Savage Desire

by Rosemary Rogers

A black brow arched in amusement. “Get dressed, Ginny. Or are you waiting for me to help you? It’s a surprise, and I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Ginny gazed at him uncertainly, her brief defiance vanishing. There was something so different about him now, the way he watched her, helped her so tenderly, ignored her when she was ill-tempered. While she’d been mending, he had not left her side, but watched her with something like—like shame in his eyes.

  I can’t bear it! After all that has happened, he must think me so loathsome, so defiled….

  Turning away, she said without looking at him, “Oh, yes, you never miss a chance to show me that you’re stronger than I am. I suppose you’ll drag me kicking and screaming all the way to…to wherever it is you’re taking me.”

  “Ginny, don’t make this hard on both of us. We can’t stay here forever.”

  Agitated, she began to pace the floor, moving from the window to the door which was always closed at her request, a barrier to protect her from the world, from danger.

  “Why can’t we stay here? I don’t want to leave, Steve. I don’t think…I don’t think I can!”

  After a moment of quiet, he came to her. He put a hand on her arm and kept it there even when she flinched away from him. “Ginny, I wasn’t there for you last time, but I am now. Luna is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Drawing in a ragged breath, she turned blindly toward him and felt his arms go around her, holding her against his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, his words muffled.

  “Christ, Ginny…Oh God, I don’t think you know how I regret that I wasn’t there for you. Come with me. I won’t force you if you don’t want to go now, but you have to leave here one day.”

  “Yes,” she said against his shirt, “I know. You’re right. I’ll go. I’ll go with you.”

  It was late in the afternoon the day they reached a trail that was little more than a thin ribbon of rock overgrown in places with bright-green moss. It looked vaguely familiar, and she frowned. It was quiet here, and dark despite the narrow thread of sunlight high overhead that insistently pierced the barrier of rock and thickly intertwined branches.

  Leaves brushed her face. The silence was dense and heavy, as if a curtain had been drawn over the world. There was only a faint trickling sound, distant, musical, as if all other sound had been absorbed by the lush growth of trees and vines.

  As they rounded a bend in the trail, she knew suddenly where they were—back at the falls that plunged from high rock into the clear, cool basin below. The noise burst upon them like fiesta fireworks, sudden and deafening.

  “Steve—?” Her voice was smothered by the noise of the falls, but he turned in his saddle to look at her. His blue eyes were remote beneath his long lashes.

  “We need a place to stay for a while. It’s safe here. I don’t want you to worry, and I need to stay out of sight for a few weeks.”

  His tone was soothing, as if he were talking to a child.

  She was quiet for a moment, ducking a branch as they rode down the wooded trail. The drowning remnants of apathy began to lift, buoyed by hope. It was secluded here, a paradise refuge from not only the world, but her own dark memories.

  They rode down the steep decline into the rocky basin formed by a volcano thousands of years before, their silence demanded by the very thunder of falling water crashing over the high black rocks to the pool below. Cascades formed by dozens of smaller rocks made a lacy veil of froth and spume that dampened the air so that Ginny’s hair curled gently against her cheeks.

  Oddly, it was warm here, when the water should have made it cool. Perhaps it was because towering, jagged rocks held warmth from the sunlight that glittered on the water. Tiny rainbows arced, forming bridges across the swirling pool.

  To Ginny, the falls represented a time of great contentment. She drew in a deep breath. She was glad they had come back here, where they had enjoyed each other before, like two carefree children. Whatever happened, she would always have those memories.

  36

  Cascading water had become a constant, soothing sound that blotted out everything else close to the pool. Ginny moved downstream a bit, slipping a little on the slick surface of rocks worn smooth by centuries of water currents washing over them. Her feet were bare; she wore the loose garments of a peon, a billowing camisa and baggy pants that reached her ankles.

  Peace dwelled within this timeless valley where no one else came except birds and small mammals that peeked curiously from behind fallen logs or tangled vines. It was remote and hidden, a sanctuary from the world.

  I feel like Eve, Ginny thought with a faint sad smile, after she was tricked into eating the apple.

  Earlier, Steve had climbed one of the rock walls, scaling it with practiced agility while she watched. Bright sunlight had gleamed on the bare skin of his back and shoulders until he had disappeared into the brush that clung in a ragged fringe to the ledge. Ginny had watched with idle curiosity.

  It was much easier to think of him with detachment now. To think of him any other way was too painful. Oh God, was it all ruined? Would she ever be able to forget all that had happened?

  There was an agreement between them at the moment, a silently acknowledged pact that they would wait until the moment was right to discuss what their future held once they left this valley.

  It was a tentative peace, fragile and uncertain. At night when they sat across the fire from one another, Ginny wondered what he was thinking, if he hated her for what Luna had done, if she disgusted him now. Despite his careful kindness, she knew there was something he was keeping from her. He would look away at times, a muscle leaping in his clenched jaw, his mouth a taut, hard slash.

  Until her bruises, huge purple and yellow marks, had faded, he’d gone quiet every time he saw them. Silence was awkward between them, the courtesies strained and fractured, as if they’d become strangers again.

  Even at night, when the air was cold and invasive, they shared blankets and body heat but nothing else.

  It was difficult, lying beside him all night, listening to his deep, even breathing and feeling as if they were farther apart than ever before. Anguished, she lay in the dark and thought of what might have been, of how far they had come and how close they were to finding themselves, to finding the happiness she wanted so desperately.

  Some nights she lay awake until the sun rose steeply to banish shadows and shed light into the rocky bowl nestled beneath the waterfall.

  Was it all over? Was there no chance now?

  It seemed as if everything she touched dissolved, even while she was trying so hard to keep it. But Steve had been right about coming here, for the past week had made her feel safe at last, tucked away from the world.

  But tonight, there was a difference. It was subtle, a lessening of Steve’s detachment as he regarded her across the fire. “You look tired, Ginny. Your skin has that peachy gold color that I’ve always liked, though. It makes your eyes look even more green.”

  Cradling a bowl of stew—it was best not to ask what kind of meat it was, and she much preferred not to know what he had caught in this dense wilderness—she regarded him with a solemn, unblinking gaze.

  “I like to lie on the rock and feel the sun warm me. At times, it feels as if I cannot get warm enough, as if…as if I’m cold and empty inside.”

  “Are you?” A black brow slanted upward. Firelight was reflected in the deep blue of his eyes, leaping. “Are you cold and empty inside, Ginny?”

  “I—I don’t know anymore. It seems that every time I—we—try to salvage something of ourselves, we’re driven apart. Oh, Steve, I don’t know if I can take much more! I want to…to run away, and yet at the same time I want to hold on to you with all my strength.”

  Pausing for breath, she waited when he lapsed into silence, regarding her with unreadable eyes, his gaze betraying nothing of what he was thinking. The fire popped and crackled, and the stew slowly cooled as she sat quietly, nerves on edge a
nd heart pounding furiously, waiting for his response.

  Finally he said, in the familiar monotone she heard most often since he had rescued her from Luna, “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

  Ginny’s hope dissolved as quickly as it had ignited, turning into a leaden acceptance. Irrelevantly, she thought suddenly of the time Steve had lost his memory, when he had looked through her as if he didn’t know her at all. Was that the way he felt about her now? As if she were a stranger?

  A brisk wind sprang up, and they both crawled into the lean-to shelter Steve had built; huge leaves formed the top layer of the roof, and the windblown water made a rhythmic pattering melody. It was mesmerizing, a soothing lullaby.

  In the distance, the high-pitched scream of a mountain lion pierced the night shadows. When she jerked, Steve put a hand on her shoulder.

  “A mountain cat,” he muttered sleepily.

  “Yes. I realize that now. It just…startled me.”

  He moved beside her, and the warmth of his body and drowsy assurance brought a sudden surge of yearning that was so powerful it left her breathless, dispelling the sense of lassitude that had gripped her for so long. Her heart clutched painfully as she dredged up her barriers. No, it could hurt to be vulnerable again, to allow herself to feel.

  But he rolled over, one hand reaching out to slide along the length of her arm, slowly, as if stroking a tame cat. Ginny stiffened, but before she could move, Steve bent swiftly, his mouth finding hers in the dark, dense shadows.

  It was so familiar, so achingly familiar for him to kiss her. But these kisses were gentle, not the almost harsh kisses of her experience with him, and oddly unsettling.

  Ginny clung to him tightly, her fingers spreading over his bare back, feeling the familiar play of muscles under his scarred skin, the heat of his body so close to her…

  But when he touched her intimately, a shock of searing fear blotted out the passion she felt, and she was suddenly screaming, pushing him away, her entire body trembling from head to toe.

  “Don’t! I can’t bear for you to touch me! Oh God, just don’t touch me!”

  “Ginny—”

  “No! Oh God, no!” It was a sob, a plea. Revulsion and misery clogged her throat and tears spilled from her eyes.

  “It’s all right, Ginny,” he said in the same soft tone that she was growing to hate. “It’s all right.”

  “No! It’s not all right! Don’t you see? I’m ruined! I can’t feel what I should feel. I don’t feel anything but fear, shame for what’s happened to me….” Her breath caught in a half sob of anguish. “And I feel that it was partly my fault, that I should have somehow been able to stop him, to get away from him.” Sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth in the dense black night that hid her. “You’ll never know what it feels like to be degraded like that, to be forced to submit to things that no one should endure—”

  “Ginny, I understand.”

  “No, you don’t! How could you? How could you know what it’s like to feel so helpless, to know that you’ve done your best to escape and it’s still not good enough?”

  “I know.” There was a peculiar note in his voice. “I know more than you think.”

  Shivering, she shook her head, copper strands of hair sticking to the wet tear tracks on her face. “No, I don’t think you could…”

  “Did you choose to be with Luna?”

  “No! Oh, how can you even suggest it—”

  “I’m not suggesting it, Ginny. I’m pointing out that you had no choice in the matter. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I know how it is to feel powerless? I was chained in the dark like an animal, treated worse than an animal at times. I know what it feels like to be forced to the brink of madness.”

  “That’s not the way it was—Oh God, it was worse than being chained…” She choked on a half sob, shuddering.

  “No? Then tell me how it was, Ginny. If that’s not the way it was for you, explain it to me so I’ll understand.”

  She pressed her face against arms that were folded over her drawn-up knees and rocked in silent misery. She tried to form the words, tried to put into coherent phrases how the nightmare had returned to haunt her, all the memories of those long-ago days as a soldadera returning so sharply, the degradation like a knife in her soul.

  Panting, heartsick, Ginny lifted her head at last, her frustration thick in her throat. “You have no idea what it is to be a woman, to be a thing paraded on a man’s arm, to be forced to do things you never dreamed existed and be unable to escape…no, you’re a man used to taking what you want, doing what you want, and you have no idea what it is to be so helpless, to be so frightened of what will be done to you next that all you can do is obey like a trained dog whenever fingers are snapped. You will never, never understand because no one has ever done that to you! You’ve no idea what it is to be touched when and how you don’t want to be touched, or the shame of having your body exposed to the eyes of a man you hate. God, it makes me sick to think of it!”

  Breathless, sobbing now, she was barely aware that he had sat back on his heels and was staring at her, his eyes a pale gleam in the shadows. The night was filled with the sound of falling water and the thunder of her own heartbeat.

  “Maybe I understand more than you think, Ginny.”

  It was said so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, but the words lingered somehow, an offering and a confession.

  He laughed, a hollow sound. “I never told you—never told anyone—but in the prison where Devereaux sent me, there was a doctor…He’s dead now. I wish I had been the one to kill him, but someone else he tormented had that particular pleasure. He made me feel the way you just described…as if I were a thing to be used for his own gratification. He used to taunt me, bring me into his office where he sat behind a white linen tablecloth spread with hot food and wine, knowing that if I’d had anything at all to eat, it was not enough, just scraps of moldy bread or dirty water. He tried to break me down in other ways, as well. I know what it is to feel powerless, to be touched when and how I don’t want to be touched. To be afraid.”

  She could feel his muscles tense, feel a vibration shudder through him, hear the fury and disgust in his tone as he said, “I wasn’t as strong as you are. God! I tried to hang myself in my own chains one night…I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching me, and preferred death.”

  “Steve—”

  “No. No, Ginny, you see, I do understand more than you think. You, with your woman’s soft body and tender heart, have survived far better than I could have. You have come through it all with your soul intact. I lost mine. I gave up but survived in spite of myself. Sometimes, I find it damn hard to forgive you for being stronger than I am.”

  Trembling, she put a hand up to touch his face, her fingers skimming over the abrasive stubble of his half-grown beard, tears clogging her throat and slipping down her face as she murmured, “We can’t surrender, Steve. We have to fight, for ourselves and our children. We have to win.”

  “Ginny…” He gave a short laugh as he caught her hand in his and held her palm against his jaw. “You have the heart of a Comanche warrior in that soft woman’s body of yours. I guess I’ve been ashamed. Every time I saw your bruises and heard you whimper in your sleep, I felt the extent of my failure in keeping you safe. I let Luna ambush me in that village, was careless enough to risk you, and you suffered for my inadequacy. It was more than humbling—it was torture of a kind I’ve never felt before.”

  “Oh, Steve…” She faltered, realizing what had been behind his silences, the furtive, shamed glances he gave her. It wasn’t her humiliation that so chagrined him—it was his own.

  She drew in a deep breath, the shadows that had clouded her for so long dissipating.

  “It’s behind us now. It’s been said that if we do not acknowledge our past, we will never get beyond it. Let’s not dwell on what we can’t change, Steve, only what we can. Please…I don’t want to spend the
rest of my life wishing for what I’ll never have.”

  “Ginny—I don’t know. I don’t know if either of us can forget, can live with the knowledge of what we’ve done and had done to us. It’s a lot to put behind us.”

  “If we don’t try, we’ll never know if we could have done it, Steve.” Her fingers moved to touch his jaw. “Give me some time. Give us some time.”

  After a moment of long silence, he said softly, “We can try.”

  A dying ember popped in the fire, slowly turning to gray ash, but neither Steve nor Ginny noticed.

  He held her all night, an arm draped over her body, her spine pressed into the angle of his chest and thighs. He didn’t try to touch her again, but the weight of him at her back was reassuring. She slept that night without dreaming, without waking in fear, slept in Steve’s arms where she was safe.

  37

  How many days had they spent here, dwelling in this enchanted valley that was so far away from the rest of the world? Ginny lost track of time, drifting in a confusing haze of peace and passivity.

  It was warmer now, the sun a burning orb above. She went frequently to her favorite spot to sunbathe, lulled to serenity by the steady melody of water against the rocks, a fine mist diffusing the heat of the sun on her face.

  Once, she would have lain atop the mossy rock without her clothes, but not anymore. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable. Now she remained covered from neck to ankle in the loose peasant garments. The restrictions of proper society that she had once chafed against were now harshly self-imposed.

  “You look like a Mexican peon,” Steve said one evening as high peaks cupping the valley slowly swallowed the sun. A soft hazy light lingered, tinting the world in rose and saffron. His eyes narrowed slightly, his mouth curled into a rakish smile as he regarded her attire. “I remember when you once preferred going about like a bare-breasted Amazon.”

  “I’m sure you do. But that was a long time ago.”

  “Not so long. You wore more in that scandalous painting that the Prince of Wales purchased. No wonder he urged you to remain in London instead of accompany your husband to Mexico.”