A Race for Love

by Jillian Dagg

  Inside the house, she said, "You sit down. I'm going to make lunch."

  Resignedly, he picked up his book. "Okay, let's see what you can do," he grinned, "and if your coffee's good, I'll keep you around."

  After lunch, Richard got a headache but wouldn't let her touch him or administer any help. He went into his room and closed the door.

  Tanya walked around the house by herself. Design drawings and photographs of racing cars adorned the walls of the living room. Model cars in all sizes stood on the shelves.

  Tanya checked Richard's bookshelves. Most of the books were about racing. Some were biographies of other racing drivers.

  She picked one out. Maybe it would help her understand her husband.

  She ate a lonely supper of salad and cheese wondering if she should have asked Richard if he wanted anything. Then, late in the evening when she was sitting in semidarkness, reading, he came out of his room dressed in a white terry robe, his hair disheveled.

  "Are you feeling better?" she asked, jumping up and dropping the book. She tried to conceal her embarrassment at seeing him so undressed with his robe gaping open displaying his broad chest with its mass of golden hair. It was something she would have to get used to....

  "A bit," he told her. His eyes slid over her rumpled jeans and tight cotton shirt. "Why are you sitting so quiet in the dark? We have a TV and a stereo, you know."

  "I didn't want to disturb you." Why was he staring at her like that?

  "You're very thoughtful."

  "I've been reading one of your books." She decided to change the subject.

  "You can do what you like here," he said. "It's your home."

  "I know, but..."

  He smiled slightly, "But it's strange?"

  "I'll get used to it."

  He took a couple of steps toward her and took her in his arms. "Oh Tanya," he murmured, stroking back her hair from her forehead, "any other woman would be storming around complaining because I'd left her alone all day, but not you, you just sit here in the dark so you won't disturb me."

  The warmth of his arms around her was comforting and she put up her hands to his chest and touched his skin, and the curly blond hairs she had noticed.

  "You're so lovely," he whispered, his lips against her neck.

  She felt her breath soar from her body.

  Unbuttoning her blouse, he moved his hand to gently caress her breast. She'd never been touched so intimately and involuntarily gasped.

  "Are you hungry?" she asked crazily, the first thing she could think of to say.

  "You don't know how much," he said hoarsely and drew her back into his arms.

  She pulled away from him. "I mean food."

  "Food," he nodded. "Yeah, I could do with some food I suppose."

  "I'll make you a sandwich."

  "That'd be fine." His eyes were cool now. She broke away and hurried into the kitchen.

  There wasn't much she could do for a moment, her heart was pounding so madly. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Surely a man's touch didn't always cause this tension. But this wasn't just any man. This was Richard.

  Later, when she came out with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee, he was sitting on the sofa watching television.

  She sat down beside him and he accepted the sandwich she offered him. He turned back to the television.

  She picked up her own coffee and sipped it. It wasn't going to be easy living with him. If only they were in love and she could be a real wife to him! He was still wearing the terry bathrobe and his long legs were stretched out in front of him.

  She could see a jagged scar running up beneath the golden hairs on his left thigh. She touched his arm. "I'm sorry."

  "What for?" he asked gruffly.

  "You know."

  "I understand. But I did think that you would want to make love with me."

  "Maybe if we were in love," she said, putting her coffee cup on the tray.

  "Well we're not, are we?" He was eyeing her narrowly.

  She shook her head. Why should she admit her vulnerability when he made his position quite plain? He had made a business arrangement. Well, she would keep it that way. He'd never mentioned love. Then why should she?

  "You knew what you were getting into, Tanya. I'll make it as easy as possible for you, but damned if I'm going to go without a woman for months on end just to satisfy your lofty expectations. I know I'm not exactly in the best of health, but I think I'm still attractive enough. I didn't lose my virility in the accident." He raised an eyebrow at her.

  She blushed, her lowered eyes unconsciously slipping to the ugly scar on his leg.

  He shifted impatiently. "I suppose I should apologize, but I've never met such a reluctant female before. It's a new experience." He smiled ruefully. "It's not the greatest for my ego, particularly at this stage in my life."

  Or mine either, she thought. The idea of another woman opening her mouth to his kisses, being caressed by his lean, sensitive fingers, was more painful than she cared to admit even to herself. "I'm really sorry," she repeated shakily. Tears stung the back of her eyes. All she wanted was love. She realized that now. If he told her that he loved her, she'd be his.

  Richard's eyes softened. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair.

  "You know your problem?" he said. "You're an old-fashioned romantic. It's hard to believe they exist nowadays, especially for an old cynic like me."

  "Maybe," she said. She picked up the tray and hurried out to the kitchen before he could see that she was almost crying.

  "Tanya?" Richard had followed her.

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, concentrating on unloading the tray of dishes.

  "Don't cry," he said. "I won't push you. Promise."

  He left her alone and she washed the dishes and put them away in the cedar cupboards. Would the kitchen ever feel like her own?

  She went through to the living room, but Richard was too absorbed in the television to even hear her low good-night as she passed by.

  She lay awake for hours listening to the rustle of the trees in the wind. What a failure her life had been! She had never had the chance to be a real daughter, and now she couldn't make the man she'd married a real wife. She sighed and settled herself down farther under the covers. Well, if he wanted her to grow up, she was trying to, but the growing pains were more painful than she had anticipated.

  The next day she got to the kitchen before Richard and cooked breakfast. If she couldn't share his bed, then at least she could cook his meals for him. When he came out of his room, he looked deathly pale.

  "Are you ill?" she asked anxiously.

  He sat down at the breakfast nook. "No." He began to eat the food she set before him. Suddenly he pushed the plate away and took a deep breath. "I think the traveling was too much for me."

  "Can I do anything?"

  "There's nothing you or anyone can do," he flung at her.

  He got up and turned on his heel. Through misty eyes, she watched him limp angrily away. He opened the door, walked out, and slammed it shut behind him.

  When she moved over to the window, she caught a glimpse of him standing by the lake, his hands thrust in his pockets. How had John Laughton dealt with Richard's moods?

  But then it was different for him. Even unsophisticated as she was, she guessed that part of their tension was sexual.

  Richard was a normal man; of course, he wanted a normal marital relationship. He had hinted as much. She had hoped to fulfill her obligations. Why was it that she shrank from him when she found him so attractive? If only he had revealed more of his feelings for her! She somehow felt that she was being treated as some sort of an object, a convenience, a commodity, and it hurt. Was she being over-sensitive? Had it all been a terrible mistake? She thought of England and the dreary fate she had once envisaged there. No! Anything was better than that, even life with this difficult and dangerously attractive, enigmatic man.

  The door opened and Richard
walked in. "Now it's my turn to say I'm sorry. I think I'm expecting way too much from you."

  "It's fine," she told him.

  He smiled, shaking his head. "Even if I had a knife in your back and was turning it, you'd say you were fine." He came to where she was standing in the kitchen. "We're going to have to call a truce. We can't live from day to day with this tension, although I'm not going to promise not to touch you because you're very desirable. Don't blush," he said, as he saw the color suffuse her cheeks.

  Tanya turned toward the sink and ran the tap for the dishes, wishing that she were more worldly and more of a match for him.

  "Tanya," he swung her around, his right hand gripping her shoulder, "Are you listening to me?"

  She nodded, tears straining at her eyes again.

  "I don't want any more conflict. Do you hear that? I don't want any more tension. I came up here to relax and recuperate. I like your companionship. You're a sweet, lovable person. Let's behave like sensible adults and develop a relationship that will bring us both satisfaction. Do you hear?"

  His gray eyes held hers as if in a challenge and she nodded.

  "Then you'll just take things as they come?" he said. "You won't try and want more before it's time?"

  "What about you?" she asked.

  "I want you," he told her, "I wouldn't have married you if I didn't, but I'll wait until we're both really ready."

  "Thank you," she said as calmly as possible but inside her heart soared. At least he wanted her. Eventually they might fall in love.

  He smiled. "Now," he said, "I don't want to see any more tears in those lovely green eyes of yours; there have been far too many the last few days."

  The remainder of the day was spent in comparative harmony. Richard was a charming, platonic companion and Tanya responded to his charm, though once in a while she caught herself wondering again how such an attractive man could have tied himself into a loveless relationship.

  In the evening, they listened to music. Richard taught her how to play cribbage and she beat him three times although she wasn't sure if he'd let her win or if she had some skill in the game. Then he made hot chocolate and they sat on the glassed-in veranda and drank it while watching the sun disappear over the lake, tipping the pine trees with a pink glow.

  "It's gorgeous," Tanya said, cupping her hot chocolate as she strained to see more from the window.

  "Are you going to stay then?"

  Tanya couldn't see Richard's expression in the half light. "I made an agreement to marry you."

  "I know, but I wouldn't ever want to hold you against your will."

  "You're not."

  "That's good," he yawned and stood up, putting down his cup. "I think I'll turn in now."

  Tanya drank the last of her chocolate and also stood up.

  He took the cup from her hands and put it down on the table with his. For a moment she thought that he was going to try to make love to her and she backed away from him.

  "I was just going to say good-night. Come here." He put out his hand and she took it, curling her fingers around his.

  Leaning over, he kissed her gently on the lips. "Good-night," he said, touching her cheek with his fingers.

  She placed her hand over his against her cheek. "Goodnight, Richard," she whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  Tanya drew herself out of the water and sat on the edge of the dock. She pulled a towel around her shoulders and covered her brief bikini. Although she'd felt warm at the beginning of her swim, she was now shivering. The water had been icy cold. She was sure that if Richard had been here, he would have warned her against swimming, despite the warmth of the sun.

  But Richard wasn't here. He was in Toronto, visiting his doctor. She had needed the exercise of the swim. The freedom she'd felt in the depths of the icy water had added a lightness to her spirit. She'd kicked and splashed as though dispersing the tensions of the past weeks.

  Richard didn't love her. She was sure of that. He'd shown no affection other than a friendly comradeship that would eventually drive her mad. Granted he still suffered pain, but he had improved immensely. He was now well able to climb without any help. Despite his declaration that he wanted her, he'd managed to keep himself detached, not touching her unless absolutely necessary, and not encouraging her to touch him. Strangely enough, lately she'd felt an overwhelming desire to smooth his hair or wind her arms around his neck, and even press herself against his body. In the past, such feelings had been alien to her. She hoped that they meant she could enter into a normal marriage situation.

  If Richard wanted her, that was. She sighed and stretched her limbs to greet the warmth of the sunshine.

  The unmistakable sound of the Ferrari made her look toward the house. Richard got out of the car. When he saw her sitting on the dock, he came to join her. If she was grateful for anything, it was that he moved with so much more ease now.

  "Hey," he smiled, "been for a swim or trying to get up the nerve?"

  "I actually went in," she told him returning the rare smile.

  She stood up and went to the flat rock where he stood. "How was it?"

  "The doctor? I'm getting better."

  "I'm so glad."

  Richard touched the damp towel that hung from her shoulders.

  "Sure you won't catch cold?" he said.

  "I'm strong," she told him. "You don't mind?"

  "That you swam?"

  She nodded.

  "Of course not." His eyes slipped to her hair that was beginning to curl around her face as it dried. His gaze lingered on to her lips.

  She moistened them with the tip of her tongue before taking a nervous step backward to try to avoid his gaze. The towel slipped to the ground. As she bent to pick it up. Richard stopped her.

  "Don't," he shook his head. "You're beautiful without it."

  Tanya touched the low bikini top with nervous fingers. She wanted to run upstairs to the house and change into more clothing, but something was keeping her rooted to the spot.

  "I knew you were lovely," Richard said thickly, "but I never expected anything like this."

  Tanya gave a little moan just before his mouth covered hers. This was what she'd been wanting this past while. To be held in his arms, against the strength of his lean male body.

  To feel his mouth devouring her own.

  Her hands moved up to clasp around his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair as his mouth lowered to the hollow of her throat.

  "Oh," she whispered as he unfastened the bikini top and let it fall between them.

  She arched her body to meet the desire in his. There was an ache deep inside her that needed to be fulfilled. She had no doubt that Richard was as aroused as she was herself.

  Neither of them heard the sound of a car; nor footsteps on the pathway.

  "Good heavens, forgive me," a man's voice said, "I forgot that you were newlyweds."

  Richard was holding Tanya's trembling body against his chest, shielding her nakedness from view.

  He took a deep breath. "Anyone ever tell you that you always arrive at the wrong time, John?"

  "I don't think I need to be told," John remarked, "I've got perfectly good eyes. Do you want me to leave?"

  "No," Richard shook his head, "just give us a couple of minutes."

  John retreated up the steps to the house. Richard looked down into Tanya's face.

  "Well, at least you look more like a wife." he told her softly. "How do you feel?"

  "More like a wife," she said. She disentangled herself from his grasp and picked up the bikini top and towel. She wrapped the towel around her sarong style.

  "If you don't want that to happen too often, you shouldn't wear that thing." He flipped the black bikini top that she held in her hand.

  "I wanted it to happen," she told him truthfully.

  "Well at least we've achieved something," he said, "we both want each other. Unfortunately," he glanced toward the house, "we have to entertain John for the next few hour
s, and knowing John, he won't leave all that early."

  They walked up to the house. John was waiting for them in the living room, discreetly gazing from the side window. He turned when they came in.