by Janet Dailey
“Jarod, please!” Of their own volition, her hands swept around his neck as he ravished the throbbing cord below her ear. “Please pretend that you love me, if only for tonight,” she begged shamelessly, her lips moving in soft feather kisses over the rippling muscles of his chest. “Pretend that our vows mean something to you, too.
With incredible ease, he swung her into his arms and carried her the few paces to the bed, snuffing out the light once he had lain her on the sheets. As the weight of his body settled onto the mattress beside her, love and shame tore at her breast with equal violence.
His mouth brushed the side of her face. “I don't have to pretend. There was one vow that I will keep,” Jarod declared huskily. “With my body I thee worship."
With a whimpering moan of surrender, Amanda turned her lips to him and yielded to the spreading fire of his touch.
Chapter Ten
THE HAPPY TRILL of a bird singing its song to the rising sun drifted into the silent room. Amanda shifted slightly in protest to its wake-up call. Instantly the arm around her tightened to prevent further movement and she became conscious of the even rise and fall of the muscular chest beneath her head. A deliciously warm sensation filled her as she watched her hand slide intimately over the flat stomach to the dark hairs on the chest that was her pillow.
“Jarod,” she whispered lovingly to no one in particular, cherishing the sound of it as its use was exclusively hers now. “Jarod, Jarod."
She could have repeated it a thousand times, but she didn't for fear she might wake him. The languorous warmth of the strong arms that held her was too tenderly blissful to be ended by rousing him from his sleep. Carefully Amanda tilted her head back so she could look at his face, which appeared not nearly so harsh in repose. The desire to touch it, to let her fingertips explore the carved plains and hollows, became almost too much and she lowered her gaze, closing her eyes to snuggle deeper into the crook of his arm.
Then the hand that had been resting on her shoulder slipped to her face. The lean fingers were so close to her mouth that she couldn't resist the slight movement required to brush her lips against them. But at the first gentle kiss, the fingers closed around her chin and Amanda was pulled upward in one swift movement until her head was resting on the pillow inches from Jarod's face. The bright light in his black eyes told her that he had been aware of every moment.
“Good morning.” There was a faint shyness in her voice.
He smiled and leaned over to press a lingering sweet kiss on her lips, feeling them part immediately on contact with his before he moved back to study her thoroughly.
“That is the way to say good morning,” Jarod informed her, a smile tugging again at the corners of his mouth, “Or at least the prelude."
“I didn't mean to wake you,” Amanda murmured.
“Didn't you? Then why did you keep repeating my name?” His hands were beginning their wayward caress of last night, moving with tantalizing deliberateness over her spine and hips.
“I like it,” Amanda responded softly, feeling the flames of desire rekindling.
“And last night?” He arched her closer so her could nibble on her white shoulder. “Was it satisfying for you?"
“Yes.” She breathed in deeply. “Was it ... for you?"
“No.” At the hurt look that sprang immediately into her eyes, Jarod chuckled and used the weight of his body to push her back against the mattress. “Last night I was satisfied, but not this morning.”
“I probably should be getting your breakfast,” she said in a breathless little voice.
“Why?” His indifferent question was muffled by the hollow of her throat.
Her fingers moved lightly over the bare skin of his shoulders. “I suppose because that's something wives do for their husbands."
“Mmm, until the drudgery and monotony become too much and they end up sending the man off with a cup of coffee and a peck on the cheek,” Jarod said cynically.
“Not all wives,” Amanda protested.
“I forgot.” His head was raised, allowing him to look darkly into her face, mockery in his black eyes. “You're still wrapped up in those romantic notions about husbands and wives and the happily ever afters."
“Don't make fun of me, Jarod,” she insisted, her hands reaching out to hold his face. “I do love you. I can't help it if I never want to leave you, no matter how shameless I sound."
“You can keep your dreams, Amanda. I won't take them away from you,” he murmured grimly. “Hold on to them for as long as you can."
“What made you so bitter?” Her heart was aching with the depth of her love and the certainty with which Jarod had insisted it would someday end.
“I'm not bitter. I'm realistic. And right now, I'm very glad that I can assert my authority as your husband and tell you to stop talking!” There was a hint of a smile before his mouth closed over hers.
* * * *
“DID JAR—MR. COLBY say what time he would be home tonight when he called, Hannah?” Amanda inquired as the housekeeper walked into the dining room where Amanda was polishing the silver, humming a happy tune to herself.
“No, he only asked where you were and what time I was expecting you home,” the older woman replied, taking the pieces Amanda had finished and placing them in the buffet. “And I explained that you'd gone with your mother to the hospital and that your father was being released today. You were going to help her get him settled at their home, but you would be here by four o'clock."
“And he didn't give any other reason for calling?"
“No, he didn't, Mrs. Colby."
A thrill still shivered over Amanda every time the housekeeper addressed her as Jarod's wife. Amanda silently wondered if she would ever tire of it, then decided she was acting like a silly bride. They had only been married three weeks. Such a short time when she thought about it, yet it seemed as if she had always belonged to him.
The secret fear that someday all this happiness must come to an end she kept firmly pushed to the back of her mind. Dwelling on it would only make each hour more miserable than the last. She was convinced that heaven and hell were a state of mind and she was determined that the days, weeks, or months she spent with Jarod would be heaven. The hell would be living without him.
Jarod chided her occasionally, telling her she was “playing house,” but she had discovered that all she had to do was slip into his arms and turn her face up for his kiss and he “played house” with her. And the wild ecstasy of their lovemaking never diminished for her, nor seemingly for Jarod, either.
Since their marriage, there had been a few business dinner parties in which the wives were in attendance. She and Jarod would become separated for one reason or another and their eyes would meet across a room. Amanda swore her heart would never stop turning over each time she saw that special light that said he wanted to be alone with her.
A glance at her watch told her it was nearly four and she handed the last of the silver to the housekeeper. She began tidying together the rags and the polish and the papers.
“I'll take care of that,” Hannah announced.
The housekeeper didn't object to Amanda's doing some of the extra tasks around the rambling house, but she drew the line at the simple chores of cleaning up, making beds, and doing dishes. Those came strictly under Hannah's heading. That had been a difficult adjustment for Amanda, accustomed as she was to doing all those things her entire life, but Jarod had stated that she wasn't there to replace his housekeeper. The truth was there was plenty of work to keep both women busy and a surprisingly friendly relationship had developed between them.
The hands of the clock moved past four and the telephone remained silent. Amanda hadn't realized how much she had been expecting it to ring. Jarod had never called her during the day before, one of the many little things that indicated that he didn't regard her as his wife. Only to a certain point was she able to fool herself that their relationship was idyllic. How could it be when all the love was one-sided?
With a heavy sigh, Amanda gave up her vigil near the telephone and started toward their bedroom, guided by the half-formed decision to shower and change before Jarod came home. The sound of the front door opening coupled with his voice turned her quickly to the foyer, a smile of happiness unconsciously lighting her face.
“You're early!” Amanda cried in delight the moment her gaze caught sight of the tall, dark figure turning to meet her. An older, balding man was standing beside Jarod with a briefcase in his hand.
Jarod's hand reached out to draw Amanda forward with that impersonal touch she had come to loathe. It always seemed to remind her that she was only one of many women he had known and unlikely to be the last.
“Amanda, I'd like you to meet my attorney, Frank Blaisdale,” he introduced.
“Mrs. Colby, this is a rare pleasure. I've heard many compliments spoken about you, but none of them did you justice.” A smile concealed the shrewdness in his pale blue eyes and Amanda guessed that many a client and opponent had been lulled by the older man's quiet charm.
“I think I'm going to pretend that you're not exaggerating, Mr. Blaisdale, and simply say thank you,” she answered with a smile in return. Her gaze slid to Jarod. “Would you like coffee or drinks in the study while the two of you are working?"
“I won't be staying long, Mrs. Colby,” the attorney inserted.
“Frank is here to witness your signature on some papers we need to sign,” Jarod added in explanation, beginning the movement that would take the three of them to his study.
“My signature?” Amanda questioned with a puzzled frown.
“Yes. Actually we should have had the agreement drawn up before we were married, but Frank was out of town on other matters and wasn't able to get it completed until now,” Jarod said, opening the door the walnut-paneled room and ushering her inside.
“Agreement?” She looked from Jarod to the bland face of the attorney.
“You're beginning to sound like an echo, Amanda.” There was a hint of censure in Jarod's teasing tone.
“I'm sorry, but I don't understand,” she murmured.
“It's really very simple, Mrs. Colby.” The attorney placed his briefcase on the desk, snapped it open and withdrew three sets of documents, handing one to her and one to Jarod, retaining the third for himself. “This is what could commonly be called a marriage contract. It outlines your husband's agreement to be responsible for the medical costs of your father's illness, the continuation of his salary as an absentee plant manager, and the tuition, et cetera, for your brothers’ college education. There are also provisions here for a lump sum cash settlement in the event of a divorce. Read it over and see if you have any questions.
The paper in Amanda's hand seemed to catch fire. Cold flames shot through the fingers that held it, the scorching icy tongues forcing her to push the heartless document on the desk top before she was completely immobilized by its touch. Her brown eyes were wide with torment as she turned them to Jarod, calmly leafing through the pages of the agreement in his hands. As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, surrounded by that remote air she always associated with him when he was concentrating on an important business transaction.
“Do you have any questions?” A cold piercing quality was in his eyes as he spoke.
“Is this what you want?” she demanded in a tortured voice.
“I don't see anything that's been omitted.” His gaze shifted smoothly back to the document, ignoring the plea in her eyes not to go through with this. “We discussed all the items in here except the amount of the settlement. Is a hundred thousand satisfactory, or do you want more?"
The hard indifference of his voice made Amanda cringe. In desperation, she turned to the balding man. “Where do I sign?” she asked.
“As an attorney, I can't help but advise that you read this over carefully, Mrs. Colby,” he demurred.
“Please—” she choked back the pain that rose in her throat “—I'm sure it's quite satisfactory. Show me where to sign."
The attorney handed her a pen and indicated the places on the document requiring her signature. Each stroke of the pen cut a new slash in her heart, increasing her pain to an almost intolerable level. When her name was affixed to the last page, she pushed the pen away from her, mumbled an excuse, and fled the room.
Her wavering legs carried her swiftly to the bedroom, where she was able to lean weakly against a bureau while heaving sobs tore at her chest. Then the door that she had securely closed behind her was opened. Amanda didn't need to turn around to know Jarod had followed her.
Her back stiffened and she withdrew herself from the support of the bureau. Determinedly she lifted her chin, pride insisting she couldn't allow him to know the agony the callous agreement had brought. Yet she knew the torment was in her eyes.
“I ... I—” she breathed in deeply “—I think I'll take a shower before dinner,” she finished, not turning to face him as she took a step toward the adjoining bathroom.
“Amanda!” The leashed anger in his voice erased all desire to pretend he hadn't hurt her.
Her chin dipped in defeat, but she didn't turn around. “Jarod, how could you do this?"
“It was as much for your protection as it was for mine,” he said grimly. Lithe, silent strides had brought him across the room to stand behind her.
“That horrible agreement—it makes what I feel for you cheap and degrading. I love you so much and those papers make it sound like an unfeeling merger.” Amanda shuddered bitterly.
“You know it won't last,” Jarod insisted with a shrug.
“What? My love or our marriage?” she demanded, spinning around to blink the tears from her eyes as she gazed at the tightly clenched jaw. “I know I'll go on loving you after you stop wanting me. From the start I've known that our marriage wouldn't last. It's enough to receive what little affection you're capable of giving me. But this agreement takes even that away from me!"
His hands took hold of her shoulders, the fingers digging into her flesh for a moment before she relaxed. “You're a beautiful woman, but in many ways you're such a child,” Jarod sighed angrily, drawing her against his chest and holding her there while he stroked her red locks as one would comfort a child.
Her inner coldness made Amanda huddle closer to the warmth his body generated, the shelter of his strong arms offering her the only apparent security that was left.
“I can't change the way I feel, darling,” she murmured firmly as he rested his cheek against the side of her head, “any more than I can change the way you feel. I've accepted that. I only wish that awful contract didn't exist."
“I never realized how sensitive—how easily hurt you are,” Jarod mused, tightening the iron band of his arms. “Forget about the contract, Amanda. It's just another piece of paper."
* * * *
BUT THE CONTRACT wasn't any easier to forget than their marriage license and vows. During the next three months Amanda understood the subtle strain it placed on their relationship. Behind every happy smile there was a shadow, silently reminding her life with him was on a day-to-day basis, never certain when she woke in the morning whether this would be the day Jarod decided he didn't want her any longer. There were times when she wondered where her pride and self-respect had gone, that she should so greedily savor every precious moment she spent with him.
In the mornings it was difficult to keep from reaching out to him to reassure herself that he was lying in the bed beside her and thus reaffirm that he still welcomed her touch. At least that had been so every morning until recently. Now she lay quietly in the bed, watching him dress, and waiting for the moment when he would walk over to kiss her goodbye.
“You're becoming quite a lazybones.” Jarod smiled into the mirror as he adjusted his tie, his dark gaze alighting on the contrast of her copper hair against the white pillow.
“There's no reason to get up yet.” Amanda smiled faintly back, her eyes filling with love at the sight of the strong, bronze features with
their ingrained arrogance and compelling attraction.
“No, I suppose not."
“There's a chance of showers today. Don't forget to take your raincoat."
He walked to the bed, a mocking glitter in his eyes. “You still enjoy playing the loving little wife, don't you?"
Amanda swallowed hard. “Don't make fun of me, Jarod."
“You used to laugh when I said that,” he reminded her gently, bending down to kiss her mouth possessively. As his raven black head moved away, his gaze throughly swept her face. “You look peaked this morning."
“No makeup. What time will you be home tonight?"
“I have to drive to Atlanta, so it will probably be around seven,” he said, brushing the tip of her nose with his finger before he turned to walk away.
“Be careful!” she called after him, and received a last look over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Amanda lay in bed visualizing the route that would take Jarod to his study where he would collect his briefcase and papers, then out to the living room where he would tell Hannah what time he would be home for dinner that evening, then finally out to his car. Only if the wind was in the right direction would she hear the purr of the engine signaling his departure.
This morning she heard nothing. Very slowly she swept back the covers and gently levered herself upright, swinging her feet to the floor. Her legs were shaking badly, but she made it to the bathroom before the waves of nausea couldn't be held back any longer and she began retching.
When the last wave had passed, she clung weakly to the sink, fighting the weakness that threatened to buckle her knees. A succession of deep breaths helped her regain part of her strength and she turned to reenter the bedroom, only to find Jarod blocking the door, his eyes furiously dark and narrowed.
