If I Can't Have You

by Patti Berg

  “Care to join us?” he asked, rising and pulling out a chair.

  She took the seat Trevor offered, stifling a yawn.

  “Would you care for some cocoa, Miss Howard? I told Mr. Montgomery it might aid his sleep. Perhaps it might do the same for you, too.”

  “Thank you, Elliott, but I’d rather you continue your tales about Mr. Montgomery. It’s all very interesting.”

  “Yes, it was very interesting. Trevor gave me wonderful pointers with the ladies. Treat every woman—tall, skinny, fat, ugly—as if they were rare and delicate pieces of china,” he told me.

  “He said that?” Adriana grinned at Trevor when she asked.

  “Yes, I believe those were his exact words. Of course, he had me hide behind one of the mummy cases in the Egyptian Room while he showed me the proper way to kiss. He said if I followed his example to a tee, I could have any woman I wanted.”

  “And who was he kissing?” Adriana asked.

  “A hatcheck girl from the Trocadero,” Elliott related.

  Trevor remembered full well the kiss, but not much at all about the young woman.

  Elliott cleared his throat and took a sip of his cocoa. “Her name was Lu, I believe.”

  Adriana stared at Trevor as if looking for confirmation, but he didn’t say a word. All of that had happened sixty years ago. It wouldn’t seem right to have knowledge of such an insignificant piece of trivia.

  “Did you try out the kiss on anyone?” Trevor asked, instead.

  “Of course I did. Mary Ellen, one of the maids here at Sparta, said it was the nicest kiss she’d ever had. I kissed her just the way Mr. Montgomery had shown me, and she didn’t resist. We were married a year later. Needless to say, I’ve always held Mr. Montgomery in the highest esteem, no matter what was said about him after his disappearance.”

  “He was a wonderful man,” Trevor said, winking at Adriana.

  “Yes, he was,” Elliott acknowledged. “And I consider it an honor having his son here with us. I do believe you’ve brought a glow to Miss Adriana’s cheeks, just as your father would have done.”

  “Thank you, Elliott. I’ll do my best to keep it there, although she has a tendency to push me away at times.”

  “My Mary Ellen pushed me away, too, but she was rather powerless once I kissed her.”

  “I’ll never be powerless,” Adriana murmured, “to a kiss or anything else.”

  She shoved away from the table. “Have you shown Mr. Montgomery his room yet, Elliott?”

  “No. I could do that now if you’d like.”

  “I’ll take him. You really should get some sleep. It’s well past two.”

  “I was enjoying my conversation with Mr. Montgomery. Perhaps we could have another discussion while you’re here.”

  “I’d like that,” Trevor said, shaking Elliott’s hand and holding on to it tightly for just a moment. “My father talked a lot about his times here at Sparta. It’s nice having a chance to re-create those days through your eyes.”

  “Miss Adriana can do that for you, too. She comes here often to watch the old family films. Maybe tomorrow, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, she’ll show you some.”

  Trevor turned to Adriana. “I’d like that.”

  “As for your request,” Elliott said, directing his words to Adriana, “if Mr. or Mrs. Rosenblum call, I’ll let them know that I haven’t seen you.”

  “Thank you, Elliott.”

  Adriana brushed a quick kiss across Elliott’s cheek, and Trevor followed her from the kitchen.

  They wound their way through a myriad of majestic and elegant rooms and up the grand marble staircase that Trevor remembered quite well. The last time he’d been here he could roam anywhere he liked. It seemed odd that so many strangers, people from all over the world, paid top dollar to tour the estate now.

  “This wing still belongs to me,” Adriana told him, when they passed through the ten-foot-tall carved oak double doors. “Elliott makes sure there are always fresh flowers in the vases and that the linens are—”

  “I don’t want to hear about flowers or linens,” Trevor interrupted, backing Adriana against the doors she’d just closed behind them.

  He traced his fingers across her jaw and lightly brushed his thumb over her lips. “We’re alone, Adriana. Just you and me.”

  “It’s late,” Adriana said, bracing her hands against his chest. “I’m tired.”

  “Why did you come down to the kitchen then? Why didn’t you just stay in bed?”

  “Elliott’s old. I didn’t want you keeping him up all night.”

  “That’s not the real reason, and you know it. Admit it, Adriana. You wanted to be near me.”

  Adriana laughed. “Your ego’s too big.”

  “And once again you’re making up excuses to stay away from me.”

  “I’m tired,” she repeated, skirting around him and marching across the sitting room, stopping at the first door off the hallway. “You can sleep here tonight.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “In another room.”

  ‘Tell me which one,” he urged, moving in close again and curling her hair behind her ear. “I might need to find you during the night.”

  She hesitated, then turned her gaze toward the double doors at the far end of the hall.

  “Harrison’s old room?” he asked, and slowly she nodded.

  “It’s awfully big for just one person.”

  “I suppose, but I’ve never found anyone I wanted to share it with.”

  “The perfect person could be standing fairly close.”

  Adriana looked away, but Trevor tilted her face toward him. “Kiss me, Adriana.”

  He could feel her sharp intake of breath, could almost hear the rapid beat of her heart as she looked into his eyes and raised up on tiptoes, leaning toward him as if in a daze. Her eyes fluttered closed. She was less than an inch away when her eyes opened and she jerked away.

  Trevor grinned at her sudden movement. “See, you do have control over your thoughts. No matter what I try persuading you to do, you’re going to keep on backing away from me until you’re good and ready to give in to what’s in your heart.”

  Trevor pushed through the guest-room door. “Just don’t make it too much longer. I’m only a man, Adriana. Not some idol up on a silver screen who acts according to a well-written script. I have feelings and needs. And right now I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

  Drawing in a long, deep breath, he closed the door, separating himself from Adriana. He pressed his forehead against the wood.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can wait, Adriana,” he whispered. “But, God knows, I will.”

  oOo

  Trevor could smell the blood. He could taste it and feel it covering his face, his palms, his arms and chest. He rubbed his hands on the sheets, over and over and over again, but the blood wouldn’t disappear.

  He had to get rid of it. He had to.

  He jerked up in bed, his eyes flashing open.

  There was no blood. No body. Only a magnificent room that felt empty and alone.

  Plowing his fingers through his hair, he tried to rid himself of the headache that came each night when he attempted to sleep. Somehow he had to make the nightmares stop. How could he possibly pull Adriana into his arms, make love to her, sleep with her, only to end up frightening her with his dreams?

  Lying back in the pillows, he massaged his temples, but the pain continued to pulse through his head. All he needed was one small drink. Just one, and the headache would go away.

  He’d seen a bottle when Elliott had taken cocoa from one of the cabinets. He’d told Adriana he could give it up, but that was easier said than done.

  Quietly he closed the door to the guest room and walked down the hallway lined with ancient tapestries. Crossbows and swords hung on the walls, and suits of armor stood guard in carved out alcoves.

  He walked down dozens of marble steps, wove through back rooms, and entered
the kitchen. It was six in the morning and Elliott and Juanita were nowhere in sight. It was too early to drink, but that didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was getting rid of the pain.

  He retrieved the bottle from the cabinet and took it outside to one of the terraces. Sitting on a granite bench, listening to the faint rustle of wind through the palms, he twisted off the cap and tilted the bottle of bourbon to his lips.

  Adriana didn’t have to know. It was just one small drink. Just one.

  But Adriana’s words rang through his head.

  After a while it’s one lie after another until you get to the point where you don’t even know what promises you’ve made, what things you said, or what you’ve done.

  He’d promised her he wouldn’t drink again, but he’d lied.

  One lie after another.

  He lowered his head and rested his brow against the top of the bottle.

  He didn’t need the whiskey. Not this time.

  He needed Adriana.

  She was the only intoxicant he wanted.

  Chapter 17

  Dim morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows running the entire length of the inside pool. Adriana walked across the cool tile floor, mounted the diving board, and gripped the edge with her toes. The water looked inviting, cool and refreshing, something to give her the energy that a sleepless night had robbed her of.

  Trevor had been on her mind since he’d closed his door on her. Trevor had been on her mind since he’d told her he needed her.

  Did he know how much she needed him? Did he have any idea how torn she was inside? Her heart cried out for him, yet her head kept screaming that everything about him was wrong.

  Listen to your heart, he’d told her.

  Maggie had said the same thing.

  She’d tried. God knows she’d tried. But those old fears were much too strong to fight.

  She dived into the water and ticked off laps as she swam back and forth, back and forth, attempting to drive away, her frustration.

  Instead, she heard her father’s voice and all those things he’d said to her over the years.

  “You killed your mother. She’d he alive if you hadn’t been born.” That was one of his favorite mantras when he was drunk.

  “Sex is the root of all evil,” he’d preached the first time he’d caught her with Robbie.

  “Being with a man is a sin.” She hadn’t cared back then. She didn’t know a thing about sex, she just knew that when Robbie kissed her she’d tingled inside.

  She should have listened to her father, though. If she had, he wouldn’t have gone into a rage, he wouldn’t have called her a whore, and he might still be alive.

  And he’d still hate her.

  Adriana swam to the side of the pool, rested her head on the tile ledge, and wept.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. “Please, believe me. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”

  She relaxed at the side of the pool for the longest time, then swam another ten laps as she pushed the ache to the back of her mind and heart.

  Climbing from the pool, she tugged at her bikini bottoms and started to walk out of the pool room.

  “Are you all right?”

  She jumped at the sound of Trevor’s voice, and in a dimly lit corner she saw him sitting in just a pair of swim trunks, his legs crossed casually, while his smoldering brown eyes gazed at her.

  “Have you been there long?” she asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep and thought a few laps would help. I’d just sat down when I saw you walk in.”

  “Did you listen to the things I said?”

  Trevor nodded. “I watched you swim. I listened to you cry. I heard you tell your father you were sorry. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he was a drunk, Adriana. I imagine if anyone should be sorry, it’s him, not you.”

  “I killed him.”

  Trevor came toward her.

  She knew she should back away, but she couldn’t. Not again.

  He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “He had a stroke,” he reminded her. “You had no control over that.”

  Adriana looked up and frowned. “How could you possibly know about that?”

  “Elliott told me. He told me that your father had accused Harrison of having sex with you, that your father had threatened to leave and take you with him.”

  “Harrison never touched me, not that way.”

  “Of course he didn’t. If your father had really believed that, if he’d been a good man, he would have taken you away. Instead, Harrison offered him money to keep you here, and he grabbed at it. A good and loving father wouldn’t have done that.”

  “He needed the money.”

  Trevor laughed darkly. “Your father was a drunk. He was hateful. What else did he do to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  He tenderly touched her chin. ‘Tell me, Adriana. Elliott said you refused to talk about your father with him or anyone else. You can’t keep it inside forever. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  How could she tell him? He’d laugh at her for believing her father’s words. No one in their right mind would have believed them, but he’d repeated the words so many times that they were firmly embedded in her mind.

  ‘Tell me.”

  Adriana took a deep breath and turned away, not wanting to look at Trevor as she spoke. “He told me that being with a man is sinful. That sex is—”

  Trevor’s laugh interrupted her. How could he mock her?

  He circled around her and tilted her chin so she’d look at him. “Kiss me, Adriana.”

  She shook her head in spite of the feelings she had inside, a yearning that said give in to anything he asks.

  “Kiss me,” he repeated.

  Adriana touched his chest, easing her fingers over his shoulders and wove them through his hair. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him, soft and gentle and warm, just as she’d done earlier on the beach, then backed away.

  “Did that feel sinful?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  Lightly, tenderly, he kissed her eyes, her nose, the hollow beneath her ear.

  Her muscles tensed when his fingers slid over her shoulders and caressed her back, stopping at the clasp of her swimsuit top.

  “Relax, Adriana. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to show you that there’s nothing sinful about making love.”

  He released the catch and drew the straps down her arms and, as if he knew how awkward she felt, he dropped the bra to the floor and pulled her into his arms.

  She could hear him draw in a deep breath as her breasts grazed his chest. Lowering his head, he kissed her gently, and just as gently he smoothed a hand along her side and cupped her breast.

  “Does this feel sinful, Adriana?”

  She shook her head as tremors raced through her chest, her stomach, the very center of her being.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, and when she nodded, he kissed her again, sweeping her up in his arms.

  What was she doing? she wondered again. She’d never been with a man. Not like this. She’d always stopped them after the first kiss, and they rarely came back again. But she’d let Trevor go far beyond a first kiss, and now she was frightened.

  She drew away from his kiss and saw the heat of passion burning in his eyes. She had to tell him. He had to know before they went too far.

  “What is it, Adriana?” he asked, his mind so completely in tune with her thoughts.

  Tell him the truth, she told herself. The worst that can happen is that he’ll go away and you can go back to your dreams—and an empty heart and empty arms. She took a deep breath, and prayed that he wouldn’t leave when she shared with him another one of her secrets.

  “I’ve never made love before.”

  His smile was just as warm and tender as his fingers, which waltzed over her skin. “Are you frightened?”

  “A little. Mostly that I won’t be able to please you.”

 
“You’ve pleased me from the first moment I saw you,” he whispered. “Right now, it’s me that wants to please you.”

  He kissed her again, just a short prelude to what was still to come.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid, Adriana. I don’t want you to worry about doing something right or something wrong.”

  He brushed a gentle kiss over her nose.

  “Remember how frightened you were going out on the dance floor?”

  She nodded. How could she forget even one moment of that night?

  “But you enjoyed it?”

  She nodded again.

  “Making love’s a lot like dancing,” he said, pulling her even closer into his arms. “Just hold on tight, Adriana, and let me lead the way.”

  He carried her across the tile, down the hallway, and into the room that had once been Harrison’s.

  He laid her in the center of the unmade bed and kissed her slow and easy. It felt so right, so very, very right.

  His thumbs lightly circled her nipples as he kissed a trail down to her breasts. His mouth and tongue lingered over each until a soft moan escaped her lips. Her skin tingled. Her heart pounded as he stretched over her and trailed even more warm, feathery kisses down to her stomach.

  She felt his fingers slip under the tiny bikini and a tremor of desire rippled through her heart, but that was nothing compared to the jolt of electricity that ripped through her when his tongue swept over her belly.

  Her first instinct was to push him away, but he captured her wrists in one hand. His hold wasn’t the least bit tight, and she didn’t bother to struggle. She was his prisoner, whether he held her tightly or not.

  He slid the bikini down her legs and her body trembled as his mouth followed the same path. He kissed her knees, her ankles, the arches of her feet.

  Her body had never tingled this way, had never been caught up in a torrent of emotions that ran the gamut from wicked to sweet. She wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to pull him into her so she would know what sin was truly like.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  He was ready, so very ready, but she needed more. She needed his tenderness, his patience, his touch, and he needed to know every inch of her, every hidden spot.