Wedding Fever

by Lee Wilkinson

  Her satisfaction was short-lived. A moment later he had grasped her wrists and, using the weight of his body to hold hers down, pinioned her arms above her head.

  He took her then, without any preliminaries and with a disregard for her as a woman that was little short of brutal.

  But her emotions were running at fever-pitch, and she met his anger with anger and his passion with an equal and matching passion that sent them plunging into a fiery volcano.

  For perhaps the first time in his adult life Nick lost his magnificent control, and in losing it found a depth of satisfaction that he’d never experienced before.

  Afterwards he lay with his head heavy on her breast while their heartbeats and breathing slowed to a more normal rate.

  When he lifted himself away she was already fast asleep, beautiful lips slightly parted, long black lashes lying like fans on her cheeks, one outflung hand resting palm uppermost by her dark head.

  He gazed down at her, a look on his face that would have transfixed her had she seen it—a mingling of anger and pain and tenderness, and something more than tenderness.

  With a sigh he gathered her into his arms, and, having kissed her softly, pulled the duvet over their sweat-slicked bodies and settled down to watch her sleep.

  Some time later, half-asleep and half-awake, she stirred and stretched, the movement causing a draught of chill air. With an incoherent murmur, she ducked her head and snuggled closer to the comforting warmth that wrapped around her.

  A living warmth. She opened her eyes to find that her nose was pressed against Nick’s muscular chest. When she moved, the contact with his hair-roughened skin caused her to sneeze.

  The explosive little sound made him laugh. He had a pleasant laugh, deep and masculine, a laugh that rumbled in his chest and made her want to laugh with him.

  But she had nothing to laugh about.

  Remembering the wildness of their coming together, and what had gone before, she went hot and cold. Drawing away, she looked at him.

  There were scratches on his face and what looked like the beginning of a bruise beneath his left eye. On his shoulder she could see a set of marks, angry reddish purple against the smooth bronze skin.

  Following her gaze, he said, ‘Yes...’

  Shame filled her and she flushed scarlet. She had acted like an alley cat.

  ‘But don’t blame yourself too much. You had plenty of provocation.’

  Deliberate provocation, no doubt. But even that didn’t excuse the way she had behaved.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Does that mean you’re willing to call a truce and try to enjoy our honeymoon?’

  ‘You said you intended to make it hell,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I said a lot of things when I was angry,’ he admitted wryly. ‘But I’ll be happy to settle for a spot of peaceful coexistence.’

  Nothing that had been said altered the basic situation, or the way she felt about things, but she’d been badly shocked and frightened by her own lack of control, and she doubted if her abused nervous system could take any more at the moment.

  Dark blue eyes looked into green. ‘Pax?’

  She knew that the peaceful coexistence Nick had proposed wasn’t enough. It might make the immediate present slightly more bearable, but to save herself from becoming a burnt-out shell she had to get away from him at the very first opportunity.

  He lifted her chin. ‘Well, Raine?’

  ‘Pax,’ she agreed, and hoped that on this occasion he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  CHAPTER NINE

  APPARENTLY he couldn’t. The tension died out of his face. Looking suddenly happy, almost carefree, he kissed her lightly on the lips and said, ‘The kiss of peace... Now, you stay where you are while I warm the place up.’

  He got out of bed and crossed the room with the unconscious pantherish grace that characterised all his movements. Opening the stove, he stirred the embers into life before piling on split wood and several good-size logs.

  Leaning back against her pillows, the duvet pulled up to her chin, Raine watched him covertly.

  When he drew back the curtains she saw that the previous night’s storm had passed. The day was fine, the lake calm and the sky a clear bright blue.

  As he stood by the window, quite unselfconscious about his nakedness, sunlight poured in, turning his bronzed body to gold.

  Oh, but he was breathtaking, beautiful as Apollo, with a magnificent male beauty that made her throat go dry and every nerve in her body grow tense.

  When he turned to smile at her she observed, her voice a little squeaky, ‘It’s a good thing we haven’t any neighbours.’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, not close ones. Apart from an occasional hiker camping in the woods, our nearest neighbours are Kurt and Lisbet Doody. They have a cabin across the lake. They’re nice folks.

  ‘When they realise we’re here they might come over to say hi...’ His eyes on her face, he went on, ‘Or after breakfast maybe we could go and call on them?’

  Painfully aware that they must both look as if they’d been in the wars, she didn’t relish the thought of meeting his friends. It didn’t seem to bother him, however, so, squaring her shoulders, she answered as cheerfully as possible. ‘If that’s what you want to do.’

  But, picking up the lack of enthusiasm in her tone, he said mildly, ‘We don’t have to; it was merely a suggestion... So, any ideas on what you would like to do today? Walking? Canoeing?’

  Raine knew from her last visit that a tarpaulined two-man canoe was stowed under the veranda, and she loved being out of the lake, but at the moment she felt more like stretching her legs.

  Before she could answer, he suggested hopefully, with a gleam in his eye, ‘Unless, of course, you’d prefer to spend the day in bed?’

  Hurriedly, she said, ‘I could do with some exercise.’

  His lifted brow made her blush scarlet.

  ‘Outdoor exercise,’ she emphasised tartly.

  ‘Pity.’ Grinning at her discomfort, he collected an armful of clothes and headed for the bathroom.

  By the time he emerged, wearing casual cords and an olive-green turtle-necked sweater, his still damp hair a dark blond, the air was comfortably warm.

  While Raine took a leisurely shower, letting the hot water run over a body which felt stiff but at the same time glowingly alive, Nick opened a carton of orange juice and prepared breakfast.

  Sitting in front of the stove, they tucked in hungrily to platefuls of tinned sausages, beans and chunks of the malted fruity brown bread that on first acquaintance Raine had wrinkled her nose at, but which she now loved. They finished off with mugs of coffee and huge slices of cold apple pie.

  Replete, she sat back with a sigh while Nick poured more coffee.

  When their mugs were empty again, he asked, ‘Ready for that exercise you mentioned?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can move.’

  ‘Come on, lazybones.’ Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feel ‘I’ll try to choose a route that’s not too muddy, but just in case there are spare boots with the outdoor gear on the porch. And we’ll have to make sure we’re visible,’ he added. ‘It’s the start of the hunting season.’

  When, following Nick’s example, she’d put on boots and a warm anorak with an orange waistcoat, he dropped a bright orange hat on her head and said, ‘You’ll do.’

  Considering the amount of rain that had fallen, the mud wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, and by the lake the rocky uneven ground was covered with a brown carpet of pine needles, which were pleasantly springy underfoot.

  A cold, bright front had followed the storm, and the sunny air was crisp and sparkling, making the walk along the lakeshore most enjoyable.

  Coming to a halt, Nick put an arm around her waist and, drawing her back against him, with his free hand pointed across the lake to the opposite shore. ‘See over there...?’

  A low frame-built house nestled amongst the trees, blue smoke rising from its c
himney. Suddenly flustered by his nearness, the effect he had on her, she nodded without speaking.

  ‘That’s the Doodys’ place.’

  Needing something to say, she asked, ‘Do they live there permanently?’ and wondered fleetingly how they made a living.

  ‘Yes. Have done for years.’ Answering her unspoken query, he went on, ‘Kurt is a writer and Lisbet keeps horses. Sometimes I take up their offer of the loan of a mount... Do you ride?’

  ‘I’m not really a horsewoman, but I enjoy going out with Margo from time to time.’

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow, if it’s fine, we could ride over to Saskis Pond, where there’s a beaver lodge? We may be lucky enough to see one of its inhabitants.’

  ‘Oh, I’d like that,’ she said eagerly.

  ‘Then after breakfast I’ll drive round to the Doodys and borrow a couple of horses.’ Leaning forward a shade, he dipped his head so that his cold cheek rested against hers. ‘If you fancy the idea, we could take a picnic in our saddlebags.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ She tried to answer calmly, but her heart was racing and her normally low-pitched voice sounded high and a little breathless.

  She thought he might be going to kiss her, but after a moment he straightened up and they moved on.

  Feeling both regret and relief, she asked herself crossly how it was that another human being could affect her so strongly.

  The very fact that he did made it all the more imperative to get away as soon as possible, before she found herself unable to go, caught and trapped in a silken web of allure like a fly in a spider’s web...

  Deep in thought, she tripped over a root, and Nick had to catch her arm to save her falling.

  ‘It pays to watch where you’re putting your feet,’ he warned her. ‘Even in boots you can come a cropper.’

  They stood still for a moment while she regained her breath and looked around her. The wet woods gleamed with the russets and golds of autumn, and the water—higher than usual, Nick told her, because of all the rain—was Mediterranean-blue beneath a cloudless sky.

  ‘It looks very inviting,’ she observed as they moved on.

  ‘Exhilarating is more the word,’ he corrected ruefully. ‘Finn and I used to swim here a lot as boys, and believe me it’s cold—even in summer.’

  ‘Finn...’ she mused. ‘It’s an unusual name.’

  ‘He’s an unusual man. An intelligent, multi-talented Swede who could have been anything he chose. He can speak several languages, he’s an excellent musician and he qualified as a doctor before he decided to join me in business. His family belonged originally to Maine’s Swedish colony before they moved down to Boston.’

  ‘I gather you and he virtually grew up together?’

  ‘We were and still are like brothers. The Andersons, as well as being our neighbours, were good friends, and we always spent our vacations together. In those days they rented a rather tumbledown cabin on the far side of the creek, though Finn usually stayed in ours.’

  He smiled reminiscently. ‘Despite her fear of bears, my mother used to allow us to bed down on the porch—we thought it was more adventurous than sleeping indoors...’

  But all at once Raine didn’t want to hear. To know more about his boyhood would only serve to bring him that much closer, to deepen her feelings, when what she needed to do was tear herself free from the emotional bonds that were already binding her to him.

  ‘And instead of making us eat with the others, she used to let us cook sausages and beans over our own campfire. . . When my mother died, Inga Anderson took me under her wing. . .’

  ‘How old were you then?’

  ‘Eleven. An awkward, inarticulate age. But Inga seemed to know how I felt. Without making a fuss, she gave me all the comfort I needed and as much love as she gave her own children.’

  ‘Is she—?’ Raine began.

  Face clouding, Nick shook his head. ‘She and her husband Nils died in an accident on the freeway about eighteen months ago.’

  It was obvious he still felt their loss.

  Before she could express any sympathy, however, he was going on, ‘Finn went through a rough patch, but he...’ The sound of a plane’s engine drowned his words.

  They both looked up. The white aircraft with its orange and blue markings was almost overhead, flying low, heading across the lake.

  Raising an arm, Nick waved.

  The squared-off wings dipped in answer.

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘That’s Finn?’

  ‘That’s Finn.’

  ‘How did he know it was you?’

  ‘I left a message at the office, telling him I was planning to bring you up here.’

  ‘Oh...’

  ‘He’s taking a couple of construction engineers over to the camp at Loon Lake,’ Nick went on as the small plane disappeared into the distance. ‘At a guess he’ll spend the night there and do the return trip tomorrow. There’s a possibility he’ll stop in to see us on his way back.’

  Raine bit her lip. With so much on her mind she was hardly in the mood for company.

  ‘You don’t appear to be very pleased at the prospect,’ Nick remarked. When she stayed silent, he pressed, ‘I rather thought you liked Finn?’

  ‘I do.’ And it was the truth. She had taken to the quiet, pleasantly spoken man on sight. ‘So does Margo,’ she added with a slight smile.

  ‘I fancy the attraction is mutual,’ Nick observed. ‘So when we get back to England we may be seeing more of him.’

  ‘I’m not sure he’s really Margo’s type.’ Raine spoke her thoughts aloud.

  ‘What is Margo’s type?’

  ‘She needs a very strong character—a man she can respect and who’s capable of being dominant. But often she’s attracted to the quiet, sensitive sort, like Finn.’

  Nick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  ‘Basically she has a kind, sunny nature, but a positive personality that tends to overwhelm the kind of men she falls for, and then she’s disappointed when they can’t stand up to her.’

  Seeing Nick’s wry expression, Raine asked, ‘You think I‘m misjudging her?’

  ‘I think you’re misjudging Finn. He may be sensitive, but he’s not soft in any way. In fact he’s a hell of a lot tougher than he looks. If I had my back to the wall, either figuratively or literally, there’s no man I’d rather have by my side...’

  In the light of those remarks Raine found herself hoping that Nick was right about the attraction between Margo and Finn being mutual.

  ‘What kind of woman does Finn go for?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Margo might well fit the bill. I know he hasn’t much time for the empty-headed clinging-vine sort. He once told me that if he married, he’d like a woman who would stand by his side and fight if the going got tough. All the same, Finn’s protective, and he has the capacity to love deeply and lastingly...’

  Oh, lucky, lucky Margo, Raine thought, and tried not to let her own bitterness swamp her.

  ‘He also has a nice sense of humour. I remember once when we were boys and a rather staid family friend came on vacation with us...’

  For the remainder of the walk Nick talked about Finn, making her laugh despite the pain that burnt inside like acid.

  When they got back Nick cooked delicious buckwheat pancakes for lunch, and doused them in maple syrup.

  Despite her enormous breakfast, Raine managed two, and she wondered a shade bleakly if the walk had given her an appetite or if she was merely comfort-eating, using food as a substitute for happiness.

  Their coffee finished, Nick made up the stove before querying, ‘Would you like to take the canoe and have a trip round the lake? Or if you prefer, and you’ve had enough fresh air for one day, we could stay indoors and play games?’

  On one of the bookcase shelves, beside a large first aid box, there was a chess set, a crib board and some cards and various other games.

  However, his sly glance at the bed had
made it amply clear what kind of games he had in mind, and she said hastily, ‘Oh, a trip round the lake.’

  His smile was sardonic. ‘A prompt, if unflattering answer.’

  ‘It seems a shame to waste the sunshine.’ She managed to keep her voice level.

  ‘Perhaps it does.’ A glint in his eye, he added reflectively, ‘The nights are long at this time of the year.’

  On her previous visit, Nick had taught Raine how to balance the canoe and wield one of the short broad-bladed paddles, and after a trial run close to the shore, it soon came back to her.

  She wore a knitted hat pulled well down over her ears, but he was bareheaded in the sunshine. He sat in front of her and she found herself wanting to touch the back of his neck, to run her fingers through the thick tow-coloured hair that curled slightly into his nape...

  ‘Ready to start?’ he queried, glancing over his shoulder.

  ‘Yes, I’m ready,’ she answered quickly, and, feeling a betraying warmth creeping into her cheeks, was glad when he turned his gaze to the front.

  Steering to avoid the rougher section, where the brown creek emptied itself into the blue lake, Nick remarked with a chuckle, ‘Finn and I used to take it in turns to ride a home-made raft the length of the creek. Standing...’

  ‘Standing?’ she echoed incredulously.

  ‘It didn’t count as a proper run unless you did. After Owl Pond there’s a straight stretch, then a U-bend before the rapids. An old wooden footbridge used to span the creek just above the bend, and the real skill—apart from shooting the rapids—was in ducking low enough to clear it without losing your balance.

  ‘I wouldn’t care to try it at the moment,’ he added. ‘Even at low water the rapids can be tricky. With all this rain there’ll be a raging torrent coming down...’

  But out on the mirror-calm lake it was peaceful enough. The rhythmic dip of the paddle, the chuckle of the water and the curtsying motion of the light craft were oddly soothing, and Raine would have thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon if she hadn’t been made tense and on edge by the thought of the approaching night.

  She wanted him... Oh, how she wanted him! But while her body welcomed his touch ecstatically her mind found it intolerable, and the ensuing conflict threatened to tear her apart and destroy her.