Words of Silk

by Sandra Brown

  “Laney?”

  “Yes?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Sighing deeply, she looked at him. “All my life I blamed my father for deserting us. I grew up thinking he must have been a terrible person. But now I don’t know. He was probably just extremely unhappy. Maybe my mother didn’t love him and he knew that. Maybe he just felt trapped and had to get out or go mad.”

  “Sweetheart.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

  “I think I’ve done him a disservice. Some of the blame has to belong to him, of course, but I never once analyzed his side.”

  “You can see the situation now from an adult’s perspective.”

  “But why couldn’t I see the whole picture before? Why didn’t I realize what Mother was doing to herself? She was always so bitter. She never let herself be happy.”

  “Nor you.”

  “Nor me,” she admitted. “Why didn’t I see that and rebel?”

  “Because children instinctively love their parents. Even abused children defend the parents who abuse them.”

  “She didn’t abuse me.”

  “There are all kinds of abuse, Laney. You suffered the psychological kind. The marks your mother left on you are invisible.”

  “But you saw them,” she said quietly.

  “And we’ll work on healing them. By example you learned to guard against displays of affection. I intend to teach you otherwise.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “I’ll tell him every day how much he is loved. Hold and fondle him.” Pensively she returned her gaze to the virtually deserted highway. Only occasionally did another pair of headlights slice through the darkness. “I don’t think Mother knew she was doing anything wrong. You called me a sad lady once. She is the truly tragic figure in this piece.”

  Deke was less forgiving. “Laney, do you blame me for making you see her for what she was?”

  Her eyes were glistening as she looked across the interior of the car and said, “No, Deke. I thank you.”

  The car left the highway so quickly that at first Laney thought they had blown a tire. Deke switched on the emergency blinker and slid across the plush upholstery to take her in his arms.

  “I didn’t want to put you through that ordeal, but I had to break down the barrier I knew was there.” His hands held her face and his thumbs alternately drifted over her lips. “Consider it a kind of shock therapy.”

  She lowered her eyes. “And the other? Was that therapy too?”

  He waited to answer until she raised her eyes once again to his. “No. That was because I wanted very much to love you, and have since I came to the schoolyard that day. For twenty-seven years you’ve been deprived of loving. I wanted to give it to you in its most splendored form. It was a distinct privilege to be able to give you what you needed most.”

  He kissed her then. His tongue entered her mouth only far enough to touch the tip of hers. Laney felt the caress throughout her body because it reminded her of his lovemaking. She knew from that moment that she would always miss him when he wasn’t there. Her groan as she dragged her mouth from his wasn’t generated by passion but by a feeling of hopelessness. “Deke, you’re making me need you and I don’t want to. I’m afraid to.”

  “That’s a fear instilled by your mother. You know that now, Laney.”

  “Yes, but knowing its source doesn’t make the fear go away.”

  He hugged her hard. “We’ll hug and kiss that fear away. Get used to needing me. I intend to make myself indispensable to you. And to Scooter.” He bent his head and planted a sound kiss on her stomach.

  For the first time that day she laughed. “Is that what you’re going to call the baby once it arrives?”

  He raised his head and winked. “Only if it’s a girl.” He delighted in the rich sound of her laughter, but he wasn’t fooled. He saw the violet bruises of fatigue ringing her eyes. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

  “Exhausted.”

  He returned to his side of the car and drew her across the seat. “We’ve got a long drive. Stretch your legs out. Would you rather lie down in the backseat?”

  Her eyes wandered over his face. “No. I’d rather stay by you.”

  He made a gruff sound in his throat as he brought his mouth down to hers. This time the desire that hadn’t yet been quenched was unleashed. He kissed her hotly and deeply, his passion tempered only by his knowledge that she was tired. He regretfully raised his head and touched her dewy lips with his fingertip. “Go to sleep.”

  She nestled against him, laying her head on his shoulder. When his hand came around her and rested on her stomach, she covered it with her own.

  That night heralded a significant change in their relationship. Laney began to trust him in bits and pieces. They didn’t speak of it, but her increased trust hovered on the horizon like a glimmer of hope. Each day they drew closer to the beacon.

  She went back to teaching school the first week of January. Deke stayed busy at home. He was working on a particularly involved case and was carefully preparing his defense. Via telephone he was constantly in touch with his client and with his assistants, who were doing massive amounts of research. Nightly he pored over the briefs, making hasty notations in the margins with a furiously scrawling pen. No detail escaped him; yet, every time Laney inquired, he was vague about the date set for the trial.

  She realized how frustrating it must be for him to work in unfamiliar surroundings. “You should be in New York, shouldn’t you?”

  “I should be here with you,” he said, lifting his attention from a stack of papers he was studying.

  “You know what I mean. I’m sure these conferences with your client would be much more beneficial in person than over the telephone. You need reference books that aren’t here, so you have to wait until the next day and have someone else—”

  “I know all the problems, Laney. I save the most explicit cussing for when you’re at school.” His attempt at humor failed.

  She felt fat. She was tired of her legs cramping and her back hurting. She was tired of being bludgeoned day and night from the inside. The sight of maternity clothes made her sick to her stomach. She resented the svelte models in fashion magazines.

  Everything irritated her. The picture frame on the opposite wall was hanging crookedly and she was too apathetic to get up and straighten it. One of her pupils had broken her fingernail that day by dropping a box of crayons on it. She hated her waddling gait. And she was probably destroying a brilliant lawyer’s career.

  More than she wanted to admit, she was worried about what would happen after the baby was born. Deke would leave her. He would be tired of the game by then. And when he was gone, she would miss him. She almost wanted to hurry his departure so she wouldn’t have to dread it anymore.

  “Go back to New York, Deke, where you belong,” she said crossly. “I can’t have you sacrificing your work to stay here with me. I’ll call as soon as I feel labor pains. You can be here within hours. If you want to be. Frankly I think any man who wants to escort a blimp around is crazy.”

  He got out of his chair and squatted down beside her where she lay on the couch. He took her hand and pressed it between his. “Who would go to childbirth classes with you?”

  “You weren’t here the first six months. The instructor acted as my partner.”

  “And that battle-ax never let me forget it either,” he said smiling, remembering the first night he had gone with Laney and the severe dressing down he’d received for his prior negligence. “Dr. Taylor has appointed me deputy in charge of making sure you don’t get too tired.”

  “That’s another thing,” she said testily, snatching back her hand. She knew she was whining, she knew she was acting bitchy, but she couldn’t stop it. Let him haul around the load she carried for just a few hours and see what kind of mood he’d be in. “I’d appreciate it if the next time we go for a checkup the two of you wouldn’t talk as though I weren’t there. I may be bloated a
nd pregnant, but I still have my mental faculties.”

  He only laughed and drew her close. “You’re in a great mood tonight. Why don’t you go take a hot bath before bedtime?”

  “All hippopotamuses enjoy soaking, don’t they?”

  His lips showed amusement, but he knew better than to laugh. “Go on. You’ll sleep better.”

  She grumbled and groaned, but she heaved herself off the couch and went into the bathroom. She was drying off when Deke opened the door. He knocked once but then pushed his way in, afraid for her safety because she had been in there so long. He had a fear of her slipping in the tub.

  Steam swirled around them as they stared at each other in mutual surprise.

  “You’re very beautiful, Laney,” he said thickly. Even swollen with his baby, her body attracted him more than any other woman’s.

  It would have been senseless to reach for a towel to cover herself. So she stood there and let his gaze travel over her nakedness. She didn’t believe them, but she latched on to his words. They were what she needed to hear. “You still think I’m beautiful?”

  “Very. Did you think I didn’t?”

  “You haven’t . . .” Unable to finish her sentence, she looked away.

  “Made love to you?”

  She shuddered. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I expected it just because of what happened in Tulsa.”

  “I’m embarrassed by what happened.”

  He came to her then and placed his hands gently on her shoulders, willing his eyes to remain on her face and not take in the delights of her feminine form. “You responded to me as the passionate, generous, sensuous woman you are. For the second time. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of or to apologize for.”

  She swallowed hard and her voice was small when she said, “I thought my aggression might have revolted you.”

  He laughed then, a hearty, low, rumbling laugh that vibrated in her ear as he pressed her cheek against his chest. “Hardly, my love. Hardly,” he whispered earnestly. He held her for a moment, then set her away from him. “Are you finished in here?”

  She was slightly breathless from their embrace. There was something naughtily exciting about being naked while he was fully clothed. The contact of her skin with the varying textures of his clothes had ignited tiny sparks of desire all along her body.

  “I, uh, rub this lotion on my stomach every night,” she said, wishing her heart would slow down. “It’s supposed to help prevent stretch marks.”

  “Go lie down on the bed. I’ll do that for you tonight.”

  He joined her on the soft linens a few minutes later, wearing only his underwear and carrying the bottle of lotion. She hadn’t seen the need to put on a nightgown, since he would have to grapple with it to smooth on the lotion. Only the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp clothed her. She wondered at her lack of modesty, but not enough to want it back. Somehow such bashfulness seemed silly now.

  “Have I ever told you that I like your hair?” she asked as he poured a generous portion of lotion into his palm and then began to rub it into the tightly stretched, itchy skin of her abdomen.

  “Gray hair? You have a penchant for old men?”

  “You’re not old! When did it start turning gray?”

  “When I was about twenty-five. My father’s was the same way. His hair was completely white by the time he was fifty.” His hands were talented in the art of massage. They applied just the right amount of pressure, and Laney felt her fatigue and querulousness disappearing beneath their soothing touch. Her eyelids became heavy and she was almost asleep when he said, “All done.”

  “You didn’t do my breasts.” Her eyes popped open when she realized what she had sleepily mumbled. Deke was looking at her curiously. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “I can skip a night.”

  He caught her hands as she tried to pull the covers over her. “You rub this lotion on your breasts?”

  She wet her lips with her tongue, having no idea of the sharp stab of agony her unconscious action brought to Deke’s loins. “Breasts can get stretch marks too.”

  “We can’t let that happen,” he said with a trace of lechery. He poured another dollop of lotion into his hands and rubbed them together sensuously. He laid them on her breasts simultaneously and Laney closed her eyes and held her breath as supremely blissful feelings flowed over her at his touch.

  His hands were warm and slick with the lotion as they kneaded her. Her breasts filled his hands. They were lifted and pressed and lightly squeezed with slippery motions as the lotion lubricated her skin. His strong, lean fingers made shallow indentations in the creamy flesh.

  “I wish you had assigned me this job weeks ago,” he said huskily. The dusky tips of her breasts had responded to the flirtation of his fingertips. Forgetting his original purpose, he plucked at them gently until they hardened between his lightly pinching fingers. When she made a gurgling sound that might have been his name, he sought the tender buds with eager lips.

  When his mouth surrounded her, Laney arched off the bed and imbedded all ten fingers in his thick hair. He entrapped one nipple with a gentle sticking motion and rolled his tongue over it until she was writhing beneath him. Her arms went around him and her hands refamiliarized themselves with the corded muscles of his back, the supple groove of his spine, the indentation of his waist and the taut leanness of his buttocks.

  “Oh, God, Laney, I want you again,” he whispered against her breast, rubbing it with his lips. “Do you remember what it’s like, darling? Do you remember how it feels when I’m inside you?”

  “Yes, yes,” she breathed. She remembered all too well and her body did too. It was longing for him to fill her again.

  His hand smoothed down her side, along her thigh. It curved around the top of her leg, which was still slender despite her pregnancy and trailed up the silky inner side. He outlined the fleecy delta and touched her with infinite intimacy. “I kissed you here. Do you remember? And here.”

  She sighed. “God, yes. I remember.” She rolled toward him slightly, thrusting her hips against the solid ridge of his masculinity.

  With a desperation that bordered on savagery, he lifted himself to kiss her mouth. It was a reckless, hot, voracious kiss, and they drew on each other as though they were starved. Laney could almost fed his blood boiling in his veins.

  Then suddenly he rolled away from her onto his back. His teeth were clenched and he cursed as he peeled off his underwear and hurled it away. His chest rose and fell like a bellows. Every muscle in his body was bunched with the control he exercised.

  When his breathing was somewhat restored, he turned to face her. His expression was tender as he outlined her lips with the tip of his index finger and erased the worried frown he saw there. “We can’t, Laney.” She stared at him in hurt speechlessness. “You know how much I want to.” Still she didn’t speak.

  Taking her hand, he drew it to his sex, which was still hard and surging with life. He pressed her hand to it. “I want you. But the next time we make love I want it to be perfect. I don’t want to have to hold back, worrying that I might hurt you or harm the baby. I want more than just an orgasm for both of us. I want intercourse of the body and of the spirit. I want that same feeling of oneness that we had that night in New York. Strangers until then, but so familiar with each other that it was like coming home.” He touched her cheek. “Do you understand?”

  She did. Her eyes were shining with tears as she nodded her head. “Yes, I do.”

  Taking her hand away, he kissed it first, then her mouth. He pulled the covers over both of them. Long after he had turned out the light and Laney had felt the soft rhythm of his breath against her shoulder, her body continued to feel full and expanded. It had nothing to do with pregnancy. It wasn’t a physical sensation, but rather one of the soul. Something akin to joy, to love, was bubbling inside her like a smoldering volcano about to erupt. She savored the feeling. It frightened her, for it made her vul
nerable. But it was too delicious to wish away.

  “Things are progressing a little faster than I had predicted,” Dr. Taylor told them the next afternoon. Deke had picked her up from school—he was driving her to and from the schoolyard these days because he didn’t want her driving alone—and they had gone straight to the doctor’s office for her appointment. “I think you may deliver early.”

  Deke squeezed her hand and she smiled at him timorously. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” she asked the doctor.

  “No, no,” he answered broadly. “You haven’t gained a lot of excess weight; yet, it’s a very large fetus.”

  “Laney isn’t in danger, is she?” Deke asked, spearing the doctor with eyes that had made trial witnesses shiver with dread.

  “No, but I want her to be extremely careful from now on. Rest with your feet up as much as possible after you come home from school. Don’t get overtired.” He looked at Deke and cleared his throat. “You probably should abstain from, uh . . . you understand.”

  Both Deke and Laney blushed, remembering what had happened the night before.

  “Of course,” Deke said with the solemnity of a penitent boy in Sunday school.

  “I’ll see you next week,” the doctor said, dismissing them.

  If he had thought that his caution would make life easier for Laney, he was wrong. His warnings made life unbearable. Deke hovered over her like a mother hen. He would hardly let her brush her own teeth. He drove her to distraction about being careful at school and even took to parking across the street during her recess periods so he could watch her while she was outside. He ignored her petitions for him to stop.

  After three days of this she left her students in the charge of one of the other teachers, who was highly amused, and marched across the street to confront him. Yanking open the car door, she said, “Deke you’re being ridiculous. Everyone thinks you’re insane, including me.”

  “Why did you lift that kid onto the seesaw, Laney?”