“We’re all alone all our lives,” he replied. “You’re kidding yourself if you believe otherwise.”
“Is that what you learned in the merchant marine?”
“I learned to take care of myself.”
“Oh, I can see that,” Beth said tartly. “You did a great job of taking care of yourself tonight.”
“Tonight was different,” he said defensively.
“I hope so. I hope you don’t make a habit of this sort of thing.”
“Give me a break, Bethany,” he sighed. “I feel ridiculous enough as it is.”
“Are you going to tell me about it?”
He shrugged. She barely saw the movement in the scant light.
“Nothing much to tell. I got tanked and into a fight. Somebody called the cops.”
“How did you hurt your arm?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “This guy I hit smashed a beer bottle and cut me with the end of it.”
Beth’s foot slipped off the accelerator. “What! I’m going to take you to an emergency room right this minute. You could get an infection.” She started to pull off onto the shoulder of the road.
“I am not going to any damn hospital,” he said with absolute conviction.
“Then maybe we really should call Dr.—”
“If you bring up Althea Reynolds again, I won’t be responsible for the consequences,” he interjected. His tone dripped icicles.
“All right,” Beth responded meekly. “Don’t get carried away.”
“Can’t you take care of it?” he asked, as she pulled back into her lane. “Put iodine on it or something?”
“I hope I won’t be putting a Band-Aid on an incision,” she said worriedly.
“Nah,” he responded. “I’ve been cut before. This is nothing. I was in a brawl once in Bilbao—some Basque separatist took exception to the fact that I was an American. He slashed me with this knife, looked like a scimitar.” He stopped abruptly when he noticed Beth’s frozen posture.
“Go on,” she said evenly. “It sounds fascinating.”
He waved the request away. “You don’t need to hear any of my boring war stories.”
“What a colorful life you must have led during those years,” Beth commented, striving to sound unfazed.
“I don’t know if ‘colorful’ is the word I’d use,” he said dryly.
“Dangerous?” Beth supplied.
“Only when we were in port. On board ship everything was very routine.”
“Nevertheless, you must find life back in Suffield very dull.”
“Restful, in a way,” he said. “There’s only so much high adventure a person can take.”
He sounded as if he were teasing, but she couldn’t be sure.
“And some of the people at home are endlessly interesting,” he said pointedly. “In all the world I’ve never found others to compare.”
That gave Beth a moment’s pause. Then she asked,“What about your car? Should we stop and pick it up?”
He shuddered in mock horror. “I wouldn’t ask you to go into that neighborhood,” he replied. “I’ll leave it in the club lot, where it will doubtless be stripped to the ground by morning.”
“Should we go to my house?” Beth asked. “I have disinfectant and bandages.”
He turned his hands out, palm up, to indicate that it made no difference to him. “I still think you’re overreacting.”
A thought struck Beth as she turned onto the country lane shared by the Curtis and Forsyth houses. “You know, I think I’ve gotten more information out of you during the last half hour than I have in the whole rest of the time I’ve known you,” she said, amused.
“You could get information out of a stone.”
“But not out of you. Not before tonight, that is.”
“I’m a captive audience,” he said, only half kidding. “It was either talk or be thrown out onto the road.”
“I’m glad you understand the conditions,” Beth replied, and he laughed.
She pulled into her driveway and turned off the motor and the lights. “Here we are.”
It was the darkest hour of the night, silent except for the sound of a few insects lingering after the summer, and the scampering of small animals in the brush. As they walked together to the front door, Beth realized that they would be alone in the vast, empty house. Her heartbeat increased as she unlocked the door and they went inside.
“Don’t you get nervous sleeping here by yourself?” Bram asked, glancing up at the stairwell ascending into darkness.
“I have a security system,” Beth explained, shutting off the alarm with a key. “My father had it installed before he died.” She shot him a glance. “And of course you’re just down the road.”
“Too far away to do any good in an emergency,” he said grimly.
“I’m used to being on my own,” Beth replied, leading the way upstairs.
“Maybe you should get a dog,” Bram suggested.
“I had a dog. I’ll get a cat. A guard cat.”
“You won’t think it’s so funny if this place gets robbed,” he went on, following her into her bedroom, where she snapped on the light.
“You’re turning into a terrible worrywart,” Beth said. “I’ll be fine.” She pointed to her bed. “Sit there, and I’ll get the things from the bathroom.” She went to search the medicine cabinet for what she wanted.
When she came back into the room Bram was seated gingerly on the edge of the bed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t like receiving aid from anybody, and especially not from Beth.
He eyed the basin she was carrying unhappily. “Why don’t we just forget this?” he said, half standing. “If this arm were going to fall off it would have done so by now.”
Beth faced him, her expression implacable. “Sit down,” she said in a tone that indicated she would brook no nonsense.
He sat down.
“Let me have a look at that eye,” she said musingly, touching the discolored flesh gently. It was bruised.
“You should put some ice on this,” she advised. “You’re going to have a gorgeous shiner.”
He grunted.
Beth washed the scratch on his cheek and swabbed it with disinfectant. “You look like you have war paint on one side of your face,” she said, chuckling. “Sort of like a bearded Indian.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he said darkly.
“If you’re going to behave like a little boy, you have to expect to pay the consequences. Now for the arm.” She undid the stained handkerchief carefully, then sucked in her breath when she saw the cut.
“Bram, this must be very painful,” she said softly.
“I know it’s there,” he said brusquely.
“You’ll have to take off your shirt,” she said.
He unbuttoned what was left of his dress shirt and took it off, slipping it carefully down his injured arm. Beth dragged her eyes away from the spare, hard beauty of his torso, concentrating on the wound.
“I think this may need stitches,” she said doubtfully. “It looks awfully deep.”
“It’s stopped bleeding, hasn’t it?” he asked.
“I think so. The blood is all coagulated around the cut.”
“Then it doesn’t need stitches,” he said abruptly. “Just bind it up.”
Beth followed his advice, washing the cut and disinfecting it, then bandaging it with gauze and tape. She stepped back finally, admiring her handiwork.
“The skin around it is cool,” she pronounced. “I don’t think it will infect.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You should have gone into medicine. You have a very gentle touch.”
Beth met his eyes, then looked away. “Let me just adjust it a little,” she said, fussing to cover her embarrassment. She reached out to refasten the tape, and then paused, her attention caught by something she hadn’t noticed before.
“What’s that blue mark on the inside of your arm?” she asked. “It’s so small I
can hardly make it out.”
“Tattoo,” he said shortly, pulling his arm away. “I had it done on a dare once in a parlor in Lisbon.”
“Let me see,” she said, curious.
He stood quickly, moving away from her. “I can’t imagine why you’re interested,” he said. “It was a childish thing to do; I’ve often thought I should have it removed. I did a lot of silly things in those days. I’m not proud of it.”
His attitude convinced her that he was hiding something. “I’d still like to see it,” she persisted.
“Oh, all right,” he said angrily, turning and thrusting his arm under her nose. “There it is.”
Beth looked down, her expression changing as she realized the reason for his reluctance.
“It’s a mouse,” she breathed, touching it lightly with the tip of her finger. The tiny, perfectly formed animal indented with his skin.
“That’s right,” he said tightly, yanking his arm out of her reach again. “Satisfied?”
Beth took a few seconds to absorb the import of what she’d seen. “Did you do that,” she finally said hesitantly, “because of me?”
“Yes, yes, because of you,” he replied furiously. “Why else would I put a damn mouse on my damn arm?”
Beth covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Bram.”
He stared back at her, his expression unreadable.
“When?” she asked.
“About six weeks after your father’s barbecue,” he answered quietly. “I couldn’t forget you.” He suddenly surged forward and took her face between his hands. “Damn you, I never have been able to forget you.”
Beth slipped her arms around his lean waist, pressing her face against his bare shoulder as his hands fell away. Hot tears ran from under her lids and stained his skin. He pulled her into the curve of his body convulsively, and she felt his lips moving in her hair.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Don’t cry.”
“You didn’t want me to see it,” she sniffled, turning to kiss his warm, muscular chest, covered lightly with silky hair. “You didn’t want me to know.”
His hand bunched in the hair at the back of her neck, and he turned her face up to his. “Don’t waste them, mouse,” he murmured. “Kiss me on the mouth.”
Beth moved before he did, standing on tiptoe to press her lips to his.
He responded with such abandon that Beth realized, for the first time, the effort he’d been making during the past weeks to control himself. Once he found her yielding and submissive in his arms the full tide of his passion was unleashed and it engulfed them both.
He kissed her everywhere he could reach, his mouth moving over her face, her ears, her neck. It was as if he were trying to make up for the deprivation of a decade in an instant. His mouth returned to hers, his tongue probing deeply. Beth moaned, returning each caress, unable to resist him any more. He did care about her, she was sure of it now. He might not admit it, but the tattoo on his arm was more of an admission than anything he could say.
“I want you now, tonight,” he said huskily, his hands moving under the hem of her shirt, running over her back. “I need you. I want to bury myself in you.”
“Oh, Bram, I need you, too,” Beth answered, drunk with sensation.
“Do you, baby?” he murmured. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do. I always have.”
He pulled the shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor. He bent his head immediately, kissing the satiny surfaces he’d uncovered. His fingers unhooked the latch of the wispy strapless bra she’d worn under Marion’s gown, and it fell to the rug too.
Bram had a nipple in his mouth almost before he’d seen it, his hand moving to cover her other breast at the same time. Beth gasped and swayed, the delicious friction of his lips and tongue against her sensitive flesh rendering her speechless.
Bram straightened, picking her up and walking to the bed. He set her on it, full length, and then knelt down, unsnapping her jeans and removing them. When she was wearing nothing but her bikini briefs, he put his arms around her hips and pressed his face against the silken skin of her belly.
“Ten years,” he whispered. “Ten years I’ve waited for this.” He ran his lips along the edge of her panties, tracing the line of her abdomen, her thighs. Beth’s hands clenched on the bedspread. He lifted one balled fist to his mouth, kissing it until it relaxed and opened. He pressed a kiss into the palm, and Beth’s fingers touched his flushed, hot face.
“Hurry,” she murmured.
He stood and took off his clothes while Beth turned her head, looking away.
“The light,” she said. “Turn it off.”
“But I want to see you,” he protested.
“Please,” she said. “I’m shy, I truly am.”
He obeyed, flicking the switch on the wall, shrouding the room in semidarkness. Only the glow of the porch light cast a dim pool of yellow across the bed.
Bram dropped beside her, enfolding her immediately. Beth stiffened when she felt the full shock of his naked body.
“What is it?” he said, sensing the change instantly. “You’re not afraid? Not of me?”
“Just hold me,” she replied. “I just want to feel you next to me and know it’s you.”
Bram ran his hands down her arms, over her shoulders, soothing her. “There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said softly. “I’m always gentle, and I would never hurt you, Beth. Never you.”
I should tell him, Beth thought. I should tell him now. But what if he turned away from her and she lost this chance forever? It could only be Bram for the first time. Only Bram, even if they were never together again.
He shifted position, slipping his leg between hers, and she felt the full force of his arousal. She whimpered, caught between desire and fear, unsure of what the next minutes would bring, but at the same time wanting him almost more than she could bear. When he reached down to take off her bikini, she lifted her hips to accommodate him. Then he pressed his palms into her shoulders, pushing her gently backward. Once she was prone, he eased his weight onto her. Beth put her arms around his neck and held him close.
“I never wanted anyone but you,” she whispered into his ear. “No other man even came close.”
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. There was an expression in them Beth had never seen before, almost akin to pain.
“Oh, Beth, how guileless you are,” he murmured. “You have the same sweetness you had when you were sixteen.” He kissed her tenderly, his mouth full and soft on hers.
“Make love to me,” she said as his lips left her own.
He did so, moving down her body, caressing her with his mouth and hands until she was inarticulate with pleasure. She clutched his arms to bring him back to her, and when he slipped his hands beneath her hips to position her, she was ready.
Bram thrust into her, unprepared for the resistance he encountered. Beth cried out in pain, and he stopped, shocked, realizing immediately what had happened. He withdrew slightly, lifting her against him, cradling her.
“Oh, baby, why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered.
“I thought you might not want me,” she whispered.
“Not want you?” His deep voice was incredulous, laden with emotion. “Of course I’d want you. But I handled you wrong. I thought, I assumed you had experience.”
She held onto him tightly, afraid that he might pull away. “Can we try again?” she asked. “I promise I won’t make a sound.”
He started to shake, and it was several seconds before she realized that he was laughing.
“What is it?” she asked, bewildered.
“You can make all the sounds you want, mouse. I’m looking forward to hearing them.”
She sighed with relief. “Then it’s okay?”
“It’s perfect. You are perfect.” He settled her back into the pillows and brushed her damp hair back from her face. “It may hurt again. I’ll do my best to go easy.”
“I don’t want you to go e
asy,” she whispered fiercely, pulling him down on top of her. “I want you to take me, fill me, burn me up.” She wound her legs around him, digging her heels into his thighs.
Aroused beyond control, Bram took her at her word.
And in the early hours of the fall morning, as the thin dawn light filled the valley, Beth had her desire.
* * *
“Are you all right?” Bram murmured, drawing the sheet over both of them.
“I’m wonderful,” Beth replied drowsily.
He was silent for a moment, and then said, “Can I ask you a question?”
She snuggled into his chest and planted a kiss on his collarbone. “You, Mr. Curtis, can ask me anything.”
“Why didn’t you ever sleep with another man?” he asked.
“No one ever made me feel the way you had, that night we almost made love. I came close a few times, when men pressed me, but I never could go through with it. I always remembered how it was with you, and nothing else could compare.”
Bram went very quiet, his body so still he seemed asleep. But Beth could tell by the quality of his breathing that he was still awake.
She sat up, trying to see his face. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”
He didn’t answer, merely pushed her back down into the cocoon of his body. “Shh,” he said. “Go to sleep.”
Beth settled against him, taking care not to disturb his injured arm. She ran a seeking hand over his heavily muscled abdomen. “Where’s the scar from the brawl in Portugal?” she asked.
He took her hand and placed it on his thigh, where she could just feel the thickened ridge of tissue, obscured by the dense mat of black hair. “Right there.”
“And what’s this?” she asked, touching an uneven mass of flesh on his ribs.
“That’s from a burn I got when a boiler exploded,” he explained. “The chemical ate right through my shirt.”
“I can see I was missing a lot by spending all my time in school,” Beth commented.
“You didn’t miss anything by skipping those incidents,” Bram said quietly, stroking her hair. “They weren’t much fun.”
“But you’ve lived life, gone places, seen things. All I’ve done is accumulate degrees and file court papers.”
He chuckled. “Nothing else?”
Reckless Moon Page 9
