Temporary Bride (11 page)

She leaned wearily against the glass but jumped to
attention as a hand on her shoulder startled her. She turned and looked
into Shane's smiling face. "I think you've had enough for one day, Mrs.
McKittrick." he said. "Besides, I can't wait any longer to have you all
to myself."

The look in his eyes told her that he had definitely not
forgotten his duties as a husband. Suddenly she didn't want to be alone
with him. She felt safe down here among all these people. When he got
her upstairs there was no telling what he might demand of her. She
looked around and cleared her throat as she said, "But our guests. We
can't—"

Shane's hand on her arm was propelling her toward the
stairway. "Mark and Janice are taking over as host and hostess. We'll
slip quietly away and nobody will miss us."

She gripped the railing as his hand at her waist ushered
her up the stairs. She wondered what he would do if she hung back, but
she couldn't think of a good excuse and he was capable of picking her
up and taking her to his bedroom by force even if she did.

She hadn't been in Shane's bedroom since that night with
little Danny, but now she saw that all her things had been transferred
from across the hall at some time during the afternoon and the new
snowy white sheer nightie and peignoir that Julie had insisted she
order as part of her trousseau were laid across the turned-back bed.
The lights were low and the soft strains of the music filtered up from
below.

Shane took her in his arms and kissed her. She was stiff
in his embrace and she turned her head slightly. Shane drew back a
little and said, "What's the matter?"

"I—I'd like to take a shower if you don't mind,"
she stammered.

His fingers under her chin lifted her face and his lips
clung to hers. "All right, but don't be long."

She gathered up her nightclothes and rushed into the
bathroom, locking the door behind her.

The warm shower helped to relax her as the stinging
needles of water brought life back to her tired body. She wished she
could stand there forever and let the splashing liquid drive away all
her tormenting thoughts, but she couldn't afford to anger Shane. She
was completely at his mercy now and she shuddered at the thought of
what he might do if she tried to deny him anything.

She dried herself quickly with the big soft bath towel and
slipped into the nightie and peignoir. They billowed around her like a
cloud, concealing everything from her neck to the soles of her feet as
long as she didn't take off the peignoir. The nightie, however, was
low-cut and sexy. She brushed out the complicated coiffure and let her
hair swirl naturally around her shoulders.

Shane wasn't in the bedroom when she opened the door and
relief swept through her. Then she noticed that the French door was
partially open and knew he was on the balcony. She headed toward it and
saw him in the moonlight, leaning against the wrought-iron railing
smoking a cigarette. He must have heard her because he turned and said,
"Don't come out here—it's chilly."

He snuffed out his cigarette and came back into the room,
his eyes cloudy with desire as he looked at her. He reached out his
hand and she involuntarily took a step backward. He quirked one eyebrow
and grinned. "Now that you're all fresh and clean I can't very well
climb into bed with you till I shower, too, can I?"

She gave him a weak smile and he headed toward the
bathroom.

Karen looked at the king-size bed. She'd never seen one
quite so big. The sheets and pillow cases were yellow and when she ran
her hand across them she found they were satin. Imagine her, Karen
Muir, sleeping between satin sheets with a stranger. But she was Karen
McKittrick now and Shane was no stranger—he was her husband.
Then why did she feel this urgent desire to run, hide, get as far away
as possible? Had she made a monstrous mistake?

She crawled in on the far side of the bed without
bothering to remove her peignoir. Maybe Shane wouldn't notice. She lay
down and pulled the covers around her shoulders. The mattress was soft
and shaped itself to her curves, but she couldn't relax.

The bathroom door opened and she stiffened. It was too
late now—there would be no more stalling, no turning back. In
a few minutes she would belong to Shane, permanently and irrevocably,
whether he wanted her or not!

He was wearing only a towel draped around his hips and he
removed it before he got into bed beside her. He turned toward her and
took her in his arms. He ran his hand across her shoulder, down her
arm, and cupped it around her breast. Her heart was pounding but not
with passion— with fear! Did she really want to give herself
to this man who could arouse her so easily but whose only purpose in
doing so was to get her pregnant—and then to leave her?

He nuzzled her neck and murmured, "Do you always wear so
many clothes to bed? Don't you think we could do without four or five
layers?"

She swallowed. "I—I didn't want to get cold."

His long fingers were undoing the tiny buttons of the
filmy peignoir. "I promise I won't let you be cold. Sit up a minute and
slip your arms out of these sleeves."

She sat up and took off the peignoir and Shane pulled her
back down and buried his face in the exposed valley between her small
firm breasts. It took real effort not to pull away as his lips took
liberties that had never been taken with her before. Her hands
tightened into fists as he raised his head and smiled.

"Is that nightgown stapled to you or can it be removed?"

Her voice wavered as she replied with a question. "Aren't
you going to turn off the light?"

"No, I want to look at you." He was slowly drawing the
nightie up around her legs.

She pulled away and snapped. "Please, don't do that!
I—I'd rather leave it on."

Shane propped himself up on his elbow and his brown eyes
searched her face. "Karen, what's wrong? You're trembling. Are you
afraid of me?"

Afraid! How could she tell him she was terrified! Maybe if
she did he would leave her alone. The hope died immediately as his hand
resumed its exploration. How could she be so stupid? Shane wasn't a boy
who could be put off with a promise of "later". He was thirty-two years
old and he'd married her for only one reason—to give him a
child. He'd have no patience with her if she pleaded for mercy.

She unclenched her fist and put her hand on the mat of
dark hair that covered his muscular chest. "No, Shane, I'm not afraid
of you." She tried to keep her voice steady. "It's just—well,
I've never done this before."

He kissed the pulse at the base of her throat and
murmured, "I know, sweetheart. I won't hurt you. Try to relax and let
me teach you what a marvelous experience it can be."

She tried. She really wanted to please Shane but the more
aggressive he became the more tense she became until he could no longer
be patient and her nerves snapped and she began to fight. She pounded
him with her fists and cried, "No! No! Leave me alone! I hate you!" and
burst into deep, wrenching sobs.

Shane hesitated, then swore viciously as he rolled off the
bed, snatched up his robe, and slammed out of the room.

Karen's pillow was wet with tears when she finally fell
asleep from sheer exhaustion shortly before daybreak, but she was awake
again at eight with burning eyes and the heavy sluggish feeling of
despair. She dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom, where
she washed her face and brushed her teeth. It didn't help and the image
that looked back at her from the mirror was drawn and haggard with
white cheeks, pale lips, and red bloodshot eyes ringed with puffy deep
blue shadows.

How could she ever face Shane? She'd driven him from her
bed and now he'd send her away. He was her husband and she loved him,
but he had been right—she was too immature to be his wife,
the mother of his child. She'd taken everything and given nothing. She
hadn't seen him since he stormed out of their room last night, his
patience at an end, his disgust unmistakable.

Karen dressed in a skirt and blouse, one of the outfits
she'd worn to school last year. It didn't matter anymore if she looked
like a little girl— that's what she was—too much of
a baby to grow up and act like a wife. She didn't bother to repair her
tear-ravaged face; there was nothing she could do to it anyway.

The cleaning crew was busy removing all traces of the
wedding and Karen finally found Shane in the den, which had already
been cleaned. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading as she
opened the door and there wasn't a bit of warmth in his face. His icy
glance returned to the paper as she came in and shut the door. He
wasn't going to make this easy for her, but she hadn't expected that he
would.

She walked over and stood in front of the fire that had
been set in the fireplace. She was cold. The damp fog, absent
yesterday, was back, but it was a chill deep inside her that caused her
to shiver. She hadn't been warm since Shane walked away from her.

Shane rustled his paper and she noticed the silver coffee
service on the redwood burl table She poured herself a cup of the
strong black liquid, more to have something to do than because she
wanted it. She noticed Shane's half-empty cup and asked, "Would you
like me to warm your coffee?"

"No." His answer was curt.

She took her cup to the fireplace and sat down on the
raised hearth where Shane had sat the night he agreed to make her his
wife. What could she say to him? How could she possibly make him
understand when she didn't understand herself? She closed her eyes and
took a deep breath as she said, "Shane, I'm sorry."

He was hidden behind the paper and there was no response.
Was he going to shut her out completely? Not even listen?

She drew her knees up under her chin and clasped her hands
around her legs. There was still no sound from Shane and the silence
was unbearable. If only he would yell at her, swear, hit
her—anything but this cold, stony withdrawal.

Maybe if she told him the truth about her feelings for him
it would help. There was no reason not to—she'd already lost
him. She raised her head and saw that he had put down his paper and was
looking at her. For just a second, before he could hide it, she saw the
pain that looked out of his dark eyes.

She licked her dry lips and her voice was almost a whisper
as she said, "I love you, Shane."

She wasn't prepared for the rage that replaced the
indifference on his face. He crushed the newspaper and threw it across
the room as he shouted, "You'll go to any lengths for a little
financial security won't you? Last night you couldn't bear to have me
touch you but now that you've had time to realize that you can easily
be replaced you tell me you love me. Well, get your act together,
little girl, because it's an amateur production that will never hit the
boards, and, please, spare me your lies!"

Karen cringed and her arms tightened around her legs. He
didn't believe her! But then why should he? Her actions were more
convincing than her words. She'd never make him understand but she had
to try. She couldn't bear to have him think she only wanted his money!

She shook her head and said, "It's not like that, Shane. I
want to make love with you. I have from the beginning, although I
didn't realize it until that afternoon we picnicked in the arbor and
slept in each other's arms. If you'd made love to me then, or the night
I agreed to marry you, I might have been shy and frightened but I would
have come to you eagerly."

He looked at her in amazement as she continued. "It's just
that you changed so after we decided to get married."

He was calmer now. "Changed? How did I change?"

"You got all involved in premarital agreements and wedding
plans and none of it seemed to have anything to do with
me
,
Karen Muir. I got the feeling that any girl would have done—
and it's true, any girl would have. You didn't want
me
,
you wanted a mother for your child!"

Shane opened his mouth to speak but she hurried on. "I
know, you told me in the beginning that's all you wanted, but these
last two weeks you've just ignored me. I've hardly seen you. You
haven't kissed me, or held me. You've seldom even spoken to me except
to ask questions concerning our wedding plans."

Once more he tried to speak and again she stopped him.
"The wedding was beautiful but it was too big and impersonal. There
were hundreds of people and I didn't know any of them. Then we got
separated, and by the time you came for me it was like going to bed
with a stranger. I—I didn't know you anymore."

With a little sob she put her face back down on her knees
and sat there, curled tightly into a ball. For several minutes the
silence in the room was total. Finally she raised her head slightly and
saw Shane slumped back against the couch with his hands over his face.
He looked almost as tired as she felt. Was there any way they could
salvage this disaster?

He took his hands away from his face and looked at her,
his eyes filled with tenderness and remorse. His voice was gentle as he
said, "Karen, come here."

She got up obediently and went to him and he pulled her
down on the couch and cuddled her close against him. Her heart leaped
at his nearness and she sighed with relief. At least he wasn't mad at
her anymore! He tipped her white, pinched face up and studied it before
he kissed her puffy eyelids and said, "You look awful."

Her finger traced the lines around his mouth and at the
corner of his eyes as she answered. "You don't look so good either."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"A little, just before daylight. Did you?"

"No, nor did I deserve to." He brushed her hair back and
pressed her head into the hollow of his shoulder. "I've treated you
shamefully, little one, though it was never my intention. I wanted to
take care of you but I should have adopted you instead of marrying you.
You need a father not a husband."