by Sandra Brown
Hoping he would go away if she complied, she leaned forward and took a tiny bite between her teeth. She sat up and pulled away from him as he smiled down at her.
When she looked away from that victorious smile, she saw Jared standing under the portiere watching them.
His fists were clenched at his sides, the muscles of his jaw working furiously. His eyes held a demonic gleam as he took in the scene. She realized how intimate she and Kurt must look to him, sitting together on a couch in the shadows.
“Jared.” Her voice was a strangled whisper.
Kurt whipped his head around, following her gaze. He spotted Jared and noted his fury. Turning back to Lauren, he chucked her under the chin playfully. “See, it didn’t hurt a bit.”
She practically pushed him from her as she stood and hurriedly followed Jared, who had spun on his heels and stalked out of the room.
She caught up with him in the hall and reached out a hand to restrain him. “Jared.” She cleared her throat. “Jared, I—”
“Shut up!” he barked at her and jerked his arm away. His face was contorted with rage. She wanted to shout at him, plead with him, and strike him all at the same time. Anything to erase the angry, accusing look on his face.
Rosa was cowering against the wall wishing she could escape unseen. Lauren saw her and, knowing that conciliation was hopeless, went to her. “Rosa, I’m going up to my room. I have a headache. Would you please extend my apologies to our guests?”
“Sí, señora,” Rosa whispered, hoping that Jared wouldn’t say anything.
He didn’t, but only glared at his wife as she retreated.
* * *
Jared lit another cigar and fanned out the match as he stood at the window of his upstairs room. He watched Lauren as she walked slowly along the fence that encircled the front yard. Wasn’t she cold out there? Yes, she was, he concluded when he saw her shiver slightly. What in hell was she doing walking around in the front yard in the middle of the night?
The Vandivers had finally departed. It had taken every ounce of self-control Jared possessed not to kill Kurt Vandiver with his bare hands. He didn’t remember ever being so consumed with anger and hatred just at the mere sight of a person.
As he left, Kurt had turned to Jared and said, “I’ll look forward to seeing you at the groundbreaking. I hope Lauren is feeling better by then. I would hate for her not to be there.” His smile was mocking, and Jared’s fists clenched at his sides to keep from smashing them into that smirking face.
After that, he had spent several hours getting progressively drunker. The sound of Lauren’s slippers tapping on the floor of the hall had penetrated his alcohol-befuddled mind, and he listened, following their progress.
It surprised him when he heard the front door opening and closing. From his front window, he saw her step from the porch and walk toward the iron gate. She was wearing the dressing gown he had seen before, her hair trailing down her back. She folded her arms tightly to ward off the chill November air.
Bitch! he thought vindictively. She was playing it so cozy with that Vandiver buffoon. He had been right about her all along. She was a schemer, an opportunist, a whore who teased and tormented but never came across.
Well, I don’t give a damn, he swore. But he did. That was what rankled. He did care, and it ate at his gut every time he saw that Vandiver bastard go anywhere near her.
Jared watched her now with the moonlight shining silver on her hair. She leaned wearily on the gate and bowed her head, some of her hair falling forward over her cheeks. Her slender back was outlined by the trim, snug fit of the dressing gown, and with a growing ache in his groin, Jared remembered how her body looked partially clothed. He gulped the whiskey in his glass.
If he had to have a wife of convenience, why couldn’t she be ugly? Why did she have to be Lauren?
His sexual exploits were well known in the capital city, and in others as well. Whores vied for the chance to offer him their services. His ardent lovemaking was followed by a nonchalant, take-it-or-leave-it attitude that challenged every woman’s innate feminine instincts. Perversely they loved him for it.
But when he had been in Austin, he had had no desire to frequent any of his usual haunts. Lauren’s image was constantly in his mind, leaving no room for others. Her body was the one he saw in his fantasies, the one he craved.
Furious with the monklike existence he was leading, he had finally forced himself to go to one of the most exclusive “clubs” in the city. He was greeted enthusiastically. Everyone had missed him. Had marriage spoiled Jared Lockett? they asked.
He had drunk whiskey. He had gambled. But when it came time to choose a woman and retire with her upstairs, he was tired of pretending to enjoy himself.
Striving for objectivity, he surveyed the women displayed provocatively before him. This one was too heavy. That one’s hair was too brassy. Another one was too coarse. And so it went.
Finally, disgusted with the place and more so with himself, he mumbled some lame excuse and returned to his hotel room. Lying alone on the bed, the hard throbbing between his thighs painfully demanded assuagement. He resorted to a means that had been unnecessary since early adolescence.
Afterward, as he was drifting off to sleep, he convinced himself that it was purely an accident that it had been Lauren’s name he had cried into his pillow when the tumult came.
I ought to leave right now. If I did, I could tumble several good whores before morning. But he didn’t want anyone else. No, he decided. What I ought to do is act like a man and tumble my own wife.
Lauren was walking slowly back toward the house. Why not? he thought. She is my wife, isn’t she? She flirts with everyone from the lowliest vaquero at Keypoint to Kurt Vandiver, and God knows how many others when I’m not around.
Why not?
He took one last long swallow of the liquor before he staggered out into the hall.
* * *
Lauren had been miserable when she retired to her room pleading a headache. She threw herself across her bed and cried as she had not done in a long time. The tears were bitter, angry ones, and had no healing properties. She had drenched her handkerchief and the pillowcase before the tears ran out and then she cried in dry sobs.
Elena had knocked and inquired about her, but Lauren sent her away with reassurances that she was feeling better, and only needed a good night’s sleep.
She heard Jared when he came upstairs and went into his room. The house had been quiet for some time when she undressed and climbed into bed. Sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, Jared’s angry face rose up before her. The lips that had curled in contempt were so different from those that had kissed her. The eyes that had looked at her with such enmity were not the same ones that had looked at her tenderly over the top of his red bandana.
Seeking respite from the agonizing images, she donned her robe and crept downstairs and outside to get some fresh air. The night was quiet and beautiful. Everything was bathed in silver moonlight. The stars were brilliant and close.
Lauren was never sure when the thought took form and solidified in her mind, but all of a sudden it was there. I am in love with Jared Lockett. I love Jared.
Never before had she known the meaning of the word in all its scope. Never had she experienced this all-consuming passion.
Every thought related to Jared. Each word she spoke was weighed against what he would think of it. With everything she did, no matter how trivial, she secretly sought his approval. He dominated her mind. She wanted to share his torments as well as his joys. Was this love? Did it always bring so much pain?
She loved Jared. Smiling to herself, she basked in her secret knowledge as she went back into the house and climbed the stairs.
Jared was standing behind the door in her room, so she didn’t see him until she shut it. She stifled a startled scream. “Jared, you scared me out of my wits,” she gasped, holding a hand against her thumping heart. “What do you want?”
He
was balanced on the balls of his feet as if about to pounce. She noticed for the first time that he reeked of whiskey and his golden eyes shone maniacally. His shirt was opened and the shirttail hung around his hips.
“Jared?” she said tremulously, and took a step backward.
“What do you think I want, Mrs. Lockett?” His voice was raspy and harsh, the inflection on her name ugly. He lunged at her, cornering her against the wall.
His lips swooped down on hers in a brutal kiss that tore her lips apart. A rapacious tongue plunged into her mouth as he pressed his hard body against hers. The buckle on his belt gouged her stomach. His knee plowed between her thighs, thrusting them apart.
Lauren had been so stunned at first that she hadn’t reacted. Now she panicked. She fought him ineffectually with her fists, beating him about his head and shoulders.
She twisted her face free, sobbing, “No, Jared. Please, no!”
“No? Why not?” he growled through clenched teeth. “You are my wife, Mrs. Lockett. So do your duty by me. You’ve given it away to everyone else, and I won’t be denied any longer.”
She recognized the illogical reasoning induced by alcohol, but part of what he said was the truth. She was his wife. His words reverberated in her head like an echo. She was his wife.
She stopped struggling immediately, and he almost lost his balance. She made no effort to stop him as he jerked open her robe and ripped the sheer nightgown from neck to waist. He feasted his fevered eyes on her breasts, covering them roughly with his hands and squeezing with the intention of hurting her. Expecting a reaction and getting none, it finally registered with him that she wasn’t fighting. He looked into her eyes.
She returned his gaze steadily, levelly, without fear. It was the look of a small animal that offers up the jugular to its predator when it admits that struggling is futile.
If she had poured cold water on him, she couldn’t have extinguished the fires of passion more thoroughly. He stood motionless before her, breathing heavily. After long moments rife with suppressed emotion, he ran his hand through his hair, making a valiant effort to regain a modicum of dignity.
He leaned against her, but not with the lust of a moment before. His head rested against the wall above hers and he rolled his forehead from one side to another as if in agony. She felt his hands at her breasts, but realized he was pulling together the front of her dressing gown to hide her nakedness.
When his breathing had returned to normal, he backed away, holding a lock of her hair between his fingers. As he moved backward, he kept the strand in his hand until it was extended its full length, and then he let it fall from his fingers a little at a time. He watched every hair as it filtered through his fingers, falling to lie against her shoulder. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Lauren slumped to the floor and muffled her sobs with the fabric of her gown.
Jared was gone the next morning. He had returned to Austin. A week later, Lauren accepted the delivery of a brand-new, baby grand piano. It had been purchased for her by one Mr. Jared Lockett.
Chapter 17
The date of the groundbreaking ceremony for the new railroad was set for December fifteenth. Everyone hoped that the Texas weather would cooperate. The collective spirit of the townspeople was soaring with excitement and anticipation. The municipal band gathered for joint rehearsals with the high school band. Speechmakers wrote and rewrote their speeches. Games were organized and yards of bunting were taken out of storage to be used in decorating the platform that was being erected in the center of the park.
Lauren had spent considerable time alone while Jared was away. She hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of his attack Thanksgiving night. Again he had shown her that side of his character that was violent and frightening. She knew that most of his anger that night had been brought on by the Vandivers’ presence in his house. Compound that with his seeing her with Kurt, and then by the alcohol he had consumed, and the results weren’t too surprising.
Lauren still trembled as she recalled his face as he lowered it to hers in a parody of romantic passion. He had intended to punish her physically, but had wounded her spirit instead. If she could hate him, things would be easier. But loving him, his insults hurt even more.
The tender way he had touched her hair before he left that night had almost been her undoing. The anguish and suffering she had read in his eyes were more than she could bear. Had he wanted to apologize? Did masculine pride prevent him from expressing his regret?
When the piano was being unloaded from the wagon sent to deliver it, she had cried. Was this supposed to be a substitute for his respect and affection? It was a generous, beautiful gift, but she would have preferred one kind, gentle, caring word from Jared’s lips.
After she had thought about it for a long while, she realized that Jared didn’t know how to ask her forgiveness. She, more than anyone, had come to know how fierce his pride was. He would never verbalize an apology, so he had sent her the expensive piano as his peace offering.
Lauren played the instrument every day. Having not played for months, her fingers had become stiff and her touch lacked the fluidity that she had been capable of before. She practiced for a week before she felt she had regained some semblance of her former talent.
She was playing on the afternoon Jared rode into the yard on Charger. He slowed his horse when he first heard the music. He slipped from the saddle and nodded absently as Pepe came running from the stable.
He relinquished care of the animal to Pepe and walked on light footsteps up the steps to the front door. He didn’t want to disturb her playing, and he was anxious as to what her attitude toward him would be. He had never had to resort to rape in his life. And then to try to rape his own wife! Godalmighty! He was brimming with self-loathing and disgust. What would she do when she saw him? Probably clutch her clothes to her body and flee in terror. He couldn’t blame her.
Slipping quietly into the hall and shutting the front door, he crept on tiptoe toward the parlor, raising his heels high off the floor to keep his spurs from jingling.
Lauren saw him the instant he stood under the portiere. He looked much as he had when he had invaded her bedroom that first time. The clothes, hat, holster, boots, everything was the same except for his demeanor. Then he had been sardonic and arrogant. Today he looked like a shy little boy. He melted her heart, banished her fearful reserve.
“Jared!” she cried. Her face was wreathed in smiles as she stood quickly and went to him. “Thank you for the piano. I can’t tell you how much I love it. Thank you.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheeks in turn, lightly.
He was so taken aback by her reception that he stood mute, staring into the sparkling gray eyes. They held no accusation, no anger, no revulsion. He was completely baffled.
Her hands still rested lightly on his shoulders. The fragrance he had come to associate with her wafted up to him. Her complexion looked warm and rosy. Her lips were softly parted, inviting, expectant. It was all too much.
When he drew her to him, it was with extreme caution, as though she might rebuff his embrace. He moaned with gratitude when, all too willingly, she fit her body along his. His arms went around her carefully as he buried his face in the rich glossiness of her hair. When his lips met hers, they were suppliant. At her immediate, sweet, acquiescent response, he grew bolder and traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
“Jared,” she breathed, before his invading tongue prohibited speech. He kissed her frantically, like a man who had been doomed to die and then had been granted a reprieve. Thirstily he drank of her mouth. Finally they drew apart, regretfully.
“Why don’t you take off your hat and stay awhile?” she asked shakily. She reached up and pulled the hat from his head, clutching it quickly and tightly to her bosom before handing it back to him. “Would you like something drink?”
“N-no, thank you, Lauren. I’m not… not thirsty.”
“Would you like t
o hear me play something? Maybe you don’t think my talents warrant such a magnificent piano.”
“I heard you from outside. It was… You play very well.”
“Sit down and relax,” she invited gently as she returned to the piano.
He sat on the edge of the sofa, aware of his dusty clothes. He felt gauche and awkward. What the hell was the matter with him? She played several selections, and he stared in fascination at her hands as they flitted over the ivory keys. Her back was straight, her head tilted, tendrils of black curls had escaped the confines of her chignon during their kiss and were resting on her cheeks and neck.
For just a moment, Jared felt a hard lump forming in his throat. He was going to make a damn fool of himself if he didn’t get out of here. He stood abruptly and said, “It’s beautiful, Lauren. You play better than anyone I’ve ever heard. I’ve got to go upstairs now. Clean up and all.” He fled the room.
Lauren’s fingers were poised over the keys where they had halted when he took his hasty exit. Thoughtfully she began to play again. The music followed Jared upstairs and into his room.
* * *
One adage Lauren had heard often since she had come to Texas was that if there was anything predictable about Texas weather, it was that it was unpredictable. No one would have bet that a December day in Coronado would have dawned clear and crisp, perfect for the activities planned for that auspicious day. For Carson Wells’s sake, Lauren was glad this was so. He had worried, worked, and planned until she thought he would explode before the day of the groundbreaking ceremonies finally arrived.
The Locketts and Carson gathered in the dining room to share an enormous breakfast before they left for the site of the new depot. Jared looked dashing in black britches tucked into his high, black boots, black coat over a white shirt, and butter-colored leather vest. His black hat had been brushed and hung on the hall tree. Olivia murmured that she wished he had worn dress clothes. He ignored her.
Lauren wore a wool suit of deep burgundy with a cream lace blouse underneath. The skirt had a high waistband that came to a point in the center just under her breasts. Jared found it hard to keep from staring at the spot and wished she could leave off the jacket to the suit.