A Love Like This

by Diana Palmer

  “You miracle, you,” he breathed. “Roll over. I want to look at you while I dress.”

  She did, smiling at him, watching him open drawers and the closet and get into jeans and a chambray shirt. “It’s even exciting to watch you put clothes on,” she confessed, laughing.

  “I’d rather watch you with yours off, angel,” he murmured, bending to brush hungry kisses on her breasts. “I want you all the time, lately. It’s all I can do to stop.” He lifted his head, searching her eyes. “You flinched a little that last time,” he said gently. “It wasn’t comfortable, and you should have told me in time. I’ll leave you alone until you’re sure it won’t be an ordeal instead of a pleasure.”

  “You’re very perceptive,” she murmured.

  “You’re very generous,” he whispered. “So eager to please me, to put my desire first. But that isn’t what I want. It gives me no pleasure unless you share it.”

  “Oh, but I want to give you everything, to make it sweet for you,” she said fervently. “I don’t care what I feel—”

  He stopped her tirade with his mouth, smiling against it. “I care. Come on downstairs when you’re dressed, and I’ll take you for a nice, comfortable ride in the Lincoln. No horseback riding just yet.” He grinned, and she flushed.

  “Okay.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, studying her over it. An innocent, and with all her inhibitions, and yet she’d given herself to him with wild abandon. She cared more than a little; he was almost sure she loved him. That thought was sweetly disturbing. Could she? He looked at her hungrily. All night, and still he wanted her. She was under his skin, driving him mad. Bess and his problems with her had faded to insignificance. Whatever he and Elissa had, it was something far removed from lust or infatuation. He wanted to take care of her, to be there when she cried. He sighed softly. What was he going to do about Bess? Or did he need to do anything, now that he was marrying Elissa? He thought about marrying Elissa and smiled slowly. She’d be in his bed every night, making magic with him. His chest began to swell.

  She saw that look and smiled at him. “Don’t feel guilty,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t you?” he asked quietly.

  “Not in the least,” she said, ignoring her conscience.

  “Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about guilt,” he confessed. “I was wondering if you loved me,” he added bluntly, watching her flush. “Somehow, I don’t think you’d be able to give yourself to a man you didn’t love. You’re not the type.” He touched her cheek, teasing her face up to his. “Don’t hide it,” he whispered, finding the evidence of love in her face wildly pleasing, exciting. His breath caught in his throat, and he wondered why it should suddenly matter so much that she loved him. “That was why you were so uninhibited, wasn’t it?” he asked slowly. “That was why I gave you pleasure the first time. And you did enjoy it.”

  “More than you’ll ever know,” she confessed. “Do you mind?”

  He shook his head. “You’re very special to me.”

  “Even when we aren’t lovers anymore,” she began, her eyes wide and worried, “will you still be my friend?”

  That hurt. He sat down and lifted her across his knees, cuddling her close. “My God,” he ground out, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “You little fool. You don’t have some crazy idea that I was just satisfying a whim last night, do you?”

  “I hoped it wasn’t that.”

  “I’m going to marry you,” he whispered. “This isn’t a one-night stand. For God’s sake, Elissa, you’re part of me now.”

  She trembled a little at the urgency in his voice, at his warmth and fervency. She turned her mouth against his throat and kissed him. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I don’t want thanks.” He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his expression both thrilling and puzzling. His dark gaze went over her slowly, lingering on her breasts. “I’m more old-fashioned than I realized,” he said unexpectedly. “If you ever let another man touch you like I did, I’d break his neck!”

  “Well!” she gasped, but his mouth covered hers fiercely, blotting out the world.

  “You’re my woman,” he whispered against her responsive lips. “You belong to me. We’re going to get married and enjoy each other for the next eighty years or so.”

  Her arms linked around his neck, and she savored the pressure of his mouth for a long, spinning minute until he finally satisfied his hunger and lifted his head.

  “Get dressed,” he whispered. “I can’t take much more of that without laying you down and ravishing you again.”

  She smiled softly. “I adore you.”

  “I adore you,” he whispered. He smiled at her, new to possession, new to that look in her eyes, that total fulfillment his loving had given her. It made him proud that he could fulfill her, that he’d done it her first time.

  “You look smug,” she mentioned.

  He dumped her onto the bed, looming over her to press a hard kiss on her mouth. “I feel smug. Now get up.”

  “Yes, Your Worship.”

  He glanced at her on his way out the door and smiled again as he closed it behind him. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt so pleased with himself, so satiated with happiness that he felt as if he could do anything.

  She dressed quickly, taking time to sneak down the hall to her room and mess up her bed—only to find that he’d already done it. She smiled to herself as she went downstairs, wrapped in the sweet illusion of loving and being loved.

  He was sipping coffee when she got to the kitchen, and his eyes when they met hers were dark with acquisition. His chin rose, all male arrogance in the smile he gave her. His eyes ran down her body with remembered possession, and they kindled like dusky fires.

  She tingled all over as she joined him, her mouth softening at his welcoming kiss.

  “Here,” he whispered.

  She opened her eyes to find him sliding a solitary emerald onto her ring finger. It was in a delicate antique filigree setting, and a perfect fit. She caught her breath, her eyes searching, questioning his.

  “It belonged to my grandmother,” he said, his face solemn. “You can give it to our eldest son...”

  “King.” Tears fell like rain from her eyes. She went into his arms, trembling all over. If only she could stop wondering if it might be guilt and a sense of responsibility that had led to this. She knew he didn’t love her, although he was fond of her and he did enjoy her body. But maybe in time he might learn to love her. She clung to him. “I love you so much,” she said shakily, her eyes closed so that she missed the delight on his dark face. “So much.”

  He held her, his expression one of contentment, rocking her softly against him. God, she was soft. Sweet. Deliciously female. She smelled of flowers, and he wanted to hold her all day. She felt just right in his arms. He smiled, closing his eyes.

  “Now, ain’t that pretty?” Margaret sighed from the doorway, smiling benevolently at both of them.

  “Look,” Elissa said tearfully, sitting on King’s lap to extend her slender finger with the emerald ring on it.

  “Glory be!” Margaret exclaimed. “We really are having a wedding!”

  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” King said affectionately.

  “I’ll go tell Ben.” Margaret grinned and walked away.

  Elissa was just starting to speak when the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” he said as he set her on her feet. He walked into the hall and picked up the receiver, listened for a minute and took a sharp breath. “What the hell was he doing on it in the first place?” he demanded. “No, honey, don’t, don’t. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. Listen, sweetheart, you just sit tight, you hear? I’ll be right there. Everything will be all right. I’m on my way.”

  He hung up and dug into his pocket for his car keys. “Bobby’s been thrown
from a horse,” he said tersely. “Bess came in last night, and they went riding together this morning. He’s got a concussion and a broken leg, at least. I’ll have to go to the hospital, honey. Bess was pretty upset. She needs me.”

  Elissa just sat there, stunned, as he turned away without another word. She watched him rush out the door, on his way to Bess, without a backward glance toward the woman he’d just asked to marry him. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears start. If this was a glimpse of the future, she’d just looked straight into hell.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MARGARET CAME BACK minutes later to find Elissa cupping her hands around a cup of cold coffee, a look of utter defeat on her face.

  “Where’s he gone?” the older woman asked curtly.

  “Bobby was thrown from a horse,” Elissa said quickly, looking up. “He’s got a broken leg and a concussion. King’s gone to the hospital.”

  Margaret whistled. “I knew it would happen one day.” She shook her head. “Bobby isn’t a rider, for all he keeps trying. Will he be all right?”

  “Bess didn’t say, apparently,” she faltered.

  The older woman sat down, staring at Elissa. “That young madam has too much time on her hands and not enough husband,” she said bluntly. “I’ve known both them boys for a long time—watched them fuss and fight and grow into men. Bobby’s too eaten up trying to compete with his half brother to be the man he could be. All business, even when he comes to dinner over here. Bess sits there watching him so sadly, and he doesn’t see her at all. I understand why he’s doing it, mind you, but Bess isn’t the kind of woman a man should treat that way. God knows she had a hard enough life, what with her family.”

  Margaret was good for half an hour on that subject. By the time she got through the alcoholic father and eternally pregnant mother and the abject poverty Bess had grown up in, Elissa felt sorrier for the blonde than she’d ever dreamed she could. But King had gone running when Bess needed him, and that fact stood out above all the rest. Was he simply sorry for Bess and protective of her, or was it something more?

  “You don’t mind that he went to see about Bobby?” Margaret asked suddenly.

  “Oh, heavens, no!” Elissa said. “I would have gone, too, if he’d asked me.” She shrugged, biting back tears. “I guess he was thinking that Bess would need some support.”

  Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “Bess loves Bobby,” she said quietly. “Sometimes she may flirt with other men, but that’s all it ever is. And Kingston asked you to marry him, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but that was because we—” Elissa looked up wildly and bit her lip. Her face grew suddenly hot as Margaret pursed her lips and lifted an eyebrow. “Because he knows I’m in love with him,” she amended quickly. “He feels guilty.”

  “Good. I raised him to have a conscience,” she said curtly. “That’s right, I was with his mama since he was just a boy. What morals he’s got, I put there, no thanks to her. I took over where his dad left off. Poor old fellow, he couldn’t take her everlasting roving eye. He was a good man.”

  Elissa studied her silently. “Is his father still alive?”

  Margaret smiled gently. “Very much alive. He’s in a nursing home in Phoenix—a good one. We correspond, and I tell him all the news about once a month.”

  “Oh, shouldn’t you tell King?” she asked worriedly.

  “Honey, Kingston would go crazy. He thinks his father deserted him, and he’s never wanted anything to do with him. I wouldn’t dare confess what I’ve been doing.”

  “But his father will die one day,” Elissa argued.

  “It’s not my place to say anything,” Margaret replied. She searched Elissa’s pained eyes. “You could, though. He might listen to you.”

  Elissa laughed weakly. “I wonder.” She stared at the emerald ring on her finger. It felt cold, an empty gesture to appease his guilt, to satisfy his sense of responsibility. Her eyes closed. Last night it had all seemed worth it. In the cold light of reality, with her mind back in control of her body, it seemed wrong. How could she have done it?

  It had been a last desperate gamble, she thought miserably. To make him so enslaved that he’d get over Bess. But it hadn’t worked. Bess was still number one in his thoughts. It seemed that she always would be.

  “If you want him, fight for him,” Margaret said gruffly. “You’ve got an advantage she doesn’t. He likes you. All he really feels for her is pity and some leftover affection. She was like a child when she and Bobby got married. Kingston helped her over those first few quarrels.”

  Elissa studied her slender fingers. “Liking isn’t enough.”

  “Neither is pity,” Margaret said, and got up. “Now, you eat a good breakfast. We’ve got to build up your strength. If Bobby stays in the hospital for any length of time, we’ll probably have ourselves a houseguest.”

  With a sinking feeling, Elissa watched Margaret’s broad back disappear. She hadn’t considered that King might bring Bess here. But on second thought, of course he would. And what a perfect opportunity for Bess to get through his defenses. And what in the world was Elissa going to do to prevent it?

  Sure enough, a few hours later, King came in with a weeping, pale Bess in tow. Bess was still in jodhpurs, gloriously sexy in the expensive silk blouse she wore opened to the deep cleavage between her breasts. Her honey-blond hair was in a delicious tangle around her shoulders, and she was clinging to King as if he were a lifeline.

  “I’ll take her upstairs,” King said, glancing at Elissa. “Call Margaret to help her undress, would you? Have you got a nightgown she can borrow?”

  “Yes, of course,” Elissa said dully, following them. “How’s Bobby?”

  “He’ll be all right,” he said, his arm protective around his sister-in-law. “His leg’s broken, and he’s got a hell of a headache, but he’ll be out in a few days.”

  “Thank God.” Elissa sighed. But nobody seconded that, least of all the two people in front of her.

  She had only two nightgowns with her, but she spared the blue one for the opposition. Margaret gave it a sinister look as she carried it into the second guest bedroom to the tearful blonde.

  Elissa slowly wandered back downstairs. Margaret was getting Bess some soup, and King, forgoing all the pressing business he’d been attending to without a thought to Elissa’s lack of company, was proving he had all the time in the world for Bess. And why not? Elissa thought miserably. He loved Bess.

  King ate his supper on a tray in Bess’s room, to Margaret’s blatant fury, leaving Elissa to eat alone or with the housekeeper.

  “Idiot!” Margaret flared as she put a bowl of stew in front of Elissa. “Blind man!”

  “Don’t start feeling sorry for me,” Elissa murmured. “I went into this with my eyes open. Nobody dragged me here. On the other hand,” she added quietly, staring at the empty symbol on her ring finger, “I think I might see about a flight back to Miami. I’m only going to be in the way here.”

  “You can’t go,” Margaret huffed. “If you do, they’ll be here alone, and I won’t have that kind of gossip.” She glared at Elissa. “Your parents wouldn’t appreciate your doing that kind of thing, either. No, ma’am, you’re stuck. I’m sorry, but there isn’t a thing you can do and still live with your conscience.”

  Ah, Elissa thought, but you don’t know what I’m already living with. You haven’t a clue. But she didn’t say it. Conventions or no conventions, she was getting out of there. If she didn’t, seeing King and Bess together was going to kill her. She was brave but not suicidal. Her heart was already breaking.

  King still hadn’t come out of Bess’s bedroom when Elissa went upstairs. Gritting her teeth, she looked in the door, which Margaret had apparently left open.

  King was sitting beside the bed, holding hands with a radiant Bess, and they were talking about Bobby. Elissa felt sick all the way to her toes just looking,
and then she heard what they were saying.

  “I feel so guilty,” Bess was saying. “But I couldn’t help it, Kingston. You know how he treats me. I’m so alone. He’s never going to change, we both know that.”

  “The horse was a stallion. I’ve warned him not to try to ride it,” he told her.

  “But it was because I told him I wanted a divorce,” Bess burst out, and Elissa felt her blood run cold. “Oh, Kingston, I can’t go on living with a man who doesn’t love me anymore. It’s so much worse now, and when I’m with you—”

  Elissa knocked abruptly on the door; she couldn’t bear to hear any more, and it would look as if she were eavesdropping if she waited any longer. They both jerked around, looking stunned by her unexpected appearance.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked Bess, schooling her voice and face to show nothing but polite interest and friendliness.

  Bess moved restlessly and pulled her hand from King’s. “Oh, I—I’m feeling much better, thank you,” she stammered. Her face colored. “I’d forgotten you were staying here.”

  “Under the circumstances, that’s quite understandable,” Elissa said gently, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry about Bobby, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “They’ll let him go home in a few days, they said.” Bess sighed, then grimaced. “Back to his papers and business calls. He was already raving because they wouldn’t let him have a telephone.”

  Elissa hesitated, unable to look at King. “Well, take care. I’ll say good-night.”

  She went out, feeling her heart breaking inside, and stiffened when she heard King murmur something to Bess and follow her. She stood in front of her door, waiting for him, her back carefully straight.

  “I’m glad she’s going to be all right,” she said, smiling, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was just as she’d predicted when she’d said back in Florida that she wouldn’t marry him. She’d said that Bess might be free one day, and now it was going to happen. Elissa had represented an urge he couldn’t control, but now she was an embarrassment, an obstacle. She stared down at the ring on her finger and knew how he felt and what he was thinking. If only he’d waited a few hours...