After the Music (17 page)

He reached out and touched her hair lightly, tracing its sheen to her shoulder. "Just an office checkup, that's all. They'd never have let you out of the hospital if they'd had any doubts about your recovery."

"Of course." She lifted her shoulders and winced as the bruised one protested.

"How does it feel?" he asked, nodding toward her arm. "Sore." She laughed.

He put down his whiskey glass and moved closer, opening her robe with such deft assurance that she didn't think to protest the intimacy. The gown underneath covered her of course, but it was old and worn thin. When he drew the robe away from her body, he smiled wickedly at the flush on her cheeks.

"You can't possibly be self-conscious with me?" he teased. "Not after that day in the woods."

Her eyes widened, as they looked into his, and the smile on his face began to fade. His long fingers drew a pattern down her throat, tracing the madly throbbing pulse, lingering just below her collarbone where the loose gown had sagged.

"I wanted you," he breathed. "Never more than that day, when you let me open your blouse and look at you, and touch you, and taste you." His jaw tautened as he sighed wearily. "I was so wrong about you, Sabina. I knew it then, but things had gone too far. I was afraid of what was happening to me. I hated you for leading me on, when you belonged to Al, for keeping us both on a string. I couldn't be sure you weren't the gold digger I thought you were. I didn't trust my instincts. It never occurred to me that you could have been pretending. But it should have. Everything was wrong about that engagement. A blind man could have seen through it."

"You were trying to protect Al. I realized that, although it didn't help a lot at the time," she said quietly. "I've been so ashamed of my past, you see."

"Why?" He brushed the dark hair away from her 'face. "None of it was any of your doing. Your mother did what she could for you. I can see that it would have left scars, but it was never your fault."

Her eyes fell to his chest. "I was there the night my mother died-" she closed her eyes "-that last night, when he hit her..." Her voice broke.

"Darling, don't." He pulled her gently into his arms and held her and rocked her, his hand smoothing her long hair, his deep voice soothing her. "It all happened a long time ago. It's over.

She dabbed at the tears, shifting and moaning as her shoulder began to ache again.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly. His hand moved to her face and touched it hesitantly, learning every soft contour, as hers had once done to his, delighting in its vulnerability.

"Thorn," she whispered.

His breath became audible. His mouth was poised just above hers and his eyes looked deep into her own as his fingers passed slowly down her throat to her collarbone and still further. She tensed, but he shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "Let me touch you."

She bit her lower lip as his lean hand eased under the fabric, and he watched her as the tips of his fingers teased softly around the edges of one perfect, creamy breast.

He moved, easing her down onto the couch, and she heard the springs shift under them. But what he was doing was so delicious that she didn't even protest. She trembled with sweet anticipation, wanting him so much that it was almost painful. His arm made a pillow behind her head, and he smiled softly as her body jerked toward his fingers.

"Wicked, wicked...man," she whispered brokenly, watching his face.

"Indulge me," he whispered back. "You can't know how it was, seeing you in that hospital bed."

It was hard to think. "The nurse said...that you talked to me and...held my hand...oh!" she gasped as one lean finger brushed the hard tip of her breast.

"Did she tell you that I sat by you when they told me you might not come out of the coma, and that I cried like a boy?" He put his hard mouth slowly, warmly on hers. "Because I did. Open your mouth."

"Cried...?" She couldn't think. His tongue was working sorcery on her parted lips, and his hand had eased down completely over her bare breast, so that she could feel not only his slightly calloused fingers, but also the wrinkly moist warmth of his palm. "Thorn," she moaned, and her body arched.

"Open my shirt, and do that to me," he whispered into her mouth. "Let me teach you how to arouse me."

Her breathing became short. Her hands shook so much she could hardly fumble the buttons of his shirt open. To be allowed free license with his body was overwhelming.

She eased her fingers down against the thick mass of hair and over the warm muscles. She searched for his skin, finding taut peaks that might have been the mirror image of her own. Her eyes found his.

"Do men...too?" she whispered.

"Yes." He held her head gently in his hands. "Open your mouth, and put it against me, there," he whispered, guiding her down his chest. She did as he told her, and he groaned harshly, a sound that made her head lift so that she could see his face.

"Don't you moan when I put my lips on you?" he whispered, smiling.

Her eyes were full of wonder. "Oh, Thorn, I never knew-!"

"Thank God." He moved, peeling the gown to her waist, and she let him, lying pliant in his arms, watching his face as he saw what his stroking had accomplished. "I like knowing that you're a virgin," he said unexpectedly, touching her lightly. "You aren't afraid of the first time with me, are you?" he asked quietly.

Her face reddened. "I can't..."

"Not now, little tulip," he said with a laugh. He bent and eased his bare chest down over hers, and smiled at the way she trembled. "Yes, I like that, too. I like the way it feels to have you half nude against me. You're a sexy woman."

"Thorn, I won't be-" she tried again.

"Where would you like to be married?" he asked.

She stared at him as if he'd gone crazy. "What?"

"Where would you like to be married?" he murmured against her mouth. "Beaumont or New Orleans? Mr. Rafferty" can give you away, and Jessica can be matron of honor."

Her palms flattened against his chest. "I can't marry you," she said.

His face went expressionless. "Why not?" he said.

She drew a breath and tried to get up. Surprisingly, he let her, watching as she drew her gown back up and shouldered gingerly into her robe again. "I just can't, that's all."

"Is it your career?" he persisted. "Because I'll compromise."

She shook her head. She wrapped her arms around her waist, dying inside because he'd just said the one thing she wanted most in the world to hear. She loved him, would have died for him. But she couldn't marry him.

"Then why?"

"How would you announce it?" she asked with a bitter laugh, and ran an unsteady hand through her hair. "My parents were never married, you know. There was a front-page story when my mother was killed. Inevitably, people would find out. In the circles you move in, I'd be so much of a liability-"

"Liability, hell! That's no excuse at all." He sighed wearily and got to his feet. "It's because of what I did to you, isn't it?" he asked in an odd voice. He wouldn't look at her. He lit another cigarette, took a few draws and, as quickly, put it out. "It's because I humiliated you. You think I might do it again."

"No!" Her head came up. "No, it isn't that, truly it isn't! It's just that you'd-oh, Thorn, you'd be so ashamed of me."

His eyes closed. "The only person I've been ashamed of in recent weeks is myself." He moved restlessly toward the door. "I need to do some paperwork, I'll see you later."

She stared at his broad back, half puzzled, half certain. Did he care? Could he care that much and still not believe her reasons for rejecting his proposal? Her heart raced wildly.

She took a gamble, the maddest gamble she'd ever taken in her life. If he rejected her, she'd never get over it.

"Thorn!" she called.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

She gathered all her courage and held out both her arms to him.

He hesitated for an instant, and her heart began to throb. She feared that she'd misread the entire situation. Then his face changed. He moved back toward the sofa and suddenly dropped to his knees and clasped her hard enough around the waist to hurt her, burying his face in her breasts.

She held him, feeling the tremor in his body, her hands tangling in his dark hair. She sat disbelieving, trembling with new emotions, with shared emotions.

"I love you," he managed in a broken tone. "Oh, God, I love you, and I didn't know it until that night, until it was too late, and I wondered how I was going to live if I'd caused you to do something desperate. I called to make sure Jessica was with you because I was afraid. After that, I could never get close to you again. I knew I'd lost you. I knew I had..." His arms tightened and he caught a savage breath, while Sabina stared down at his dark head in shocked delight. "I kept up with you, I followed your career, I even paid for that damned video," he added, stunning her. "But nothing compensated me for you. I haven't been near another woman since you left. I've hardly eaten or slept...and then that damned light fell on you, and I paid for sins I haven't even committed yet. I sat by your bed and held your hand and knew that, if you died, I might as well lie down beside you, because I wouldn't have had a reason left to stay alive myself."

"Oh, Thorn," she whispered, pulling his head closer. "I love you so much..."

His head lifted, his eyes unusually bright. "Do you? Even after all I've done to you?"

Her fingers touched his face wonderingly. "I understood even then, you know," she whispered. "I knew you so well. It frightened me sometimes, especially when I was pretending to be engaged to Al, because you were like the other half of my soul. I even knew what you were thinking."

"Yes, I felt that," he sighed. "At the church, when you said I never let people come close, you hit a nerve, darling. I hated having you know that, hated being so vulnerable, so readable.

If it's any kind of compensation, I've paid for what I did to you. Being without you was more than enough punishment."

She bent down and kissed his mouth tenderly. "I want a child with you."

His breath held, and his eyes were gloriously loving. "I want one with you. I did even that first day you came to the ranch. You mentioned having babies, and I looked at you and wanted to see you big with mine. It scared the hell out of me," he said with a chuckle. "After that, all I could think about was getting you pregnant. That was when I realized how committed I was." His smiled faded. "Marry me, Sabina."

"There'll be gossip," she cautioned.

"Darling, there'll always be gossip. I love you. What else matters?"

"You're hard to argue with," she murmured.

"So they tell me." He kissed her gently. "Marry me. Give me some children. I'll buy you a new bathrobe and let you sing in my nightclub."

She laughed at his phrasing. "How can I sing when I'm pregnant?"

"Listen, lady, you can even sing while you're getting pregnant, for all I care."

"Thank you," she murmured demurely, batting her eyelashes at him. "Thorn, I hear that new vocalist is doing great with the band. And if you'd let me study opera in my spare time, and let me teach voice.. ."

He looked shocked. "What are you offering to do?" he asked. "Give up everything you've ever worked for?"

She slid down onto the floor in front of him and linked her arms around his neck. "I have everything I ever wanted right here," she said solemnly. "There is nothing I want more than you, and that includes a career. Later, when the children are older, perhaps. But being on the road was already beginning to pale, and I'm terrified of large crowds. I want to live with you and travel with you. I love you."

"Darling," he breathed, searching for words.

"Shhh," she whispered, putting her mouth against his. "Lie down, darling," she murmured wickedly.

"Like hell." He chuckled. He got up, smoothing his hair. "You're not getting me into bed without a wedding ring."

"Tease," she said accusingly.

He made a mock bow and helped her to her feet. "We'll set a wedding date. Meanwhile, don't you want to know who all those presents are for?"

She stared past him at the tree. "Who?"

"I got Mr. Rafferty a warm coat, and the twins some new shoes, and their mother a coat..."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "My friends...."

"The whole world is your friend," he whispered. "But I'm your best one. Between us, we'll spread a little comfort, okay?"

She reached up and pressed a warm kiss against his chin, her eyes brimming with love. "Okay."

He smiled at her. In his eyes, she saw the sweetness and laughter of the years ahead. And she laughed, softly, wonderingly, just before he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the sofa.

"I thought you weren't going to let me get you into bed until we were married," she chided.

"I didn't say one word about sofas, did I?" he murmured with a roguish smile. He put her down on the couch and let his eyes wander slowly from her toes up over her legs and hips to her taut breasts. His hand went to the buttoned cuffs of his shirt and he flicked the buttons out of the holes with deliberate slowness while she looked up at him, lips parted, body aching.

"The door's open," she whispered.

"For your sake, we'd better leave it that way," he murmured. His lips curved in a smile. "On second thought, to hell with it." He closed the door without looking out, locked it, and went slowly back to the couch. "Now," he said in a breathless, laughing tone. "Aren't you too hot, with all those clothes on?" he murmured, easing down beside her. "Hmmmm, your skin's hot, darling," he taunted, watching her as he lazily disposed of the robe and put it aside. His mischievous eyes went down to the taut outline of her breasts, which were moving with the torturous raggedness of her breathing.

"Thorn," she whispered in a tone that throbbed with hunger.

"I want you, too," he said in a whisper. "But I'll stop before we go too far. Lift up, darling, and let me get this gown out of my way....Yes, yes!"

Old Juan, who'd been on his way to tell them dinner was ready, had watched the door close and simultaneously turned around on his heel, smiling, to go back to the kitchen. Time enough to eat, he told himself. There were more important things. He put the plates aside and began to hum.