by Radclyffe
“Then why did you create them?”
“Because…” Rooke didn’t know how to explain, but Adrian’s gaze said she understood, so she tried. “Because that’s what I do.”
“Is it pleasurable?” Melinda asked.
Rooke flushed, remembering the stone heating under her hands, the fluid arch of a neck, the fullness of breasts flowing through her mind, stirring her flesh. Excitement burgeoned, making her groin tighten and throb. She met Melinda’s eyes and saw her arousal reflected in the flickering green-gold.
“More,” Melinda murmured, her voice thick as honey. “I can promise you the pleasure will be greater than you dreamed if you let me share your gift.”
The longer Rooke looked into Melinda’s eyes, the more uncomfortable she became. She sensed danger everywhere, but she couldn’t find a focal point for it. Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision, and she wanted to grab Adrian’s hand and leave this place. She wanted to be back in Adrian’s kitchen, in the soft glow of the lamplight, listening to Adrian talk about places she’d been and the things she wanted to write about. A fist squeezed tightly in the center of her chest and she almost groaned.
“I need to go now,” Rooke said so abruptly Melinda gave a small cry of disappointment. She lurched to her feet, casting wildly about for Adrian, unable to find her.
Adrian rose quickly and rested her palm against Rooke’s cheek. “Hey. It’s okay.” She brushed her fingers through the thick lock of hair that fell across Rooke’s forehead. Sweat misted along Rooke’s hairline. “We’ll go.”
“I’m sorry.” Rooke closed her eyes and tilted her head into Adrian’s palm as the tension eased and she could breathe freely again.
“We’re done here,” Adrian said to Melinda, who watched them with an avid expression. She gripped Rooke’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Good-bye for now,” Melinda whispered. “Thank you for bringing her to me.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” Adrian heard Melinda laughing softly as they left.
Didn’t you?
Chapter Fifteen
“I think you’d better drive until we get out of town,” Rooke said, handing Adrian her keys.
“Sure,” Adrian said uncertainly. “Why?”
Rooke didn’t reply, just pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. Adrian slid behind the wheel and started the engine. When she checked in the side-view mirror before pulling out onto the nearly empty Main Street, she noticed a sheriff’s patrol car parked on the opposite side, half a block down. She drove carefully along the snow-covered street and turned off Main onto River Road. After they’d gone a mile and there was no one behind them, she pulled over and looked at Rooke, who sat facing forward, her hands in the pockets of her jacket, her face still as granite.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” After a beat, Rooke said, “I can drive now.”
“We’re not that far from my house. Come over and have some lunch.”
“I do still need to check the tarp to make sure it hasn’t come loose.”
“That works out, then.” Adrian flicked the keys hanging from the ignition. Rooke was upset, but Adrian couldn’t tell if it was due to learning that her sculptures were no longer her secret or if Melinda’s obvious attentions bothered her. Or, something Adrian didn’t want to contemplate, maybe Rooke was brooding because Melinda’s attentions were welcome and Rooke wanted more, something Melinda seemed confident of delivering. And maybe, she growled inwardly, I can sit here and wonder for the rest of the afternoon and never know the answer. She’d always gone after what she wanted and what she wanted to know. Indecision was foreign to her and she rebelled against it now. “Why am I driving?”
“Because I don’t have a license.”
“Ah. And I guess the local authorities know that,” Adrian said, recalling the sheriff’s car.
“Everyone knows.”
The way she said it made Adrian’s heart hurt. No wonder Rooke had kept her work a secret in a town where she had no secrets. “You’ve been driving out to my place.”
“The sheriff has better things to do in the middle of a blizzard than haul me in because I’m driving without a license.”
“Haul you in?”
Rooke’s eyes were dark deep pools of anger and frustration. “I graduated from just getting ticketed a few years ago. The last time they stopped me, I spent half the night in jail.”
“They can’t do that!”
“They did. For some reason it took them a while to call my grandfather.”
Adrian reached across the space between them and took Rooke’s hand. “That’s not right. For God’s sake, you grew up here. You don’t need to read the street signs to know where you are or to recognize a stop sign. Aren’t there any lawyers in this town?”
“It’s not just because I can’t read,” Rooke said in a low, strained voice.
“What then?”
“I don’t have a license because I can’t pass the written test, but even if I could, I would have a problem getting a license. I have…” Rooke blew out a breath. “I have seizures.”
Adrian twined her fingers through Rooke’s, squeezing gently. “From the accident?”
Rooke nodded.
“How bad is it?” Adrian couldn’t bear the thought of Rooke being hurt, and the idea of her having a seizure at any time, but particularly while driving, terrified her.
“Not bad. I haven’t had one in a long time.” Rooke bowed her head and cradled Adrian’s hands between both of hers, brushing her thumb back and forth over Adrian’s knuckles.
“You take medication?” Adrian asked faintly, riveted by the sweep of Rooke’s thumb back and forth over her skin.
“Yes.”
Adrian barely heard her as the rhythmic caress sent teasing currents of pleasure into her breasts and lower. The longer it went on, the more her clitoris swelled and pulsed. Tendrils of excitement twined through her pelvis and along her spine. She’d never been so sensitive before, even in the midst of making love. The arousal was so intense she wanted it to go on forever, and needed it to stop immediately before she moaned aloud and humiliated herself. When her thighs tensed and her pelvis clenched, she was on the verge of screaming from the pressure to climax. Carefully, not wanting Rooke to know just how close to the edge she was, she eased her hand free of Rooke’s hot grasp and clutched the steering wheel. Beside her, Rooke was breathing hard, looking almost dazed.
“I’d better drive us home,” Adrian said, her throat tight.
Rooke didn’t answer, and out of the corner of her eye, Adrian saw her hand ball into a fist on her thigh. It wasn’t until she put the truck in gear and started cautiously down the rutted, snow-covered road that she realized while Rooke had been touching her, all she’d felt was Rooke. Here and now and overwhelmingly potent. She hadn’t sought to shield against her, wasn’t certain she could have if she tried. She seemed to have no ability to keep Rooke at a distance. She never allowed herself to be so vulnerable. How had she let this happen?
*
“You want this, don’t you?” Melinda murmured, leading the fresh-faced porter into a dim alcove on the third floor of the hotel. Absorbing the intoxicating desire radiating from Rooke and Adrian had inflamed her, and the urge to feed the raging hunger had come over her so intensely, so violently, she had to satisfy it now. She couldn’t wait for Becky to come on duty tonight, and she couldn’t satisfy the need herself. No amount of masturbation would dull this craving. She craved another’s passion. The young woman pushing a room service cart had stared at her appreciatively as she’d exited the elevator, and when Melinda slowed and smiled back, the young woman had been eager to talk. It hadn’t taken long to convince her to take a detour before returning downstairs to the kitchen. An encounter with such an innocent would likely do little more than blunt her appetite, but she would have to be content with that for now.
“Tell me,” Melinda said, pulling open the buttons on her jacket with tremb
ling fingers. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“Oh yes,” the young woman gasped, dipping her hands inside the black lace cups. “I want it.”
Melinda leaned back against the dark wood paneling and closed her eyes while her nameless lover groped and sucked her breasts in a frenzy. In her mind, the mouth at her breast was Rooke’s and the hot, pulsing sex she fondled Adrian’s. The three undulated together, limbs entwined, mouths ravenous as they kissed and caressed and tormented one another. The cavernous need inside her stretched to infinity, an endless black void demanding to be filled. Her hips writhed beneath the relentless pressure and she tangled her fingers in Rooke’s thick hair, forcing her breast harder into Rooke’s mouth. She stroked Adrian faster, swirling her fingers over velvety skin while arousal ripped at her sanity.
“I’m getting really close,” a desperate voice cried. “Oh, unnh, my clit, it’s—”
Melinda forced her lover to her knees, lost in the swirling depths of Rooke’s dark eyes. “Drink me.”
A hot mouth instantly devoured her and her sex pumped wildly. The young woman whimpered, climaxing as she sucked Melinda voraciously. Melinda exalted as pleasure at last suffused her. Before her orgasm finished, her clitoris stiffened again, and she rode the tongue that incited her toward another climax.
“More,” she demanded, her world a conflagration. More. Again. Again. More.
She came and came again, and again, until the red haze and the raging ache receded. She pulled away, and her lover slumped back against the wall, drained—body and soul. After straightening her clothes, Melinda bent and fastened the young woman’s black trousers.
“Rest for a few minutes and then go back to work.” She smiled into the dazed blue eyes and caressed the flushed face. “You were an unexpected delight.”
Then she walked away. Once back in her room, she called the estate auctioneer to emphasize her definite desire to acquire the statue. When she intimated to him what she intended to bid, she was assured she would have no competition. She would have it, of course, but now she wanted something else even more. She wanted the fathomless passion of the sculptor.
*
By the time Adrian pulled into the driveway of her grandmother’s house, she’d gotten herself under control. Her physical reaction to Rooke was more than embarrassing, it was inexplicable. She’d had almost-anonymous sex on a few occasions when she’d known little more than a woman’s name and occupation before sharing a few desperate hours in a frantic attempt to obliterate images of death and inhumanity. Those encounters proved she was capable of a purely physical response to an attractive woman, but Rooke was much more than just a stranger in a strange land. She was a tender, sensitive, remarkable woman and Adrian had no intention of falling into bed with her, even if Rooke was interested. She didn’t want her hormones or pheromones or whatever was driving her libido these days to make her do something she’d regret.
Rooke had said there was a woman in her life, and whatever their relationship was, Adrian didn’t intend to get in the middle of it. Besides, she had a life that was already too complicated, and Rooke’s quiet, secluded existence was about to undergo major changes if Melinda had anything to do with it. No, now was not the time for anything more than friendship. She needed to take about ten steps back and a long cold shower, and maybe her good sense would return.
“Do you need me to hold the ladder while you go up on the roof?” Adrian asked as she parked.
“I should be okay.” Rooke opened her door, but didn’t get out. “You know, I can just check the tarp and leave. If you’re busy.”
Adrian knew she should take advantage of the opportunity and agree. A little distance would help her regain her perspective. But what would Rooke think if Adrian let her disappear, which was what she sensed Rooke wanted to do? Would she see Adrian as just like all the other people who weren’t really interested in knowing any more about her than what they assumed? Would Rooke believe she was like Ida Hancock, the grandmother who wouldn’t even acknowledge her? Just thinking about the rejection and disdain Rooke must have endured her whole life enraged her. She wouldn’t be another person who turned away from Rooke’s truth.
“I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Comfort food. Tell me you don’t like it,” Adrian said.
Rooke grinned fleetingly. “I’d rather not lie to you.”
“Good. I’d rather you didn’t either.” At the sight of Rooke’s smile, Adrian forgot all the reasons why distance would be a good thing. “Let me help you carry the ladder up to the house, at least.”
“All right. Then you have to let me do the dishes.”
Adrian laughed. “Deal.”
*
“Rooke,” Adrian said as she relaxed at the table with a cup of tea while Rooke washed and rinsed dishes. After Rooke had declared the roof sound, they’d had an enjoyable meal during which the subjects of Melinda and her interest in Rooke’s sculptures had not come up. Adrian told Rooke about some of the articles she’d written and answered Rooke’s many questions about the places she’d visited around the world. While Adrian took notes, Rooke had described the symbols common to cemeteries in the region. Their conversation had been easy and pleasurable. Now she had questions running through her mind she couldn’t silence.
“Hmm,” Rooke asked, stacking plates on a dishtowel.
“How do you think Bea Meriwether came to have your sculpture?”
Rooke paused in the midst of drying a cup, and then finished it and set it aside. She rinsed the last dish and wiped her hands on a blue terrycloth towel. She pulled out a chair next to Adrian and sat down.
“I think Pops gave it to my grandmother and she didn’t want it. She either gave it away or someone rescued it before she could destroy it.”
Adrian stifled her shock at the dispassionate tone of Rooke’s voice, as if she were completely used to being erased by her grandmother. As if that erasure didn’t matter. “Why do you think he gave it to her?”
“I don’t know.” Rooke absently ran her finger around the rim of Adrian’s empty teacup. “Maybe he was trying to mend the rift.”
“The rift?”
“It’s a long story.”
Adrian smiled into Rooke’s eyes. “I’d like to hear it if you want to tell me.”
Rooke searched Adrian’s face for a long time. “Why?”
“Because I want to know about you,” Adrian said immediately. “And before you ask me why, it’s because I think you’re interesting and remarkably talented and I’m from this place too. So we have a little bit of history in common.” She didn’t add you’re beautiful and sensual and so tender you break my heart.
“Okay.” Rooke pushed back in the chair and stretched her legs out, hooking her thumbs into her front pockets as she stared at the tops of her boots. “About fifty years ago my grandfather was in love with Ida Hancock, and she apparently let him believe it was mutual. They were high school sweethearts, I guess you would call it, but in secret. No one knew except some of Ida’s best friends.”
“Like my grandmother and Bea Meriwether,” Adrian said softly.
“And a couple of other daughters of the prominent families.”
“How do you know all this?”
Rooke smiled wryly. “When people think you’re…handicapped, they talk in front of you because they don’t think you’ll understand. Some of it I got in school, before my grandfather pulled me out. Some I—”
“Wait,” Adrian said, having trouble keeping up. “Your grandfather took you out of school?”
“Yes. When I was seven. They told him I was mentally challenged and couldn’t be in the same class as the other kids.”
Adrian murmured, “Oh my God. How could they not know what was wrong?”
Rooke shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t look too hard. Anyhow, I was homeschooled after that. When I was older, sometimes I’d hear customers talking about my grandfather or me. I pieced most of it together on my own. Dom filled in some blanks.”<
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“I’m sorry I interrupted. I’m sorry…never mind. Go ahead about your grandfather and Ida.” Adrian knew Rooke wouldn’t want her sympathy, but inside she was weeping for the child Rooke had been, and outraged for the adult.
“When it came time for my grandmother to have her coming-out ball and take her place in society, she wasn’t interested in a relationship with the son of the local cemetery caretaker any longer.”
“And they both married other people?” Adrian guessed.
“Yes.”
Adrian frowned. “But then…” Her eyes widened. “Their children are your parents?”
“My mother was Ida Hancock’s daughter. She and my father fell in love their last year in high school and she got pregnant. My grandmother disowned her.”
“Was your mother’s name Grace?” Adrian asked quietly.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I saw her name in the newspaper.”
Rooke looked away, her expression pained. “The accident.”
“Yes.”
“She was on her way back from my grandmother’s. One version I heard is that she brought me there to try to change my grandmother’s mind about the estrangement. I don’t think anyone really knows why she was there that day.” Rooke turned wounded eyes to Adrian. “One thing is clear, though. My grandmother sent her away. Into the storm.”
Adrian couldn’t bear her sadness. She leaned across the table and stroked Rooke’s cheek. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Rooke covered Adrian’s hand and held it to her face for an instant, then let go. “Do you believe in fate?”
“I think so,” Adrian said, remembering that Melinda had asked the same question. “I know we don’t always understand the reasons why things happen in the moment. I believe there are patterns and forces in the universe we can’t fully comprehend. Maybe that’s fate. Or destiny. Why?”
“I wonder sometimes if my mother and father weren’t destined to live the life that Pops and Ida should have had.” Rooke grimaced. “But if they were, fate sure wasn’t on their side.”