Desperate Desire

by Flora Kidd

  He stayed stiff and still in her embrace for only a moment. Then with a sound that was half groan, half sigh, he dropped his defences. Roughly his hands curved about her face and lifted it. She had a brief glimpse of his half-blind eyes, burning blue, his hard lips softening sensually, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding, and the white-heat of passion was flaming up again, melding them together.

  Somehow her coat was taken from her and tossed to the floor. Across the bed they fell together, still kissing mouth to mouth, greedily. Under Adam’s frantic fingers her dress came apart, and then his lips were searing the soft white swell of her breast and she was twisting and groaning in an agony of desire, her nails scratching his skin.

  Quick and fiery was their coming together, bom of their desperate desire, violent and yet triumphant. As from a great distance Lenore heard herself crying out, heard Adam’s gasps and groans. Everything swung around her crazily, they seemed to flow into each other, and fulfilment was a sweet, slow weakness and the only sound was the quick beating of their hearts in unison.

  Her mind was still spinning when he withdrew from her sharply, hurting her, as if in repudiation of what they had just enjoyed together. Missing his warmth and weight, aware that something was wrong, Lenore opened her eyes. Adam was sitting on the edge of the bed and his head was between his hands. She sat up, curling her legs beneath her, and touched his shoulder, lightly trailing her fingers over his warm slightly moist skin.

  ‘Adam, what’s wrong?’ she whispered.

  ‘You ought not to have come here,’ he muttered. ‘I told you to stay away from me. You ought not to have come. You must have guessed what would happen if you came here alone.’ There was a short tense silence, while Lenore stared at the proud leonine head that was turned away from her, at the broad shoulders, and tried to probe the enigma of him. Failing, she whispered,

  ‘I wanted it to happen. I’m glad it happened, and I want it to happen again. Tonight. Only . . .’ she paused as laughter shook her voice, ‘only perhaps a little more slowly next time,’ she continued softly. ‘Lente and pianissimo before moving into a crescendo that will take us to a wonderful, beautiful climax!’

  His hand dropped away from his head and he turned sharply towards her, frowning.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he rasped. ‘About making love,’ she murmured. ‘I came here to make love to you tonight before ... before you go away.’

  ‘Who told you I’m going away?’ he demanded. ‘Albert?’

  ‘No—Valerie Baker. She said you’d decided to have an operation to remove the pressure that’s causing your blindness. She said there’s only a sixty-forty chance of its being successful.’ Her voice began to shake with the intensity of her emotions. He was looking at her, right at her as if he could see her, and his face was set in hard cynical lines. Slowly she reached out a hand and laid it on his forearm. Golden hairs were silky beneath her fingers and the muscle tensed, but he didn’t shake her hand off. ‘Was . . . was Valerie right, Adam?’ she whispered.

  ‘She was right,’ he replied, his frown deepening. ‘Though why the hell she told you I can’t figure out.’

  ‘She told me because she wanted me to believe it would be my fault if... if you die when you’re having the operation. She said you’d only decided to go through with it because someone . . . and she had guessed it was me . . . had accused you of not being normal while you’re half blind,’ she said in a low shaken voice. ‘Oh, Adam, is it true? Did you tell her I’d said that to you?’

  ‘The bitch, the damned interfering bitch!’ he snarled, and covered her hand with his, long fingers gripping painfully. ‘Yes, I did tell her. We were having an argument and she . . . oh, hell, to understand you’d have to know about her and me. ...’ He broke off, swearing softly under his breath, half turning away from her.

  ‘Then tell me,’ Lenore urged quietly. ‘I ... I know she’s been your mistress.’

  His head jerked around. The slate blue eyes had widened incredulously.

  ‘She has?’ he asked mockingly. ‘This is news to me. When?’

  ‘When . . . when you returned to New York after assignments abroad. When she came here to live here with you before last Christmas,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘And you believed her. You dared to believe her!’ His voice purred threateningly as he leaned towards her, his hand still grasping hers where it lay on his arm, his bulky shoulders looming as he pushed her backwards against the pillows. ‘Once and once only, long ago, so long ago that I’ve forgotten it, when we were still students at college, I spent a night with Valerie.’ His lips drew back over his teeth. ‘It was a mistake,’ he hissed, ‘one which she’s made me regret time and time again. You see, she’s one of the possessive kind. I’d made love to her once and then had left her, and that she could never forgive, so ever since she’s turned up in my life and tried to take possession whenever she could. She thought she’d got me when I came here, half blind and nearly out of my mind with pain and frustration. She was going to be my helpmate, my guide through the semi-darkness that surrounded me, my guardian angel.’ His laugh was short and mirthless. ‘Anyone less suited to the part it would be hard to find! What she really wanted was to dominate me. She was also after the money I’d just inherited. It didn’t take me long to figure out what she was doing. She gave herself away by urging me not to have the operation when she heard about it. “Don’t have it, Adam, you might die. You don’t need to have it when you have me to help you. I’ll be your guide, your helper, if you’ll marry me”.’ His laugh crackled with unkind mockery. ‘Thank God Albert was here! He helped me to get rid of her, had her bags packed and ready at the door when I told her to get out. He drove her away in his truck too, out of my life—for ever, I hoped.’ His lips twitched with bitter humour. ‘I was wrong again.’

  ‘You didn’t know she’d got a job with the local public TV network then?’

  ‘No. I’d never have agreed to let them film the concert here if I’d known she’d be involved. I was furious when she turned up, so furious I lashed out at you, told you to stay away from me.’ He drew his hand across his throat. ‘I’d had it up to here with pushy interfering women!’

  ‘Oh. You . . . you think I’m pushy?’ Lenore’s eyes began to sparkle dangerously.

  ‘A bit,’ he taunted softly, leaning closer. ‘You wouldn’t be here now on my bed if you weren’t.’ Bending his head, he nibbled the lobe of her right ear tantalisingly.

  Her hands on his shoulders, she tried to hold him off.

  ‘If you think that of me . . . I’m not staying with you a minute longer,’ she gasped breathlessly. ‘Oh, please let me go, Adam. Please!’

  His mouth smothered her plea and at once her struggles to escape from him, because this kiss was different. It was sweet and reverent and she succumbed readily to its seduction, parting her lips and letting them quiver against his in a delicate mothlike response.

  Sliding off her so that he lay on his side, Adam turned her towards him, caressing her back with long strokes of his hands, and slowly, softly it began, the build-up of the exquisite sensations as they both explored tenderly the secret parts of each other’s body, worshipping with hands and lips and tongues.

  ‘I wish I could see you properly. I wish I could see you,’ Adam groaned when passion began to throb uncontrollably through both of them, surging through their loins.

  ‘You will one day,’ Lenore whispered breathlessly, framing his face and kissing his eyes.

  He didn’t say anything, but overwhelmed her suddenly, taking her possessively and coaxing her to rise with him to a swelling, glorious climax, and afterwards they lay silent for a while, at peace with each other, knowing they would always be a part of each other no matter what came between them in the future.

  And something would come between them to separate them. Soon. The thought crept unbidden into Lenore’s mind, chilling her.

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘Mmm?’ He sounded half asleep
. His head was resting against her shoulder, his arm was about her waist and one sinewy leg was sprawled across both of hers.

  ‘When . . . when did you decide to go for the operation?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Why do you want to know?’ His speech was slurred, indifferent. He sounded as if he didn’t want to talk.

  ‘Was it before or after I said what I did about . . . about you not being normal?’

  He was silent for a few moments. Then he moved away from her and rolled on to his back. Reaching out, he switched off the bedside lamp. The room was plunged into darkness which was only slightly relieved by faint moonlight.

  ‘Before,’ he said clearly and firmly. ‘My decision had nothing to do with anything you said and was the result of long and painful arguments with myself. I decided in the end that it’s my life and I’d rather die than live on, half blind, unable to do the things I want to do. That’s the chance I’m taking by having the operation. Dangerously is the only way I know how to live.’

  Lenore’s turn to be silent as she fought to contain the tears that sprang to her eyes.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said when she felt she was under control and was able to speak coolly. ‘I’m glad your decision had nothing to do with what I said. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if... if you died and it was my fault.’ Her voice broke on the last word.

  He moved immediately, looming over her, a dark shape in the darkness. His fingers trailed lightly across her cheeks, tracing the course of teardrops that had spilled. He came closer to her, the warmth and scents of his body were all around her making her head spin. His tongue licked the tears from her lashes and he spoke softly.

  ‘Lenore, you mustn’t weep for me. I’m not worth it.’

  ‘But you are, you are!’ she cried out, flinging her arms around his neck, trapping him against her.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what I’m like—really like, I mean,’ he said gruffly, rubbing his nose against her.

  ‘I’ve got a good idea,’ she retorted. ‘You’re rough and tough, cynical and hard—and chauvinistic into the bargain. You’re not at all the sort of man I like . . . but I love you just the same.’

  ‘Stop romanticising me,’ he growled.

  ‘And I don’t want you to die,’ she went on wildly as if he had never spoken.

  He stiffened, reared up and taking hold of her wrists pulled her hands away from his neck.

  ‘You’re not going to ask me not to have that operation just for your sake, I hope,’ he said sneeringly.

  ‘No, I’m not, but I don’t want you to die. I want you to live. When? When are you leaving to go to the hospital?’

  ‘Tomorrow—in the morning. Albert is going to drive me down to the clinic,’ Adam seemed to realise he was still holding her wrists. His grip tightened on them rather cruelly and twisting on to his back again he pulled her roughly down on top of him. ‘We haven’t much time left,’ he said huskily, ‘so how about you showing me how much you love me before I go?’

  The moon had set and dawn was paling the eastern sky before they slept, sinking into the sodden oblivion of satiation and exhaustion. So deeply did she descend into slumber, Lenore did not hear the rap of Albert Smith’s knuckles on the door of the bedroom or his calling of Adam’s name. Nor did she hear Adam answer. She was unaware of his stealthy movements as he rolled out of the bed and dressed. She did not feel either his kiss on her cheek, the tender touch of his fingers at her temple, and she did not hear the door open and close when he left the room.

  When she did open her eyes and saw the sunlight laying a path of yellow light across the floor she knew immediately where she was and what had happened, yet still she turned her head hopefully to where Adam had lain beside her, hoping to see the ruffled golden hair, the broad, lined brow, the wide-set slate blue eyes, the straight blunt-ended nose, the bitter-sweet curve of his mouth.

  But he had gone, and she couldn’t be sure she would ever see him again, for if he lived and regained his sight he would never come back to Northport and he would never look for her. He had made that very plain several times during the night, warning her in subtle ways.

  ‘No matter what happens, sweetheart, we’ve always had this together,’ he had whispered.

  Remembered rapture, that was all she would have of him, and nothing more. Closing her eyes, she let the memories of the night crowd into her mind, but they hurt too much, so she opened her eyes again quickly and flinging off the bedclothes, swung out of bed and began to dress. She must leave immediately, before Bertha arrived and found her in Adam’s bed.

  If she had accepted his proposal when he had made it they might have been married by now, she thought as she wandered down the driveway under the feathery branches of the sighing pines. They might have been married and she would have had the right to go with him to the hospital, to have waited there during the operation, to have been there when he had come round.

  But he wouldn’t have liked that, she realised now. He didn’t want to be possessed. Then why had he asked her to marry him? She had put the question to him in the night and he had answered evasively, she had thought,

  ‘I’ve told you why—I wasn’t behaving normally. Maybe I was testing you to find out how far you were prepared to go to get what you wanted. Maybe I suspected you were after my money like Valerie,’ he had taunted her.

  ‘Then you must have been very relieved when I refused,’ she had retorted tartly.

  ‘Oh, I was. Very,’ he had replied, mockery edging his voice, and had prevented her from retaliating by kissing her, and when he was kissing her she ceased to be reasonable and intelligent and became instead wild and wanton, a mass of tingling desire.

  Strong, masterful, in spite of his disability, Adam had gone, and yet he was still with her, filling her mind, leaving no room for anyone else, and while she stayed in Northport where they had first met it would always be like that. But she wasn’t going away. Not yet. She had to stay a little longer, at least until she knew whether he had survived the operation or not. She had to stay, because the Smiths were her only contact with him. Albert, as Adam’s only surviving next of kin, would be the first to be informed of the result of the operation.

  Lenore reached the end of Pickering Lane and turned into Main Street. High above the elm trees were in leaf, tufts of tender green waving lightly in the wind. The long shadows of the trunks slanted across the road and sunlight glinted on the windows of old houses. At the Inn the lilac bushes were in full bloom, delicate pale purple and creamy blossoms nodding, wafting their heady scent about.

  Going in by the back door, Lenore found Blythe there sitting with Josh Kyd at the table. They had been drinking coffee and were holding hands, but when they saw her they withdrew their hands from the table and looked a little shy and self-conscious. Josh stood up.

  ‘Guess it’s time I went back to work,’ he decided. He paused and gave Lenore a shy glance. ‘That was a good concert last night—I enjoyed it. I hope you’re going to stay on in Northport and play some more for us.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ said Lenore, surprised by the compliment. He’d never really spoken directly to her before and there had been times when she had felt he resented her presence in the Inn because she distracted Blythe’s attention away from him.

  ‘See you later,’ he added with a sidelong glance at Blythe, and strode to the door.

  When the door had closed behind him, Lenore looked at her sister. It seemed to her that Blythe looked beautiful that morning. Her hair shone like a blackbird’s wing, her dark eyes glowed with a mysterious light and her cheeks were delicately flushed.

  ‘Something’s happened,’ said Lenore. ‘Between you and Josh.’

  ‘Yes, it has.’ Blythe smiled dreamily. ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’

  ‘But what about. . . .’

  ‘He’s heard from his lawyer. He can get a divorce now on the grounds of desertion by his wife. For three years she’s refused to come and live here with him a
nd has made no attempt to see him. He came to tell me straight away and then asked me to marry him when the divorce is final.’

  ‘And you—what do you want? Do you want to marry him?’

  ‘Of course I do! I want to be married, to have children before I get much older and I want Josh to be their father. Oh, Lenore, I’m so happy! I never thought it would happen to me. I thought I’d always be single because I couldn’t marry Josh.’

  ‘And I’m happy too, for you,’ whispered Lenore, hugging her sister, the quick tears filling her eyes as her vulnerable emotions were touched.

  ‘Have you had any breakfast?’ asked Blythe when the hug was over.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then sit down and I’ll cook you some,’ said Blythe practically. She poured coffee from the pot into a mug. ‘Here, take this and go and sit down, and while I’m cooking tell me about Adam Jonson. Did you see him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I stayed the night with him,’ said Lenore flatly.

  Blythe gave her a worried sidelong glance, then turned her attention again to the eggs she was beating for an omelette.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she sighed.

  ‘It’s all right, Blythe. He’s gone, and the chances of my ever having anything to do with him any more are very remote.’ Lenore forced herself to speak quietly and coolly. ‘He’s having an operation to remove the pressure that’s making him blind. It’s one of those touchy jobs. He . . . he could die.’ Her voice faltered. She stopped and took a gulp of coffee. It scalded her throat.

  ‘And if he doesn’t die? If the operation is a success and he can see properly again?’ asked Blythe, maintaining her disapproving manner.

  ‘He’ll go back to being a news cameraman, I guess, and to living dangerously,’ replied Lenore tonelessly, looking out at the garden, pretending an indifference to what the future held for Adam that she didn’t feel. All the trees at the bottom of the garden were either in leaf or foaming with blossom now, the deep rich green of maples contrasting with the delicate silver-green of birches and the dark red of ornamental crab-apples. ‘Has the mail come yet?’ she asked casually, more to change the course of conversation than from any real interest.