Wonder and Wild Desire Page 7

  "Whether I do or not," Carrie flared, "I do not intend discussing it with you."

  "Ah…" He sipped his wine. "Well, you needn't tell me, but you don't have to." His glance slid to the narrow straps of her gown. "You chose white for your wedding night, and I think quite appropriately. But what I saw of the gown wasn't what you would call modest. Seduction and innocence—a charming combination."

  "You—you're disgusting!" She looked at him with scorn twisting her soft lips. "For your information, this gown was a gift from Jan."

  He shrugged. "Still, you chose to wear it tonight."

  "It was on top of the stack. I didn't expect anyone else to see it." She set her wineglass on the bedside table. "Please leave. I told you earlier that I can never accept you as my husband."

  "Be realistic, Carrie." He frowned and, finishing his wine, set the glass beside hers. "You can't expect me to behave like a brother when I have given you my name. It's true I couldn't allow Mike to be cheated of his heritage, but I didn't have to marry you. I could have gotten Mike by other means. But I knew that you loved him, and I'm not such a monster that I wanted to separate the two of you."

  "Well, you have us both now," Carrie said, "but still you want more."

  He shrugged. "I'm human enough to want the woman who bears my name. If you would forget the past and let yourself go, I think you would find that you receive as much as you give. Love is good for a woman, Carrie. It gives her a special kind of beauty."

  "Love!" Carrie looked at him in total incredulity. "You're unbelievable!"

  "I'm a man," he said quietly.

  Carrie bit her lip and turned her head away from him. "And you," he went on lazily, "are a woman, a lovely woman."

  "Not the sort of woman you seem to think," she said in low tones.

  "Aren't you, my dear?" He gave a quiet laugh and, bending his head, placed his warm lips on the smooth curve of her cheek. "How inexperienced you are, but it will be a pleasure to instruct you." His hand pulled the sheet down and pressed warmly against the curve of one breast.

  Carrie tried to pull away from him. "I—I'm cold." She tugged at the sheet, but his hand refused to be dislodged and now his fingers, shockingly familiar, were searching the ripe outlines. Carrie's face flushed and, with resentful nervousness, she squirmed back against the pillows in an effort to escape the tormentingly sensual movement of his hand.

  He lifted his head and looked down into her wide eyes, holding her gaze as if he intended to hypnotize her. Then his big hand pulled the sheet down to her waist with one swift, sure movement and her upper body, with its scanty covering of lace, was vulnerably exposed to his smoldering eyes. She noticed for the first time that his hair looked damp, as if he'd just come from the shower, and the musky smell of his aftershave seemed suddenly seductively overpowering.

  She gave a tormented little shiver as he slowly slipped one tiny strap off her shoulder. She lay there, feeling the heavy beat of her heart, as his eyes deliberately took in every feminine curve of her body. His hands were hot on the smooth skin of her upper arms.

  "I am your husband," he said softly. "I have the right to look at you—all of you."

  "I—I want to cover up." She tried to pull away from him, but she found that she could not free herself from his insistent strength. She could only gasp helplessly when he lowered his face to her neck and buried his lips in the soft skin.

  "Have you any idea," he murmured thickly, "how beautiful and desirable you are? I want you, my wife."

  "No!" She struggled in his arms.

  "Yes," he whispered, and his lips moved up the line of her jaw and settled gently on her mouth. She could taste the wine he had drunk, and as he continued to kiss her lingeringly she felt as if the potent liquid had entered her bloodstream, sending a warm electric shock along all her veins. Something dark and primitive stirred deep down inside her, and she was aware dazedly that her hands had somehow found their way to the back of his neck and were buried in his thick, tawny hair. Never in her life had she experienced such a helpless panic of all her senses, alone and without defense against this man who did not live by any of the rules she had thought civilized people obeyed. She became aware slowly that the seductive aroma of his aftershave was mingled with another, sweeter fragrance. Where, she wondered dizzily, had she smelled that before?

  The kiss deepened, became probing, demanding, as his tongue invaded the hot moistness of her mouth. Feeling herself being taken over by the strange, lulling power emanating from him, Carrie tried once more to pull away. He allowed her to loosen his hold slightly but, keeping his lips near her own, murmured, "Your mouth is soft and delicious. You shouldn't make it say cold, mean things. It wasn't made for that, it was made for kissing." His tongue traced the outline of her lips slowly, sensuously, and she trembled, causing him to smile lazily. "You see? You like that, don't you? You don't want me to stop. Your body is trembling with desire."

  "I—I'm trembling because I'm afraid."

  "Oh, no," he drawled, and his head came down so that his lips could push against the lace of her gown and move lightly over the soft curve of her breast. The shock of his kisses made her gasp, and he laughed softly. "Relax, Carrie, and stop fighting me. I'm your husband, and you can't deny me indefinitely. Sooner or later, I will have you."

  The sweet aroma seemed stronger now as her face brushed the thick, tawny hair, and suddenly she knew why it seemed familiar. It was the fragrance of the perfume Jessica Thorpe had worn earlier that day. Oh, no, she cried inwardly. He had come to her from that woman, and she was so weak that she was letting him…

  With all of her strength, she struggled free of his grasp. "If you have me, Josh, it will be by force." She lay pressing back against the pillows as far from him as she could get, panting with fear and self-loathing. The fingers that had been caressing so gently now gripped her arms like a steel vise. "You think so, Carrie? Face it, I almost had you just now. You were feeling a woman's passion."

  She lay passively and stared up at him. "I felt nothing—nothing but revulsion! Do you really want a woman who feels that way about you?"

  "You little fool!"

  "If I'd known before I married you what I would have to endure," she went on relentlessly, "I'd never have come here. I'd have taken Mike to the ends of the earth before I'd have married you."

  "It seems I've saddled myself with a frigid little prig!" he sneered insolently.

  "I hate you!" Carrie turned her head back and forth on the pillow, tormented by her helplessness in his grasp. "I'll hate you until the day I die."

  "Go to the devil!" Josh spoke through gritted teeth. "Suddenly I find you about as desirable as a bedpost." His cruel gaze glinted over her. "What a waste of a lovely gown!" He swung himself off the bed and jerked at the belt of his robe as he turned away from her. "Have your virginal bed to yourself—and welcome to it." He walked toward his suite and disappeared, the door closing with a click behind him.

  Carrie lay exactly as he had left her for some time, finally coming to her senses enough to pull the sheet and coverlet up over her trembling body. Never had she glimpsed such bitterness in anyone's face, heard such scorn in anyone's voice. The encounter with her husband left her shaken, nausea curling into a cold ball in her stomach.

  Groaning, she drew up her legs, hugging them with her arms in a defensive gesture. It was all too clear to her that she had made a dreadful mistake in coming here. She didn't want to be pulled down to Josh's level, a place where love was nothing more than degrading passion. She would not let him make her into the kind of woman he seemed to want. She would fight him every step of the way.

  She slept finally, but it was a fitful slumber filled with fragments of frightening dreams. She felt little rested when she finally awoke to pale sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains. Mike began to stir, too, and putting on her robe she went into the dressing room to get him. She dressed him in a long-sleeved knit shirt and bibbed overalls, and let him crawl about on the carpet while she put
on rust corduroy slacks and a matching V-necked sweater.

  Mike had pulled himself up to the foot of the bed and was toddling along, one hand gripping the solid wood: Watching him, Carrie realized that it was only a matter of a few weeks until he would be walking without assistance.

  She heard no sound from Josh's suite but, since it was after eight, she assumed he had already left for the office. This thought gave her a feeling of relief; she would not have to face him again until evening.

  Carrying Mike into the kitchen, she found Betty Carney bending over a pastry board, rolling out piecrust. She brushed the flour from her hands and smiled. "I was wondering when the two of you would show up for breakfast. I've got biscuits and bacon all ready, and I'll have some eggs scrambled in a minute."

  Carrie settled Mike in the high chair and went to the stove to pour herself a cup of coffee, which she took back to the table. "Has everybody else eaten?"

  "Oh, yes," Betty told her cheerfully. "Mr. Josh always eats at seven on weekdays, and I took Mrs. Revell's breakfast in to her a half hour ago." Having broken eggs into a bowl, she mixed them with a wire whip and carried them to the stove to pour the mixture into a frying pan. Stirring slowly, she turned to Carrie. "Mr. Josh always eats breakfast in the dining room. I've been wondering if you and Mike would like to have breakfast and lunch in there… or I could bring it up to your bedroom, same as I do for Mrs. Revell."

  "I don't want to make any extra work for you," Carrie said.

  The housekeeper's brow creased in a puzzled frown. "That's what I'm here for, ma'am." - "If it's all the same to you," Carrie went on, "Mike and I can have our breakfast here in the kitchen. In fact, I think Mike should have most of his meals here. He's still pretty messy, and I wouldn't want him dropping food on the carpets."

  Betty removed the scrambled eggs from the skillet to two plates. "Whatever you want," she said as she carried the plates to the table.

  "I'm not used to people waiting on me," Carrie said frankly. "Besides, the idea of eating alone in the dining room doesn't particularly appeal to me."

  Betty Carney studied her for a moment, her head to one side. "You're sure not anything like I expected."

  Carrie smiled as she handed Mike half of a buttered biscuit. "Oh? What did you expect?"

  The housekeeper hesitated. "Someone older and—"

  "More sophisticated?" Carrie provided lightly. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, Betty. I can imagine what you expected. But I'm just a small-town girl who lived from one paycheck to the next until now."

  "It's no crime to have to work for a living," sniffed Betty.

  "No, but you'll have to give me a little time to get used to the way the Revells live."

  Betty smiled warmly. "I hope you don't change too much, ma'am, if I may say so."

  When she'd finished her breakfast, Carrie said, "May I leave Mike here with you for a while? I'd like to go in to see Mrs. Revell."

  "You go along," Betty responded readily. "I'll set his playpen up in the corner and he can keep me company this morning."

  Carrie found Ethel, wearing a white satin robe, sitting at her antique desk writing a letter. Calling for Carrie to enter, Ethel laid her pen aside and moved to sit on the chaise longue. "I'm glad you could come in for a bit."

  "I don't mean to interrupt what you're doing."

  Ethel indicated the armchair next to the chaise. "Sit down. I can write letters any time. It's a note to Jessica thanking her formally for finding the clock for me." Her pale face sobered. "Josh left very early this morning, didn't he?"

  Carrie almost said that she had no idea when Josh had left, but she caught herself just in time. "About seven. I'm not sure of the exact time because Mike didn't awaken me until later."

  "Josh works too hard," stated Ethel. "I'm expecting you to use your wifely charms to keep him at home more."

  Carrie felt her cheeks growing warm and looked away from her mother-in-law in an effort to hide her discomfort. She could feel Ethel's eyes resting steadily on her face, however, and after a pause the older woman said, "Josh is very like his father was, my dear. Strong and domineering, if you allow him to get away with it. But a shrewd woman can get her way with a man who loves her."

  Carrie cast about for something to say to this sweet, misguided woman. "His work piled up while he was in Boise," she managed finally, "but I imagine he'll get caught up in a few days."

  "I expect you're right," Ethel said. "There's still coffee in the pot Betty brought in earlier. Would you like a cup?"

  "Yes, thank you," said Carrie gratefully, willing to agree to anything that would switch the topic of conversation from her husband.

  Ethel lifted the silver pot which sat on the small table beside her and poured coffee into a fragile china cup, which she then handed to Carrie. "I've been wanting to discuss something with you—a small dinner party I'm planning for Saturday evening to introduce you to our closest friends."

  "Are you sure you're feeling up to a party?" Carrie inquired, feeling the beginning of dread at the prospect of being on show all Saturday evening as the lovely wife.

  Ethel laughed. "I'm certainly up to planning the menu, which is all that is required of me until the guests arrive. Betty will take care of everything else. I thought we might serve Cornish hens. Betty glazes them with an orange confection and serves them with a delicious wild-rice dressing. Or perhaps you would prefer something else?"

  "No, that sounds fine."

  "Good, then I'll call everyone today. We'll have Loren and Christine McCloy. Loren is manager of our paper mill. Christine's always busy with their three youngsters, but I think you'll like her. I want you to get acquainted with some of the women in town who are nearer your own age. Of course, Kevin Hamilton, the manager of our plywood plant, must be included."

  "And Mrs. Hamilton?" Carrie put in.

  "Kevin's a bachelor." Ethel chuckled. "But two or three unattached young women are working on changing that status. Oh, we must have our local physician, Robert Marlow, and his wife, Jane. The Marlows have been good friends ever since Robert came here to practice more than twenty years ago. Let's see, now…" She gazed across the sitting room reflectively. "Oh, we can't forget Jessica." Her eyes came back to Carrie with innocent sincerity. "That will round out the number nicely, don't you think?"

  Carrie murmured in agreement, although at the mention of Jessica Thorpe a small feeling of anticipation, which might have been stirring in her as Ethel enumerated the Revells' closest friends, was quickly doused. Her first impression had been the correct one: Saturday night was going to be an ordeal.

  That afternoon, while Mike napped, Carrie explored the house and grounds. The Carneys occupied a small apartment in one of the single-story wings which angled off the main section of the house, while Ethel's suite of rooms took up most of the other wing. The large two-story central section contained, on the ground level, formal living and dining rooms, kitchen and utility areas, a book-lined study, and two small, cozy sitting rooms. Upstairs, in addition to Carrie's and Josh's suites, there were four unoccupied bedrooms, each with its own bath. These, Carrie surmised guiltily, had undoubtedly been planned to accommodate the children Josh would have someday. Now, except for the one that Mike would use later, they would continue to be unoccupied—unless Josh came to his senses and allowed her to get a divorce and leave with Mike so that he could marry again.

  The grounds covered, as she had already concluded, several acres; a tall chain-link fence surrounded the entire estate. Most of the acreage had been left to flourish in its wild state, and a variety of trees grew in dense profusion. Scattered about were several stone benches which Carrie realized would be lovely spots for idling away quiet hours during the spring and summer months. Near the house, Adam Carney had taken nature in hand, creating a smooth rolling lawn with well-spaced spruce and pine trees, shrubbery, and flower beds.

  She recalled Josh's statement when he had brought her here: A good place for a child to grow up. It was true; this was far more su
itable than anything Carrie could have provided for Mike. The knowledge made her feel sad as she returned at dusk to the house. There the housekeeper asked if she would like to have her dinner with Mrs. Revell in her suite. Josh, it seemed, had not come home. Betty insisted on feeding Mike in the kitchen, and Carrie accepted Ethel's invitation, not wanting to dine alone.

  While she and Ethel were eating at a table set up by Betty in Ethel's sitting room, Josh phoned.

  "I'm sorry to miss dinner," he told Carrie, his voice sounding brusque and far away. "We've got a problem with some late lumber deliveries, and I've spent most of the day on the phone soothing disgruntled customers. I only now have a chance to look at the day's mail." He paused to heave a deep sigh. "I'm going to be very late, I'm afraid."

  "I see."

  "I doubt that you do," he stated flatly. "Mother gave me a rakedown last evening, and I expect I'm in for another one from her after this. Try to explain the situation, will you?"

  "I will."

  She hung up, feeling irritated that Josh expected her to make his excuses for him. Wasn't he the one who had insisted that they play the part of a happily married couple? For Mike's sake, he had said. He certainly hadn't sounded concerned about Mike just now; he hadn't even asked about him.

  She couldn't help thinking that Josh, with all those employees at his beck and call, could have come home for dinner if he had wanted to. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, he plans to dine with Jessica Thorpe. Grimly, she walked back to the table to answer Ethel's questioning look the best way she could.

  She played with Mike for some time before putting him to bed, retiring herself a little before eleven. Josh was still not home, and her suspicion that he was with Jessica had hardened into certainty.

  Next morning she was awakened by the sounds of deep male laughter and childish gurgling coming from Mike's room. The louvered doors were standing open; evidently Josh had gone in to say good morning before leaving for work. Tying her quilted cotton robe about her waist, Carrie went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her hair. She lingered for some time, wanting to give Josh ample opportunity to go downstairs for breakfast. But when she reentered the bedroom, he and Mike were sitting on her bed. Josh was still in his robe, and Mike was playing with his Teddy bear.