Unwilling Wife

by Renee Roszel

  She found her wits belatedly, and pressed away, panting, “Paul—don’t—please!”

  His eyes were animated with his conquest, and there was raw lust in his expression. “Don’t say that, Gina,” he pleaded. “You know you and I could really have something going if it weren’t for—you know. And he’ll be gone soon. You said so yourself.”

  “But—” she pressed at his chest “—but—he isn’t gone, Paul.”

  “Well, then let’s give him a reason to go,” he prompted, his eyes agleam with hunger. “You’re such a great lady, Gina. I want you in my life.”

  Gina cast her gaze over Paul’s shoulder, toward land. To her horror, she could see David standing high above them on the edge of the precipice. He looked remote, yet vulnerable, like some troubled man-god. In his coppery running shorts, he gave the illusion of nudity, but there was no illusion in the flawlessness that was embodied in his stance. His long legs were braced wide, exuding strength. The sun caressed his muscular torso, further enhancing the breadth of his shoulders. Though his arms were lowered to his sides, his hands were closed in tight fists. Every line of David’s body gave off the message that he was holding himself in tight control.

  Gina stared, and her heart gave an unhappy lurch. David was hurt—and furious.

  7

  “Paul—er—David’s watching,” Gina managed in an anguished whisper. “You’d better put me down.”

  Paul did a half turn and looked back over over his shoulder, his smile fading. “Oh, Lord,” he moaned. “Well, I guess I asked for this. He looks pretty mad. Is he likely to get violent?”

  Gina’s gaze skittered back up to where David was standing. He looked so angry. If it had been anyone else, she would be sure that very soon, blood would be shed. But not David. He simply didn’t have it in him. “Put me down, Paul,” Gina repeated.

  As soon as she’d slid back into the water, she began to trudge toward shore. But by the time she’d taken half a dozen steps, David had disappeared from view.

  “Where are you going?” Paul called.

  “To try to repair the damage.”

  “Why? Gina, isn’t this going to work for you? Now that he sees you mean what you’ve been telling him, won’t he leave?”

  Gina peered back at Paul, whose expression was concerned. She suggested sadly, “And I could hit him over the head with a tire iron, too. That would be just as painful.” She turned back toward shore and shouted so that he could hear: “I don’t want to destroy him. I just want to leave him.”

  “All separations cause pain,” Paul was protesting as he splashed through the surf to catch up with her. “David can’t get beyond this without a little pain. Face it.”

  Gina shook her head. “A little pain isn’t witnessing your wife making out with another man. That’s a lot of pain.”

  “Well, hasn’t he given you one hell of a lot of pain by coming out here and practically holding you hostage in your own home?”

  She turned to squint up at Paul, pausing in the shallow water. “I—I suppose, in a way, he has. But you must understand—” She cleared her throat, cutting off a quaver in her voice that would reveal how close she was to tears. “The first time I saw him, David came into the bookstore where I worked, told me that we needed to go out to dinner because we ought to get to know each other. When I asked him why, he said, ‘Because by next month at this time, you’ll be my wife.’”

  “The hell, you say,” Paul interjected with disbelief.

  “He said he was a man who got what he wanted. He—he’s always been that way.” Shaking her head sadly, she added, “That’s our whole problem.” She swallowed, remembering the uncharacteristic brashness of the handsome professor who’d entered her life and swept her so romantically into his. “Anyway—by the next month, we were married. He’d gotten his way—the first of many, many times.”

  “Why did you let him get away with it?” Paul groused.

  She shrugged helplessly. “At first, it seemed so wonderful—to be so important to someone that he spent all his time thinking of me, doing for me. And besides, with David—” she lowered her head “—and with me, I suppose, it was love at first sight. We have a crazy sort of chemistry together. Even though his need to be in control drives me crazy, I refuse to be cruel to him.”

  “Are you sure he’s not controlling you now, letting us see him up there?”

  “He was on his way to jog, Paul,” she retorted, not sure why she was defending him.

  Paul took her by the arm, forcing her to meet his gaze. He was scowling. “Are you sure you want to leave the man? You don’t sound very convinced of it, talking about him this way.”

  She avoided eye contact. “I’m sure I do. David insists on forcing me to fit a narrow little mold of his idea of the perfect wife, and I can’t do it.” Casting her gaze to heaven, she admitted, “I’ve quit trying and that’s hard for him to accept. He’s frustrated, mad…” With a sad, bitter laugh, she added, “Well, as mad as David gets—he went so far as to slam a door.”

  “Not exactly enough to call the cops with,” Paul remarked, his expression annoyed.

  “No. He’s so polite and reasonable, I’m sure to the outside world he looks affectionate, and I come off as a flaming bitch. It’s hard to point out anything blatant that he’s done. It’s just that I can’t be a person in my own right as David’s wife. It was partly my own fault,” she admitted, clenching her fists. “I let him mold me into his idea of what a professor’s wife ought to be—I led snobby charity drives, entertained boring people, smiled and obeyed until I’d had it up to my eyeballs.” Her lips quivered with emotion. “I can’t have children—my back injury prevents that—and I didn’t have any driving urge to have a career. So, being naive and in love, I let him dictate my every move, my every thought, until he’d shaped me into the woman he wanted.”

  Paul took her by both arms, vowing low, “Damn it, Gina. You’re exactly the woman I want, just as you are.”

  Wiping away a tear, she smiled at him, but it was a pitying smile. He saw it for what it was and reluctantly released her.

  “Paul, I’m not ready for another man. I’m still married to David, and I haven’t figured out how to rid myself of the baggage that relationship has me dragging around.” She touched his cheek. “You’re a wonderful person. Give me time. Okay?”

  Paul’s pinched expression eased a little, and he managed a halfhearted smile, too. “Okay.” Motioning toward the lighthouse, he asked, “So, what do we do about Mr. Madder-than-Hell Manipulator?”

  She cast her eyes in that direction and mused, “Oh, he won’t get violent. But I think it would be better if you let me go up there alone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She laughed, but it was a melancholy sound without conviction. “I’m almost one-hundred-percent sure. But an hour ago I wouldn’t have thought you were going to kiss me, either.”

  This time it was Paul’s turn to laugh sadly. “An hour ago, neither did I. You were just so cute and helpless in the water…”

  Gina shook her head at him. “Men. Why do you think ‘cute and helpless’ is so darned appealing?”

  He gave her a sheepish look. “We’re all macho brutes, I guess.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she grumbled. With a wave she added, “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” he called. “How long do I have to stay out here?”

  “Until you see me again.”

  “What if you’re dead?”

  Reluctant laughter gurgled in her throat. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  When she entered the lighthouse, it was deathly still. There was no one to be seen but Lumper. He was asleep on David’s chair, oblivious to any catastrophe that might be in the making.

  She tried her voice, but her throat was so parched from nervousness that no sound would come. Swallowing, she tried again, “David?” It came out in a fearful squeak.

  “In here, Gina,” he called. The unexpected smoothness of his tone was as un
settling as thunderous rage would have been.

  She crept uncertainly into the bedroom. When she rounded the bed’s divider, David was sitting there, fully dressed, looking casually preppy—wire rimmed glasses and all—reading a book. He lifted his gaze when she appeared, his expression unreadable. “What can I do for you?”

  She stared. “Are you all right?”

  An eyebrow rose in question. “Why do you ask?”

  She winced inwardly at his cat-and-mouse game. Preparing to be shredded by his biting intellect, she forced herself to ask, “What are you reading?”

  He held up the book so that she could see that it was Dr. Bella Bakker’s ill-famed denunciation of the male of the species. At her confused expression, he explained, “I just wanted to see if you learned that from her book.”

  “That?” Gina asked, feeling the hair prickle at her nape. Here it comes.

  He inclined his head in the general direction of the beach. “That,” he repeated solemnly. “Or did you come up with it on your own?”

  “I—” Her legs too weak to hold her, she sank down to perch on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t come up with it at all. Paul—well, I choked and he said I looked so cute and helpless that he…” Her voice failed her, and she found herself unable to do more than chew the inside of her cheek—and wait.

  David merely watched her without speaking. But his nostrils flared, giving away his anger. When Gina could hardly bear the sizzling quiet any longer, he queried stonily, “He—what?”

  Nerves wound taut, she confessed, “Kissed me, damn it! He kissed me. You know it! I know it! Go ahead and punch me. I know you want to! I’d rather you get it over in one swift blow than sit there and cross-examine me to death!”

  With a cynical smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he asked, “What good would hitting you do?”

  She hugged herself, feeling chilled more from his tone than the dampness of her bathing suit. “I—I don’t know. Sometimes I think you’re not even human, David. You’re so controlled.”

  “Would you feel better if I hit you?”

  “Don’t be tedious,” she cried, exasperated. “Men! You’re all the same. You like your women cute and helpless and manageable and—and when we’re not, you try to make us feel guilty about it!”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she shouted defensively. “And another thing! You’d be happy if we spent our lives flat on our backs. You—Paul—all you lustful, self-centered men!”

  He tossed the book to the floor and stood, stalking toward her. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you, my lustful little siren. I’ve seen you flapping your lashes at Paul and sticking out your tongue invitingly. What the hell did you expect the man to do, slap your face?”

  “Why—I never—”

  His laughter was harsh. “Don’t deny it. You were playing one of us against the other and you know it. Just what did you want? A fistfight? A duel, perhaps? Do you need to know men will fight over you even though you’re turning a ghastly, aged thirty?”

  She blinked, unconsciously retreating from him by leaning back on the bed. “I had no such thing in mind, David. You’re twisting everything. You’re acting like it was my fault!”

  “Am I?”

  He was towering over her now, straddling her legs with his own. “Yes!” she protested. “And you’re wrong. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault—”

  “What do you want from me, Gina?” he asked suddenly, his question a sharp, incisive query. “Do you want me to suffer?”

  “No! I want you to leave!”

  Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh. Tossing the glasses to the bed, he avowed, “I’m not going without you.”

  “I’m not going back, David,” she declared in a hoarse whisper.

  He bent over her, laying a hand on either side of her, preventing any escape. Forced back flat on the bed now, she grew alarmed, knowing her chance at flight had been blocked. She was staring up at him, wide-eyed, fearful that he was going to strangle the life out of her; his features were so tense, so savage. Not knowing what to do, she grasped him by his tie and bluffed wildly, “David, get off of me. Don’t make me use force!”

  When she tugged on his tie and cried out her idle threat, there was a flash of surprise across his face. Then, so suddenly as to startle Gina badly, David’s features softened in a slow grin. An odd sort of challenge glittered in his eyes and he began to chuckle. “Physical violence, Gina?” he murmured in a thoroughly sexy drawl. “You frighten me.” Lowering himself atop her, he whispered near her ear, “I’m paralyzed with fright. Say you won’t hurt me.”

  “David…” she pleaded through a constricted breath. “You’re—crushing me.”

  “What? I can’t hear well when I’m paralyzed with fear,” he taunted, his lips brushing her cheek.

  “I—said—” She couldn’t help it. She found herself grinning against her will. “Okay, you’re a very funny man. Now get up or I really will have to hurt you.” She was struggling now, but only playfully. “You’re terrible.” She couldn’t contain a giggle. “David—honestly—I can’t breathe.”

  “I’m too terrified to move, Gina. I hate being threatened with violence. It’s so—vulgar.”

  “I’ll show you vulgar!” She laughed, feeling strangely giddy. His breath on her ear felt so sensual, and his lips, grazing the sensitive lobe, made her spine tingle with delight. “If you don’t get off me right now I’ll be forced to toss you to the ground and place you in a hammerlock. Remember I took that self-defense course last summer.”

  “I think I’m going to faint,” he said, his deep voice tinged with laughter.

  “Oh, honestly!” she cried, provoked but laughing. “All right, you asked for it.” With a mighty shove, she managed to roll him onto his side, toward the edge of the bed. What she didn’t anticipate was that he would grab her, compelling her to roll with him. For an instant, they teetered on the edge and then they fell to the floor, where Gina landed on top of him, straddling his hips.

  The trip down to the floor had been accompanied by a high-pitched wail. Gina had a feeling that the half laugh, half scream had emanated from her own lips, not David’s so-called petrified ones. Once on the floor, she found herself nose to nose with her contrary husband. He was grinning up at her, holding her tightly. Gina berated herself. She was enjoying this far too much for her own good.

  “You bully,” he accused softly. “Now that you’ve thrown me to the floor, what are you going to do with me?”

  She could feel his laughter all through her body. He was incorrigible, irresistible and thoroughly desirable! “David!” she retorted, her cheeks hot with indignation and an unwanted mixture of feelings that included a desire to kiss him—the bum! “I’m going to tweak your nose!” she warned, looking as stern as she could manage. “You hate it when I tweak your nose.”

  “Getting kinky, are we?” he chided. “Tweak away, honey, but beware of what I tweak in return.”

  She took his dare and reached up to grab his nose, but before she could, he caught her wrist. A full-fledged wrestling match ensued, filling the room with playful squeals and full-bodied laughter.

  When they became aware that they were no longer alone in the room, Gina had David half out of his shirt, and his tie was stuffed partway down the bodice of her bathing suit.

  Paul cleared his throat and was backing out of the room he’d just burst into, when Gina jumped up. Straightening herself, she blanched to realize that David’s tie dangled incriminatingly from between her breasts.

  “Good grief, Gina,” Paul sputtered, “I heard your screams. I—I guess I thought you needed—help….” He swallowed, his face beet-red with embarrassment.

  David sat up and leaned back against the bed, his eyes glittering with amusement at her expense. Drawing up a knee, he casually began to button his shirt as he asked, “Do you need any help, Gina?”

  She could only shake her head, humiliation he
ating the skin of her face. “If you guys will excuse me, I think I’ll go into the bathroom and stay there until I die.”

  Fighting a grin, David asked, “Could I have my tie back?”

  She shot him a murderous look, yanked the tie from its intimate captivity and tossed it at him.

  Adjusting it about his neck, he offered, “I’ll send you in a little leek-and-spinach soup from time to time.”

  “That ought to finish me off,” she mumbled, slinking miserably away.

  When the door to the bathroom clattered shut, the men eyed each other for a long, silent moment. All the humor vanished from David’s expression, his lustrous silver eyes going leaden.

  The crimson color of Paul’s face didn’t diminish, but his anxiety-riddled frown deepened. “Well, Baron,” he began haltingly, “I suppose you want to punch me.” Swallowing hard, he groused, “Okay, man, I’ll fight you for her.”

  David pursed his lips. His eyes, now cool and distant, raked Paul’s stocky body and worried face. After a palpable moment, when David decided the younger man might have a stroke if he didn’t say something, he asked, “Which would you prefer, Page, pistols at fifty paces—or, perhaps, tuna-and-bean salad in tomato shells?”

  Paul had opened his mouth, but no words came when David’s question sank in. He stood there, his lips gaping in shock.

  “Well?” David prodded, his tone sardonic.

  Paul’s lips opened in a weak smile. “Uh—salad—I guess. Thanks, man.”

  “Salad, it is,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. Standing, he arched his spine and stretched his shoulders. “You can scoop out the tomato pulp.”

  Paul nodded dumbly, still looking perplexed. “Uh—sure. No problem.”

  As David headed toward the bedroom door, Paul halted him with a tentative hand on his arm. “Look, Baron, I want to apologize for what I did. I hope Gina told you it wasn’t her fault. It was entirely my idea.”

  David turned to face the younger man. “I know that.” His voice grew ominously quiet as he added, “Paul, I’m going to be frank with you. As God is my witness, I was hard-pressed not to…” He paused, flexing his fists in agitation for a moment before he regained his composure. Cocking his head toward the kitchen, he finished quietly, “Let’s get lunch.”