by Diana Palmer
She saw that, and her face fell. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
He couldn’t tell her the truth. “I was thinking about your mother,” he lied.
“Oh. Oh, dear!” She bit her lip. “Blake, I can’t leave her alone. I wouldn’t dare.”
“How would you feel about having someone stay with her, around the clock, if we visited her often?” he asked, looking for compromises.
“I don’t know…”
“We won’t get married in the next two days,” he said with a comforting smile. “We’ve got plenty of time to work something out.”
“Yes,” she murmured, but she was wondering what he meant about plenty of time. He didn’t sound as if he was expecting to marry her soon.
He let go of her hand and reached for his coffee cup. “Don’t borrow worries, Violet,” he chided gently. “Everything falls into place, given time.”
“I suppose so.”
“Want dessert?” he asked.
She grimaced. “Not really,” she confessed. “It’s too hard to work it off once I gain it.” Then she remembered that she was going to be gaining a lot of weight, soon, and her spirits drooped. Her hormones were already reflecting her pregnancy. She was going to go through a lot more changes in the near future.
“I like the way you look,” he said, his voice deep and soft.
She lifted worried eyes to his. “Do you, honestly?”
He nodded.
She finished her own coffee, just as Jan, the young woman who worked for Barbara, brought Mrs. Hardy’s supper in a bag for Violet.
“Should we tell Mama yet?” she asked Blake.
He hesitated. He was still getting used to the idea of having to get married. He didn’t want to tell anybody.
“We could wait, a few days, at least,” she suggested.
“Do you want to?” he replied, surprised.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I need time to get used to the idea myself,” she confessed with a shy smile. She didn’t add that she didn’t think he was serious about getting married, and she didn’t want her mother to be disappointed in case he found a reason to back out of it. Maybe it had been an impulse, asking her to marry him, and he was already regretting it.
“If that’s what you want,” he agreed easily.
He walked her to her car. The parking lot was crowded and he wasn’t keen to give local citizens any more reason for gossip. He caught her hand and touched it to his lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Right. I enjoyed supper,” she added with a shy smile.
“So did I. We’ll have to spend more time together. I don’t know much about you, do I?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know a lot about you, either.”
“All the more reason.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a phone call about a case, at home. It’s almost time. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” She would have said more, but he was already walking away. He didn’t break stride until he reached his car, and he didn’t look back.
Violet watched him drive away with an odd sense of foreboding. He didn’t act like a newly engaged man. He didn’t act like a man eager to marry, either. She got into her car and drove home. She was more determined than ever not to mention their so-called engagement to her mother.
The rest of the week dragged on, with Violet successfully hiding her morning sickness both from her mother and her co-workers, and Blake.
It worried her that Blake didn’t announce their engagement, or treat her any differently. She grew depressed, and it showed.
Blake noticed. Friday afternoon, he held Violet back after Mabel and Libby left. He locked the front door, drew her into his office and closed that door, too.
Sometimes, a sacrifice was called for. That was what he told himself when he drew Violet into his arms and bent to kiss her with forced enthusiasm.
But the minute he felt her soft mouth open under his, it stopped being a sacrifice. He lifted her body against his and deepened the kiss. She moaned under his lips. He caught his breath, his arms contracting hungrily. It had been a long, dry spell, and he was reacting badly to it. He felt himself go taut as the kiss moved into deeper, more urgent dimensions.
He bent to lift her, his mind no longer on pretense or fabrication. He had only one thought in his mind, to relieve the need that was drawing his powerful body as tight as a cable.
“Blake, we…shouldn’t…” she tried to protest when he laid her out on the sofa and melted down onto her.
His mouth stopped the halfhearted little protest. His hand was busy on fastenings. In seconds, she felt her bare breasts under his equally bare chest. It was so sweet that she couldn’t even manage a defense.
One lean leg inserted itself between both of hers under her skirt and he groaned harshly as he dragged her briefs down and found the fastenings of his slacks.
“I’m sorry,” he ground out into her mouth as his hips moved down and she felt him in growing intimacy. “I’m sorry, Violet,” he groaned, shivering. “I can’t hold it…!”
He was genuinely out of control. His body impaled hers with quick, deft movements that should have been uncomfortable. But she was hungry for him, too. She opened her legs with a shaken little sigh and arched her hips to encourage him.
Her hands found their way into his thick, wavy hair and caressed it while he moved on her in intense passion.
In some ways, it was far more exciting than a slow seduction. He was at fever pitch, and she was quickly following him into the fire. It made her feel oddly protective that he was that desperate for her. It was honest. No man could have pretended the passion she felt in him.
“Here,” he whispered urgently, shifting her leg with one lean, strong hand. “Lift it over…mine. Hurry. Yes. Yes!”
He pushed down against her, lifting his head so that he could see her face, her eyes. They were open, dark, almost shocked. But her body was encouraging him. He felt her lift to meet each deep, hard thrust. He felt her softness envelop him, cradle him, in that secret warmth. He was flying. He was burning alive. His whole body was one long, throbbing ache.
The tension built to insane proportions. He gasped with every hard thrust, his eyes blazing with desire, his body rigid, shuddering, with it.
His fingers contracted on her soft thigh, pulling her up to him. His teeth clenched as he looked into her wide, shocked eyes.
“I’ve never watched…with anyone else,” he managed in a deep, shaken whisper.
She couldn’t answer him. She was spiraling up with him into some dark, hot pleasure that built and built with no relief from the tension that strained her muscles and left her shivering with every movement of his lean hips.
“This is insane,” he managed harshly.
Her breasts pushed up against his chest, rubbing hard against it while her hands went between them and stroked down to his flat belly.
He groaned harshly and shuddered. “Yes,” he choked. “Yes, do that…do it!”
He arched up, feeling the throbbing pleasure like a knife in him. He couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. He hoped she was going with him, because he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, couldn’t…stop…!
He cried out, his voice hoarse and strained as his body convulsed over hers. She watched him, fascinated, feeling the deep throb inside her as he shivered and stiffened and then, suddenly, collapsed and gasped for breath.
She was still tingling, but he hadn’t given her enough time. She felt sad; cheated. She didn’t want to say anything. At least he needed her, if nothing more.
He managed to steady his breathing, although he was still fiercely aroused. He lifted his head and looked at her taut, drawn face. She hadn’t gone with him. She was still hungry.
He felt a tenderness toward her at that minute that he’d never felt in his life. She wasn’t even complaining. She loved him.
Loved him. The thought made him humble. He reached between them and touched her blatantly, hi
s body controlling her when she jerked in protest.
“Oh, no,” he whispered softly, his hand moving gently until he found the place, and the pressure, that made her gasp and lift up. “No, I’m not stopping until you go as high as I did, no matter what it takes.” He bent and brushed his mouth slowly over her lips. She shivered as his touch became more insistent. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Blake,” she moaned, her fingers gripping his shoulders painfully as the pleasure grew.
“Yes, you’re ready now,” he whispered, lifting his head to look at her. “I’m going to watch you this time. I like the way your eyes go black when I take you over the edge. I like the way your breasts swell under my mouth. I like feeling you shiver, inside, and ripple around me when you feel that exquisite fulfillment.”
The words were as exciting as the way he was touching her. But she was far beyond answering him. Her body was lifting rhythmically, pulsing, her eyes fixed on his face as the pleasure grew so tight that she felt as if she might blow apart from the tension.
Her legs drew apart and she sobbed, her nails biting hard into him as the silvery delight suddenly became dark and throbbing and urgent. “Blake, now,” she pleaded, gritting her teeth. Her eyes closed on a wave of pleasure. “Now! Please, please, please…!”
He moved, thrusting deep inside her. The single, hard motion was enough to take her right into the sky. She arched up, shuddering again and again as the ecstasy rippled over her in savage waves. She couldn’t see him. She felt him in her body as she exploded like a meteorite.
“Yes,” he whispered, unbearably excited by her explosive climax. He ground his teeth together and moved harshly on her, driving for his own fulfillment. They strained together in a hot, fierce silence as the pleasure melted their bodies together for one long, aching instant of perfect communion.
She cried when it was over. The other time it hadn’t been so intense, so overwhelming. She cried and couldn’t stop.
Blake lifted his damp head and looked at her, his body still trembling faintly from the violence of their coming together.
She opened her eyes and looked into his, and saw something she never expected. She saw utter shock.
Nine
Violet struggled to breathe. She was suddenly aware of the closeness of their bodies joined together so intimately that she could even feel the faint pulsation of him inside her.
He propped himself on his forearms, still fighting to get his breath, and looked into Violet’s blue eyes. He’d never felt such a primitive urge to possess a woman, not even Shannon. His feelings for her had been tender, protective, almost passive. He’d never wanted to ravish her. But it was different with Violet. He felt an aching, violent hunger for her. It seemed to grow by the day in strength and power.
But even so, there was tenderness. Her body was soft and pliable, and he breathed in her faint perfume with delight. He traced her eyebrows with a long forefinger, his eyes searching over her face, her throat, her swollen breasts. He touched them tenderly. He thought about his child in her womb and shivered. Would she nurse the baby? he wondered, and he felt suddenly the magic and fear of creation. She was carrying his child. His child…
His breath caught. He bent and touched his mouth to her eyes, closing them tenderly. His fingers speared into her thick hair and tilted her face so that he could close his lips over her mouth.
Violet didn’t understand. It wasn’t like last time. He was different, suddenly.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. “So much for abstaining until the ceremony,” he murmured ruefully.
She flushed.
He laughed softly. “Embarrassed?” he teased. “You shouldn’t be. This is one of the most important parts of any marriage. I’ve seen couples who were compatible in every other way end up in divorce court because one couldn’t satisfy the other in bed.”
“We don’t seem to have that problem,” she agreed shyly.
He traced her cheek. “You should have told me that you weren’t satisfied,” he said softly. “I could see it, fortunately for you. But I don’t like thinking you’d let me leave when you were still aching for satisfaction.”
She studied him curiously. “I thought men were only concerned with their own pleasure.”
“Not this man,” he replied, his voice deep and soft. He smiled quizzically. “You enjoy me, don’t you?” he asked conversationally. “I’m glad. I thought you might have hang-ups because you’d abstained all your life.”
“So did I,” she confessed with a soft laugh. “I can’t think when we’re like this.”
“I noticed,” he replied. “You dive in headfirst and give it everything you’ve got.” He kissed her softly. “I love the way you are with me, Violet,” he said seriously. He drew away slowly, aware of her faint embarrassment. He smiled, because he liked that little sign of insecurity. He liked knowing he was her first man.
She fumbled her clothes back into place. When she finished, he was already opening the door.
“Your mother is going to be worried,” he said, glancing at the clock. “You should call her before we leave.”
She went to the phone and made the call, inventing a few letters that had to be done after hours. Her mother wasn’t worried, and sounded amused. Violet gave Blake a wry glance when she hung up.
“She didn’t buy it, did she?” he asked, amused.
“She was young, once.”
“So she was.” He drew her into his arms and held her for a long moment, his expression worried. He’d only just thought about the baby and how rough he’d been. It was a protective impulse that had just started. She was carrying his child…
“I didn’t mean to be that rough,” he said suddenly. “I just…lost it when I started kissing you,” he confessed quietly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Of course not,” she said, and thought immediately of the baby. Would sex hurt her child? Surely not. Lou had said not to lift. She hadn’t said anything about sex. It would be all right. Of course it would.
She followed Blake silently to the front of the office and waited while he turned out the lights and locked up.
“Go straight home,” he said softly. “I’ll follow you to the turnoff.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, surprised by his concern.
“I know. Come on.”
He helped her into her car and then got into his. She saw him in her rearview mirror until she turned off on the short road that led to the house she shared with her mother. She felt warm and secure until she pulled into her driveway and remembered that he hadn’t said one word about seeing her again during the weekend.
He didn’t call, either. She drove up to Victoria Saturday to get her prenatal vitamins and spent the weekend making an afghan while she kept her mother company. She’d been sure that Blake would at least phone her. But he didn’t.
She felt oddly used by Sunday evening. He’d needed her Friday night. It had been sweet, but completely physical on his side. She could feel that he had no strong emotional bond with her. It was physical, and that wasn’t going to last. She wondered why he’d asked her to be engaged to him. He couldn’t know she was pregnant.
At least, that’s what she thought until Monday morning. Mabel and Libby were hard at work on documents for court. Violet had gone back to Blake’s office to carry him a message from a caller, because he was on the other line and she didn’t want to interrupt him in what might have been a private conversation.
She hesitated outside the door, which had been left cracked. What she heard caused the written message to fall to the floor. It broke her heart.
“What else could I do?” he was asking someone in a heavy, hunted tone. “Her mother is in seriously bad health and she’s already upset about the manner of her husband’s death. If she knew that Violet was pregnant out of wedlock, it might kill her. Besides all that, it’s a small community and everybody knows us. There’s no way Violet would agree to a terminatio
n, so marriage is the only possible resolution.”
He paused for several seconds before he spoke again, obviously listening to the person on the other end of the line. “I know,” he said, and sounded worn. “I know. But she won’t find out. I’ll never tell her. I can give her enough to make her happy. She and her mother will never want for anything. After the child is born, we’ll make whatever decisions have to be made. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, whether or not the marriage continues. Yes. Yes, I know.”
Violet bent to pick up the fallen piece of paper. His voice droned on. Whoever he was talking to seemed long-winded.
She turned and went back down the hall to the waiting room. She wasn’t thinking clearly at all. It was impossible to make any rational decision until she could sort out her priorities.
She sat down at the computer and put the phone call memo on top of a stack of papers beside the printer tray. She felt numb for the moment. That was good, because she was going to have hysterics when she could reason again.
The front door opened and Libby came in. She glanced at Violet and hesitated.
“Are you okay?” she asked at once. “You’re white as a sheet!”
Violet swallowed hard and then swallowed again. “I feel a bit woozy,” she confessed, feeling her forehead. “There’s some sort of bug going around. I’ll bet I’ve caught it.”
“Can I get you anything?” Libby asked, concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Blake asked, coming into the room, frowning.
“Violet’s feeling ill,” Libby said. “Maybe you should go home,” she told her co-worker.
“Not a bad idea,” Blake agreed. “Do you want me to drive you?” he added.
“I can drive,” Violet managed in a husky, soft tone. She didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m just a little sick. It’s nothing. Really.”
Blake helped her up and walked outside with her. “Call me when you get home,” he said firmly. He hesitated. “On second thought, I think I should go with you.”
