Night of the Cotillion: Georgia (The Americana Series Book 10)

by Janet Dailey

  She shivered at the calculating coldness in his voice. “How can you expect me to agree to become your mistress?"

  “I've studied your family. You possess one of those trite, old-fashioned relationships of all for one and one for all. Sacrifice is second nature to all of you. With your father lying in a hospital bed, neither you nor your brother would think twice of setting aside your education to rally around the family hearth and protect it.” Amanda could tell by the derision in his tone that he considered such action foolhardy and unworthy of praise. Jarod wasn't admiring their closeness; he was making fun of it. “Your brothers will find that it's much easier to leave college than it is to return after a few years’ absence. Their future rests on the outcome of your decision about my offer."

  “To become your mistress,” she repeated, throbbing pain making her words tremble.

  “My mistress, my wife, whatever you want to call it.” Jarod shrugged with a gracefully arrogant movement.

  “Wife?” Amanda stared into the cold bronze of his face.

  “I thought I'd already explained.” His expression mocked the confusion in her eyes. “That vain family pride wouldn't allow your parents or your brothers to accept charity from your lover, but if I were your husband and a member in good standing, they wouldn't think twice."

  “So you're asking me to marry you?” Amanda asked, needing to hear the statement in order to believe it.

  “Yes,” Jarod answered without any show of emotion. “Aren't you in love with me anymore, or have I proved to you how fickle and fleeting desire is?"

  For one charged second, she had almost believed that he was going to admit he loved her, that he had found their separation unbearable. To him, she was only the grapes just out of reach, the sweet tender grass on the other side of the fence. He had once told her that he always got what he wanted. The thrill was in the chase. Once she was his, in body as well as in spirit, the excitement would be gone. As he had put it, the newness would fade and he would be ready to discard her for another.

  “If it takes you so long to answer,” he jeered softly, “perhaps you're finally realizing that love is an illusion with no substance in fact."

  Amanda couldn't meet his derisive eyes. “Love exists, Jarod. I was so blinded by love for you that when you deceived my mother, I mistook your cruel treachery for kindness."

  “It was not deceit if you say yes,” he reminded her cynically.

  Bitter gall rose in her throat. “You know you've left me with no choice."

  “Only because you want me. If you found me repulsive, you wouldn't consider my proposal, not even for your family.” A finger tilted her chin upward so he could look into her face.

  “Please, don't humiliate me anymore.” The sun-gold tips of her lashes fluttered over her brown eyes, shutting out the painful acknowledgement that what he said was true. She started to turn away.

  “Not yet.” His arm reached out, blocking her movement. His fingers touched her arm in a light grip that she knew could instantly become tike steel should she try to leave after he had ordered her to stay. “Our discussion isn't over."

  “Discussion?” It was Amanda's turn to jeer. “Isn't my agreement to anything you suggest merely lip service?"

  “More or less,” Jarod agreed complacently. “But I want you to become adjusted to the fact that we'll be getting married next Saturday. Naturally we'll wait until tomorrow to inform the rest of your family."

  “Saturday?” she breathed. “That's impossible! How can you insist on such a thing with my father so ill?"

  “Your father has survived the attack. True, his condition is critical, but he'll recover. If you're harboring any foolish notions that you aren't going to marry me until your father can walk down the aisle beside you, you'd better change your mind now. It will quite likely be months before he would be recovered to that point, and I will not wait that long,” he told her with brutal candor. “Since our marriage is a farce, a celebration would be hypocritical. A small wedding with the immediate family in attendance is all we require to put the seal of legality on our affair for your parents’ benefit. Under the circumstances everyone will understand our reason for keeping it simple, and with your father in the hospital we'll be spared the idiocy of a honeymoon."

  “You have it all laid out like a battle plan. Every opposition is anticipated in advance.” Her stomach churned sickeningly as she stared at the ruthless man who was soon to be her husband. “Like General Sherman, you destroy everything in your path until you achieve your objective. After Sherman reached Savannah and the sea, he remained only a few months—or was it two or three—then he turned his armies in another direction, seeking another victory elsewhere."

  “Nothing lasts forever, Amanda,” he said bluntly, not at all upset by the sarcastic sting of her voice. “You can reconcile yourself to the fact that in a few months you'll be free of me and my plundering Yankee ways. What's a few months out of your young life?"

  “Marriage really means nothing to you, does it?” she murmured, amazed that he could already be plotting to be rid of her.

  “No. And that shocks you, doesn't it? A piece of paper or words spoken in a church can't change the fickleness of human nature. There's the difference between you and me. You are a romantic, trying to change what can't be changed, and I am a realist, accepting what can't be changed."

  “And children? Don't you ever want children?"

  An indefinable something flickered across his face at her question before the mask hardened.

  “No. Procreation is not one of my desires,” he snapped. “Do you have any more questions?"

  “No, none,” she answered, shaking her head sadly.

  “I saw the doctor go in to speak to your mother. Shall we join them?"

  The stroke, a severe one, had left her father partially paralyzed and deprived him temporarily of his speech. He regained consciousness that evening and the family was allowed to see him for short intervals. Jarod Colby was a law unto himself. His entrance into the restricted room with Amanda wasn't questioned by any of the hospital staff any more than it had been questioned by her family.

  Amanda's heart turned over at the sight of her father's lanky frame covered with a bed sheet and surrounded by various tubes and monitoring devices, The worst was trying to summon an encouraging smile as she stared into his brown eyes glazed with fear. The sight of the previously indestructible figure lying helplessly in the bed constricted her throat until the simplest greeting couldn't squeeze through. Jarod's arm moved around her waist as he almost physically carried her the last two feet to her father's side.

  “Hello, Sam,” Jarod said quietly. “Or perhaps I should call you father, since your daughter has finally agreed to marry me."

  Her eyes darted to the aquiline profile in surprise. Jarod had said they wouldn't tell the family until the next day. Then she felt the questioning eyes of her father turned on her for confirmation. Jarod's fingers bit punishingly into her waist when she hesitated.

  “It's true, daddy.” Her eyes filled with tears, whether from the futility of her own love or from the pain induced by Jarod's grip.

  “I don't want you to worry about a thing,” Jarod instructed her father in that quietly authoritative tone of one accustomed to taking charge. “We're all family now. I'll take care of everything until you're back on your feet."

  The nurse on duty in the room blinked at the pair in surprise, but Amanda didn't notice. The frightened look in her father's eyes had dimmed as his eyelids fluttered down and a small breath of relief slipped from his pinched lips. She knew then that his fear had been for his family and not his own welfare. There was satisfaction in knowing her action had relieved that burden. Instinctively she raised her eyes to Jarod to thank him for putting her father's mind at rest. But in the arrogant bronze mask, she saw that this was all part of his plan. He was manipulating all their emotions to serve his own ends.

  “We'd better let your father rest now,” he said, his eyebrow arching at
the sudden flare of anger in her eyes. Amanda moved quickly out of his grasp to the hall, brought up sharply by the hand that yanked her back to him. “What's wrong with you?” he demanded, keeping his voice low so that the scene between them appeared quite intimate.

  “You're using us. You're using all of us without any regard for our feelings or our pride,” Amanda accused bitterly.

  “You will all be receiving compensation.” His mouth moved in a cold smile.

  “I hope someday your plans come crashing down on your head!” Her whole body trembled with the resentment boiling inside. Hate—the black side of love—was showing its face.

  But Jarod only chuckled. “My poor little red-haired witch. Are you trying to prophesy my doom?"

  “You can't have your way all the time. I only hope I'm there when you finally can't have what you really want."

  “Will you pick up the pieces, I wonder?” he asked with a bemused smile, his hand reaching out to close over her throat while indicating how frail and insignificant was her spite. His touch frightened and excited her. It burned while it left her shivering from the cold thought of the time when he would tire of her. Dark, indolent eyes caught the paradoxical emotions that chased each other over her face. “Fiery Amanda, do you see how ambivalent your reactions are already becoming toward me? Right now you can't make up your mind whether to kiss me or claw me."

  It was true. She couldn't. Then he stepped away and she could do neither.

  * * * *

  IN THE WEEK that followed, Amanda was exposed to the many facets of Jarod's character. With her brothers he became the older brother, establishing a camaraderie while gently exerting his authority even as he gave the impression he was consulting them. Her mother looked on his as a wise counsel; he placated her fears with one hand and smoothed the way with the other. Even her grandfather stopped making snide comments about Yankees. Where there was disorganization, Jarod organized. Indecision was swept aside by his decisive action. He never explained, yet people were always left with the impression he had. Charm, diplomacy, compassion, authority, loyalty all surfaced at some time.

  Amanda had thought he would flaunt his generosity, buy his way into the family, but strangely Jarod handled the transaction of money in such a businesslike way that no one saw a reason to speak of it. She marveled at the ease with which he persuaded others to go along with his suggestions, never issuing ultimatums or reminding them in any way of the power he held as head of Colby Enterprises.

  It was ironic that Jarod was also honest. If he hadn't been, she would have succumbed to his considerable magnetism in the belief that he loved her. She wondered which was the worst hell—having an affair with a man, then finding out he didn't love her, or marrying a man knowing he didn't love her?

  Light was caught by the arc of gold metal on her finger. There was no longer any reason to make imaginary comparisons. She was Mrs. Jarod Colby, for better or worse. At the moment it felt worse. But it was fear. Amanda felt the tenseness knotting her muscles, nerves so raw that the feather-lightest touch on her skin made them scream.

  Standing in front of the altar with Jarod at her side, she had repeated the marriage vows that to her had always been sacred. The quiet clarity of Jarod's voice had made her heart ache. He had sounded so sincere, yet when her hopeful gaze had turned to him, there was no expectant light of tenderness in his jet dark eyes, only a possessive glitter that seemed to brand her as his. Until the ceremony everything seemed to have been moving at triple time. Now it had suddenly ground down to half speed.

  The filmy net curtain slipped from her fingers. The only thing visible was her own reflection staring back at her from the window pane. The sleek satin sleeves of her robe felt as chilling as the apprehensions that enclosed her heart. Knowing there was no bond of love between them was beginning to make her believe that the ceremony and the marriage license meant nothing; and knowing that any minute Jarod—correction, her husband—would walk into the bedroom didn't ease the emotional turmoil that brought wary shadows to her brown eyes.

  Except for the coolly indifferent kiss Jarod had given her at the wedding, he had not touched her. That was another thing she couldn't understand. He professed to want her so much, yet he hadn't shown the slightest bit of emotion or desire. Her hands rubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of the shivers that trembled over her skin. A flush of shame colored her cheeks as she wondered how she could possibly meet Jarod's eyes. In retrospect, Amanda could see he had bought her, paid a high price for her. Tonight was when he would inspect the merchandise.

  “Are you afraid of the dark, Amanda?"

  The mocking voice spun her away from the window, her fingers automatically sliding up her mud-green robe to clutch the top more tightly together. She had thought her hearing was attuned to the sound of water running in the shower of the adjoining bathroom, but the uneasy wanderings of her mind must have blocked out the signal of its stoppage. Every light in the muted gold bedroom was on, an attempt by Amanda to take away the dominance and intimacy of the turned-down bedclothes.

  Jarod's question hung in the air as her wide eyes stared at the unbearably short toweling robe wrapped around his middle. The bronze tan of his face was repeated in the same dark shade over the rest of his body. The broad chest with its thick cloud of curling black hair tapered to slim hips and a flat stomach. The sinewy muscles in his thighs and legs seemed coiled, waiting for the command to carry him across the room to her. Waves of crimson red suffused her entire body as her apprehensive gaze encountered the twisted smile of amusement on his face, signaling that he was aware of her scrutiny. Amanda pivoted back to the window, her breath coming in jerky gulps of near panic.

  “What induced that becoming blush?"

  The gold carpet didn't betray the sound of his movement, but the snapping sound of a light being switched off warned her he had moved. There was another click and another light went off, leaving only the lamp beside the bed. Then her nose caught the clean scent of soap behind her and she stiffened.

  “Are you embarrassed because your friend Cheryl told me of your infatuation for me as a girl?” he mocked softly, his voice coming from over her right shoulder.

  Her head dipped slightly as she remembered the mortification she had felt when Cheryl had blurted out the story of Amanda's schoolgirl crush at the small reception after the wedding. Never would she forget the cynical amusement that had danced in Jarod's eyes.

  “Must you bring that up?” she demanded in a grudging murmur, her fingers nervously raking back the red gold hair that had fallen forward.

  “The night of the cotillion I sensed that your resentment of me had nothing to do with my supposedly superior status in the community. Yet I couldn't imagine that the incident of my rudeness you related could have had such an impact. It never occurred to me that I could be an object of idolatry to a young girl,” he mused thoughtfully.

  “Don't remind me what a fool I was!” Amanda protested, blinking back the acid tears that burned her eyes.

  “Surely your dream came true. Didn't you marry me this afternoon?” Jarod taunted her.

  She turned sharply around to voice her remorse for the empty vows they had exchanged, vows that were twisting knives of regret in what was once her heart. But she hadn't realized how very close he was to her. The few inches that separated them made the impact of his virility all the more potent, smothering her until she couldn't catch her breath.

  Her gaze flew upward to the dark, enigmatic face indolently watching her. Amanda quickly averted her head, although she had lost the power for further movement. Unwittingly her gaze was directed to the bed and she shut her eyes tightly against the sudden vision of Jarod's raven black hair contrasting with the whiteness of the pillow.

  “I can't go through with this,” Amanda whispered weakly. “I thought I could, but I can't."

  “Why?” She had expected arrogance or anger, but certainly not that note of amused curiosity in Jarod's voice. “We made a bargain."

  �
�Yes, but—oh, don't you see?” Her eyes were round and pleading when she looked at him, her fingers tightening their hold on her robe. “You don't want me. I'm only something you paid for and now you feel you must use to receive your money's worth."

  Not a word of denial came from his lips. “How did your astute mind reach that conclusion?” As he continued to tower above her, there was an air of satisfaction in his expression, as if he were glad she had made the discovery.

  “Oh, Jarod, I'm not totally ignorant.” The aching words scraped her already raw throat. “In all the times we've been together this past week, you never once indicated that you ever wanted to touch me, let alone make love to me."

  “Would you have preferred that I did?"

  “Yes,” she admitted softly, bowing her head to elude his penetrating gaze. “It might have made tonight easier for me."

  The hand under her chin firmly tilted her head back so he could see her face. “Did you want to kiss me? Do you want to be held in my arms?"

  “Yes.” This time she didn't try to hold back the two tears that slipped from her lashes as his hand lightly rested on her shoulders.

  “Why?"

  “You know why,” she answered in a tormented whisper, “I love you."

  His hands moved over her shoulders, down her arms, to close over her wrists, gently tugging so that her fingers would release their hold on her robe before he drew her hands to his chest. His naked skin was fiery hot to the touch. The heat seemed to fuse her hands in place. Amanda didn't think she could have pulled them away if she had tried. She felt his fingers deftly untying the sash that held her robe in place.

  “Why didn't you even kiss me once?” Her words came out cloaked in an agonizing moan as his hands slid around her waist, their touch burning through the thin fabric of the nightgown beneath her robe.

  “Because I swore I would make you ache for me the way I have for you these past months.” A savage black light blazed in his eyes. The mask fell away and she could see how tightly leashed his control still was as he pulled her roughly against him, his physical need of her more apparent. As always, the contact of his lean, muscular body dissolved all resistance.