Bridge to Haven (19 page)

“Taking what in?”

Dylan had the most beautiful, gleaming smile. She laughed, a little breathless. “Running away with you, of course.” He was so handsome. Picture-perfect.

“I can’t wait to get you into bed.”

Would the earth move, like Penny’s hidden romance novels said?
She felt a shiver of fear. She didn’t know anything about sex, other than it was a great mystery.

She studied his profile. “Where will we go to get married?”

“Married!” He gave a short, derisive laugh. “What gave you the idea I was going to marry you?”

His words felt like a slap. “You asked me to come away with you, Dylan. You said you wanted me.”

“Oh, baby. I do. I want you in the worst way.” He caressed her burning cheek with the back of his hand. “More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.” He focused his attention on the road ahead. “Who knows? Maybe I will get married someday. Wouldn’t that be something?” He laughed as though the whole idea were impossible. “Hey.” He gave her a sneering smile. “Do you think Reverend Freeman would perform the ceremony?”

“I doubt it.”

He laughed. “I was kidding.”

Maybe it was the way Dylan was driving—taking the curves so fast the tires screeched, jamming the gearshift, accelerating—that made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Well, we’d invite him anyway, wouldn’t we?” Dylan spoke dryly, mockingly. “And that sanctimonious son of his, too. What was his name?”

“Joshua.”

“Yeah. Joshua. Nice Bible name. Maybe I’ll marry you just to see two grown men weep.” He laughed.

For a split second Abra wanted to tell him to turn the car around and take her home. She didn’t want to talk about Pastor Zeke or Joshua. She didn’t want to think about how disappointed they’d be in her. She thought of the notes she’d left. No turning back now.

Dylan looked at her. “You know what I love about you, baby? You went after what you wanted. You didn’t chicken out.”

She studied the hard, handsome angles of his face, illumined by
the dashboard lights. Would she ever find anyone like him again? Someone who made her feel such a wild sense of want and need? “I love you, Dylan.”

Dylan grinned. “I know you do, baby. I knew the minute I saw you, we were made for each other.”

She’d hoped her declaration would encourage Dylan to make a declaration as well. Her stomach trembled, no longer with desire. “Do you love me, Dylan?” She held her breath, waiting for his response. She had turned her back on everyone in Haven to come with him, and now, sacrificed her pride as well.

Dylan gave a careless shrug. “I’m not sure I know what love is, baby.” He gave a curt laugh. “I’m not sure I want to know. From what I’ve seen, love makes a man weak.” He downshifted and took a hard curve, accelerating again. “One thing you’d better learn about me right now—” he gave her a warning glance—“I don’t like being pushed.”

She got the message. If she wanted Dylan to love her, she’d better do whatever it took to keep him happy. She looked out the window, fighting the struggling emotions inside her. She should count herself lucky. Every girl in Haven had wanted him. He had chosen her. And he had chosen her over Penny. That was important, wasn’t it?

Resting her head against the seat, she pushed down the swelling weight of disappointment. This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t what she thought it would be like. Instinct told her not to cry in front of Dylan. He had as much as told her he didn’t like cowards.

Dylan turned up the radio, and Nat King Cole’s “Pretend” filled the car. He sang “That’s Amore” along with Dean Martin. He had a good voice, but not nearly the quality of Pastor Zeke’s or Joshua’s.

Why was she thinking about Pastor Zeke and Joshua again? She told herself to put them out of her mind. She’d seen them for the last time.

“You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden. I can’t stand it when a girl sulks.”

She forced a smile. “I’m just enjoying the ride.”

“Are you, now?” He pressed down harder on the gas pedal, grinning at her and not letting up until the car began to vibrate with the speed. “Feels like it’s going to come apart, doesn’t it?”

Her heart thundered in her ears, but she made herself laugh. “Can’t it go any faster?”

Dylan looked surprised and pleased. “You’re a wild girl!” He slowed the car. “We’ll try her out on a straightaway sometime.”

“Where are we going?”

“San Francisco. I made reservations.” He gave her a bright-white grin. “It’ll be nicer than any place you’ve ever been.”

As the hours passed, the fog of infatuation seemed to burn away. How much did she really know about Dylan? All she’d thought about over the past weeks was the way she felt when he looked at her. Even now, when he turned his dark eyes on her, she felt a little breathless. Dylan didn’t ask how she was feeling or why she was silent. He was too busy beating a rhythm on the steering wheel.

“Dylan sort of scares me.”
Penny’s whispered words rose up to mock her.

Niggling doubts chipped away at her confidence. But what did Penny know? She and Dylan had only gone out twice before he lost interest and dropped her. Thinking about Dylan with Penny made her stomach clench. Why was she letting herself even think about these things now? Dylan was all that mattered. He had chosen her, not Penny. He’d take care of her.

Had he said so?

What if he hadn’t?

The road climbed. Dylan raced up the hill, then down, entering a tunnel. The Golden Gate Bridge came into view on the other side. Heavy morning fog poured over the mountain and across the road like white foam. The City by the Bay was all lit up, beckoning. Dylan slowed to pay the toll when he reached the bridge, the
ta-tick-ta-tick
quickening Abra’s pulse. After going so fast, forty-five felt like a slow crawl across the mile-plus expanse. Dylan drove along Doyle Drive toward the marina, then turned down Van Ness. He ran two stoplights and made a hard left onto California, shooting up the hill. “We’re almost there, baby.”

A cathedral loomed above them. She’d dreamed she’d have a white wedding someday. She made a promise to herself to make Dylan so happy tonight, he’d want to marry her tomorrow morning. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She’d make it so he never wanted to let her go. The car flew up Nob Hill. A block past the cathedral, Dylan made a sharp left, and parked in front of the Fairmont Hotel. Abra gaped. She’d never seen anything so grand.

“Here. Put this on.” He pulled a ring from his little finger and handed it to her. “Turn it around, so only the band shows. If anyone asks, we’re on our honeymoon.” He shoved his door open and got out. Cold humid air hit her.

Abra quickly slipped on the ring with the crest of a winged beast before the man in uniform opened her door. “Welcome to the Fairmont.” His smile altered when he got a good look at her. She blushed. Clearly the man knew she and Dylan weren’t married. He knew why they were here. She lowered her eyes as she got out of the car.

“Hey! You!” Dylan tossed the keys to the man. “Park it.” He came around and took Abra by the arm, leaning down to whisper, “Try not to look like such a schoolgirl.” Dylan swept her inside the hotel.

Abra wanted to hide when they entered the lobby, though only hotel staff was around at this hour.

“Sit over there and wait for me. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be right back.” She did what he told her, sinking into a plush velvet chair behind a palm. Dylan walked away.

He had such confidence, as though he belonged in places like this. Heart hammering, palms sweating, Abra looked around at marble
pillars, gilt staircase, red carpets, the sculptures tucked into corners, the paintings on the walls. It was like a palace! She remembered what Mitzi had taught her when she got the jitters before playing piano at church.
“Take a deep breath and release it slowly through your nose. It’ll calm you down.”
Abra put away the thought that anyone was looking askance and imagined herself a princess, Dylan the prince who had brought her to this castle.

She heard him laugh. Peering around the palm, she watched him flirt with the attractive receptionist. The woman smiled back at him and went to work while Dylan leaned forward on the counter. Whatever he said flustered the woman and made her face turn pink. Jealousy and hurt surged through Abra’s body. Had he already forgotten he’d left her hidden in an out-of-the-way corner?

What would Dylan do if she got up and walked out the door right now?

Where could she go if she did? It was cold outside, and she hadn’t thought to bring a coat. She’d have to call Peter and Priscilla and beg them to come and get her.

Would they?

Dylan appeared, grinning. “Piece of cake. Flirt a little and she didn’t even bother to look your way.” He studied her face. “You didn’t think I was attracted to her, did you? She’s got ten years on me at least. Then again, it could be interesting.” He put his arm around her and tucked her close against his side. “Relax. I’m all yours. They’re sending champagne up to the room so we can celebrate the nuptials.” He kissed her temple. “You look scared.”

“I am. A little.”

He knew exactly where the elevators were located. Had he been here before?

“I don’t know anything, Dylan.”

“Oh, you will, baby. You will.” As soon as the doors closed, Dylan pulled her into his arms. “I love the way you look at me. Like the
sun rises and sets on my command.” His mouth devoured hers as he pushed her back against the wall. Up, up, up they went. His body felt like a furnace.

The elevator stopped. Dylan took her by the hand. She had to take two steps to his one as he strode down the carpeted hallway. He unlocked a door and pushed it open. “Home, sweet home.”

Her heart stuck in her throat, and she didn’t move until he put his hands on her hips and pressed her forward. The door wasn’t even closed before he started pulling at her clothing. She gasped, backing up. Buttons popped. Unzipping her skirt, he shoved it down over her hips, and it dropped to the floor around her ankles. She said his name in frightened protest when he yanked the straps of her bra down from her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the door. She scrambled to cover herself.

Dylan said a foul word, his breath coming hot and heavy. “Go in the bathroom and stay there until I tell you to come out.”

Abra fled and closed the door behind her, shaking. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the flushed, dark-eyed, disheveled girl staring back at her. She could hear Dylan through the door, talking to someone. He sounded in complete control again, amused. The other man spoke in a low, respectful voice. Footsteps headed for the door. It closed with a snap.

Dylan walked into the bathroom. “We have our luggage. Coast is clear, baby.” When he lifted the lid of the toilet and unzipped his pants, she hurried to the bedroom. Hands against her hot cheeks, she stood at the windows, staring out at the city lights, the narrow streets, the Bay Bridge. She felt a thousand miles away from Haven. She heard the toilet flush.

In a panic, she opened Penny’s suitcase and rummaged for her baby-doll pajamas. When Dylan came back out into the bedroom, she ducked by him and went into the bathroom again, locking the door this time.

Dylan laughed and drummed his fingers on the door. “You’re not going to be one of those girls who locks herself in the bathroom all night, are you?”

Another knock on the door to the suite saved her from having to answer. Dylan opened it and talked to another man. She heard the rattle of a cart, glassware, the men talking in low voices, the pop of a cork, the door closing. Dylan tapped again. “Champagne’s arrived.”

She opened the door cautiously. “Is anyone else going to come?”

“Not until we order breakfast in bed.” He held out a crystal glass of champagne and lifted his. “Here’s to enjoying life to the fullest.” He clinked her glass with his. “Drink up, baby. You look like you need a little liquid courage.” He watched through veiled eyes as she sipped experimentally. The bubbles tickled her nose and she didn’t like the taste. “Try it with this.” He fed her a strawberry. He replenished her glass. After two, she felt light-headed.

Dylan ran a fingertip down her bare arm, raising goose bumps. “You look more relaxed.” He took the glass of champagne away and put it on the room service cart. “Enough bubbly.” He gave her a teasing wink. “I want you conscious.”

Abra had never seen a man undress before and turned her back. Dylan chuckled. “Don’t be shy. You can look.” He turned her around to face him and grasped her hand. “And touch.” When she pulled back, he took hold of her baby-doll pajamas and ripped them down the front. She raised her hands to try to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms apart so he could look at her. “I knew you’d be beautiful.”

“You’re hurting me, Dylan.”

“It’s your own fault. Stop fighting me.”

“Please. Wait.”

“Why?” His eyes were like black coal, his smile mocking. “Baby.” He wedged his knee between hers.

How could someone so beautiful become so ugly and frightening?
The curling warmth in the pit of Abra’s stomach became a cold lump of fear. Everything felt wrong.

Dylan was strong and relentless. He was neither kind nor gentle.

Unable to escape, Abra retreated inward, shutting down, going numb. She felt as though she floated above, witnessing the devastation.
This is making love? This vile, profane act of violence? This is what novelists describe as making the earth move?

Finally, it was over. Dylan pulled back abruptly, leaving her to feel the cold. Had his fingers left bruises? She felt battered inside. She wanted to cover her face in shame.

Dylan sprawled on his back and went straight to sleep. He snored like an old man.

Abra lay still, afraid to move, afraid to awaken him. She stared at the ceiling, tears flooding her eyes, seeping down her temples into her hair. In the darkness she remembered.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Abra.”
Joshua had tried to warn her. She’d always been an outcast, a castaway. Now she was defiled, as well.

Oh, God, what happens now?

A dark voice in her head whispered,
What do you think? You make your bed. You sleep in it. Remember? This is what you wanted. You’d better make the best of it.