Words of Silk

by Sandra Brown

  “You promised,” Laney said accusingly as she sat down on the couch, totally spent.

  “I promised not to unpack and I haven’t.” Deke seated himself beside her on the sofa and patted his thighs. “Put your feet up here.”

  Because she was too tired to argue and wanted to relieve the swelling in her feet and ankles anyway, she leaned back and raised her feet to his lap. He unzipped her boots and pulled them off and began to massage her feet with adept fingers.

  The house had been cleared of people. Somehow Deke had effected that in an amazingly short period of time while she watched, feeling utterly useless.

  “I’ll build another fire tonight and you can toast your toes on the hearth. Your feet are freezing again. Just like they were last night in bed. But we warmed them up, didn’t we?” He dragged a seductive finger down her high arch.

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said, trying to extricate her foot from his hands and failing to. “Deke, you practically redesigned my house today.”

  “I bought you a new bed with a firm mattress guaranteed for ten years and had a new dishwasher with every conceivable option installed. It has a three-year service contract. Tell me what’s wrong with all that.”

  “What will the landlady say?”

  “That the dishwasher stays when you move. Otherwise she was delighted with the improvement.”

  “And the car and Mrs. Thomas?”

  “Consider the car one of your Christmas presents. And I hired Mrs. Thomas as much for me as for you.”

  “But that’s just it,” she said, snatching her feet from his hands and sitting upright. “You won’t be here that long.” She stood up and crossed to the window, folding her arms beneath her bosom and hugging her elbows with her hands. It had become necessary to put as much space between them as possible. When she was close to him she relaxed, and when she relaxed . . .

  “You have to leave. Today.” When he didn’t respond but remained silent behind her, she continued. “I truly appreciate your concern for me. I certainly didn’t expect it from you in this era of sexual freedom. I didn’t expect you to care what happened to either me or the child. I accept full responsibility for that night in New York, including the responsibility of rearing my child alone.”

  “That’s unfair of you, Laney. He’s my child too. Despite my marital status, I have a great respect for family, tradition, having an heir, that type of old-fashioned thing. Sexual freedom and responsibilities be damned. None of that has anything to do with why I’m here.”

  A deep breath did little to relieve her qualms about the subject she must broach. “I’ve thought about your relationship to the baby. Quite a lot, as a matter of fact. It would be unfair to keep the child from knowing you and . . . and you from knowing him. So I’m willing to let you visit often. When the child is older and can leave home, he can come see you.” The words cost her dearly and she almost choked on them. Clearing her throat loudly, she went to her purse and took out the document she had deliberated over.

  “I wrote down what I think will be a fair arrangement. Look it over and let me know what you think. I’ll be happy to discuss it with you.” She extended the paper to him, then returned to her place at the window and waited tensely.

  After five long minutes of silence she heard the sound of tearing paper and turned to see him neatly ripping the document she had so painstakingly written out. “Oh,” she cried out in anger. “That was a fair proposal for all of us, Deke. For the child too.”

  “You miss the point, Laney.” Getting up, he came toward her with what looked like a predator’s determination. He slid one arm around her waist and hauled her close. At the same time he tangled the fingers of his other hand in the hair at her nape and brought her face close to his. “The point was not to badger you into giving me visiting rights. And it wasn’t to threaten you with taking the child away from you. Dammit! What kind of a monster do you take me for? What have I ever done to make you think you would have to protect yourself, your child—my child—from me?”

  “You took advantage of a weakness once before.”

  “Perhaps I did,” he confessed roughly.

  “I’ll never let you do it again.”

  His mouth was a grim, hard line, but his eyes were fiery. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I want you in my life. Did you think I could just let you disappear after that night, Laney? Didn’t you know I would seek you out, leave no stone unturned until I found you? Long before I knew about the baby, I was determined to find you and make you mine permanently.”

  “But—”

  “Shut up and listen to me,” he said sternly, and brought her mouth closer to his so that she could feel each word as a puff of breath against her lips before it fell on her ears. “Didn’t you know you were different? Didn’t you know that after all the women I’ve been with—and I’m not bragging or trying to impress you, but merely stating a fact I’m not too proud of—I would see that difference—feel it? I did and I couldn’t forget it. What happened between us that night was right, Laney. So right that I knew I had never had that kind of experience before. And from it came a child. Our child.”

  “It was an accident.” She struggled against the turmoil of her emotions. One part of her reveled in what he was saying and wanted to savor every word. The other told her not to listen, to be wary, to remain inviolate. “We were caught up in unusual circumstances that could never be matched.”

  “We’re not caught up in anything now. There’s no blackout, no claustrophobia, no hysteria, no brandy. It’s the middle of the afternoon and the sun is shining. If it was all an accident, why do I want you now more than ever?”

  He positioned himself so that she couldn’t ignore the strength of his desire. His masculinity pressed hard against her and every erogenous part of her body responded to its message.

  “You want me because of the baby. That’s all,” she said.

  His mouth was a magical tormentor that left burning kisses over her lips and cheeks and chin. “This has nothing to do with the baby,” he growled and rubbed himself against her. “Now, stop all this foolishness and kiss me.”

  Uttering one last ragged moan, she let her mouth be fused to his with a searing heat. His lips twisted over hers as his tongue plowed between her teeth. His kiss created a heat that spilled into her veins and spread through her body like honey, melting the most steadfast of her inhibitions and objections. She fell victim again to that debilitating weakness, a delicious lassitude, that only his embraces elicited.

  A wanton sound purred out of her throat as her arms instinctively went around him. He sighed into her mouth. “Yes, Laney. Don’t hold back. Trust me. Come to me as you did that night.”

  His kiss was gentle on her swollen lips. His mouth whispered devilishly until she was whipped into a frenzy of need. When she anxiously called his name, he made love to her mouth with a bold tongue.

  “Oh, Lord,” she sighed minutes later as his tongue bathed her upper lip with the dew of their kiss. “Why do you do this to me?”

  He chose to misunderstand. “Because you’re gorgeous and young and fresh. Because you’re beautiful to look at and delightful to touch and luscious to taste. Because once you held me deep inside you and now my baby is there.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. But those are facts just the same.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered. Even his breath against her flesh was a caress. Her head was thrown back in shameless abandon.

  Her dress was hunter green with a cream-colored collar. It buttoned down the front with pearl buttons and hung straight with only a slight A-line flair to flatter her maternal figure. During that breathy conversation his hands had worked several of the buttons free.

  But when he slid his hand inside and fondled her nylon-covered breast, the delirium of the moment shattered and Laney went rigid in his arms. “No,” she protested fearfully, though she didn’t try to escape his embrace.

  His words were gently pe
rsuading. “Laney, there’s nothing wrong with lovers caressing each other.”

  “We’re not lovers.”

  “Yes we are. You’re carrying my child. I’ve touched you much more intimately than this.” He kissed her mouth softly. “I want to touch you, to put my hand against your sweet breast.”

  “You can’t,” she protested weakly. His hand felt so good and warm as his fingers curved around the full globe.

  “I already did. Last night. I kissed you. Here.” His thumb lightly teased the nipple and it hardened responsively. “Touched you with my tongue.” She stifled a groan against his shirtfront, which was warm and vibrant and smelled of him. She could feel the texture of the hair covering his skin. “All I’m asking now is to touch you. Last night it was dark and we were under covers. I want to touch you in the daylight, to see my hands on you. To see yours on me.”

  He was nuzzling her neck with his nose and mouth, flicking her ear with his tongue. But the caresses weren’t frightening. Indeed, they seemed to alleviate her fears.

  Her whole body awakened to new sensations, sensations she had felt but once before. Vague and nebulous then, they now rushed to the forefront of her mind, and she selfishly, almost frantically, wanted to experience them again before they vanished. Her breasts felt full and heavy, and it wasn’t from pregnancy. Her nipples strained against her brassiere and tingled with longing, begging his fingers not to desert them.

  When Deke’s lips maneuvered hers apart and the tip of his tongue darted into her mouth, the last vestiges of hesitation fell away. Tension ebbed out of her and her whole body flowed against his. He felt the change immediately and he rumbled approval.

  “Sweetheart, you never have to fear me. Never.”

  At that moment she didn’t think so either. Her hands slipped inside his shirt collar and went behind his neck. She bowed her body against his, harboring his male hardness in the soft hollow of her femininity. What happened to her each time she was with him, why she responded to this man and no other, she couldn’t say. She didn’t have an answer and didn’t want to search for one as his mouth mated with hers and his hand slipped inside the cup of her brassiere to reward her flesh with the feel of his palm and fingertips against it.

  Then gradually he withdrew. His hand settled over her breast in loving possession before he replaced the lacy bra and lifted his mouth from hers. As he peered into her eyes he rebuttoned her dress. Her eyes were eloquent with an unspoken question.

  “This is a learning process,” he answered quietly, grazing her lips softly with his. “I’m teaching you to trust me, taking one step at a time.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And both I and the zipper on my pants have undergone just about as much stress as we can in the course of this lesson.”

  She blushed furiously and ducked her head. He laughed and hugged her tight, rocking back and forth. “You’re adorable. Here you are, almost seven months pregnant, and your modesty would make one think you’d never been with a man.”

  “I barely remember it.”

  He pushed her away from him and forced her to meet his eyes. His finger outlined the shape of her bottom lip, which was still throbbing and full from their recent kisses. “You remember,” he slurred.

  Then, with an abrupt change of mood, he pointed her in the direction of the bedroom, swatted her bottom and said, “Go change into something comfortable while I dish up the pot roast.”

  The light mood lasted through the excellent dinner Mrs. Thomas had left in the oven for them. After the dishes were done, they went out and bought a Christmas tree off the Optimist club lot. Laney declared that it was too large for the house and Deke dubbed her a Scrooge, a name that seemed even more fitting when he learned she didn’t have any decorations. He practically bought out the variety store’s stock of lights, balls and tinsel.

  The next several days were like none other in Laney’s life. Deke insisted that he bring her breakfast in bed every morning. He pampered her to the point of being ridiculous. Over her protests he instructed her on the use of all the gadgets in the new station wagon.

  “Why should I learn to drive this mechanical Disneyland? You’re taking it back when you return to New York.”

  “No one keeps a car in Manhattan.”

  “What about that one?” She pointed a finger at the Cadillac.

  “I leased that in Tulsa while I was running all over the city, looking for you.”

  That shut her up and she conceded to drive the new car. Besides, her old one had mysteriously disappeared, and dynamite wouldn’t blast its whereabouts out of Deke.

  They shopped for things for the baby and bought a new bedspread for the king-size bed. Meticulous to the last detail, Deke had ordered linens and blankets, which had been delivered along with it.

  “It was so nice of you to leave choosing the bedspread to me,” Laney said sarcastically.

  He swooped down on her mouth and met it with a resounding kiss that caused other shoppers to stop and stare. “I love your mouth when it pouts like that.”

  Self-conscious about the amused attention they were attracting, she muttered out of the side of her mouth, “Remind me not to pout again.”

  “I’ll only find some other reason to kiss you.”

  Whenever they were out, he treated her like a piece of rare porcelain that might break at any moment. His arm was always around her, his hand under her elbow. He besieged her with questions about her well-being.

  “Are you getting tired? . . . Is your back beginning to ache? . . . Are your ankles swelling again? I intend to ask Dr. Taylor about that.”

  She had given up demanding that he leave. She couldn’t even justify her decision to let him stay. All she knew was that her cozy house was cozier now with his masculine clutter about. She liked the scent of his cologne lingering in the bathroom and on the bed linens. She even liked his salty, tangy smell when he came in from jogging or playing racquetball. It was foreign to her, this blatant maleness, but she found that she had no aversion to it. She liked the noise he made when he was dressing in the bedroom, as well as the silences they shared while they watched television or read side by side in front of the fire.

  The days passed with a kind of lazy peacefulness that was new to her. He didn’t pursue a sexual relationship and she was too confused to define her feelings about that. He rarely touched her but for an affectionate kiss or gesture of courtesy. Each night in the wide bed he held her against him and commiserated when the baby wouldn’t let her sleep, but he didn’t initiate lovemaking. She had grown used to his hard body beside her, his comforting arms around her, the sound of his gentle breathing in cadence with hers.

  Necessity made for more familiarity.

  In an emergency she tapped on the bathroom door one morning. When he pulled it open, he was standing with only a towel wrapped around his middle. Water was still beaded like diamonds on the luxuriant hair on his chest. His gray hair had been dryed with only a towel and clung damply to his head.

  “What is it? Never mind,” he said, holding up both hands, palms turned out. “I know.” He quickly vacated the bathroom for her.

  When she came out, his back was to her as he stood in front of the bureau. He was pulling a pair of briefs up his legs. For a moment she was held spellbound by the male perfection of his body. She watched the play of muscles in his thighs and buttocks as he slipped the stretchy cotton over them. She gasped softly, but later she swore to herself that she hadn’t.

  Hearing her, he turned around. “All done? May I have the bathroom back?” She nodded vigorously and all but raced from the room, her palms wet and her heart pounding.

  She would let him stay. The decision really wasn’t hers to make, but she passed down the judgment that he could stay with her . . . only until the baby was born. She would stand firm on that. Once the child was born, he would return to New York and she would go on with her life. They would work out an arrangement to share the child.

  He could stay if he behaved himself. But she refused to gr
ow fond of or dependent on him.

  “Remind me to give Mrs. Thomas a raise. I’ve never eaten better stuffing.”

  “Around here it’s called dressing and the secret is in the amount of sage one adds,” Laney said.

  It was Christmas day and they were replete as they sat at the dining-room table. The housekeeper had come the day before and prepared everything so that all they had to do was put the meal in the oven and set the specified time on the oven timer.

  “Well, if you’re so smart, maybe I’ll save her salary and let you take over the cooking.”

  “You should do that anyway,” Laney said, standing up. She began scraping the plates and stacking them on a tray.

  Deke laughed. “No I shouldn’t, especially when you begin the next semester. I don’t suppose I can talk you into not going back.”

  Laney’s hands froze and she stared at him, horrified. “Of course not!”

  He shook his head in disgust “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Whether you think so or not, my work is important.”

  “I—”

  “I have a master’s degree I worked hard to get. I care about the children. Kindergarten is probably the most critical—”

  “Laney, I’m not arguing,” he said quietly.

  She swallowed the next segment of her tirade and said on a more reasonable note, “I like my work very much, Deke. It’s important to me. Until—” She had started to say “. . . until you . . .” but amended it. “—until the baby, that’s all I had. I’m a good teacher and want to continue teaching always.”

  “I was half teasing when I suggested that you sit out the semester, Laney. I was only thinking that it might be easier on you if you did.”

  She shook her head. “It would only make the time pass more slowly.”

  He began helping with the chore of clearing the table. “When do you go back?”

  “The day after New Year’s.”