This man who was looking at her with such calculating perusal was her husband! The rings they wore, the promises they had made in the judge's chambers, bound them to each other with mutual rights and privileges. But theirs was a marriage in name only— they both understood that. There had never been a suggestion of anything else. Yet, looking at him across the table, she was suddenly very aware of the strength of his will. Hadn't he forced her into this marriage? Nothing would deter him if he should decide to claim her body.
"I wasn't referring to your clothes when I said you were beautiful," he murmured now. "You have the face of an angel—although your sharp tongue rather tarnishes the image." There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
Carrie felt a tormenting flush of uneasiness. "Does it give you any satisfaction that the wife who has been forced upon you will, at least, not injure your pride by her appearance? I suppose it would have been a terrible embarrassment if the woman who had your brother's child had turned out to be an ugly witch." Her tone was cool, like her eyes, but her mind was remembering how his warm lips had felt in that brief moment when they had brushed across her mouth.
He laughed softly. "I do not purposely put myself in embarrassing situations. Nor are things forced upon me. I don't do anything I don't want to do, Carrie."
She was saved from replying to that enigmatic statement by the waitress, who arrived at that moment with their lunch.
"You haven't drunk your champagne," Josh said quietly as the waitress left. "This is an occasion for celebrating."
She picked up her glass and lifted it to her lips, allowing her dark lashes to shadow her eyes.
Josh raised his glass to her with a mocking smile. "To Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Revell. What? Don't you want to drink to that?"
"I can't be as callous as you are. Or is this your way of trying to hurt me?"
"Come, my dear, don't tell me my wife has no sense of humor."
"I'm afraid I can't find anything humorous in our situation, Josh. And don't call me your dear. There's no one around to hear you now."
"Lower your voice," he said in a pleasant tone, but there was a warning in his eyes. "I wouldn't like everyone in the hotel to hear us quarreling so soon after the wedding."
"I don't care! I—I resent being here with you. I want to see Mike. Where has that shrewish old woman taken him?"
He had become very still, like a wild animal poised before attack. "You are spoiling our first meal together. Our plane leaves in an hour." Deliberately he cut into the chicken breast on his plate. "That shrewish old woman, as you call her, is a competent nurse on the hotel staff. She is giving Mike his lunch and will bring him to us in the lobby in a few minutes. Now, eat your meal."
"Yes, master," she said with sarcasm. "Is this how you treated your first wife, ordering her around like a servant? Well, I don't have to take it, Josh. As soon as Mike has the precious Revell name, I can take him and leave you any time."
"Don't push me too far, my beautiful wife." As he continued to look at her, goose bumps rose on her arms. "You will not leave me, Carrie, unless and until I allow it. If you try, I will find you and bring you back."
"Oh, stop tormenting me!" She fumbled for the napkin beside her plate and held it to her eyes, turning her face away from him to gaze blindly at the rich deep red of the carpet. How was she to bear living in the same house with this man?
He was silent for some moments as he ate a few bites of his meal. Finally, he put down his fork. "We must leave in a few minutes." He reached across the table and touched the fingers of her free hand which lay limply beside her plate. "You had better eat something."
"I don't feel like eating," she said wearily, pulling free of his touch.
"Carrie, these infantile tantrums of yours are quite ridiculous. Don't you think it's time you began to think about Mike and what's best for him instead of feeling sorry for yourself? You agreed to marry me, so grow up and try to make the best of it."
"It's because I was thinking of Mike that I am here now, but you can't expect me to like it. You make it sound so easy, to make the best of things." She dropped the napkin, and her eyes bore into his. "You are going back to your home, and you have managed to get Mike. But I—I know I'm going to hate it!"
"It doesn't have to be that way," he said with impatient curtness. "There is no reason why this marriage couldn't be very pleasant for you. You will have a good home and standing in society. You will have money for whatever you wish to buy. You aren't a prisoner."
A shudder went through her. "But I am, Josh, in a way. I love Mike too much to be separated from him. You have made it clear that you mean to keep him with you. Is it any wonder I think of your house as a prison?"
"You're exaggerating, my dear," he said sarcastically. "We make our own prisons with our attitudes. You must begin to look at the positive aspects of being my wife."
"Mrs. Revell," she said coldly.
He gave a soft laugh. "You may find yourself adjusting quite well to being a Revell before we're through." He tossed a bill on the table. "I find I'm not hungry, either. It's time we got Mike and left for the airport."
They made it to the terminal with only a few minutes to spare. Josh checked their luggage through, then, holding Mike in one arm, grabbed Carrie's hand and pulled her after him toward the gate.
When they were buckled into their seats, the runway falling away below them, Mike gurgled happily on Josh's lap, exploring his pockets mischievously until Josh gave him a large ring of keys to play with. The child laid his blond head against Josh's shoulder contentedly and examined the keys, one by one.
Carrie pushed down the resentment she was feeling at the way her husband had taken over Mike for the flight. After a moment she asked, "Do you live alone?"
"My mother lives with me. She has a slight heart condition and is a semi-invalid, keeping to her own suite of rooms much of the time. I hope you and Mother will be friends. She enjoys company, and while I try to visit her every day, I can never stay long enough to satisfy her. I would appreciate it if you would spend time with her on a regular basis."
The information that he looked after his mother did not surprise Carrie. The importance he had placed on Mike's Revell blood proved that he put a high priority on his family. "Your father is dead, then?"
He nodded. "For ten years now. He died when his private plane crashed. That's when I took over as head of the corporation. His death was so unexpected that I wasn't really prepared to step into his shoes."… "I am sure you managed very well," she murmured. "I think you are a man who could cope with anything life handed him."
His brown eyes swept over her, taking in the creamy curve of her neck where the silk blouse was opened slightly. "You are an experienced judge of men, no doubt," he said with a soft laugh.
"Not really," Carrie said coldly. She met his gaze steadily. "But I think I know stubbornness and ruthlessness when I see them."
"Meaning that those are my outstanding qualities?" He raised an eyebrow. "Nevertheless, I worked night and day for the first two years after my father died before I really felt I had a good rein on things." His expression changed to one of speculation. After a pause, he said, "I know things have not turned out as you might have fantasized in your adolescent dreams. But there was certainly no need for you to struggle as you have since Mike's birth. I cannot understand why you didn't ask for my help months ago."
"That thought never crossed my mind," she said, astonishment showing on her face. "Your brother reacted to the news with selfish cruelty. After he died I just assumed you would not believe me if I came to you claiming that Mike was Danny's child. Besides, the one time I saw you two years ago, it was obvious you didn't think very highly of me."
He twisted around in his seat and was staring at her. "Why do you say that?"
Carrie was alarmed by the sudden alertness in his eyes. "It—it was the way you looked at me, as if I were beneath your notice."
With a sudden movement he captured her left hand in his. "What a tr
agic imagination you have, Carrie. As I recall, I'd been in meetings all day and was extremely tired that evening." His fingers pressed the new wedding ring into her flesh, hurting her a little. When she winced, he relaxed his grip, as if he had just realized what he was doing, and released her hand, which she clutched into a small fist in her lap.
"You are not to tell my mother anything about your sister and Danny," he said abruptly. "She mustn't know that Danny refused to acknowledge his child, or that you refused to let the family know of Mike's existence. She would resent you for that, I'm afraid, and a friendship between the two of you would be difficult."
"Resent me!" she said fiercely. "If you and your mother knew the half of what Meg went through—"
His eyes narrowed. "I know your sister suffered. But I cannot condone the way you behaved after her death, without even giving us a chance to help you. It somehow smacks of a martyr complex, Carrie."
She made a sound that was half sob, half bitter laugh. Josh looked at her curiously. "I realize you were judging all the Revells by what you saw of my brother. Danny was headstrong, and he had been spoiled. He was only fifteen when our father died, and since I had to take over the business and had little time at home, Mother had full charge of him. Unfortunately, he learned very quickly how to get around her. Because she had lost Dad, she tended to smother Danny. He rebelled and ran a little wild for a while. But after he came to work for me, he seemed to settle down. I thought he was starting to grow up at last."
Mike had fallen asleep, and Josh shifted the child to a more comfortable position in his arms. Carrie bent forward, pressing her hands against her forehead in a gesture of infinite weariness.
"Why are you looking like that?" Josh asked with ill-concealed impatience. "What are you thinking?"
Carrie threw her head up, tilting her chin. "I am thinking that you had remarkably poor insight where your brother was concerned."
All at once he was scowling, his face unyielding. "My mother worshiped the ground Danny walked on. I will not have her disillusioned. You are never to utter an unkind word about my brother in her presence. Is that clear?"
"Yes," she whispered as he continued to stare at her.
"Good," he retorted and leaned back against the seat, eyes closed.
All of Carrie's being burned with resentment toward the man beside her—her husband. She despised herself for sitting there silently and taking his abuse. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling such hopeless desperation that she wanted to die. How had her life become so complicated in such a short time? How was she to go into Joshua Revell's house and face his mother and pretend to be an adoring wife? Her financial worries might be over, but she was beginning to realize that other, perhaps even worse problems had replaced them.
Neither of them spoke again until the plane had landed. Josh settled Mike, who was awake again, on the seat long enough to reach up for Carrie's white wool coat and help her into it.
"Will anyone be meeting us?" she asked.
He shook his head. "My car's in the airport parking lot. It's not a long drive."
She put Mike's coat and cap on him and Josh carried him from the plane. She brushed aside his suggestion that she and Mike wait in the terminal until he could bring the car around and, hugging the baby against her body, accompanied Josh to the parking lot.
The late afternoon was already gray with dusk. The days were growing shorter, and as Carrie saw the shadows of the mountains that surrounded this valley on all sides, she could easily visualize them covered with snow as they would be in a few weeks' time. As winter shrouded everything with ice and snow the valley might seem a protected haven to some, but it could be a prison to one who had no wish to be there. Carrie shivered at the thought and was glad when they reached Josh's car, a silver-gray Mercedes.
The lumber town was soon left behind and she listened to the powerful, purring motor of the Mercedes as it climbed the lower slope of the mountain. She settled Mike on the seat between them. The little boy's blue eyes were wide as he gazed at the interior of the unfamiliar car.
"My house is about five miles from town," Josh told her. "I hope you won't mind having no close neighbors."
"It doesn't matter," she murmured tiredly.
"I'll arrange for you to have a car, of course, so that you can feel free to leave the house when you wish."
As long as she didn't go too far, Carrie thought morosely. But she did not reply, having no heart either to argue with him or to thank him for what, on the surface, seemed to be consideration for her happiness. Knowing that she would have a car at her disposal did little to lighten her depression at being here in an unfamiliar place among strangers.
"What have you told your mother about me?"
"Only that we have known each other for some time—which is true, in a way. And that you've been raising your sister's child, whom I intend to adopt." His glancing perusal was thoughtful. "My mother is usually very tactful, so I doubt that she will question you about Mike's father. If she does, I'm sure you can satisfy her without revealing the truth. When I spoke to her on the phone she was very happy about the prospect of being a grandmother."
He turned the car into a formidable entrance with stone pillars on either side and they approached a rambling house of stone and dark-stained redwood with a wide, wrought-iron columned porch across the front. The center section of the house was two stories, with single-story wings angling out from it. Even knowing that Josh was wealthy hadn't fully prepared her for the imposing size of it. Although it was now almost too dark to see much of the grounds, Carrie could tell they covered several acres.
"It's beautiful," she said as Josh parked the car in an attached garage tucked behind one wing of the house.
"A good place for a child to grow up," Josh agreed. He took Mike and they entered the house through a door at the back of the garage which led into a small entryway.
Josh hung their coats in a hall closet. Then, perhaps sensing her nervousness, he placed his free arm around her shoulders and drew her through a large formal dining room into a cozy sitting room where a fire burned in a stone fireplace.
A tall, slender, gray-haired woman sat in a wing-backed chair near the fire with a half-finished knitted afghan in her lap. As they entered she looked up expectantly and smiled. Josh led Carrie to her chair and bent to kiss the woman's pale cheek. She took his hand and patted it fondly. "Josh, this has been the longest day of my life! I thought you'd never get here!" Now she was smiling at Carrie.
With one hand still on Carrie's shoulder, Josh gave every appearance of being a loving husband. What an actor he was! "Mother, this is my wife, Carrie. And this handsome fellow is Mike."
Carrie stepped forward and took the slender, coo! hand offered to her. "How do you do, Mrs. Revell."
Josh's mother clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Now, we'll have none of that. My name is Ethel, but I'd really like it if you would call me Mother. Welcome to our home, Carrie—your home now." She turned her smile on Mike, who, with an uncharacteristic attack of shyness, had tucked his head under Josh's chin. "Yours, too, Mike. Oh, Carrie, he is adorable."
Carrie smiled as warmly as she could. "Thank you—Mother."
Ethel Revell tucked her knitting into a large sewing bag beside her chair. "Sit down, my dear. I know you're tired after your trip."
Gratefully Carrie sat on the loveseat that faced the wingbacked chair with a large oval braided rug between them. Josh put Mike down on the rug, and the baby immediately crawled to the loveseat and pulled himself up to press against Carrie's legs. She caressed his golden curls, realizing that he was feeling a little frightened by the strange surroundings.
"I imagine you ate before leaving Boise," Ethel Revell said, "but I asked Betty to prepare a tray of sandwiches, petits fours, and tea for us. Josh, would you mind finding her and asking her to bring it in?"
While Josh was gone his mother questioned Carrie about her home and family, expressing sympathy over her sister's untimely de
ath and saying how admirable it was of Carrie to have taken on the care of her sister's child. The meeting Carrie had dreaded didn't turn out to be so difficult after all. Ethel Revell did not ask about Mike's father, perhaps sensing that this was a sensitive topic. She seemed to want to put Carrie at ease, but Carrie couldn't help thinking how shocked this sweet, gray-haired woman would be if she knew that Mike was Danny's child.
After they had had their tea and talked for a while, the older woman excused herself to go to her apartment at a far end of the ground floor, saying that she knew Carrie would like a chance to see her own quarters and get Mike settled after the flight. Carrie winced inwardly at the unexpressed but obvious sensitivity of Josh's mother, who naturally thought the newlyweds would want to be alone.
When they were alone, Josh said, "Come, I'll show you your room—and Mike's. Adam Carney, the groundskeeper and handyman, our housekeeper's husband, has already taken our bags up. Betty told me that Mother has acquired a crib, playpen, and high chair for Mike." He lifted the baby into his arms and went ahead of Carrie up the stairs.
On the second floor, he opened the first door in the hallway to the left of the landing and stood aside so that Carrie could precede him into the room. The bedroom was large, its walls papered with soft blue flowers against a white background. The carpet was thick and also a soft blue. The furniture was French provincial in styling, white with gold trim. The draperies at the wide windows were white antique satin. The undercurtains a pale, glistening gold.
Josh walked across the bedroom and opened a door, gesturing for her to come and look at the most luxurious bath she had ever laid eyes on. There was an enormous sunken tub in the center of the room. It had gold fixtures and a white satin shower curtain on a circular track which surrounded the tub completely. A long vanity ran along a wall with one large mirror over it, and the floor was covered with thick white carpeting.
Wonder and Wild Desire Page 4
