by Diana Palmer
He caught her wrist, and a fierce heat blazed in his green eyes, in the half-amused smile on his dark face.
“Did it hurt?” he asked curtly.
“Let go of me, you savage,” she breathed furiously, her eyes glittering, her face bright with anger and frustration.
He laughed harshly as he jerked her across his lap and held her there despite her struggles. He pitched the unfinished cigarette off the edge of the porch and wrapped her tightly in his arms.
“Jude!” she protested, wriggling.
“Keep that up, honey,” he breathed unsteadily in her ear, “and we’ll wind up the way we were in the woods that day. Can’t you feel what’s happening to me?”
She was still instantly as the feel of his body got through to her. She lay quietly in his arms, aware of the sharp tang of his cologne, the clean smell of him, the warmth of his body as he held her. The hand curled around her wrist was strong and bruising. The arm at her back was just as steely. And she was awash in sensation.
He laughed softly at her embarrassment, and he released her wrist to tilt her face up to his hard eyes.
“Society girl,” he growled, studying her quiet body in his arms. “Do you hate it here? Do you hate living with a man who can’t recite Shakespeare and discuss the latest bestseller with you?”
She gaped at him, stunned. “You’re college educated,” she managed.
“I took my degree in business, with a minor in economics,” he reminded her. “I didn’t have time for the arts.”
She searched his eyes in dead silence. “I…I don’t have much time for reading these days, and I can’t…recite Shakespeare, either.”
He seemed to hesitate, and the fingers holding her chin relaxed, became caressing. “Do I know you at all?” he wondered quietly.
Her lips parted on a rush of breath. “Probably not, and what difference does it make? You wanted a mother for Katy and my share of the stock. Isn’t that enough?”
“Apparently it is for you,” he said, his voice cutting. He searched her eyes. “You can do without me very well, can’t you, honey?”
Her eyes fell to his jutting chin. “You’ve been avoiding me just as hard,” she said curtly.
“Do you miss me when I go away?” he challenged. He tilted her chin back up and searched her shadowy eyes. “No, hell, no, you don’t.”
“Why should I?” she demanded, her voice breaking.
His face hardened and a curtain fell over his darkening eyes. “I haven’t been particularly kind to you, have I, Bess?” he asked after a minute. “Dragging you out here, forcing you into a marriage you didn’t want, and for all the wrong reasons.” His fingers touched her lips gently, softly, and he looked at her as if he’d never taken the trouble to really see her before. “Married, but not married.”
“And with no way out,” she said with a weary sigh.
“Yes.” His voice was curt, as if he didn’t like admitting that. “And up until now neither of us has made any effort to live up to our vows, have we?”
She studied him warily.
“I haven’t cheated on you,” he said coldly, “if that’s what that searching little look was all about. The only woman I’ve had since we married was you.”
She blushed and looked away.
His hand moved into the thickness of hair at her nape and stroked it gently. “Even that wasn’t much to look back on, was it?” he asked bitterly. “Both times, I gave you hell afterwards.”
“I’m sorry I was such a disappointment,” she said coldly.
“You’ve never disappointed me,” he said under his breath. “Not ever.”
That brought her eyes wavering up to his and held them.
“I was like a boy with you,” he breathed, grinding out the words. “I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t control what I felt. You…made me vulnerable, and I hated you for it.”
Her eyes searched his, and she could hardly believe what he was admitting. “Me?”
“You.” His hand stroked her throat, then moved down over the softness of the sweater, touching her hesitantly with fingers that were unexpectedly gentle. “It’s been like this since I carried you out of the darkness that night you were fifteen, Bess,” he said quietly, holding her eyes. “If I’d kissed you that night, we’d have gone for each other like starving wolves. We start burning up the minute we touch. You see?” he breathed, running his fingers lightly over the taut thrust of her breasts, dropping his eyes to them. “In broad daylight…”
Yes, she knew. Something inside her had always known how much he wanted her. But it was only desire, and that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted love.
His fingers were under the sweater now, on bare flesh, and he was watching her as they moved up.
“No bra, Bess?” he asked as his hand brushed lightly over warm, swollen flesh.
Her bras were too tight, and she hadn’t had time to replace them, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She caught his wrist as the old familiar weakness began to smother her.
“Jude, don’t,” she pleaded, removing his hand.
“You’re mine,” he said curtly. “All of you. Why shouldn’t I touch you when I want to?”
Her lower lip trembled. “What’s the matter, Jude, have you been missing Crystal’s company so much that even I can stand in for her?” she burst out.
He froze. A black scowl darkened his face. “What did you say?”
“You want her, don’t you?” she whispered. “Even if you haven’t made love to her yet.”
His chiseled lips parted. “Are you jealous of me?” he asked slowly.
Her eyes fell to his chin. “Let me go, please.”
“No, not yet. Answer me. Are you jealous?”
Her long eyelashes swept down over her cheeks and she relaxed against him with a weary sigh. Her hand rested against the vest beneath his jacket, and he was pleasantly warm against the chill.
“Ask me why I spend time with Crystal and I’ll tell you,” he said over her head.
But she didn’t want the answer. She didn’t want to know. Impulsively, uncharacteristically, she let her head slide back onto his shoulder and curved an arm up around his neck. He looked as if she’d hit him.
She felt the advantage and took it, smiling breathlessly at the look in his glittering eyes. Her lips parted and she ran her fingers through his thick hair, carelessly dislodging the hat as she did.
The recklessness she felt was mirrored in his hard face. “Is this what you felt?” he asked curtly, winding his own hand into her hair to jerk her head back. “This, Bess?”
His mouth opened on hers, forcing her lips apart, penetrating deeply in an assault that was all wild tenderness. She arched in his arms, both hands in his hair now, her mouth answering his, demanding, needing.
The swing stopped and was still. His hands slid under the sweater again and took the warm, swollen weight of her breasts. She trembled and moaned sharply.
He lifted his dark head slowly, staring down into her hungry eyes. His thumbs edged over the taut peaks in a lazy, maddening rhythm, and all the time he looked at her, watching her helpless reaction to him.
“When are they coming back?” he asked in a voice that sounded unusually thick.
She licked her lips. “I don’t know.”
He bent and brushed her open mouth with his. “We could lock the bedroom door,” he whispered.
“Yes.” She arched again, crying out, as the pressure of his hands increased. She was unusually sore, and he drew back instantly.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked tenderly.
“I…I’m sore,” she said, and laughed nervously. “I don’t know why.”
“I’ll be careful with you,” he said, studying her eyes. “I’ll be gentle this time, I’ll take longer. I’ll treat you like the virgin you were that first time, Bess.”
She trembled softly in his arms as he slowly got up from the swing, cradling her against him.
“You…laughed the first time,” she remembered
shakily.
“You were wildfire in my arms, blazing with the pleasure that I was giving you,” he said quietly. “My God, I was so proud…you were a virgin, and I was making you feel that way.”
She caught her breath. “I didn’t know.”
“I couldn’t tell you.” He bent and kissed her softly. “Do you really want me this time?”
Her lips parted on a wild breath. “Oh, yes, I want you,” she whispered feverishly. Her arms locked around his neck and she trembled. “Jude,” she moaned, arching up.
His eyes flashed as he walked into the house with her. Inside the doorway he bent, his open mouth pressing down on the high mounds of her breasts even through the fabric, and she cried out.
His heart was thundering as he walked with her toward the staircase, and she felt the same wildness they’d shared that day in the woods. He might not love her, but he wanted her. He wanted her! And, God, she wanted him!
But even as his boot touched the first step, the loud sound of a car approaching burst into the silence, and Jude cursed roughly.
“Not now,” he ground out, burying his face against Bess. “Oh, God, not now!”
Her hands cradled his head and she struggled to regain her lost composure. Slowly he put her down, regret and bitterness mingling in the expression on his hard face.
She turned away, tidying her hair as best she could with her back to him.
“Bess?” he asked softly.
But before she could answer him, the door burst open and Katy and Crystal descended on them in a swirl of skirts and laughter.
“So you’re finally back,” Crystal called, following Katy’s example as she ran into his arms and kissed his tanned cheek soundly. “About time, too. We’ve missed you, haven’t we, girls?”
“Si, we miss the sound of yelling from the study, all right,” Aggie murmured with a grin as she carried packages into the living room.
“Welcome home, Daddy!” Katy laughed.
Jude, caught up in it, was laughing, too, his face more relaxed than Bess had ever seen it, and she mourned the little taste of happiness she’d just lost. She turned and walked off toward the kitchen as Jude was coaxed into the living room to look at the purchases.
“Don’t you want to see what they bought?” Jude asked Bess.
She stopped with her back to them, blind to the hopeful look on his face, the almost pleading one on Crystal’s.
“I need some coffee. I’ll make a pot, shall I?” she asked brightly, and walked away before they could question the quaver in her voice.
Bess didn’t look at Jude for the rest of the night; she couldn’t bear to remember how she’d tempted him. He was going to be furious about that. He always was when his fiery ardor cooled. She kept carefully out of his way until she could sneak upstairs and go to bed.
“Why didn’t you go with us today?” Katy asked as Bess tucked her into bed. “We missed you. Crystal said we should have dragged you along and made you come.”
“I had things to do here, darling,” Bess said with a smile. “I’m glad you had fun, though.”
“I didn’t. Not really,” Katy admitted. She reached up and kissed Bess’s cool cheek. “Crystal is fun to be with, but she just talks all the time, like she’s afraid to stop, so nobody else ever gets to. You know? You listen.”
Bess’s eyes clouded. She kissed the young girl back. “I love you,” she whispered.
Katy beamed. “I love you, too. Good night, Bess. Isn’t it nice that Daddy’s home?”
“Lovely, darling.”
“He said he’d be up to tuck me in later. He had to talk to Crystal.”
Bess nodded, turning away before Katy could see her hurt expression. “Good night, darling.”
“‘Night, Bess, sleep well.”
Back in her own room, Bess put on her flannel gown and crawled wearily into bed. She felt vaguely nauseated, and the swelling in her breasts was beginning to be uncomfortable. Something that should have happened three weeks ago hadn’t, and she felt frankly nervous. It was too soon to tell, of course, but she had an odd feeling that she was carrying Jude’s baby.
Her hands went unconsciously to her flat stomach. A baby. A little boy with green eyes and black hair, or a little girl who might look a lot like Katy. She smiled. Even if she lost Jude, at least she’d have the baby to love. She could give it all the warmth and adoration she longed to give to him. Except that he didn’t want it. He only wanted her body, and not even that when Crystal was around.
What if Crystal did want him? She was playing her cards close, and Bess couldn’t figure out why she was staying at Big Mesquite so long. Why wouldn’t she go back to Oakgrove, or to France, or somewhere? But it would be impolite to ask her to leave. She laughed shortly. Jude would never let her go anyway. He…cared about her. He laughed with her. She hit the pillow with an angry fist. Why couldn’t he laugh with Bess like that?
Even as she was silently asking the question, the door opened and Jude walked in. He was wearing his suit slacks, but only a partially unbuttoned white shirt with them. And he looked oddly tired. Worn-out.
“Yes?” she asked coldly.
He laughed shortly. “So we’re back to that, are we?” he asked quietly. “The mask is in place, the barriers are up. I can’t get near you.”
“Can’t you?” she asked bitterly.
“Physically, yes,” he agreed. He rammed his hands into his pockets and went to stand beside the bed, looking down at her tousled hair and flushed face with strange, lingering eyes.
“That was all you wanted, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“At first.” His eyes searched her face. “I must have hurt you a hell of a lot those first few weeks.”
“Don’t worry, Jude, I’m a survivor,” she replied, lowering her eyes to the coverlet.
He sat down on the bed, tilting the mattress with his weight, and she cringed away from him.
“Oh, God, don’t do that,” he ground out, wincing. “Bess, I won’t hurt you. I won’t even touch you if you don’t want it.”
She relaxed a little, but she was still tense, and it showed.
“What do you want?” she asked unsteadily.
“What a question.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and glanced at her. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head. He lit it and rose to produce an ashtray from the dresser before he sat down again. “Bess, we can’t go on like this.”
Cold sensations worked down her backbone. “You want a divorce?” she asked.
“No!” he burst out, scowling. “For God’s sake, I told you at the beginning that it wasn’t going to be a fly-by-night marriage.”
“Yes, of course,” she whispered.
He drew on the cigarette. “I meant, we’ve got to start trying. Both of us. Doing things together, living like married people. We’ve got to stop making our lives and Katy’s a battleground.”
Katy. Of course. He was worrying about Katy, as usual. She folded her hands and stared at them. “What do you suggest?”
He looked down at her. “You could start sleeping with me.”
“Will your bed hold all three of us?” she asked venomously.
His eyes flashed. “I’ll tell you one more time. I am not sleeping with your sister,” he said coldly.
“My stepsister,” she corrected.
He ran an angry hand through his thick hair. “My God, can’t we even talk without arguing?”
Her face was icy, but she kept her mouth shut.
“Bess, meet me halfway,” he said softly, glancing at her. “You can’t know how hard this is for me. I’m painfully aware of how I’ve treated you. But at least make the effort, can’t you?”
She watched him curiously. She wondered at this change in him. Or was it just another trick, another way to make her pay for forcing him into a marriage he didn’t want?
“You don’t trust me, do you?” he asked levelly.
“How can I?” she asked honestly. “Every time you let me get clos
e, you find some nasty way of getting at me, of making me pay for what you consider your weakness.”
He bent his head and smoked his cigarette quietly. “Yes,” he said finally. “I suppose I do. Next to Katy, you’re the only weakness I’ve ever discovered, society girl.” He laughed bitterly.
“And you hate that,” she muttered. “You hate being out of control in any way.”
“Don’t you?” He lifted his head, watching her. “You fought every inch of the way that first time with me, not to give in, not to let me please you. But it happened anyway, and you were angry, just as I was.”
She lowered her eyes to his chest. “I was the one who paid for it,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he said curtly. “I hurt you. I meant to. But it backfired, in ways you can’t imagine.” He bent over her, holding her eyes. “But all that aside, we can’t go on like this. Avoiding each other, cutting at each other. We’re married, Bess, for good. We’ve got to pick up the pieces and make a go of it.”
“Then send Crystal away,” she said coldly.
He lifted his chin. “Is that an ultimatum?” he asked. “Have you reached the stage where you think you can give me orders because you know I want you?”
She swallowed. “I’m not trying to do that.”
“It sure as hell sounds like it.” He got to his feet, glaring down at her. “I’ll go halfway, lady. But I won’t go the distance. When you’re ready to talk sense, you know where to find me.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “Wherever my stepsister is.”
He gave her a hot glare before he walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Bess lay there with tears running silently down her cheeks. Why hadn’t she agreed to try, at least? Why were her emotions so haywire that she couldn’t even talk rationally? She turned her face into the pillow. It was probably all just tension. Just tension. Her body would resume its natural rhythm in no time. She wasn’t pregnant, she wasn’t! It was all just her own imagination.
As the days passed, Jude invited her to go places with him: into town to buy wire, on brief trips to neighboring ranches, to social affairs. And she turned down every invitation abruptly and without explanation.
“My God, Bess, won’t you even try?” he growled one night in exasperation.