Erin compressed her lips and said nothing.
“Erin?” he persisted relentlessly. “Have I got another ‘general gist of it’?”
“Yes!”
“Hmmm, very interesting.” Suddenly he tensed, leaning over the desk, and the glacial twist of his eyes became sizzling. “When did you find out about your friends arriving?”
Erin frowned, confused by his startling, terse pounce. “Just this morning. Why?”
He reached into the top drawer of his desk and tossed a packet toward her. Erin colored as she saw it was the container of pills she had just acquired from the Soviet doctor.
“You went through my purse,” she hissed tensely.
He shrugged eloquently. “We Russians are known to do things like that,” he drawled. “Actually, it didn’t take much going through—they were sitting right on top, and your bag was open.”
Erin didn’t say anything. Her eyes seemed glued to the plastic packet.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“These were prescribed two days ago. Before you had any intention of inviting me back into my own bedroom. Certainly not for my benefit, Mrs. Steele. So for whose?”
Oh, God, Erin thought sickly, what a stupid waste. She was going to pay the price for pills the doctor had said were useless anyway.
“Dammit, Erin, I want to know why. I think I stated very clearly that you’d best consider yourself a loyal wife—unwilling or not.” His voice lowered suddenly and she felt the heat behind it—and every instinct within her warned that she’d better come up with an answer quickly.
“Erin!”
“I am ‘loyal,’” she said acidly, “and I’m quite sure you must realize I couldn’t be anything else but. You’ve informed me you have people watching me.” She didn’t like the way his eyes narrowed, and so she continued. “I had asked Tanya to get me an appointment right after we were married, when … when … The other day was the first appointment she was able to get, and I couldn’t tell her then that I didn’t really need to go …”
He watched her for a few minutes more, then picked up a pencil and glanced back down to the papers on his desk. A moment later he glanced back up and lifted his brows as if he were slightly surprised to see her still sitting there.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Steele,” he assured her mockingly. “We’ll do our best to convince your friends that you’re married to a pure gallant and that your life is a bed of roses.”
Erin stood and left him.
Sonia had just been in to clean, so the apartment was spotless. But desperately needing something to do to keep her mind occupied, Erin began cleaning again. She made a list of extras to pick up, since they were to have guests, and made little notes to herself about supplying the extra upstairs bath with towels and soap. The one bright spot on the horizon was that Mary would be there, and if she forced herself not to think of other things, she could find pleasure in thinking of how she could play the tour guide for a change.
Jarod appeared while she sat at the dining room table making up a list of things she wanted to do with her friends.
She glanced up at him warily, but his smile was disarming. He had changed into a beige pullover sweater and stretched broad shoulders as he looked at her, working stiffness from his neck and back.
“Are you busy?” he inquired.
“Umm … not really,” Erin replied, still wary.
“Good. I need to get out. How about a late picnic?”
“Picnic?”
“Umm. We’ll go out to Lenin Hills. I don’t believe you’ve been there yet, and the view is breathtaking. Moscow Lomonosov University is there, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing it. And there are acres and acres of gardens and recreational facilities. A lake surrounded by busts of Russian scientists. Of course, it is kind of cool, there’s snow on the ground, but the sun is out and we can find a bench and then sightsee.”
This is crazy, Erin thought. We’re snapping at one another one minute, and he’s inviting me on a picnic in the snow the next. But crazy or not, she couldn’t control the rippling thrill of anticipation that riddled through her with the thought of being with him in his curiously light mood.
“Well?”
Erin nodded slowly. “I’d enjoy going out,” she said, lowering her lashes, so he wouldn’t see just how much she would enjoy it.
“Good. I’ll run out and pick up a bottle of wine. See if you can throw some sandwiches together.”
Thirty minutes later they were following the Vorobyovskoye Highway and the hills were in sight. Jarod had taken on the role of guide, and he spoke casually and informatively as they drove. Since it was growing late, they found benches near the lake and ate, then Jarod amused her with tales about the various scientists whose sculpted heads they assessed. She was sure he invented half the stories, and was surprised to discover that he had her laughing like a young girl out on a first date.
His arm was around her shoulder as he took her to the main building of the university. One of thirty-seven structures, he told her, it was the largest. Its beautiful spire rose twelve hundred and fifty feet. She believed him when he told her the main campus building was one of the world’s most beautiful; its chandeliers and white marble columns certainly impressed her.
It was dark when they left the university. Erin leaned back against the headrest of the car, half closing her eyes while she covertly watched Jarod drive. He was marvelous when he chose to be; his, knowledge as a guide seemed to be limitless. But then, he was a Russian. No, not a Russian. An American with a Russian heritage; a man, like any other, aware of his past, knowledgeable about the customs, language, and history that had been a part of his family.
My child would be part Russian, she thought, somewhat incredulously, and then hastily reminded herself that it had all been a mistake, there was no child. But if she ever were to have one, she would like it to be a boy, and she would like to see him grow to be a man like Jarod, with a firm, responsible jaw, and rugged facial contours that were not beautiful, but etched with unyielding strength and character.
Erin closed her eyes completely. I am really in love with him, she thought sadly. I’m in love with a brick wall. And he is capable of a certain giving, but not of loving. In less than two months’ time I will be leaving him and he will very politely say good-bye and forget that I existed as a convenience or inconvenience.
She wondered just for a moment what his reaction would be if she were to knock on his den door and announce that despite the fact that he had become her jailer and that she was aware he still harbored suspicions that she might be a spy, she was in love with him. He would probably be annoyed, maybe even politely annoyed. “Oh, Lord, Erin, don’t be ridiculous. I had assumed you were more sophisticated than that.”
“Are you awake?”
Her eyes flew open. Thank God she had been only dreaming, because it had been a rather humiliating dream.
“Yes, I’m awake,” she said quickly. A brief glance showed her that they were home. At least he was home. No matter how comfortable it was becoming, it wasn’t her home.
She jumped out of the car before he could come around. He shrugged as she emerged without his aid and walked on toward the apartment door. He twisted the key, pushed the door inward, and motioned Erin ahead of him.
“Thank you for the afternoon,” she murmured with stiff nervousness, very aware of his presence behind her. “I did enjoy the university very—”
The ringing of the phone cut her off, and she turned to glance at Jarod. He shrugged and strode toward the kitchen extension. After he answered, he seemed to be doing most of the listening, but when he spoke, it was in Russian. All Erin could make out were a few das and nyets.
“Trouble?” she inquired as he rang off.
He nodded vaguely but his eyes were already opaque; his mind elsewhere. He slipped his arms back into the coat he had just begun to shed. “Nothing big,” he said. “I won’t be late.”
The phone began ringing again
before he could leave. He went back into the kitchen to answer it once more and Erin idly followed—just in time to see his gaze become piercing upon her, his features darkly tense.
“Yes, she’s here. Just a moment.”
He passed the receiver to her.
“Who is it?” Erin inquired with a curious frown.
“Your friend.” His velvety deep voice held the rough edge of a growl. “Mr. Sayer.”
For a moment, Erin was sure that Jarod would hover by the phone to hear her conversation, but he didn’t. He thrust the phone into her hand and walked away. She heard the slamming of the front door before she could say hello. She winced at the sound. It had hurt; it had been a cruel twist within her stomach.
“Hello, Gil.”
“Hiya, gorgeous. I just wanted to let you know that I tried your friends a few more times just in case they had made the phone tape early. But they are gone. And I checked their flight. They come in at nine thirty-five on the fifteenth. If you need a ride to the airport to meet them, just let me know.”
“That’s very nice of you, Gil,” Erin murmured. “I’ll talk to Jarod and let you know.”
“Fine. Give me a call one way or the other. I like to hear that sultry voice.”
Erin forced a chuckle. “Sure, Gil. Thanks again.”
She hung up the phone feeling slightly unnerved. The day had been so pleasant, and it had all been ruined with the phone call. She sighed. There was no help for it. Gil was just trying to be nice.
Erin shed her coat and trudged her way up the staircase. It had been cold out once it had turned dark; she could still feel the chill. A warm bath might in some way help.
With time on her hands, she soaked a long while, then washed her hair and studiously dried it. It was near nine when she finished, and she thought she would hurry down for a cup of tea. In the mood in which Jarod had left, she didn’t want to take a chance on being up when he returned.
With the tea running warm in her veins, she hurried back upstairs and doffed her robe to slide between the sheets in a long satin gown. But of course she couldn’t sleep. It was barely nine thirty. Even when she had five A.M. calls, she didn’t go to bed this early.
But she wanted so desperately to sleep. It had been an ungodly confusing day. The trauma of the morning she still refused to accept, and then the pleasantness of the afternoon had been shattered by Gil’s simple phone call. She wanted to forget for a while, forget that she was forcing herself not to think while also telling herself that soon she would have to face facts.
She had fallen asleep, because the sound of the door swinging open and banging against the wall was sharp and startling, tensing her with fear. From a comfortable field of soft and easing mist she came to instant alertness.
For a moment she could see him silhouetted in the doorway, tall, his shoulders broad, filling the space as he stood braced in the rectangle of dim yellow. Then his arm moved, and the bedroom light flared. Erin blinked furiously at the cruel intrusion upon her eyes while fumbling to sit up in the bed. He stared at her a moment while she watched him, his features fathomless, his eyes both searingly intent and shielded by that infinite blue frost flame.
Erin frowned as he left the doorway and sauntered into the room, casually pulling his sweater over his head. Every nerve within her seemed to jump with both fear and anticipation. A clamp seemed to have formed over her throat as she struggled to speak.
“What are you doing?” she demanded a little breathlessly.
He arched a brow high and then dropped it; he loosened first the buttons on his cuffs and then started on his shirt. “Undressing,” he stated dryly, sitting at the foot of the bed to doff his boots and socks. A mercurial chill of lightning and fever raced along Erin’s spine in dancing rivulets as she held the eyes that refused to release her. He lifted his brow once more. “You did invite me back in here.”
She kept staring at him blankly, her dismay growing. All he had to do was step into a room and her blood ran hot and cold. She was inhaling his special scent, clean and yet masculine; she should be used to it, and she was, but at this moment it was sending her senses reeling.
“Yes,” she murmured, “but—”
Her voice trailed away with his sardonic smile. “But?” he inquired. “Ah, yes, I’m two nights early. There is no one here tonight to witness a show. Sorry, Erin, but it doesn’t work that way.” He reached out to run the rough texture of his knuckles lightly over her chin. “I’ll do my best to compromise, Mrs. Steele, but not at your beck and call.”
Again, she was finding it difficult to speak, difficult to breathe with his searching eyes so close.
“You’ve been drinking,” she accused him suddenly.
He seemed surprised. “No, not really. I had two scotches with Sergei and Joe, but not enough to influence my actions. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it was your idea to share a room again.” At her silence he laughed and continued. “Oh, Erin, you must have overestimated my finer qualities. Were you assuming I would come in here with you and curl on the floor at your feet like a perfect gentleman? Un-unh, honey. Nor will I continue to have my own door shut against me so that you can carry on a mental love affair with the illustrious Mr. Sayer. This is my room, and you’re my wife, and if there are any affairs going on here, be they platonic or physical, I intend to be the partner.”
Erin was too stunned to protest. Gil? It was incredulous. He was good-looking, yes, but he was like a flat sepia-tone picture compared to the contrasting brilliant and three-dimensional hues that were Jarod.
Suddenly his arms swept around her, bringing her down to the cushion of the pillow as he hovered over her, balanced by his hold on the small of her back and a knee pressed against the mattress. He continued to search her face with grim features from this closer range, as if he sought the answer to a deep and mysterious enigma. “The strangest thing,” he murmured curiously, “is that I never understood why. I held you, I felt you tremble and quiver, I felt the pounding of your heart, I heard you whisper and moan and call my name….”
Abruptly he rolled beside her, continuing his strange vigil as he propped himself up on an elbow, leaving a hand free to touch upon her shoulder with the gossamer lightness of silk. “Why, Erin?”
She could only stare at it. Because I’m in love with you, idiot! she thought, but she couldn’t say so, nor did she think she could have spoken at all. She felt as if a spell had been cast upon her, and all she could do was listen to the drowning beguilement of his voice and fight the sensations sweeping over her in great lapping waves.
His fingers moved up her shoulder to stroke her throat and splay across and cradle the soft line of her jaw. Suddenly anger erupted through the mesmerizing spell; he was here because like a typical male he was feeling territorial. She was his property; in his mind, possession had been threatened.
Erin leaped from the bed and stared at him with her eyes blazing a shimmering silver. “Why? Why? Because I’m not a possession! Because you brought me home like a piece of furniture to be kept for your convenience. You read me the riot act, reminding me that I’m your wife while you set other standards for yourself!”
“What?”
He tensed with his explosion, changing position again so that it looked truly as if he possessed animal agility and could pounce within a second. He still wore his jeans, but his chest was bare, and its dark, coarsely haired breadth reminded her of the sinewed muscles lurking beneath the toned trimness, visibly rippling across the span of his shoulders.
Erin backed off a step but lifted her chin. She had begun something, and now she was committed. “You heard me. My movements are watched and censored. I’m supposed to dance to your tune, while you roam about at will. You leave when you want and return when you want. You spend half your time with this Catherine”—she hissed out the name—“and you have the nerve to resent my phone calls.”
“Catherine?”
“Yes, Catherine,” Erin spat out heedlessly. “You won’t be d
emanding fidelity from me while you’re out prowling—”
He pounced. Standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips, he began to laugh. “Catherine, huh? Well, may I remind you, you locked me out of this bedroom.”
He began a lazy saunter toward her, which was terribly unnerving. Erin began to inch slowly backwards.
“Catherine,” he repeated, shaking his head as if the name itself were incredibly amusing. “My love,” he murmured dryly, “if it is monogamy you desire, it is yours. You little fool. Do you really think I would go elsewhere if you were here … waiting …”
Erin came to a forced standstill. She had backed into the wall and there was nowhere else to go. But he continued to stalk her relentlessly, bracing his hands against the wall on either side of her head as he leaned close. If she had imagined him the slightest bit. inebriated she had been badly deceived. His eyes were sharp and alert and staggering with magnetism as they came ever closer.
His lips touched her forehead, and though they but brushed her flesh, they were like a brand that burned. They continued a butterfly trail over her face, circling her lips, but never touching them. He stood back again, cupping her chin and cheekbones between both hands as he pressed his body against her. Her body automatically adjusted to his, molding sensuously against him.
Then his touch, smooth but rough-edged, wedged a space between them. No longer light, but firm and questing, his hands began a downward exploration, pausing to curve over her breasts and massage them until the nipples responded, shielded by the satin of her gown but hard and taut against his fingers. He followed the line of her ribs, then began a slow and sensual circular caress over her hips and abdomen.
“You little fool,” he whispered to her, his voice a stimulating taunt against her ear. “Dear God, don’t you know what you do to me? No one feels like you, Erin. No woman has hips and thighs that can meet a man like yours. Move closer to me, honey,” he murmured urgently.
I’m going to fall, Erin thought. The gentle grind of his hips against hers was so hungrily suggestive that sensations swamped over her with devastating depth. She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, delighting in his tense heat. He smiled at her and untangled himself momentarily to slip his fingers beneath the satin on her shoulder blades and send the gown sailing sleekly to her feet. Then he crushed against her again, the hair on his chest mercilessly teasing her swollen and sensitive breasts. His mouth found hers and hungrily sought to part her lips; they capitulated completely, her tongue moving urgently to tease with a driving need along with his. And while they clung together with their lips his hands slid urgently over her body again, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of her lace panties, running along the circumference, taunting and taunting until he pulled his lips from hers to slide between the valley of her breasts and he knelt to slowly ease the last remaining lace from her body.
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