by Amii Lorin
She believed him. He wasn't just bluffing or trying to scare her, though he did. He meant it. Confused, frightened for her brothers, she cried, "Why are you taking this position? Do you hate us all so much?"
"Hate? The twins?" Again the brows rose in exaggerated surprise. "You forget, the twins are my brothers too. I'll be the making of them."
The fact did not escape her that he referred to Troy and Todd only. Shocked by a pain she had thought long dead, she argued. "You're being too hard on them."
"Hard?" He gave a short bark of laughter, shaking his head. "You call it hard to expect them to learn a business they have almost a half interest in? Good grief, they are twenty-one years old and have never done a full day’s work. Do you know how old I was when I went to work for my father?"
Subdued by his sudden anger, Anne shook her head dumbly.
"I was fourteen. Fourteen." His tone hardened on the repeated word. "And how old were you? Don't answer, I know. You've had almost sole care of those two ever since you were six. You've cared for, protected, and played general guard dog to them from the time they could say your name. How old were you when you went to work in the old man's office?"
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen," he repeated softly. "No carefree college days for Anne."
"I wasn't his daughter," she protested. "I never expected—
"No, you weren't his daughter," he interrupted. "You were, for all intents and purposes, his slave."
"He was very good to me." She almost screamed at him.
"Why the hell shouldn't he have been?" he shouted. "You never made a move he disapproved of."
Anne drew deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down. This was proving nothing. Her voice more steady, she said quietly, "I won't argue anymore about this, Jud. If there is nothing else you want to discuss I'll go up to moth—"
"There is," he cut in firmly. "If you have any papers or anything else pertaining to the office here at home, I'd like you to get them together. My secretary will be in the office tomorrow and it will be easier for her if—
Now it was Anne's turn to interrupt. Her voice hollow with shock, she cried, "Your secretary? But that's my office."
Even though his voice was bland, it chilled her.
"I don't need you in that office, Anne; that's what I pay my secretary for. So if there's anything here, collect it before tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make."
Turning quickly, Anne left the room. She heard him dialing as she closed the door. Then she stood staring at her trembling hands. That easily, that coolly, she had been dismissed, not only from the room but from the office as well. Fighting tears, she ran upstairs to her bedroom. What was she supposed to do now?
Chapter 2
Anne paced the deep rose carpet in her bedroom, Jud's words still ringing in her ears. If she wasn't going to go to the office and he didn't want her to move out of the house, what was she to do? Get another job? Work for a rival company? That didn't make much sense. Maybe he meant her to stay at home, run the house, live the kind of life her mother did. Women's clubs and bridge games and shopping week in, week out. Anne shivered. She would go out of her mind. Maybe if the twins were still small enough to keep her running, but not now. She was too used to the office. Tears trickling down her face, she riled silently. Didn't he realize she knew almost as much about the managerial end of the business as his father had? She could be of help to him while he was familiarizing himself with it. Why had he turned her out? Did he hate her that much?
In frustration she flung herself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had changed so drastically. Uninvited and unwelcome, a picture of him as he was the last time she saw him formed in her mind. How young she had been then. Young and naive and so very much in love. Anne's face burned at the memory of how very gullible she had been at fifteen.
* * * *
It had been Jud's twenty-fifth birthday and Anne had waited with growing impatience for him to come home to dinner. She felt her spirits drop when her stepfather came home alone and when he told her mother that Jud would not be home for dinner as he had a date, her spirits sank completely.
The hours had seemed to drag endlessly as Anne, unable to sleep, sat in her room, ears strained for the sound of his car on the driveway. On the table beside her small bedroom chair lay a tiny birthday present, its fancy bow almost twice the size of the package. At intervals Anne touched the bow gently, lovingly. She had saved so long to buy this gift, had been so eager to give it to him. Eager and also a little nervous. It was not quite a year since she had first seen the brush-finished gold cuff links and she had known at once she wanted to give them to him. At first she had thought of giving them to him at Christmas but she had not been able to save enough money. So she had taken the money she had and had talked to the store manager. He in turn had removed the links from the display window, put her name on them, and had set them aside for her. She had made the last payment on them the previous week. Now, staring at the small, wrapped box, she saw the matte surface of the gold ovals, could see the initials engraved on them. J.C.C. Judson Carmichael Cammeron. How she loved him. And how she prayed he'd like her offering.
The slam of the car door startled Anne out of a daze. The front door being closed brought her fully aware. She heard him come up the stairs, pass her door, and close his own door farther down the hall. What should she do? It was past two thirty. Would he be angry if she went to his room now? Should she wait until morning?
Anne hesitated long minutes. The she thought fiercely, No, it won't be the same. By morning his birthday will be truly over.Without giving herself time to change her mind, she slipped out of her room and along the thickly carpeted hall on noiseless bare feet. She tapped on his door softly then held her breath. It seemed to take a very long time for him to open the door, but when he did she knew why at once. He had obviously just come out of the shower, as his hair was damp and he was wearing nothing except a mid-calf-length belted terry cloth robe. At the sight of him Anne felt her resolve weaken, but before she could utter an apology or whisper good night, he caught her hand and said with concern, "Anne! What is it? Is something wrong?"
Her voice pleading for understanding, Anne shook her head quickly and answered softly, "No, nothing. I'm—I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm silly. I wanted to give you your birthday present and I couldn't wait till morning."
Jud sighed, but his voice was gentle. "You're right; you are silly." He paused, then chided, "Well, where is this present you couldn't wait to give me?"
Flushing, Anne slid her hand into the pocket of the cotton housecoat she'd slipped the gift into before leaving her room. As she withdrew the gift, he gave a light tug on the hand he was still holding and murmured ruefully, "You had better come in. We don't want to wake the household for the event of giving and receiving one gift."
She stepped inside and he reached around her to close the door before taking the small package from the palm of her hand. Silently he removed the wrapping and silently he flipped the case open and stared a very long time at the cuff links. When he raised his eyes to hers they were serious, questioning. Fear gripped her and she blurted breathlessly, "Don't you like them, Jud?"
"Like them? Of course I like them, they're beautiful. But, chicken, they must have cost a bundle. Why?"
More nervous than before, Anne plucked at the button on her robe.
"I—I saw them in the window and—and I wanted to buy them for you."
"When was this?" he asked softly.
"Almost—not quite a year ago."
"And you've been saving all this time?" His voice was even softer now and Anne shivered. His tone—something— was making her feel funny.
"Are you angry with me, Jud?"
"Angry? With you? Oh, honey, I could never be really angry at you."
"I'm glad," she whispered. "I wanted to give them to you tonight so badly. I could have cried when you didn't come home for dinner."
His beautiful amber eyes
seemed to flicker, grow shadowed and he carefully laid the jeweler's box on the night table by his bed then brought his hand to her face. Again a tiny shiver went through her as his fingers lightly touched her skin. Now his voice was barely above a murmur. "And do I get a birthday kiss too?"
"Yes." A mere whisper broke from a suddenly dry throat.
His blond head descended and then she felt his lips touch hers lightly and tenderly. The pressure on her lips increased and then he groaned softly and pulled his head away with a muttered growl. "You had better get out of here, Anne."
She felt stricken, shattered, and as he turned away she cried, without thinking, "Jud, please, I love you. What have I done wrong?"
He swung back, his eyes filled with pain.
"Wrong? Oh, chicken, you've done nothing wrong. Don't you see? Can't you tell? I want to kiss you properly and you're so young. Too young. I think you'd better get out of here before I hurt you."
His eyes burned into hers, and with a feeling of fierce elation she couldn't begin to understand running through her, she pleaded, "Oh, Jud, please don't make me go. Tell me, show me, what to do, please."
He moved closer to her, his eyes searching hers as if looking for answers. Again his hand touched her face lightly, then his forefinger brushed, almost roughly, across her lips. Her lips parted fractionally in automatic reaction and leaning closer he whispered, "Like that, honey." Again his finger brushed her mouth, this time the lower only, and she could hardly hear his murmured "Part your lips for me, Anne" before his lips were against hers. She obeyed him and felt a shock of mingled fear and joy rip though her as his mouth crushed hers. Never could she have imagined the riot of sensations that stormed her senses.
When his mouth left hers, she gave a low "no" in protest, and grasping her arm, he whispered, "Come."
He led her to the side of the bed, sat her down then sat down beside her. Cupping her head in his hands he stared broodingly into her face a long time before saying quietly, "Sweetheart, if you're at all frightened, tell me now while I can still send you back to your room."
Her eyes clear, she faced him without fear. "I could never be afraid of you, Jud. How could I be? I told you. I love you."
"Yes, you told me," he groaned. Then he was on his feet, moving away from her. "But, honey, I'm not talking about brother-sister love. You know the facts of life?"
She looked up indignantly at the sharp question. "Yes, of course I do."
His tone lost none of its sharpness. "Then you know what I want?"
Unable to voice the answer, Anne lowered her eyes, nodded her head.
"Honey, look at me."
Some of the edge had left his tone and in relief Anne looked up.
"Ever since the day you first came to this house, I loved you. Like a brother with a small sister, I loved you, wanted to protect you. A little over a year ago, some months after your fourteenth birthday, I began to feel different." Anne felt a pain twist at her heart and she would have cried out but he held up his hand to explain. "Suddenly one day I realized I did not love you as a brother loves a sister. I was in love with you, the way a man loves a woman." His eyes closed but not before Anne saw the pain in them.
"Jud." She made to get up and go to him.
"No." It was an order. Anne stayed where she was. His eyes were again open. His voice wracked with torment, he went on. "I don't know how. I don't know why. But, dear God, Anne, I love you and you are too young. Get out of here, chicken. Go back to your room while I can still let you go."
"No."
"Anne."
"No, Jud," she repeated firmly then more softly, "Jud, please. I don't want to go. I want to stay with you."
In three strides he was back beside her, his hands again cradling her head. "You are a small, beautiful fool. And I will very likely burn in hell, but, honey, I need you so, want you so."
This time when his mouth touched hers she needed no prompting. Eager to experience again that wild riot of sensations, her lips parted beneath his searching, hungry mouth. His hand dropped to her shoulders then moved down and over her back, drawing her slight, soft body against his large, hard one.
Slowly, reluctantly, his lips released hers, moved over her face and she felt her breath quicken as he dropped feather-light kisses across her cheeks, on her eyelids, and along the edge of her ear. Breathing stopped completely for a moment when his teeth nipped gently on her lobe and he whispered urgently, "Anne, I want you to touch me. Put your hands on my chest, inside the robe."
Her hands had been lying tightly clasped on her lap and at his words she relaxed them, brought them slowly up. Slowly, shyly, she parted the lapels of his robe and placed her palms against his hair-roughened skin. Enjoying the feel of him, she grew braver and slid her hands across the broad expanse of his chest. He shuddered, moaned deep hi his throat when her fingertip brushed his nipple. Made still braver by his reaction to her touch, she whispered. "Do you like that, Jud?"
"Like it?" he husked. "Lord, sweetheart, I love the feel of your hands on me. I just hope you enjoy the feel of my touch half as much." His hands moved to the buttons of her robe, unfastening them quickly. His lips close to hers, he murmured, "I don't think we need all this material between us."
He slipped the robe off then gathered her close against him, his mouth driving her to the edge of delirium as he explored the hollow at the base of her throat. Anne stiffened with a gasp when his hand moved caressingly over her breasts, his touch seeming to scorch her through the thin cotton of her short nightie, but the heady excitement his gently teasing fingers aroused soon drowned all resistance. His mouth sought hers over and over again, becoming more urgently demanding with each successive kiss and Anne felt desire leap and grow deep inside.
She felt a momentary chill when his arms, his mouth, released her and he leaned away from her. Dimly she was aware of his movement as he shrugged out of his robe and tossed it aside. The flame inside her leaped higher when he pulled her close against his nakedness. Afire with a need she didn't fully understand, inhibitions melting rapidly in that flame, she slid her hands along his body, loving the feel of his smooth warm skin. When she ran her fingers up and over his rigid, arched spine, he shivered and groaned against her mouth. "I could kiss you forever but, Anne, baby, it's no longer enough. Raise your arms."
She obeyed at once and sat meekly as he tugged her nightie up and over her head. When she was about to drop her arms, he caught her wrists in one of his hands and pulled them high over her head then forced her down against the bed. Stretched out below him, she felt her cheeks go pink as his eyes went slowly, burningly, over her body. Her color deepened when his hand followed the route his eyes had mapped out and her eyes closed with embarrassment when, without conscious thought, her body moved sensuously under his fingers.
"Open your eyes, Anne," he ordered softly, and when she did she found herself staring into warm liquid amber.
"Don't ever be embarrassed or ashamed with me. From tonight on, you are mine. You belong to me. No, we belong to each other, for I am surely yours. There's no reason for you to be shy with me. You are beautiful and I love every inch of you. Do you understand?"
Unable to speak around the emotion blocking her throat, Anne nodded. He kissed her hard before lifting his head to whisper, "Tell me again that you love me, Anne."
"I love you, Jud, more than anything or anyone else on this earth."
Anne heard his breath catch and then his head lowered and his mouth followed the path of his eyes and hands, branding her with his ownership. They were both breathing heavily, almost painfully, when his hard body moved over hers and between short, fierce kisses, he vowed, "I love you, Anne. I'll always love you."
Neither one of them heard the door open and they both went rigid when Jud's father said coldly, "Get away from her, Jud."
Jud hesitated a second then through clenched teeth spat out, "Get the hell out of here, Dad."
"I told you to get away from her and I mean it. Now, move."
Judson Cammeron had not raised his voice, but there was an icy, angry command in his tone. Overwhelmed with disappointment and shame, Anne moaned softly, "Jud, please."
Jud remained still, every muscle in his body tense with anger; then he moved, slowly, pulling his robe over her body as he went.
Shaking with reaction, Anne lay listening to the silence crackle angrily between father and son. Her stepfather finally broke the silence. "Haven't you had enough with all the girls you've had in the last year? Must you bring your appetite home? Use your stepsister? Good God, man, she is little more than a child."
Jud started tightly, "Dad, you—" His father cut him off.
"I'm taking Anne to her room, but I'll be back." He tucked the robe around her shaking body and lifted her in his arms. At the door he paused, his voice thick with disgust. "Get some clothes on."
He carried her to her room, laid her on the bed, then turned his back to her, saying, "Put on a nightgown and get into bed. I'll be back. I'm going to get you something to help you sleep."
Tears running down her face, she leaped off the bed the minute he closed the door. With jerky movements she pulled a clean nightie over her head, crawled back into bed, turned her face into her pillow, and sobbed brokenly.
By the time he returned she was shaking so badly he had to help her sit up and hold the glass for her while she chokingly swallowed the two pills he handed her.
"Don't cry so, Anne, you'll make yourself ill. I don't blame you in this, you're too young to understand."
"Mother?" Anne sobbed.
"She's asleep and I give you my word she, nor anyone else, will not hear of this."
He left her and slowly, as the pills, whatever they were, took effect and she grew drowsy, the sobs subsided.
It had been late when Anne woke the next morning. A beautiful Saturday morning that didn't fit at all with her depressed state. Feeling hurt, uncertain, very young, Anne showered and dressed, afraid to think about Jud and what had happened. She felt ashamed that her stepfather had found them the way they were, but she felt no guilt. She loved Jud and he said he loved her and their lovemaking, aborted though it had been, was a natural outpouring of that love. Things might be uncomfortable for a while, but somehow she felt sure Jud would make it right. On that thought she had squared her shoulders and gone downstairs.