An Independent Wife (13 page)

Then she looked up and met Rhy's penetrating gaze and she paled. He'd removed his jacket and his shoulders strained at the material of his white shirt, and something in his stance told her that he was alert to her every movement. "Why don't you take a shower?" he suggested. "I'll make some phone calls and make certain everything's set up for the interview, which could take a while."

She wanted more than anything to grab her suitcases and run, but she knew that Rhy was waiting for just such a move. She would have to trick him and she wasn't certain just yet how to manage it. And a bath sounded like heaven....

"All right," she agreed wearily, picking up her suitcase and taking it into the bathroom that opened off to the right of the sleeping area, carefully locking the door behind her.

Despite her weariness, the bathroom delighted her. It could have come straight out of a Turkish harem with the black-tiled sunken bath, the mosaics, the rich jewel-like colors. She flung her dress off and peeled off her damp underclothing, sighing with relief at the sensation of cool air on her sweaty skin.

She turned on the crystal taps that let the water pour into the huge tub and slid with a sigh into the cool water, then splashed about with a fantasy of having servants waiting to help her from the bath and prepare her body with perfumed oils for the coming night with the dark, exciting sultan....

Then reality intruded with the thought that she'd go mad under such circumstances, and she had enough to worry about now without bringing a sultan into it. She got out of the bath and toweled herself dry; then she debated what to wear. If she changed into street clothes Rhy would watch her like a hawk, but she had no intentions of parading around before him in a nightgown. She finally settled on a sapphire blue caftan and zipped herself into it, then took down her hair and brushed it vigorously.

She was too tired to braid it so she left it loose. After picking up her scattered clothing and tidying the bath she unlocked the door and carried her suitcase out.

Rhy was on the phone and he barely looked in her direction as she put belongings away, trying to behave as if she meant to stay. She wandered around the room, fighting to hold off the sleepiness that was growing stronger and listened as Rhy talked to several people.

After some time he covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said to her, "Why don't you go ahead and get some sleep? I don't know how long I'll be."

She didn't want to go to sleep, every instinct screamed against it, but she couldn't leave with him watching her. Besides, she was so tired; every bone and muscle in her ached from the long hours sitting in the plane. She could rest for just a few minutes until Rhy got off the telephone. She was a light sleeper; she'd hear him when he went into the bathroom.

She pulled the shades over the doors to the balcony and dimmed the room into semidarkness, then crawled among the pillows on the divan with a sigh of ecstasy. She stretched out her aching legs, turned her face against a pillow and was instantly asleep.

She was aroused some time later when someone muttered, "Move over," and she rolled over to make room for the warm body that slid next to her. Dimly she was aware that she should wake up, but she was so comfortable and the quiet hum of the central air conditioner lulled her back to sleep.

The time difference was confusing; when she woke it was dark, but she'd slept for hours. Still groggy, she peered at the dim figure coming out of the bathroom. "Who is it?" she called thickly, unable to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She wasn't certain just where she was, either.

"Rhy," the rough-velvet voice answered. "I'm sorry I woke you, I was just getting a drink. Would you like a glass of water, too?"

That sounded heavenly and she sighed a yes, then began struggling into a sitting position. In only a moment a cool glass was being put into her hand and she drained it thirstily, then gave it back to him.

He returned the glass to the bathroom as she fell back among the pillows and thought drowsily that he must have eyes like a cat because he hadn't turned on any lights.

Just when the bed dipped beneath his weight again she remembered that she'd been planning on slipping out and her heart lurched with fear. "Wait-" she gasped in panic, reaching out to thrust him away, and her hand encountered smooth warm flesh. Shocked, forgetting what she'd been about to say, instead she blurted out, "You don't have anything on!"

In the darkness he gave a rough chuckle and turned on his side to face her, his heavy arm sliding around her waist and overcoming her futile resistance to pull her snugly against him. "I've always slept in the raw ... remember?" he teased, his lips brushing her temple.

Her breath halted in her chest, and she began to tremble at the pressure of his strong, warm body against her. His male scent filled her nostrils and made her senses begin to swim. Desperately fighting her growing need to press herself to him and let him do as he wanted, she put her hands against his chest to push him away and instead found her slim fingers twining in the hair that covered his chest.

"Sallie," he muttered hoarsely, searching for and finding her lips in the darkness, and with a moan she lifted her arms to cling around his neck. She knew she should resist him but that had never been possible and even now, when she had such good reasons for fighting him, the temptation of knowing again such wild satisfaction kept her from shoving him away-Nor was he unaffected; his big body was trembling against her when he lifted his mouth from hers, scattering kisses across her face and eyes. She felt him slide down the zip of the caftan and pull it from her shoulders, bunching it about her waist, then his shaking hands were exploring the delicately swelling breasts he had bared. Helplessly she buried her face in his shoulder, shuddering with the force of the desire he'd awakened, not wanting him to stop, knowing she'd go mad with frustration if he stopped.

Fiercely he stripped the caftan away from her and threw it aside, and she had a brief moment of sanity as he turned back to her. Her hands clutched at his powerful shoulders and she moaned weakly, "Rhy...

don't. We shouldn't."

"You're my wife," he muttered in reply, taking her in his arms again and pressing his weight over her.

She gasped at the wild, sweet contact of his bare flesh against hers, then the passion-tart possession of his mouth over hers sucked away her protests, and again her arms lifted and clung about him.

It was as if the years of separation had never been; their bodies were as familiar with each other as they had been long ago. Caught up in the whirlpool of his passion she could only respond, only return the passion he so freely gave- He wasn't gentle; except for the first time, Rhy had never been a gentle lover. He was fierce, tender, erotic, wildly exciting, and she was unable to stem her passionate reception of his lovemaking. It was just as it had been before-no, it was better; he drove her beyond sanity, beyond caring, beyond knowledge of anything except him.

Sallie came awake slowly, too comfortable and content to easily relinquish her hold on slumber. She felt utterly boneless, weightless, as if she were afloat. Her body was moving up and down in a gentle rhythm and beneath her head a steady, soothing drum kept time with her heart. She felt so marvelous, so safe....

The shrill ringing of the telephone was a rude interruption into her euphoric state and she muttered a protest. Then her bed moved beneath her and she clutched at it, only to find that instead of sheets her fingers were clinging to hard, warm skin. Her eyes popped open and she raised her head as Rby stretched out a long, muscular arm and lifted the receiver from the bedside extension. "Hello," he muttered sleepily, his voice even huskier than usual as he wasn't completely awake. He listened a moment, said "Thank you" and hung up, then, with a sigh, closed his eyes again.

Hot color ran into Sallie's cheeks and hastily she tried to scramble away from him and pull up the sheet to cover her nude body. She was prevented from moving by his arms, which tightened about her, holding her in place on his chest. His eyelids, with their thick black lashes, lifted and he surveyed her flushed, tousled, early-morning beauty with a satisfied gleam in his gray eyes.

"Stay here," he commanded huskily. His hand quested down her side, smoothing her silky skin, and he murmured against her ear, "I feel as if I have a kitten curled up on my chest. You hardly weigh anything."

Involuntarily she shivered in delight at his warm breath in her ear, but she made an effort to free herself, saying, "Let me up, Rhy, I want to dress-"

"Not yet, baby," he crooned, brushing her long hair back to press his lips into the small hollow below her ear. "It's still early, and we don't have anything more important to do than getting used to each other again. You're my wife and I like the feel of you in my arms."

"Estranged wife," she insisted, trying to arch her head away from his insistent lips, but instead she found herself merely tilting her head back to allow him greater access to her throat. Her heart began pounding when he found the pulse beating at the back of her neck and sucked at it hungrily, as if he wanted to draw her life's blood out of her body.

"We weren't estranged last night," he murmured. "Last night..." Her voice failed her and after a moment she managed to continue. "Last night was the result of memories, an old attraction, nothing more. Let's just mark it down to auld lang syne and forget about it, shall we?"

He relaxed back against the pillows but kept her cuddled close against him. Surprisingly her statement didn't seem to anger him, for he smiled lazily at her. "It's okay to surrender now," he informed her gently. ,I won the war last night."

She almost winced with pain at the thought of giving him up again, yet she knew she couldn't be happy with him now. She let her head fall onto his shoulder and for a moment she allowed herself to relish his closeness. He stroked her back and shoulders, playing with her hair, pulling it all to one side to drift over his chest and shoulder. His touch was sapping her strength, as always, and while she still had the presence of mind she raised her head from the haven of his wide shoulder and gazed at him seriously.

"It still won't work," she whispered. "We've both changed, and there are other considerations now.

Coral's in love with you, RhY. You can't just turn your back on her and hurt her like that-or were you planning on keeping her on the side?"

"You're a little cat," he observed lazily as his hand began questing more intimately, "always scratching and spitting, but I've got a tough hide and I don't mind if you're a little temperamental. Don't worry about Coral. What do you know about her, anyway?" e confessed, "She came to my apartment," Salli to warn me that you weren't serious, that You always came back to her." She tried to squirm away from his boldly exploring fingers and found instead that the friction of her skin against his made her catch her breath in longing.

He swore beneath his breath. "Women," he growled, "are the most vicious creatures on earth. Don't believe her, baby, Coral doesn't have any hold on me. I do what I want to do with whomever I choose-and right now I choose my wife.-

"It isn't that easy," she insisted. "Please, Rhy, let me go. I can't make you understand when you're holding me like this--

"Then I'll keep holding you," he interrupted. "The bottom line is this, you're mine and you'll stay mine.

I can't let you go and I hope you're not in love with that photographer of yours because if you are I think I'll kill him!"

White faced, Sallie stared at him, at his suddenly narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. He reacted on a Purely Primitive basis to the thought of another man touching her, and abruptly she knew that it had been stupid to let him think she was involved with Chris. Not only was that a challenge to Rhy's virile domination, it wasn't fair to Chris to use him as a shield. Rhy was dangerous, he could hurt Chris and it would be her fault.

On the other hand, it went completely against her grain to let Rhy have everything his way, especially after last night. He'd certainly had everything his way then; except for that one feeble protest she'd made she hadn't attempted to ward him off at all. Even that lone effort hardly counted, because she hadn't tried to fight him off, she'd only said "no" and of course it had been a waste of breath for all the attention Rhy had paid to it.

Nor did she feel free to tell him anything about Chris. Chris's calm, lazy manner went hand in glove with such a strong sense of inner privacy that she was still surprised that he'd confided in her, and she refused to betray that confidence just to pander to Rhy's ego.

She still hadn't said anything, and suddenly Rhy's patience snapped. His hands tightened on her and he rolled, taking her with him and pinning her firmly beneath him. "Maybe you need to be shown again just who you belong to," he said violently, his mouth hard, his eyes glittering with an anger that wasn't quite anger.

Sallie's heart jolted as she felt his muscular legs parting hers, and she knew that he was going to make love to her again. Already she was drowning in the warmth that flooded her, and her heartbeat settled into a rapid pounding. But even as she slid her arms around his neck she heard herself insisting steadily, stubbornly, "I belong to myself. No one else."

"You're mine, Sallie! Damn you, you're mine!" With his violently muttered words echoing in her ears she gave herself up to this overwhelming possession and even though her mind protested her senses were too enthralled by the delights he offered to let her argue with his blindly possessive instinct. She loved him, loved him so much that after those seven long, lonely years without his touch, now that he'd overcome her resistance and made love to her again, she wanted nothing more than to revel in the intimacy of their closeness. He couldn't give her love, but he could give her this, and it was as much of himself as he would ever give any woman. She clung to his broad shoulders and matched his fiery demands with her own, and when he finally moved from her to collapse on his back they were both satisfied and trembling with exhaustion. Unable to stand the space in the bed that separated them Sallie slid across to him and curled up against his chest, her lips pressing against his throat. As suddenly as cutting off a light she was asleep, her hands clinging to him even in sleep, as if she couldn't bear to let him go.