by Diana Palmer
“I am trying. To be left alone,” she returned.
He sighed wearily, watching her in an increasingly familiar way, one that turned her weak. “One day I’m going to take the choice right out of your hands, honey,” he said in a menacingly soft tone. “I’m going to carry you up to my bed and love you out of your mind. Then we’ll talk.”
She flushed and got up out of her chair. “About what? About how you hate wanting me?” she asked. “Well, I don’t want you, Jude. Not anymore.”
He made a sudden move toward her, and she backed up against the door, wide-eyed and frightened.
He scowled darkly at that look and hesitated. “I could make you beg,” he said harshly.
Didn’t she know it. Her eyes closed. “What would be the point?” she said gently. “I haven’t made any trouble lately, have I? I’ve been polite and sweet to Crystal, and you and I have put on a grand front. Katy thinks everything is just fine.”
He sighed wearily. “Bess, do you hate me?” he asked quietly.
She studied his face, noticing how tired and worn he looked, how sad. “No,” she said. “I don’t hate you.”
He moved toward her slowly. “We could sleep together,” he said. “No sex. Just sleep. We could try to get used to each other.”
But she couldn’t bear that. Especially now. Because she was beginning to lose her breakfast each morning, and Jude wasn’t stupid. He’d know.
She swallowed. “I…like sleeping alone,” she whispered.
“That’s the whole damned problem with our marriage,” he said curtly. “You like doing everything alone!”
“Well, I didn’t drag you out here and force you to marry me!” she burst out, tears welling up in her eyes.
He reached out and dragged her into his arms, holding her close, rocking her like a child. “Hush, honey,” he whispered. “Hush, now, don’t cry. Don’t. Please don’t.” His hand soothed her cheek, her hair. His lips touched her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her tear-washed mouth. “Don’t cry, honey, I can’t stand it.”
He was so tender. Tender in a way he never had been before, and she reacted to it helplessly, letting him dry her tears with his handkerchief.
“So trusting,” he breathed, studying her eyes. “You used to look at me like that once. In the very beginning. And I cut you like a whip, didn’t I?”
She dropped her eyes to his chest. “You didn’t want to marry me. I understood.”
His hands caught her shoulders and held them bruisingly tight. “I didn’t want to marry anyone. But I wanted you so damned much. I’d wanted you for years. And once I had you, all I could think about was having you again.” He leaned his forehead against hers with a weary sigh. “Bess, I get up wanting you in the morning and I go to bed wanting you at night. Isn’t that revenge enough for you?”
It was. Oh, yes, it was. But she didn’t think she could bear to be intimate with him again when he didn’t love her.
“I’m so tired, Jude,” she whispered. “I need to sleep.”
He drew away, studying her. “You really don’t want me anymore?” he asked quietly.
Gritting her teeth, she slowly shook her head.
He let her go finally with a rough laugh and turned away. “I’m not even surprised. Women haven’t made a habit of wanting me.”
He was at the door when she remembered Elise and the scars and all the torment he’d sustained at the hands of women who didn’t want him.
“Jude!” she cried.
But he wouldn’t look at her. “Go to sleep, Bess. I won’t bother you again.”
And with that mocking remark, he went out and closed the door between them.
Chapter Nine
The next morning Crystal was at the breakfast table when Bess got there, sitting next to Jude and apparently flirting for all she was worth.
“There you are, finally,” Crystal chided. “I thought you were going to spend the day in bed.”
Actually, she’d been in the bathroom, not in bed, feeling sicker than usual first thing in the morning. But it wouldn’t do to let that out, so she smiled instead.
“I was sleepy,” she told her stepsister. “Hi, Katy,” she added, winking at the young girl. Jude, she ignored.
“Crystal wants to go and see the Alamo this morning,” he said, forcing her to look at him.
“You’ll have fun, I’m sure,” she replied coolly.
“You and Katy are coming, too,” he continued, finishing his eggs.
“No, I’m not,” Bess replied. “I don’t feel like hiking around downtown.”
His eyes narrowed. “I said, you’re coming.”
“Now, Bess, don’t spoil the day for the rest of us,” Crystal coaxed, and shook back her glorious hair. “You were telling Katy the other day that you wanted to see it. Why not today?”
Bess could have told her stepsister why not, but she bit her tongue and sipped her coffee instead. “All right,” she said finally.
“You’ll like it, honest you will,” Katy promised. “You and I will go around the grounds and I’ll show you this neat old squirrel who poses for pictures.”
“She isn’t kidding,” Jude said with a quiet smile. “He’s an old squirrel, and he actually will stand still when he’s photographed.”
“Have you taken his photo, Jude?” Crystal asked.
“No, but my office is near the Alamo grounds. Sometimes, in the spring, I walk around there at lunchtime on my way to a restaurant.”
Bess studied his hard face as he smiled back at Crystal, and she wished that he’d smile at her like that. But it wasn’t good to live in a dreamworld, she told herself, and finished her breakfast.
The Alamo Plaza was located near the historic Menger Hotel, and Bess was surprised by the immensity of its grounds, which included paved walkways and benches and tables as well as buildings, all dedicated to the preservation of the old mission’s history.
The second stone church of Mission San Antonio de Valero stood with ancient dignity, flanked by gates on either side, which led to the rest of the compound. Bess touched the scarred stone with fingers that trembled as she felt the bravery and torment of the 180-odd men who had died there one cold March day in 1836. Her eyes moved up and down it with quiet awe as she tried to imagine what it would have been like to face certain death at the hands of Santa Anna’s overwhelming Mexican forces.
“Six of the men who died here were Georgians, including Bowie, though some people say he was actually from Kentucky,” Jude told her, moving to her side.
She glanced up. “Really?”
“Some were from Ireland and England and Germany. Travis was from South Carolina, Crockett from Tennessee.” His own lean hand touched the surface of the building. “They left us quite a legacy. It takes a special kind of courage to face death in the way they faced it.”
“They were special men,” she murmured.
“And used to seeing death,” he added. “They lived in hard times, without any of the luxuries we take for granted today. They were veteran fighters for the most part.”
“I’ve read several books about the siege,” she mentioned. “Most of them disagree on how many men died here,” she added.
“There were eyewitness accounts by those who survived it,” he reminded her. “They give the best chronology. Come here.”
He led her inside and pointed out the room where the powder and shot had been kept and where Jim Bowie had lain on his cot when the enemy broke in. Another large room was railed off with wrought iron, and flags were placed inside.
“Some of that graffiti on the wall is very old,” he explained, while she tried to decipher the aged scribbling.
There were paintings on the wall depicting the two-hour battle when Mexican troops had overrun the walls, and weapons under glass cases, along with other memorabilia. The stone floor, he added, was a later addition. The floor of the Alamo had been dirt at the time of the actual battle.
She stood by the rear exit and shivered, looking up
at the ceiling, listening silently to the echo as a tour guide outlined the days of the siege and the final battle.
“Cold?” Jude asked gently.
She shook her head. “It’s just…” She looked at him helplessly. “I’ve read about the Alamo, you know, but actually being here…it’s very different. It’s more than pages in a book now. I feel strange.”
He slid an arm around her and drew her close against his side. “They knew what they were doing,” he said, glancing around. “And why they were doing it. It was what happened here, and at Goliad, that united Texans into the force that won victory with Sam Houston at San Jacinto. And that led to Texas independence and statehood. All because a handful of men wouldn’t raise a white flag.” He glanced down at her. “Even the women had spirit.”
She looked up at him and smiled slowly, softly. Her dark eyes searched his pale green ones. “Did they?”
His breath came quickly. His jaw tautened. “Bess—”
“There you are,” Crystal interrupted. “Come on, you two. Let’s go see the souvenirs.”
There was a huge live oak outside the Alamo, its limbs held aloft with chains, just in front of the ruins of the Long Barracks, where the last stand had been made. Jude still had his arm around Bess and she pressed closer unconsciously as she stared at the darkened doorways.
“I don’t want to go in there,” she said quietly.
“Me, neither,” Katy said firmly. “Let’s go see the squirrel, please.”
Crystal only shrugged. “I think I’d rather go to the museum. Have they got turquoise in the museum shop? I love turquoise.”
She led the way, and Bess didn’t argue about going there first. She was in heaven so close to Jude, and he didn’t seem in the least anxious to let her go, either.
But once they were inside, there was so much to see that the two of them became separated. Bess wandered around looking at the manuscripts and coins and historical portraits and guns displayed in the building, while Crystal and Katy hung around the gemstones and souvenirs.
Crystal talked Jude into buying her a ridiculously expensive turquoise bracelet. Katy he bought a “coon-skin” cap.
“What do you want, Mrs. Langston?” he asked Bess, his eyes twinkling, and she realized suddenly that he was happy, and that she hadn’t seen him that way before.
Her lips parted, and she tried to think. What would she like if she had only one tiny memento of their time together? Something…
“I’d like…I’d like a ring,” she said.
His face brightened, and his eyes glimmered down at her. “A ring?”
“A gemstone one.”
He led her over to the counter and let her look. She picked out a silver band with inlaid turquoise which, when the saleslady took it out of the glass case, fit her ring finger exactly. She put her simple gold wedding band on after it and stared at it lovingly.
Jude paid for it—it wasn’t a tenth as expensive as Crystal’s—with a curious frown.
“Is that all you want?” he asked, as Crystal and Bess went out the door toward the wishing well in the courtyard.
“Yes,” she said, staring at the new ring. “Thank you,
Jude.”
“You could have had a silver wedding band,” he said. “I…didn’t think to ask you.”
“It didn’t matter,” she said quietly. “I like this ring. It’s simple, but it has a grace and dignity that I don’t associate with diamonds.”
“You’re a strange lady.”
“What does that make you?” she asked, glancing up. “You married me.”
“Yes,” he said absently, watching her. “I married you.”
“But not out of choice.” She dropped her eyes.
“About the marriage, Bess…” he began slowly.
“Don’t bother,” she said quickly. “We’ve been over it and over it, and nothing ever changes. We only argue.”
“We might not, if you’d meet me halfway. You might run toward me for a change, instead of from me.”
“It’s safer running from you,” she said sharply, glaring up at him. “It hurts less!”
His face paled and he looked bitter. “I realize I haven’t been particularly kind to you. In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m trying damned hard not to hurt you these days, but you’re determined not to make it easy for me.”
She gaped at him. “Are you trying? I wouldn’t call hanging around Crystal’s neck trying very damned hard!”
“Are you jealous? Answer me this time.”
She turned away. “I am not. And if I were, I’d die before I’d let you know it. I don’t give away troop movements to the enemy, Mr. Langston,” she added, glaring back at him.
“Am I the enemy these days?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
He sighed heavily. “I try not to think anymore, Bess.”
Katy came running back toward them, her eyes aglow. “It’s the squirrel. Hurry, Bess, there’s a man feeding him nuts!”
The man was still feeding him nuts when Bess arrived, and the grizzled old squirrel was taking them right from his hand.
“Ain’t he a character?” the elderly man said, chuckling as the rodent took the nut from his fingers. “Sure is a hit with the tourists. They can’t get over how tame he is.”
“I wish I had my camera,” Bess said enthusiastically. “What a picture he’d make.”
Obviously another tourist felt the same way, because she moved forward with a 35-mm camera and clicked away.
Bess had thought that everyone would want to go home after their excursion, but they wound around through the downtown area, through La Villita with its arts and crafts, and on to the Paseo del Rio, the River Walk. They saw the Arneson River Theatre, with its seats carved into the bank, and the dozens of restaurants and pubs along the way where in the spring and summer tourists could sit outside and watch the river run. Bess sighed as she strolled alongside it, wishing that the weather were warm and she could sit and daydream by its banks. She was already getting tired, feeling her pregnancy in a new way.
Jude caught her arm. “Want to rest a few minutes?” he asked gently.
She looked up, surprised by his courtesy. “Yes, I would,” she confessed.
He smiled at her. “Just a few more feet and up the steps.”
He led them into a restaurant overlooking the river, the same one in which they’d once argued so fiercely. They were seated and handed long, impressive menus by a courteous waiter. Bess was feeling strangely hungry, so she ordered prime rib.
Jude watched her, his eyes oddly protective, while Crystal, as usual, kept up an animated flow of conversation. She continued it all through the meal, but when they started back toward Joske’s, near which they had parked the car, it was Bess’s arm Jude took, not Crystal’s. It was as if he were afraid she might get away from him.
When they got back to the house Bess went immediately to her room and lay down. She felt tired to the bone, and a little nauseated. But most of all, she was confused. Confused as to what Jude wanted of her…what she wanted herself.
Chapter Ten
Bess fell asleep and when she awoke again it was dark outside. She rolled over onto her back, feeling oddly cool, and suddenly realized that she was wearing a nightgown. She blinked, staring at the ceiling. Had she taken the time to put it on?
The door opened while she was getting oriented again, and Jude came in with a tray.
“Awake at last,” he murmured, putting it down on the bedside table. “Aggie thought you needed feeding.”
She propped herself up against the pillows with a soft smile. “I’m starved,” she admitted. Shyly she glanced at him. “Did you put this on me?” she asked, picking at the soft white lacy gown.
“You were sound asleep in your jeans and shirt,” he remarked, studying her. “I thought you’d be more comfortable this way.”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Here,” he said, offering her a spoonful of Aggie’s special c
hicken and broccoli crepe.
She took it, savoring the creamy taste, and smiled. “Delicious!” She started to take the spoon from him, but he ignored her and kept on until he’d fed her every bite.
“Want some dessert?” he asked. “Aggie made an apple pie.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite!”
“You look as if you’ve gained a little weight,” he murmured as he put the plate aside. “Your jeans weren’t buttoned. Only zipped.”
She kept her nerve, but barely. “I’ve been eating more lately,” she lied. “Besides, what do you care if I gain weight? You never notice.”
His head turned back, and against his thick black lashes his eyes were unusually green. “I notice everything about you,” he said quietly. “Everything.”
“Do you?” She dropped her eyes to his shirt. “But you notice Crystal more.”
His lean hand moved to her cheek, turning her face toward his. “Crystal knows how to flirt, honey. You’ve never bothered to learn.”
“Meaning I should learn from her?” Her eyes glared accusingly at him. “What could she possibly teach me except how to be promiscuous?”
“You do hate her, don’t you?” he asked with narrowing eyes. “Is it really because she sleeps around? Or because you’re jealous of her success with men?”
“Damn you!”
His eyes searched hers. “How unladylike, Mrs. Langston,” he said with amusement. “You know, you’ve lost a lot of your starch since you’ve been here. You’re still a lady, but you’re more human.”
“Look who’s talking about being human,” she threw back. “What would you know about that?”
“Is that a question or a dare?” he murmured. He leaned down, resting his weight on his hands on either side of her. “I asked you once to sleep with me and you turned me down. Suppose I take the choice away from you, the way I did before?”
She felt herself panic. She was all too vulnerable to him. She still needed time to straighten out her feelings about their marriage.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He looked calculating, not angry or particularly disappointed. “If I promised to be very gentle?” he whispered, searching her eyes quietly. “Not to hurt?”