Red Midnight

by Heather Graham

  An hour later Ted sat with Jarod in the den discussing the pros and cons of socioeconomic differences between the U.S.S.R. and the United States while Erin enthusiastically helped Mary hang things in the den.

  “I can’t believe you’re really here!” Erin exclaimed happily, adjusting the collar on one of Ted’s jackets. “Honestly, sometimes I’m so homesick I can barely stand it!”

  Mary chuckled. “Casey wanted to come too; luckily, she couldn’t get the time out of work. I’m afraid she might have been quite a shock to the entire Russian system. She’s going crazy because you haven’t written; she’s dying to hear ‘the most intimate little details about the wickedly wonderful man you’ve married’!”

  Erin blushed slightly. “You’re right—I think Casey might have been a bit of a shock!”

  Mary suddenly sobered. “He is magnificent, Erin—he’s made Ted and me feel right at home, and I know we’re intruding. But I still can’t believe this, Erin. I mean you were refusing even to date, and you take off on a trip and—presto!—you’re married in Russia to a man you bumped into in a New York bar!”

  Erin averted her eyes and laughed uneasily. “Things did happen quickly.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Of course!” It wasn’t such a terrible lie. There were times when she was happier than she had ever been in her life.

  Mary seemed to accept her answer. She sighed softly. “Then I’m glad, Erin. Very happy for you.” She grimaced ruefully. “I really didn’t need to rush over here. I can see that you’re insanely in love and you’ve found yourself one heck of a man”—Mary paused with a dreamy quality to her eyes—“virile, rugged, incredibly sexy, the stuff heroes are made of.” She broke off suddenly and glanced at Erin. “Good, Lord, I need help! I’m starting to sound like Casey!”

  Erin laughed and picked up the shirt Mary had crumpled in her enthusiasm. “Heaven help us. I love Casey, but one of her is definitely enough! Besides, you have a virile, sexy man of your own down there.”

  “Ted?” Mary said thoughtfully. “Ted is a gem among men! He tolerates me! But Jarod … oh, Erin! It gives me delicious shivers just to see how he looks at you with those astounding blues! He reeks of tension and danger and sensuality and—oh, hell, there I go again! But he must adore you! He seldom takes his eyes off you, and there is fierce possession in those eyes, honey!”

  Erin lowered her lashes. Her fingers were trembling, so she hurriedly reached into Mary’s suitcase to pick out more clothing to neatly stow away. She picked up the shirt again, absently running her fingers along the collar. “You think so, Mary?” she managed to murmur idly. Was Jarod fiercely possessive? Yes, that was probably true. But she was quite sure Jarod didn’t adore her. Still, a warmth spread through her with a tingling of what she refused to describe as hope. He seldom takes his eyes off you.

  “Erin, honey, you’ve fixed that collar so many times it’s going to turn to cement!” Mary laughed, “I can’t wait to see you with children. You’re going to make a fabulous, finicky mother!”

  Erin dropped the shirt and the hanger and then hastily bent to pick up both. She tried to recover her composure before she rose and shrugged to Mary. “I’m sorry—I don’t believe I’ve wrinkled it.”

  “Don’t be sorry—it doesn’t matter in the least. You’re doing all the work and I’m sitting here sounding like Casey! Besides, I’ve never seen you drop a thing or appear the least bit uncoordinated! I love it!”

  Erin grimaced. “If you want to hear about my coordination, talk to Jarod. He’s convinced I’m the world’s greatest klutz. Come on—let’s leave the rest of this till later. Jarod says he has the afternoon free, so we’ll start your sightseeing at the Kremlin with him.”

  “I always thought it was marble,” Erin said as their group stood before the Kremlin wall and Lenin’s tomb. “But actually”—she glanced at Jarod with her eyes twinkling—“it is faced with black and gray labradorite and red Ukrainian granite.”

  Jarod grinned and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Very good, my love. I’ll let you proceed. We’ll just have time to do one museum today—so you pick.”

  Erin picked the Armory, or Oruzheinaya Palata, sure that Mary and Ted would enjoy the vast exhibits of jewels and gowns and carriages from the days of the czars. Ted, however, had a few too many questions for her to handle and Jarod once more took charge. When Mary marveled at the intricate depths of his knowledge, Jarod shrugged and explained that his mother had been born in Leningrad.

  Erin eyed him thoughtfully and curiously after his casual announcement, but she wasn’t able to quiz him on it until Mary and Ted were safely shut behind the door of the den and she lay upon the bed in their room, watching as Jarod shed his clothing.

  “Jarod?” she asked tentatively.

  “Hmm?” he replied absently, sitting at the foot of the bed to pull off his boots.

  “Why didn’t you simply tell me from the beginning that your mother was Russian? When I asked about the ring?”

  He stood without answering and turned out the light, hiding his features from her as he answered, leaving her in the dark as to the emotion with which his answer was stated. “From the things you had to say, Mrs. Steele, it didn’t strike me that you were particularly fond of the Russian people.”

  She felt the heat of his skin as he slipped in beside her, circling an arm around her midriff and pulling her close. She wanted to keep questioning him, but there had been an air of finality to his reply. She nervously sought for something else to say.

  “I want to thank you,” she murmured, moistening her lips and attempting to control the writhing that shuddered through her as he drew gentle patterns along her back with his fingertips. “You’ve been wonderful to Ted and Mary. They’re so impressed with everything.”

  “Go ahead, then.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You wanted to thank me. Go right ahead.”

  She was glad it was dark. The timbre in the devilish amusement of his tone still brought a flush to her face.

  “We aren’t alone in the apartment,” she murmured.

  His voice dropped to a husky whisper! “Then thank me very, very quietly.”

  Erin hesitated only a moment. Then she raised herself over his chest and bent low, touching the line of his lips with the tip of her tongue and circling it slowly. His arms shot around her and she was pressed close until she taunted him further by sliding her body against his to taste more and more of his salty bronze flesh.

  He was careful to groan very softly. Erin didn’t make out so well. When he began to make love to her, everything was erased from her mind except for the feel of him.

  Erin felt very cold and tired and stiff when she left the doctor’s office for the second time. She could no longer deceive herself. It hadn’t taken a vast knowledge of the Russian language to realize that the doctor was very positive and very efficient—and not the type to make mistakes.

  She had come alone today, having begged Tanya to keep her secret and escort Mary and Ted to the circus with the excuse that she needed to do some shopping at GUM and had just been to the circus.

  Erin stood upon the outer steps of the office for a long time. She had been abiding by her decision to handle things step by step, but the time had come to take the step she had been dreading. She had to tell Jarod, and now was the time to do it.

  They had talked little since Mary and Ted had arrived, but neither had they argued. They had been alone only at night, and by mutual agreement there was no pretense. To Erin it was a wonderful time of release—and strangely tempestuous peace. In the abandon of their love making she could give to Jarod all the tender love and care she normally had to carefully hide from him.

  He remained unerringly gentle to her around Mary and Ted, and for that Erin was grateful. But she didn’t try to deceive herself. She was dryly aware that her nights of sweet loving were not the same to Jarod. To him, their sexual relationship was merely a normal, healthy and pleasantly sh
ockingly passionate one.

  She did believe that he cared for her, and she cherished the knowledge that he truly found her the most provocative and sensual woman he had ever known. Yet she would have given all that to have a fraction of the love he had apparently granted his Cara.

  Erin sighed and stepped to the curb to resolutely hail a cab. Things were going well—as well as they were going to go between the two of them. Now was the time to talk. Mary and Ted would still be at the apartment tonight, so they would be forced to be pleasant to each other. And she wanted to talk to Jarod before she had to think any more about what to do.

  She had no difficulty instructing the driver to take her to the embassy, and no difficulty locating Jarod. A pleasant secretary buzzed a number and she was immediately led down a long corridor to a handsome office with carved oak furnishings and a typically Russian chandelier. Jarod rose from his desk with a curious frown and greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek before closing the door on the secretary and seating her in the chair, throwing a leg over the desk and sitting there himself as his brows lifted in query.

  “This is Mary and Ted’s last day,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would have thought you would have been with them.”

  Erin shrugged. It had been stupid to come here. In this political world he was more unapproachable than ever; his eyes held their relentless, unwavering quality.

  “Your office is very nice,” she murmured.

  “Thank you. Now, why are you here?”

  Erin folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. I have to say this entirely emotionlessly. I have to be on guard and watch for his reactions. Be dignified, Erin.

  But when she first tried to talk, the simple two words she needed wouldn’t come. She noted a silver samovar on a wall case and heard herself say, “Could I have some tea, Jarod?”

  His frown deepened but he rose, poured her a glass of the Russian tea, and handed it to her in a typical filigreed holder. Erin took a sip of the hot tea and without looking up from the rim of the glass blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Pregnant,” she repeated weakly.

  She finally looked up, amazed by the depth of anger in his eyes.

  “How?” he demanded harshly.

  She was tempted to laugh hysterically. Surely he knew how! Then she became terrified that he would ask her if she was sure the child was his. If he said something like that, she would shriek and literally fall apart, limb by limb, in front of him.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said aloud.

  “You were taking pills.”

  “I—not soon enough.”

  He was silent for a moment and then exploded. “Good God, Erin! You’re twenty-eight years old. How could you have been so careless?”

  Erin stared at him for a minute, blank and incredulous. What reaction had she expected from him? She didn’t know, but certainly not this … this cold fury. Suddenly a burning rage ripped through her and she was standing, lashing out at him in return with a deadly hiss.

  “How dare you accuse me of sexual irresponsibility! I had no reason to take precautions when I crossed this border. I was leading a celibate life, which I don’t suppose can be said of you! And then I”—she was still furious, but suddenly floundering—“I … I tried … something, but apparently it was either too late or not good enough.” That she was floundering suddenly increased her wrath to where she was shouting out anything that came to mind. “I had no intention of forming any liaisons until you assaulted me.”

  “Halt right there!” he snapped out, eyes blazing a warning despite the fact that he hadn’t moved from his tensed position.

  “Assaulted, seduced—what difference does it make?” Erin continued, too wound up to stop. “I—”

  “What difference does it make?” Jarod thundered in interruption. “A world of difference—as you of all people should know!”

  Erin swallowed sickly, knowing she was sounding like a foolish child. She couldn’t stop her tirade, but she had to control her words. He was right; there was a world of difference. She had come so close to the first that it had taken his gentle use of the second to teach that extraordinary difference.

  “You knew you were dealing with a woman who had not been involved in sexual relations! You were more responsible than I! You should have cared to take the precautions! This is absurd! I’ve never believed it was supposed to be the woman’s responsibility rather than the man’s.”

  “It is the woman’s responsibility,” Jarod interrupted dryly, “because it is the woman who becomes pregnant—not the man.”

  “Oh, Jarod!” Her voice suddenly went low with disbelief. “That is the lowest excuse—”

  “All right—I’m sorry,” he interrupted harshly.

  Erin bit her lip and lowered her lashes. There were men who might really think that way, she thought bitterly. But not Jarod. She knew him better than that. Jarod would always be responsible.

  His voice, still harsh, seemed to lash out at her. “But tell me this, Erin—why didn’t you say anything to me? Perhaps I was wrong, but you never said anything to me, and I assumed you knew what you were doing.”

  “I …” She moistened suddenly dry lips, desperately wondering herself why she had been so afraid to speak to him. He could have gotten her to a doctor, she could have been on pills all along. But it might have been too late anyway.

  “I thought I did know what I was doing.”

  “You wouldn’t talk to me—but I’m to blame?”

  Hurt, confused, and miserably aware that she had made a mistake—how did you explain sleeping with a man night after night and yet being afraid to bring up an intimate subject because he was still a stranger?—Erin fell silent. Jarod hopped from his desk and walked around to the chair on the other side. He picked up a pencil and idly tapped it on the desk as he watched her through shielded, narrowed eyes.

  “So what do you propose to do?”

  “What do I propose to do?” she repeated with a wash of new anger cascading over her and her voice grating tensely. Looking at the granite of the man’s face and body suddenly convinced her she had made a tremendous mistake. If she had ever tried to deceive herself into believing she had married a man composed of anything but ice and brick she had been a fool.

  “Yes,” he said, brows lifting sardonically. “I mean—we’re speaking about the great Erin McCabe here. Symbol of beauty and sensuality for the western world. I find it difficult to believe you would give up that kind of excitement for the monotony of motherhood.” He reached calmly into his jacket for his cigarettes and lit one, still watching her through half-slit eyes.

  Erin did her best to conceal her hurt and shock, an effort aided by the heat of fury that trembled through her in continuous waves. He wanted her to get an abortion, she realized sickly, admitting to herself for the first time that she wanted the child she carried within her and that with all the loss she had sustained in her life, she would never, never give up the life of this child.

  She smiled at him coldly and bitterly and walked around the desk to face him. “Forgive me, Jarod, I’m really sorry for bothering you. I was mistaken—I thought that maturely and responsibly, I should give you the right to know. I won’t trouble you again.”

  She was very agitated, and her hands were trembling. Her eyes lit upon the cigarette pack on his desk and she automatically stretched her fingers toward it.

  His hand came down upon hers and he pulled the pack away, his eyes open wide and starkly demanding as they knifed into hers.

  “You didn’t answer me.” He stood, catching both her wrists. “What do you propose to do?”

  She didn’t want him towering over her, holding her with his grip of steel, raping her soul with his eyes! She was terribly, terribly afraid that she was going to cry and make a complete fool of herself.

  “Erin!”

  She wasn’t fond of the use of feminine wiles, but at the moment she was going to
try and use a few. It was easy, because a sob was rising in her throat, and because she still knew that Jarod would never willingly inflict harm upon her … upon any woman … but that didn’t matter now, she couldn’t let it hurt because she simply had to get away from him.

  She let her head fallback and feigned panic filled her eyes. “Jarod!” she gasped, and the pain in her heart brought agony to her cry. “Please … please … my wrists …”

  As she had hoped, he immediately dropped them, concern flooding to his eyes. He moved to hold her, reassure her, but she had the advantage of knowing exactly what she had planned to do.

  Before he could touch her she had sped around the desk, jerking the chair after her so that his immediate rush to recapture his hold was thwarted by a collision with the piece of furniture. “Erin!” he lashed out. “You lying little bi—”

  She didn’t hear the end. If she didn’t take every advantage, he would be upon her—she was well aware of his strength and speed. She pulled the door behind her and took off through the halls, heedless of the startled looks of the office staff.

  Some god was smiling upon her. She was able to hail a cab in front of the embassy—and see only for a second his furious face as he appeared not ten feet in her wake.

  “Kremlin,” she told the driver, blanking on anything else to say that he might understand.

  Ten minutes later she was staring at the Kremlin wall and the spot where the revolutionary leaders had been buried into the brick.

  He didn’t want the child and he didn’t want her. No, it was worse than that. He didn’t even want her having the child. He had actually been furious.

  She didn’t know how long she stood staring at the walls, those agonizing thoughts spilling in grinding repetition through her mind. Every once in a while she would think that it had been stupid to run, that she would have to go home. And that now he would be ready to kill her and that he would think anything fair game after the trickery she had used to elude him.