If Ever I Loved You

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Gina was entranced. It was the most luxurious bedroom she'd ever seen. She felt like Alice in Wonderland. "Oh Peter," she breathed, "it's so—so right! I've never seen anything so elegant."

  He lowered his head and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you like it. I had it decorated for you."

  "For me?" She felt her resistance weakening. It would be sheer heaven to share this room with Peter, to lie curled in his arms at night and listen to the surf pounding against the shore. To waken in the morning to sunlight streaming through the glass and breakfast for two on the deck.

  She mentally shook herself and pulled abruptly away from him. "Peter," she said hotly. "Don't you ever give up? Did you honestly believe that if you couldn't seduce me with sex you could buy me with all this?"

  She swept her arms to indicate not only the room but the whole house. "You really believe you can get anything you want with money, don't you?"

  He looked surprised by her sudden outburst and his voice was cool when he responded. "I know I can, but with you I shouldn't have to. You're my wife, I'm entitled to have you in my bed and I've about reached the end of my patience with this outraged virgin act of yours."

  Gina gasped and he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her as anger replaced the surprise on his face. "You're driving me out of my mind. You touch me, caress me, allow me enticing liberties and then act offended when I want more. You respond to my lovemaking until I'm half crazy with need, then pull away and insist that I stop. Stop! Just turn it off like a light switch! My God, Gina, don't you know what that does to a man?"

  His fingers dug into her flesh until she cried out with pain, but he was too enraged now to hear her. He jerked her against him and held her with one arm around her waist while his other hand gripped the back of her head so she couldn't move it as his mouth swooped down and took hers prisoner. Gone was the patient gentleness; it had been replaced by a much more violent emotion, out of control and dangerous.

  Gina struggled ineffectually as his mouth ground into hers, lustful and hurting. For the first time she was afraid of Peter. His hold on her was bruising and her breath came in short painful sobs as she tried desperately to move her head away from the pressure that was causing her teeth to rip the soft flesh on the underside of her lips.

  When he finally lifted his head she drew breath into her lungs in shuddering gulps. He looked at her with a stunned expression, as though he had just realized that he'd been hurting her. She seized the moment to push him hard, and as she did, his hold loosened and she wrenched herself out of his grasp. She stood facing him, panting with exertion and fear, and her voice was loud and tinged with hysteria as she said, "You're never to blame for anything, are you? You won't leave me alone. You seduce me with your expert lovemaking and when I respond it's my fault. I've told you in every way I know how that I don't want your kisses and embraces but you continue to force them on me and then accuse me of being a tease. Now you've decided to play rough because I've had the audacity to refuse to become your legal prostitute!"

  She turned and rushed from the room. When Peter called her name she started to run, but she'd forgotten about the sharp turn at the top of the stairway and was going too fast to maneuver it successfully. Her foot slipped and she plunged, screaming with surprise and terror, down the long flight of wide, carpeted stairs!

  It seemed to Gina that it took forever for her tortured body to tumble from one step to another to another… like a time warp where all movement is slowed. She heard someone shouting, and a scream that could have been coming from her, although she wasn't conscious of making a sound except for the thump, thump, thump as she fell further and further…

  Then as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Pain wracked every inch of her but she was finally still. She was vaguely aware of footsteps and voices coming from all directions, and when she forced her eyes to open she saw Peter kneeling beside her, his face white and stricken. She could see his lips moving but there was so much confusion that she couldn't understand what he was saying. She closed her eyes again because it was too much of an effort to keep them open.

  Later, whether seconds, minutes or hours she couldn't tell, she felt herself floating. She moved her head against something solid and it fitted into the hollow of a shoulder, Peter's shoulder. He was carrying her back up the stairs. Then slowly, carefully, he lowered her onto a cloud, soft and smooth and fragrant, and she snuggled gratefully into it and blotted out the pain and the noise.

  "Gina! Gina, open your eyes and look at me!" The command was sharp and insistent and she huddled deeper into the pillow trying to shut it out. She ached everywhere and all she wanted was the luxury of oblivion.

  "Gina!" Now a hand was shaking her gentry. Whoever it was wasn't going to give up, and she struggled out of the fuzzy darkness and opened her eyes. She was lying on a bed and a man was sitting beside her, a stranger with sandy hair thinning on top and a solemn expression.

  "Who—who are you," she whispered through dry lips.

  The man looked relieved and smiled. "I'm Dr. Bowmer. Can you tell me who you are?"

  "Virginia Lea Brown," she confessed slowly.

  "Good," said the doctor. "Now tell me what day today is."

  She looked at him with disbelief. "Did you wake me just to ask me that?" she grumbled then answered, "It's Tuesday."

  "Right!" The doctor beamed, as pleased as if she had recited Einstein's theory of relativity backward. "Now just one more question. What's your husband's name?"

  "I don't have a husband."

  Dr. Bowmer frowned. "Then can you tell me who you were with just before you fell?"

  "Fell?" For a minute she didn't know what he was talking about, then it all came back. "Oh, you mean Peter. Well yes, I guess you could say that Peter is my husband. His name is Peter Van Housen but you must know that. I assume he brought you here."

  She didn't feel like answering his stupid questions and wished he'd leave and let her sleep.

  He seemed inordinately happy with her last answer and took her wrist between his thumb and fingers. "That's a girl," he said happily. "You'll be okay. You've got a sprained ankle and some nasty bruises but I doubt that you have a concussion, although you'll probably have a king-size headache for a day or two. You're a lucky young woman, you know."

  Gina grimaced. "Your definition of luck is obscene, doctor," she groaned.

  He chuckled. "You'll feel better tomorrow." He picked up a hypodermic syringe from the bedside table and adjusted it. "I'll give you an injection to dull the pain and help you sleep. Have Peter bring you in to the hospital at Fort Bragg tomorrow and we'll take some X-rays but I'm sure nothing's broken. You'll have to stay off that foot for a while."

  She felt the prick of the needle and a few minutes later she was asleep.

  When she woke again it was dark except for the light of the lull moon that stole softly into the room through the glass wall. She was sore all over but the pain seemed concentrated in her right foot and her head. Her gaze wandered around and she recognized her whereabouts as Peter's bedroom, but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten there. Her memory was hazy after that first terrifying sensation of falling.

  She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the throbbing in her head, but when she shifted to find a more comfortable position needles of agony shot up her leg from the ankle to the knee and she uttered a sharp cry that ended in a moan. A rustle from the other end of the room alerted her to the fact that she was not alone, and it was Peter's voice that spoke as he hurried toward the bed. "Gina, darling, what's the matter?"

  He loomed above her, a shadowy figure that she had trouble focusing her eyes on until he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the wide bed beside her. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then pressed it against his cheek and held it there. "Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

  "Yes," she said. "My ankle… and my head."

  He put his fingers on her forehead and stroked gently. "The doctor bandaged your ankle, it should feel bette
r tomorrow, but he left some pills to make you more comfortable."

  He reached over and flipped a switch that lit a dim nightlight in the base of the crystal lamp which stood on the table by the bed. It cast a soft glow that illuminated without hurting her eyes. She was astonished to find that she was wearing a man's navy blue silk pajama coat and nothing else.

  She looked at Peter and was troubled by what she saw. He looked almost as bad as she felt. His hair, usually so carefully groomed, was tousled, his clothes were rumpled and his eyes were red-rimmed and haunted. His skin was a pasty gray and he looked even sicker than he had earlier in the day.

  She reached out her hand and touched his lips with her fingers. He kissed them and she moved upward to gently stroke the purple circles under his eyes. He flinched, almost as though she had struck him, and captured her hand in his as he muttered thickly, "Gina, oh God, how can you be so sweet after what I did to you?"

  Her brow wrinkled in thought as she tried to remember. "Did to me?" she said. "What do you mean?"

  He looked at her for a moment, then squeezed her hand and laid it on her chest. "Never mind," he said as he picked up a small prescription jar from the table. "We'll talk tomorrow."

  He shook a couple of pills from the jar and poured ice water from a covered pitcher into a glass and added a flexible straw. "Here," he said and handed her the tablets. "Take these. No need to sit up, just sip water through this."

  He held the glass down and guided the straw to her mouth while she swallowed the pills, then set it back on the tray with the pitcher and turned off the night light leaving the room in darkness once more.

  He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Go back to sleep, I'll be right here beside you."

  He sat there holding her hand until she was no longer aware of him.

  The next time Gina woke it was daylight, a gray foggy daylight but her watch, which had miraculously escaped the fall unbroken, told her it was mid-morning. She moved cautiously and discovered she could do so with reasonable ease, all except for her right ankle. It had to be maneuvered carefully.

  She rolled over and was startled to see Peter lying in the bed beside her; his chest above the covering sheet was bare. He was on his side facing her, his eyes closed and his body sprawled in a relaxed position, his face peaceful in sleep. His blond hair spilled over his brow and his long thick brown lashes lay against the dark hollows under his eyes.

  A warm tenderness swept through her. He looked so different when he slept. There was no trace of the hard driving businessman or the cynical lover who looked on seduction as a game. This Peter was boyish, trusting, defenseless. He had chosen to spend the night here with her knowing that by letting down his guard he was putting himself at her mercy. If she should decide to extract revenge for his behavior yesterday she could make life miserable for him.

  She reached out and very softly cupped his cheek with her hand. It was smooth against her palm and she remembered that he had shaved late the day before. With her thumb she stroked the side of his neck and his jaw as her fingertips caressed one closed eyelid.

  It didn't stay closed long but opened to uncover sea-blue eyes that looked directly into her deep violet ones. He didn't blink or smile and his voice was husky as he said, "For seven years I've dreamed of waking up to find you in bed beside me."

  He moved closer and raised up so he could kiss her. His lips on hers were warm and gentle as his arm slid under her neck, careful not to jar her head. She returned his kiss and let her hands wander over his nude shoulders. His muscles rippled under her touch and she marveled that a man as slender as Peter could be so strong.

  He lifted his head to look at her and she caught her breath at the torment she saw on his face. "Gina," he said hoarsely, then swallowed and started again. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry."

  He buried his face in her shoulder and her arms slid around him. She knew he was blaming himself for her fall and she hurried to reassure him. "It wasn't your fault, Peter, it was an accident."

  He moved away from her and propped himself up with his elbow. "Don't delude yourself, Gina," he said harshly. "If I hadn't lost control and scared you half to death you wouldn't have run away from me in such a panic and stumbled on that turn. When I heard you scream and saw you lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs I…"

  He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, but his grim features mirrored his silent battle not to give way to the emotions that were tearing at him. Gina put her arms up and pulled him back down to her, cradling his head between her soft white breasts. He was lying fully against her now and she was relieved to feel the crisp silk of his pajama bottoms. She wasn't sure she could have tempered her reaction if he'd been totally unclothed!

  She brushed the disheveled hair off his cheek. "Don't blame yourself, sweetheart, I wasn't afraid of you. I—I think I was afraid of myself."

  His mouth caressed her breast and his hand stroked her bare thigh. "You don't understand. I tricked you into coming up here. My dizziness wasn't that bad, I didn't need help to get upstairs. I wanted you to come with me and I didn't know how else to get you to do it."

  There was a smile in her voice as she said, "I know, or at least I suspected as much, but I went with you anyway. I'm not as naive as you give me credit for."

  Peter looked up at her, then rolled away and sat up cross-legged on the bed. "If that's true then why are you tormenting us this way?" he asked tersely. "If you want me, then why won't you stay with me? What do you hope to gain by holding out?"

  Gina knew he was right, she was being inconsistent. Telling herself she didn't want him to make love to her when her whole body screamed for his possession.

  She met his accusing gaze that stabbed through her with the thrust of a blade. "You're oversimplifying it," she said, wondering if she could make him understand. "I want more out of marriage than just good sex. I want a husband who will love me, trust me, cherish me, and in return I'll give him children and a lifetime of loving. I'll never get any of those things from you, Peter. You're too suspicious and willing to believe the worst of me. I could never trust you not to walk out on me again, and nobody does that to me twice."

  His eyes blazed with anger and he got off the bed and stood facing her. "The best way to assure my fidelity," he said in a voice like chipped ice, "is to never again give me as good a reason to walk out as you did last time."

  He picked up his clothes and stalked out of the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that day when Gina could sit up without her head pounding Peter drove her to the hospital. They chatted politely about nothing of consequence all the way to Fort Bragg and at the hospital, after a series of X-rays, Gina was told that there was nothing broken and that her ankle, although sore, would heal quickly if she stayed off it as much as possible.

  On the way back Gina insisted that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself at her apartment but Peter outvoted her. They stopped in Mendocino only long enough to pack some clothes for her and arrange for Peg Harvey to run the gallery for a few days, then returned to Peter's home. Gina knew she should have insisted on staying in Mendocino, but her head hurt, she couldn't put any weight on her ankle, and besides it was impossible to argue with Peter; he refused to listen.

  As they drove down the scenic highway Gina sank back wearily in the plush seat of the Jaguar and sighed. At least she wouldn't have to contend with the rest of Peter's family. Hans, Bertha, Lilly and the two children had left for San Francisco shortly after Peter stormed out of the bedroom that morning. She was sorry she hadn't had a chance to visit with Johnny and Sonja before they took off, but Peter had been adamant about not letting any of them disturb her.

  Only Lilly braved her brother's wrath and forced her way into the bedroom to say good-bye. She sat by the side of the bed and took Gina's hand as she said, "You gave us an awful scare, you know. You and Peter had better settle your differences soon before one or both of you are damaged beyond repair."

  She
leaned over and kissed Gina on the cheek. "Don't be too hard on my little brother, honey. He's stubborn, spoiled and has a temper like a buzz saw, but he loves you to distraction."

  Gina squeezed the hand that held hers. "Oh Lilly, if only that were true…"

  "It is true, Gina, believe me. I'm older than you and wiser than Peter, I can see what each of you is too proud to admit. Stay with him, you won't be sorry. Besides, I like having you for a sister-in-law."

  Gina was nearly asleep when they arrived at the house, and Peter carried her upstairs and told Mrs. Webster to put her to bed. She slept until Mrs. Webster brought her dinner tray. Later Peter came in to ask how she was feeling, select an assortment of clean clothes and tell her that he would be sleeping in the room down the hall. He showed her how to use the intercom system to call Mrs. Webster should she need help during the night then bent to brush his lips across hers in a hurried good night kiss and left.

  It was only then that Gina realized how much she'd been looking forward to sharing the oversized bed with him again. She grimaced with disgust. She so badly wanted to believe as Lilly did that he loved her but she knew she was only deluding herself. Peter had made it plain, not once but several times, that the love he once felt for her was dead and he had no intention of resurrecting it.

  Unfortunately she wasn't able to turn off her feelings for Peter that easily. She loved him, she'd always love him, she wasn't sure she could live without him, but she knew she couldn't live with him never knowing when he might fall in love with someone else and want out. The sooner she got away from him the better.

  The next morning after Mrs. Webster had brought her breakfast and helped her dress, Peter carried her downstairs to the library where she chose a current novel and stretched out on the couch to read while he worked in his office. He joined her for lunch on the deck and afterward settled her in the same lounge chair that they had both shared two days before. He tucked her in with a cashmere lap robe to protect her against the cool ocean breeze, gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek and returned to his office.