"Now, you listen to me!" he grated between clinched teeth. "You've got to understand—"
Molly tried vainly to free herself. "I understand very well, mister," she exclaimed fiercely.
With a muffled curse, he pulled her up against him, his muscled strength holding her there, stilling her struggles. He pressed her head against his shirt. At close quarters his masculine strength had a hypnotic effect on her. She wanted to lean forward and let her whole weight rest on his chest. She felt a sense of unreality at what was happening.
His maleness made her legs feel weak. She melted against him. In the circle of his arms and hearing the heavy beat of his heart, she was conscious of a change in his breathing. It quickened.
He must have sensed her sudden, abject surrender. From somewhere far away she heard him say, "Molly… Molly…" the words sounded like a groan.
She felt his hand in her hair tugging her head back and before she could speak or move his mouth came down over hers in a hard, angry kiss that took her breath away. There was no gentleness, no tenderness. He kissed her savagely and thoroughly. She struggled and a little whimper came from the back of her throat. Then she arched against him, not yet understanding the strange new emotions that he had awakened in her body. She was only conscious of the pressure of his mouth and his long legs as his hands pulled the entire length of her body tight against his. Without knowing why, or what she was doing, her arms went up and around his neck and clung there.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she thought, so this is how it feels? This need, spreading through her loins, was making her incapable of feeling anything but this intense desire, and not understanding this sensation, she knew only that what she needed was him.
He pulled his mouth away from hers and looked down at her.
"Oh, Christ," he said in self-disgust. He looked at her lips beginning to swell from his kiss, and at her eyes wide and questioning. He hadn't meant to touch her, much less kiss her. He turned on his heel and went to his room, closing the door behind him with more force than was necessary.
Molly stood where he had left her. Her breath was still catching in her throat and her hands went up to touch her burning, flushed cheeks. She sank back down on the couch. She couldn't believe this had happened to her. The memory of the way she had clung to him brought waves of hot color to her cheeks and she wondered, unhappily, what he must have thought of her wanton behavior. She dreaded the moment when she must face him again.
The moment she dreaded came sooner than she expected. Adam came out of his room and stood looking down at her, his face considerably softer. Her body tensed and her heart beginning to beat erratically again as she withstood his dark gaze.
"I'm sorry I frightened you, Molly, but you did provoke me!" He took a small package from his pocket and tossed it into her lap. "A gift from Dad. He remembered he hadn't given you a wedding present."
Molly's troubled gaze went from him to the package in her lap and realizing he was waiting for her to open it, untied the wrappings with shaking fingers. Lifting the lid of a small jewelry box she saw, nestling on a bed of dark velvet, a pair of exquisite diamond earrings. She gave a small cry of surprise.
"I couldn't possibly accept these. They are far too valuable." She closed the lid on the box and thrust it toward him.
"Dad wants you to have them." He hesitated. "They were my mother's."
"Your mother's?" She flushed to her hairline.
"Yes," he answered brusquely.
She couldn't help herself. Her eyes were swimming with tears.
"Your father has paid me a great compliment and for his sake I'll be honored to wear your mother's earrings. But only for the year we're together. After that I'll insist you take them back."
"You're to keep them. They're not a loan."
"I couldn't do that, Adam, they should belong to your permanent wife," she whispered huskily with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I'll probably not marry again and Dad gave them to you," he said stubbornly.
"I wish we didn't have this shadow of deceit hanging over us," she said softly. "Your father is too sweet to be deceived this way."
"It's rather late to think of that now," he said dryly. "In any case, what's done is done." Then, as his eyes mocked her, "Is that a chocolate cake on the table?"
"It's for you and Tim-Two. He likes cake, too, and any flavor will do."
Not knowing what else to do she took the earrings from the box and attempted to attach them to her ears. Adam watched her.
"Here let me do it." He reached down his hand to pull her to her feet.
She felt a tremor in her throat as his warm breath fell on her face. He fastened first one earring and then the other to her ears, before taking her by the forearms and holding her away from him. He tilted his head first one way and then the other as he gave her careful scrutiny. Her pulse was beating very fast. She was sure he had noticed, because he looked from her ears to her eyes, to the mouth he had so recently kissed, and to her throat where the pulse was beating.
"Very nice," he said smiling, "very, very nice." She smiled back at him, and he added softly, "Am I forgiven?"
Silently she nodded her head. "Then let's have dinner… hmm? I want to tie into that cake."
Molly caught him looking at her often during dinner. For the first time he helped her clear off the table when they were finished. Afterward he put records on the player and turned down the gaslight. When Molly went to sit in front of the fireplace, he went to his room, then returned with a pipe and a sack of tobacco before sinking down on the couch and filling the pipe. Using tongs he lifted a coal from the fire bed, held it to the tobacco, and sucked on the pipe. When he sat down again, he was puffing gently.
"You're full of surprises," Molly said and breathed in the good tobacco smell. "I didn't know you smoked."
He looked at the pipe in his hand. "I seldom do, but sometimes I like one after dinner, if you don't mind."
"I rather like it. Dad always smoked a pipe after supper."
The familiar scratching on the back door sent Molly to let Dog in. He followed her to her chair and laid his big head in her lap. She caressed the soft fur on top of his head and scratched his ears, all the time aware Adam was watching. Soon Dog returned to a far corner of the room, away from the heat of the fire. He sprawled in the corner, his neck stretched out, his heavy jowls flat on the floor.
"How long have you had him?" Adam asked.
"About four years. Jim brought him to me. He was just a bounding puppy then, all ears and feet."
"Is he the only dog you have here?"
"Yes. He's been a faithful friend," she said wistfully. "You know a dog responds to kindness, regardless if the person that gives it is rich or poor, skinny or fat, pretty or ugly, dumb or smart, I could go on and on…" she said with a laugh.
"Yes, that's true," Adam said, as the clock on the mantel sounded the hour. He got up to wind the clock. "Are you about ready to call it a day?" He was still facing the mantel.
Molly looked at the clock, it was half past ten! Embarrassment drew her to her feet. He wanted her to leave the room so he could go to his, but was too polite to say so! That was the reason for the small talk, biding his time until she went to bed. How stupid of her not to realize that. She went to the kitchen and turned down the lamp. Looking back she saw him rubbing his eyes and his temples. He showed no sign he knew she had left the room. Calling Dog to her, she put him out the back door.
"Do you have a headache, Adam?" she asked in a calm voice which gave away nothing of what she was feeling. "I can get an aspirin for you."
"I would appreciate it," he said, going back to the couch.
She took two tablets from the bottle on the shelf and drew a glass of water from the hand pump. She carried them to him and waited for him to drink.
"Thanks." He put the glass on the table, took her hand, and pulled her down beside him on the couch. She was so taken by surprise that she offered no prote
st, even when he put his arm around her and drew her close against him. She was terribly conscious of the hard muscles in his arm as he cuddled her, turning her so that her breasts were against the side of his chest and her head on his shoulder. He stretched his long legs out to the fire and leaned his head back.
"Each night when we sit here, I've wondered what it would feel like to hold you like this," he said tiredly.
She was stunned into silence. She felt his fingers at the nape of her neck and at the top of her head feeling for the pins as he pulled them out of her hair. Heavy, silken, and bright as gold it cascaded down over her shoulders. He brought a big handful forward over her breast.
"I've been wanting to do this, too," he said huskily, twisting a large rope of it around his hand.
Molly turned her face into his shoulder and nuzzled his warm flesh. The crackle of the fire and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds she heard above the beating of his heart. Her arm went around his waist and she held him, feeling the tension of the muscles in his long back.
He turned and buried his face in her neck, pushing back her hair and letting his free hand travel over her as if he were blind and trying to know her through his fingertips; over her arms, down over her breast, lingering there, then to the narrow waist and on to her rounded hips where he molded her full length to his.
"Molly…" he whispered, "I don't know if I'll be able to keep my bargain not to touch you."
He raised his head to look at her. He was so close she could see every little detail of his face: the dark, smoldering eyes; the strong nose; the sensual curve of his mouth; the darkened cheekbones; the brown column of his throat. She could smell the warm smell of his body and the tobacco smell of his breath. She had never been in such an intimate position before and an aching stirred inside her.
She saw his mouth, the firm lips slightly parted, then it was against hers, rough and demanding with an insistence that sent her blood thundering through her ears. His hands were moving everywhere, touching her hungrily, fondling, an urgency in their movements. Naked desire mounted in her head leaving her trembling in his arms. She slid her fingers inside his shirt so she could touch his skin, some inner femininity giving her the knowledge of how to caress him.
Adam was breathing heavily. He tore his mouth from hers and his lips traveled over her face and then, as if compelled, back to her mouth. Unskilled as she was and although she clung to him with her hand on his bare chest feeling the trembling of his body, she sensed he was not getting satisfaction from her inexperienced lips. He drew back and kissed the violet eyes closed, smoothed the damp hair from her forehead, fondled the small ears, and gazed at her upturned face.
"Oh, Molly," he whispered, "I'm going to despise myself tomorrow. You're so sweet!" He kissed the corner of her trembling mouth.
"Tell me what to do," she breathed against his lips.
"No," he muttered and continued dragging his lips over her face.
"Tell me." She brought her hand up to his face and turned his lips toward hers.
His hands slid down her back and as if the feel of her shocked his senses, she felt his body shudder.
"I want you. I want to make love to you," he said, and then urgently, against her cheek, "open your mouth for me!" She parted her lips and his mouth covered hers.
The hungry demand of Adam's mouth was a whirlpool into which she thought she would drown. Now she knew why her earlier kisses had been so unfulfilling. His mouth was conveying his tortured need of her more powerfully than any words could say. He had aroused her and now she was no longer in control of her emotions. His hands stroked down her body with an eagerness he didn't try to disguise, which made her flame into receptive response.
He wanted her so much it was agony, but he knew so much better than she what this kind of lovemaking would lead to. A stab of remorse tore through him, and he pulled himself out of her arms and got to his feet.
"Molly, are you aware of what this is leading to? I want no regrets!" he said harshly. He took a long deep breath and looked at her as she lay where he had left her, her face hidden in the cushions of the couch.
A frightening awareness of the seriousness of what had happened came over her. She felt hot, shamed blushes covering her face and neck. Flushing with humiliation and self-disgust, she kept her face turned from him.
"Molly," he said softly. "You're young and beautiful. I'm alone here with you. I'm a man, Molly; a man with a man's desires. I've been used to having a woman and it's going to be a long winter."
The callous words struck Molly like a cold dash of water. "It's going to be a long winter"; he had used the words before. Tempestuous feelings were threatening to overpower her. Love and hate, she thought. She ran her tongue along the inside of her lower lip where his had been moments before. The cold fingers that had touched her heart on hearing his callous words had turned into a firebrand that was a burning anger.
Adam was still talking softly; whispering, persuading. "You've a lot to learn, my little innocent," he whispered, "but I guarantee it won't be against your will."
At that Molly raised her head. Her voice, when it came was shaking.
"Oh, damm you, damm you," she said with trembling lips, her eyes dry and blazing with fury. "It's going to be a long winter and you think you'll amuse yourself with a new experience, a stupid, foolish, willing virgin!" The words tumbled from her mouth. "And to think I was beginning to think you as wonderful as your father said you were. You're nothing but an opportunist. You married me to get my father's files and while you're about it, you'll sleep with his daughter because it's going to be a long winter. Let me tell you this Adam Reneau, I'm a stupid innocent, but I'm no man's plaything. If it's a whore you want—"
Adam grabbed her and shook her hard, his hands biting into her arms.
"Stop it! Don't use that word! You're my wife and what I suggested was for our mutual pleasure." His hard dark eyes were fastened onto her flushed, angry face.
"Your pleasure, not mine!" She glared at him, her face stiff with rebellion.
"Your pleasure too, Molly, I'd have seen to that." The irony of that ate into her. The anger had gone out of his voice and he tried to draw her close. "I'm not the kind of man to take a woman against her will."
Molly wrenched herself away from him. "I don't know what kind of man you are." She looked him in the eye, her mouth firm now with determination. "You're leaving in a year. You want no ties or emotional entanglements. You made that clear before we made the… agreement."
"You're right, I don't. I'm leaving at the end of the year. My plans have been made for a long time." His voice was level and controlled, but his dark eyes were bright with an emotion which she was not quite certain she recognized. "But that has nothing to do with now."
"Then there's no more to be said. Thank you for the valuable lesson I learned tonight." She flipped her hair back behind her ears and walked calmly from the room.
In spite of himself, Adam grinned.
When she closed the door on him, she leaned against it and wished she was far away, anywhere away from him. The thought of Aunt Dora's house was not as awesome as before, but this was her house and she would not leave it! Her frantic mind tried to think of ways to get him out of her house, out of her life. She could fake an illness and insist on staying in town. She could say she wanted to visit a friend in Portland. She could go back to the convent. She didn't want to do any of those things. What a fool she had been! The year to her now seemed endless. How could her father have been so wrong about a man's character?
She shut the door leading to the bathroom. With slow movements she undressed and slipped into her nightdress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and pulled the tangled hair out from under the neck of her nightdress. Divided in the back it fell down the front of her, almost to her waist. She looked at it and hated it. In a sudden fit of rebellion at all that had happened to her, she grabbed the hand shears from her dressing table and began to cut. She cut off handfuls of hair an
d cried, her eyes so blinded with tears she could hardly see what she was doing. Doggedly, she sawed with the shears and threw the hair on the floor. When none was left to cover her breasts, she stopped, turned off her battery light, lay down in her bed, and buried her head in the pillow. Misery and humiliation flowed over her. She had acted like a recalcitrant child.
She slept fitfully during the first part of the night, chased by nightmares, then in the small hours of the morning fell into a deep sleep to awaken with a pounding headache, a hangover of the emotional evening before.
She got out of bed, dressed herself in jeans and shirt, and kept her eyes averted from her dressing table mirror. After making her bed and picking up the strands of hair from the floor, she turned to look at the results of last night's ravages. She brushed the tangled hair that came now in uneven lengths to her shoulders. Her face was pale and her eyes were rimmed with deep, dark circles. Her mouth was slightly swollen as if it had been kissed many times, but it was set, now, in a grim line. She noticed, with a surge of humiliation, a small blue spot Adam's lips had made on her neck and drew up the collar of her shirt and buttoned it to hide the brand he had left on her.
Before her humiliation reached an intolerable level and she would be unable to face him, she picked up a ribbon, flung her hair back and gathered it in at the nape of her neck, and tied the ribbon around it.
A strange kind of calm had come over her by the time she was ready to leave the bedroom. She went into the kitchen as she did every morning. Tim-Two had already been there and the range was ready for breakfast. She put the granite coffeepot on to boil and set the table with one place setting. While placing the slices of bacon in the skillet she heard Adam's door open and turned to face him.
He stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets with the same black thundercloud expression on his face that he had the first day they met. Under the slanting brows his eyes were blazing black between the narrowed lids. Not at all unnerved by his mood she looked straight at him.
Marriage to a Stranger Page 7