by Janet Dailey
"Alisa—" Paul said soothingly.
"Look at how he dances with her!" She attempted to lower her voice, although she didn't hide the venom. "They're almost making love right there on the floor!"
"Hardly that," Paul protested, at his wits' end as to how to cope with her.
"I'm not staying here another minute." She snubbed her cigarette out haphazardly in a nearby ashtray. "Paul, will you take me home?"
"You can't leave. It would look terrible if you left without Zachary."
"Would it? How inconvenient for him," Alisa sneered, swallowing the last of the liquid from her glass, handing it to a nearby waiter.
"Alisa, be reasonable."
"I am being reasonable. Now either you take me home or I'll walk."
"I'll take you," Paul sighed reluctantly.
He went to get the car while Alisa waited for one of the servants to bring her shawl. She paced restlessly in the hall, half afraid that Zachary would appear and stop her and half hoping that he would try. But only Mrs. Gautier appeared, concerned that Alisa was leaving so early.
"I have such a wretched headache," Alisa lied, "that, as much as I've enjoyed your party, just won't go away."
Mrs. Gautier accepted the explanation, agreeing to pass on Alisa's gratitude for the invitation to her husband. Alisa was relieved to see the servant arrive with her shawl. She said her good-byes quickly, repeating her gratitude, then hurried out the door to Paul's car.
"Are you sure you don't want to change your mind, Alisa?" Paul asked as he shifted the gears out of neutral. "I'm sure it isn't all as bad as it seems. After all, Zachary has to be polite to Renée."
"I didn't see you dancing with her," Alisa replied, fighting the slight wave of lightheadedness that had assaulted her upon entering the outdoors. Paul smiled a little sheepishly. "I don't want to talk about it."
She emphasized her request by turning to stare out the window at the star-filled sky. Paul accepted her edict with silence, glancing at her still figure silhouetted by the pale moonlight. She was so confused, her thoughts filled chaotically with anger, self-pity, indignation and resignation. Her emotions were so churned up inside her that she didn't know exactly what she was feeling except there was a pain lodged in her throat that made speaking almost impossible. When the wheels of the car rolled to a halt on the crunching gravel driveway of her home, Alisa stared at it absently. It seemed so long ago that Zachary had brought her and Christine here. The future had looked so entirely different then. She had thought she could cope with anything, but she couldn't begin to cope with Zachary. He had blocked her at every turn.
Paul got out of the car and walked around to open her door. "Do you want me to walk you to the door?" he asked.
"No," she answered shortly, fighting the constriction in her throat.
Taking the hand he offered, she stepped on to the sidewalk. He held her hand to keep her beside him, gazing helplessly into her face. She would have liked to reassure him that everything was going to be all right, but she didn't believe it herself.
"Alisa." Paul breathed her name in a caress, pulling her into his arms where he held her tightly against him. "I wish there was something I could do or say." She made a protesting little move in his arms that brought his hand to her chin. Gently he tilted it level with his, leaning forward to touch her lips in a soothing, controlled kiss. Then almost regretfully he released her, standing aside while she walked slowly towards the house. She turned once to wave to him and watched from the doorway as he drove away before she closed the door and entered the large foyer. The shawl, hung heavily on her shoulders, so she pulled it off, and tossed it on the bureau. The click of her heels echoed loudly in the empty house as Alisa walked across the hall into the living-room, her arms hugged about her tightly to ward off the chill that seemed to be creeping through her.
"That was a very short good night scene."
Alisa's head lifted sharply to see Zachary seated in one of the armchairs in the darkened room.
"How did you get here?" she gasped.
"As soon as I learned my wife wasn't feeling well, I took the short cut through the vineyards," he answered calmly, rising to walk towards her.
"I suppose you're angry," Alisa sighed, suddenly not caring whether he was or not.
"At you leaving the party without telling me? Or for kissing Paul just a minute ago?"
"For both, I suppose," Alisa answered.
"The first offered me a good excuse to leave the party myself." His eyes mocked her glance of surprise. "And the second reminded me how inexperienced you are at making love."
"The kiss meant nothing," she shrugged.
"Every kiss means something. I think it's time I showed you what I'm talking about. There are all kinds of kisses, each with a different purpose."
Alisa was confused. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Zachary. Even as his hands moved to rest on her arms, the very lightness of his hold made moving away from him a ridiculously childish gesture. Instead she turned her face up to him, curious to discover what he was going to do.
"First of all, there's the duty kiss, much like the one you gave me on our wedding day." His lips brushed hers lightly, a surprising coolness in the touch. "Then there's a kiss between two friends." Again the touch was light, but this time there seemed a bit of warmth to it. He didn't seem to be expecting any resistance from Alisa and she wasn't giving any. "Of course, we have the gentle good night kiss, too." As his lips descended again on hers, there was a slight pressure that Alisa found pleasing. The slowness with which his lips left hers left a feeling of regret behind.
"The next kiss is, I imagine, the type of kiss that Paul gave you, that of a person in love, but who mustn't show it." His hands left her shoulders and moved to her back where he could pull her into his arms, kissing her easily, but without any marked ardency. It was much like the way Paul had kissed her except that she didn't feel the same way, so it couldn't have been the champagne. Something was happening and Alisa wasn't sure she liked it. As he released her, she tried to pull away. "Not yet," he reproached her softly. "There's one more. Surely you can resist one more?"
"This … this is silly," Alisa stammered.
"One more." His coaxing tone weakened her defenses that had already been eroded by the champagne. "The kiss that a man gives to a woman he loves." There was only the very slightest amount of resistance in Alisa as he drew her slowly into his arms. She watched the sensuous curve of his mouth as it lowered towards hers. A flash of exquisite sweetness seared through her at the incredible persuasive ardour in the kiss, her own lips parting almost of their own volition. At this tiny spark of response, Zachary's arms tightened their hold about her, his hands moving down to the small of her back, arching her against him. She tried to remember that she shouldn't respond, that she shouldn't show him that for the first time in her life she was enjoying being kissed, that she felt no feeling of repugnance in his embrace. But it was no use. Her fingers curled around the lapel of his coat as he increased the passion in his kiss and she answered it with her own. Almost reluctantly, his lips left hers even though she involuntarily moved forward to try to recapture them again.
She stared up to his face, barely visible in the waning light. There was no mistaking the fiery passion burning in his eyes as he looked down upon her. An inner trembling was coursing through her and her heart was pounding faster than its normal rate. Through his suit she could feel the quickened pace of his heart. A tremulous thrill grew inside her that he had reacted to her as well.
"Is that all?" Her voice came out all husky and thick and he smiled at the sound of it.
He shook his head negatively to the side. "When a man wants to make love to a woman, he sometimes kisses her like this."
Love–love: Her mind reeled. Why did he keep using that word? This time there was no initial gentleness when his mouth descended on hers. Immediately Alisa was overwhelmed by the demanding, taking power in his kiss. But she was more frightened by the strange fe
eling that was taking over her own body, the growing heat in her own loins that was spreading its warmth through her limbs until she seemed deprived of any strength to do anything but succumb to whatever he wanted.
"There could only be one reason for this," her mind cried out. "You're in love with him."
"Yes, yes, I am," her heart replied, as she gave herself up ecstatically to his kiss.
It didn't matter how much she had scoffed at love before. She had never known what it felt like, that it could bring such a wondrous joy and happiness with it. Her arms slid around his neck as she stood on tiptoes, crushed against his body and loving every part of him that touched her. Abruptly he broke away from her lips, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"Zach, Zach," Alisa murmured, burying her head in his coat, shy and afraid to meet his eyes after baring her feelings so openly in her response to his embrace.
"You learn very quickly. This isn't the champagne, is it?" Alisa made a small negative move of her head. His hand became entangled in her hair as he forced her to look up to him. She gazed at him in open adoration. "I knew when I saw you in that dress that I wanted to hold you like this." He inhaled deeply at the look in her eyes. "You shouldn't look at a man like that, Alisa. It would lead him to think things."
"I didn't know … I didn't know it could be like this," she whispered. Her arms tightened around his neck.
Zachary moaned softly before he covered her mouth with his, forsaking it to rain kisses over her eyes, nose, ears, and neck before coming again to claim her lips. At the same time his hands were moving over the bare skin of her back as if trying to find a way to mould her even closer to his body, the aching need of both of them trying to transcend the limits of physical ability. As his hand moved between them, slipping into the neckline of her gown to cup her rounded, straining breast, Alisa emitted a gasp of fear and pleasure. Almost immediately his hand moved away as his mouth slowly left hers.
"No!" she protested weakly.
Zachary inhaled deeply, "Alisa, you don't know what you're doing. We either stop now or–" He left the obvious hanging in the air.
"I know," surprising herself with her own calmness, even as she reached up to touch his lips with her own.
In one movement, he covered her lips and swept her off her feet into his arms. He had carried her to the stairs and his foot was on the first step when the phone rang shrilly. Zachary gazed down at her, his lips touching the arm that encircled his neck.
"Shall we let it ring?" he asked.
Alisa hesitated. "It might be Chris. Something could have happened."
He sighed with a reluctance that sent Alisa's heart pounding wilder than before. In the light of her love she understood so many things about their relationship in the past and her unaccountable dislike of Renée.
"I wish I'd torn the damn thing off the wall," Zachary muttered, setting Alisa reluctantly on her feet.
"I'll get it," she smiled, so happy that he felt as sorry as she did.
His head bent to touch her lips sweetly before she hurried to the hall phone and picked up the receiver, her eyes returning to stare admiringly at this tall, handsome man who was her husband, and whom she loved now so deeply.
"Stuart residence," she said into the receiver.
"I'd like to speak to Zachary, please," Renée's voice demanded.
Alisa's heart stopped cold. She began swallowing convulsively as she tried to answer. A wave of cold shame washed over her as she realized that never once had Zachary said he loved her. How often had she drummed it into her own head that men don't have to be in love to make love!
"Alisa, what's wrong?" At the stricken look on Alisa's face, he walked swiftly to her side. "Who is it?"
"Renée." The word was practically torn from her throat. "I suppose you forgot …" The hurt was so excruciatingly painful that she could hardly talk. Zachary seemed to sway in front of her in the misty tears that were blocking her vision. "…Another rendezvous."
In the next second she was shoving the receiver into his stunned hand and racing up the stairs to her room. She heard his strident order to come back, but she ignored it. When she heard him direct his words to the phone, her flight to escape increased its pace. Not until she reached her room did Alisa pause, leaning against the closed door, her head moving from side to side in the agony of her shame. She wanted him; she loved him; and she wanted him still, even knowing he was unfaithful, even knowing that he might never be faithful. That was her shame, her humiliation. But she knew, no matter how much she wanted him, she could never do it without love.
Her hands fumbled at the door-knob. There was no lock! In a matter of minutes, Zachary would be coming up the stairs. And there was no way to lock the door! She glanced around the darkened room until her gaze stopped on the straight-backed chair in the corner. Swiftly Alisa raced across the room, bringing it back and propping it under the handle of the door. From the hallway came the sounds of his sure strides. Slowly she backed away from the door, unknowingly holding her breath as he came closer. Her back touched the wall beside the window where she stopped. Her gaze was hypnotized to the door knob.
"Alisa?" The golden knob turned, releasing its catch while the door moved a fraction of an inch before it was held by the chair. "Alisa!" Zachary's voice was angry and demanding as his fist pounded on the door. "Open this door!"
She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She wasn't going to answer him.
"Alisa, I want to talk to you." He made an attempt to control the anger in his voice. "Renée called to make sure everything was all right. I never had any intention or plan to meet her tonight."
"Sure," Alisa thought bitterly, "she just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Then why didn't she ask me?" she cried out silently.
"Alisa, open the door!"
Zachary was angry. "Let him be angry," her heart cried. "Let him feel the disappointment that I feel!" What would he do? she wondered. Would he break down the door? With the chair that would be practically impossible. There were several more minutes of silence until she finally heard his muffled swearing and his footsteps moving away from the door. Slowly, with every muscle, fibre and bone in her body aching with pain, Alisa turned to stare out the window. She longed for the release that tears would bring, but there was none. She curled her arms about her waist, rocking slowly from side to side trying to comfort the hurt that was too deep to be comforted.
There was a click and the room was illuminated with light. Spinning around, Alisa saw Zachary standing in the room near the doorway to the bathroom that connected her room to Christine's. She had forgotten. So foolishly she had forgotten. Her pain-filled eyes stared into the black fury that covered his face.
"Wouldn't it have been much simpler if you'd just opened the door?" Zachary asked sarcastically.
Her eyes closed briefly as she turned her back to him to stare out the window.
"Damn it, why won't you talk to me? I can explain if you'd give me the chance!" His long, lithe strides carried him swiftly to her.
"Get out of here, Zachary." Her words came out with all the frigid coldness of her former self.
"And forget what happened downstairs?" His question mocked her more effectively than his voice.
"Mark it up to champagne and moonlight," Alisa said bitterly. "After all, what's a few wasted moments?"
"That was real. That happened. I won't accept—" His hands reached out and captured her shoulders. With surprising violence she wrenched herself away from him.
"Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!" All her control was lost.
Zachary stared down at her, the angry fire in his eyes meeting the blue sparks of hers. For a moment she thought he was going to hit her and she almost welcomed the thought of physical abuse, but it was not to be. Instead he pivoted on his heel and stalked to the door. He stood in front of the chair that had previously barred his entry before picking it up and turning towards Alisa.
"You won't need this tonight." His jeering voice, a com
bination of anger and sarcasm. Then he flung the chair across the room as if it was a toothpick before slamming out the door.
The resounding crash of the wooden chair against the wall sounded like an explosion in the room. Alisa's hands covered her ears at the splintering sound. A shudder quaked through her body as she surveyed the damaged chair and wall. Then, almost staggering to the bed, she collapsed on the coverlet, all her energy drained and her spirit dead. In a trance-like state she heard Zachary leave the house. She didn't even spare a thought to where he might be going. He was going to Renée. A convulsion of jealousy stabbed at her body knowing that he could have been there with her.
It was nearly dawn when sleep finally claimed her, carrying her off into a nightmare world where Zachary kept moving out of her reach.
Chapter Nine
ALISA gazed out of her window. The noonday sun shone brightly on the autumn colours of red and gold. The rays danced in the window, picking up the shimmer of the stone on her left hand until it appeared as red as the blood that was surely pouring from her broken heart. The light of the new day didn't bring any fresh perspective on her situation. After awaking at nearly ten and making sure that Zachary wasn't in the house, Alisa had gone downstairs, sipped indifferently at her coffee, and tried to think of a logical solution. But her heart wasn't ruled by logic. There only seemed to be one choice.
Sighing heavily, she turned from her bedroom window and walked to the cupboard. From the far corner, she brought out her suitcases. There was no longer any way that she could stay in the same house with Zachary. An annulment would be a simple procedure, one that she would start in motion the minute she left the house. With leaden movements, Alisa opened the suitcases on her bed and began transferring the clothes from her drawers into the empty bags. Outside the closed window she heard a car crunch to a stop, the sound of slamming car doors followed by the opening and closing of the front door of the house. In her lethargic state, her mind registered little else except that it wasn't Zachary's footsteps she heard on the stairs. It really wasn't until Christine came bursting into the room that Alisa had even given a thought to the fact that it wasn't a schoolday.
