Bridal Trap

by Rena McKay

"Would you like me to talk to her and see if I could convince her to go?" Robyn suggested.

  Trev raised a dark eyebrow, and Robyn was unhappily reminded of a similar request he had once made to her. If only she had done what he asked, none of this would have happened. Mrs. Barrone would be safe and happy in Palm Springs. And Robyn herself wouldn't know the heartbreak of loving and being married to this man who didn't love her.

  "Shauna and I have discussed it. I don't think there's any point mentioning it to my grandmother any further. It only upsets her."

  Robyn had that unpleasant left-out feeling that she sometimes had when she and Trev and Shauna were all together and the two of them were laughing at some private joke. She stood up. "Well, since it appears everything is being discussed and decided without me, I won't bother you any more."

  "You're not around much," Trev pointed out. His eyes narrowed. "You seem more concerned about that damn shop than about Grandma."

  "That isn't true!" Robyn protested indignantly. "It's just that you and Shauna—I mean, I know she's a professional nurse, so her opinion is more valuable than mine, but—"

  "So, now that you're here, what is your opinion?" he inquired.

  Robyn sat down again. "Well, nothing specific," she said lamely. "It's just that I have the feeling that she feels she reached the big goal she was living for, to see you safely married. And now that that is accomplished she just—well, she isn't all that determined to live."

  "What do you suggest?"

  "Maybe another goal. Perhaps a trip she'd like to take or something," Robyn said hesitantly.

  "I'm afraid, if you ask the doctor, he'll say that's out of the question. But I can think of another goal that might be meaningful to her."

  "What is that?" Robyn asked with interest.

  He leaned forward. "We could give her a greatgrandchild to look forward to."

  Robyn stared at him, shocked and disbelieving. "Wh-what?" she faltered.

  "I said—"

  "I heard what you said! You can't be serious."

  His face was unsmiling, eyes intent. "I can assure you, I'm quite serious. In fact, I've been giving it some thought. It would take at least nine months—"

  "It usually does!"

  He ignored that. "It's the one thing I think she might feel is worth living for. Think about it."

  Think about it! Robyn stood up angrily. "No," she said. "I will not think about it. It's out of the question. This deception that involved just the two of us was perhaps justified for your grandmother's sake, but I will not involve an innocent child!"

  Robyn stormed out before he could say anything more. She drove to the shop, angry and disturbed, hardly aware of her surroundings. How could Trev even consider such a thing? It was unthinkable. And yet, even as Robyn raged at him in her thoughts, the idea held a certain wickedly tempting appeal that had nothing to do with benefiting Mrs. Barrone. A child would bind them together. As mother of his child, Trev might even love her…

  Then she chastised herself soundly for even momentarily considering such a thing. In spite of his serious demeanor, this surely was not something Trev was seriously considering. More likely he was merely amusing himself by shocking her, and he and Shauna would have a good laugh over it.

  Mrs. Barrone continued to weaken. Robyn hated to see the decline and yet she couldn't help thinking guiltily, as she had so many times before, that only Mrs. Barrone's death would release her from this painful situation. And then the realization hit her that she would never truly be free again. She would never be free of her love for Trev.

  That was something she would just have to learn to live with, she knew. Perhaps, once all this was over and Trev was far away, she could put all this behind her and begin to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. It appeared, from Mrs. Barrone's sinking condition, that Robyn probably would not have much longer to wait. The thought filled her with both sadness and guilty relief.

  And then, astonishingly, Mrs. Barrone's condition improved again. The major reason seemed to be a change in medication the doctor ordered. After days of lying listlessly in bed, she started moving around in the wheelchair again, fussing over her plants. Her appetite improved.

  Robyn was delighted, and yet somewhere far back in her mind was a sinking feeling of dismay. Her feelings were wildly confused and conflicting. She desperately wished she was not in love with Trev, and yet being in love filled her with a kind of wonder, an awareness of each day that she had never known before. She wanted to be married to him because she loved him, but she didn't want to be married to him because he didn't love her. She didn't want to be anywhere near him and yet away from him she was miserable. She hated the way she still trembled under his smouldering glances and yet it thrilled her that he looked at her that way. Though he mostly ignored her, Robyn could tell he was not totally indifferent to her. Sometimes, in fact, she had the odd feeling he paid attention to Shauna only to annoy her, even sometimes deliberately glancing her way to see if she was watching. And then she had to laugh wryly at herself. Now she really was grasping at straws! Trev couldn't care less what she thought or felt.

  More than once Robyn found herself wondering exactly what Trev's feelings toward Shauna were. Was he just amusing himself with her, "making the best of a bad situation" as he had once cold-bloodedly tried to do with Robyn? Or was there something deeper? Was he only waiting to be rid of Robyn so he could wed Shauna? And if that were so, why hadn't he simply married Shauna to begin with?

  Robyn thought she knew the answer to that last question. In spite of being an excellent, capable nurse, Shauna was a bit too flamboyant for Mrs. Barrone ever to approve of her as a wife. She had, for one thing, been married and divorced. Her former husband was a Hollywood cameraman, and she had any number of amusing, if slightly scandalous stories to tell about movie personalities. Her after-working-hours wardrobe was almost brazenly seductive.

  In short, she just did not fit Mrs. Barrone's image of a "nice, sensible young lady," as Trev had obviously been astute enough to realize.

  Sometimes Robyn guiltily wondered if she was really the nice, sensible girl Mrs. Barrone thought her to be. If she were really so sensible would she have come so close to making love with Trev that night? Would she let herself be aroused almost beyond control by a man she knew didn't love her? A sensible girl would never have let herself fall in love with Trev. And there was another thought that lingered tantalizingly in the back of Robyn's mind, a shocking thought that she was sure would horrify any really nice, sensible girl.

  She mused about that tantalizing thought as she worked at her shop, her clever fingers fashioning a pair of agate earrings or a shell bracelet. She thought about it when she accidentally bumped into Trev in the hallway and his hands touched her shoulders, steadying her, leaving an almost searing imprint. She thought about it as she lay alone in her bed at night, wondering what Trev was doing. The thought tantalized her, tempted her, and made her restless with yearning.

  Should she—could she do it?

  If she were certain Trev was in love with Shauna, Robyn knew she could not do it. If she were absolutely certain he had an intimate physical relationship with Shauna, even without undying love, she didn't think she could do it either.

  And yet there was just enough doubt in Robyn's mind about the real relationship between Trev and Shauna to keep her thinking her own shocking thought. She had the feeling there was an intimate relationship between them. Shauna, with her intimate glances and familiar touches, certainly gave that impression. And yet if there were anything going on, they were certainly discreet about it. Once, though ashamed of herself, Robyn had peeked out when she heard footsteps passing her room late at night. It was Trev going to his room. Alone. Of course he could have just come from Shauna's room, but with a book in his hand, Robyn somehow doubted it. Another time Robyn had come home at midafternoon from the gift shop, half expecting to catch Trev and Shauna in some afternoon dalliance while Mrs. Barrone napped. But Trev was working in his offic
e and Shauna closeted alone in her own room.

  Robyn decided and changed her mind half a dozen times. What she was considering was insane, totally unthinkable! And yet another part of her recklessly retorted, so what? She and Trev were legally married. Why not do as Trev had suggested and grab something for herself out of this "marriage trap"? Mrs. Barrone had lived far beyond any reasonable expectation and, from all appearances, might live a lot longer. Still Robyn knew she couldn't do it as cold-bloodedly as Trev suggested, couldn't do it except for one all-compelling reason. She loved him. If this were all she could ever have of him, why not take it? Why not grab what he offered before she was left with only regrets and empty arms?

  And yet, there just didn't seem to be any suitable opportunity. She couldn't just brazenly march into his room and throw herself at him! The time and place had to be right. Not that she was afraid she had hurt his feelings or damaged his ego that night. He was too arrogantly self-assured for that. But she had made her "no" emphatic.

  But the opportunity simply was not there. In the evening Mrs. Barrone expected either Robyn or Trev, or both of them, to spend some time with her. Any other time in the evenings that Trev and Robyn might have had alone, Shauna was invariably present. Almost as if she were a chaperone, Robyn thought in frustration, a chaperone who definitely had designs on the man herself.

  Then, suddenly, the opportunity arose. Aid came from an unexpected source. The Internal Revenue Service was auditing Shauna's tax returns for a couple of years back and she had to go down to San Francisco for a meeting with them. She left on a Tuesday, expecting to return sometime between Thursday and Friday evenings.

  Mrs. Barrone had to have some injections, which Robyn could not give, so Trev hired Mrs. Bundy to come back for a few days.

  The first night Shauna was gone Trev disappeared into his office immediately after dinner and stayed there. Robyn wondered if he was deliberately avoiding her.

  The following night Trev invited Dr. Helgeson to dinner. Mrs. Barrone was feeling well enough to have her dinner with them, the first time she had done so. Marie made a Beef Wellington and Dr. Helgeson brought a bottle of red wine. It was a marvelous evening with much laughter and congenial conversation. What made it even more pleasant for Robyn was that Shauna was not there to act as if she, not Robyn, were the one married to Trev.

  Mrs. Bundy tucked Mrs. Barrone into bed not too long after dinner, but Dr. Helgeson stayed fairly late. Afterward Robyn peeked in on Mrs. Barrone and heard the slow, steady sounds of her breathing. There was still a lamp on in the living room and she walked over to turn it out before going up the stairs to bed.

  She had just snapped the switch off when she realized Trev hadn't already gone up to bed as she had thought. He was stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine on the hearth beside him.

  "That's much better with the light off," he said approvingly. "There's a bit of wine left. Would you like a glass?"

  Robyn caught her breath, suddenly aware of the dim, romantic firelight, the setting that was almost identical to their wedding night. She should turn and run, she thought wildly, run for her life. She couldn't go through with this, mustn't go through with it!

  He turned to look up at her lazily. "Well?" he murmured. Was his voice mocking—or challenging? There was something in its husky murmur that set her heart pounding.

  "Yes, thank you. I'd like a glass," she said primly.

  She sat on the sofa, one leg tucked under her, while he went to a cabinet under the balcony and brought another glass. He drained the liquid, glowing red-gold in the firelight, into the glass and handed it to her. She expected him to sit down beside her and tensed herself for the giddy weakness that his nearness always aroused in her, but he went back to sit on the floor in front of the fire.

  "I think Grandma enjoyed coming to the dining room for dinner," he remarked casually.

  "Yes," Robyn agreed. "Though it might be too much for her on a regular basis."

  "Probably."

  He lapsed into silence. The firelight highlighting his dark hair turned his eyes into shadowed hollows, his skin to bronze. Motionless, broodingly, he stared into the dying coals. "Gift shop getting along all right?" he asked finally.

  Robyn jumped, startled by the unexpectedly prosaic question. Her own mind certainly had not been on the gift shop, she thought shakily, glad the dim light hid her flush of embarrassment. The fragile stem of the wine glass felt slippery under her damp hands.

  "It's fine, thank you. A chartered bus stopped last weekend and I made quite a few sales."

  "Your friend Larry still around?"

  Robyn hesitated, wondering uneasily why he should ask that. "He stopped by and left an order for another dozen of my mobiles."

  More silence. Robyn watched him from under discreetly half-lowered lids, puzzled. He seemed to be ignoring her, and yet some unseen vibration between them told her instinctively that his elaborate display of indifference was not real. But why the pretense? He had jumped at the opportunity to make love to her on their wedding night.

  But he was certainly making no jumps now. He started another idle conversation, something about a bad storm that was predicted to blow in within the next few days. As if to collaborate his words rain spattered against the big west windows and a gust of wind shrieked around the fireplace. She searched her mind for some way to subtly let him know that her feelings had changed since their wedding night fiasco.

  He stretched out prone on the floor again. Robyn's mouth went dry as she thought of that other night, his naked chest pressed against her own thundering heart, the feeling of his hands roaming unrestrainedly over her, her own shuddering reaction…

  He rolled over to face her, head supported on one hand. "Penny for your thoughts."

  He had said that the other night too. Robyn licked dry lips, suddenly embarrassed by what she had been thinking. But he couldn't read her mind, she thought shakily. He couldn't know what wild, not at all "nice, sensible girl" thoughts whirled through her mind.

  "Nothing," she said barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and a bit more loudly said, "I was just enjoying the fire and—and not thinking anything at all."

  "Weren't you?" The words were a mocking blend of accusation and challenge.

  Robyn took a gulp of wine to hide the blaze of color that she was afraid might be visible on her face even in the dim light. He couldn't know what she was thinking. He couldn't! And yet she had no doubt that he did know. His face, turned away from the fire, was all in shadows now. His lean figure was only a dark relaxed silhouette on the floor. And yet relaxed with the readiness of a predator ever poised to strike.

  One part of her wanted to run but another part recklessly demanded that she stay. Yes, yes—why cot? she thought wildly. She wanted this, wanted it as much as he did. She loved him. Even if he only wanted her, she loved him.

  She tensed, waiting for the touch of his hand that would melt her like a snowflake caught in the flame. But he didn't touch her.

  "You haven't answered my question," he said softly.

  Robyn stared at him, painfully aware of her own ragged breathing. He wasn't going to make any move toward her. He wanted her. She knew that. But this time she was going to have to come to him. He wasn't going to make it easy for her.

  She couldn't do it! She couldn't just—just brazenly seduce a man! Why was he humiliating her like this? She had made herself available, why didn't he take the initiative now?

  He wasn't going to do it. And neither could she, she thought helplessly. It just wasn't in her. She stood up on rubbery legs that she hoped would somehow carry her up the stairs.

  Unbelievingly, she felt her legs buckle beneath her, not in a fall, but as if some almost magnetic force were pulling her to the lush carpet. Trev rolled to a sitting position.

  "Did you hurt yourself?"

  "No, I—I just—" The words thickened around Robyn's dry tongue. Then with a boldness she found almost unrecognizable in herself
she added, "I just thought—I mean, you've had a hard day. Would you like me to rub your back?"

  Silence. Surprise? Scorn? It was the tactic he had used, she thought defiantly. Why shouldn't she use it too?

  Then slowly, ever so slowly, he started unbuttoning his shirt. He stripped it off, a bronzed god in the firelight. Robyn watched, mesmerized. Slowly he moved around to turn his back to her. She had to wipe the damp perspiration from her hands before she could reach up and rub her hands over that smoothly muscled back.

  She massaged the sinewy cords along his neck and shoulders, lightly kneaded the long muscles along either side of his spine. Then softly, hardly believing her own daring, she touched her lips lightly to the back of his neck.

  She felt his body go rigid, but he didn't turn to face her. His voice was strangely muffled when he spoke.

  "Why did you do that? Why are you acting like this?"

  Why? she thought wildly. Because I love you. Because it's all I can ever have of you and I'm desperate enough to settle for anything.

  But she couldn't say that, of course. What she was doing was bad enough without adding the agony of admitting she loved a man who did not love her.

  "Because I've decided you were right," she said. "We might as well get something for ourselves out of this marriage we're trapped in. We might as well make the best of the situation and—grab the fringe benefits."

  He swiveled around slowly to face her. She thought he was going to take her in his arms. A chunk of log flickered into flames and she saw the expression on his face. There was no mistaking the disgust and contempt.

  "I—I mean—" she faltered.

  "I know what you mean," he said harshly. He snatched up the discarded shirt and stalked across the carpeted floor and stairs. A moment later the slam of his bedroom door reverberated-through the house.

  Robyn stared after him, too astonished for a moment to move, then suddenly sickened. She had thrown herself at him and he had turned her down cold. He didn't want her. Shock and humiliation flooded over her like ice water.

  Was it because of Shauna? Was he in love with her? Or was it simply that his dislike and distaste for Robyn was so strong that he didn't want her even on a purely sexual basis? That look of utter, scathing contempt burned in her mind, her soul.