Twilight Whispers

by Barbara Delinsky

  Katia bit her lower lip. Her lids lowered and her head fell back. When Jordan buried himself fully, she dug her fingers into his arms as a dynamic climax shook her. She was madly gasping for breath when she started to laugh.

  “My God, Jordan! That’s never happened to me! Knowing it was you inside … everything I felt was so strong … I don’t believe it!”

  “Hold on,” Jordan rasped. His eyes were squeezed shut now, his face tense. He withdrew nearly all the way, then surged forward deeply and forcefully into his own prolonged and powerful climax.

  Katia, who had sucked in her breath when she realized what was happening, was watching him with every bit of the fascination he had felt moments before. She felt him pulsing inside her, gradually slowing, and saw his features flow from that tight state to a pleasure-pain kind of frown to a more relaxed and utterly satisfied smile.

  “Unh, Katia.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. With a second grunt he pulled her close, burrowing his chin in her hair, enfolding her tightly in his arms. “Ahh. I knew there had to be more. All those years I knew there had to be.”

  She might have echoed his words had it not been for the fact that it would have sounded tacky; besides, she knew that he knew what she was feeling. So, with her thighs spread over his and their bodies still joined, she settled against him, basking in his body’s warmth and musky smell, even the fine sheen of dampness that had nothing to do with the rain.

  “I love you, Jordan,” she whispered.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that? Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting for you to ask?”

  Jordan wore a look of happiness, then amusement. “Damn, but I never expected it’d happen this way.”

  “What way?”

  “Here, in this dingy boathouse with the rain coming down in sheets outside and a murder rap hanging over my—”

  For a second time that night she pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Shh. Don’t say it. Not now.”

  “Still,” he sighed, “I hadn’t planned it this way.”

  “You planned it?”

  “No, I didn’t plan it,” he chided, “at least, not in the sense you’re thinking. When I called you today all I knew was that I had to see you. It would have been enough if you had come. I needed to be away from the city and I needed to talk, and you were the only one I wanted to talk with.” He went on in a lighter tone. “But let me tell you, I’ve done my share of dreaming since last Friday—”

  “Last Friday? What happened then?”

  “That was when I asked my father if he’d ever—if we were—if Cassie and he.…”

  “If I was your sister?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Don’t laugh. I honestly believed it at the time.

  “I’ll bet Jack was thrilled you asked him.”

  “Yeah. Thrilled. Maybe he had a good laugh about it too.”

  “Come on, Jordan. I’m only teasing. But I want to know more about these plans of yours.”

  “My plans? Oh, my plans.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s see, there was candlelight and satin sheets—”

  She butted her head into his chest. “I knew that would come back to haunt me.”

  “Actually, it sounded pretty romantic, certainly more so than what you got.”

  “Are you kidding? Anyone who thinks that making love on cushions in the hull of a boat in a boathouse with a hurricane lamp for atmosphere isn’t romantic doesn’t have a sense of adventure.”

  “Whoever that is may be smarter than me.” He shifted. “These cushions are none too comfy.”

  “Uh-oh. You’re sore.” He had been, and still was, bearing the brunt of their combined weight, and beneath the cushions were hard wood spines.

  “Actually…” He grinned, and she knew exactly what he meant. That little shift he had made had moved him inside her the tiniest bit, creating the sweetest ripple of sensation. “No,” he said firmly. “This time we’ll go up to the house and make love in style.”

  But when he would have withdrawn Katia clamped her fingers on his hips. “Oh, no, buster. You’ve done this to me once too often.” She undulated her bottom. “Mmm. This time you’re going to finish what you’ve started.”

  “What I’ve started?”

  “Yes, what you’ve started,” she retorted, but it was feeble as retorts went, because what was inside her was growing by the minute, and its mere presence was enough to take her breath away.

  * * *

  Much later, they got ready to dash through the rain to the house. Their arms were laden with clothes and Katia’s case, and the blankets they had wrapped around themselves were blowing in the wind through the open door of the boathouse, exposing an arm here, a leg there, even a bun or two in the process.

  “This is insane,” Katia said. “George will think we’re crazy.”

  “George is in his cottage, probably sleeping. And even if he weren’t, he’s sure as hell not going to be patrolling the grounds in the pouring rain. He knows I’m here. Nothing I do can shock him anymore.”

  “Well, I don’t have your scandalous reputation, Jordan Whyte. What’ll he think of me if he sees me running half naked through the rain?”

  “He’s not going to see, and besides, the little nothings you wear by the pool aren’t exactly prim.”

  “That’s by the pool.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Come on. The sooner we leave the sooner we can get to the house. I could use a hot shower, and I haven’t eaten all day, and I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and I want to love you on nice, soft sheets.”

  “In that order?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Katia peered out at the gusting rain. “I don’t know, Jordan. I’m not sure anything’s worth going out in that.”

  To which Jordan responded by grabbing her hand and dragging her onward. When they reached the house, showers were, indeed, the first order of business. They were chilled. The hot water helped, as did the fact that they shared it.

  The second order of business was food. They ate as though they had been starved for days, then left the dishes, pans and mugs for morning and went to bed.

  Sleep, however, was not the next order of business. Jordan proceeded to love Katia as he had dreamed of doing so many times. There wasn’t an inch of her body that his hands didn’t touch or his mouth didn’t taste. And if some of the things he did stunned her, she had only to look down at his dark head or meet his impassioned gaze to realize that this was Jordan, this was Jordan, and she was in heaven. It was the fulfillment of a dream for her as well.

  Come morning—very late morning—they awoke in each other’s arms, where they lay, comfortably and peacefully, while they talked.

  “I’ve always known you loved me,” Katia mused, almost afraid of the happiness she felt.

  “You have, have you?”

  “Umm-hmmm. But I never knew in what way.”

  “Brother or lover?”

  She nodded against his chest. “I was confused.”

  “You were confused? Think of what I felt. When I was twenty-five you knocked my socks off. All of a sudden the little girl I’d adored like a sister was a gorgeous woman.”

  “I was only sixteen—”

  “Mmm. Trouble there. You sorely tried my patience. When you were nineteen and did that seduction bit—”

  “I did not! You were the one who suggested we go for a swim in the middle of the night! You were the one who made the first move!”

  “Yeah. But you weren’t fighting me.”

  “No,” she said more softly. She put her cheek to his chest so that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “Know what I did after that fiasco? I went back to New York and promptly went to bed with the guy I was seeing. It was awful. It hurt, and it was messy, and I was so angry afterward
—mostly at myself, though I never told John that—that I accused him of being the most inept lover in the world.” She moaned. “I was cruel. I don’t think I’ve ever been that mean to anyone, but I was hurting, and what I’d done had been done to spite you, and poor John was just … there. We broke up soon after.”

  “Was it better with Sean?”

  She did look at him then, propping her chin on his chest. “Better, yes. But it was never what I always felt it should be. I mean, he was wonderful in his way—warm, considerate, intelligent. I tried to convince myself that I loved him, but how could I do that when all along I was loving you? I knew the jig was up when Sean insisted on marriage.”

  Jordan said nothing, but the look of gratitude in his eyes was enough to propel her on.

  “I think he knew I’d never settle down with him. He was no dummy. He used the issue of marriage to force me into taking a stand.” She stroked his chest. “Ah, Jordan. Nothing I felt with Sean remotely resembled what I feel with you.”

  He grinned. “You’re good for my ego.”

  “Your ego doesn’t need my ‘good.’” There was more than a little accusation in her voice.

  “That’s not true,” he said with such boyish innocence that she had to laugh. But her laugh died when he grew somber. “Right about now I need all the help I can get.”

  She knew he was thinking of what awaited him on the mainland. “Let’s get married now.”

  “Now?” He looked around the bedroom. “I think we’re missing a few things, like a minister, uh, judge—”

  His word switch diverted her for a minute. “I went to temple a lot when I was in college. I never told you that, did I?”

  “No.”

  “I would have done it after Kenny died, but I was young, and when I was old enough I didn’t want to do it because I was afraid of upsetting my mother. When I got to New York I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

  “And?”

  “It was inspiring. Beautiful services. I did a lot of reading.”

  “And?”

  “I came to the realization that I’d been brought up with pretty universal values. I’m not sure that the specifics of any one religion are as important as overall decency. The most pious Jew, or Protestant or Catholic, for that matter, can be the scum of the earth if he chooses to say one thing and do another.”

  Jordan pulled her close with arms that trembled. “You are one remarkable lady.”

  “So when are you gonna make an honest one of me? We could go back to the city today—”

  “No. Not yet. I need a little more time alone with you.”

  “I have to be back in the office on Monday.”

  “So do I.”

  “Why don’t we do it Sunday night?”

  “Because there are little details like blood tests and a license.”

  “Come on, Jordan. You must have clout in one of the right places. Can’t we get those waived?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid to rush it right now.”

  “Because of Cavanaugh’s dirty business?”

  “It’s not Cavanaugh’s. It’s mine.” He rolled swiftly, setting her on her back and leaning over her. “I’d pull every string in the book to marry you today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but how can I do that when my future is a big fat question mark?”

  “You asked me to marry you.”

  “Maybe I was dreaming,” he said quietly.

  “Damn it, Jordan! Don’t do this to me!”

  He kissed her silent, let his lips linger longer, then raised his head and studied her sadly. “What worries me is what I’d be doing to you if we get married now, and within a week I’m charged with murder.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Well I do. There would be ugly words and even uglier publicity. I’d be up to my armpits in shit—”

  “I don’t care! I love you. Do you think it would be any better for me sitting on the sidelines watching? I want to be there with you, for you.”

  “You can do that from the sidelines. I don’t want you exposed to the muckrakers or the whoresons—”

  “I am not a weakling, Jordan,” she vowed, pushing him back when she came up on her elbows. Her face was set in a stubborn mask. “Marriage is for better or worse. I’d come forward to defend you whether we were married or not, so if you’re trying to protect me you’re wasting your breath. I can be just as poised in the line of fire as your mother or Lenore ever were—”

  “Yeah. They’ve never been in quite the same line of fire, and even then, look at the toll it’s taken on them—”

  “Because their marriages weren’t as strong as ours would be. We’re in this together, Jordan. If—and it’s a big if—this ever comes down to a trial, it would be good for the jury to see your new wife sitting right behind you in the courtroom. Don’t tie my hands. Please?”

  Jordan couldn’t take his eyes from her. He thought he had seen every facet of the woman, but he had been wrong. He had known she was strong; perhaps it was just that he’d never seen that strength channeled toward him, as it was now.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he murmured at last.

  “Only when I believe in something as strongly as I believe in this.”

  “You really think we should get married right away?”

  He was weakening; she tried to curb her excitement. “As soon as possible.”

  “Just a small ceremony in a judge’s chamber?”

  “No. Just a small ceremony at your parents’ house in Dover. I want them to be there, and my mother, and Gil and Lenore.”

  “You have it all planned,” he said, lips twitching at the corners.

  She nodded. “Right down to the wedding ring I want. It’s going to be a wide gold band. Shiny, but simple and unadorned. Saying only that we’re married. The rest I can say myself.”

  * * *

  On the following Wednesday morning Katia and Jordan were married. As Katia had stipulated, the ceremony took place in the Whytes’ living room. Not only were the Whytes and Cassie and the Warrens there, but their children and grandchildren had rushed to the scene, as though jumping on the happiness of the event as an antidote for the loss of the summer before.

  Unfortunately, the happiness was short-lived. The following Monday, Katia’s husband of five days was charged with the murders of his brother and sister-in-law.

  * * *

  At eight o’clock in the morning Cavanaugh appeared at the door of Jordan’s condominium. Jordan and Katia were finishing breakfast before leaving for work; all thought of food or work vanished the minute they saw the detective’s grim expression.

  Apparently, Jordan’s alibi witness could swear she had been with him on a Monday night rather than a Sunday night. Moreover, investigators had learned that on the morning of the murders, Jordan had visited an automatic teller on Madison Avenue and withdrawn four hundred dollars in cash, more than enough to cover the rental of scuba equipment and a car. Cavanaugh’s vote had been overridden.

  There was a brief rendition hearing in a Manhattan courtroom, then the drive to Boston. If Jordan thought the trip tedious, it was nothing compared to what followed. Not until very late that night did he and Katia finally make it to Dover. Jordan had called his father from New York soon after Cavanaugh had arrived. Jack had called Gil, who had quickly flown in from Washington, and together they had broken the news to their wives. All four were waiting when the couple arrived home.

  Natalie was immediately on her feet. She opened her arms to Jordan and held him tightly, releasing him only because the other three were clamoring for attention behind her.

  “What the hell is this nonsense—”

  “Who do they think they are—”

  “I don’t believe it—”

  These outbursts came from Jack, Gil and Lenore respectively. Nor could they stop.

  “Someone’s going to pay—”

  “That Holstrom is a no-good son of a bitch—”

  “I don’t believe it—” />
  “Believe it,” Jordan said, directing his quiet words to Lenore. It took every bit of his effort to keep his voice steady, but still he could not have managed were he not holding Katia’s hand tightly in his own. “Someone’s got a grudge. It looks like we’ll all be bleeding a little.”

  Natalie came forward, pale and shaky. “Was it true—what they said on the news—about what Mark was doing?”

  “It was true.”

  “You tried to stop him?”

  “Sure I did. And look where it got me. Mark and Deborah are dead anyway, and they’re saying I did it.”

  “Well, we don’t believe that,” Jack blustered.

  “Of course not!” Gil raged.

  Lenore whimpered, “Who could be so cruel as to commit murder—”

  “And put the blame on you!” Natalie finished heatedly. The upset she felt at learning of Mark’s activities was momentarily supplanted by anger. “It’s an insult to all of us!”

  Jack stepped in front of her and spoke in his most officious voice. “I’ve already spoken with the mayor. I bring a hell of a lot of business to this city, and if he can’t keep his police department on the up and up he’s not getting another dime from me.”

  “It’s not a matter of corruption,” Jordan protested. “The police are just doing their jobs—”

  Gil interrupted him. “Not this way, they’re not! They’re green with envy, the whole lousy bunch of them. They can’t stand it that we have more than they do. They’ve probably been waiting for years for something like this, and no doubt they’re toasting it up right now in some Southie bar. I’m holding a press conference in the morning—”

  “No, Gil,” Jordan stated firmly. “No press conference. Not yet, at least. We’re all angry and upset. Something said under conditions like these could be more damaging than not.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Katia and I have been with VanPelt for the past six hours—”