It was then Aaron knew he'd lost. Short of keeping her a virtual prisoner, he suspected there was nothing he could do to detain her. There could be no hope of soothing this fury. And the worst of it was, he feared that if she fled she would be lost to him forever, and he sought to bind her to him, hoping to repeat the now countless occasions they had been profoundly intimate. He felt desperate and incredibly needy, and Louisa sensed his urgency, trying all the harder to withdraw from his rough, nearly violent caresses. "Get away from me! Get away!" she hissed, but his mouth and hands persisted against her furiously.
She continued to try to wrench herself away as he moved her, seemingly without resistance, lowering her onto the bed. He caught her hands, which reached frantically to push his mouth away from her breasts, and pinned her arms to the side of her face, looking into her angry eyes―eyes he knew implored him not to take her this way―closing his own, seeking to erase what he saw. He seized her mouth with his, kissing her forcefully, and she fought for her very breath.
Then he relaxed slightly, drawn into his love for her, wanting to feel again the pleasure of her fullest response to him. And slowly Louisa began to fight with herself as much as she did with Aaron. She hated herself, and battled with her own body and mind, for she had come to give herself to him completely―"stupidly," she raged. Whenever he was present, his very nearness aroused her. Even now her anger failed to lend her protection, and soon the heat of rage turned to something more compelling, her struggles becoming movements of surrender and pursuit. She yielded to him and to herself―as if there would never be another time for them.
She shivered and cried out to him, his touch like fire, searing and spreading desire throughout her body. "Louisa, my God, Louisa, believe me, I love you!" he pleaded, kissing her deeply, soon descending from her mouth to softer, more eager places. He wooed her in ways he knew she could not resist and when he at last came into her, filling himself with that incredible joy, her reply was so intense, he dared to hope he had some chance of keeping her with him.
But when the chains of ecstasy were loosened, Louisa cried bitterly in his embrace. He tried to comfort her, to reassure her, but she would have no part of his offerings. "I could never trust you," she said finally, soon yielding to exhaustion, falling into a deep but troubled sleep. Aaron covered her body with his own, drawing her to him, pressing himself against her as heavily as he dared, at last following her to sleep for a few short hours, lying awake the rest of the night.
She did not stir when, just before dawn, he rose from their bed for perhaps the last time. He looked at Louisa, his heart filled with bitter longing, certain she would do just as she said, and his darkest, deepest fears about their mutual venture would be realized. He hadn't feared the possible loss of his life in this enterprise as much as he'd dreaded the moment when Louisa would turn her back on him, when he would be alone again. He wondered now where his life would lead when he was safely out of this damned plot. Where would he go when, after all these years, he was a free man again? Now he could only think that there would be nowhere to go―Louisa was all he really desired from this life, something he'd come to grips with not very long ago in this very bed. And surely he would never again have her except by force. "God damn you, Louisa," he swore under his breath. And even in his grief he began to retreat to the protective comer of anger and hatred.
Chapter Sixty-nine
ON the surface there was no change in their relationship once the couple stood outside the bedroom doors. Aaron announced Louisa's plans to go to San Diego, discovering, he said, his plans to head south were probably premature. Louisa could not bear to be separated from Rachel any longer. Easton was consulted and several possible escorts to San Diego were suggested. Then Samuel set out to make the arrangements.
In public the couple acted out their roles, Marshall seeming more attentive than usual. "It's obvious he's going to miss you," purred Marguerite the following night at her dinner party. "I was hoping you would be traveling with me, not heading south!"
"Marshall must remain here, but I simply can't stay away from Rachel any longer."
"We'll look after Marshall for you. We'll see he doesn't get too lonely."
Louisa nearly gagged on her own polite response, seeking the cold night air as soon as possible. Franklin Carson followed her into the damp, offering her his coat. "Thank you," she said, wearily accepting his kindness. "It's stifling in there."
"We'll miss you, Louisa."
She smiled at him and patted his arm. Louisa had grown oddly attached to Franklin Carson. He had not regained his health as he should have, and he seemed, weighted down both by his insidious tropical illness and by the plans to which he had committed himself. Louisa suspected he had serious doubts about the enterprise. She wondered if he would remain involved if he believed he had any alternative now that he'd come so far.
"As much as I've come to despise travel on this side of the country, I almost wish I was going with you―especially since you've the good sense to choose not to go by sea."
"You must plan to visit me soon. Perhaps when Marshall comes home you could pull yourself away from here for a while."
"It's a thought," he said, turning in response to the opening of the door behind them.
"There you are," said Aaron pleasantly. "Careful, Carson, in this dampness you'll catch your death with your coat off. I'll get your wrap, Louisa," and he disappeared into the house again.
On the lantern-lit porch, Carson couldn't avoid noticing the flash of hostility that momentarily crossed Louisa's face. "I hope I detect nothing wrong between you. That's not why you're going, is it, Louisa?" He paused to watch her. Her eyes flickered an apparently stiff retort, then washed serene. "Don't worry about Mrs. Hill. In the long run, she can't hold a candle to you. He won't stray for long."
Abruptly Louisa turned her back on Franklin Carson, not wanting to discuss the subject even briefly. Everyone with any brains, and two good eyes knows! she raged to herself, saved from the silence by Aaron's return to the porch.
Franklin claimed his coat again. "I should go back inside," he suggested, leaving Aaron and Louisa to themselves.
Aaron placed the short satin cape lovingly around Louisa's bare shoulders, carefully tying the fastening ribbons across her breasts before she could begin to do so. "I'd like to go home now," she whispered.
"The night's just getting started," he protested.
She glared at him. "For you I'm sure it is. But I've no inclination to remain. I'll make my excuses. Someone from the colonel's staff will see me home safely."
"I'll see you home," he said firmly.
"Whatever you prefer," she said, moving past him.
Aaron reached for her. "Louisa," he said, pulling her against him, feeling her trembling, wondering if it was the night air that affected her. He kissed her, though she resisted him with a stiffness in her body. "Don't go. Don't leave me."
He held her tightly. "Marguerite has promised to see you're not unhappy in my absence," she said coldly. "She's a very charitable woman. You'll not go begging―what an enormous pleasure this assignment must be for you," she sneered. "Even if the purse isn't high, the other benefits haven't been ungenerous. There seems always to be someone in line eagerly to meet any need you have."
"You won't face the truth, will you, Louisa?" He held her roughly now, snarling at her in a hoarse whisper. "When you don't like what you see, you merely ignore the facts and retreat to your fantasies."
"My dreams seem no uglier than broad daylight―over the years not much has changed, has it?" She made a futile effort to extract herself from his grip. "I said, I want to go back to Crane's Nest," she added calmly when she stopped resisting his tight hold on her, coolly staring back at his intense gaze.
Aaron glared at her a few minutes more, both tantalized and infuriated by her. In the lanternilluminated dark she was alluring, and even what he regarded as her irrational stance did not make her any less appealing. She could be stark raving mad, he susp
ected, and he would still be aroused by her. "Where do you spring from, woman? Heaven, or Hell?" And to this whispered question she only gazed at him enigmatically, unresponsive, almost overpowering him with her beauty.
"I'll see you home now, Mrs. Hudson," he said quietly, when he could.
"Thank you, Marshall," she said sweetly, turning from him forcefully the instant he released her.
With Aaron at her side, Louisa found Marguerite and bade their hostess an early goodnight. "You know, at times lately, I've noticed you haven't looked well, Louisa. I hope it's nothing."
"I've been very weary lately, Marguerite. I must be homesick. I doubt it could be anything else."
"Well, you won't need to worry when you're gone. We'll look after Marshall. We'll see he isn't too miserable without you."
Louisa smiled and returned Marguerite's affectionate hug in kind, reserving her murderous thoughts for herself only.
Aaron gave them a hair-raising ride home, Louisa wondering if he hoped to get a rise from her as he drove the horses much too fast even though the road was very familiar and the night bright. But she remained passive, despite her concern and her rising anger at his lack of caution. She tried to focus on the graceful sometimes eerie trees rushing into and receding from view with incredible speed. There was a time she would have loved such a ride, even reveled in the experience, perhaps demanded the speed to erase an unpleasant evening from memory. But such a time was long past.
Louisa felt very tired, heavy in body and spirit. If she didn't have Rachel to go to, she wondered what she would do at this moment. The new life in her womb gave her no solace, no hope as the other child had. There was little promise, and no joy. How odd it was. This time the man who had joined her body to make a new life was by her side, and the love she felt for him had been as overwhelming as her love for Marshall, perhaps deeper. For although she had gone to Aaron in great need, she had gone to him a woman, not a lonely, desperate child. Yet their union was, in its way, ending as dreadfully as the one with Marshall had, and she saw no hope for it.
When they arrived at Easton's estate, Louisa was relieved to have arrived at all. "Your years at sea didn't diminish your skill with horses, thank God," she snapped as Aaron assisted her from the buggy.
"There was a time you'd have been disappointed in less of a ride."
"Let's say I've finally come to my senses,"
"Promise?" he said, lifting her easily into his arms, carrying her despite her protests.
"Put me down, please." she said, making an effort to be polite before the servants who assisted them with the horses and into the house.
"You said you were weary. I'll spare you the climb upstairs. I'm the gallant sort, or hadn't you noticed? Never one to turn down the needs of a lady―I'm a gentleman of good breeding, remember?"
She laughed in spite of herself. "I think gentleman is an exaggeration, but 'breeding' certainly applies!"
Aaron laughed with her, but the moment was short. When they entered their suite, it wasn't only the night air from the open terrace door that made the room seem chilly. Louisa hastily undressed with her back to him, covering her body with as concealing a nightgown as she could find. The deep rose satin gown edged with delicate ivory lace did not do what she hoped, but clung invitingly to her curves, plunging deeply into her very round, firm breasts. She'd not worn the nightdress before, and Aaron's pleasure over the way she looked was obvious. She pretended not to notice, meticulously preparing her hair for bed, praying against all she knew was likely that he would fall asleep before she finished.
Louisa dimmed the lamp on the dressing table, but did not go to bed, instead sitting on one of the lounges at the far end of the room, leaning against its soft cushions. She tried to relax, thinking she might sleep. But she thought bitterly of the man who also lay awake, and she could not sleep. Soon her rancor turned against herself. Louisa, you are such a fool, she thought painfully. Then a voice inside her, one she at first did not recognize, laughed crazily and sneered, You're as much a bitch as Marguerite. You loathe him and long for him the same instant. It was as if she could feel his eyes and his hands on her in the darkness, and she wanted to wound him one minute; console him the next. You deserve him, Louisa, you're two of a kind.
Louisa sat up instantly and shivered, pressing her hands against her ears, but her reply to the voice came immediately. You're right! You're right, she screamed silently inside her head.
Louisa stood and paced in front of the terrace windows, unaware of Aaron, unaware of anything but a sudden numbness in her heart, a blessed anesthetic suddenly flowing in her veins. For several long minutes she stood motionless before the windows, staring at the moon.
As he watched her, Aaron was stirred beyond his ability to endure, and he went to her. She seemed nearly in a trance, seeming to have forgotten her wild struggles of the night before, seeming to have no memory of the caustic retorts she'd flung at him throughout the day, allowing herself to be eased into his embrace and carried to their bed. She let him extend his passion, seeming to respond just as he wanted.
But when Aaron touched her she was not with him. She was somewhere beyond his usually sure grasp, and though she was touchable and cunningly lured him, he soon discovered her coolly detached. Louisa was deliciously sweet and yielding in his arms, and she played him until he was not sure whether she offered more pain than pleasure, and when the explosion came between them, for all his effort, it was felt only by Aaron, and she left him wanting and needy and oddly lonely. She lay with him but was not there, and she went to sleep leaving him physically gratified but profoundly solitary, even with his arms full of her.
He pressed against her tightly as if he hoped to take something more from her, something of herself she had refused to give, something he had been accustomed to having in the past.
Later in the night he awakened her, and let her know his need for her, and again she gave him her body easily and willingly, meeting the rough urgent desperation in him with passion to match his own, but he sensed it was all for show, having been there many times before, having in the past paid the fees for the best in the house.
"You're whoring for me!" he said, grabbing her fiercely moments after she had turned away from him. He forced her onto her back, pinning her with his body, holding her hands in his across her breasts, staring with obvious anger into her passive, unresponsive face. She looked fragile, otherworldly, untouchable in the silver shades of moonlight, and she watched his eyes, the tension in his face, and felt his body brimming with violence.
"Haven't I satisfied you? I did my best," she purred. Then a malicious smile curved at her mouth. "But the fee is not adjustable. Not now. Next time, perhaps―but only in advance."
At her words he involuntarily thrust his body against hers, crushing her, his grip on her hands extremely painful. For an instant he knew he could have killed her, but she did not wince, nor did she move to resist him. He spread her arms, pinning her hands in his at her shoulders. He stared at her, and an incredible weakness swept over him. He put his cheek against hers, his mouth against her ear, his face in the fragrant silk of her hair. "Don't whore for me, Louisa," he whispered, pulling her against him, rolling with her onto his side, wrapping himself around her tightly.
"You can have me no other way," she replied without emotion. "As long as I'm here I'll be your whore. But you can have nothing more of me than my body. After all, that's all you ever wanted. You told me so from the beginning, only I didn't listen." She was very restrained, very distant, speaking quietly with complete control. "But I've heard you at last," she sighed. "I agreed to help you, Aaron, and I'll faithfully play out the last act of this charade. I've lived up to my word. And so have you." Louisa yawned suddenly, as if bored with the late-hour conversation. "As you say, you've broken no promises."
It made him ill to hear her ice-cold voice, her frozen words. "Bitch," he cursed in disgust, releasing her; turning away. And with no apparent effort, Louisa was soon asleep again, while
he lay awake the rest of the night. In the few remaining days before she left Crane's Nest, even though he lay in torment, certain Hell could offer no greater agony, Aaron did not touch her. And the worst of it was, Louisa didn't seem to care.
Chapter Seventy
A few days later Louisa met Ben Patrick and Jack Herbert. They were coarse, rugged men, but they had the experience to see her to San Diego. They had worked occasionally for Easton, and any anxiety Louisa had gave way to her desire to be out of Aaron's presence and home again―if she could call San Diego home. As she made her final preparations to leave Crane's Nest, Louisa felt more like a nomad than a woman with some definite place to go. It seemed to her she was forever packing her belongings, forever going elsewhere, never resting in one place for very long, never really secure when she laid her head on her pillow at night. Someday that feeling would disappear, she insisted. Someday she would be safe and comfortable. Perhaps when she settled in again with Rachel. Surely no one would come after her now. Who could possibly want anything further from her? She had nothing left to give.
The last few days and nights at Crane's Nest were like a dream. Most of the time Louisa felt detached, only a voyeur. Numbly she watched the affairs and the people of the house. Those around her couldn't fail to notice her silences, her slowness to respond, but they excused her distraction, knowing she would miss her husband. She almost seemed drugged, though she slept fitfully most nights, usually alone in her bed until the very early hours of the morning.
She told herself the anticipation of her journey home was responsible for her sleeplessness, but there were too many moments she would lie waiting, wondering when Aaron would return, and in what condition. On the last night of her stay in Easton's magnificent house she barely slept, the minutes ticking away soundlessly in the murmurs of the night wind.
Ford, Jessie Page 35
