Whispers of My Skin

by Susana Mohel

  “No one is going to take my father’s place, not your husband or anyone else.” Certainly not a snake like Oscar.

  “But what are people going to say? The guests, what will they think?”

  Here we go again. I couldn’t care less what her stupid guests think.

  “Mom, surely our dreadful engagement dinner was entertainment enough for all your friends, so hopefully they won’t even bother to show up.”

  The only people needed at this wedding are Joel and me, plus the judge and a couple of witnesses.

  But I’m suddenly overcome with nerves.

  I’m dizzy, short of breath and nauseous.

  The world fades around me as I start to lose consciousness.

  My vision fades into two black pin holes.

  In the distance, I hear my mother calling my name.

  Someone catches me as I fall, and I silently thank them for averting an embarrassing face plant.

  But then… what is that God awful smell?

  “Get that away from me!” I splutter, trying to avert my head.

  “Do you feel better now?” Mom asks. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

  No. No doctor required. I know what he’s going to say, no point wasting money on a home visit.

  “Darlin’, if you feel sick, let’s just cancel the wedding. I think it’d be for the best anyhow,” Mom pleads.

  “Cancel? No, Mom, don’t even think about it,” I protest vehemently while taking several deep breaths to calm myself.

  The clock is ticking and I’ve run out of options.

  “Tara, my dear, I understand that you don’t want Joel to know, but you can’t conceal this forever. He’s going to find out at some point.”

  Trust me, I’m fully aware of that fact.

  I place one hand on my belly, with the other I beckon my mother to help me up, noticing that she’s gone as white as a sheet. Could she actually be concerned about me for once, rather than caught up in own selfish little world? She’s aware of my condition, but still blissfully unaware of the true motive for my hasty marriage. And that’s exactly how I want it to stay.

  How many people am I lying to? How good an actress have I become?

  My mother hands me a glass of water. I’ve barely taken a couple of sips before Camille enters the room to announce that Joel has arrived, and that the judge who will perform the ceremony is waiting for us.

  “Mom, go downstairs, please,” I instruct her. “Tell them I just need a few more minutes.”

  “Tara, are you really sure you want to go ahead?” She sighs when I nod. “I really wish your father were here. He’d know how to deal with all this.” She shakes her head then kisses my forehead, before leaving me alone with my muddled thoughts.

  When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Get on with it, girl.

  This is what I tell myself as I take the small bouquet of flowers from my dresser, inhaling their sweet fragrance as I clutch them to me, taking a final deep breath before leaving the safe haven of my mother’s guest room. Walking down the stairs, through the house, and out into the garden, it feels as though I’m descending into purgatory, about to pay for all my mistakes.

  But when the violin strikes the first note of the nuptial march, and Joel slowly turns to look at me, all my fears and worries fade away. He smiles, our eyes lock, and all I want is to be with him. I close the short distance between us, and as I stand by him in front of the altar, his hand reaches for mine, comforting and calming me. No matter what’s happened, the magnetic charge between us is still there, orbiting my world around his.

  “You look beautiful,” Joel whispers. I’m too choked up to speak, yet my skin sparks at his touch.

  The judge begins speaking, his words practiced and rehearsed—we’re just another couple, another wedding to him.

  But for us, the rest of the world has disappeared. There is only Joel, and there is only me. No one else exists in our shrouded sphere.

  When the moment comes for us to exchange rings, my hands are trembling so much that I can hardly put the ring on his finger.

  And when it’s his turn Joel has a surprise for me.

  “I never had a chance to give you an engagement ring,” he whispers, placing a beautiful cushion cut, solitaire diamond ring on my finger, as well as the plain band we agreed on. I gasp and grin up at him like an idiot.

  As agreed, the ceremony is kept to just the bare minimum, no long speeches or forced sentiment, so in just a few short minutes the judge is declaring us husband and wife—Mr. and Mrs. Joel Sadger—and proclaiming in the time-honored manner that the groom may kiss the bride.

  As Joel leans down to lightly brush his lips against mine, a jolt of electricity surges through me. The deed is done, I’ve signed myself over to this man, and despite all my misgivings, a shiver of delicious anticipation runs through me thinking of how he’s going to make good on his claim.

  Joel places my hand through his arm and leads me back down the short aisle. We walk past my mom, stepdad, my sister Camille and a few other people that I barely notice, although I do spot Connor Fisher, the man who greeted me when I turned up at the Dale Ranch looking for Joel. I’ve since found out they’ve worked together for quite a few years, and seem pretty close.

  We head to the reception area, where Connor comes over and introduces the redhead by his side. This, it transpires, is Cassandra, the name I’ve heard mentioned a couple of times, and I instantly don’t like or trust her. Maybe it’s the way she keeps smiling at Joel while totally blanking me, or the fact that she keeps touching him and putting her hand on his arm, but I really don’t take to Cassandra, not one bit. And for the record, it’s not jealously, it’s that I consider her disrespectful to be acting this way with my husband on our wedding day. In the eyes of the law and everyone else out there, he’s taken. I’m his wife, not you, so hands off, bitch.

  Thankfully, Joel seems as keen as I am to cut short this circus of a wedding.

  “Go and grab your things. We’re leaving,” my new husband whispers in my ear commandingly, once he deems we’ve done our duty in mingling with our guests sufficiently. The unmistakable gleam in his eye has my lady parts nearly combusting spontaneously, so I obediently head to the bedroom to hastily collect the few possessions I left there.

  “You’ve hit rock bottom, you know.” I startle at my stepfather’s words as he enters the room.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand, ignoring his poisonous barb.

  He’s carrying two glasses of champagne, but I pointedly ignore the one he holds out to me.

  “Can’t a man share a toast with his most beloved stepdaughter before she leaves?” Oscar asks disingenuously.

  A sarcastic laugh escapes my throat.

  “Oh, come on!” I snort. “Forgive me, stepfather dearest, if I struggle to believe the sincerity of any toast you’d make.”

  “You’ve ruined yourself by becoming nothing better than a whore, Tara,” he pronounces, dropping his pretense of civility. “And now, not only will you lose the ranch, but also whatever dignity you had left. I can’t believe you actually went ahead with this charade and married that worthless cowboy.”

  “I really don’t care what you think, Oscar. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m of age, so I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to marry whomever I choose, and most certainly not yours,” I growl.

  I’m done. All I want is to get away from this evil man who’s hell-bent on ruining my wedding day with his poisonous words.

  But Oscar’s not done.

  “So, tell me, Tara, if as you say, you could marry whomever you chose, why pick the worst possible contender? Even a stupid girl like you could’ve snared herself a wealthy man, one who wasn’t too fussy just as long as you opened your legs for him. If you were going to whore yourself anyway, you should’ve at least ensured you were gaining a comfortable lifestyle as part of the deal.”

  He wants to get nasty, fine. Two can play that game. Bring it on.

 
; “What does it matter to you who I marry?” I reply furiously. “Worried there’ll be nobody left to provide for you? Is that it? Wanted me to get a rich husband to continue funding your parasitic lifestyle?”

  “Your husband is nothing but an uneducated cowboy. He’ll never amount to anything, all he’ll do is drag you down into the gutter with him,” he sneers.

  “Joel is much more of a man than you’ll ever be. I’m proud of the fact that he’s not afraid of getting his hands dirty, and that he knows the meaning of hard work.”

  “Hard manual labor you mean? He’s no better than a pack mule, yet you seriously believe that’s something to be proud of?” Oscars retorts.

  Why am I wasting my time with this asshole? He’s not my father, and none of this is any of his concern.

  “You know what?” I yell, not caring if anyone hears. “Yes, I am proud.”

  “Poor Tara, you married a donkey,” he mocks.

  “What if I did?” I shout back. “So I married a donkey—that’s my problem, not yours.”

  Our slanging match is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed by Joel’s looming presence entering the room.

  His amber eyes are icy cold as they bore into me, and I suddenly wish the floor would open up and swallow me.

  ღ

  It’s clear from Joel’s murderous expression that he overheard the conversation I just had with my stepfather and would love nothing better than to kill someone right now—most likely me.

  Oscar beats a hasty retreat, fleeing the room like the coward he is, leaving me to deal with Joel.

  “Get changed while I put the bags in the car. Don’t take long. We need to get going.” Joel’s abrupt manner signals the end of the romantic mood we shared just a few moments earlier.

  “Joel, what you heard...” I start to explain, but he just raises his hand to silence me, scoops up my luggage and leaves the room before I can attempt to put things right. Guess I can forget any foolish notions I might have had about a romantic wedding night, being carried over the threshold in my wedding gown… Well, what did I expect? Time to forget such foolish notions.

  I sigh as I carefully pack away my beautiful dress, quickly changing into a more practical simple ivory dress, although I don’t change out of my new wedding lingerie, my excuse being there isn’t enough time.

  When Joel returns, he doesn’t say a word, just grabs my hand, and drags me along as he strides through the house while I struggle to keep up.

  Outside, Joel’s truck is parked behind the house.

  There’s no one else around, no one to bid us farewell, no shower of petals or rice thrown by cheerful guests.

  Which only emphasizes that we aren’t a proper newlywed couple.

  Before he gets in the truck, Joel impatiently shrugs off his black suit jacket and tosses it in the back, then undoes the top button of his shirt, rips off his tie and throws that in the back too. Finally, he turns up the sleeves of his dress shirt, his metamorphosis from formal attire to casual complete.

  I stand and watch, surprised by how graceful his movements are, considering how powerfully built he is. He ignores the way I’m staring at him, as if I’ve suddenly become invisible.

  “Get in,” he instructs, holding my door open for me.

  I barely have time to settle in my seat before he’s jumped in the driver’s side, started the car and accelerated away from the house with tires spinning.

  As we drive away from my old life, I struggle to get my head straight.

  I’m Joel’s wife.

  He wants a proper marriage, not a sham.

  That’s what he’s insisted all along.

  Yet now he doesn’t seem interested, and won’t even look at me.

  I should be relieved, but I’m not.

  I’m disappointed.

  Why does his rejection hurt so much?

  My head is pounding and I don’t feel well.

  Hardly surprising considering the stress of the day, my nerves, the fights.

  My condition doesn’t help either.

  The motion of the truck speeding along soothes and lulls me, making me drowsy and sleepy.

  Suddenly, as I gaze out of the window, I realize we’re not heading downtown.

  “Where are we going?” I sit up and ask, shaking off my lethargy.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Joel states brusquely, not even looking at me.

  “But this is not the way to the hotel. Do you want me to look it up on the GPS?” I suggest, trying to be helpful.

  “No need. We’re not going to the hotel,” he answers flatly.

  “But what about the room my mother booked for us?”

  “Didn’t see any point in wasting good money,” he informs me. “So I made other plans. Now go back to sleep.”

  His stern, unforgiving tone brooks no further argument.

  Clearly, he has no wish to converse with me.

  Silence it is then.

  I turn my back on him to face the window instead.

  Resting my forehead against the cool glass, I gaze at the passing scenery. The traffic gradually thins as we head out of town and into the countryside, leaving behind the houses, offices, and shops. Then I smile to myself as understanding dawns. This is a very familiar route, in fact, I know it like the back of my hand.

  Now that I know where we’re headed, I relax a little.

  Lack of sleep over the last few days catches up with me, my eyelids droop and I finally succumb to the Land of Nod.

  I stir when I realize we’ve come to a stop. It’s dark and I’ve lost track of time, but I immediately sense that we’re here.

  We’ve arrived.

  We’re home.

  As I struggle to wake, strong arms pick me up and carry me out of the car, and I discover how wonderful it feels to be held securely in Joel’s arms, safe and protected.

  “Hmm, Redlands. So nice to be back home,” I murmur contentedly as I snuggle deeper into his arms. “If only we could go back in time and return the ranch to its former glory.”

  “Guess we’ll just have to give it our best shot, won’t we?” Joel replies in an unexpectedly tender tone. Has he snapped out of his bad mood? But would it be a good thing if he has? He’s far harder to resist when he’s being nice. Irresistible, in fact.

  “Wait here,” he says, sitting me down on the wooden chair by the front door. It’s been here since my grandmother’s time, but it’s hard and uncompromising. A bit like she was, by all accounts.

  He strides back to the pickup, returning with our suitcases.

  “Let me help,” I offer, rising to my feet, stretching and yawning to wake myself up.

  “I’ve got this,” he replies, as he opens the front door and carries the bags in.

  We enter the house in darkness but find our way around the familiar surroundings to put some lights on, lending the place a warm and welcoming glow.

  This is home, a place where I can relax and be myself.

  But I can’t forget that this isn’t just my home anymore. It’s our home. There are other facts I mustn’t forget either.

  Joel is not only my husband. He’s Redlands’ new manager. And effectively mine.

  Redlands is the whole purpose we got married, not for any kind of romantic reason.

  He’s here to take control. Of everything. Of my entire life.

  And that’s what I wanted, isn’t it? That’s why I went and found him.

  “Erm…shouldn’t we talk… before…?” I ask hesitantly when we reach the foot of the staircase leading up to the bedrooms.

  “What is there to talk about?” Joel quirks his eyebrow as he stares down at me…

  “About us, our marriage,” I murmur awkwardly. “What we want, our expectations.” And what you overheard today.

  “What we want? You sure you really want to learn about the ‘expectations’ of a man like me?” he scoffs.

  “Of course,” I whisper in a trembling voice.

  In the blink of an eye, I’m for
ced down onto the stairs, caged in by Joel’s strong arms. He kisses me passionately, savagely, forcing my mouth open as he snakes his tongue between my lips. He doesn’t give me time to think, or even breathe, but I don’t care. I’m powerless to resist. Why would I want to, anyway? I’ve never felt so alive. I whimper as his lips work their way down my neck, while his hands seek the edge of my dress. As his fingers run over the thin layers of my silk and lace wedding lingerie, my skin aches to surrender to him.

  Right now, right here in the darkness, on the stairs of our house.

  Joel falls to his knees in front of me and slides down my lace panties, then kisses his way up the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. As he reaches my most intimate parts, and starts using his tongue and mouth to create the most intense feelings I’ve ever experienced, I can only close my eyes and let myself be carried away, driven by ecstasy, flying higher and higher. Then he takes things up another notch by slipping one finger inside me, then another… But each time I’m about to tip over the edge into my climax, Joel pulls back, and eventually it dawns on me that he has me exactly where he wants me. He’s exacting his revenge by controlling my pleasure. But maybe this is just his idea of extended foreplay—after all, we’ve not even made it upstairs yet.

  “Let’s continue this in the bedroom,” I suggest breathlessly when he finally pauses for a second.

  “Why would you think we need to move?”

  “Well, it’s our wedding night, so I assumed... I thought…” I falter.

  “Let me clarify something for you, Tara. You asked about expectations, correct?”

  “Well, yes ...” I murmur.

  “Since you accepted that you married an animal—a donkey, wasn’t it—then you should also accept that rutting animals have no need for niceties like beds.”

  My jaw drops at Joel’s shocking words, and I fervently wish I could explain why I said those stupid things, but I can see he’s in no mood to listen.

  “So, my darlin’ wife, you better get used to being married to an animal. And since that’s what you’re expecting, I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations—wouldn’t want to disappoint. But in future I suggest you be more careful what you wish for, knowing you might just get it.”