by Renee Roszel
He gently released her. “Ah, Drew, such flattery will turn my head.” There was a tinge of laughter in his deep voice as he took her arm to begin their long, cold walk.
Because they had wasted precious time, the pace Rolf set was rapid and single-minded. Drew’s leather-soled boots were more hindrance than help and after sliding and stumbling for over a kilometer, her feet seemed like clumsy blocks of ice.
Since the accident had been her fault, Drew was surprised and thankful that Rolf chose to walk in silence rather than berate her for her rashness. She wondered why.
Looking up at his rough-hewn profile, she asked, “Doctor?”
He slid his eyes to her, raising a questioning brow.
She cleared her throat and said, somewhat out of breath with the effort of walking in the frigid night, ‘I’m sorry. . .about the car. . .”
He didn’t exactly smile. But there was a change in his face, a pleasant change.
Lifting his shoulders, he commented without rancor, “It was an accident.”
Drew grimaced, not satisfied, her guilt making her go on, “I know. . .but you were right. It was foolish of me to grab your arm.”
His well-formed lips parted in a friendly smile. “I won’t argue that.”
She frowned. “Aren’t you angry? I mean, Jim would have been—” She bit her lip at the unpleasant memory of her first husband’s terrible temper.
The mention of the other man’s name brought Rolf to an abrupt halt, forcing Drew to slide to face him. His features had darkened into a deep scowl. “This Jim.” Brown eyes were not careless in their perusal of her face as he continued, “Has it ever occurred to you that he might not be the best model for you to judge all men by?”
Drew opened her lips to reply, but nothing seemed appropriate. She shrugged, lowering her eyes in thought as Rolf once again set a breathtaking pace.
Some fifteen minutes later, he spoke again. “I see the lights of Eisleben.”
“Thanks Heavens!” Drew breathed, bone-tired.
Rolf turned to her as they trudged toward the outskirts of the town, his face serious. “I know I haven’t made this easy for you.” He slowed his pace to a more comfortable stride. “Would you like me to carry you the rest of the way?”
Stubborn pride fired Drew’s flagging strength. “I’ve come this far on my own power, I can make it all the way!”
He nodded, his eyes narrowing reflectively. “I never doubted that, Drew, or you would not be here with me now.”
His words pierced her cold numbed brain. Was that a compliment? Perhaps a glimmer of respect for her as a person? She stole a look at his face but had no time to reflect further, for suddenly rounding a corner, the train loomed before them.
In the muted light of the moon, it looked like a gigantic sleeping python, long, black and sleek. All windows were dark and lifeless because, as Rolf explained, black-out curtains had been installed to keep curious eyes from peering in along the route.
Nearing the lighted platform, they were halted by an armed soldier in gray. Rolf spoke in curt German and the guard quickly passed them through. He had taker on the role of the grim-faced, powerful Dr. Rolf Erhardt she had first met, once again resuming the intimidating aura of command that sent East German soldiers scurrying to do his bidding.
“What did you tell him?” Drew asked in a breathless whisper as they mounted the steps to their assigned car. “The truth.” He steadied her on the icy steps with a hand at her back. “That we slid off the road.”
At the car’s entrance, she turned to face him. Since he had not stepped up with her, they were literally face to face. “What”—she blinked, catching her breath at their sudden closeness—“what will they do?”
A wayward smile slashed his lips. “Do? Well, now that I am here, they will prepare to get us under way.”
“What about the bags?” she gasped worriedly.
“They will try to get them before we leave. But I can’t make any promises.” Gentle hands at her waist turned her around. “This is not a good place to talk, love.” Stiffening at his use of an endearment, she stepped briskly away from him. But she immediately stopped short, surprised to see, not rows of seats, but a narrow hallway, flanked on either side by four numbered doors. With an exasperated breath, Rolf took her hand, pulling her down the hall to the last door on the left. Opening it, he gestured for her to precede him.
She hesitated. “What is this?”
“Our compartment. I usually stay in the command car when I travel by train. But this time I decided it would be best—”
She stammered, interrupting, “Our—our compartment!” Her eyes were fixed on the bunked cots inside the barren, narrow room.
He placed his hand at her back and pushed her into the room, closing the door.
Drew turned and flared resentfully, “Must you shove me?”
“Drew”—something glittered in his eyes, something vague and frightening—“a man’s harlot does not stand in the hall in shocked indignation over the prospect of sharing a room with him. Remember, you are playing a part now. Play it well.”
“But I’m not staying in this—this overgrown closet with you!” She threw her arms wide. “Why there isn’t even a chair, just those”—she dropped a reluctant nod toward the cots—“narrow beds!”
“Keep your voice down.” He moved toward the lower bunk and, tossing his parka to the upper, sat down near its foot.
“Join me. I won’t bite you.” He gestured broadly making it appear that there was an abundance of unmolested space.
Suddenly Drew was very nervous at being thrust into such close quarters with Rolf. Staying in his house was one thing, but this tiny room was another matter entirely! She let out a long sigh. Dead on her feet—her frozen feet—all she wanted in life was to curl up in a ball beneath that green wool blanket and sleep. . .preferably for days and days. But she decided, chewing her cheek, sitting next to Rolf on the narrow cot would have to do, as a distant second. . . though being this close to him on a bed would be far from restful]
She laid her coat near Rolf’s on the top bunk and sat down beside the pillow of the lower, putting as much distance between them as possible.
A movement caught her eye and she shot a sidelong glance toward her husband. He had leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Tired?”
Drew shrugged. “I suppose. . .a little.” Tugging off her boots, she tucked her feet up under her.
“I have to be gone for a while.” He paused. “Why not try to get some rest?”
She turned toward him, barely able to make out his face in the darkness.
“When do you think you’ll be coming back?” Why! did she ask that question? Surely that was what she; wanted—for him to go.
“Late.” He unfolded his tall frame from the bed and moved to face her. “Or should I say early?”
Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he went on, “I’ll check on the bags. Now promise me you will try to I sleep.” His voice was low and disconcertingly intimate in the darkness.
Nodding, she whispered, “I’ll try.”
“Good.” Sounding satisfied, he removed his warm finger from her chin, turned quietly, and left the cubicle.
Drew stared blankly after him, her thoughts in turmoil. Why did he have the uncanny ability to always put her emotionally off balance?
Just when she thought she had him pegged, he changed. The arrogant, untouchable commander became the seductive male animal, bent on having his way with her; then, too, he could be this image of a concerned big brother, solicitous of her health. Drew shook her head numbly. Where in all these dissimilar characters was the real Doctor Rolf Erhardt?
She wasn’t sure if she could trust herself to sleep, knowing he would be coming back any time. And who would he be then? She didn’t like the idea of being defenseless, asleep before that changeable man. But, surely he wouldn’t force her against her will in this thin-walled compartment. He had said himself they must play-a
ct the part of lovers. . . . Lovers!
A chill rushed through her at the thought of Rolf lounging naked beside her in the narrow cot, his eyes soft with desire, expert hands exploring the secrets of her body. His well-formed lips, sensuous and tender one moment, hard and demanding the next, leaving their smoldering trail along the rise of her breast. . . .
An odd warmth replaced the chill, spreading rapidly through her body bringing her back to reality as an embarrassed heat flushed her cheeks. What had prompted that contemplation?
She brushed irritably at a strand of hair, pushing it behind her ear. She wouldn’t allow herself to be dominated by Rolf Erhardt either physically or mentally. She needed rest and wanted to sleep. . . so she would!
Looking down at her clothes, Drew grimaced at the idea of sleeping in what could be her only remaining change of clothes. She made her decision, unbuttoning the soft beige shirt front. Rolf wouldn’t dare accost her when the chance of discovery was so great, for he must know her struggles would definitely bring out the curious. Besides, there were two beds. Rolf would probably take the upper anyway; after all, his attitude toward her lately had been more like a brother than. . . a mate. . . .
Nodding her head with finality, her mouth set in a determined line, she finished undressing. Moments later, slacks and blouse neatly folded at the foot of the bed, Drew was curled between clean, muslin sheets and a faded wool blanket, sound asleep.
The train was moving. Through the fog of sleep, Drew could feel a slight rocking motion as the wheels moved over uneven track. She drowsily lifted heavy lids. It was pitch black. She decided the train must have just pulled out, awakening her. Did it really matter? Yawning, she pulled the sheet closer about her and drifted back into a fatigue-drugged sleep.
SOMETHING soft caressed her cheek and her eyes fluttered slowly open. What had seemed like moments must have been hours, for on the wall was a narrow shaft of rosy light. It was dawn.
“Good morning, love.” Rolf’s voice was soft and very near. Drew started and tried to raise up on an elbow, but was thwarted in her effort as long lean fingers firmly pressed her shoulder down, turning her on her back.
“Did you sleep well?” He smiled easily down at her as he lounged on his side.
Drew gasped, eyes wide. “What are you doing. . . .?” It was a terrified whisper. “You can’t sleep here!”
He raised a well-shaped brow. “Sleep? I wasn’t planning on sleep, Kindchen.”
Her mouth gaped with realization. “You. . .you can’t mean. . .” Panic sent a raging blush to her cheeks.
‘You have no right!” She edged toward the confining wall. “Get out or I’ll call for help!”
“And if you do, questions will be asked. I would hate to be forced to reveal your true identity,”
“You couldn’t!” She grasped the sheet up about her chin, trying to remain logical. “You’re in this as deep as I am!”
His smile was knowing. “Drew, my work is important to the East. Granted, they would watch me more closely if they knew of my desire to defect, but my life would change little. On the other hand, yours would be altered drastically.”
She chewed hard on her lower lip, deciding to try another tack. “I’m getting up!”
Rolf increased the pressure on her shoulder. “No, little one.” Slipping a finger beneath the strap of her bra, he went on, “Neither of us is leaving this bed. . .not yet.”
His face was serious now, and his eyes, dark and fertile held hers in their hypnotic grasp. “The time has come for us, Drew.” Her eyes widened at his pause. “I am going to make love to you.”
She swallowed. “No. . .” It was soundless in the sudden dryness of her throat.
Brown eyes flickered with a new heat as a hand slid to her back. One jarring instant later, the undergarment went slack.
“Do you know how lovely you are?” His voice had deepened with the smoldering color of his eyes.
She couldn’t move. Her eyes, huge and glowing, read the truth of his intent in every line of his handsome face. She cast her glance away where it fell over wide bronze shoulders and slid on down to the dark mat of hair that covered his chest, narrowing over a flat belly. . . .
She caught her breath at the awesome, naked splendor of the man beside her.
He slipped the straps of her bra and removed it quickly as he said, “You are a beautiful woman.” Her eyes flew back up to his face. “And you are my wife—” His tone held a finality that shook her to the core.
“But this wasn’t part of the bargain.” An ache in her throat made it a harsh whisper as the rational part of her mind rebelled at what was happening. But her body, with maddening disobedience, hesitated to act as his hand slid silkily up, cupping a round breast.
Drew inhaled sharply at the warmth of his bold touch.
“Don’t speak to me of bargains!” He lowered his face to her invitingly parted lips in a long, leisurely feast.
His mouth, soft, sure, held the richness of morning coffee, the revitalizing taste of a new, fresh day. . .a birthing.
The contours of his lips, the perfect teeth, masterful tongue, all made his kiss as individual as any fingerprint. It was his and his alone to give. . . . Not Jim’s kiss, demanding, selfish, or the tentative kisses of other men of her acquaintance—or even the rash, lustful kind of kiss she had sometimes endured at the hands of less than gentlemanly suitors—
No, Rolf Erhardt’s kiss was the scorching signature of a man born to passion, a man who knew well the ways of women and how best to please. His lips, wide and bold, moved lingeringly, possessing by soft seduction. He inspired warm response, induced heightened returns, aroused and thrilled. . . . And, to say the least, Drew was not unmoved.
With deliberate languor, Rolf implanted his searing brand along her cheek, and then up, softly kissing one tentatively closed lid and then the other.
“Our bargain”—his whispered baritone was rich with emotion—“did not take into account the desirable woman you proved to be.”
A gentle hand, moving softly over the taut crest of her breast sent a delicious quiver through her as her lips throbbed with the memory of his touch. Flaming brightly in her mind was her earlier vision of Rolf’s long, lean nakedness next to her in this bed. And now he was really here, his virile masculinity weaving its sensuous spell about her like the tantalizing warmth of a raging fire drawing the foolish moth, once singed, heedless of her own impending destruction, back into the flames.
She could feel the doom of surrender settle about her as the wanting within her body rose to fever pitch. He was a devastating adversary, one she could not win against. He had trapped her within a marriage assuring his freedom, and she had no card to play against him. And now he was equally as devastating in his sexual power over her. She did not have the strength of will to defend herself against his passionate mastery of her body. She was falling, losing everything. . . .
And yet in the face of this mortal disaster, her womanly spirit soared wildly overhead, uncaring, thrilling to his burning touch.
Thrilling, too, in the glorious splendor that brought men and women together in this most primitive of acts. . . the same act that had, in Drew’s past, been distressful. Yet now within Rolf’s arms, all was right. She felt surrounded by an aura of something mystical, spiritual, almost divine. . .the essence of being man and woman.
His lips were moving down now, nipping at the soft flesh of her throat. And his hands were caressing, sure in their mission as the last barrier of clothing was swiftly disposed of. They were flesh to flesh as Rolf slid to blanket her with his body.
Their eyes met. His were strangely glazed, soft and vulnerable, and his face had lost some of its angular sharpness in the muted light of morning.
She could feel the sledgehammer pounding of his heart, increasing in tempo against the hummingbird flutter of her own. His soft breath on her cheek was reminiscent of the first warmth of a spring breeze, bringing life to the dormant land after a long, barren winter.
She wanted him! More than life, more than freedom. . . she wanted him to make love to her. With a low moan, Drew encircled his broad back with her arms, reveling in the raw strength in the play of his taut muscles. “Rolf. . .” The word was a desperate sigh.
A tender smile parted his lips at the sound of his name, his eyes glowed with an erotic promise. . . .
Their joining was like the first taste of rain after an earth-parching drought. It began slowly, with the leisurely taste of renewal, then built from that to a wild, unrestrained storm, filled at its peak with the thunder and lightning of fulfillment as Drew, her fingers digging into Rolf’s all-embracing shoulders, cried out in her ecstasy, arching up. . .up to complete the merging, the melting until for the raging eternity of an instant they were one.
In the stillness that followed, Rolf lowered his lips once again to hers, kissing her gently. “I could not let you leave. . . without this.” He smoothed a damp strand of hair from her face and kissed the flushed cheek where it had been. “This was our destiny, mein stürmisches Fräulein.” The provocative statement made her shiver as her numbed mind stumbled back into a semblance of control.
What had he said? He couldn’t let her leave without. . .this? Leave! A knife-sharp pain shot through her breast with the truth of it. Rolf Erhardt couldn’t let her go without taking his pleasure with her—He couldn’t let any woman get out of his grasp without. . . She closed her eyes to the hurt of reality.
That is all it was to him, an opportunity too good to pass up! And she had actually wanted him. Her arms slid listlessly from about his broad back.
How could she have allowed him to so easily take her by the hand and lead her away from her own convictions not to become involved? Now she was what she had most feared—a trophy for his wall, a game, easily won, important only as a tantalizing bit of locker-room trivia to be chuckled about. . .and then forgotten.
Desperately ashamed of her weakness, she choked out bitterly, “You. . .won, Doctor. I hope it makes you happy.”
