The Awakening

by Jude Deveraux

  She tried to pull away from him but he held her hands. “I want to go home and burn my clothes and I want my schedule back.” Tears were coming to her eyes. “Let me go, I said! I want to go home!”

  As she struggled, he pulled her into his arms. “Go ahead and cry, Amanda. Cry all you want. You deserve it.”

  She fought against him. She didn’t want to cry and she didn’t want to ever see him again. “Let me go. I want to go home!”

  “I think maybe you are home,” he said, holding her to him, pinning her arms as she struggled. She didn’t have the strength to fight, and after a while she clung to him. He seemed so healthy. She’d seen sick people today, people who couldn’t afford a doctor. She began to cry in his arms, and he sat down, his back against a tree, and held her.

  “I worry about test scores while they have no food,” she said through her tears.

  He unpinned her hair and stroked it as it hung down her back. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “But my father—”

  He touched his lips to hers to quieten her, and to the astonishment of both of them, it was like the setting off of a bomb. Amanda opened her mouth under his and pressed her body against his. Neither of them thought as Hank’s hand sought her breast and found it, and as Amanda felt his hand, her body went limp in his arms, opening herself to him.

  “Amanda,” he whispered against her lips, “we have to stop or I won’t be able to.”

  “Please don’t stop,” she said desperately. “I couldn’t bear it if another man turned me away. Make love to me. Make me feel whole and clean and as if I’m worth more than a test score.”

  Hank started to say no. She was upset and emotionally spent and she might regret this in the morning.

  “Please, Hank,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He had once thought that if Amanda ever asked him “please,” he might do anything she wanted. He’d guessed right. He couldn’t deny her anything, and all rational thought fled.

  He stood with her in his arms and walked toward the spring-fed pond. “How about a bath, baby?” He moved with her into the pond, clothes, shoes, wallet and whatever else was on their persons and all.

  The cool water sobered Amanda. “Dr. Montgomery,” she said nervously, “regarding what I said a moment ago—”

  He kissed her. “You can fight me or help me, but the result will be the same. You won’t be the same when you leave here tonight, Amanda.”

  She was standing on the bottom, the water to her waist, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he was telling her the truth. She wondered if she’d wanted him from the first moment she’d seen him. Tonight she was going to do what she wanted to do. Tonight she wasn’t going to rely on a schedule or someone else to tell her how to act.

  “Yes,” she whispered and began unbuttoning her filthy dress.

  Hank pushed her hands away and deftly unfastened the buttons, then slipped the dress off her shoulders. There was an intensity in her eyes that seemed to go through him like a knife.

  “I’ve never wanted anything in my life like I want you right now, Amanda,” he said and grabbed her to him, her feet coming off the bottom of the pond. Neither of them noticed her dress catching water and sinking.

  Hank opened his mouth over Amanda’s until he almost swallowed her, as his hands pushed the straps of her undergarments off her shoulders, and when they wouldn’t slide, he tore them off.

  Amanda was too bewildered to think. There had been an absence of passion in her life and she responded to him with all her pent-up desires. He was every flirtation she’d ever missed, every dance, every social, every romantic novel she hadn’t read; he was every piece of cake, every glass of champagne, every handholding she’d never experienced. “Yes, yes,” was all she could say, her head leaning back, her hands in his thick hair.

  When her breasts were bare, he fastened his mouth on the pink tip, drawing her into the hot, wet cavity of his mouth.

  Amanda’s knees gave way and he supported her, one hand clutching her firm, round buttocks. He picked her up and her loose, torn garments fell away into the water. She was wearing only black silk stockings and black, lacy garters.

  Hank put her legs about his waist, his hands cupping her buttocks as his mouth stayed on her breast, sucking, his tongue hard and firm, running across her hard nipple. He set her down in the grass, her back at an angle against a mound of earth. He ran his tongue down her belly, nipping with his strong teeth at the fleshy part around her navel.

  “Let’s see how all of you tastes,” he said, and he buried his tongue in the most intimate part of her.

  Amanda’s eyes came open; she grabbed the hair of his head and started to push him away, but then his tongue was moving, his lips sucking. She arched her back and clasped his ears with her silk-clad knees. His hands came up to clutch her breasts, his thumbs flicking at her nipples, which were hard and sensitive.

  Just when she thought she might die, he moved his mouth down to her inner thighs and his hands were rubbing on her skin, making her skin feel hotter and hotter and hotter. She moaned under him as he ran his hands down over her legs, over the silk of her stockings. Silk and skin.

  He paused with his hands on her ankles, then withdrew them from her body.

  Amanda opened her eyes in horror. Was it over?

  “Just a pause, baby,” Hank said huskily, reading her mind. He was removing his clothes, and Amanda turned her head away.

  “No you don’t,” he said and leaned into her, his body between her bent legs. She could smell herself on his face, and instead of repulsing her, it made him seem more intimate. “You don’t turn away from me,” he said. “You look at me like I look at you. You kiss me where I kiss you.”

  Amanda opened her mouth to say no to that, but he put his tongue in her mouth, ran it over her teeth, pulled her tongue into his mouth. She wasn’t going to say no to anything he said.

  He came out of his clothes quickly, and if Amanda thought she was going to die before, the feel of his bare skin next to hers almost did her in. His ribs were between her thighs as he once again kissed her breasts then began moving up. She kissed his lips, his chin, his neck, the soft spot in his collarbone; then the hair of his chest was in her face, and she turned her face back and forth, feeling the maleness of him, smelling him. His strong arms were by her head, big enough to crush her. He made her feel so small and yet so powerful because she could feel his heart pounding.

  He moved up and her mouth opened onto his hard, flat belly. She could feel his manhood prodding her throat, so smooth, so strong. And then it was at her mouth.

  “No,” she whispered and turned her face away.

  “I don’t believe in double standards,” he said throatily. “Taste me, Amanda.”

  She grabbed him in her hands and sucked him down her throat. He was hard and smooth, like hot marble, and she sucked on him until his skin nearly came off.

  She groaned when he moved away from her, but she felt his frenzy as well as her own.

  She was wet when he entered her, wet and ready, and he slid into her like a hand into a glove. Amanda bucked under him but he calmed her as he held himself back. He didn’t dare move because he was ripe to bursting.

  Amanda found her rhythm and began to move slowly while he held above her, supporting himself on his arms, his eyes closed and an expression of pain-pleasure on his beautiful face. Amanda was like a child with a new and wondrous toy, sliding up and down, in and out, gliding, silk and satin, hard and soft.

  And then her body began to tighten and her fingers clawed into his back and she pulled him down to her. She wanted him closer and closer to her. She wanted his hot, tawny, male skin next to hers. She wrapped her legs around his lower back, the black silk on his skin, and pulled him deeper and deeper into her.

  His reserve left him and he became an animal: a wild, violent, mindless animal as he thrust into her, holding her to him as if his life depended on her. Only she could give him what he had to have.

>   He came in one blinding, debilitating flash that made him shudder as if he might come apart, and Amanda clung to him as he lifted her with him. They were one.

  It took long, long moments for Amanda to come to herself. She held him fiercely, with her arms, her legs, held him inside her with muscles she’d just discovered tonight. She buried her face in his neck, touching him as much as she could.

  Hank held her just as tightly. Never had he had an experience like this. No woman had made him come so hard, as if his whole body were pouring into her. When she began to relax her grip on him, he couldn’t bear to release her. He pushed her legs down beside his and, doing his best to stay inside her, he rolled to his back and held her hot, delicious body on top of his. He wouldn’t even let her foot hang off his body. He wanted all of her, every hair, every pore.

  He thought maybe she dozed. She was as limp as…as a woman who was sated, and she fit every plane of his body, as if they had been carved out of one piece of flesh and somehow accidentally separated. But now they were together again.

  He caressed her hair at her temple and lay as still as he could to let her sleep. If anyone deserved rest, she did. Ever since he’d met her he’d wanted to open her eyes to the world around her, but today, when he’d seen her eyes opening, he’d wanted to take her out of that dingy little rented house. She’d been so horrified at the poverty of the people. And he’d seen the way she had blamed herself. Why did she think the world’s evils were her fault? Why did she think it was her responsibility to give Driscoll what he wanted? Or Caulden? Didn’t she ever do what she wanted?

  He pulled her closer, felt her snuggle near him like an infant—his baby, his precious, darling, beloved baby.

  Amanda roused and looked up at him. “I think I fell asleep.”

  He pushed her head back down to his shoulder. “Sleep all you want.”

  Amanda was returning to being Amanda and not some blind machine of passion. She was also beginning to remember some of what she’d done. “Dr. Montgomery, I—”

  “Hank,” he said and held her head down. He never wanted to break this moment. Never wanted to leave here. Here was where he was meant to be, where he never wanted to leave.

  “I think I should go home,” Amanda said softly.

  “Not yet,” he answered and put his leg over hers, and at that moment their most intimate entanglement was broken.

  Amanda knew she needed to get away from him. She had to go somewhere and think about what had happened to her tonight. And she was beginning to be embarrassed by where she was and what she’d done.

  She pulled away from him, turning her back to hide her breasts from his view. “I think I should get dressed.”

  The spell was broken for Hank. She was Miss Caulden again. If she wanted to play formal, so could he. “The last I saw your clothes they were on their way to the bottom of the pond.”

  Amanda felt a little like a reveler the morning after. Now she was going to pay the price. Was she supposed to enter her father’s house stark naked? Dr. Montgomery and I were talking and one thing led to another, she’d say. She took his shirt from the grass and slipped it on. “Now what do I do?” she said, mostly to herself.

  Hank sat up, trying unsuccessfully to control his anger. Her only concern was how she was going to conceal what she’d done from Driscoll. Sympathy for another person only went so far. There came a time when Amanda was going to have to think for herself, a time when she was going to have to say this is what I want. “I’ll take you home,” he said flatly. “We’ll sneak you in like we did the night of the dance.”

  No word of, Stay with me, Amanda thought. No words of love. No words of, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Just an animal coupling, then she was to go home. She deserved it, didn’t she? She’d gone after him, sought him out. He’d left the Caulden Ranch, yet she’d followed him, had climbed into his car with him and had asked him to make love to her. What was that old saying? Beware of what you ask for, you might get it. Well, she’d got what she asked for, all right, and now she was going to have to pay the price.

  She stood. “I’d be grateful if you’d return me to my house,” she said coolly. She was very close to tears. Would he go back to Reva now or would he maybe visit that pretty little Italian girl she’d seen him looking at today? She couldn’t bear to look in his eyes. For all Amanda’s strict upbringing, she wasn’t really any better than the women who lived on the edge of town. “I will find a way to get inside.”

  He drove her back to her house in silence, neither of them speaking, each of them occupied with his own thoughts, both of them angry and hurt.

  Amanda sat in the passenger side of the car, wearing his shirt and her black silk stockings that stopped just above her knees.

  “Stop here,” she said, indicating the end of the long Caulden driveway. “I’ll walk.”

  He was further angered that she wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. Would she go tearing back into her fiancé’s cold arms? “He won’t forgive you for this, you know,” Hank couldn’t resist saying.

  “No, I guess not.” She didn’t know who he meant, but it didn’t matter, because she doubted if anyone would forgive her. She got out of the car and he didn’t bother to help her out, nor did he say a word before he sped away, leaving her standing in the darkness.

  Amanda walked slowly up the long driveway and at the house she saw a light on in the parlor and her mother sitting alone reading. Amanda put her head up to the window. “Psst!” she said.

  Grace Caulden looked up, saw her daughter, then went to the window. “Amanda, are you all right? You look as if you’ve been in an accident.”

  “Worse than that,” Amanda said. “Mother, could you get me some clothes? I seem to have…well, lost mine.”

  “I would be glad to, dear,” Grace said and left the room. Moments later she was outside in the darkness of the trees, a dress over her arm. “That dragon, Mrs. Gunston, was hovering about your room. I had to sneak past her.”

  “She is a bit of a dragon, isn’t she?” Amanda said, staying in the shadows so her mother couldn’t see the extent of her nudity.

  “Would you like to tell me why you’ve come home wearing only a man’s shirt? It wouldn’t by chance be Dr. Montgomery’s shirt, would it?”

  Amanda didn’t want to answer her mother. She just wanted to go to her room and be safe.

  Grace watched her daughter for a while then smiled. “Whenever you want to tell me what happened, I’ll be here to listen.”

  Amanda nodded. She was afraid she might cry if she started to talk. They walked together into the house. Taylor was standing at the head of the stairs, as if he were waiting for Amanda. He was formidably tall, his face as dark as a thundercloud.

  “You are very late, Amanda,” he said.

  “And very tired,” she answered.

  “You are to come to the library. I want to talk to you. There was an exorbitant bill sent here today for sandwiches. You must explain yourself. And also explain why your hair is down.”

  Amanda couldn’t bear any more. “I am too tired to go to the library, and the bill for the sandwiches can be taken out of the money that’s been saved over the years from all the meals I’ve missed. Now, please excuse me, I am going to bed.”

  Amanda was too tired to think how revolutionary her words were. Behind her she left a stunned Taylor and a mother who was smiling broadly. Once inside her room, she pulled off her dress and hose and fell into bed, not bothering to put on her nightgown.

  Mrs. Gunston gave her usual quick knock the next morning and walked into Amanda’s bedroom. The room was a mess; clothes on the floor, shoes kicked into far corners, hose draped on a chair. The bedclothes were half on the floor, and sprawled in the middle of the bed was a nude Amanda, on her stomach, one foot hanging over the side.

  For a moment Mrs. Gunston was too astonished to speak. “Get up from there!” she shouted at last. “How dare you throw your clothes about? How dare you—”

&
nbsp; “Go away!” Amanda said angrily, turning over, the sheet pulled across her breasts. “Go on, get out of here, and tell Martha to bring me some coffee. Strong coffee.”

  Mrs. Gunston obeyed.

  Amanda sat up and put her hand to her head. It was aching, and the woman’s shrill voice hadn’t helped any. She looked up to see Taylor standing in her doorway. Now he comes to my bedroom, she thought. Not when she begged him to pay attention to her, but now when another man had…had touched her.

  “I do not like this,” Taylor said. “Ladies do not shout.”

  Amanda at last saw some interest in his eyes as she sat in her bed with just a sheet under her arms. And something about his interest made her a little sick. “I need to dress to go to work. Would you mind closing the door?”

  Taylor stepped further into the room. “Amanda, I cannot allow you to go back to that place today. The chauffeur said it was full of filthy people.”

  “The chauffeur’s name is James and yes they are filthy people, but it’s because they have no money—or food or a place to sleep.”

  “Amanda,” Taylor said firmly, “I forbid you to go. Last night you looked as disreputable as one of the field workers, and this morning—” He broke off and stared at her.

  “And this morning, what? This morning I don’t look like your pupil? Oh, Taylor, please go before we have a fight. I must get dressed, and please don’t say you forbid me to go because then I’ll have to defy you. Wait until the hops are in, when everyone is gone, then we’ll talk again, but please don’t make me say something now that I’ll regret later.”

  Taylor didn’t seem to know what to say as he backed out of the room and closed the door.

  Amanda leaned back against the headboard. It was as if another person were inside her body. She’d yelled at Mrs. Gunston, who’d always terrified her, and told Taylor she was not going to do what he told her to do.