Wonder and Wild Desire Page 13

  "I am tired of what you want." She could not move away from him as his hands came out and clamped about her wrists, pinning her arms at her sides. "Besides, I don't believe you are as indifferent to me as you pretend."

  "That's not true," she breathed frantically as she tossed her hair back to glare up at him. But his return look was relentless.

  "We'll see, Carrie," he said thickly, hauling her suddenly against him, his arms closing about her like two steel bands. There was nothing gentle about the way his mouth plundered hers and she thought wildly: He's drunk! He doesn't know what he is doing. Her heart thundered tumultuously in her ears as his mouth sought the hollow of her throat, lingering in a hot exploration before venturing lower. A weakness such as she had known only once before in her life swept through her, draining her of resistance and leaving in its place the leaping flames of a desire for physical satisfaction that crowded out all reason.

  In a final effort to stop him, she raised her hands to push feebly against his shoulders, but his mouth came back to hers with its undeniable demand, and her hands crawled, as if of their own free will, about his shoulders. She was vaguely aware of his hands sliding open the zipper down the skirt of her gown, then moving to unbutton the halter closing at the back of her neck. The gown slid to the floor, and Josh's hands on her skin sent shock waves through her.

  A soft moan escaped her, and Josh lifted his head momentarily to look into her eyes. "Have I proved to you that you are not indifferent to me?" he asked . huskily.

  "Josh," she sighed protestingly as his hands explored her thrusting breasts. "Desire is not enough for a good marriage."

  "Ah," he sighed, his lips moving softly against hers, "you admit that you desire me." His fingers stroked the taut tips of her breasts and he laughed deep in his throat. "But you can hardly deny it, can you?" His lips lingered tantalizingly at one corner of her mouth. "Desire may not be enough for a good marriage, but it is a wonderful place to start."

  "No—"

  "Yes." He laughed again, softly, and began to rid himself of his clothes, stopping frequently to kiss another vulnerable spot until, by the time he was totally undressed, her whole body was on fire with wanting him.

  He pushed her gently onto the bed and followed her down until his body covered hers. Carrie groaned and squirmed beneath him. She would despise herself in the morning, she knew. But her clamoring body made it impossible for her to think about that, and as her hands moved over the hard muscles of his body she let the last restraint slip away and gave herself completely to him. It was something of a shock to her to realize that she had wanted this ever since the last time. Somewhere beyond consciousness she had yearned for such a time as this.

  Chapter Eight

  It was a losing of her identity. Afterward, when Carrie came back to herself, she realized that Josh was sound asleep beside her. A resentment stronger than any she had yet known took possession of her. He had taken advantage of her fragile emotional state to degrade her further, and now the alcohol he had drunk had sent him to oblivion. He probably wouldn't even remember tomorrow what had happened—but she would.

  Feeling a renewed awareness of the futility of her situation, Carrie crept from the bed, put on a gown and robe, and with a blanket wrapped around her prepared to spend the remainder of the night in the big armchair in the corner of the room.

  It was a long time before she could sleep, and it wasn't the cramped quarters that made slumber impossible. It was the ceaseless round of thoughts that filled her brain. What had happened with Josh was final proof of a weakness in herself that she despised. How cleverly he could manipulate her, maneuver her into getting his way. The relentless drive of his will was staggering. More than that, the hold he seemed to have over her was frightening. The stark truth was that she had never managed to overcome his will in anything important, and she had for some time doubted that she was even capable of doing so.

  From the jumble of her thoughts a new idea surfaced. Was it possible that she could be falling in love with Josh? Shaken by the implications of the thought, she refused even to consider it. She could not love a man who dominated and scorned her; it would be the final humiliation.

  Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep from which she awoke repeatedly, jerking upright in her chair with a feeling of impending doom so strong that it required several moments for her to reorient herself and realize where she was. Just before dawn, upon snapping back to consciousness once more, she saw that Josh was no longer in her bed. She stumbled across the room and fell into bed, where she finally slept without waking for a few hours.

  She awoke to find pale winter sunlight falling through the windows, from which draperies and undercurtains had been drawn back. In most circumstances she would have felt cheered by the clarity of the day, but her head and limbs ached. Dragging a pillow around to support her back, she sat up with a groan and held her head in her hands. Abruptly Gracie Helmstrom's high-pitched voice called to her from the hallway.

  "Mrs. Revell, I've brought your breakfast up. May I come in?"

  "Come." The word rasped from a throat that was too dry.

  Gracie settled a tray across her knees. "It's after ten," she announced heartily. "I guess you and Mr. Josh were out very late last night. Didn't seem to faze him much, though. He left the house three hours ago."

  Carrie watched the girl remove a white covering cloth from an omelet, sausage links, blueberry muffins, juice, and coffee. As the smell of the food reached her nostrils, her stomach churned violently. Carrie laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

  "It was Aunt Betty's idea to bring your breakfast up." There was uncertainty in Grade's voice now. "She wanted to make it special, so she baked a batch of muffins. Nobody can make blueberry muffins like Aunt Betty."

  "I'm sure the breakfast is delicious," Carrie replied, her eyes still closed. "I'm feeling a little queasy this morning. Leave the food and I'll eat what I can—and thank Betty for me."

  Gracie continued to hover beside the bed. "You want some aspirin, or a doctor?"

  Carrie lifted her head and opened her eyes. "No, I'll be fine."

  Gracie left and Carrie poured coffee from the small pot with a hand that shook. What was wrong with her? Although she didn't know how a hangover felt, she was certain she wasn't having one now. The two glasses of wine she'd drunk at the country club could not cause such a strong reaction.

  If anyone felt ill this morning, it ought to be Josh, who, according to Gracie, had gone to the office hours ago. He wasn't human, Carrie thought disconsolately, for he seemed to have none of the human frailties that plagued her.

  She brought the coffee cup to her lips and sipped tentatively. When her stomach showed no sign of rejecting that, she nibbled at a muffin and took another sip of coffee. Unaccountably, she remembered how a piece of toast or a cracker had helped to settle the morning sickness that had plagued Meg during the early months of her pregnancy.

  She set the coffee cup down suddenly as she realized what she was thinking. Could she possibly be pregnant? Her body had been sidetracked from its regular cycle in recent weeks, but she had assumed that to be caused by the tense state of her nerves. She shook her head, causing the tray to jiggle. No, she couldn't be pregnant. The possibility was too remote, and she would not accept it. That did not keep her from feeling frightened, however. Another child, Josh's child, would further enmesh her in his life, trap her here without any hope of release.

  Moreover, she was sure Josh would hate the idea and resent the additional obligation. He had already married her and adopted Mike; he wouldn't want a new baby by a woman whom he didn't love. Yet the sense of duty that had prompted his actions thus far would be doubly strong toward a child of his own. No, it was impossible.

  Slowly she ate a portion of the large breakfast, and afterward she felt well enough to dress and go downstairs.

  When Josh returned for dinner that evening, she found herself watching him for a sign that he remembered what had happe
ned between them upon their return from the country club the night before. There was nothing, and as Carrie answered his perfunctory inquiries about Mike and listened to his abrupt replies to Ethel's questions about the dinner-dance she became convinced that he remembered little of the previous evening's events.

  Miss Hastings brought Mike to them in the sitting room after dinner, and for the first time since his arrival home Josh's expression relaxed. He got down on the carpet and played with the baby, pretending to be a pony while Mike rode on his back and laughed happily. Ethel beamed at the two of them, and Carrie, from her chair in the corner, watched the spectacle with mixed feelings.

  It was clear that Mike had fully accepted Josh as his father. He called him Daddy all the time now and always toddled to hug Josh's legs each time Josh appeared after being away from the house for a few hours. As for Josh, he seemed happier and more human with Mike than in any other situation.

  The final adoption papers had been signed only days before, and watching man and child enjoying each other so totally, Carrie couldn't help wondering if Josh would want to divorce her soon. He had told her on the previous evening that he didn't want to discuss divorce. But, she thought bitterly, he'd had a more immediate goal in mind then, one which her stupid weakness had allowed him to accomplish.

  Surely he dwelt at times on marriage to Jessica, a marriage that Carrie now believed he had been considering before he learned of Mike's existence. Would he take Mike away from her now that the baby had come to love him? Would he marry Jessica? The thought caused a bitter taste to swell in Carrie's throat. Jessica as Mike's mother? No, she would never allow that to happen. She would never give up Mike. This was the one area in which she could overcome Josh's stubborn will because she loved Mike. He was part of her life, her self, and she could not imagine living apart from him.

  Josh continued to be home in time for dinner during the remaining days before Christmas, and he always spent an hour or two with Mike afterward. On the other hand, he was cold and reserved in his relationship with Carrie. Not once was there any indication in his words or manner to suggest that he remembered their lovemaking on the night of the dinner-dance.

  Carrie told herself this was best, even though she was finding it more and more difficult to sleep nights. Sometimes she would toss and turn for hours, the shameful memory of Josh's lovemaking making her feel agitated and overheated and ashamed of herself for the feelings. He had mesmerized her, possessed her in some dark spiritual way. He was a devil!

  In one of his rare cheerful moods, Josh spent all of Christmas day at home. Right after breakfast he took Mike into the sitting room to show the baby the array of gifts that Santa had left. Still too young to grasp the meaning of the occasion, Mike was nevertheless nearly delirious with joy over the rocking horse, the pull toys, and the wooden lawn mower that played a merry tune when it was pushed. Except for the rocking horse and some items of clothing that didn't stand a chance of catching Mike's attention with all those toys spread before him, Josh had chosen all the child's gifts.

  As they exchanged presents Carrie found her depression lifting. In addition to the wallet and monogrammed silk shirts she had bought Josh a beautiful pair of silk pajamas and bedroom slippers to match. When he opened the pajamas, he looked up at her with a sardonic smile, and she felt a sudden warmth in her face. What he was thinking could not have been clearer to her if he had spoken the words aloud. Whatever had possessed her to buy him something so personal?

  Ethel was warmly appreciative of the antique music box Carrie had finally found for her, and Carrie was equally delighted with the silver-handled vanity set that was Ethel's gift. After the mink she hadn't really expected anything else from Josh. But there were several gifts from him under the tree, things that, only months before, she had never even dreamed of possessing: expensive French perfume and an ivory and silver jewel case that held an emerald necklace and matching earrings. Her surprise over the extravagance of Josh's gifts allowed only a softly uttered "Thank you" to pass her lips in response.

  For a few moments her spirits soared as she thought that surely he must have some gentle feelings for her, respect at least. Then she remembered how wealthy he was, what a paltry sum the cost of her gifts must seem to him. Her depression of the past few days gradually returned.

  That evening, in her bedroom, she thought back over the day—the gift exchange and the lavish dinner that had been served in the dining room at seven with Mike joining them. The little boy had been so tired and excited, however, that he ate little and was soon carried up to bed by Miss Hastings. After dinner Josh had excused himself to go to his bedroom and Ethel had pleaded weariness, retiring to her apartment.

  Now Carrie sat on her bed, hearing an occasional sound from Josh's suite on the other side of the door. Unable to read, Carrie paced restlessly about the room, remembering the gifts Josh had given her and the brief thanks she had managed in return. She really had not shown much gratitude, and she decided she must before she would be able to sleep.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked to the connecting door and knocked.

  Josh's voice bidding her enter sounded gruff and distracted. He was sitting at his desk, a pile of papers scattered over the top. He was wearing his toast velour robe and the pajamas and bedroom slippers she had given him. He lifted his head, running a hand through his hair.

  "I'm sorry. I'm interrupting your work, aren't I?" Carrie said.

  "Yes, but it's all right." He turned more toward her, dropping on the desk the pen he was holding. "What do you want?"

  "I—I didn't thank you properly for your gifts."

  He lifted his shoulders as though the matter were of little concern to him. "I'm glad you're pleased." Then, with a slight smile: "I believe I once told you that you might adjust to being a Revell."

  She frowned. "If you are suggesting that I want to stay married to you for material advantage, you're wrong."

  "Oh?" His tone was mocking. "Then you have another reason?"

  "Reason for what?" He was confusing her, and, twisting her fingers together, she walked to a window and looked out at the darkness.

  "For wanting to stay married to me," he told her, with scorn lacing the words.

  She turned to face him. "I don't—I mean—" She halted abruptly, discovering that she felt hot and increasingly nervous. It seemed necessary to say something, however, so she blurted out, "I'm glad the pajamas fit."

  He glanced at the silk-clad legs that were now stretched out before him. "Perfectly. I decided to use them for lounging, since, as you must know, I sleep in the raw."

  "Yes," she replied with rising confusion. "I can't imagine what made me buy them. It's difficult to know what to give you."

  His head tilted to one side as he gazed at her. "I shouldn't think that would be difficult at all."

  "I've been thinking," she went on, unwilling to try to unravel his meaning; "I would like to know more about the family business. I was wondering if you would be willing to take me around, show me the operation."

  He continued to gaze at her with a mocking lift at the corners of his mouth. "Has Kevin turned you down?"

  "No!" His relaxed slouch in the chair irritated her beyond all reason. How dare he be relaxed while she felt tied in knots! "I haven't asked him."

  "I hope that is the truth, Carrie. I meant what I said about your not spending time alone with him. I won't have my wife carrying on an affair with another man."

  "If I told you I have no personal interest in Kevin, you wouldn't believe me, would you?"

  "I would find it difficult to swallow. I'm in a position to know that under that uptight exterior there is a deep sensuality. Once a woman like you has been… awakened, it is hard for her to live without love."

  For a moment Carrie could not find the words to express her outrage.

  "Tell me, Carrie, isn't that why you are really here?" He thrust his hands into his robe pockets, and the muscles in his long legs stood out clearly beneath the silk of his pa
jamas.

  "I came in here to thank you for your gifts—nothing more."

  "You're a poor liar, my dear," he said, his voice hard.

  If only he would not look at her with such contempt! Somewhere in the confusion of her overheated motives there was a desire to be taken in his arms, to feel them around her, to feel his body touching hers. But not with scorn mixed with it.

  Against her will, some of the hurt she was feeling softened her voice. "The only times you have touched me have been with naked lust, or when you were in a drunken stupor." Somehow she managed to push down the memory of the moments of tenderness, the amazing glimpses of gentleness she had seen in him when he was fully aroused. She rushed on. "You have never been convinced that I am not, at heart, a promiscuous, conniving woman, have you? Even though you know I was a virgin when I married you. I just can't understand—"

  Her words seemed finally to have disturbed his arrogant indifference. He straightened in his chair, and before she realized what he meant to do, he had reached out and, grasping her arm, jerked her onto his lap. She squirmed in the cramped position, but he held her against him with cruel hands.

  "Are you the sort of woman who can only enjoy sex when it is forced upon her?"

  She felt the hardness of his body beneath her as, with one hand, he forced her chin around so that his mouth could settle on hers, parting her lips and possessing them with a harshness that gave her physical pain. When at last he released her chin and lifted his head, his eyes scanned her features with unrelenting ruthless-ness.

  "Don't look so surprised." He moved, allowing his arms to drop away from her at last. "Isn't that what you came in here for? Perhaps you are now having second thoughts. What a vacillating creature you are! But don't worry—I won't take advantage of your weakness and carry you to bed."

  His words and icy gaze hurt her more than she had thought possible. She covered her face with her hands and cried, "You are mean and selfish and crude. There is not one spark of human feeling in you!"