The Widow and the Wastrel

by Janet Dailey

"He's out of it again, is he?" Kurt's voice had claimed Elizabeth's attention. He was standing in the doorway with Freda, fresh linen in her arms. "I thought I'd give you two girls a hand changing the sheets."

  "I'll warn you, Kurt, Jed isn't very co-operative," Elizabeth had cautioned with a sigh, twisting her hand free from Jed.

  And he hadn't been co-operative, fighting the hands that removed the sweat-stained sheets from beneath him to replace them with dry, hurling profanities at them indiscriminately. Finally when they had him tucked back in, he had seemed to collapse with exhaustion.

  "He's hardly the model patient, is he?" Freda had breathed in deeply.

  "I'm sorry," Elizabeth had shaken her head wearily as they went out of the room.

  "Don't be sorry," Kurt had insisted. "You certainly could never have managed him on your own, and I don't think Mrs. Carrel would have been of much help to you."

  Elizabeth had smiled, acknowledging silently the truth of his words. She doubted if she would have been able to manhandle Jed even in his weakened condition. Assistance from her mother-in-law would have been minimal at best. She had a very low tolerance of sick people, making her duty visits as she had done with Jed, but never staying any longer than propriety dictated.

  "How about some iced tea on the porch before we turn in?" Kurt had suggested.

  "It's a grand idea," Freda had agreed. "There's a pitcher full in the refrigerator. Would you fix a glass for Liza and me?" She had begun using Jed's nickname for Elizabeth. Without the faintly mocking undertones, Elizabeth hadn't objected.

  "For my sister, anything," Kurt had agreed laughingly, leaving the two girls to make their own way to the porch.

  Leaning against one of the wooden porch-roof supports, Elizabeth had gazed at the evening stars sprinkled over the night sky. "How long do you think it will last, Freda? Doctor Miles said only a few days, but it's already been three days."

  "His fever should be breaking soon." Freda had curled on to the porch swing, tucking her legs beneath her. "You love him very much, don't you?"

  Elizabeth had swung around, a denial forming on her lips. Then she had sighed. "Yes," she had answered simply.

  Freda hadn't offered any words of hope or confided anything that Jed might have said to her or Kurt. If she had, Elizabeth doubted if she would have believed her. She didn't think anyone knew what Jed felt, nor was he the type to let something slip.

  There was an invisible clasping of hands between Elizabeth and Freda, cementing the friendship that had been steadily growing each hour they had spent together. Elizabeth had not realized how much she had missed the nonsensical talk with another girl, the exchanging of ideas whether on cooking or clothes or world politics without any attempt to impress the other with their intellectual prowess. If she had gained nothing else, she knew she had acquired a true friend.

  Staring at the ceiling above her bed, Elizabeth waited for sleep to steal upon her, but her mind refused to stop reliving the happenings of the past three days. Restlessly, she thumped her pillow to relieve the tension, turning on her side and this time gazing at the sleeping figure of her daughter in the next bed. It was no use, she thought dejectedly. She simply was not going to fall asleep as long as her mind kept racing about with thoughts of Jed.

  A quilted housecoat lay at the foot of her bed. Slipping quietly from beneath the covers so as not to disturb Amy, Elizabeth slid her feet into the slippers at her bedside and picked up the housecoat. She would take a couple of minutes to check on Jed, she decided, then warm some milk in the kitchen. Wasn't that the old-fashioned cure-all for insomnia? she smiled at herself.

  The yard light streamed through Jed's window, illuminating his tossing and turning figure. The blankets were thrown off, exposing the naked expanse of his bronzed chest. His pajama bottoms looked a paler blue in the dim light as Elizabeth hurried quietly into the room to draw the covers around him again. His skin was burning to the touch. Taking the ever-present cloth from the wash basin, she wiped the streaming perspiration from his unconsciously frowning face.

  The fever was peaking. Cradling his head in her arms, Elizabeth pressed the water glass to his dry lips, letting the liquid trickle into his mouth. Directed by instinct, she kept repeating the procedure, first wiping the perspiration away, then giving him small swallows of water. Her heart cried out at her inability to do more to ease his discomfort as he continued to moan and toss. Her arms began to ache, her muscles throbbed with the constant repetition of her actions. She lost all perception of the minutes ticking by. It never once occurred to her to waken Freda.

  Elizabeth didn't notice the exact moment when his fever broke. Suddenly she realized the frown had left his face and the restless turnings had ceased. His lean cheeks were still warm but without the fiery heat that had burned her hand. It was over. Jed was actually sleeping. With a trembling sound that was both a sigh and a sob, she collapsed wearily in the rocking chair beside his bed. She would sit here for a few minutes, she told herself, and let her aching muscles relax. It was for certain she wouldn't need any milk now, she decided with a wry smile. That was the last thing she remembered.

  The next thing was the shooting pains in her neck. When she tried to move, they travelled down her spine. She frowned in protest, not wanting to move again, but the stiffness of her muscles demanded it. Slowly, unwillingly, Elizabeth opened her eyes, as the awareness of her surroundings gradually sank in and she awoke.

  The sun was well up in the sky with no traces of the golden pink of dawn. Jed was sleeping peacefully, the stubble of a three-day beard growth darkening the lean jaw. The sallow look was gone from his face and there was no gleam of perspiration on his forehead. He was all right. A faint smile of relief touched her lips.

  Arching her back to flex away the rigidity, Elizabeth began to gently rub the crook in her neck, the painful result of sleeping in the rocking chair the better part of the night. She still felt tired, but there was little point in going to bed at this hour. As she pushed herself out of the chair, her gaze shifted to the bed. Jed was watching her. The glaze of fever was gone, his eyes cat-gold and piercingly thorough in their appraisal.

  "Didn't anyone ever tell you that chairs weren't made to sleep in?" His mouth quirked cynically at the corners.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, her heart skipping beats, but the bedroom door was opened, effectively silencing her words. Freda stuck her head inside, glancing in surprise at Elizabeth, then to Jed. A smile spread across her face.

  "Well, I see you've made it back to the land of reality." Genuine welcome warmed her face. "You must be starving, Jed. I'll bring you a tray."

  "Don't bother." He rolled on to his back, his lazily alert gaze releasing Elizabeth to focus on his hostess. "Elizabeth will be out shortly. She can fix it."

  The other girl raised a curious eyebrow, looked briefly at Elizabeth's astonished expression, then shrugged her agreement. The closing of the door brought an end to her initial confusion.

  "I had planned to shower and change," she told him tartly, resenting his autocratic command that she should wait on him when she had stayed up half the night taking care of him.

  The complacent expression on his face didn't vary. "I thought you were enjoying your role as the angel of mercy." With disconcerting ease, Jed switched from mockery. "How long have I been out?"

  "Three days."

  "Three days?" He rubbed his hand over his chin, his beard scraping the palm. "I hope I didn't bore you with recollections of my lurid past." He smiled ruefully.

  "You mumbled too much," Elizabeth replied quietly and honestly, "When we could understand your rambling, it didn't make any sense."

  His hooded glance had a measuring look about it, as if he was judging the truthfulness of her answer. She met it squarely without flinching, knowing how she would dislike having the privacy of her thoughts paraded before others without being aware of it.

  "I remember telling you to leave. Why didn't you?"

  Her love for him made
that question difficult to answer honestly, so she settled for a half-truth. "It wouldn't have been fair to let Freda and Kurt shoulder the entire responsibility of caring for you. They had their own work to do."

  "So a sense of duty compelled you to stay. Very commendable," he murmured dryly.

  "I was worried about you!" Elizabeth declared in despairing anger.

  "I'm touched," Jed mocked, reaching for the pitcher of water on the bedside table and nearly knocking it over when he tried to turn it around to grasp the handle.

  "Let me do that," she sighed, taking the pitcher from him and filling the glass with water. Automatically she sat on the edge of the bed, cupping the back of his head with her hand and raising the glass to his mouth. She didn't consider he no longer needed her help. "The next time you get one of these attacks," she flashed, still smarting from his amused sarcasm that jeered her nursing efforts, "remind me to hire some thick-skinned nurse to take care of you. This is the last time I'll sit up half the night and be rewarded with abuse and ingratitude from you!"

  The glass was jerked from his lips the instant he indicated he was satisfied. Before she could rise angrily to her feet, his arm circled her waist to keep her at his side.

  "I'm sorry." His tawny eyes were sparkling over the mutinous set of her mouth. "I didn't say thank you, did I?"

  "No, you didn't," she retorted, her stomach churning in reaction to his touch. Her hands were unable to remove his pinning arm.

  "There you go again, becoming all haughty and disdainful, just like you did the first day I came back." The grooves around his mouth deepened mockingly. "I often wondered whether you were more afraid I would steal the family valuables or you."

  "You looked like a tramp. How was I supposed to react?" Elizabeth challenged coolly.

  "You were all cool and sophisticated then, too," Jed continued with thoughtful amusement. "Snapping out orders and warnings with all the arrogant pride of a true Carrel. The beautiful, fragile creature with the green eyes seemed to have disappeared, the one I remember as being intimidated by the Carrel name and frightened that she might not be good enough for the favorite son. That's probably why I kept scratching the surface to see if any traces remained of the girl I remembered. Your veneer of sophistication is very thin, Liza."

  "Jed," she gulped out her protest as he drew her down to the pillow, "you've been ill."

  His face was only tantalizing inches from hers. "I don't feel ill." He smiled at the shaky breath she drew. "Perhaps in view of my weakened condition you should humor me."

  His hand traced the outline of her face, his thumb lightly brushing her lips before his hand settled on the curve of her neck. At the moment, Elizabeth was certain that she was the one in the weakened condition.

  Her resistance, what little there was, was melting as swiftly as the wax beneath a candlewick.

  "I know a man isn't supposed to ask, but do you object if I kiss you?" Jed moved his head closer to hers, hesitating a breath away from her lips.

  "No." It was almost a moan.

  "You've objected all the other times," he murmured against her mouth. "This time I wanted you to want it as much as I do."

  Still he teased with feathery light kisses until her lips throbbed with the need for his possession. She wound her arms around his neck, trying to draw him down to her, but he held himself away easily.

  "I don't understand you," Elizabeth whispered achingly.

  His beard scraped her cheek, then her throat, as he nuzzled the sensitive area of her neck, sending shivers of tortuous bliss down her spine. He slid his hand into her robe, letting it caress her waist and hips through the thin material of her nightgown.

  "Please, Jed," she begged shamelessly. "Don't torment me this way." Her eyes filled with longing.

  "I wonder if you know the meaning of the word," he muttered, nipping sharply at her ear lobe and drawing a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure.

  But her plea succeeded as his head raised, his darkening hazel-gold eyes focusing on her trembling lips. The seconds stretched together again while he deliberately waited. The moan that escaped her lips when he finally claimed them was involuntary, an unwilling admission of the completeness of her surrender. The kiss was thorough and complete, his sensual technique without fault. The wildfire raging through her blood made any other man's touch seem like a tiny match flame by comparison.

  Yet her hunger for his embrace was insatiable. She arched toward him when he pulled away. He stayed just tantalizing out of her reach, teasing her relentlessly. His heart was thudding as madly as hers. She could feel it beneath the palm of her hand resting against his chest.

  "Were you worried about me?" he demanded huskily.

  "You know I was," she whispered.

  "Why?" He pushed her back against the pillow, pinning her there with the weight of his body. "Why should you care?"

  "Because," lamely evading his question.

  "Why?" Jed persisted gruffly, aware of the way his touch was destroying her inhibitions. When she didn't answer, his fingers dug into her shoulder bone. "Say it!" he snapped.

  Gazing into his eyes, Elizabeth saw that the flecks were not malleable gold. Only the color was there to conceal his iron control, metallic and unyielding. Her viridescent eyes glistened with the tears she knew she would eventually shed.

  "Because," her voice quivered uncontrollably, "I love you, Jed. I love you."

  There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes before his mouth obliterated all conscious thought with a hungry passion. Before she had only felt his virile surface warmth. Now she was consumed by the fiery urgency of his kiss. Not even when she had guessed how deeply Jed affected her had she ever dreamed that she would know this exploding joy.

  Chapter Nine

  "WOULD it be an understatement to say that you've recovered, Jed?"

  The sarcastically contemptuous voice was the hiss of the serpent in the garden. The spitting tongue brought an abrupt end to the kiss that had been progressively leading to more than a passionate embrace. Elizabeth struggled red-faced to her feet, quickly knotting the sash of her robe, while Jed rolled on to his back, barely perturbed by the interruption.

  "You have a lousy sense of timing, Mothers," he murmured dryly.

  The smoldering outrage was evident in the disdainful set of Rebecca Carrel's features, but her control was as strong as her son's. She flicked a cutting glance at Elizabeth, showing disgust for her abandoned behavior.

  "That is a matter of opinion, Jed," his mother responded coldly. "You appear quite healthy to me, I don't see that you'll require Elizabeth's presence any longer. We can put an end to this nursing nonsense."

  "She was about to fix my breakfast," he said with a crooked, humorous smile.

  "She is not a servant!" Rebecca snapped. "Have that farm girl get your meal."

  Elizabeth stiffened resentfully. "Freda is busy. If you'll excuse me, I'll get the breakfast." The nervous smoothing of her mussed black curls stopped as she moved past her mother-in-law to the door.

  "While you're gone you'd better check on your child," was the waspish response. "When I came in, she was playing with those dirty puppies, letting them paw and climb all over her. She looked as filthy as a beggar child!"

  "A little dirt won't harm her," Elizabeth retorted.

  "Perhaps you have forgotten she has a piano lesson this morning. It may have also slipped your mind that she missed the last one for"—there was a deliberate pause in the condescending reminder—unexplained reasons."

  "The reasons were personal." The tilt of Elizabeth's chin dared Rebecca to inquire further. "And I will decide if it's essential that she keep this one."

  "I don't know, what possible excuse you can offer Mrs. Banks. Not now that Jed has recovered."

  "Since I'm paying for the lessons, I wasn't aware that I needed an excuse!" Elizabeth was shaking with uncontrollable anger as she stepped into the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  She took her time in the shower and dressed with
equal slowness. She couldn't recall a time that she had talked back to her mother-in-law, and certainly never so rudely. The only twinge of remorse she felt was for losing her temper, not for the things she had said. She didn't venture out of her room until she heard Rebecca's car start up in the drive.

  Freda had left a note on the kitchen table telling Elizabeth that she was out in the garden. Amy was in the porch swing, crooning to a sleeping puppy in her lap. Doubting that Jed's stomach could take a sudden jolt of solid food, Elizabeth prepared a bowl of hot cereal, toast and cocoa and carried it into his room on a tray.

  Setting the tray across his lap, she walked silently to the window. It seemed incredible that a short time ago she had been in his arms, pledging her love with each breath she drew. Jed had barely glanced at her when she entered the room, remote again, withdrawn into that aloofness she had never been able to penetrate.

  "You're very quiet all of a sudden," he commented.

  "There's nothing left for me to say," Elizabeth shrugged, letting the curtain fall and turning toward him, her look unconsciously reminding him that it was his turn.

  "You should have time to pack your things before Amy's lesson. Freda can drive you to the house or take you on into town if you'd rather." He was sipping his cocoa with crushing unconcern.

  "Is that what you want? For me to leave?" she asked in a choked voice that was both stiff and proud.

  He held her gaze for a long moment. "It isn't what I want, but it's what I'm willing to settle for," he replied evenly.

  "What do you want?" Elizabeth stared at the fingers twisting and untwisting in front of her, surprised to discover that they belonged to her.

  "I thought I'd made that plain." He tilted his head curiously to one side, studying her intently. "I want you."

  Not "I love you" or "I want to marry you," but simply "I want you," as if she were a possession that he had coveted for a long time and intended to own.

  "I'll start packing now." Dispiritedly she turned away, her eyes downcast to conceal the gathering tears.

  "Liza? What's the matter?" Jed demanded as she started towards the door. "Liza!" he called to her again, angrily this time when she continued to ignore him. "Dammit! Answer me!"