This was one of the things that had been missing with Sean, this mind-numbing whirl of sensual pleasure. For that matter, she’d never before known this yearning to be totally devoured by another. But she knew it now and she urged Ben closer.
His fingers slid lower gently to draw back the gossamer cup of her bra until her naked breast filled his hand. Even the darkness couldn’t dull the creamy sheen of her firm, rounded flesh.
“You’re so very, very beautiful,” he rasped softly. She opened her eyes and met his admiring gaze. While he stared at her, he circled her breast again, sampling its smoothness until she felt her insides begin to burn with frustration.
“Please, Ben…touch me…” she begged in a nearly inaudible whisper.
“Like this?” he asked, fascinated by her rapt expression when he took her tautened nipple between his fingers and rolled it gently from side to side.
“That’s right. Oh, yes,” she gasped. “That’s right….”
“And this?” Lowering his head, his tongue replaced his fingers, tormenting that turgid bud with its moistness until she cried out again. The knot deep in her belly had grown painful. There was only one way to ease it.
Ben’s hand slid down her body, returning by the inside of her thigh and lingering to stroke that spot from which fulfillment would have to come. Abby gave a helpless moan and moved against his hand. Then, too soon, it was gone.
“Oh…babe…what is it you want?” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. The faint tremor of his hands as they framed her face attested to the force of his own flaring need and the price he paid to control it. “Do you know now, Abby? What do you want?” It was the same question he’d greeted her with earlier. Then she’d been in doubt. No longer so.
“Love me, Ben,” she cried, opening her eyes with the plea. “Please love me!”
Raw emotion had seized control of her. The moment was one of wild desire. It was only when Ben’s body grew taut beneath her hands that she even realized what she’d said.
By then, though, it was too late. The damage had been done.
Six
“Love me, Ben,” she’d cried in the dizzying heat of passion, but it seemed her plea had turned him off. Now Abby struggled to understand why. “Love me,” she’d begged. Was it that wrong?
She couldn’t know that silence hid the pain that would have been in his voice, that darkness hid the extent of the sorrow in his eyes. Yet, heart pounding, she did know of his withdrawal. His body seemed that of a stranger.
When he allowed a small space to come between them, the last of the spark fizzled and died. She sat, overwhelmed and unable to move, while hands suddenly cool and clinical repaired the havoc they’d wreaked with her clothing. Then he stared at her grimly.
“Love me,” she’d asked what seemed an age ago. Now his answer was blunt.
“I can’t do that, Abby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” The hardness of his tone belied the apology, as did the seeming absence of all feeling in him. His withdrawal was emotional as well as physical, and hence twice as hurtful.
Abby felt suddenly violated. Cringing further back toward her corner, she hugged herself protectively. Her breath came in ragged gasps. “Wh-what?” she whispered, devastated.
“That’s the one thing I can never do. Anything else—”
“But you’ve been arguing—”
“I’ll make love to you,” he interrupted curtly. “There’s a difference.…A critical one.” He first sat forward then rose to stand taut and straight. Only the deep breath he took showed any sign of feeling. If there was regret, it was deeply buried in fatigue. “Perhaps you’re right. You do need time. If you decide you can accept what I have to offer, I’ll be here.”
In a state of shock, Abby watched him return alone the way they’d come together. The night swallowed him quickly. Only the harsh closing swing of the front door betrayed his destination.
Then there was silence, abrupt and total. Gone were the sounds of pleasure, the gasps and whispers and soft moans that had been so recently. Even the owl was silent. There was only the melancholy creak of the veranda swing as it recovered from Ben’s abrupt departure.
Bewilderment held Abby immobile. Then, when the haze of raw emotion finally began to lift, she understood. “Love me, Ben,” she’d cried.
Love! She’d meant it figuratively; he’d taken it literally. But there was no confusion as to his vow, not the slightest chance of a misunderstanding. The one thing he wouldn’t do was to give her his love.
But then…she didn’t want that! She and Ben were simply two people thrown together in a situation of mutual attraction. Nothing more. She had no more desire to fall in love than he had. After all, she had her job, her house, her friends….
Why, then, she asked herself, as she idly swung back and forth, had she begged Ben to make love to her? Had she simply been driven by the force of an awesome physical attraction…or was there something more?
Refusing to consider the alternatives, she hastily rose and retraced her steps along the veranda and back into the inn, where the scene was much as she’d found it on the way out. This time, though, it was she who nodded in passing to the guard. There seemed no one else about.
Relieved that Ben must have gone upstairs, she took that route herself. But was she relieved? Or disappointed? Had one small part of her hoped he’d have softened and returned to find her?
Head down, she ran quietly up the stairs, slowing her steps only at the third-floor landing. Ben was there, in his room right next to hers. Was he listening for her? Was he aware of the hurt, the…abandonment she felt? Or was he so lost in his self-imposed lovelessness that he couldn’t feel for others?
Somehow, try as she might, she couldn’t believe that possible. Everything she’d learned about Ben Wyeth had pointed to a man whose warmth was genuine. And she refused to believe that his feelings toward her were purely physical!
As silently as possible, so as not to disturb that one particular neighbor, she let herself into her room. He was afraid! That had to be it! Afraid! The more she pondered it, the more sense it made. Here was a man who’d been tragically hurt once when the wife he’d loved had been abruptly taken from him. He’d talked of disillusionment and pain. How fitting that he’d try to protect himself for the future.
Fitting…and tragic in itself. For Ben Wyeth was a man to be loved wholeheartedly, and he was a man to give likewise in return. That Abby knew with her mind as well as her heart, though she was at a total loss as to what to do with the knowledge.
Frustrated and downhearted, she showered, then climbed into bed with her book. What had he said…that some Saturday nights he’d pick up a good book and read until all hours of the night? It seemed to Abby the only remedy for this night, when she knew that sleep would elude her. And Sunday mornings…they were good for sleeping late….
This Sunday was no exception, despite the fact that Abby’s late night had been only in part due to the book she’d read. Brooding had taken its toll and she slept until after ten to compensate.
Even then, she felt unusually lazy. And the heavily overcast skies were uninspiring. On a whim, she phoned the front desk to see if she might have muffins and tea sent up. When the response was an accommodating affirmative, she slid back down beneath the covers to indulge in several moments’ idleness.
It seemed she’d no more than drawn up the quilt when she heard a soft knock at the door. Room service? So quickly? Jumping up, she threw on her robe. “Coming!”
“Abby…it’s me,” came Patsy’s timid voice, and not room service at all.
Abby quickly opened the door. “Patsy! Come on in.”
“I’m not disturbing you then?” the blonde asked, taking in the unmade bed and Abby’s bathrobe at a glance. “I mean,” she whispered with a grimace, “you’re alone, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am! And you’re certainly not disturbing me. I woke up a little while ago. The desk said they’d send up some break-fast. Shall I call
and have them add something for you?” The thought of talking with ever-cheerful Patsy was a refreshing one.
Patsy tipped her head to the side. “Hmmm, that does sound nice. I’ve just come from breakfast, but I’d love a second cup…if you’re sure you don’t mind the company….”
If her friend was unduly hesitant, Abby attributed it to her own newly arisen state. In fact, she usually did prefer solitude in the morning. This day, though, was an exception. “I’d love the company. What’ll it be?”
With a cup of coffee added to the order, Abby propped herself against the headboard of the bed while Patsy settled at its foot. “I got worried,” the younger woman began, “when you didn’t show for breakfast.”
“Oh…I was up late reading, and since there weren’t any automatic wake-up calls this morning, I decided to sleep in.”
“No running today?”
“Nope. It’s a day of rest in every sense.”
Patsy eyed her closely. “You do look tired. Is…is everything all right?” She paused. “I didn’t get to see you when we got back last night.”
The hint of speculation in her voice tipped Abby off; it seemed each woman had cause to wonder about the other. “I’m fine,” Abby said more softly. “It was a…late night, that’s all.”
“He wasn’t at breakfast either, you know. I thought perhaps…that he might be here with you.”
There seemed no point in feigning ignorance. “No, Patsy. We spent a while talking last night, then went our own ways.”
“On…friendly terms?”
Abby’s chuckle held an undertone of sadness. “In a way.”
“Only ‘in a way’? Surely you can do better than that.”
“Aw, Patsy, don’t get your hopes up. Matchmaking isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“But you two are so perfect for each other.”
Abby frowned. “Not…quite.” She gave each word due emphasis.
Again Patsy grew hesitant. “Want to talk about it?”
Strangely Abby did. “There’s not an awful lot to say.” She shrugged. “You’re right. He’s gorgeous. He’s also very bright and has a great sense of humor.”
“And…?”
“And nothing. We’re attracted to one another but it can’t go anywhere.”
“Whyever not?”
This was the hardest to accept. Abby’s gaze fell to the sheets, and she absently toyed with a linen fold. Finally she bit her lip and looked up. “Because Ben was married once, a long time ago. His wife died in some kind of fluke accident and he’s never gotten over it.”
Patsy’s eyes widened. “You mean that he’s still in love with her?”
“That’s not quite it. And, mind you, I’m only guessing based on what he’s told me. I’m certainly not a psychiatrist.”
“Well…?”
“He suffered terribly when his wife died. On the surface, he may have conquered the bitterness and pain, but he’s determined never to open himself to it again. He wants nothing to do with love. Anyone who has a relationship with him has to understand and accept that.”
“And what do you want?”
The question came upon her so quickly that Abby had to struggle to shift gears from contemplation of Ben’s mind to that of her own. “I’m not sure.” She tried to be honest. “I do feel…something for him.”
“Do you love him?” Patsy asked gently.
“Come on, Patsy. I’ve known him for less than a week!”
“What does that have to do with anything? With Bud and me it was love at first sight!”
“Speaking of which…” Abby was about to broach the topic of the man in the shadows at the hunting lodge when a sharp rap came at the door.
Patsy bobbed up instantly. “Here, I’ll get it. You stay put.”
Before Abby could even get her feet to the floor, Patsy had crossed it and opened the door, leaving Abby to wonder whether her speed had been in the hope that it was Ben at the door…or in relief that she’d been temporarily let off the hook. Whichever, it was room service, bringing far more than Abby had even ordered. There were eggs and hash browns, juice, toast, muffins and croissants, not to mention pots of tea and coffee, all of which Katherine Blayne insisted on leaving.
“Just eat whatever you want,” she said with a smile. “And if there’s anything else—”
“Anything else! You’ve got enough here for three!” Or…one woman and one very hungry man. For an instant Abby wondered if others had speculated on her relationship with Ben. Then she cast the thought aside as being unduly paranoid. “Thanks, though, Katherine,” she finished with a smile to match that of the departing waitress.
When the door closed, Abby and Patsy eyed one another in amusement. “I hope you’re planning to help me with this,” Abby quipped, shifting her gaze to the tray that sat proudly on the bed.
“Uh-uh…I’ve already had something….”
“Then have some more. Come on.” She glanced at her friend from the corner of her eye. “If you help me eat, I promise I won’t ask you any questions until…until we’re done.”
Actually, Patsy did have a croissant with her coffee while she and Abby chatted easily about the new ideas Patsy had for some sketches she’d planned to make that afternoon. When the last of the coffee and tea had disappeared, however, Abby returned as promised to the image that had nagged at her.
“Who was he, Patsy…that man at the lodge? Once we got there, you seemed pretty excited…helping in the kitchen and all. And then when we were getting ready to leave, I saw you with him….”
“You saw me, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Patsy grinned in embarrassment. “I was hoping to get away with it.”
“Well, you didn’t, my friend, though I don’t know if any of the others saw. Who was he?”
“He was…working in the kitchen there.”
“And you just…” Abby made a swirling gesture with her hand, “hit it off?”
Patsy shrugged, then nodded, her lips shut tight.
“But what about Bud?” Abby asked, choosing her words with the care of a tightrope walker balanced precariously between curiosity and accusation. “Wouldn’t he be upset to know that you spent time with another man?”
There was a generous dose of love in Patsy’s sheepish smile. “If he learned I’d been with someone else, he’d probably be furious! He’s a very possessive man!”
“So you’ve said,” Abby observed, recalling the very first time she’d spoken with Patsy. Then it had been an issue of Bud’s not taking kindly to the fact of her sequestration; now it was an even more volatile issue. “What were you doing today with that man?” Her near whisper expressed her concern.
Patsy grew serious, then troubled. Looking thoroughly torn, she rose quietly and crossed to the dresser, where she nervously fingered the lace runner. Her voice came softly; she didn’t turn.
“Some rules are made to be broken.”
“I know that,” Abby returned gently, “but aren’t you playing with fire?”
“Yes.”
“You love Bud, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Doesn’t it bother you…hiding things like this?”
When Patsy finally turned, her expression was enigmatic. “Yes, it bothers me…in ways I can’t discuss. And that bothers me, too. But I can only tell you that love makes exceptions….” She walked softly back to the bed. “Take you and Ben—”
“We’re talking about you.”
“And I’m turning the discussion around to make a point.” Patsy’s smile held an odd poignancy. “I think you’re falling in love with him, and if you are,” she raised her voice and held up a hand when Abby opened her mouth to venture rebuttal, “you should consider accepting him on his terms.”
Stunned by the simplicity of Patsy’s solution, Abby closed her mouth and exhaled loudly. Futilely seeking her fortune at the bottom of her teacup, she swirled the last drops, sipped them, then replaced the cup on its tra
y. “You mean…I should sleep with him.” Her gaze met Patsy’s and the fair-skinned woman blushed in apology at the bluntness.
“Yes,” she murmured. “If…you love him.”
“But I don’t love him, Patsy! At least I don’t think I do.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “It’s so difficult to know anything under these crazy circumstances! The situation here is totally unreal.”
“Is it?” Patsy countered, again more solemnly. “Is it all that unreal? Or is it simply different? After all, we can never know what the future will hold. Adaption is the name of the game, but love is the one thing that stays the same, regardless of how the game board changes.”
An Irresistible Impulse Page 12
