Golden Vows

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  His soft, humorless laugh stirred the dark hair at her nape and feathered her neck with longing. “It feels right to me. In fact, this is the first thing that’s felt right in a very long time.” His arms tightened as he leaned back to look into her eyes. “And what’s more, Amanda, it feels damned right to you too. Admit it.”

  Her eyelids closed, covering the truth of his words. But the evidence was there. Every part of her ached for him, and she knew there was no disguising the rapid unevenness of her breathing and the hard thrust of her breasts against him. She hungered for him like a poet in search of a rhyme, but with the knowledge that easing that hunger could only complicate matters between them. Moving her hands to rest on his upper arms, Amanda pushed against him. “No, Dane. It isn’t right. You can’t honestly expect me to just fall into bed with you.”

  “But I do expect it. You owe me this, Amanda. At the very least, you owe me this.” His voice brought her eyes up to meet his as he enfolded her more securely in his embrace. “For months now I’ve tiptoed my way around your feelings, tried to consider how you felt, what you wanted, but tonight ... tonight belongs to me.”

  Making a fleeting grab at resistance, she tried to ease out of his hold, but he held her fast without half-trying. Finally, with a low sigh, she stood still once again. “Why?”

  “Because I want you and, at the moment, nothing else matters, not even how you might feel about it.” He bent his head and captured her lips in a devastating challenge. Soft, sensuous, and evocative, the movement of his tongue against her own robbed her of the will to deny him—or herself.

  “But the nice thing is,” he murmured. “You feel the same way, Amanda. You can make any excuse you like; tell yourself it’s hard to break old habits or that the storm forced us to spend the night together, but in the morning I’ll know and you’ll know that neither of us had any other choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” she said in a voice that was neither strong nor confident.

  The tilt of his lips was leisurely, as was the light stroke of his fingers through her hair. Leisurely and mesmerizing. “Remember the first night we spent on the boat, Amanda? Our wedding night. You wore something black and deliciously wicked and I wore nothing at all. I held you for hours, wondering how someone as ordinary as me could be married to someone as extraordinary as you.”

  Amanda leaned against him and let her forehead rest on his chest. An illogical tear pushed at her lashes as she savored his confession, knowing that at the time it would have made her laugh, but now it tugged bittersweetly at her heart.

  Her wedding night, a memory separate and apart from so many other special nights with Dane. She had been shy and so incredibly happy that she’d felt almost guilty. And she’d lain in his arms, silently thankful that out of a world of choices he had somehow chosen her.

  Her fingers moved to the zipper pull of his jacket. Dane was right, she thought. Nothing mattered except the deep ache to hold him and touch him. But she was right too. There was a choice. The devil’s choice, perhaps, but still her decision to make.

  Her hand slipped inside the nylon Windbreaker and nestled along the bend of his waist. Tingly pinpoints of anticipation flowed through her nerve-endings and quickened the rhythm of her breathing. She wanted to make love to Dane, she wanted to exhaust herself in his embrace and she wanted to drown in the sensations so long denied.

  Curving her free hand around his neck and braiding her fingertips into his hair, Amanda lifted her head and met his eyes purposefully before she raised herself on tiptoe to reach his mouth. She kissed him lingeringly, moving against him with a control that surprised her. Heart pounding, desire pulsing madly through her veins, she separated their lips and then cradled his face in her palms for an endless moment before stepping out of his relaxed hold.

  “Amanda?” His voice was thick as she took another step back and then another.

  She stopped and arched one brow as she reached to unfasten the zipper closing of her jacket. The question in his eyes sharpened as he watched her shrug free of the lightweight coat, but the question vanished into dusky comprehension when she pulled the knit shirt she wore up and over her head. Her hair drifted into a provocative shadow about her shoulders as she bent to slip off first one shoe and then the other.

  Amanda felt his gaze on her bare shoulders and on the lacy fabric that covered her breasts. Whispery thrills of pleasure skimmed down her spine and she trembled with the effort of maintaining a pretense at composure.

  Dane. Dane. His name traced a path through her mind; a path that led straight to her heart as surely as her body would soon lead her into his arms. She unfastened her jeans, slipped them from her hips and pushed them to her ankles. Pulling one foot free, she kicked with her other foot and sent the denim skating across the floor.

  A husky sound measured the silence and Amanda straightened, wondering if it had escaped his throat or her own? Her thumbs hooked under the elastic of her panties and the silk slid smoothly down her thighs and lay in a forlorn scrap at her feet.

  His gaze followed, then made an unhurried retreat upward until it locked on the movement of her fingers at the front hook of her bra. Amanda held the flimsy covering together, feeling her breath hover uselessly in her lungs and then, in the same instant, she released both breath and bra. The straps wandered down her shoulders and arms until the garment fell to the floor.

  She stood, naked and vulnerable, allowing her courage to catch up to her actions. In the taut stillness of the cabin Amanda wanted to shiver with sudden nervousness, but Dane’s steady, almost skeptical regard held the impulse in check.

  She had made her choice. She would give Dane all and more than he’d asked for, and in the process she would satiate her senses and finally be free of him.

  Dane drank liberally of her beauty and dampened plaguing doubt with the stern admonition to leave him alone. He didn’t want to know why Amanda had suddenly yielded. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the determined craving of his body to possess hers.

  But even as he caressed her with his gaze, he knew that was a lie. He cared. Her pliant acceptance could mean everything—or nothing. He was trapped by the myriad possibilities that faced him and his helplessness to choose any, save one. Amanda. The beginning and ending of his dreams.

  Without a wasted motion he stripped the jacket from his shoulders and worked loose the buttons of his shirt. He watched her carefully as the material parted and he slipped it off. Her gaze settled on the tawny curls that clustered on his chest and he remembered how she had once told him that he had one hundred and thirty-one chest hairs because she had counted them while he slept. Just enough, she’d said, adding that one hundred and thirty-two would have been gaudy.

  Silly thing to think of now, he thought as he kicked off his shoes and fumbled with the snap on his jeans. But at least the distracting memory kept his hands from shaking visibly. There were memories everywhere on the boat, but he felt uncomfortable with them. Reminiscing should be kept for another place and time. This rendezvous with Amanda was different because, for the first time, there was no solid commitment, no promise of forever. He couldn’t count on having more than what she offered to him right now. And whatever happened, he intended to take all that she would give.

  After what seemed an unconscionably long while, he stepped out of his jeans and briefs. He felt awkward standing before her, as if he were unaccustomed to her intimate gaze. It had just been too long, too damned long. Deliberately, he approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing the length of her arm to wrap her small fingers in his palm.

  Hesitancy blended with eagerness in her piquant face and Dane noticed the soft quiver of her lower lip. It pleased him to recognize the signs of her own uncertainty. He wanted to whisper love words, but whether to reassure her or himself he didn’t know. And he sensed that Amanda would turn away from spoken promises. What happened between them now had to be silent and more irrevocable than evanescent words.

  He
walked backward to the berth, pulling her with him. Sitting on the edge, he drew her down to his lap and pressed his lips to the pulse at the base of her throat. His hands explored her, reacquainting himself with her shape. He found the tip of her breast hard and tantalizing to the rough circling of his tongue. Long-suppressed passions swelled and throbbed inside him and he increased the pressure of his massaging kiss.

  With light strokes his fingertips moved over her skin, remembering the responsive places, lingering just long enough to tease and tune them to his private orchestration. The crescendoing melody faltered, though, as he ran his sensitive palms across her stomach. If he hadn’t known her body so well, he might have missed the almost imperceptible changes in her. But he did know and he noticed the difference.

  She had always been slender, firmly curved, and perfectly formed. That hadn’t changed—the difference seemed more in the feel of her. It was as if pregnancy had smoothed angles and mellowed the taut muscles of youth into full maturity.

  Dane closed his eyes with the realization that brought a mixture of sadness and pride. He’d never had any intention of changing her and yet the simple fact of his love had done so. Did she regret the tiny marks that would always remind her that once she had carried the seed of his love? He laid his cheek against her breast as his hand moved over her stomach in tender tribute.

  Dear God, he thought, please don’t let her regret something so beautiful.

  Breathlessly, Amanda absorbed the scent and sight and feel of his nearness. Her fingers were buried in the tawny richness of his hair; her body was lost in the sweetness of his touch; her heart was a willing hostage to the magic that drugged the air with surrender.

  Here, in his arms, she found a serenity she’d thought never to experience again and she wanted to savor it to the fullest. Whether it was right or wrong she no longer cared. For a little while, time would cushion the truth, fuse the past into the present and let her love Dane for one splendid moment.

  He had claimed the night for his own, but it would belong to her too. Hours, moments, a lifetime—fugitive promises in a confusing tapestry. But she would have the memory of tonight—one silver thread to remember for always, no matter what.

  When she felt him grow still, Amanda called a halt to the weavings of her mind. A reluctant shiver of awareness seeped through her as she realized the questing exploration of his hands had a new purpose. The marks of pregnancy were faint on her skin, but they were there nonetheless. And he had noticed.

  Amanda closed her eyes tightly, wanting to hold on to the lovely feeling of belonging, but it slipped further and further away with each inquisitive brush of his fingers. Even now, when she’d almost managed to forget, he had reminded her, reminded her of the pain that lay between them like two parallel lines that stretched to infinity without ever once touching.

  His stroking stopped and a low groan of sadness rumbled from his throat as he bent his head to kiss her stomach. Did he see her as scarred? Less than what she had once been? She attempted to block the thought from reaching her fragile emotions. Like the darkness blankets the night, she gathered her feelings about her for shelter. What he thought didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except taking and giving until there was nothing left.

  Flames of need flicked at her reason and she placed her hands on his shoulders, pressing him down, down into the mattress. His eyes smoldered in surprise, but his arms went around her, drawing her with him.

  She lowered herself until the searing heat of her flesh blended into his. A smile that wasn’t quite a smile touched her lips and vanished, but Amanda felt its sting. Loving Dane had become a paradox, an emotion separate and apart from her. Even as she yielded herself to the beautiful sensations, she felt distanced from him and yet so close she could melt into his very being.

  She was fire and ice, a cold December rain and a tropical summer storm. As her lips covered his in a pleading kiss, she moved feverishly to assuage the spasms of urgency that shuddered through her. Their bodies joined, but that wasn’t enough for her. There would never be enough; she knew that with each tympanic beat of her heart. But still she made love to him desperately, as if she could rid herself of the yearning, as if somehow she could free herself of him.

  Slowly, she recognized the calming caress of his hands and just as slowly, she felt her body respond. He gentled her, quieted her frenzied movements and murmured her name until it became a rhythmic part of her breathing.

  For a long time he held her, his lips a constant reality in a world of dreamy sensation. Along her neck and into the soft hollows of her shoulders his kisses burned. He stroked her, letting his fingers graze her inner thigh and then letting them stray upward to brush against the swell of her breast. As the tantalizing teasing grew more serious, Amanda allowed herself to move again. Her body tightened with a ripple of excitement and the intimate delights of rediscovery.

  Dane was as solidly male as she remembered. His skin was rough and smooth to the touch, like richly napped velvet. He tasted of salt spray and the clean scent of outdoors clung to him with enticing promise. His body was a muscular pillow that accepted her weight without protest and contoured to fit her very feminine outline.

  The sailboat berth offered only moderate comfort, but Amanda knew she couldn’t have wished for more than Dane’s warm embrace. It was like sinking into a feather bed and feeling it puff and billow until it formed a downy cradle. He enclosed her in the same cushiony way.

  With consummate skill he created a pleasurable tension inside her. Her breasts were firm and heavy against the frictioning texture of his chest. She felt his passion build, knew the wondrous mystery of being a part with him in this ageless, but always new union. Rhythmically, she moved with him until her thoughts and yearnings meshed into his with perfect accord.

  She heard the pelting tempo of rain outside and exulted in the elemental storm within her that whipped at long-denied passions and forced her to feel and react. With a lingering sigh that escaped her throat as a whispery plea, Amanda gave herself up to the tempest that was, and always had been, surrender.

  As if he had been waiting for that sigh, Dane captured it and returned it to her lips. His breath filled her and his tongue curled around hers in an erotic symbol of their joining. With swift, steady tenderness he loved her until, at last, she lay drained but satisfied in his arms.

  Even after his breathing was sleepily deep and regular, Amanda stayed nestled in the curve of his side. Her mind wandered through memories of other nights when she had known such contentment. Could she dare to hope that the feeling would linger? Was there a chance that tonight marked the beginning of new dreams? Of a future together?

  She wouldn’t let her thoughts drift further into fantasy. At the moment everything was a muted blur; truth blended into wishes, and emotions merged with physical serenity. A good marriage depended on mutual understanding, and whether she and Dane could ever build that foundation again was an undecided question.

  She had given herself to him tonight because she had wanted to resolve the conflict of heart and mind. But she had only proved that there was no resolution. Even in the midst of loving him, of being caught in the wild winds of her own passion, there had been a corner of her heart that remained her own—a closed door that would not open. And heaven alone knew if there was a key.

  “Amanda?” From the silence his voice came, husky with unspoken promises. “Come home to me.”

  She couldn’t stop the trembling that stripped her contentment in a matter of seconds. Oh, Dane, she thought, why did you have to ask now?

  “Dane, I...” Her words trailed into emptiness. For him the answer was a clear-cut yes or no, but for her it was colored by varied shades of gray. She searched for the right way to say Maybe ... Someday ... but not now ... not yet. She searched and Dane waited for the answer she could not give.

  Slowly, she felt him shift on the narrow berth and then she shivered as he pulled his arms from around her. He reached up and snapped off the light, then la
y back beside her. With the darkness, Amanda realized the small but significant space he’d placed between them.

  They were two people who shared the same bed and the same empty longings. Two people who had just shared a special expression of love and who now were as separate as it was possible for two people to be.

  Tears welled in her eyes and evaporated with her guilty frustration. This was all her fault, from beginning to end.

  And yet, even knowing that, she felt powerless to bridge the chasm that existed between her heart and Dane’s.

  Powerless to prevent the good-bye that she was sure would come with the morning—a morning that was still hours away and yet would dawn all too soon.

  Chapter Nine

  The call from her attorney came two days after Dane had left her with a good-bye as frosty as the Chesapeake morning.

  “Mrs. Maxwell, good news!” The gruff voice was professionally pleasant and to the point. “The final hearing for your divorce has been set.”

  “Oh,” Amanda said, and then added with resignation, “I don’t suppose there will be any more delays?”

  “No need to worry about that. Mr. Maxwell’s attorney assured me that his client wanted the final decree as soon as possible. Still, the court schedule was so full that six weeks was the best I could do. December twelfth, that’s the date. You’ll have your divorce in time for Christmas.”

  “Oh,” Amanda repeated, her fingers automatically reaching for a pen to make a note of the appointment. Her mind skittered away from the date she scribbled on the cover of the telephone directory. December twelfth.

  On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

  Frowning at the scrap of nonsensical song, she made herself concentrate on the voice at the other end of the line. But the conversation was already being concluded and she barely had time to say thank you before the phone connection was broken.