Each Time We Love

by Shirlee Busbee

There was an awkward silence between them and Savanna's fingers plucked at the gown of delicate fawn cambric that she was wearing. With nothing better to talk about, she said softly, "Thank you for the beautiful clothes. There seem so many of them! I can't imagine that I shall be able to wear them all."

  There were many things that Adam would have preferred to talk about, but if she wanted to exchange polite nonsense, he could see no harm in it. A sardonic smile on his lips, he replied, "You're welcome. As for not being able to wear all of them—believe me, from what I know of your sex, before very long you shall be telling me that you haven't a thing to wear and that we must repair immediately to Madame Galland's in order for you to select some other outrageous, expensive bit of feminine apparel."

  At the stricken expression that crossed Savanna's face, Adam could have torn out his tongue. Flying from his chair, he knelt beside her, one knee on the floor, and grasping her hand, he said urgently, "Oh, sweetheart! Don't look so! I only meant to tease you."

  Her face averted, in a constricted tone Savanna mumbled, "If you are so ashamed of me and my clothes, I don't see why you went ahead and married me."

  A ludicrous expression on his handsome features, Adam stared at her. "Ashamed of you?" he exclaimed in shocked, angry accents. "Good God! How could you think I am ashamed of you?"

  Savanna risked a glance at him. He looked totally at sea. Just as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Baffled, she stared at him. "But that's why you took me to Madame Galland's, isn't it?" she demanded. "Because you were ashamed of my old gowns and didn't want to be seen in public with me?"

  "Of all the nonsensical notions!" Adam growled. Springing up to sit on the sofa beside her, he took both of her hands in his. "Sweetheart," he said, "the only reason I took you to Madame Galland's is because I thought you would like some new gowns. Not to wrap it up in clean linen—I'm a rich man and it gave me pleasure to buy things for you. It had nothing to do with being ashamed of you! Good Lord! What sort of coxcomb do you take me for?" His blue eyes black with emotion, he declared fervently, "You are the most exciting woman I have ever met, whether you are garbed in that frightful brown, er, frock you wore when we first met or wearing the most fashionable clothes money can buy! Wear what you damn well please! It makes no difference to me."

  There was such vehement sincerity in his words, such heartwarming candor in his eyes, that Savanna had no choice but to believe him... and to feel foolish for having doubted his motives. Her cheeks flushed, she lowered her eyes to their clasped hands and muttered, "I'm sorry! I should have realized that." She swallowed and met his gaze. "I apologize."

  "Well, I should hope so!" Adam returned smartly, a teasing twinkle in the depths of his eyes. As he stared intently at her, the twinkle faded and he said softly, "You can't have thought I was ashamed of you, sweetheart. You silly goose! Whatever gave you that idea?"

  Her cheeks blazing with embarrassment, Savanna wanted to look anywhere but into those mesmerizing sapphire-blue eyes. Nervously she cleared her throat and confessed, "When we met your friends, the Ashers, you seemed in a hurry to get away from them—as if you didn't really want to introduce me to them."

  "I didn't," Adam admitted frankly, and when Savanna's outraged gaze swung back to him, he smiled. "But not because I was ashamed of you." A scowl darkened his brow and his mouth twisted wryly. "Sweetheart, it wasn't you I was ashamed of, but that I found myself in an, er, embarrassing situation. I was once, er—" Adam stopped, and to Savanna's astonishment, she distinctly saw a flush mount his lean cheeks. Adam, that cool, uncaring sophisticate, actually blushed. "You see," he finally said lamely, "I was once, ah, friendly with Miss Asher—before I ever knew you."

  "Oh," said Savanna hollowly, her aquamarine gaze fixed accusingly on her husband.

  "Savanna! I didn't even know you existed. Surely you cannot hold past peccadilloes against me?"

  "Probably not," she admitted primly, "but it does explain a lot." She frowned. "Except for her excessive friendliness with me. I'd want to scratch her eyes out if our situations were reversed."

  Adam grinned with such masculine satisfaction that Savanna wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Her cheeks flaming, she said with suspect airiness, "Of course, that's only the way I would feel if we had married under normal circumstances."

  "Oh, absolutely!" Adam returned, an unholy gleam of amusement dancing in his eyes, his heart rejoicing at this first sign that Savanna cared for him. "Only under normal circumstances, of course."

  Savanna sent him a quelling look. "Are you teasing me?"

  Adam flashed her one of those knee-weakening smiles and pulled her toward him. "Definitely! But I'd much rather kiss you." And suiting words to action, he pressed his warm mouth to hers.

  It was a tender kiss, a wealth of never-spoken emotion behind it, and Savanna's defenses crumbled, her arms creeping around his neck. He kissed her for a long, dreamy time, his firm lips moving in gentle eroticism against hers, but never plunging them into wild passion.

  When his head finally lifted, Savanna was still flushed, but for far different reasons, and there was a bemused expression on her features. His hands cupped her face and locking his gaze with hers, he said clearly, "I could never be ashamed of you. You are my wife! And if there is any shame between us, it is because I did not come to you as innocent as you came to me. And if I hurried you away from the Ashers, it was because they are not very nice people and because I did not like the notion of my wife consorting with a former mistress than because of any shame for having married you." He stared at her keenly. "Understand?"

  Dazedly Savanna nodded, her heart light and filled with hope. He had not said the words aloud she yearned to hear, but she would have had to be a silly goose indeed not to have concluded that his emotions for her ran very deep. She smiled at him, a smile of such warmth and brilliance that Adam blinked at the sheer wonder of it. "I am a silly goose!" she admitted. "I should have known better."

  Adam knew he was grinning idiotically and striving to regain command of the situation, he said gruffly, "Yes, you should! And because you must be punished for thinking so ill of me, I shall insist that Madame Galland come to call here at the hotel and you shall be forced to select at least three more gowns." An enchanting gurgle of laughter came from Savanna, and Adam tried to look stern. "Now, don't trifle with me! Or you'll see what a really clutch-fisted husband you've married—I'll increase the number to five."

  They sat there on the sofa grinning at each other, but as the minutes passed, their amusement fled. His face suddenly intent, Adam leaned forward and with fingers that trembled he touched her cheek. "Oh, Savanna," he breathed, "I do lov—!"

  The sharp rap on the door shattered the mood and interrupted Adam's words. A vexed expression on his face, he sprang up from the sofa, smothered a curse and walked to the door.

  Flinging open the door, he didn't change his expression; if anything, it increased. As soon as Savanna recognized the voice of their unexpected and unwanted visitor, she knew the reason for his darkening scowl.

  "Oh, Adam! I just had to see you before we leave," Betsey cried in a breathless tone. "Charles insists that we leave tomorrow morning and this is the only moment I shall have to see you." Peeping up at Adam's unrelenting expression, she asked, "How is Savanna? Has there been any improvement?"

  "See for yourself," Adam said ungraciously, reluctantly allowing Betsey to enter the room.

  If Betsey was disappointed to see Savanna sitting up and looking, if not in blooming health, certainly enchantingly attractive, with her aquamarine eyes appearing enormous in her pale face, the fiery glow of her hair intensifying the alabaster purity of her skin, no sign of this showed outwardly. There wasn't even a sign of the trepidation Betsey must have felt, wondering if Savanna had remembered her part in the fall. Rushing to Savanna's side, she gushed, "Oh, my dear! How well you look. My goodness, but you gave me such a scare yesterday! I swear I didn't sleep a wink last night worrying about you."

 
Savanna made a polite rejoinder, but her thoughts weren't on Betsey—at least not on Betsey's words. At the sound of the young woman's voice, she had received an unpleasant jolt, and in her memory something stirred, a flashing fragment that was gone as soon as it had appeared. Only half listening to Betsey's conversation, Savanna frowned. Now, what was it? Why couldn't she remember?

  Betsey kept her visit short. She had come to spy out the territory, and on the one hand she was pleased that Savanna's memory seemed to be faulty, but on the other, she was furious to see how little damage the fall had caused. Of course, the fact that Savanna had lost the baby was wonderful, but still!

  Drifting away from Savanna, her stylish gown of pale green jaconet muslin floating daintily above the floor, Betsey reached out and laid her slim white hand on Adam's arm, where he still stood by the door. The sight of that little hand reaching out had a startling effect on Savanna. Memory, sharp and vivid, erupted in her brain, and as if it had just happened, she could feel the savage impact of those two little hands on her back.

  Savanna jerked upright and in tones of incredulous fury she exclaimed, "You pushed me! I didn't fall. You pushed me!"

  Betsey stiffened, her green eyes meeting Adam's kindling blue gaze for a split second. Spinning around to look at Savanna, she asked with credible innocence, "Whatever are you talking about, my dear?"

  Her voice shaking with suppressed rage, Savanna snarled, "I'm talking about yesterday afternoon, when you pushed me down the stairs. I remember it all. I didn't faint and I didn't fall—you pushed me!"

  Betsey flashed a sorrowful look at Adam's rigid face. "Oh, my dear, I am so sorry! You didn't tell me that she was not in her right mind. How sad for you."

  "I'm not crazy!" Savanna said, struggling to stand. "I didn't remember until I heard your voice and saw your hand on Adam's arm, and then it all came rushing back to me. You deliberately pushed me down the stairs—you killed my baby and tried to kill me!"

  A swift glance at Adam's white-lipped, frozen face told Betsey that she would find no help from that quarter, and giving a nervous titter, she edged closer to the door. "Well, I won't argue with you, my dear, but I'm afraid that your memory is faulty. What possible reason could I have for doing such a horrid thing?"

  In a cold, inimical tone, Adam said, "I think I can answer that—you hoped that with Savanna out of the way I would return to you."

  "My dear, dear Adam," Betsey said lightly, "aren't you being just the tiniest bit conceited? As if I would do such a thing merely to fix a man's interest! Have you forgotten that I am on my way to visit with a gentleman I will very likely marry? Believe me, I found you very attractive, but—" She laughed deprecatingly. "Darling, our time together was heavenly, but it is over and no one is happier than I that it is so. How can you even conceive that I would do such a dreadful thing?" An ominous silence greeted her words. "Well!" she uttered in an offended accent. "I can see that you don't believe me. And to think I only came to call out of kindness. It's obvious that there is no talking to either of you! If you will excuse me, I will be on my way."

  "Not so fast," Adam snapped, catching her arm in a brutal grip. "Do you really believe that I shall allow you to harm my wife and child and escape unscathed?"

  Nothing had gone as she had planned, and Betsey lost her temper. "How dare you!" she exclaimed furiously. "I don't give a damn what you believe!" From the icily wrathful expression on Adam's face, it was obvious that she had lost the gamble. "You can't prove anything!" she hissed. "It's my word against hers, and everybody knows that she suffered a knock on the head. Are you so certain that she is telling the truth?" Adam's features remained implacable and Betsey could have screamed with frustration. A sneer on her lovely face, she added, "How I ever thought that I wanted to marry such an overbearing brute like you is beyond me. Let me go!"

  Adam's hand tightened savagely on Betsey's arm, a fierce desire for revenge clawing through him. "I ought to break your neck," he snarled softly, the look on his handsome face murderous, and for one dangerous moment the outcome hung in the balance. With a tremendous effort of will, Adam reined in his blazing fury. Killing Betsey wasn't the answer. It would give him great satisfaction to strangle her with his bare hands, but his pleasure would be over in an instant. No. She had to pay for what she had done, in such a way that she would live and go on paying for years to come. Taking a deep breath, he flung her arm aside. "You're not worth it! I'll not hang for your death. But hear me well, Betsey, for I'm not through with you." He smiled, a terrifyingly cruel smile, and murmured almost gently, "No, I'm not through with you yet, my dear, but when I am, perhaps you'll wish I had broken your neck!"

  Betsey grasped the crystal knob, and opening the door, her green eyes flashing with hatred, she glared at him and spat venomously, "I'll make you sorry for this, Adam St. Clair! You see if I don't!"

  The door slammed shut behind her and Adam turned to Savanna, who was standing, strained and pale, next to the sofa. "Dios! What an awful woman!" Savanna said with loathing. "I should like nothing better than to drop her in an alligator hole, but I am very glad that you did not strangle her." She sent him a shaky smile. "I would not like for you to hang either."

  With swift strides Adam crossed the room to fold her into his arms. "Sweetheart! I'm sorry that you had to endure that ugly scene." His mouth twisted. "Sorrier than you know that it was because of me that you had to suffer."

  Her head pressed against his shoulder, she murmured, "It wasn't your fault, Adam. You could not have known. She must be mad!"

  "Mad and vicious!" Adam agreed grimly. Aware that the scene had taken more out of Savanna than she had realized, he picked her up and carried her to the bedchamber. Smiling down at her, he said, "The physician said that you were to rest, and I think that whether you like it or not, the best place for you right now is bed."

  Savanna didn't argue. She was suddenly shockingly tired, and while she had wanted to be up such a short while ago, the thought of her bed didn't seem as undesirable as it had previously.

  Adam made an excellent ladies' maid, deftly whisking the gown from her body and sliding a soft, delicately embroidered shift of finest lawn over her. He settled her into the bed and after plumping the pillows behind her back, he surveyed her closely. There were purple circles beneath her eyes and a hollowness about her cheeks that he did not like, but considering the narrowness of her escape, he was not displeased.

  Lounging at the side of the bed, he took one of her hands in his and murmured, "As soon as we can, I think we should return to Campo de Verde. You will feel better in your old home with your mother nearby." His face twisted. "I should never have brought you to New Orleans—not only is it the worst time of year, but our paths would not have crossed with the Ashers."

  There was a heavy silence, the terrible loss Betsey had caused them in both of their minds. Adam roused himself first and forced a light note into his voice. "I waited until you had awakened this morning before I wrote to your mother. While you slept today, I sent off a message to her, explaining everything, and though I reassured her that you were recovering, she will be anxiously awaiting our arrival."

  Savanna smiled faintly. "She will cosset me to death."

  "Naturally." He cast her a considering look. "I think it is just what you need right now. Go to sleep, sweetheart. I shall be in the other room, so call out if there is anything that you need."

  With a docility which would normally have been foreign to her, Savanna nodded, and before Adam had even reached the doorway that separated the two rooms, her eyes had closed and she was sleeping dreamlessly.

  For Adam there was no such escape, and he spent the next several hours pacing the confines of the sitting room, his mind tortured by how easily he could have lost Savanna. It did not help his frame of mind, either, to know that he had been, albeit unknowingly, the direct cause of what had happened. Because of his meaningless affair with Betsey, his wife had nearly died and their child had been destroyed. His fists clenched impotently at
his sides. The cost be damned! He should have broken Betsey's neck when he'd had the chance.

  But despite his black, bitter mood, despite even the hungry desire for revenge that clawed and twisted in his gut, there were more mundane things to distract him, and eventually, a snifter of brandy in front of him, he sat down and began composing the various letters necessary to inform his family of not only his marriage but also the tragedy that had struck. In the letter to his parents, he stated only the bald facts, promising to write more soon. The letter to Jason and Catherine, however, revealed not only how desperately he loved Savanna, but also his terrible guilt and grief over the loss of the child. In neither letter did he mention Betsey's part in the tragedy—he wanted no sane counsel, no coolly reasoned arguments, no interference when the time came to take his revenge.

  Chapter 20

  Intent on his own plans for vengeance, the one thing that never occurred to Adam was that Betsey would strike out at him. Hurrying along the corridor to her own rooms, green eyes glittering with rage, Betsey had her head full of nefarious plans for revenge against Adam. How dare he! she thought furiously as she stormed into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. The very idea! It was bad enough that he'd married that common little slut, but to have believed Savanna's story over hers and to have actually threatened her! Well!

  Having heard her angry return, Charles wandered into Betsey's room through their connecting doorway, and surveying the damage she was wreaking upon anything that crossed her path, he saw that his sister was thoroughly enraged. He had been annoyed yesterday when she confessed to what she had done, but he hadn't been surprised—Betsey could never bear to be thwarted. His main worry was that there might be unpleasant repercussions, and when Betsey had insisted upon visiting the St. Clairs this afternoon to survey the situation, he had been against it. They'd had a terrible argument, but he had been unable to sway her from her decision and, short of locking her in her room until they left tomorrow morning, there was nothing he could do. Many times, Charles found it easier to let Betsey have her way, and this had been one of them. The fact that she had returned so furious meant that her winning little ploys hadn't fooled anyone, or something infinitely worse—exposure. Betsey's exposure was the last thing he wanted. Charles wasn't overly worried; it would be Betsey's word against Savanna's in any case, and he very much doubted that Adam or Savanna was going to wash their linen in public.