Eloquent Silence

by Sandra Brown

  But he had made no such vows.

  He had recited the poetic words, repeated the familiar lines, but he hadn't spoken them from his heart. In order to protect her and out of respect for her parents, he had played his role and played it convincingly. Lauri, however, knew his motivation, and it wasn't love. His love was lost to him forever, buried in a grave, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  He needed her now. She could sense desperation in the way he held her. The intensity with which he kissed her was an indication of his passion. If she accepted his lovemaking now, how long would it take for that passion to wane? How long before he would withdraw into a world of his own as Paul had? When she needed the salve of his love to soothe her wounds, would he be there? She couldn't take the chance. She would rather live without his love entirely than to live with a facsimile of it.

  It was several moments before Drake realized that her frantic movements weren't born of passion. She was fighting him. It so surprised him that he released her immediately. She pushed past him and ran from the room. When she was halfway up the stairs, he called her name.

  His voice was soft, but more compelling because of it. "Lauri."

  She halted in midstride on the step. She didn't turn around. If she looked at him, she would be lost. Even now, if only he'd say that he loved her, she would fly into his arms and find surcease from this torment that gripped her. Say you love me! she cried silently.

  "Lauri—" He bit off any other words and seemed to hesitate. A simple "Good night" was the dejected valediction.

  * * *

  Something had awakened Lauri. She was lifted out of a deep sleep with the intuitive knowledge that something was wrong. Listening for a moment, she could hear nothing that would have awakened her, but nonetheless she flung off the covers and got out of bed. Her robe was lying across a chair, and she pulled it on before she stepped into the darkened hallway.

  Her first thought was of Jennifer. She went to the door of the little girl's room. The bed was empty. Lauri suppressed the panic that swept over her and crossed the room toward the adjoining bath. Jennifer wasn't in there either.

  Stumbling over the hem of her robe in her haste, she descended the stairs and checked the rooms on the first floor. No Jennifer. Thinking – hoping – the child may have gotten up for a drink of water or a cookie, she went into the kitchen and switched on the light. Jennifer wasn't in the room, but the back door was standing open, letting in the cold night air. Lauri's heart stopped.

  Kidnapped!

  That was her first thought. Drake was a celebrity. He and his daughter would be the perfect targets for a perverted mind who was seeking instant wealth or notoriety.

  Her first impulse was to dash headlong out the door and find the child herself, but she stopped halfway across the room. What if they were still out there? They could overpower her. It was dark and cold. She had no weapon.

  She ran into Drake's room and without hesitation placed her hand on his bare shoulder and shook him hard.

  "Drake, wake up." Was that her voice that was quivering in fear? It sounded almost like a sob. "Drake, please wake up."

  He bolted upright and looked at her with the wild, vacant, startled eyes of a man stunned out of sleep. "Lauri? Wh-what is it?"

  "Jennifer. She's gone. I woke up – heard something, I think – back door. I thought, maybe kidnappers—"

  She was stuttering and making no sense whatsoever, but he recognized terror when he saw it, and he caught enough of her words to interpolate the rest.

  He kicked away the covers and flew out of the bed with one fluid, animal-like motion.

  He grabbed his velour wrapper from a hook on the back of the door and shrugged into it as he hurried after Lauri, who was already returning to the kitchen.

  He went directly to the door and peered out into the inky darkness. "Should we call the police?" Lauri asked tremulously as she wrung her hands. "Drake, what—" She couldn't continue. She was sobbing.

  "Calm down, Lauri. Hysterics won't help. Yes, call the police. I'll go out to the shed and get a flashlight—"

  "But they may still be out there. Oh, Drake, no—"

  "Who's 'they'? We don't even know what happened.

  But I swear to God, if anything's happened to Jennifer, I'll kill—"

  "Are you looking for the Midnight Prowler?"

  The two frantic people standing in the middle of the room turned with one motion and stared open-mouthed at Betty, who held Jennifer in her arms.

  "Oh, God," Lauri said, clamping a hand over her mouth in relief and then rushing to retrieve the child from Betty's arms. She hugged Jennifer to her and rocked her back and forth, still not believing that she was safely at home.

  "What happened?" Drake asked, and Lauri noted that his voice was none too steady. He had a protective hand on Jennifer's back.

  "I was sound asleep," Betty explained, "when I heard someone at the back door. Of course, I just knew it was a burglar or a rapist and nearly panicked. I'll never get used to Jim being gone all the time and having to stay by myself." Her round brown eyes kept straying to the disturbing sight of Drake's bare chest, exposed by the deep V of the velour robe.

  "Well, anyway," Betty continued, "I decided that it wasn't a very smart rapist because he sure was making a lot of racket trying to open the door. I guess I was more curious than scared. I went into the kitchen and peeked out the window. Jennifer was standing on the step trying to open the door. When I let her in, she made a beeline for Sally's room. She had left Bunny there this afternoon. When she got what she came for, she started back home. I thought I'd better come with her and make sure she got here safely. Can you imagine that little stinker going out alone in the middle of the night without so much as a by-your-leave?"

  "She was so tired when she went to bed, she probably didn't miss Bunny. When she woke up in the middle of the night and realized he wasn't with her, she went to get him." Lauri filled in the rest of the story. She was smiling at the child, who was snuggling Bunny and yawning sleepily. Lauri pushed the tangled curls away from the dimpled cheeks as she kissed them.

  Drake reached for his daughter and stood her in front of him as he knelt down. "Jennifer, that was very naughty!" he signed in a way that emphasized his spoken message. "Never run away from me or Lauri. It makes us—" He groped for scared and looked to Lauri for help. She gave him the sign and he continued, "It makes us scared and sad. We didn't know where you were. If you ever run away again, I'll have to spank you."

  Jennifer's bottom lip began to tremble, and she knew her daddy was serious about what he said. Then his arms went around her and he held on to her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut in agony over thoughts of what could have happened. Jennifer's arms went around his neck, though she still kept a firm grip on Bunny. Drake lifted her and they walked out of the kitchen.

  "My goodness, I—"

  "Thank you, Betty. I can't tell you how relieved I was to see you with her. I had just roused Drake, and we were naturally imagining the worst." She was grateful to her neighbor but wasn't up to one of Betty's exuberant monologues.

  "I've got to get back to my kids. Good night. You get back upstairs to your little family." She touched Lauri's arm in a comforting gesture and scurried out the back door. Lauri made certain it was locked. She hadn't recovered from her fright.

  In Jennifer's room Drake was sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking his daughter's forehead, though she had already drifted peacefully to sleep. He took Lauri's hand as she leaned down and kissed the child.

  They left the room together. When they reached the hallway, Drake observed, "You're shivering."

  "I don't know if it's from the cold or fear."

  "Would you like a glass of wine or something?"

  "No, I'll be fine," she said as they reached the door to the master bedroom. She looked up at him and smiled, but her smile faded when she saw the naked hunger on his face that was too arresting to turn away from.

  They faced each other a
nd stared for long moments. He didn't touch her, but he didn't have to. She was vividly aware of his body, which seemed to gravitate toward hers, though he hadn't moved. Like magnets with opposite poles, they were drawn inexorably together. Their instinctive, undeniable need for each other was a force suddenly unmitigated by reason. When they did move together, they held each other tightly, clinging to each other in a desperate fear of separation.

  She didn't resist when he scooped her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently against the pillows. In one swift motion he was free of his robe and briefs. Splendidly naked, he lay down beside her with the sensuous ease of a pagan god practicing a love rite.

  "Lauri, don't talk. Don't think. For God's sake, don't think. Only feel. Feel."

  His hands reacquainted themselves with the curves of her body. He took his time, sliding the fabric of her robe against her skin. But he wanted to see and know it all, and he separated the folds of her robe, raising her shoulders as he slipped it from her body.

  He pulled her to him and held her with a fierce possession that was tempered by gentleness. His mouth fastened on hers while his hands sculpted her flesh, molding it, and breathing life into it.

  Her shoulders, breasts, and stomach knew his touch and reveled in it. He knelt over her and kissed her breasts with hot, swollen lips. The part of her that deemed her woman arched against his hand when he placed his palm over her. He found her waiting for him, moist and warm with longing.

  His touch was the height of tenderness, and so sublimely intimate that Lauri sobbed and clasped his shoulders in celebration of a feeling she had never before shared.

  "Lauri. You are a beautiful … woman … made for me." His words were disjointed, but had he not spoken at all, Lauri would have known what he was thinking. His caressing lips and the reverence of his touch told her everything she needed to know.

  Paul's words came back to haunt her. She had never pleased him. Now she realized she hadn't cared enough to want to. But she wanted to make Drake's body sing as hers was.

  Her hands roamed over the taut flesh, kneading the muscles her hands encountered. She cast off her cloak of modesty and inhibition and touched him, thrilling to his virility.

  "Lauri … yes, darling. Learn me," he gasped as he burrowed his head in her neck and clasped her tightly.

  His reaction gave her confidence, and Paul's insulting words disintegrated into oblivion when she heard Drake's muffled cries of pleasure. He repeated her name in a whispered chant, his breath sighing in her ear.

  He cupped her face in the palms of his hands and captured her mouth with his own in a deep kiss. Hesitating, he poised on the brink of absolute possession. He raised his head and looked down at her. She brought one of her hands to his face and traced the handsome features she had come to love. Her fingers smoothed over the silken mustache and circled his lips. Their eyes were unwavering.

  "Lauri?" be breathed.

  She felt his initial touch. Closing her eyes, she drew his head down beside hers on the pillow. She sighed his name in wonderment when she knew all of him.

  And the glory of it was that it didn't stop there, as it always had before. Whispering acclamations, Drake savored her. The tumult in her body grew, encompassing her heart and expanding into her soul. He uttered her name in an exultant cry when his passion was made manifest. She heard it a heartbeat before a volcano erupted within her.

  And the explosions went on … and on … and on.

  * * *

  "That's never happened to me before," she whispered timidly into the darkness.

  Her head rested on Drake's chest as he held her against him, their legs entwined under the covers. Absently he stroked her back.

  "Never?" he asked softly, proudly. "Not with—"

  "Paul? No," she said with a sad smile and shook her head slightly. The hairs on his chest tickled her nose. "I didn't think I could," she confessed.

  A laugh rumbled in his chest and was amplified in her ear. "Well, now we know better, don't we?" He swatted her on the fanny, then his hand remained and turned the playful gesture into a caress.

  She should be feeling remorse over what had happened, but she couldn't conjure up that sentiment. Indeed, she wasn't sorry at all. For what she had done had been out of love. And she knew that she would continue making love to Drake. It was inevitable now, and she no longer had the ambition or will to fight it. She nestled closer to him.

  "Are you cold?" he asked solicitously.

  "A little," she said.

  "All the covers got kicked to the foot of the bed," he said with feigned puzzlement.

  "I wonder how," she giggled.

  They soon had the covers settled over them. Drake nuzzled her ear as he drew her close. "I promise not to disturb the covers this time."

  "This time?" she asked incredulously. "You mean again? Now?"

  "Don't you want to?" he asked. Even in the darkness she could see the eyebrow arched cockily over his eye.

  "Well, I—"

  But his head had already lowered and his mouth was persuasive. She heard herself agree in a small but urgent voice, "Yes, yes."

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  The next several days were idyllic. Drake proved to be an ardent lover and rarely let Lauri out of his sight. Sharing a room wasn't enough. He had to be touching her, if not with his hands, with his eyes. Their nights were filled with a passion that they both marveled at. During the day, when Jennifer was with them, they communicated their happiness to the child, and she basked in the glow of it.

  They went into the village often, milling through the shops that lined the hilly, picturesque streets. One afternoon they visited John Meadows in his woodcrafts shop. He welcomed them warmly and gave no indication that he remembered the rudeness Drake had exhibited when they had last met. Lauri was gratified when Drake took a genuine interest in John's work and asked polite questions concerning the objects on display. The two men, so vastly diverse, chatted affably. However, Drake kept a possessive arm around Lauri's shoulders. It was a declaration of ownership that didn't go unnoticed.

  They enjoyed their frequent outings, but their favorite times were the quiet evenings spent at home sitting near the fireplace and sharing their thoughts over a bottle of wine.

  Lauri usually sat in the corner of the sofa while Drake stretched out on his back and lay his head in her lap as he had done the night her parents made their surprise visit. He outlined his ambitions, gesturing with expressive hands, his eyes fired by an inner resource.

  But no matter how thought-provoking their topic, soon their conversation would wane. The hands that had punctuated his conversation would begin stroking and caressing her until the fire in the fireplace was nothing compared to the conflagration that burned between them.

  When her parents called before their return trip to Nebraska, Lauri didn't have to pretend happiness. She urged them to stop in Whispers, but commitments compelled them to go home immediately after the pastors' conference. She hung up, assuring them that she was blissfully content. For, at that moment in time, she was.

  They took long walks through the woods after Lauri and Jennifer had completed lessons and before Betty and the children came over for their sign class. Often Lauri would pack a picnic lunch for them, and they would sit on old blankets and eat leisurely beside a brook and under the aspens that were bare now with the approach of winter.

  One bright afternoon on such an outing, when they had finished eating, Jennifer succumbed to the somnolent day and fell asleep, curled up on the blanket. Drake leaned his back against a tree and pulled Lauri between his raised knees, pressing her back into his wide chest.

  "I may do what Jennifer's doing if I get any more comfortable," she murmured sleepily as she rested her head on his chest.

  "Go ahead," he said into her hair and spread an extra blanket over them.

  His steady breathing provided a lulling cadence she couldn't resist, and she was soon drowsing.
In that region between sleep and wakefulness, disturbing thoughts invaded the tranquillity that encompassed her. For days she had pushed thoughts of Susan away. Drake's affection was undeniable, but even at the height of their passion, he had never once said that he loved her.

  Had he and Susan ever sat like this? Had his lovemaking to her been more fervent? Would he ever be able to love Lauri with that same intensity? She must have stirred restlessly with these disturbing questions. Drake's arms went around her more firmly and he whispered, "Bad dreams?"

  She shook her head no, but her musings had shattered the euphoria of the day and allowed a worm of doubt to creep into her consciousness.

  Just when she was about to straighten up and pull away from him, she felt his hands exploring her. He settled his hands around her waist and slipped them between her sweater and the waistband of her jeans. That one suggestion was enough to begin those now familiar pangs of desire that made her languorous and malleable.

  Her sweater was lifted slightly as he slid his hands underneath it. She felt his touch on her breasts; fondling, kneading. His caress was as gentle and inquiring as it had been the first time. He knew her body so well, yet made her feel like each time he touched her was a discovery.

  "Drake?"

  "Don't bother a man when he's busy," he growled against her ear.

  Suddenly she was shy. If she couldn't tell him that she loved him, she wanted to say something that would let him know a measure of what she felt for him. "I just wanted you to know that every time you – we – are together – I – it's very special to me."

  His hands ceased their movement and palmed her breasts gently. He was alarmingly still. "Lauri," he said huskily. "Look at me."

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and tilted it back in order to see him. "It's very special to me too," he said. His mouth took hers in a kiss that made her veins throb with a heated flow of blood.

  His hands slid down her ribs to her waist, then returned over her stomach to cup her breasts. He lifted them, teasing the aching nipples with his stroking thumbs, rolling them between his fingers while he nibbled her earlobe. It reminded her of the times he had captured those pink points in his teeth. She gave a soft cry and writhed against the questing hand that had slipped to her thigh.