Dreamkeepers

by Dorothy Garlock

  He raised his head and stared at the white skin laid bare by the open shirt. His fingers loosened and moved slowly, gently, in a caressing motion. The smooth, warm fingers softly caressed her trembling body. Her heart beat so hard she was deaf. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak.

  Jonathan’s eyes flickered to her face and she shook her head in silent protest. She couldn’t bear the thought of submitting to him with this terrible chasm between them.

  “Let me have you, darling,” he whispered, and she heard the words through the singing of her blood and couldn’t answer. Desperately she fought down the desire that spiralled crazily inside her.

  “To hold you, touch you like this drives me crazy,” he said in a strange, thickened voice, his mouth at her throat, then sliding up to close over her mouth, gently now. Her mouth quivered weakly under the persuasion of his kiss. The searching movement parted her lips and he began sensuously exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

  A strange, melting heat began inside her. The hungry, coaxing movements of his mouth were awakening the first, tentative response in her. One of his hands slid back and forth across her breast in a soft, possessive caress and her nipple, loving the feel of his palm, reacted automatically. Oh, the weight of him felt so good! She had missed the way he made her feel, the way he could force her to relinquish control, and fly away with him into the sensuous world where there were only his lips, his hands, the hard strength of his male body. Her lips began moving under his, clinging, returning the pressure of his mouth. She wanted him. She ached with the slow burning fire he was awakening in her body.

  “I mean to have you,” he groaned into her mouth and his body moved on hers urgently.

  Abruptly, as though he had lifted her out of the well of sexual chaos, she went cold and stiff. “No,” she said tightly. “No!”

  “Oh, Kelly!” His voice was like a sound from the past, but she refused to be softened by the memory of the husky cry wrung from him at the peak of overwhelming pleasure.

  She twisted out from under him and he let her go. He lay where she left him, breathing hard. At the door she turned back. He was sitting on the edge of the bed watching her.

  “We were never suited. This was all we ever shared. It isn’t enough. We must face it. Our marriage was a mistake.” She saw him flinch as though she had struck him. “I didn’t fit into your life and you won’t fit into mine. It’s best you forget I ever existed.”

  As she turned away, he said quickly, “I haven’t totally disrupted my life to be put off so easily, Kelly. I’m staying. Forever, if necessary.”

  “I can’t believe you want me when I despise everything you are, everything you stand for!” she cried.

  His dark eyes mocked her. “What a liar you’ve turned out to be, Kelly,” he drawled. “That isn’t true and you know it. You can say all the words you want about hating me, but we both know differently, don’t we?”

  She wanted to slap him so badly her palm burnt. Self-respect made her resist with all her willpower and she clamped her lips down on the denial that bubbled up within her. She walked in silence through the bathroom, into her own darkened bedroom, and to the front door, where she began to jerk on her boots.

  “You’re not leaving here, Kelly.” Jonathan stood in the doorway of her father’s room.

  “I’m going to the lodge and you can’t stop me.”

  “Yes, I can stop you,” he said calmly, “but don’t force me. Get on that radio and ask Clyde to bring us something to eat. I haven’t had a thing all day.”

  “I won’t treat Clyde like a busboy! He isn’t paid to bring me my meals,” she replied coolly.

  “He won’t mind doing it this once. After this we’ll either go to the lodge for our meals or you can fix them here. Tonight we’re going to be here, alone. You can get on that radio or I will, and you know how snobbish a Bostonian can be when demanding service.” He waited for her to speak. “Clyde will understand. I told him I was your husband and we’d been apart for a while, but that we’re back together again.”

  Kelly felt suddenly sick, filled with humiliation and self-contempt for what happened in the bedroom. “Stay away from me,” she snapped as he moved toward her. The burning temptation to give in to him was too new. The inevitability of her own submission was not the worst thing preying on her mind. It was the shameful truth that Jack wouldn’t need to force her. He could take her whenever he chose. Already she was thinking of him as Jack again. There was nowhere to run. She was imprisoned, with snow and ice all around her and no choice but to submit to whatever he demanded. Of course she could defy him, but could she do that to Marty and Mike? There wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind that he would carry out his threat to put them out of their home. Maybe if she played along until she could see a lawyer in Anchorage . . .

  Jonathan watched her closely, his own face expressionless. Kelly felt a shiver run down her spine.

  “Don’t . . . do this to me, Jonathan.” The soft plea was out before she could bite it back.

  “Poor Kelly. What a predicament!”

  His mockery stiffened her spine. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny!” She glared at him, her eyes alive with angry tears. “It’s a game with you. You don’t care who you hurt.”

  “I care, Kelly,” he insisted flatly. “I’m fighting for what I want the only way I know how.”

  Kelly took off her boots. Her head ached and her dry throat hurt when she swallowed. She sat down beside the Citizen’s Band radio and pressed the key on the desk microphone.

  “Break . . . Mountain View base station. Are you on the channel, Bonnie?” Jonathan stood watching her and she gave him a withering look.

  “Yes-sir-ee, I’m here. Ain’t ya comin’ up to eat, Kelly?”

  Kelly closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before pressing the key to answer. “Not tonight, Bonnie. I was wondering if Clyde would mind bringing something down for us.”

  “Course he will, honey. Land sakes, I don’t blame you none for wanting to be alone with that husband of yours. Why, you just stay right there and I’ll send Clyde down with a dish of that chicken casserole you like and a fresh-baked blueberry pie. You got coffee, ain’t ya?”

  “Yes, I have coffee.”

  “Ten-four, Kelly. Say, honey, ya got the cookstove going, don’t ya?”

  “Ten-four.”

  “You might have to heat the casserole up a bit. Mike ain’t been up for supper. Is he down there?”

  “Negative. Mike, if you’re on the channel, let Bonnie know if you’re going up for supper.”

  There was a pause, then Mike’s voice came in. “I’ll be coming up in a few minutes, Bonnie. You okay, Kelly?”

  “Sure. See you tomorrow. Thanks, Bonnie. Tell Clyde this won’t be a regular thing.”

  “You get the coffee goin’ and I’ll send down everything but the candles and champagne. I’ll be clear with ya, honey. You all enjoy yourself, now.”

  When Kelly looked at the doorway where Jonathan had stood, it was empty. She sat for a moment and tried to calm down. If he had been standing there with a mocking, “I told you so” look on his face, she might have hit him. She ran her tongue around the velvety innerside of her lips, which were still sore from his brutal kisses. Defiance and consternation swept through her, and she thought again what a naive idiot she had been to actually believe a man like Jonathan Winslow Templeton could love a girl like her. He was just frustrated now because she had left him. A man like Jonathan couldn’t accept rejection.

  The dryness in her throat reminded her of the bottle of Scotch in the cupboard. On her way to get it, she looked at herself in the mirror over the kitchen sink. You’re a romantic, Kelly, she thought. She stared into serious eyes, dark circled and bright from tears she was too stubborn to shed. She’d read too many novels where the poor girl married her prince and they lived happily ever after. It was not a romantic world anymore and marriage was not a singular state. It was more of a stage in people’s lives,
different partners for different periods. Few stayed married forever and no one lived happily ever after.

  She took the bottle from the cupboard, poured herself a stiff drink, and drank it in one gulp. She gasped. The fiery liquid burned all the way to her stomach. She leaned against the cabinet and coughed, tears blurring her eyes. Through her misery she felt a hand on her back and jerked away.

  “Take your hands off me!” She struggled, flailing her arms.

  “How much of that did you drink?”

  “None of your business,” she snapped, and pushed away from him. She opened the front of the firebox on the cookrange, uncaring that ashes drifted to the floor, and poked several small pieces of firewood into the opening before kicking it shut. Holding the coffee pot in front of her like a shield, she went to the sink. Jonathan stepped out of her way and she dumped the used grounds and refilled the pot with water. She heard the motor of the pickup as it approached the cabin, then the sound of the car door banging shut.

  Jonathan held the door open for Clyde, who had a large covered tray in his hands. He stood just inside the doorway.

  “I ain’t supposed to track snow all over your clean floor,” he said and grinned. “Bonnie done gave me strict orders.”

  “I’ll take it then, Clyde. Don’t want you to get into trouble with the wife.” Jonathan took the tray. “Don’t run off, though. Kelly and I were just having a drink and would like you to join us. Wouldn’t we, darling?”

  Kelly turned her back to him and forced a civil reply. “Of course.”

  “No, don’t bother, Mr. Templeton. Bonnie told me to shake a leg on back.”

  “Jack. My name’s Jack,” Jonathan said easily. “I’m afraid all we’ve got is water to go in the Scotch unless you’d rather have a straight shot.”

  “Straight will be fine.”

  Jonathan searched the cupboard and brought out a small wine glass. He poured from the bottle and carried the drink to Clyde still standing on the mat beside the door.

  “I hear you’re from Oklahoma, my favorite state. I spent a year at Tinker Airforce Base in Oklahoma City and got addicted to the place. How do the Cowboys look this year? Think they’ve got a chance to stomp O.U. again?”

  “They got a damn good chance. They got a running fullback from a little town called Bowlegs, Oklahoma. That kid stands six foot four, if he’s an inch. He weighs two hundred and forty pounds and can run and root like a razorback hog. He’s the prettiest sight you ever did see, Jack. I’d love to see him against those pretty boys down at Norman.”

  “I went to Stillwater for a game while I was in Oklahoma. That little town comes alive when the college plays the university.”

  “It shore does,” Clyde agreed. “Not even a good rodeo can stir the people up like that game.”

  “Do you think we could pull in an Oklahoma station if we put up a pretty good sized antenna? I doubt any of the games will be broadcast over the Anchorage station.”

  “I don’t know, Jack. They’ve a powerful station in Tulsa. It’d be worth a try.”

  “We’ll have to see what we can do about it, Clyde. And thanks for bringing down our dinner. Tell Bonnie thanks, too.”

  “Hey, now. That’s okay, Jack. Glad to do it. It’ll be great having another man around. Mike gets calls and is away a lot. I know ya’all ain’t wantin’ this old cowboy a hanging around so I’ll just vamoose. Night, Jack. Thanks for the drink. Night, Kelly.”

  Kelly, who had kept herself busy at the stove so she wouldn’t have to look at him, called out, “Night, Clyde.” She didn’t speak again until she heard the car door slam and the motor start. Finally, she turned to see Jonathan looking at her.

  “I suppose you’re pretty pleased with yourself,” she sneered. “Clyde wasn’t any challenge, at all. You charm men like him every day back in Boston!”

  “Don’t be nasty, Kelly.”

  “Poor Clyde was just an obstacle to overcome in your own cold-blooded, calculated way.” She laughed sardonically.

  A faint red stain ran along his hard cheekbones. “Think what you like,” he said, and poured himself a drink from the bottle of Scotch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE MEAL TASTED like ashes in Kelly’s mouth. She sat across the table from Jonathan and never once let her gaze rest on his face. Her depression deepened.

  “You look worn out. You’ve been working too hard.”

  Kelly flushed and ignored him.

  “You’ve lost weight.”

  “Well, what did you expect? I’m hardly the Boston debutante,” she snapped.

  She could feel his eyes on her. “Thank God, you’re not. But you could try to be cordial, at least. You look as if you expect to be executed,” he said through his teeth.

  She gave him a false, over-bright smile. “You want me to look like this? I’ll smile like a lighthouse, if that’s what you want. You’re the man in charge. You command, I obey.”

  His eyes flashed angrily. “One of these days you’re going to push me too far.”

  “And you’ll get nasty? You mean nastier than usual?”

  Jonathan laid down his fork very carefully and the anger in his eyes intensified. “Stop the sarcasm, Kelly. You and I will be living here together and I’ve no intention of spending the winter sparring with you.”

  “You know the alternative.”

  Without answering, he began eating again—several helpings of the casserole and a large piece of pie. Kelly pushed her food around on her plate, knowing she should eat but not liking the feel of the food in her mouth. Instead, she drank several cups of coffee and rested her elbows on the table.

  When Jonathan finished, he took his plate to the sink. Kelly scraped hers into a pan for Charlie, added the leftover casserole to it, and went to the door. Charlie bounded in the moment she opened it. He stood looking at Jonathan, then finally dropped the battered frisbee and, with a wag of his tail, began to gulp down the food. As he licked the pan clean, he moved it farther and farther into the room until it came up against Jonathan’s foot. Charlie looked up at him and gave a low growl. Surprised, Kelly burst into peals of laughter.

  “Charlie! You uncouth dog! You’re not supposed to growl at Jonathan Winslow Templeton the Third. You’re supposed to grovel at his feet.” Kelly knew it was the Scotch talking, but she didn’t care. “Be nice to him, Charlie, and he’ll have a nice, big bone flown in from Boston.” She poured another drink.

  While she was washing the dishes, she had two more drinks and only vaguely heard Jonathan talking to Charlie and shutting the door after letting him out. She saw the hand reach out and take the bottle of Scotch and set it on the top shelf in the cabinet. She wanted to giggle. Did he think she wouldn’t reach up and get it if she wanted more? She left the dishes on the drainboard and walked on unsteady legs to the door of her bedroom. With one hand on the doorframe to steady herself, she turned and tried to focus her eyes on Jonathan’s face.

  “I’m going to bed,” she enunciated very clearly. “You can do as you please. Sleep on the couch or in my father’s bed, if you can find blankets.” She giggled and put her hand to her mouth. “Or sleep out in the snow with Charlie.” Waving her hand carelessly, she swayed, then turned to go, but her feet wouldn’t move. Jonathan caught her as she fell forward, his hands under her armpits. “I’m not sleeping with you. Do you hear? I hate the sight of you. Stay, if you’ve no more pride than to stay where you’re not wanted, but you’ll not get any pleasure out of my company!” The words had been burning in her head all evening and now they shot out at a frantic rate, clear and unwavering. She tried to stand up straight and push his hands away from her.

  “You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, apparently amused.

  “Which is no business of yours.” Her head was whirling and she found herself leaning against him for support. She closed her eyes. “Oh, my head!” she groaned.

  He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather. Her head was swimming dizzily and she couldn’t focus her eyes
. She was only half aware that he was carrying her, then he lowered her to something soft and comfortable. She wanted to sleep, but his movements irritated her. Dimly she felt her shoes being removed and then her jeans. She tried to push him away when he lifted her to slip the shirt off her back. At last she was allowed to lay back and he covered her with something soft and warm. Almost instantly she was asleep.

  During the night she began to dream lovely, wonderful, intensely exciting dreams. She was back with Jack in the king-sized bed at Captain Cook’s Hotel in Anchorage, where they had spent the first two days after their marriage. She was submitting to his lovemaking, burning pleasurably under the smooth caress of his hands. The warmth of his body seemed to melt hers so that it molded to his shape. The dream was so deeply real she could feel his fingers on her bare skin searching for all the sensitive places and finding them.

  She moaned aloud as his lips explored the warm curve of her throat and descended to the rounded flesh of her breast, fondling the stiff peaks until she turned her face into his neck and kissed his damp skin.

  “Kiss me, darling,” he breathed in her ear. “Kiss me and love me.”

  “Yes! Oh, yes!” Her lips, warm and eager, sought his that were firm, yet gentle, hardening with passion only at her insistence. Her hand stroked his wide chest, dark with rough hairs, and moved down to the flat, smooth-skinned stomach. Sensuous, languid, she took her time and explored his body boldly, giving herself up to this wonderful dream. “Jack . . . Jack . . .”

  His mouth silenced hers and his palms moved down over her body and curved against her hips. He whispered love words in her ear and she felt his cheek against her breast. And then his mouth slid gently over the white skin until it enclosed her nipple. He repeated the caress, his mouth seductive, lazy, setting her ablaze with hunger. He was invading every inch of her now, exploring her body boldly, making her give herself up to him. He began to kiss her mouth deeply and Kelly slid her arms around his neck and pulled on the hair on the back of his head. His breath came fast and thick, hers light and gasping.