by Renee Roszel
SOMETHING woke Drew. Was it a door closing, or merely the spattering of snow against the window? She turned quickly toward the entrance half-expecting to see Rolf standing there. He wasn’t.
But her eyes widened as she caught sight of something else, something new to the room. “My suitcase!” she breathed, unable to believe her eyes.
She’d almost resigned herself to not having a change of clothes—or even seeing her suitcase again—and her pride wouldn’t allow her to ask Rolf for anything, not after that first night when he begrudgingly loaned her a towel. But her suitcase was actually here! She slipped her legs from between the sheets and padded to it.
Laying it on its side, she opened it carefully, pulling out a floor-length royal-blue velour robe and matching scuffs. She tied the soft, warm fabric about her chilled nakedness with the long sash.
A bath and a change of clothes—these were the first things on her agenda. It would be good to feel really clean again. . .and, too, a hot steamy room would be just the thing to help clear her stuffy head.
She quickly removed the things she would need from her suitcase and opened the door. “Rolf?”
She tiptoed into the den. He was not there—maybe the kitchen. . . .
No. She looked at her watch, puzzled by his absence. Eleven-thirty!
Goodness! She hadn’t realized she’d slept so late. Of course, by now, Rolf would have gone to work. Good, she thought resolutely. At least, now I’ll have plenty of time to myself to bathe and change.
She sniffed as she headed back into the hall toward the bathroom. It was a small, utilitarian room. The tub was white porcelain, deeper than American tubs. As well as a faucet, there was a flexible metal tube with a shower head so that a person could shower while sitting, or it could be hand-held for a regular standing shower.
Drew switched on the water to adjust the temperature. Her head felt like a bowling ball, thick and heavy. She peered curiously into the medicine cabinet over the sink. There she found a razor, toothpaste and brush, a new bar of soap, and a bottle. Drew absently lifted the bottle and unscrewed the lid. Sniffing deeply, she realized that it must be cologne, for the fragrance was a pleasant combination of pine and earthy spices. Suddenly she had an uncomfortable feeling that this was probably a gift. . .from Monika. Recapping it quickly, she put it back.
That was everything there was. No aspirin, no nasal spray. . .not even Band-Aids! Was Rolf Erhardt human? Didn’t he even suffer normal human failings? Was he never sick? She closed the cabinet dejectedly.
Taking a few bobby pins from her pocket, Drew pinned her chestnut hair up on the crown of her head. A few errant wisps defied capture and framed her face in impish disarray.
The water was churning near the tub’s rim now. Drew slipped out of her robe and scuffs and climbed tentatively into the slightly overwarm water.
Soon she became used to its warmth, and sighing, leaned her head back against the pale-green tiled wall, closing her eyes.
She breathed deeply of the steam-laden air. It helped. She felt like staying here all day. And maybe she would, she mused. There was certainly nothing better to do in this—this jail.
The caressing water and the total quiet were hypnotic, and Drew found herself nodding off to sleep. What difference does it make? she thought, groggily. At least in here I can breathe! And besides, Rolf won’t be back for hours. . . lovely, quiet, restful hours.
Drew smiled to herself, her breathing less labored. At least, at this moment, she was glad to be in Rolf’s home instead of some crowded barracks where there would be minimal comforts. She yawned. And probably no bathtub at all.
“So, here you are.”
Drew’s head jerked up. She was confused and disoriented. Where was she? Tepid water sloshing over her cooled skin reminded her that she was still in the tub. But that couldn’t be, because Rolf’s voice was so near.
Rolf? Her eyes flew to the door, as she blinked to focus her sleep-blurred vision. He was there, standing just inside the door, which now stood slightly ajar.
“What—?” she gasped, belatedly covering herself. “What are you doing in here?” It was an apprehensive whisper.
He closed the door, his lips slowly twisting upward. “I thought, perhaps, now that you have your things, you decided to try to escape from me.” His voice was low.
“Escape?” Drew’s rosy skin deepened in color with her embarrassment. “Where would I go?” Her eyes grew wide with misgiving as a shiver danced along her spine.
His lazy look moved slowly from her flushed face to the soft curve of her breasts, exposed above the sudsy water. What was his intent? Because of the bargain, Drew had put aside her fear that he would physically molest her. . . but now? What did she actually know about this man? Did he too enjoy mastering women by physical force—like Jim? Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. He could very easily rape her here, and there would be no one to lift a finger to aid her! A man in Rolf Erhardt’s position made his own rules where women were concerned. Her own captivity was proof enough of that fact!
Her words were hushed and hesitant. “Please, Doctor, I beg you. . .”
He interrupted her anxious plea, hooking a thumb easily in his jeans pocket. “Are you feeling better today?”
Drew was taken aback by his casual manner. He could have been discussing the weather at a cocktail party instead of standing forbiddingly over her while she sat naked and trembling in a tub of cooling water.
She became desperate, crying, “Doctor, if you are not totally without scruples, you will leave!”
He lifted a dark brow and rubbed a lean knuckle across his square jaw. “Sometimes scruples can be in conflict with a man’s best interests, Drew.” He took a step forward. “With stakes this high, I cannot afford to have them.”
Her eyes dilated in fear, darkening their color. “What are you going to do?” She sank deeper into the water until it licked her chin.
“Protect my interests, Kindchen. You’re shivering.” He picked up her robe. “Now, get out of that tub and back into bed.”
He stood there, holding the robe like a coat, fully expecting her to obey him. She didn’t move. Their eyes locked for a long moment before Rolf took action. It was quick, making Drew jump, fearful of a blow. But rather than striking out at her as she’d feared, Rolf had pulled the drain plug by its chain and the water slowly began to recede.
“You might as well get out now, Drew. But if you insist on staying, I will wait. I am a patient man.” The dark eyes watching her held a dangerous glint.
She sat, feeling the water slip below her crossed arms and down along her stomach. Very little was still hidden from Rolf’s all-consuming view.
She pulled her lips into a tight little frown of dismay, feeling helpless, yet her stubbornness refused to allow her to give in to his demands. “Must you shame me this way, Doctor? Does it give you a sense of power?”
“My name is Rolf.” He sounded slightly hoarse, as though his throat was suddenly dry. Those four words, spoken with just a tinge of difficulty, sent a primitive shiver of alarm up her spine. She looked up into his eyes and gulped at the hungry new light that flickered within the brown depths, and she bit her lip.
If there was one thing she did know about men, it was that look. She didn’t have much time. Moving quickly, she straightened and pulled the robe about her shoulders, slipping her arms into the sleeves.
Turning to face him as she tied the sash, she sputtered, “Well, Doctor, are you satisfied?”
“Not quite.” His voice was now cold, and the light had gone out of his eyes. He scooped up the slippers and handed them to her, “I want you back in that bed.”
“Oh?” She lifted her chin bravely. “And just why do you spend practically all of your time coaxing me into that overworked bed?”
A twitch began in his jaw and his words were measured in his attempt to keep his temper. “Drew, if you could see yourself now, you’d realize that my motives are anything but suspect. Your nose is re
d, your eyes, puffy. . .”
Drew had heard enough. Without another word she stepped swiftly over the side of the tub, brushing past him into the hall, making the bedroom door before Rolf caught up with her. He grasped her arm, spinning her around to face him. All tolerance was gone from his face.
“Here, take this.” He shoved a small bottle into her hand. “I don’t have time to stand here and trade barbs with you. Now get back into that bed. There is a lot at stake, and you need your health.”
His eyes glittered with angry sparks as he moved his hands to her arms. “Drew, do you have any real idea of what you and I are involved in here?” His face was close now. “One slip—by either of us—and any hope you had for returning to a normal life is over!”
Drew stiffened at the ominous warning. “Yes, Doctor,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I’m well aware of the danger. . .but only to me!” She pushed against his chest, more than vaguely aware of the sheer force of his towering presence.
She wanted to get away, her heart was pounding deafeningly in her ears, and she could barely hear her own words. She raised her voice. “But I can’t see any problem for you. You’re covering your tracks pretty well, I’d say.” Eyeing him evenly she lifted her face to his, jutting a persistent chin. “Remember? I’m supposed to be your whore. . .
The word was stifled abruptly as Rolf’s kiss seared across her parted lips. He moved his hands to her back, crushing her to him, molding her velour-clad curves to the granite hardness of his chest.
Drew strained away from his bruising mouth, but he would not release her lips from their captivity. Then the angry harshness seemed to melt away, replaced by a pliant, gentle eagerness as his lips separated slightly, allowing his tongue to begin its leisurely stroking of the ultra-sensitive skin of her mouth.
Drew’s defenses weakened and began a slow retreat from his sensual assault on her lips.
A guttural half-moan, half-sigh escaped her throat as she felt his large hands begin to move along her back. One traveled up to stroke softly below the damp wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. The other moved down to her waist, then lower over the soft velvety curve of her hip.
Drew knew this was wrong. . .or it should have been wrong. But it didn’t seem that way. She slid her arms up his chest and slowly encircled his neck with her hands, opening her lips to freely admit his masterful tongue.
As he pulled her close, Drew became aware of the rich, masculine scent of him, the mingling of clean, scrubbed skin and his own highly individual scent. There was no trace of the pine cologne she had found earlier, and for some wild illogical reason, that made her happy.
Her legs suddenly began to tremble and breathing became difficult. Time slowed, and Drew felt as though she were suspended in space, floating softly within Rolf’s embrace.
His kiss was torrid, igniting an unexpected yearning within her. And without hesitation, she molded herself to his lean, powerful masculinity.
Why did her body feel so alive within this man’s. . . this stranger’s arms, when with her husband she had always been hesitant of intimacy? Yet now there was a complete lack of any desire to hold herself back.
She lifted one searching hand to his curly nape, running her fingers through the thick softness of his hair. Drawing her lips from his, she moved her face to his cheek, pressing answering kisses along the hollow there, to his ear. And surprised at her own unshackled passions, she nipped softly at the inviting lobe.
A throaty laugh escaped her lips, a delighted, happy giggle of abandon. She knew a buoyant freedom and was oddly thrilled to feel his heightened desire as she actively pursued their sweet intimacy, reveling in her own womanly power over this intoxicating man.
Rolf’s lips were feather soft at her throat. “The lady is amused?” His voice was deep, lazy, laced slightly with a questioning tone.
Drew moved to face him, smiling, eyes the rich, shimmering color of sterling. “Only with myself. . .” She felt a scarlet blush rush up her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry. . . I seem to have lost myself You have a strange effect on me.” She paused, breathless, almost fearful. . .waiting. But for what? What did she expect him to say? What did she want him to say?
Thick lashes framed honest brown eyes that smoldered with undisguised desire as he placed a finger beneath her chin. “Do not be sorry, little one. . . . Your pleasure is my pleasure. . .a gift you gave to me.” His smile was warm, tender as he spoke. “Do not take it back with an apology.”
He moved his hand to finger the gold chain about her neck. “And lost?” He hooked two fingers under the chain. “No, Drew.” Kissing the tip of her upturned nose, he whispered, “Never lost. . .”
His hand slid slowly down her throat and over the curve of her breast, exposed by the loosened robe. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch as he trailed his warm fingers along, until his hand came to rest softly in the deep valley between her breasts where the infinity charm nestled. He caressed it as he spoke. “I am not sorry now that I did not have a ring to give you. . . .” His eyes moved leisurely to her face.
Drew’s blush heightened at the raw longing she could see in his eyes, but she was strangely unafraid of him. “It wasn’t necessary to give me anything—I’d understand if you took it back.”
His lips softly grazed her forehead, his breath warm and sultry. “I don’t want it back, Drew. It is yours.”
His even breathing increased its tempo in time with her own quickening pulse as he continued, “Once you and the others are gone, I will have the pleasant memory of its new home to warm my thoughts on frigid winter nights.”
He moved his hand to her chin, tilting her flushed face back up to his, his voice a husky whisper. “I may live to regret that you are not the tramp I made you out to be.”
Tramp! That one ugly word brought everything back into sharp focus. . . exactly why she was here, why she’d been placed in this danger. . .all because of Rolf Erhardt’s desire to defect to the United States.
And now she was actually in his arms, listening eagerly to his soft words and succumbing to the fiery message in his kiss.
She stiffened and tried to pull away. “Let me go!” she breathed, her voice breaking with the effort required to steel her body against the onslaught of his seductive powers.
His warm lips were moving down along her jaw to the hollow of her throat. “You don’t really want that.” His voice had thickened with need.
Something in her believed what he said. She didn’t want him to let her go! Fearful now even of herself, she mentally stiffened her will against him. You’re a stupid, naive fool. Drew. Don’t you see how he’s worked this thing so very very cleverly to get you to this? First he took you off your guard with his seeming indifference, saying he only cared about your citizenship. Then he topped it all off by telling you you’re too unattractive to bother with. . . then—bam! He’s whispering in your ear that he wishes you were a tramp. He wants everything—your citizenship and your body! And God forgive you—you almost gave in to him, you almost allowed your emotions to be swept away by this—this scoundrel!
Near panic with the awful realization of his scheming duplicity, Drew flailed out wildly, hitting his cheek with the forgotten bottle. “I said let go of me!” It was a miserable wail.
He pulled away, startled at the unexpected blow to his face.
Taking advantage of his surprise, Drew spun around and darted through the bedroom door, closing it solidly between them.
“Drew!” His voice was uncannily close to the snarl of a wounded animal. “What the hell—?”
“Get out of here and leave me alone!”she sobbed into the back of her trembling hand as she leaned against the door. “I can’t stand the sight of you.” Her voice broke. “Don’t you ever try to put your”—a slam of the cabin’s front door cut through her verbal attack—“hands on me again. . .It came out in a long, desolate sob.
Her hand shook badly as she wiped at the steady stream of tears that rolled down her heated cheeks. Wit
h a frown, Drew realized that she still clutched the small glass bottle, the weapon she’d just slammed into Rolf’s face.
Squinting, she tried to clear her vision. The label was small and blurry before her, but the content description was easy enough to read. . . even in German.
It was aspirin.
Chapter Five
Drew tossed restlessly in the bed and peered at the luminous dial of her watch. 2:00 A.M. Rolf was still gone. It seemed that he was always gone now. . .since that ugly scene four days ago when she’d marked him with the bottle of aspirin.
Turning to her stomach, she pushed her pillow away and lay with her head on the back of her hands, eyes wide, recalling Rolf’s face the first evening after their fight. She had been sitting in the den when he returned. Flinching even now at the memory of his face, Drew recalled the vivid image of the large, swollen bruise that blossomed along the ridge of his cheekbone, ending near his eye. She had been horrified to realize that she could have done such a hurtful thing to anyone and had automatically risen to her feet, miserable with guilt.
“I. . . I. . .” She bit her lip and moved hesitantly toward him, lifting her hand toward his face. For an instant she thought she saw him wince as her fingers gingerly grazed his injured cheek.
“Oh, God, Doctor. . .” she gasped, turning her shimmering eyes to his, dark and brooding. “I. . .I am so sorry. . . . I didn’t realize what I was doing. . .”
She finished weakly, in an anguished whisper, her tear-filled eyes searching his features for some softening, some forgiveness.
She recalled how he had just stood there, unmoving, watching her for a long moment as his shadowed eyes held her like a bird caught in a hunter’s snare, leaving her unable to speak, or even turn away from the pull of his stare.
Then he had quietly nodded. His words low and without malice, broke the spell as his fingers gently encircled her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face.
