by Sandra Brown
Hoping to rid herself of his company, she said, “Hello, William. Abel isn’t at home.” She barred the door with her body and purposely didn’t ask him in.
The Prathers’ absence was no news to William. Abel had called him about a hospital patient who needed visiting before they left for Raleigh, casually mentioning that Lauren was staying home.
He looked at Lauren smugly and took a step through the door. She was forced to move aside or have her body come into contact with his, and that she would avoid at all costs.
“Good,” William oozed. “I’m glad that I’ll have a chance to speak to you frankly and privately.”
He deposited his hat and coat on the hall tree and proceeded into the parlor, unaffected by Lauren’s cool greeting.
Lauren hadn’t been in this room all day. Apparently neither had anyone else, for the drapes remained unopened and only narrow slits of violet dusk outlined them. The parlor was dim, stuffy, and close, and William’s presence made the atmosphere seem even more stifling.
“What do you want to speak to me about, William? I’m very busy,” she said in a shaky voice. She knew then that the one emotion William had always stimulated in her was fear.
That was ridiculous! What did she have to fear from him? She tilted her chin higher, determined that he would not see her nervousness at being alone with him in an empty house.
William stood in the middle of the room with his hands at his back as he faced her. “Abel has given me permission to ask for your hand in marriage,” he stated pedantically “Before you find yourself unable to resist the advances of men like this recent visiting cowboy. I have decided that we should marry as soon as possible.”
She was aghast at his words, and her nervousness gave way to anger. “Ben Lockett did not make advances to me. But whether he did or not is of no concern to you, William, for I have no intention of marrying you.” She paused to draw in a ragged breath and clasped her hands together at her waist. “This discussion is over. I’ll see you out.”
She turned and walked toward the portiere. Before she reached it, William’s cold hand gripped her arm above the elbow and whirled her around to face him. She was so surprised at his accosting her in this manner that she didn’t try to extricate herself, but only stared at him incredulously.
“Not so fast, Miss Priss,” he snarled. “I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice was a feral growl, and she leaned away from him in revulsion. “You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. What kind of proposition did Lockett make you out there in the rose garden?”
She tried to jerk her arm away, but his grip became painfully more restricting and she winced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He asked me to go to Texas for a visit, that’s all.”
“Oh, I just bet he did.” William smirked. “The only visits you’d be paying him would be to his bedroom.”
Lauren gasped. “I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” This was true. She had only a vague notion of what his words implied, but she knew instinctively that the implication was ugly.
William squinted at her carefully. “Maybe you don’t. Well, then, I’m going to be the one to teach you. Not some old, overgrown oaf.”
Terror gave Lauren the strength to free her arm and, turning, she tried to run from him. He was right behind her and grabbed her again before she had taken two steps. His arms went around her in a viselike grip and pulled her around to face him. His fleshy, wet lips mashed against hers.
Lauren couldn’t believe this was happening. Her mind screamed silently while his mouth over hers made actual screaming impossible. He held her even closer, his legs straddling hers as he bent over her. Then, placing his wet mouth against her ear, he muttered, “Don’t fight it, Lauren. I’ve watched you move in that maddening way of yours. I’m not fooled by the perfect lady act.” All this time, she could feel his cold hands working with the buttons on the back of her shirtwaist. She did scream when she felt his bloodless fingers against her flesh.
He stopped the scream with his mouth again and, as Lauren’s mouth was open, he thrust his tongue into it deeply. She fought even harder, scratching his face, pulling his hair, kicking his bony shins. An instinct of self-preservation drove her to do things she would never have thought herself capable of.
She was horrified to think about what all this awful pawing and slobbering culminated in, and she knew she could not allow it. Repulsion and fear gave her one last surge of strength, and she shoved against his chest with all her might. He staggered and fell backward over a petit-point cushioned footstool in front of Sybil’s easy chair. While he made an ungainly attempt to stand, Lauren lunged toward the fireplace and seized the iron poker, brandishing it in front of her.
“Get out of here,” she managed to croak between gulping breaths. “If you try to touch me again, I’ll kill you.”
Standing there with bleeding scratches on his face, his thin hair sticking out at varying angles, his clothes in disarray, William bore little resemblance to the stiff, circumspect minister who delivered hair-raising sermons to his congregation on the consequences of pursuing the lusts of the flesh.
“What would you tell everyone, Lauren darling, when they came in and found my skull crushed if, in fact, you succeeded? Your reputation would be irreparably damaged. People would believe that you’d invited me here while your watchdogs were out of town.” He took a tentative step toward her.
He stopped when she raised the poker higher. “I would never have thought myself capable of murder, but so help me, I will do it, William,” she threatened. “You’re a hypocrite and a parody of a man. Now get out of my sight. At once!”
He snickered nastily. “I’m not giving up. You probably delivered the goods to Lockett, anyway.” Having flung this final insult at her, he walked past her warily and paused in the hall only long enough to straighten his clothing and slip on his coat and hat. Lauren heard the front door open and close softly. She stood with the poker raised and only when the weight of it began to make her arms ache did she lower it.
She moved with stunned, dreamlike slowness. After climbing the stairs as if she wore lead shoes, she opened the door to her room and then locked it behind her. She crossed to her dresser and looked with dismay at her reflection in the mirror.
Her chin was still shiny with William’s saliva. Her hair hung in tangled knots down her back.
She removed her clothing as she drew water into the deep tub. She rinsed her mouth out several times with antiseptic, and then stepped into the hot water to soak away the degradation. The bruises on her upper arms were painful.
Lauren had awakened the next morning still shattered from the experience of the night before. Pacing the floor, she tried to arrange her thoughts. How was she going to tell the guileless Prathers what had happened? Their disillusionment with the young pastor would be shocking. Certainly Abel would have to relieve him of his position and forbid him to ever enter this house again. Lauren wished she could spare them this hurt, but she couldn’t remain silent. William Keller was a menace.
It never occurred to her that her guardians wouldn’t believe her.
When they came home, she welcomed them happily. Sybil’s chattering helped dispel the gloom in the house, which had seemed to become even more oppressive since last evening. Lauren was presented with a box of lace handkerchiefs. She thanked the Prathers profusely while consciously ushering them into the parlor.
They had just sat down when the doorbell rang. Lauren was astounded to hear William’s voice when Abel answered it. They spoke quietly for a few moments before a perplexed Abel stood under the portiere and said, “If you ladies will excuse us, William has an urgent matter to discuss with me. We’ll no doubt join you shortly.”
He disappeared in the direction of his study and a nameless premonition pricked Lauren’s mind. She was nervous and apprehensive as she listened to Sybil’s detailed account of the trip. Lauren’s mouth went dry and her agitation grew as the interview in the study stretch
ed into a half-hour.
Her heart lurched when she heard the study door opening and the two men came into the parlor. Abel’s face was an alarming red. He shook his head as he looked disbelievingly at Lauren. William stood several humble steps behind him. He seemed contrite, but Lauren caught a victorious gleam in his reptilian eyes when they lighted on her.
“Abel, what—” Sybil’s voice quivered when she saw her husband’s obvious distress.
“My dear, I wish I could spare you this, but I’m afraid you’ll have to know of our shame sooner or later.”
Abel crossed the room with a heavy tread and sat down beside his wife, taking her hand. William stood just inside the doorway and studied the ugly carpet under his serviceable shoes.
Was it possible William thought she had told the Prathers about his shameful behavior last night and had come to apologize? Her surmise was rejected when she saw the expression on Abel’s face as he turned toward her. It was sad. It was censoring. It was sanctimonious.
He sighed before he said, “Fornication is a grievous sin, Lauren.” Her lips parted in astonishment. Sybil gasped and crammed a handkerchief against her lips.
“What—” Lauren started to speak, but Abel continued.
“It is an abomination unto the Lord. William has come to me like a man and confessed that the two of you have for several months yielded to your lusts.”
Sybil collapsed against the back of the sofa, and tiny sobs escaped from her trembling lips. Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but again Abel anticipated her.
“A man’s drives are stronger than a woman’s. Even a man of God like William isn’t free from the cravings of his flesh. However,” here his voice became more stern, “it is up to the woman to keep a tight rein on those cravings. William told me that you enticed him to the point where he succumbed.”
Sybil cried out loud now, the tears flowing copiously down her fat cheeks. All the blood drained from Lauren’s face. The wild pounding of her heart seemed to stop. I must be dreaming, she told herself.
“Somehow we, who loved you as our own, have failed. You were entrusted into our care by your sainted father. We have betrayed that trust just as surely as you have betrayed our love.”
Lauren’s heart ached at seeing her guardians suffer so, but she made no effort to speak then. She glanced at William, who continued to stare at the floor in abject repentance.
Abel closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Lauren, William told me that he couldn’t live with himself another day without arranging for an immediate wedding. He offers you marriage, not out of guilt, but out of deep and abiding love. I, for one, am grateful—” He broke off and buried his face in his hands.
Witnessing his misery spurred Lauren into action. She flew out of her chair and crouched beside Abel. She placed both hands on his and waited until he raised his head to look at her before she spoke.
“He’s lying, Abel,” she stated simply. “The only time I have been alone with William was last night. He came here while you were gone and tried to kiss and… touch me.” Tears rolled down her face as she recounted the indignities she had experienced.
When she finished her story, she felt William’s hands on her shoulders as he pulled her conciliatorily to her feet. “Lauren, dear, we don’t have to hide anymore. Don’t you see? We will be married and live together. We have sinned. But I’ve confessed my sin to God and Man. If you confess your transgression, you, too, will feel the peace that now suffuses my spirit.”
She jumped away from him, her eyes flashing. “Are you mad? The only thing I’ll confess to is my loathing of you.”
William smiled sweetly at Abel. “I’m afraid she’s overwrought. She wanted to prevent you from finding out about our illicit relations. She wanted to spare you that.”
“Of course,” Abel agreed, staring at Lauren as if he’d never seen her before. “I think the wedding should take place as quickly as possible. Lauren, I appreciate your charity in trying to spare Sybil and me. I will bless this marriage. You will be restored to my family and to the family of God.”
William had won. With satanic subtlety, he had conceived this counterattack, and the Prathers believed him. Abel had spoken of betrayal, but he couldn’t know how deeply she felt betrayed.
She could show them the purple bruises on her arms, but why should she? If William’s seeds of deception had found such fertile soil in the minds of those who should know her and love her better than to suspect her of such depravity, then she wasn’t going to plead her case. Abel was God’s servant, but he wasn’t God. And her conscience was clear.
“I’m not going to marry William. He is lying. And even if he weren’t, I would never marry William Keller.”
Sybil shrieked, and fell back against the cushions once again.
“Lauren, do you wish to heap burning coals of shame upon our heads? Child, please consider us if you don’t consider your immortal soul,” Abel pleaded.
“I have done nothing. I will not be condemned to a life of unhappiness with a man I despise,” Lauren said firmly. “But you needn’t dread the shame my continued presence in your house will bring you. I intend to leave.”
And she had. She left within the week, taking out of the bank what small funds belonged to her.
Her telegram to Ben Lockett sent the morning after William’s conference with Abel caught the cattle baron just as he was arriving in Austin. He hastily replied, and his evident joy at her imminent visit restored her high hopes. She left the Prathers’ parsonage several days later, unforgiven, an anathema. But she was on her way to Texas, and a new life with the family of Ben Lockett.
* * *
The family of Ben Lockett. She was about to become a member of that family. Was she doing the right thing?
Yes, she told herself. She was doing the only thing she could do, short of leaving penniless and without direction. Yes. Her best course was to marry Jared.
His kiss had stunned her, offended her. But where was the disgust she should be feeling? Nausea had kept her awake the night William had kissed her. Why hadn’t she been sickened by Jared’s mouth? All she could recall of his kiss was the sensuous persuasion of his lips and tongue and the protective warmth of his firm embrace.
She rolled onto her back on the bed and covered her face with her hands against the shame she felt. She had enjoyed that kiss.
And she would never forget it. Could she marry the man, live with him, and constantly be reminded of that one fleeting moment of passion? Added to all his other insults, could she tolerate that final humiliation, knowing that he would remember that kiss, too?
On the other hand, she had not yet thought of a palatable alternative. At least by marrying Jared, she would have a goal to accomplish, an obligation to fulfill.
The money seemed insignificant now, but in two years, it could be extremely important. The twenty thousand dollars could mean the difference between living comfortably and destitution. Looking at it strictly from a financial point of view, did she dare pass up an opportunity like this?
And then there was the man, Jared Lockett. No! She wouldn’t think about him, for thoughts of him clouded her ability to reason logically. Somehow they would learn to coexist peaceably. That would be a major accomplishment, but she would take it a step at a time.
She made her decision.
For the remainder of the day, Lauren stayed in her room, trying to still the turbulence of her mind. At dinnertime, she changed her shirtwaist and recombed her hair, securing it better than she had that morning. A cool, damp cloth pressed to her eyes had relieved them of the redness and puffiness of weeping. She felt restored, but her heart pounded painfully as she descended the stairs.
At the dinner table, Olivia stated, almost as an afterthought, “Lauren, the wedding will take place here a week from tomorrow. There will be a select number of invited guests.”
“Very well,” Lauren answered.
Jared wasn’t at dinner. His absence was never mentioned or explained to hi
s fiancée.
Chapter 8
For the next few days, Lauren was thrust into such a beehive of activity that she had little time for introspection. The sheer importance of the transpiring events prevented her from examining them too closely. It was far easier to be swept along on the tide. So busy were the days that at night she fell into bed exhausted, hoping for rapid and complete oblivion. But her brain refused to slumber, and she was forced to dwell on what she was about to do until her mind finally relinquished its control over her body, and her burning, gritty eyes closed in restless sleep.
Elena and Rosa were at first surprised that Señor Jared was marrying the lovely Miss Holbrook. But soon they were riding the crest of excitement and got caught up in the flurry of activity. They nearly drove Lauren to distraction with their petting and fawning over her.
Jared’s reaction to their upcoming marriage was one of cool acceptance. He neither feigned affection, nor treated her with the resentment she knew he must feel. Each time they were together, he regarded her with the same aloof indifference that he did everyone else. He was polite, but not effusively so. He conversed with her when necessary, but didn’t initiate any private dialogues between them. He could have loved her passionately or despised her with equal fervor. His remote expression gave away nothing.
Olivia organized the wedding in the brief span of time allotted. Lauren was consulted on little in regard to the arrangements. She was told it would be a private civil ceremony held in the large parlor. There would be a small reception afterward for the few invited guests. The following day, Lauren and Jared would go to Keypoint for a “honeymoon.”
Lauren was fitted several times a day for the trousseau which Olivia insisted on despite Lauren’s protests to the contrary. Olivia’s gesture wasn’t motivated by generosity or any blossoming maternal affection for Lauren, but by concern that everything appear proper and above suspicion.
She had spread the word of Lauren’s background through several famed gossips. The story was that Lauren’s parents couldn’t attend the wedding because her father was suffering from a heart condition that made travel impossible. Lauren’s dear mother had far too many responsibilities to oversee the wedding, so Olivia had graciously offered to handle it. If anyone was suspicious, they feared the indomitable Olivia too much to say so.
