Ford, Jessie

by Remember Me Love

  "I can't believe you'd forget yourself so!" she blurted with incredible calm, wanting to lash out at him with all of her strength, not knowing where she found the nerve to stare at him, sweetly portraying bewilderment when all she felt was fury and loathing. But she lost little time in retreating from the study, flying up the stairs, locking her door behind her, ripping her robe and gown from her body feeling unclean.

  Aaron's knocking at their door came quickly thereafter, and the mood he found her in was not one he expected, not one he relished. Wildly pacing the floor in the nude, she was not yet calm from her encounter with Easton, and related her tale in a harsh whisper. Aaron smiled wickedly at her lack of clothing, but his grin disappeared soon enough.

  "I'm leaving here. You've no further need of me. I've carried out my bargain. I'm only in your way," she tossed out her challenge, finally opening the subject she had delayed as long as possible. "Then you'll be free to make love to Marguerite with my blessing."

  Aaron frowned at her as he removed his clothes, standing barefooted now, in only his trousers, with his shirt open. She'd flung herself in the bed with her last accusation, pulling the covers protectively over her body, staring back at him with obvious fury. "I've not asked for your 'blessing,' " he tossed back at her, feeling tired and drained, not wishing to bring up this topic for discussion at this hour of the morning,

  "Well, thank you, for at least not lying to me," she hissed. "At least you don't come into my bed protesting your innocence."

  His dark eyes narrowed. He had expected the subject to come up sometime, he'd only hoped it would come at a time when he was less exhausted. "Louisathe-pure-in-heart. What about you? What of your affair with Alex Fielder? And you can claim no better motive than pleasure!"

  Louisa's mouth dropped open, finding no' possible reply for his accusation, her head beginning to spin. But he took no notice, his intention now only to injure, to inflict pain, and he knew his approach would be precisely on target. He threw back the covers of the bed, exposing her beautiful naked body, nearly unable to restrain himself from a sudden impulse to cease this form of attack and begin another, one far more gratifying than the one he forced himself to pursue.

  "Tell me, Louisa. What promises have I broken? What words have I said to you to make you believe I would be faithful to you? In fact, didn't I assure you I could make no promises? I warned you not to fall in love with me. And I don't have to remind you, do I, this is not a children's game of hide and seek. People die in war, Louisa, and for us, this is the war, our own little battleground. Maybe no blood has been let on these priceless carpets, nor men's guts splattered on the elegant furnishings, or on the richly brocaded walls, but the time is coming. Maybe not here, in this house, but soon―somewhere." His voice was hushed hut vicious, his eyes flashing, black and ominous. "And I'll fuck whoever I think will give me the answers I need―and I'll do it before your very eyes, if she asks!"

  Louisa looked back at Aaron's ferocity in horror, knowing what he said was true, trusting he was capable of doing what he threatened, and though she suspected he had suggested it to make his point, she shuddered, the images in her mind all too clear.

  And suddenly Louisa remembered this man who stood before her was not the man he pretended to be, not the gentle man of good breeding and wealth, not the protective lover whose name he used. Suddenly she realized she too had found his performance as Marshall Hudson believable. She too had acclaimed him another man when, in fact, he was not. Aaron Sumner, ne Andrew Sutton was "low-born," as someone long ago had so aptly pointed out. Just recently he had told her briefly of his coarse and violent life, admitting he only revealed the simplest facts. Now she could imagine he had shared only the best of his experiences, though his revelations had been adequately shocking, and Louisa realized she knew very little of the man who stood angrily before her.

  Aaron watched Louisa carefully, silent for several minutes, certain his words had stunned her. Some of his tension eased, and he sat down on the bed next to her. She said nothing, lying against the pillows staring at him, her luminous, expressive eyes full of pain. Her immobility concerned Aaron, for rarely, if ever, had Louisa not spoken her mind to him. But he ventured on, and though he was a little uncertain of her response, or lack of it, he pursued his course.

  Aaron quickly removed the rest of his clothing, his eyes filled with the woman he preferred and longed for above any he had known, and at least his physical attraction for her was evident to both of them. He moved next to her in the bed, taking a reluctant hand, opening her clenched fist, forcing her to hold her fingers around him, increasing their pressure slightly, then taking her hand from him again, rolling onto her, holding her hands at bay, and with the weight and motion of his body forcing her thighs open, nudging himself just inside her moist sensitive body. She struggled vigorously with him, but cried out almost pleasurably at his entry. Without volition her body fiercely acknowledged his, and when he stopped short, her look was at least one of surprise, if not disappointment. "You think yours is the only body that can make mine sweat and ache and deliver satisfaction?" he began sarcastically, his voice low, constricted. "You are wonderful―God knows, how good you feel!" he cried with feeling, moving quickly, his rough words reproduced in the movements of his body. "But let me assure you, Louisa," his voice uneven amid his thrusts, "yours is not the only pleasurable cunt ... here ... or anywhere else."

  As he spoke, Louisa at first lay tense and still beneath his familiar weight, but when his words registered on her, she became convulsive. She spit in his face, and struggled wildly, screaming furiously, incoherently at first, trying in her rage to shred his face with her nails. Aaron was amazed at her sudden strength, wondering momentarily if he'd not gone too far. Hell hath no fury ..., he reminded himself as he defended the most vulnerable part of his body, finally besting her. Louisa was outraged beyond comprehension. He had forced her onto her stomach, and was lying heavily on top of her, pinning her helplessly on the bed. "You going to―behave when I let go?" he taunted her harshly.

  "You consummate bastard!" she hissed into the bedding.

  "Make up your mind―I could probably sleep soundly all night―just like this," he said, stroking her soft, shapely body.

  "Yes! Yes!" she replied exhaustedly under his crushing weight.

  He let her go and she turned on her side, curling her legs against her body, lying helplessly at first, her breathing hard, arrhythmic. She closed her eyes, alternately feeling both stone cold with shock and burning with rage. Her body was rigid with anger, and she forced herself to relax, lying still for some time. When she opened her eyes in the faintly lit room, she found nothing had changed. She turned to find Aaron was still beside her, lying, she noted, a good distance from her in the bed. And then she began to laugh, softly at first, then uproariously, which did a good deal to upset Aaron's sense of accomplishment.

  Then as abruptly as she'd begun to laugh, she stopped, quickly rolling next to him, gripping his upper arms, digging her nails into his flesh, looking him savagely in the eye. "Aaron, my sweet," she hissed between clenched teeth, "mine may not be the only 'cunt,' as you aptly pointed out, but mine is the only one you really want. You may spill yourself all over creation, but here is where you want to be!" She suddenly let go of him, shoving herself away, sitting up, leaning back onto her hands, enjoying his hard but questioning look. She offered him a good view of her silhouette in the lamplight, turning her luscious breasts for his full perusal. "I may not know every detail about your past, but I know you. I've made love to you, and held you, and you've made love to me―you've poured yourself out to me―in every respect―whether you know it or not. You may not love me, Aaron, but if you don't, there's no one on earth you love. And you'll never be done with wanting me! There's only one 'cunt' for you, Aaron, and it's mine!"

  With tears streaming down her face, Louisa jumped from the bed, dashing for the wardrobe, seeking her most protective nightrobe, but Aaron was beside her wrenching the garment fro
m her hands, throwing it wildly across the room. She struggled with him, crying. helplessly now, her own bold words shocking her, making her feel like something from out of the gutter―a place she felt Aaron had helped her into. He carried her, kicking and protesting, crying and screaming invectives at him, and threw her and himself on the bed. He lay with her, his arms crushing her against him until her sobbing" ceased, and for some minutes she shuddered and gasped for air. When she was still, he began to kiss her gently, but she lay tense and unresponsive. He rolled onto his back and drew her on top of him, and, for what seemed like a very long time, he rubbed her back, pulling her against him until she seemed to relax into him, and he held her quietly. Then he released her, and lay next to her, watching her. She seemed lonely, her eyes wide with sadness, but when he began to kiss her again, she returned his kisses and caresses, at first tentatively, then with passion. He touched her in the gentlest of ways, slowly moving his hands and mouth on her compelling body, touching her at last where he longed to be. "You must stay. I won't let you go," he said as he slipped into her body. "Promise me, Louisa."

  "I promise," she whispered, moving with him eagerly. He was tender, and she responded to him as if his hateful stinging words had not shattered the night, both of them knowing what she'd said was true: he wanted her―only her―and he would never stop wanting her. And for the time being, nothing was really changed between them.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  WAS it any easier, Louisa asked herself, now that she knew for certain? Hoping Aaron loved her, believing he only toyed with Marguerite for other purposes, had, at best, a very hollow satisfaction. The next time she saw Marguerite, Louisa's face became very flushed, prompting Marguerite to ask if she were feeling ill. What was worse, the woman didn't leave Louisa's side, and Louisa began to down considerable amounts of wine, listing between barely contained tears and giddy escape into drunkenness.

  "You must come with me to San Francisco," she heard Marguerite purr in her low sensual voice. "I'm leaving early next month. I'll take you to the best dressmaker on this coast. When we come back, we'll really turn their heads―something which seems to be increasingly difficult," she sighed, gesturing to the men who retired to another room, closing the doors on the two women.

  "That sounds like a splendid idea!" Louisa laughed. "It would be nice to have a really good dressmaker rather than whoever is available." Then Louisa pouted, impatiently holding out her wineglass to a servant for a refill of the deep crimson liquid. She drained the glass very quickly. "A very good idea," she said again to Marguerite, and giggled uproariously, silently thinking her private thoughts. How perfect, she mused. His wife and his mistress traveling together―what tales we could exchange! Or is it his mistress and his mistress―all the same to him. God damn him! She frowned soberly. He only uses me, too―just as he pledged, promising nothing else. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, feeling herself whirl, not unpleasantly, under the effects of too much wine. She was tempted to drink away her pain, to swim far below its surface, but she'd tried that before, she remembered, and it didn't work. "To the realities of life here in this marvelous house," she said flippantly to Marguerite when she again opened her eyes, raising her glass gaily.

  Marguerite imitated her, and took a sip more of wine. "Do you feel all right, Louisa?" she said, laughing lightly at Louisa's false but convincing gaiety.

  "As a matter of fact, no. Please excuse me," she said, standing quickly, hastily leaving the room and a bemused Marguerite. Louisa hastened up the stairs, feeling the blood pound in her head, stumbling blindly as her tears ran down her cheeks. Louisa shut the door to her room forcefully, then leaned against it, sobbing until she could no longer stand, all of her strength drained away. She collapsed at the foot of the door, trying slowly to recover her patrician facade,

  When she was calm she turned to ice, turning abruptly, knowing she was not alone in the room. She turned her head and the terror in her eyes dissolved to more tears before the gentle Loa Kim. Louisa covered her face and cried out her grief incoherently, while· Loa Kim came slowly to her, stooping with effort, reaching to comfort her. Louisa was unsure what, if anything, the servant knew, but neither woman was immune to tragedy, nor were they hardened enough to let the gulf of class prevent tenderness and sympathy to flow between them.

  When Louisa was quiet again, she looked up at Loo Kim, really seeing her for the first time. Her eyes widened and she sucked in her breath. "What's happened to you?" she asked, startled by the girl's swollen eye and the splash of blue bruises on her jaw and cheekbone.

  "It is nothing, madam," she replied, standing with difficulty yet reaching to assist Louisa from the floor.

  "What do you mean, nothing? And it's not just your face," she said in horror. "Let me see your arms and legs," noticing more bruises and swelling on her hands.

  Loo Kim stood motionless, frozen in her awkward and painful attempt to aid Louisa.

  "He's beaten you, hasn't he?" she whispered.

  "You are mistaken, madam."

  ''No, I'm not!" Louisa glared at her. "Don't lie to me! He's beaten you, hasn't he?"

  Loo Kim cast down her eyes. Louisa threw back her head and screamed, "God damn this house and all the people in it!" She leaned against the door. "I made him angry and he turned on you! I wondered why you didn't come to me this morning, why there was someone in your place hovering over him at breakfast. The filthy bastard! I hope he rots in Hell with the rest of them!" She covered her eyes with cold fingers, feeling them burning from her tears, her body sagging heavily. "What do we do now, Loo Kim?" she whispered, feeling defeated, lost, and very lonely. "You're a captive and so am I." She reached out her hand to the girl, who helped Louisa to the bed and brought her cool scented cloths to apply to her face and eyes. Soon Louisa's face was soothed and she decided to return to the library to play out the evening's performance.

  While Loo Kim carefully rearranged her hair, Louisa studied herself in the mirror. She smiled a benign, empty smile to the face she saw there, then glared at the beauty reflected back at her. This time, as last, pregnancy only made her glow. She was pale but radiant, her body not yet showing any distortion, her curves only enhanced, made more appealing. "No one, especially you, Aaron, will ever know," she said aloud.

  By the time she returned downstairs, the men had joined Marguerite, again, and though she wanted to spit in Easton's face, Louisa was polite but diffident, expecting him to assume she was still uncomfortable in the face of their awkward confrontation. She sought out her handsome husband, slipping her arm through his, holding him for reassurance, smiling into his wonderful eyes that seemed to smile lovingly back at her, glowing brilliantly for him and for his comrades. And when they were alone, she made love to Aaron, seducing and draining him of every ounce of his passion for her, while concealing her torment, her fury over her position, her loathing for being used by him, all the while watching him, knowing he was self-satisfied and complacent, his victories and his conquests sure, his losses less than certain, if not unknown.

  Chapter Sixty-six

  IN the morning, Aaron seemed very reluctant to get up from their bed. He lay for a long while on his back staring at the canopy over them. When Louisa woke, she had a slight headache. "From the amount you consumed last night, you deserve worse," he grinned, turning on his side to look at her.

  "Why aren't you up by now?" she asked, noticing the time on the clock behind him on the dresser.

  "We're taking a holiday. And I'm thinking of spending it right here," Aaron said as he began to play gently with her nipples, which fast responded to his touch. "Is it my imagination, or do you grow more beautiful with every passing day?"

  "Which is it, Aaron, are you going to be charming or sarcastic today?" she queried with obvious annoyance.

  "Don't be so rough on me, Louisa," he teased.

  "My head hurts," she replied coldly.

  "A little distraction to help your head," he said, moving his finger
s into her hair, kissing her mouth, very easily shifting her focus of attention. "Oh God, you give me so much pleasure," he cried, and she went after him hungrily, listening to him murmur about the way she made him feel, exciting her, making her forget her displeasure of the night before, wondering if she had any strength of character as she responded to him wildly.

  Long afterward, they still held each other, neither seeming the least inclined to get up and face the day. "We'll miss breakfast," Louisa said finally with no real conviction.

  "Who cares?"

  "The rumors will fly," she teased.

  "Fact, not rumor."

  "Don't you care anything about our reputations?"

  "Our reputations will only be improved by a day in bed."

  "We could say we had a fever."

  "We could," he said, grabbing her for the sheer pleasure of feeling her struggle against him and his rough play. When she had stopped her helpless laughter, smiling up at his own smiling face, she threw her arms around him and held him warmly in her arms. "Oh, Aaron, when will we be able to leave here?"

  "Soon." He held her, savoring her gentle embrace.

  She pulled away from him doubtfully. "What do you mean soon?"

  "Soon."

  "That's not going to dot When? I want to know the exact hour!"

  "You know, Louisa," he said, suddenly quite pensive, "if I weren't obligated to do what I am, I'd be tempted to join these bastards in their enterprise." Louisa stared at him in disbelief. "They've got a plan for one of the islands lying off the southern part of the coast that very much appeals to the sailor―and the pirate―in me. They're planning to set up a fortress to control shipping along the coast, and possibly to launch military action. I'm to be in charge of seeing the base is set up. We'll be sailing south soon."