Hostage Heart

by Renee Roszel

  She wet her lips and tried out her smile. But she did not answer.

  “My dear.” The reverend pushed himself up from the couch and circled it to meet her, taking her hand. “We were quite concerned last night when you didn’t return from the interrogation—”

  There was a fracture in his voice. And Drew could feel the minister’s tense embarrassment before he continued, “Doctor Erhardt has just informed us of your desire to be married.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Margaret and I were most astonished, I must say.”

  His wife turned further in her seat, smiling pleasantly. “Oh, Mrs. Pollard, it is so very romantic, isn’t it?” She clasped her hands to her ample bosom, “Two young people finding true love. . .even under such dire circumstances as these!”

  Drew nodded, gritting her teeth into a pseudo-smile. “Yes. . .very.”

  The pastor turned toward Rolf, who now stood behind Drew. “I must say, Doctor, I am not one to question the Lord’s will. But I never expected to marry two people from such diverse backgrounds.” He grimaced nervously. “You really haven’t known each other. . . long.” His eyes passed from Rolf to Drew, “Are you sure it is marriage you want?”

  She gulped convulsively, unable to speak. An expectant hush cloaked the room.

  A hand on her shoulder made Drew start. “Tell him, my love.” Rolf’s voice was as soft as velvet, but his fingers on her shoulders held a sterner message.

  Drew found her voice, feeling the threat in his hand. “Yes, Reverend.” She lifted her chin a notch. “This marriage is very important to me.”

  She finished with a carefully selected smile to match the carefully selected words.

  The pastor nodded, satisfied.

  “Reverend Peabody, I think we should proceed.” Rolf spoke with casual authority. “There is little time.”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  The minister relinquished hold of Drew’s hand, passing her to Rolf’s care.

  As he guided Drew to stand before the hearth, his hand slid to her arm.

  Sarah and her mother quietly took a place on either side of the young couple. Now, with all obstacles out of the way, the pastor faced Rolf and Drew in his official capacity, opening his leather-bound book to the proper page and clearing his throat importantly.

  He began.

  Drew stiffened, hearing, in the familiar ministerial monotone, the solemn words she had heard over three years ago. Then she had thought that the vows exchanged would last forever. . . .

  She had been wrong, learning with Jim that there was no such thing as a true, unselfish love. Men did not have that tender capacity.

  So she stood, now, numbly listening to the same words again, yet this time the man beside her had made no pretense of commitment. He made it clear that he did not even consider her much of a woman. She was to him nothing more than his ticket to freedom.

  The reverend’s words came to her as if through a long tunnel. . . . “And do you Rolf Erhardt, take this woman. . .”

  She held her breath as his softly accented voice spoke the two words calmly: “I do.”

  “And do you, Drew McKenna Pollard, take this man. . .” Her mouth felt prickly dry and she could not swallow. A sudden weakness in her knees made her feel that without Rolf’s strong grasp on her arm, her legs would relinquish their support of her body. “I—I do,” she heard herself whisper.

  “Will there be a ring, Doctor?” the pastor asked quietly.

  Without a word, Rolf removed his supporting hand and withdrew the chain hanging from around his neck and placed it over Drew’s head, the small charm that dangled from it falling over the cowl of her sweater.

  She looked down at it in some surprise and fingered the beautifully crafted piece. It was a figure eight laid on its side.

  Drew immediately recognized it as the scientific symbol of “Infinity” and was struck by the irony of Rolf’s choice. Obviously, Drew decided, this was something of his own, a stage prop for the witnesses. . .a substitute for a wedding ring for a woman who would not have been his real choice had circumstances been different.

  Infinity. It meant “boundless, without limits.” Drew thought darkly that the only infinity about their relationship was the boundlessness of their deceit.

  She felt Rolf replace his hand on her arm as she lifted her eyes back to the minister’s face.

  “Fine,” breathed Reverend Peabody as the charm was laid in place. He nodded. “And now, with the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Closing his book, he looked up. First to Drew he smiled reassuringly. Then turning to Dr. Erhardt he said, “According to custom, Doctor, now would be the time to kiss the bride. . . .”

  Rolf lifted a hard halting the minister’s explanation. “A fine custom, Reverend, and practiced the world over.”

  He turned to face Drew, his eyes dark, taunting, daring her without the need for words. Drew did not draw away, but faced his challenging look, unblinking.

  His arms encircled her waist as he lowered his mouth to hers, his lips were hard and demanding, devoid of tenderness.

  Drew’s eyes flew open. His kiss was electric, sending conflicting impulses from her skin to her brain. Panic raced up her spine and she pressed her hands firmly against his soft suede coat.

  At the urgent pressure of her hands, Rolf drew his lips from hers. Yet at the last instant, he tugged at her lower lip softly, teasing it with his teeth. The move was so slight and quick it went unseen by those observing. But to Drew it was like a slap across the face and just as hurtful. She knew it was his way of showing her that he cared nothing at all for her feelings. . .or for the vows they had just exchanged.

  She stepped back unsteadily, throwing him a pointed look that he returned with a wide grin. Before she could move away, she felt his arm slide to her waist as he played the part of ardent groom while congratulations were exchanged.

  “My goodness,” came Margaret Peabody’s high-pitched voice, “that wind picked up awfully suddenly. . .and look at that snow come down now! And right on top of all the snow last night, too.”

  Drew turned toward the window. True enough. What had been a gently fluttering snowfall earlier that morning was now working itself into another real storm.

  Drew viewed the weather’s reaction to their wedding as an ominous sign, and while the Peabodys gathered at the window, she looked up into Rolf’s roguish face and whispered harshly, “Get your hands off me!”

  She jerked out of his grasp.

  “I’ve done what I said I would. Now let me go.”

  A solid knock at the door caused her to jump, and brought the remainder of the party to a tense alertness.

  “Remember,” Rolf whispered a warning as he motioned the Peabodys toward the door, “if we are found out, there will be serious retaliations affecting us all.”

  The pastor and his family exchanged nervous glances.

  “Don’t panic, Reverend.” He softened his words. “I promise you that if we keep our heads and hold our tongues, all will go well.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “You have done us both a great service.” He smiled down at Drew and squeezed her waist lovingly.

  The pastor nodded in sober understanding as Rolf released his wife and admitted the guard.

  Drew was amazed to see how Rolf’s expression could effortlessly run the gamut from enamored bridegroom to this ruthless, grim commander that stood before them now. His voice had taken on a gruff snarl as he dismissed the Peabody family to the custody of the burly guard.

  An odd smirk on the bulbous-nosed soldier’s face as his eyes passed over Drew made her stiffen. She felt a crawling unease, confused at his strange behavior.

  When the door closed behind them, Drew jumped again at the unexpected sound of the phone ringing at her side.

  Rolf moved to the low table by the door and answered it. After a few crisp sentences, he replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned back to face Drew, his brows knit.

  “This morning, I
issued orders to have your plane ready for takeoff by noon.” He nodded toward the phone. “I have just received word that new, heavy snowstorms and high winds will make air travel impossible for the present.”

  Drew’s dark-lashed eyes grew wide. “What? You mean we won’t be able to leave now? What about tonight?”

  Rolf shook his head slowly from side to side and ran long slender fingers through his thick hair.

  “It appears that it will be several days, perhaps a week.”

  “A week!” Drew’s words were a fearful squeak. “Then. . .you will send me back to the compound, won’t you?”

  Rolf’s brows arched in surprise. “You? I can’t chance it.”

  Drew took an involuntary step backward. “But—but I can’t stay here. How would you explain my continued absence? Certainly not questioning!”

  His face hardened and his voice was gruff. “I don’t need to explain anything. Those whom I command here know only what I want them to know.” He reached toward her and slid his hand up her arm. “In this case, they have been told that you are a very accommodating American woman, willing to give me your. . . charms. . . for a better standard of living, during your confinement.”

  Drew stumbled away from his touch, putting a palm to her mouth to stifle a gasp as his meaning became clear.

  He moved with her, taking hold of her shoulders, his grasp confining, yet gentle, as he continued, “That is the impression I will continue to promote until I get you on that plane out of East Germany.”

  Stunned by his revelation, Drew cried, “You told them that I—that I prostituted myself!” She tugged at his grip on her, wanting to get away. “You told them that about me?”

  Jerking free, she turned from him, irritably pulling a hand through her hair. “That’s just fine! Wonderful! The whole installation thinks I’m a tramp. . .and I’m sure they’ve passed that bit of propaganda along to the rest of the passengers.”

  Her face burned. “No wonder I felt like ‘Today’s Special’ at some cheap diner when your guard looked me over just now!”

  “Don’t let imagined slights make you lose sight of what is important.” Rolf’s voice was deceptively quiet.

  As he spoke, Drew could hear him approach her from behind. The pressure of his hands on her arms demanded that she turn back to face him. She was shocked by his face, now as glacial as the wind howling outside. His dark brown eyes held an almost insulting lack of concern for her feelings.

  “You don’t think that I would allow you out of my sight now, do you?” His lashes were drawn down, narrowing his eyes; his face was hard and stony. “I don’t give a damn what anyone here thinks. My only concern from this point forward is that you are my passport out of here.”

  He released her and crossed to the low table before the couch, pointing to the sheet of paper lying face down on its surface. “Until you and this marriage certificate are out of the East, you will be in my custody—and only mine—whatever pretense I must manufacture to keep us together. Is that understood!”

  It was in no way a question.

  “But this wasn’t part of the bargain! I can’t stay here, alone with you for a whole week!” she stammered.

  “Don’t be a fool!” he declared bluntly. “This is the safest place for you to be. . . under the circumstances.”

  Drew shot back, near hysterical laughter escaping her lips, “Safe! I’d feel safer spending a week in a pit of snakes than here with—”

  “Your husband?” he finished. Somehow, when he said it, the word took on a sensual connotation. “Is that what you fear? That I will insist upon my marital rights?”

  The words were carefully articulated, their importance accented by the raking scrutiny of his eyes.

  Drew’s stomach constricted violently at his unexpected suggestion.

  “That,” she flared, “was definitely not part of the bargain!”

  She whirled away toward the heavily frosted window. “You, Dr. Erhardt, are a predator of the worst sort. . . .A user, like all men.”

  She took a few brisk steps to increase the distance between them. “And since you brought it up, yes. I’ve no doubt that you’d take full advantage of any situation that came your way!”

  Her tirade was halted abruptly by her own cry of alarm as she felt her balance being wrenched away. With some surprise, Drew realized that she wasn’t falling. Just the opposite was true. Rolf had swept her up into his arms.

  “What—what are you doing? Let go of me!” she cried breathlessly, kicking wildly and flailing her fists at his chest.

  Rolf appeared not to be affected in the slightest as he strode with determination from the den and down the hall. His face was devoid of mercy and his eyes held a rich and unyielding cunning.

  “You do not doubt that I would take advantage of you?” He kicked wide the door to his bedroom. “I am of the opinion—Frau Erhardt—that we should put your declaration to a test.”

  The sounding of the door crashing into the wall made Drew jump violently. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the rumpled bed she had vacated earlier. Turning her hot face to his purposeful one, she moaned, “You said you wouldn’t. . .”

  He did not slow his stride as he crossed to the bed and dropped Drew on it.

  She began to scramble up but found his large hands pressing her shoulders down as he lowered his face to hers, his lips finding her own with a bold lustiness.

  His kiss was a heady mixture of subtlety and strength, more overpowering than the most zealous attempts Drew had endured at the hands of her first husband. Even in her fright, it affected her in a way that she had not expected.

  Her body was tensed and ready for a fight, yet while his wedding kiss had been a shock to her senses, this pagan use of her lips stunned her into a momentary paralysis.

  Her hands, fingers spread, were poised, unmoving on his chest. The warm invitation of his mouth sapped the strength of her will as her skin became charged with his touch.

  With a tremendous effort, she turned her face away from his, but he anticipated it and moved with her, his lips masterful, his tongue probing, enticing.

  One warm hand began to trace light strokes along her shoulder, making their playful presence felt beneath the cashmere film of her sweater as it moved silkily down her arm. His thumb grazed the womanly curve of her breast causing Drew to shudder involuntarily at the impact of his touch.

  “No!” she whispered as his lips lifted from hers to follow their tormenting path along her fine-boned jaw and rest softly on her wildly pulsing throat. His tongue sent feathery spasms through her body as he teased the sensitive flesh.

  A ragged breath escaped her lips. “Please. . .” she whimpered as her body, recovering from the initial shock of his kiss, began to receive warning signals, once again, from her brain. Fearful of her unfathomable reaction to his kiss, she pushed vigorously against him. But his strength was too much and she couldn’t free herself from his encompassing frame.

  Twisting sidewise she moaned, “All men are the same. . . . You get what you want, no matter who you hurt. You liar!” Tears welled up in her eyes and slid unimpeded across her cheek. “I should have known I couldn’t trust you!”

  Her last words were a hopeless sob as she gave one final, desperate shove at his chest.

  Suddenly his masculine warmth was gone. She opened her eyes, puzzled to see him towering above her, jaw working angrily beneath flashing, narrowed eyes. “You are right in part, Drew. I am using you.” He lifted his angular chin, but kept his eyes riveted on her face. “But only to gain my freedom. As I said before, I will not force myself on you.” His lips opened in a smile, but it contained no kindness. It was a hard, forbidding smile, like that of a snarling wolf. “For a woman who has shared a man’s bed, you have much to learn about making love.”

  “Love!” she choked, coming up on an elbow. “You call what you just did ‘making love’?”

  His crisp laugh was filled with malice. “Hardly. An invitation, perhaps. And one that I will not b
urden you with again.” His carnivorous smile moved up to smolder within his eyes. “Women are not so difficult to have that I will waste my time with a whimpering wife—no matter that the carnal use of your body is now my husbandly right.”

  His pointed remark brought her up to her knees, and she glared into his dark golden eyes, retorting angrily, “Touch me and I’ll tear up the marriage document. I’d rather be a political prisoner than your sexual target!”

  His smiled changed almost imperceptibly, now holding a trace of genuine amusement. “Ah, good. I see that I haven’t broken your fighting spirit. I would hate to leave thinking I had cowed you into sniveling submission.”

  “Leave?” Drew’s expression changed from anger to an odd panic. “Where are you going?”

  He shrugged easily. “To assume my regular duties. At this point, I can’t afford to arouse suspicions.”

  He turned toward the door throwing back over his shoulder, “I’ll be gone for several hours. Have a meal ready when I get back.”

  “I won’t cook for you!” she shouted angrily. But her only answer was the opening and closing of the cabin’s front door.

  He was gone.

  Drew jumped to her feet and padded after him. Reaching the door, she rubbed at the condensate that frosted the inside of its small window just in time to see him disappear into the trees on the other side of the road. He now wore the heavy, hooded parka that had been hanging on a hook by the door.

  The jeep was parked where it had been since their arrival the evening before. Drew puzzled over this, concluding that the installation must be well camouflaged. . .perhaps not far away, across the undulating curtain of blowing snow beyond the wall of rime-coated pines.

  She bit her lip and stepped away from the door. The low howling of the wind seemed to echo her own desolation as her feet guided her listlessly into the den.

  She became aware of the dull beginnings of a headache and placed her palms to her temples to ease the pain.

  Sitting down heavily on the couch, her eyes dropped to the white sheet of paper lying on the table. Disinterestedly, she fingered it, flipping it over. It was all very official and legal, this marriage certificate.