by Helen Conrad
She bit her lip and glanced out the porthole. “Do you
think anyone saw us?”
“If they were looking.” He chuckled when she reddened at his words. “What do you think they assumed we were coming out here for, to teach you navigation?”
She laughed, and he laughed, and he reached out to touch the tip of her breast, and in moments they were down on the bed again, preparing to rock the boat, and she didn't care a bit.
This time their lovemaking was slow and sensuous. Rick handled her as though she were made of something precious and breakable—until she demanded firmer treatment. But through it all, she felt loved, protected. Almost worshiped. And when they were lying side by side, spent again, there were tears in her eyes.
He was almost too much, too wonderful. He was spoiling her for the real world. But she loved him and she couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. That was her fate.
She was crazy in love with him and she knew it was hopeless. She closed her eyes and tried to squeeze the sadness back. She knew he wasn't hers to keep. He belonged to a different world beyond her reach. She was a fool to love him. But she couldn’t help it.
Rick was staring at the teak ceiling, filled with an emotion he'd never had before. He wasn't sure what it was, he only knew he wanted to do something to keep Terry by his side, to show the world that she was his and his alone. There was a fierce possessiveness growing inside him, and he had an impatient urge to act on it.
He wanted to marry her.
He'd never wanted to marry a woman this way before in his life. Even with Claire it had been a partly a duty rather than a need. He'd gone along with it because he’d been crazy about her and it had seemed like the right thing to do, the time to marry, and he'd had no more pressing plans. Every other woman in his life had been connected with him so casually, he could hardly remember their names. He'd assumed most of his life that he was incapable of anything deeper.
And now this. He wanted to marry Terry. He felt slightly dizzy when he looked at her. What was she going to say when he told her?
“Hey,” he said, pulling her around to face him. “How do you feel?”
His smile was irresistible.
“Like a princess,” she murmured teasingly, “whose frog turned into a handsome prince after all.”
He laughed and dug his fingers into her thick hair. She was so adorable. He was determined to lock her up, to tie her to him.
“Grow your hair long for me, Terry,” he murmured, tugging on it. “I'll put you in a tower, like Rapunzel, and keep you all for myself.”
My lover, he thought to himself. My wife.
“I'll ride into the forest and call your name and you'll lower your long beautiful hair for me to climb.” He nipped at her ear. “And then we'll make magnificent love and I'll hold your heart captive, like a small wild bird. ...”
Terry smiled back, but his words had conjured up a sudden picture she didn't like. She knew that a lot of rich men kept mistresses in expensive apartments in the city, sitting alone and waiting for their “man” to spare them a moment of time, living for nothing else. She wouldn't be surprised to find out that Rick had done things like that before himself.
But not with her, she thought fiercely. She was nobody's love slave. The Rapunzel image didn't fit with her sense of self.
“Haven't you heard?” she said back, being careful to maintain the light, teasing tone. “Rapunzel’s joined the modern age. She's been climbing down the castle wall herself to picket for equal rights for princesses.” She gave him a playful punch in the ribs. “You may come riding out and find only a rope escape ladder hanging where Rapunzel's hair ought to be.”
Rick stared at her. He thought she knew what he'd been implying when he'd compared her to Rapunzel. Surely she could tell how he felt, how much he wanted to bind her more closely. She'd understood, and she'd turned the Rapunzel image around to tell him subtly that it would never do-—that she didn't want to be tied down.
For just a moment her eyes reminded him of his ex-wife's and he flinched. Her rejection hit him like a slap in the face, and something hard and cold closed around his heart.
But he wasn't about to come out into the open with it. “How about Sleeping Beauty, then?” he suggested lightly. “And you come awake only when I kiss you.”
“How about Little Red Riding Hood?” she countered, flirting with her eyes. “Somehow I see you more as a Big Bad Wolf than as any of those wimpy princes.”
He laughed, though there was a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. She didn't want to be tied down to marriage. He knew that. But he wanted her. And he was just selfish enough to go after what he wanted. “The smart money's on me,” he muttered to himself.
“What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“How about a swim?” he said to cover his tracks. Rising from the bed, he held out a hand to her.
“In bathing suits?” she asked as she let him pull her up.
“Unfortunately, I think we'd better,” he answered, smiling at her. He pulled her close and filled his hand with her breast. “Swimming nude would bring about a bit more comment than rocking the boat ever could.”
He kissed her hard, a kiss full of regret and anger as well as passion, and she felt the new elements, but couldn't analyze them. They swam and rested and ate at a wonderful restaurant and came back to the boat and made love again. It was dawn before they fell asleep, and noon before they made it back to Mar Vista. It had been a wonderful day, but it was time to get back to the real world.
CHAPTER TEN:
Koalas Need Mothers Too
“Are you a mommy?” Jeremy's eyes looked hopeful.
Terry hid a smile. “No, I'm not.”
The little boy sighed and picked up his koala bear. “That's too bad. I need a mommy. Aunt Julia said so.”
Terry turned from her list-making and looked at him. “Did she tell you that?”
He shook his head. “She was telling Daddy.” He shrugged and started off. “My koala needs a mommy too,” he added wisely as he disappeared from the room.
Terry watched him go, frowning. Little boys shouldn't have to search for mothers.
But she didn't want to think about that. She'd been gliding on happiness lately. Thinking about reality would bring her down off that cloud.
In the time since Terry and Rick had spent their day at the marina, she'd tried to keep her mind on only two things—the charity ball—and Rick. They didn't have many opportunities to be alone, but they grabbed every chance they got. And whenever that happened their time together made up for all the loneliness in between.
One of the first things she did when they got back was get rid of Angelina. That doll had been a thorn in her side from the first, and now that she knew how she felt about Rick, she was ready to take action.
She'd knocked determinedly on his bedroom door.
“Come in,” Rick had called.
Opening the door, she found him leaning back on his bed with a book in hand.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he'd said, putting down the book. “How long can you stay?”
“Only long enough to take care of business,” she'd replied, marching right up to the chair that held Angelina. With one deft flick of her thumb, she released the valve at the back of Angelina's head. With a whoosh, the doll flew into the air and began to sail around the room like a spent balloon, hair flying, dress falling to the ground. In no time she was nothing but a wrinkled piece of hair and plastic.
“There,” Terry said with satisfaction. She turned sparkling eyes toward Rick. “And let that be a warning to any other woman who tries to get in my way.”
His eyes were shimmering with laughter, but he pretended outrage. “Angelina!” he cried, bending down to pick up what was left of her. “What have you done to my Angelina?”
“No more than what she deserves. Flagrant hussy!”
His eyes were filled with tragedy. “First you try to drown Caren. Now this.” He
shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, lady? You're lethal.”
“Keep that in mind,” she snapped out smartly, walking up and pulling his head down for a quick kiss. “Don't mess with me, honey,” she warned mockingly as she drew away. “Take a message from Angelina.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, falling back down on the bed, arms open wide. “I'm your man. Do what you will with me.” His grin was devilish. “Come on. Torture me with kisses. Insult me with your body. See how much I can take.”
It would have been tempting to take him up on his challenge, but there were others in the house and she didn't dare. Throwing him a mock glare over her shoulder, she went to the door. “Just watch your step,” she warned him. “Or I'll be back.”
His laughter followed her down the hall, warming her. She only wished she had the right to warn off her rivals in earnest. For the time being she was going to have to be happy with defeating inflatable dolls.
It was only a day later that Julia dropped her bombshell. She and Terry were sorting linens and chatting.
“Oh, by the way,” Julia said suddenly. “We'll have to get a spare bedroom ready. Caren is arriving tomorrow.”
“Caren?” Terry froze. Things had happened so quickly between her and Rick since the last time Caren was here, she'd forgotten all about her. “How long is she planning to stay?”
“Just the one night, I believe. Although you never know.” Julia smiled. “Rick may be able to convince her to stay longer.”
Oh boy, Terry thought with a touch of sarcasm. What a delightful prospect. It really was beyond her how Julia could urge a woman like Caren on Rick. Couldn't she see what a disaster Caren would be as a mother to the children? Or perhaps, she thought a bit bitterly, that didn't matter. The important thing was that Caren was of the right class and upbringing to be a Carrington. Gritting her teeth, she shook away that unworthy thought and got back to work.
Rick came in a few moments later and she watched him closely as Julia told him about Caren's visit.
“Caren?” he said casually. “Oh. Great.” Then he caught Terry's glance and grinned. “Let's see if we can keep her dry this time, shall we?”
Terry's answering smile was wan. Suddenly she felt threatened.
That night she accidentally overheard Julia lecturing Rick in the sitting room. She was on her way in with coffee and she'd stopped outside the room to rearrange the tray.
“You're a grown man and it's time you did something about taking care of those children,” Julia was saying.
“Fine,” he said impatiently. “Why don't we put an ad in the Sunday Times? 'Woman wanted. Object, matrimony. Must be able to put up with decadent bachelor, two obstinate children, and one irascible, meddling aunt.'“
“Don't be silly. You don't have to advertise. The solution to your problem is sitting right under your nose and you know it.”
“Right under my nose, is she?” Rick began, but he broke off when Terry entered with the tray.
The two of them stared at her, halting their conversation, and she flushed, feeling like an interloper. Rick's eyes looked hard, almost angry, and Terry didn't understand why.
“Maybe you're right, Aunt Julia,” he said slowly, his gaze on Terry. “Maybe it's just a matter of choosing the time and place.” He straightened. “When did you say Caren was coming?”
Terry fled, her cheeks hot, her temper rising. He didn't need to taunt her with Caren. She was jealous enough as it was.
Just a few nights before Rick had told her he was beginning to take Julia's advice more seriously. They'd been alone together on the veranda. The children and Julia had already gone to bed, and Rick had gone out to sit under the stars. When the coast was clear, Terry had joined him.
“Aunt Julia's right, you know,” he'd said at one point. “It's not fair to the children to leave them motherless. I'm going to have to do something about that soon.” His fingers were teasing her hair. “Too bad you're not in the market for marriage,” he'd added softly.
Her face was turned away from him and she closed her eyes and steadied her voice before she spoke. “We career butlers like it footloose and fancy-free,” she lied.
“Right,” he answered wryly. “I guess I'll just have to keep looking for a wife.”
“Like you've done all your life?” She turned and flashed him a quick smile meant to reassure him that she was only joking. “You've auditioned so many women for the part, you ought to be an expert by now. Not to mention having a cast of thousands on call.”
He chuckled. “Bit of an exaggeration there,” he admitted. He leaned closer, put an arm around her shoulders, and began to sing “The Girl That I Marry” very softly, near her ear.
She'd closed her eyes and dreamed that he was singing about her, wishing, longing ... and now she knew he'd had Caren in mind all along.
She slammed down her tray in the kitchen, heedless of Anatole's stare, and marched out again, mumbling curses under her breath. Good old Terry Yardley was fine for a roll in the hay, but when it came to the real stuff, only a woman of Caren's caliber would do—even if she hated children! The unfairness of it all made Terry furious.
Caren arrived at noon the next day, but without her usual bravado. In fact, she looked downright nervous.
“Is Rick around?” she asked before Terry had a chance to greet her.
“No, I'm afraid he took the children out to the ranch. ...”
“Good.” She sighed with relief. “I want some time to relax and get freshened up before I see him.” She looked at Terry, suddenly seeming to remember who she was. “I'm sure you've been taking good care of our Rick while I've been gone,” she said coolly. “But don't worry, dear. I can take over now. In every department.”
Terry raised an eyebrow as she took the woman's wrap, but said nothing.
“I've decided to go all out over this,” Caren continued firmly. “I'm even going to play with the children. What do they play, do you know? It won't be in the dirt, will it?”
Terry ignored the question. “Does Rick know about your change of heart?” she asked. “It may not fit in with his plans.”
Caren's gaze hardened. “I usually do find a way to get what I want. And I want him.”
It was on the tip of Terry's tongue to tell her, “So do I!” but she held it back.
Rick came back later in the afternoon and Julia took the children into town to have a dinner with their Aunt Shelley, Rick’s youngest sister, leaving Rick and Caren to dine alone. Terry was forced to serve for them at the small, intimate alcove table rather than the larger, formal table in the dining room.
Serving for them was pure torture. She tried to glide around the table in classic, invisible servant style, but in order to do that a server needed to keep her mind on the task at hand. Terry's mind kept wandering.
In the first place, they were sitting much too close. Instead of using the two settings she'd placed for them, across the table from each other, they pulled their place mats and chairs around so that they could eat and talk side by side, elbows touching. And most of their conversation was made in such soft voices, they had to bend close to hear, and Terry missed most of it herself.
She almost spilled soup on Caren's silk sarong, but Rick caught the bowl in time, scooping it out of the air in spectacular fashion, to Caren's enthusiastic applause.
As he handed back the bowl his look was questioning, but Terry refused to show any embarrassment.
“Clumsy of you, Yardley,” he drawled.
Her eyes were cool and level. “It won't happen again, sir.”
“Won't it?” His grin was skeptical, but he sat back down and seemed to forget all about her. She went on serving, cursing her own clumsiness, cursing butler-dom in general, and most of all, cursing Caren.
Rick laughed much too hard at Caren's quips and Caren leaned much too close to him every time she had something to say. Holding the serving plate while they each took their share of the shrimp rosemary, Terry decided she understood what
drove some murderers to their evil deeds.
At last the awful dinner was over and she had only to serve the after-dinner drinks and coffee before she could escape. She brought in the liqueur in the tiny crystal glasses, and as she left, Rick rose and followed her to the door.
“That will be all, Yardley,” he said. “We can manage from here.” Leaning out where only she could hear, he added, “Do you remember how I asked you to help shield me from the women Julia brought around?”
She nodded, eyes wide and hopeful.
He grinned. “Well, as of now, you can cancel that order. I think I can handle this one all by myself.”
She fought hard to keep her disappointment from showing. “Great,” she said through clenched teeth. “I was hoping for an early night.” Whirling, she marched away.
The next few hours stretched endlessly. She tried going to bed, but she couldn't lie still. Slipping across the hall, she borrowed Erica's iPod and earbuds, but when she got back to her room she found she couldn't isolate herself that way. She had to know what was going on in the house.
Moments later she was sorry she hadn't wrapped her head in noise. First there was a scraping in the hall, then a distinctive giggle. Rick and Caren were coming upstairs.
She waited, breath held, for him to leave Caren at the bedroom Terry had prepared. But they walked right past it. They were whispering, but not softly enough.
“Oh Rick, you sly dog...” came through clearly, and then more giggles.
Terry was suspended, not breathing, not hoping. She heard Rick's door open, then a shriek of laughter from Caren, an outburst that was quickly stifled, as though he'd covered her mouth with something, and then the door was firmly closed and there wasn't another sound.
Terry let her breath out in a gasp and reached for the iPod, jamming the earbuds in and turning to the loudest rock-and-roll tune she could find. Mind-blowing oblivion was better than facing what was going on in the room down the hall.
The next morning she was up before anyone else. There was no point to staying in bed. She couldn't sleep and she decided she might as well be doing something constructive. She was downstairs when a motorcycle arrived. Hurrying to the door to forestall the visitor from ringing the bell and waking everyone in the house, she found herself confronted by a uniformed delivery boy.
