Battle of Wills

by Victoria Gordon

  They both stood admiring the painting for a moment, then Ryan said, 'We'd best go in to dinner now, or your soup will get cold.'

  They moved into a dining room that was nearly as large as the room they had just left, but lit only by a trio of candlesticks on the enormous maple table. A set of cafe doors, Seana noticed, led to a kitchen where, rather to her surprise, normal electric lights were obviously in use.

  'Generally I prefer the light from the lamps and the fire,' Ryan told her as he seated her.

  'What are you doing, reading my mind?' she asked, startled by the accuracy of his remark.

  'It's not hard, usually,' he replied with a slow grin, picking up his soup spoon and dipping it into the bowl in front of him. The soup was a clear, subtly-spiced consommé with tiny croutons floating in it. They both ate slowly, still not saying anything, and when the soup was done Ryan took her plate and shouldered his way through to the kitchen.

  There's no way that came out of a can, Seana thought to herself. You're just full of surprises tonight, aren't you?

  The main course was even more astounding, and she felt twinges of jealousy when it was placed before her— succulent chunks of pork tenderloin, broiled on a skewer and then smothered on a bed of rice by a tangy peanut sauce. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicate aroma as it tantalised her taste-buds.

  Ryan opened some excellent wine to accompany the satay, but still kept silent as he watched Seana tuck into the meal with undeniable enthusiasm.

  'That was delicious,' she said when only a denuded plate was left in front of her. 'What did you just whip up for dessert, crepes suzettes?'

  Ryan raised one eyebrow sceptically at her sarcasm, but said only, 'Not quite. I haven't got to that part of the book yet.'

  She shrank back inside herself, cursing her viperish tongue as he asked, 'Would you settle for mince pie and ice cream?' .

  'No ice cream, thanks, but if the pie is half as good as what I've eaten so far, I'll have an extra-large helping.' Redemption? Impossible to tell anything from those fathomless green eyes. He was silent as he picked up the dishes and moved silently through to the kitchen, emerging a minute later with the pie. It was, she decided after the first bite, quite definitely up to his established standard.

  They returned to the living room for coffee and liqueurs, and Seana sat pensively while Ryan stirred up the fire and placed a few fresh logs on it. He offered her a cigarette, only smiled at her refusal, then spent what seemed like forever in filling, tamping and finally lighting a pipe from the rack beside his own chair. And even after that he didn't say anything, and the silence was wearing on Seana's nerves.

  She began to fidget, shifting in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her ankles and peering idly about the dim room.

  He certainly wasn't going to make it easy for her, she decided. He just sat, appraising her through hooded, speculative eyes. And after a few minutes it was no longer really an appraisal, but something of a caress, bold and yet gentle, obvious and yet so subtle.

  'Say something, damn it!' she finally exploded. 'Don't just sit there undressing me with those insolent eyes. Say something! Tell me why I'm here. Tell me what you want?

  Ryan merely raised one eyebrow, watching her until she ran down, until the words ran out.

  'How many children would you like?'

  'What… what kind of a question is that?' she demanded after the moment it took for his words to sink in.

  'A fairly simple one, I would have thought,' he replied gently. 'And one I very much expect an answer to, unless of course you're planning on moving to Red Deer with Ralph.'

  Seana cocked her head, then turned away from his eyes, staring into the kaleidoscope of the fire. She wanted to answer, but dared not; she couldn't trust her mouth. Yet she must say something, and what finally came out was, 'Why do you want to know?'

  'I though I was asking the questions,' he replied calmly, still in that soft, deceptively gentle fashion. But he had raised that eyebrow again, rousing the suspicion inside her. He was playing with her, and she was afraid.

  'I'm not sure it's any of your business,' she said, then continued before he could say anything, 'but no, of course I'm not going with Ralph.'

  There, it was said, but had she also revealed the depth of her feelings for Ryan himself? Dared she? Her only guide was that hateful lifted eyebrow and a smug curling of his lip.

  'Just as well,' he said finally. 'He's too nice a guy; I don't think I'd wish you on him.' Mocking laughter in the eyes now, and Seana felt her temper rising to meet the mockery. She bit her tongue.

  'Well, thank you very much! And if that's all you have to say, I think perhaps I'd like to go home now.'

  'What? Without doing the dishes?' He laughed openly at her, rising lithely to his feet to stand before her, his stature that of a predatory cat. 'Surely Mother Jorgensen taught you better manners than that. And if she didn't—I will!'

  He was already reaching for her when she snarled, 'You just be careful… I bite!' Strong words from a girl who was cowering in her seat as if confronted by the devil.

  'Sure you do,' he grinned, and then his hands were on her shoulders, lifting her from the chair like a broken doll as he bent to capture her mouth with his own, kissing her with a fierceness that first frightened her, then began to play on her passion, rousing her despite her objections.

  His lips were like searing irons as they scorched across her mouth, her cheeks, then down into the neckline of her blouse, burning across the tops of her breasts. Seana wanted to fight him, but her body was already in surrender, her arms flung around his neck and every fibre of her straining against him, savouring the hardness of him against her.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and she opened her eyes to find herself snuggled tightly in against his muscular neck. 'You still haven't answered my question,' he grated, 'and you will, you know, so why not get it over with?'

  The lobe of his ear was only inches from her swollen lips, and she didn't even stop to think before her teeth nipped at it, not viciously, but enough to sting.

  Ryan grunted at the sudden pain, then thrust her away from him, his fingers like steel claws around her upper arms. His eyes glowed like the coals in the fire, and when he released one of her arms from one white-knuckled hand, she thought for a second he was going to strike her.

  Then the harsh lights faded from his eyes and he let go her other arm, stepping away from her with exaggerated caution. 'All right,' he said. 'You can do the dishes first.'

  He led the way into the enormous and perfectly-planned kitchen, a veritable chef's paradise with every possible convenience.

  'You can wash,' he said. And a moment later she was elbow-deep in dishwater, with Ryan standing beside her and drying the things as they emerged.

  But when she started to scrub at the first pot, he took it from her and laughed. 'Leave that,' he said, shaking his head. 'It's no problem.'

  'Don't be silly,' she replied. 'The pots and pans are always the worst, especially if you leave them overnight.' 'So throw them in the dishwasher.' The words were very soft, his voice deadpan, but the laughter was there in his eyes and in the curve of his lip. Seana turned to face him, unable to believe she had heard him right. But yes, there was a dishwasher, although how she had missed seeing it before, she couldn't imagine.

  'You… you tricked me,' she cried, 'and what's more, you did it deliberately! Just as you always do.' Lifting her soapy hands from the sink, she snatched the tea-towel from his hands and scrubbed at her fingers as if they were covered in syrup.

  When he took her gently by the shoulders, she began to flail at him with her fists, but it was like striking them against solid wood.

  'Only because I love you,' he said in the midst of her assault, so softly she thought she must be hearing things.

  'What did you say?' she asked, stopping with both fists still raised before her.

  'I said I love you, but you couldn't expect me to marry you until I've seen how you sh
ape up in the kitchen,' he replied gravely. 'We can't spend all our time in bed, after all.'

  'You… love me?' The words came out, but she was only half aware she'd uttered them as a question. The sound of her heart rushing, laughing, alive again, overshadowed all else.

  'Well, of course I love you. Surely you don't think I'd put up with you otherwise?' He bent to kiss her softly on the lips before she could reply. 'And don't get stroppy with me, ladybug. It cost me an arm and a leg to buy Ralph off so that I could organise this evening, and I have no intention of spending any more of it arguing.'

  'Yes, sir,' she replied, raising her lips willingly, greedily, to meet his. There was no violence in his kisses then, only the sweetness of unity as their lips met, as her arms stole around his neck to let her fingers tangle in the dark red curls.

  His arms closed around her, his hands moving over her body in a symphony of delight that roused her not to surrender, but to the edges of fulfilment. When he carried her to the bedroom, her body was light as air, her mind almost adrift with the intoxication of wanting him, needing him, and… finally… having him.

  Later, her entire being awash with the afterglow of loving, she asked quietly. 'Do you still want to know how many children I want?'

  'I think we'd better get the wedding organised first,' he grinned. 'Then we can just take them as they come; we've plenty of time… all the rest of our lives.'

  Seana sighed, lying back against the curve of his arm as she let her fingers romp through the curly hair on his chest and stomach.

  'There might be a slight delay about the wedding,' she said hesitantly. 'I… I sort of promised Mrs Jorgensen I wouldn't get married without her being there. It was only a joke, but she won't be back for another four months.'

  'We'll get married at Christmas; that gives us just enough time to organise.' He was adamant, no give in his voice at all.

  'But… but what about Mrs Jorgensen?'

  'She'll be here. Stop worrying about it and kiss me,' he whispered, nibbling at her ear. 'Lord, I think I'll never get enough of you.'

  'Stop that!' she muttered against his lips. 'How can she possibly be here for a Christmas wedding? She's in Europe.'

  'She'll be here… because I've already organised it with her,' Ryan growled. 'Now stop arguing and come here.'

  And his lips and hands were controlling her, destroying any further arguments she could possibly have raised. It was much, much later when she finally got round to asking how he'd dared to organise her wedding date without even asking her… and by then it didn't really matter.