Promises to Keep

by Maura McGiveny

  White-hot anger ran like a rod down her back, making her rigid. She forced herself to face him without flinching. 'He caught me by surprise in the forest,' she said stiffly. 'If you really saw what you were looking at you'd know I wasn't kissing him back. He only did it because he knew you were standing there and he wanted to make you jealous. Can't you see that? He hopes to come between us so it'll be easier for him to walk away with Jon. If I keep looking at him it's because I can't understand how someone could look so much like you yet be so different.'

  'Keep your lies,' Logan grated through tightly clenched teeth. 'I don't trust you where Paul is concerned.'

  'But you expect me to trust you with Margaret?' The question came rushing out unexpectedly in a voice choked with bitterness, and it sounded like an accusation.

  'Margaret's got nothing to do with this!'

  'Oh no? Then why did she leave her brand on your mouth?'

  Logan ran the back of his hand across his mouth and looked chagrined when he saw the bright red lipstick. 'I can explain—'

  'Oh, please! Spare me that at least.' Kathryn had to get out of here. A dull roaring started in her ears and bile was thick in her throat. Turning away, she groped blindly towards the stairs, sick with the irony of her timing. To think she had actually been going to offer herself to him tonight! She was his wife and she had no right to deny him. What a laugh! He was a normal healthy male. How could she think he was waiting patiently for her?

  'Kathryn!' he called her, but she didn't hear him and he was forced to go after her. Gripping her by her shoulders, he pulled her back against his heated length.

  The mist in her mind cleared at once and she struggled wildly. 'Don't touch me!' she shouted, suddenly catching the sultry fragrance of Margaret's perfume. It was all over him and it drove her mad. She jerked herself free and swung around to face him. 'How dare you?' Her breath was shallow and gasping as her body bent forward from the waist. Her fists clenched. 'You're no better than Paul!'

  It was a mistake. As soon as she said Paul's name, she knew it was a mistake.

  All the colour left his face at her look of loathing. 'Kathryn.' He took a step towards her, but she fell back, never taking her stricken eyes off him. 'For God's sake!'

  She started to turn away, but he reached out and caught at her wrists, swinging her around to face him. She resisted, bending backwards to loosen his grip, but he bent over her, holding her hands behind her, bringing his face close to hers. She swung her head from side to side frantically and her soft black hair brushed across his face. Its clean scent maddened him. The long white length of her throat was there before his eyes, holding him motionless for an instant, then his mouth helplessly fastened on the soft warm hollow. Her pulse pounded against his lips and he felt the silken flesh cling to them, warm and quivering and desirable.

  All at once she became very still, her body seeming to have a will of its own, refusing to listen to the frantic demand she gave to be free. She was languid and weak, moulding herself to all the powerful angles and planes of his body. She felt the swelling pressure of her breasts thrusting against his shirt, the fragile bones of her wrists crushed in his hands, the softness of her thighs pressed intimately into the hardness of his.

  A low groan deep in his throat suddenly brought her to wild life and she began to struggle in earnest before finally pulling herself away from him. Her eyes were a furious blaze of blue terror as she turned at once and ran towards the stairs without a word.

  After a stunned second, Logan ran after her. She was already halfway up the stairs and he could see her long white legs flashing in the dim lamplight as she lifted her dress to keep from tripping on it. He lunged after her, trying to catch one of her ankles, but she was too fast for him.

  Sprinting down the long hallway, she reached the safety of her bedroom and began to slam the door shut, when his hand flung out and held it. Struggling, they pushed it back and forth between them in a ridiculous battle. She could hear his noisy grunting breaths and the sound filled her with fear. Panic rose in her throat. She knew what he intended to do. The thought gave her an added strength as she thrust her shoulder against the door in one last effort to save herself.

  But Logan was stronger and with a mighty heave, he crashed the door back on its hinges, throwing Kathryn back into the room. Her eyes were distended and wildly blue, never leaving his face as she awkwardly picked herself up from the floor. Her heart was thumping madly in her throat.

  He advanced slowly, his handsome mouth twisted. 'No better than Paul?' he grated.

  He continued to come towards her, his eyes glazed and hard, his mouth a thin bluish line in his white face, his chest heaving with tortured gasps. 'You compare me to Paul? I've always tried to be a man of honour. But that's not what you really want, is it? Paul takes—and you women love it. You say I'm no better? All right, then, I won't be better! I'll take too. You, Kathryn. I'll take you.'

  'No, please—'

  He was on her, holding her still with one hand and using the other to grasp the neck of her dress and rip it down her body to her waist. Then his mouth was on hers, swallowing her hoarse cries as she struggled frantically, kicking and clawing at any part of him she could reach.

  His hand tore at her bra, then cupped one warm small breast, his surprisingly gentle fingers closing over it making a quick gasping breath lodge in her throat. Stumbling, he pushed her towards the bed until she was against it, her knees bending from the pressure as she fell backwards. His body was heavy and heated and hard, his mouth still on hers, forcing it open in the shout of his desire, filling it with his warm moist breath. There was no stopping him. One knee slid between her legs, trying to force them apart, but the skirt of her dress was in the way.

  In one last desperate attempt to free herself, her body arched instinctively, trying to fling him off. He dragged his mouth away from her and lifted his head to look at her, ravenous desire burning hotly in his eyes.

  'You're mine, Kathryn. You're not saving it for Paul.'

  'It's never been Paul,' she gasped, but he wasn't listening. Kneeling over her, he ripped open his shirt, sending the buttons scattering all over the bed. He pulled it out from the waistband of his pants and shrugged out of it and sent it sailing on to the floor. Little beads of moisture stood on his skin. His powerful muscles rippled in his chest and arms when he moved.

  'Take off what's left of your clothes,' he muttered, looking at the quivering whiteness of her body with open hunger.

  Kathy trembled violently, unable to take her eyes off him, and embarrassment swirled through her mind and shame and utter humiliation in a hot suffocating wave. She wouldn't surrender to him. 'No, Logan. If you're going to rape me, I'm not making it easy for you.'

  'Rape?' The word seemed to stop him cold. He loomed over her, still straddling her slender body but he didn't move. His eyes were deep and brilliantly blue as they searched her face. 'It won't be rape,' he said slowly.

  Her throat constricted as she tried to control her shivering fear and the nervous chattering of her teeth. Her hands were at her sides, tightly clenched into the rich ivory silk bedspread. This was so different from what she imagined earlier. She had thought to find herself in bed with Logan, yes. But not like this! Never like this. Where was the love that was supposed to make it beautiful? This couldn't happen to her. Not without love.

  She looked straight into his face and her eyes helplessly filled with huge wet tears that rolled down into her tangled hair.

  For a long moment Logan simply knelt there looking at her. A spasm of pain crossed his face, then all the hard urgency of his body left him. 'Kathryn,' he said quietly. The sound was full of defeat. He knelt a moment longer, looking at her, then moved away.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and dragged his hands through his hair, numbly looking about him. Most of his mother's things were gone. Kathryn had cleared the dressing table and all that lay on the shining surface was a plain brush and comb. All the rest of the small tables and chests an
d chairs had been removed, the crystal bottles and perfumes, the porcelain figurines and marble miniatures, all were gone. Logan looked at the unadorned ivory walls, the frothy white curtains billowing out from the windows, the uncluttered expanse of the pink and blue and gold Aubusson carpet. Now it was a gracious room, a room of a great lady of taste and delicacy.

  He turned and looked at her again silently. She hadn't moved. Her eyes were closed and she lay very still and pale and quiet. Her dark hair fanned out behind her head like a black cloud. White lines sprang out at the sides of his mouth, and a look of deep suffering ran over his face when he saw what he had done to the front of her dress.

  'I'm sorry, Kathryn,' he said humbly. 'I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again.' A deep shudder ran through him as he stood up and pulled the edge of the bedspread over her in a protective movement. He watched her for a long time, seeing the way her throat kept forming little spasms as if she wanted to say something.

  He hesitated, waiting, then a long sigh left his throat as he turned and picked up his ruined shirt and bent his head and silently left her, closing the door behind him.

  Kathryn heard him go, but she couldn't move. It was a long time before she opened her eyes. By then the sky was turning faintly purple with the dawn.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sensation that all her safe and tidy world was suddenly falling to pieces all around her struck at Kathryn as she slowly showered and dressed that morning. All her actions were numbed and automatic, but her thoughts were churning. Nothing happened last night, she told herself. But it was a flagrant lie and she knew it. Logan had come close to raping her—yet he hadn't. He had stopped just in time. That was the thing to remember. No damage had been done. That wasn't strictly true and she knew she was just willing away the truth, refusing to accept it. A great deal of damage had been done. Before, there had been only the small barrier of her pride between them. Now, there was an insurmountable gulf of unforgivable hurt added to a misplaced jealousy and distrust. This had to be the end for them, yet where could she go? What could she do? How could she leave Jon?

  She remembered the harsh feel of Logan's mouth draining hers, the heavy weight of his body, the rough yet gentle seeking hands, and a hot wave of shame ran over her. She remembered that brief moment when she had responded to him. If only she hadn't mentioned Paul! He was a miserable person who wasn't half the man his brother was. She pictured his smirking smiles and her mouth twisted. She had to get him to leave here. Maybe then she could salvage something of her life with Logan. Maybe then they could talk about what happened—almost happened—and forgive each other and go on from there. But first she had to get rid of Paul. He was at the root of all their problems, she was sure of it.

  She didn't know what she was going to say to Logan when she saw him again, how she was going to face him. But then she found she didn't have to just yet. Jon came to her room with the news that his father had gone to the office this morning.

  'Emma said there was some trouble at a sawmill and he might not be back till late and Uncle Paul said he'd teach me how to ride my bike but I had to ask you first.' He said it all in a rush and grinned up at her.

  A breathless quiver ran over her and a sure sense of calamity curled down her spine. Paul wasn't wasting any time. She had to warn Jon to be wary, but she wanted to do it in such a way that wouldn't make him fearful. 'Jon—' She hesitated, searching for the right words. 'You're not—afraid—of your uncle any more, are you?'

  'Oh no, Mom,' he said at once, smiling with a shining innocence. 'Uncle Paul and I just had a talk about that. Daddy's my father and he's my uncle.'

  Kathryn's answering smile was troubled as she searched his wide eyes. 'I'm glad, dear.' Her arms went right around him, holding him close. 'But if he ever says—anything that might—trouble you, be sure to come to either your dad or me, all right?'

  'Sure, Mom. Can I ride my bike now?'

  She nodded and watched him race away, but she was full of misgivings. She could understand why Logan hadn't stayed home today, but the swift way Paul had taken advantage of his absence made her uneasy.

  Paul was just coming in the front door when she reached the hall and he held the door open for a minute, gesturing to her to come and look. 'Jon takes to that bicycle just the way I did when I was his age,' he said smugly. 'Logan wasn't half so daring then.'

  Jon's face was flushed with triumph as he perched himself on the seat. His feet barely reached the pedals, but he didn't let that slow him down. He sped across the drive, leaning precariously to one side, balancing on the training wheels.

  Paul smiled, then turned to openly study Kathryn's face. His flashing blue eyes fastened on a faint bruise on her neck. 'Did you manage to get any rest after your little tussle with Logan last night?' he asked callously.

  Her lips parted as she sucked in a harsh breath. 'I—don't know what you mean.' She shuddered, her mind whirling.

  'It's no secret, sister-in-law. Logan told me all about it. He's so full of remorse this morning. But that doesn't help now the deed's been done, does it? Ever the uncouth caveman, that's my brother. I must say, though, you don't look any the worse for wear.'

  Hot colour flooded her face as she looked at him, totally at a loss. How could Logan tell anybody, least of all Paul? He stood there smirking at her and she wanted to scream, to reach out and claw at that handsome face so like Logan's, but she forced herself to hang on to her self-control and even managed to produce a tight smile to mask her humiliation. 'As you say, I'm no worse for the wear.' She forced the words through the hurt harshly gripping her throat.

  'But, old girl,' Paul was all brotherly concern, 'you really shouldn't have fought him like that. It only forced him to run that much faster to Margaret. That's where he's gone, you know. I don't believe for one minute there's trouble at a sawmill. No, he's gone to Margaret. Now there's a woman who knows how to treat a man…'

  Kathryn turned away, sickened. She didn't want to hear about Margaret.

  But Paul followed her to the breakfast room where Jay Ravinsky, his agent, and Gerald Sawyer, his manager, were still reading the morning papers, their coffee cups empty on the table in front of them, and kept up his spiteful remarks. He knew what he was doing, and he also knew she had no weapons with which to fight back.

  'Jay, I've been telling Kathryn here that she really shouldn't let Logan upset her. He's a brute, but he means well. What do you think?'

  Kathryn stared at him aghast. Was what happened last night common knowledge?

  Trying to be diplomatic, Jay Ravinsky shifted in his chair and folded his paper, then stood up as if preparing to leave. 'He was going on about some trouble at one of his sawmills this morning. I expect it can be a worrying thing. Then too,' he looked pointedly at Paul, 'we've been here quite a bit longer than usual. Your brother probably feels, like I do, that it's time you began making plans for another tour. They've been begging us to come to Sydney for ages. How about it? You've had a prolonged rest. Australia should be pleasant at this time of year.'

  Paul rubbed his hands together and pretended to consider the suggestion. 'Well, Gerald?' He lifted his shoulders gracefully and looked at the other man sitting at the table. 'Think you can arrange something, say, by the end of the week?'

  The little man jumped to his feet and nearly ran from the room. 'It's as good as done,' he said abruptly.

  Paul flicked an eyebrow to Kathryn and his mouth twisted. His voice held the barest trace of amusement. 'Poor Gerald, he never did like country living—too tame for him. That should make you feel better, old girl. By the weekend we'll be out of your hair.'

  She should have felt relieved, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that this was simply the beginning of the end of a carefully thought out plan to hurt—who? Logan? Jon? Herself? She didn't say anything but merely made an attempt at a small strained smile.

  The day passed quietly enough, and Kathryn began to unwind as Jon abandoned his bicycle and played ball with Paul
and Drago on the lawn behind the house. It was out of character for Paul, but she pushed away the disquieting thought and watched them. Maybe he was simply at a loose end too. It was that kind of day, warm and unusually sultry for late June. She sat barefoot in a lounger in a blue polka-dot blouse and white shorts, drifting in and out of the drugging mists of sleep. The breeze was gently cool, ruffling through her hair, and she could hear the mesmerising hum of bees somewhere near and smell the resinous scent of pine. She had been watching Paul with Jon, but another picture kept superimposing itself on her mind. Logan was there, looking achingly handsome in jeans and a bright white T-shirt. Jon was dressed the same way. Then there were several other children in playclothes with them, another little boy and two little girls with pink ribbons threaded through their long dark hair.

  They all were laughing and they kept calling Logan 'Daddy,' and once, when he lunged for the ball, it eluded him and he lost his balance and sprawled flat on his back in the grass. Immediately they flung themselves on top of him and began tickling him, their giggles high and shrieking and piercing.

  Jon kept beckoning Kathryn to come and join them, but her legs were weighted down so she couldn't move. When she reached down to find what was holding her, she saw a man's hands tight around her ankles. Paul's hands. And then his face was there, mocking, grinning, telling her he couldn't let her go to Logan. 'He doesn't want you,' he kept saying. 'He wants Margaret.' And sure enough, when she looked back to where Logan was sitting on the grass with his children around him, she saw Margaret float out to him, her gold cap of blonde hair like a halo around her head. She kissed him gently, many times, and left a trail of bright red lipstick all over his face…

  'Kathryn!'

  She woke with a start and looked straight into a pair of incredibly blue eyes, so warm and welcoming it made her heart pound. 'Logan—'