them know how you are."

  "Thank you, Austin," Jacquelyn said gratefully. It wasn't until this moment that she had thought about how concerned Uncle Luther and Hattie must be for her. They had been at home, thinking she was going about her normal duties, when a sudden phone call announced she had been the victim of a hit-and-run accident. They could not really know her true condition. They must have been terribly worried. "Tell them I'm coming along just fine," she said.

  "Yes, I'll reassure them," Austin said. But his dark eyes looked deeply worried as he gazed at her. Then he turned to leave. "I'll be right back," he said. "I'm going to phone them now."

  "I'm not going anywhere," Jacquelyn reminded him.

  Austin gave her one last look before the door closed behind him. Jacquelyn rested back against the pillows on her bed. This was the first time in a long while that she had had time just to lie and think. Her schedule had been quite busy of late. But almost being killed in an unexpected accident gave one a different perspective on life. It seemed like a perfect time to review what she was doing and where she was headed.

  She thought back over her relationship with Austin. He was her age, twenty-four, slender, wiry, with the dark good looks of his Creole French ancestry. He had been taken care of by her Uncle Luther after his father died. He had been educated at Tulane, had spent time in the army and now worked for Uncle Luther as his business manager.

  Austin was an integral part of Jacquelyn's life as surely as was the bayou country of southern Louisiana where she had been born and had spent her childhood. She recalled some of the Cajun sayings of her father; the spicy Creole cooking of Hattie, Uncle Luther's maid, who had helped raise her; the legends of the Old South aristocracy on her Uncle Luther's side of the family; the superstitions and folklore of the bayou people. The whole of her past swirled in her mind like a huge cloud. And then her heart suddenly stopped when a face flashed in her memory—unruly light brown hair, blue eyes set in strong features. It was the face of Scott McCrann.

  The door opened, breaking into her reverie, and Austin reentered the room.

  "I told him you were on the mend," Austin said, smiling for the first time. "He seemed greatly relieved. He wouldn't take the doctor's word for your condition. He wanted to hear from me how you really are."

  "That's just like Uncle Luther," Jacquelyn commented, smiling.

  Austin edged over to the bed. Gently, he placed his hand over Jacquelyn's. She looked down at her covered hand lying on the bed sheet. She wasn't sure how she felt about Austin touching her in this way.

  "Why not let me take you back to Cypress Halls for a visit?" he said softly. There was a pause. Jacquelyn looked at him, trying to read the meaning behind his gaze. "Your Uncle Luther would be delighted," he added, as if sensing her reluctance to let Austin get too close to her emotionally. "He's beginning to show his age, Jacquelyn, and he misses you. You're all the family he has now."

  "I—I'll have to think about it," Jacquelyn said with hesitation.

  "Because of Scott?" Austin asked pointedly.

  Jacquelyn didn't answer. The knot in her throat made a reply impossible.

  "I can tell you're tired," Austin said finally. "I better leave so you can get some rest. Is it okay if I come back this afternoon?"

  "Sure," Jacquelyn said. "And thanks. It was so good seeing you. And the flowers are lovely."

  "My pleasure," Austin replied.

  When he had gone, Jacquelyn settled back on her bed, dimly wondering why she could not find it in herself to be more intimate with Austin. Sleep soon overtook her.

  As if by prearranged design to back up Austin's invitation, a letter came from Uncle Luther the very next day, containing something of a mystery, designed, Jacquelyn was sure, to whet her curiosity and send her scurrying to Uncle Luther's side. The letter said in part,

  My dear niece, I am deeply concerned about you. When I was notified of your accident, I immediately telephoned your doctor and he has assured me that you are not seriously injured and will be able to leave the hospital within a week. For this, I give thanks. Now I wish to invite you—no, plead with you—to return to Cypress Halls for a visit, so you may recuperate where you will be properly cared for. Also, I would like for you, while here, to consider what could well be the most important commission of your career…

  When Austin arrived at the hospital that day, Jacquelyn showed him the letter. "What on earth does he mean by that statement?" she asked. Since graduating from college, Jacquelyn had held a position as an interior decorator.

  Austin smiled down at her. "Your Uncle Luther is not one to give his secrets away. I think I may have an idea, but you'll have to wait. I won't spoil his little intrigue."

  "Austin! You know what an overgrown curiosity bump I have. Please."

  "Nope. Sorry."

  He laughed as he ducked to avoid the hospital pillow she threw at him. She was instantly sorry for her action as a dozen sore muscles ached.

  At the end of the week, Austin took Jacquelyn to her apartment to pack some bags and make arrangements for Napoleon, her cat. Yes, she'd decided to return with him to Cypress Halls, she thought to herself with a certain degree of apprehension. It had not been an easy decision for her, either. Returning to her former home meant the danger of a close proximity to Scott McCrann. Inevitably, some painful wounds would be reopened. But perhaps it would be for the best. Seeing him again, she might at last put to rest the old hurt. Then she could get on with her own life once again as a whole person.

  On the way to the apartment, Austin insisted they stop at the police station. Now, in broad daylight, with the shock of the hit-and-run accident beginning to fade, Jacquelyn could face talking about the incident. She went through the motions of reporting the sketchy details she could remember to the polite and concerned officer she was referred to. He wrote down a lot of information and asked many questions. Jacquelyn finally left with his assurance tha
t they would investigate. But with so few clues to go on, she really didn't see what they could hope to accomplish.

  When Jacquelyn entered her apartment, a chill raced up her spine. It was almost as if she were intruding on the abode of a stranger snatched at the last minute from the jaws of death. But that feeling quickly passed, and Jacquelyn packed her bags with a sigh of relief that it was she, and not a mourning relative, who was scouring through her closet and drawers.

  "There now," she said. "Everything is taken care of, I guess. I notified the phone company to temporarily disconnect my service. I've got a leave of absence from my boss—I took care of all of that while I was still in the hospital. So I guess all I need to do now is see that Napoleon will be well cared for in my absence."

  "Where is he, by the way?" Austin asked.

  "My neighbor across the hall, Claudette Wilson, has him," Jacquelyn explained. "I called her from the hospital and asked her to look after him for a few days. She adores that cat. She's kind of a lonely soul. Frankly, I think she would like it if she could adopt Napoleon on a permanent basis. She feeds him chopped liver every day, so I don't think he would object in the slightest. His loyalty has a way of following where his stomach leads." Jacquelyn chuckled.

  Jacquelyn crossed the hall and tapped at Claudette's door. It opened a crack, still on the chain, and a girl's eye peered out at her. "Oh, Jacquelyn."

  She quickly released the chain and opened the door. "I'm so glad you're all right."

  "I appreciated the flowers and the get well card, Claudette," Jacquelyn said. "It was sweet of you."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't afford a larger bouquet," she apologized shyly.

  Jacquelyn felt a sudden need to reassure Claudette, whose poor self-image stuck out like a red banner. "It was certainly the prettiest arrangement I received," Jacquelyn said.