by Janet Dailey
"Do you think no one saw you running from the harbor last night?" he sighed sadly.
Crimson heat spread over her cheeks. "Did someone see me?" Her chin trembled.
Nate Gaynes nodded reluctantly. "A few 'well-meaning' friends stopped over this morning to tell me about it, just in case I didn't know," he replied dryly.
"Oh, no!" Gina moaned. "But nothing happened," she argued weakly.
"There are many who wouldn't believe that. Mostly because they wouldn't want to," he explained. "Their waggin' tongues wouldn't give you any peace, girl."
She was ruined. No decent boy would look at her now. The tale would be spread all over the community. Everyone would know, if they didn't already. Her every action would be subject to their censure after this. The only way she could eradicate the strain on her reputation would be to marry her supposed partner in sin.
It wasn't fair, she thought bitterly. But people in small communities were notorious for minding everybody's business but their own. It was bad enough for herself, but her grandfather would be included in the backlash.
Surely there had to be a way out of the situation that didn't involve marrying Rhyder. She hated him. After the way he had humiliated her, she couldn't marry him. What other choice was there?
"Why couldn't we move away?" she asked suddenly.
"Move away!" Her grandfather was plainly taken aback by the suggestion, a frown darkening his forehead.
"No," Gina sighed, "I guess we couldn't".
It wouldn't be fair, either, to ask her grandfather to give up his home, the one he had shared with his beloved wife and his children; and the lobster traps he had hauled all his life; and his friends. She stared at the ceiling.
"I won't marry him," she repeated with conviction.
"It's all settled," he stated crisply. "If everyone is going to wait to see if you're up a stump, then I want you married while they're doing it."
"I am not pregnant," Gina protested. "I couldn't be!"
An arched eyebrow asked her who would believe that. She knew the answer was a rare few. She sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out her frustration. She felt trapped.
IN THE END, Gina did as her grandfather asked. She didn't see Rhyder until the marriage ceremony. Not that she had cared, she tried to tell herself. She kept insisting silently that she didn't want to see him. She guessed her grandfather had shrewdly kept Rhyder away in case she should say something that would be contrary to his wishes.
Rhyder's expression had been bland as he stood beside her in front of the minister. He had spoken the vows clearly and without emotion. Nothing in his eyes had revealed his inner opinion of the marriage; he had rarely glanced at her. When they had been pronounced man and wife, he had brushed her lips coolly.
During the congratulations from the handful of people invited to attend, he had dutifully remained at her side. But Gina had noticed with growing irritation the way he avoided touching her. His aloofness was cutting. Her grandfather had assured her that Rhyder was very willing to marry her. Gina thought he had a very strange way of showing it.
A token amount of rice had marked their departure from the church. Rhyder had brushed the few grains from the shoulder of his jacket before sliding behind the wheel of the car. Gina had plucked one from her hair and was rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.
They had driven for nearly twenty minutes and not once had he spoken to her. The silence was stretching like a rubber band, each minute increasing its tautness.
Impatiently Gina tossed the grain of rice to the floor. "This is impossible!" she snapped.
His gaze slid to her, brief and sweeping, yet his aura remained decidedly remote." What is?"
Her mouth was compressed tightly, her nerves gratingly on edge. "All of this," she declared with encompassing bitterness. "Why are we going to a hotel anyway?"
"It's our wedding night. Have you forgotten?" Behind the dryness, there was a hint of a jeer.
"How could I?" she breathed tightly. "We could just as easily have gone to your boat instead of this."
"Your grandfather wanted you to have a proper honeymoon." A corner of his mouth lifted cynically.
"I don't particularly care," Gina retorted.
"Neither do I."
"Then why are you going through with it?" she demanded throwing him a cold look.
His profile was chiseled against a golden sunset, its lines hard and unyielding. This indomitable person was her husband. The thought chilled her.
"Your grandfather has a way of getting what he wants." There was a slight tightening of the muscles in his jaw, although his voice was level and composed.
"That almost sounds as if you're frightened of him," Gina taunted.
Cool blue eyes held her gaze for an instant before Rhyder returned his attention to the highway. A dark, forbidding light had been burning in their depths.
"He's a shrewd man," was his noncommittal answer.
Gina tipped her head to one side, her green eyes narrowing at the insult she sensed behind his remark. "Why did you say that?" She studied him warily.
The creases at the corners of his mouth deepened in a humorless expression. "He arranged the marriage, didn't he?"
"Yes." Gina's first thought was of her stubborn resistance to the idea. "He wanted to save my reputation. It meant a great deal more to him than it did to me. That's the only reason why I married you," she told him flatly. "To save my reputation in the eyes of my grandfather's friends."
"I married you for the same reason," Rhyder inserted sardonically. "To save my reputation."
"That's a joke," she laughed shortly and with bitterness. "A man can do almost anything and not get into trouble. He can sow all the wild oats he wants and only a few will click their tongues. But a girl gets branded as a tramp. It isn't fair!"
"Nothing in life is fair," he said dryly. "A fact you'll discover as you grow up."
"Will you stop referring to me as if I were an infant!" Gina snapped. "I happen to be your wife."
"I'm not likely to forget it." Harsh and cold, his gaze pinned her, his lip curling, as he added, "Mrs. Owens."
Suddenly Gina was afraid. She didn't really know anything about this man sitting beside her. She didn't know if he had a family, what he did for a living, nothing. She sat back in her seat, trembling, and stared straight ahead.
"Y-your parents," she faltered, "do they know about me?"
"Not yet," he answered grimly.
A hotel sign blinked its neon lights ahead of them. Rhyder slowed the car to make the turn into the driveway. The night air was warm on her as he opened her car door, but Gina felt unaccountably cold.
The hand directing her into the lobby was not at all gentle. Her skin burned under the tight grip that wouldn't allow her to pull free.
Glancing around the richly furnished reception area, she tried to ignore the speculating look of the desk clerk. Vaguely she heard Rhyder mention something about reservations. Nausea gripped her stomach as her downcast gaze saw him write Mr. and Mrs. Rhyder Owens on the registration slip.
"Would you like the honeymoon suite, sir?" the clerk inquired somewhat suggestively, and Gina flushed in miserable embarrassment.
Rhyder flicked a hard, mocking glance in her direction and answered, "By all means," with something cruel in his tone.
Her ears were burning as the bellboy escorted them to their suite, carrying their few pieces of luggage. Gina discovered the conjecture and gossip of strangers was more unendurable than if it had come from people she had known all her life. She felt sickened by the ribald wink the bellboy had given Rhyder when he accepted his tip and left them in the room.
The scarlet-covered bed dominated the room. Gina walked stiffly to the window, wanting to ignore it. Her forehead felt clammy and she knew she had grown pale. Rhyder's gaze was on her. She could feel it prickling her spine.
"Have you eaten anything today?" He sounded like a parent and Gina gritted her teeth.
"Ver
y little. Bridal nerves, I suppose," she tacked on bitterly.
"Would you like to go to the restaurant or shall I order something from room service?" Rhyder inquired politely and indifferently.
Her first instinct was to choose the restaurant, but the prospect of being the recipient of knowing looks from the hotel staff quickly made her reject it.
"Room service please," she answered stiffly. "And order lots of champagne. I feel like getting drunk."
"Don't try to be sophisticated, Gina," Rhyder snapped. "You can't carry it off."
Tension gnawed at her stomach. She pivoted to meet the hard glint of his eyes, cold blue steel that bored right through her. The proud lift of her dark head elevated her chin to a defiant angle.
"Are you ashamed of me?" Despite her bold challenge, she felt intimidated by the raw masculinity emanating from the dark-suited man standing only a few feet away. Her heart began beating in sharp, uneven thuds at the harsh twist of his mouth.
"What makes you ask that?" The bland question was not what she had been prepared for. Anger she would have expected, or snide sarcasm.
"Because you haven't told your parents about our marriage." Gina held her breath, frightened by the way she was trying to provoke his anger.
His eyes narrowed swiftly. "I will inform them in my own time. We're married—which is, after all, what you wanted."
"It isn't what I wanted!" she choked.
"You're quite right," Rhyder agreed with an acid touch of irony. "You only wanted to conduct a sexual experiment. It's a pity you didn't think about that when you ran from the boat, or you wouldn't be paying the consequences now and neither of us would be in this mess."
Tears stung her eyelids. She turned back to the window so he wouldn't see. She didn't need his harsh reminder that her foolishness was to blame for the present situation. The scarlet carpet partially muffled his footsteps, but she was aware of him walking toward her and stiffened.
"Here's the room service menu." He thrust a printed paper toward her. "You can choose what you like," he said, curt and indifferent.
"It doesn't matter." Gina shifted her position to keep her back to him. "Order anything—I don't care."
"Very well." His patience was being stretched. She could hear it in his clipped tone. Rhyder turned away, muscles rippling tautly beneath the neatly tailored suit. "I'll order for you. You can freshen up while I phone."
Incensed by his patronizing inflection, Gina spun around. Emerald fire blazed in her eyes, made even brighter by a shimmer of tears.
"Why don't you just tell me to go wash my hands like a good little girl?" she stormed.
"That's enough, Gina!" His ominous warning lashed out like the flicking sting of a whip.
"What's the matter?" she taunted, without the slightest regard to his admonition. "Are you afraid I'm becoming hysterical?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," Rhyder said with quiet grimness, his temper severely checked. "You've used nearly every trick but that one."
"Me? That's a laugh!" Gina cried contemptuously.
He exhaled a hissing breath and pivoted from her, violence charging the air around him.
"I am not going to argue with you, Gina," he declared roughly.
"Well, isn't that just fine?" Sarcasm spilled from her lips. "I have a right to be angry. After all, you got us into this mess."
"Your Lady Godiva scene through the streets of town had nothing to do with it, I suppose." His nostrils flared as he cast her a murderous look over his shoulder.
"You were the one who so chivalrously insisted on marrying me," she shot back at him, only to see something flash across his sun-browned features. That glimpse made her stiffen warily. Very quietly, almost in challenge, she said, "My grandfather said you wanted to marry me."
Arrogance flashed across the angular planes of his face. "Did he?" countered Rhyder in dry mockery.
Gina swallowed, pride keeping her head erect. "Did you want to?" she demanded in a low voice, afraid to hear his answer.
"No." There wasn't a trace of emotion in his voice." But that's irrelevant now, since I've made you my wife." He released her from his flat gaze and walked to the telephone. "I'll order your dinner."
A shiver of apprehension raced icily over her flesh. Gina crossed her arms, rubbing her skin to rid it of the foreboding chill, but she only seemed to push it deeper inside. Her knees trembled. She felt weak and frighteningly vulnerable.
Numbly she moved to the bathroom, wishing she had gone there when Rhyder had first suggested it instead of reacting like the child that she kept insisting she wasn't. Gina had learned something that she didn't think she wanted to know. How could the marriage work if they had both been forced into it?
When she returned to the bedroom the question dogged her, nipping and snapping until her nerves were raw. The frayed ends became sensitive to Rhyder's silence. She jumped visibly when a knock at the door announced the arrival of room service and her dinner. Rhyder hadn't ordered anything for himself and Gina had to suffer through swallowing the tasteless food alone.
His jacket and tie had been removed, the cuffs of his white shirt turned back, and the top three buttons unfastened. A brandy he had poured from the portable bar was in his hands as he reclined almost indolently in an armchair. The expression on his hard, tanned features was a study of remoteness.
Gina stared at the food remaining on her plate. With a jerky movement she let the silverware clatter to the tray and pushed herself away from it, rising in agitation, her fingers twisting into knots. She was conscious of drawing his attention.
"Finished?" Rhyder inquired evenly.
"Yes." Gina flashed him a challenging look. His mouth thinned into a grim line. "I wasn't going to tell you to clean your plate," he snapped, and downed the swallow of brandy in his glass.
"That's good," she retaliated sharply, "because I wouldn't have done it."
"I was hoping food would improve your disposition." He rose impatiently and walked to the small bar to refill his glass. "But obviously it hasn't."
"So what are you going to do? Drown your sorrow in drink?" Gina taunted.
Bleak blue eyes held the stormy agitation of her ocean green ones, then cut them free as he took a healthy swig from the glass, not savoring the brandy in sips as it was meant to be drunk. The glass was refilled before he moved away from the bar.
"Maybe I've decided that you were right earlier," Rhyder commented with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow. "This might be the night for getting drunk."
Her pulse throbbed unevenly as he lazily approached her. Minus the jacket and tie of civilized dress, and with the opened front of his white shirt revealing the leanly muscled chest, he appeared more like the man her heart remembered, virile and strong with an impression of the sea about him and a rolling deck beneath his feet. Pain splintered through her nerves.
"I'll join you," she declared in a constricted voice.
She started to walk past him to the bar, but his hand shot out to halt her, his fingers closing around the soft flesh of her upper arm. Sore nerves screamed at his firm grip. A thread snapped inside.
"Don't touch me!" she hissed venomously.
"Don't touch you?" repeated Rhyder with sarcastic scorn, tightening his hold. "That's how this whole situation came about, because you begged me to touch you and I refused."
Scorching waves of shame seared through her veins, bringing high color to her face and neck. Futilely she struggled to twist free of his grip, but his fingers dug bruisingly to the bone. She clawed at his hand, trying to make him ease the agonizing pressure.
"Let me go!" It was a desperate cry for mercy because she lacked the strength to make him obey.
Low, harsh laughter came from his throat. "That's not what you wanted me to do before," he mocked her.
Gina made a backhanded swing at his chin, missed, and knocked the brandy glass from his other hand. It fell harmlessly to the thickly carpeted floor, liquid splashing out in a wet stain.
His free hand i
mprisoned her other arm to yank her against him. The hint of cruelty in his eyes frightened her and she struggled wildly.
"Let me go! I can't stand you!" she declared, breathing heavily with her efforts.
An iron band crushed her to his chest while hard fingers roughly seized her chin and lifted it upward. "But we're married now, my love," he jeered. "It's all perfectly legal. In fact, it's my conjugal right."
His savage gaze glittered briefly in satisfaction at her fear-rounded eyes before he violently assaulted her quivering lips. He stole the breath from her lungs and drained the strength from her limbs, leaving her limp in his arms. His thirst for revenge wasn't satisfied by simple surrender as he ravaged the sweetness of her mouth, intoxicating brandy on his breath.
Her trembling response to his marauding kiss made little impression on Rhyder. Not until her fingers were curling weakly into his shirt did he ease the pressure of his mouth to masterful possession. His male attraction was something she couldn't fight, nor the wild rapture his lovemaking aroused.
Desire flamed as he plundered the softness of her throat. Her hands inexpertly unfastened the buttons of his shirt so her fingers could glide freely over his hard flesh, smooth as leather.
A gasp of heady pleasure caught in her throat at the touch of his hand sliding open the zipper of her dress. As it fell around her feet, Rhyder lifted her out of it and into his arms. Luminous green eyes blithely met the darkly glowing fires of blue in his gaze.
Without a word, he carried her to the bed and laid her on the scarlet coverlet. A knee rested on the edge of the bed as he towered above her, something primitive and conquering in his stance.
A pagan shiver fluttered Gina's lashes. In the next second, his shirt was discarded and the muscled brown of his naked torso was bending toward her.
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Chapter Five
THE PARTIALLY MUFFLED SOUND of voices wakened Gina the next morning. The pillow was damp beneath her cheek and she remembered sobbing into it last night.
Rhyder had attempted to comfort her, but it had soon become evident that he intended to ease her pain with the same tactics that had caused it in the first place. Gina had cringed from him, inciting his anger, but he had left her alone with her tears.
