Unwilling Wife

by Renee Roszel

  A thrill rushed through her, swelling her heart. All fear and doubt fell away, and she felt as though she’d been freed from heavy shackles. “Oh, David,” she cried, tears filling her eyes. “I never thought you would agree to such a thing. You never compromise.”

  Curling arms about his neck, she met his kiss eagerly, her mouth slanting across his, open, welcoming and torrid.

  He groaned with relief and pleasure. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his tongue flicking her lips, her teeth, the tender recess of her mouth, delighting her. “I’d give up everything for you.”

  Her breasts heaved in growing excitement at the passion he was stirring inside her, both with the wonder of his words and his lips, his hands. He was once again hers—and there was a new openness, equalness, within the relationship. David had actually promised to compromise! He would give up everything for her! She was delirious, and with a relish she hadn’t known for a long time, she ran her tongue provocatively across his lower lip, nipping playfully. From the position in which he had imprisoned her with his hard, taut body, she could readily detect his arousal, and she giggled with heady anticipation.

  He came up on one elbow, smiling down at her, his eyes gleaming like polished silver, his lashes lowered questioningly. “What’s so funny?” he asked softly.

  “I’m just so happy.” She reached up to toy with the top button of his pin-striped shirt.

  He sat up, gently brushing her hand away. “No, my love. You first. I want to feast my starving eyes on you.”

  She felt unexpectedly shy as he began to lift her sweatshirt upward. Their eyes continued to lock, and they smiled at each other, their expressions deeply loving, expectant, intense.

  The shirt removed, David caressed the soft flesh of her exposed breasts with his thumb, seductively, unhurriedly. Gina closed her eyes and sighed as his lips replaced his thumb, and she lifted her arms to his head, pressing, caressing his soft curls, pressing his moist, hot mouth more intimately into her softness.

  Arching upward, she helped as he removed the scrap of lace that was her bra, and his sensual search resumed as he teased and nipped, drawing gasps of heightened pleasure from her.

  In a daze of passion, Gina was relieved of the remainder of her clothes, and David paid ultimate masculine homage to her body. Secret, cloistered places were gently conquered and glorified by the vast expertise of his lips. Engulfed in delicious sensations, she reached for him, clawing, frenzied by a woman’s need to draw him into her, to complete the uniting of their bodies, their eternal souls.

  When, at last, David became one with her, she allowed herself an unabashed moan of joy and circled his powerful hips with her legs. She wanted to hold him within her intimate grasp for an endless time. But David had other ideas. He thrust deeply against her, drawing a cry of pleasure.

  With a low chuckle and a lingering kiss, he murmured, “This is only the beginning, sweetheart….”

  They moved together, more and more quickly, their bodies taking on a wild rhythm as their fervor burned higher. Gina held on to David as he thrust sweetly, blessedly, driving her toward the brink of rapture.

  Tears of ecstasy ran down her cheeks, and she cried out his name as she plunged into the rending oblivion of her orgasm. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and she found herself crying, sighing, laughing. She was euphoric, fulfilled—and unreservedly in love.

  David’s release was less exuberant. He stilled above her and clung to her, his body tense, but she could feel his shudder within her, and she delighted in the emotional closeness of the moment, kissing his damp shoulder.

  Neither spoke for a long time, simply relishing their harmony of spirit. Finally David stirred, whispering hoarsely, “I didn’t dare even dream of this…”

  Her heart near to bursting, she stroked his hard, slick back with her fingernails. “Me, neither. I love you so, but I thought I’d taken everything too far for us ever to come back together this way.”

  As he lifted his head to gaze down at her, his face held an other worldly beauty: eyes glistening between long, dark lashes, tousled curls, strong, masculine lips gentled by their lovemaking. He shook his head at her as if to say she never could have taken things too far. “I will always love you, Gina,” he vowed quietly.

  Unable to resist the urge to ruffle his hair further, she asked, “So what are you going to do about Al Einstein Institute?”

  His expression grew quizzical. “What do you mean?”

  She teased a lock of his hair, twirling it around her finger. “I mean, since you’re not going back. What will you tell them?”

  His expression darkened. “Not going back? Why wouldn’t I go back?”

  She felt a thread of trepidation snake up her spine. “Naturally, since I told you I can’t go back, I assumed you meant you weren’t either—when you said you were willing to compromise.”

  He chuckled at her silliness. “Of course, I’m willing to compromise, darling, but I meant you could wear your hair curly and we’d eat red meat a couple times a week.” His smile grew tolerant. “Perhaps even three times, occasionally.”

  Gina recoiled. Feeling dizzy and disoriented by this unexpected blow, she could do little more than shake her head from side to side, denying it, telling herself she hadn’t heard him right. In a tight little voice, she repeated, “Red meat? Curly hair? That’s not the compromise you were talking about, is it?”

  Confused by her distress, he replied, “Naturally. That’s what a compromise is, isn’t it?”

  Feeling as though she’d been slapped, she struggled from beneath him, backing toward the wall. “David, so far you’ve done nothing but make noises like a lenient father! Those weren’t compromises—they were crumbs! I’m not some pigeon you’re trying to coax back into a coop, I’m a human being! And I’ve told you from the beginning, I’m not going back to AEI! I can’t!”

  His gaze narrowed, grew foreboding. “Do you mean to tell me that in order to keep you, I can’t go back to my work? My profession? That’s your idea of a compromise?”

  “It has to be that way,” she declared helplessly, knowing she was asking too much, knowing he couldn’t give her what she wanted, but wishing he would come further than he had—give her something more than scraps. Still damp from their loving, her body began to quake, but more from emotional turmoil than the coolness of the air. This was the deathblow to their marriage she had dreaded—the end.

  He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re asking me to give up everything.”

  “Everything? And only a short while ago, you said I was everything to you,” she reminded him sadly.

  He cursed. “Gina, don’t make me choose between you and my work. I love my work.”

  She fought nausea, charging brokenly, “Then go back and make love to it!”

  His features contorted in a scowl. “I have to leave today. Are you coming back with me, or not?”

  “I—I can’t,” she cried. “Nothing’s changed. Listen to yourself. You’re dictating to me again. Good Lord, we’re still naked from making love and you’re already trying to control me.” She scrambled from the bed and stumbled on trembly legs to the bathroom door.

  His breath harsh in his throat, he watched her run. Pale, fragilely beautiful, she was struggling away from him, and the pain of it was like a knife in his belly. But David was angry. The little hellion wanted everything her way. She wasn’t compromising, either! Before she could close the bathroom door between them, he growled, “Why can’t you give up a little, compromise a little bit?”

  She turned on him, her eyes large, anguished, spitting jade fire. “A little bit?” With an utterly devastated sob, she retorted, “Why don’t you just go a little bit to hell!”

  Epilogue

  There was an autumn crispness in the salt air as September drew to a vivid close. The briny scent of the ocean breeze mixed pleasantly with the smells of the forest. Gina sat with her back supported by the rough bark of a redwood as Lumper entertained himself by boun
ding among the ferns. It had taken the cat weeks to venture outside at all, and now he would go only if Gina was within pouncing distance. She picked a frond and absently toyed with it, smiling at Lumper’s antics while he darted one way and then another, startling insects into flight.

  “Just don’t startle any snakes or spiders my way,” she warned. But Lumper paid no heed, scampering happily about.

  She swallowed, her eyes trailing over the sanctity of the woods. She’d spent more and more time out here since David’s angry departure a month ago. A sharp pang wrenched her as she recalled him. David’s face had been drawn, making the bones of his cheeks and jaw appear even more prominent, and his voice had been devastatingly cool as he said goodbye.

  Days later, after she’d wrung herself dry crying, she’d taken to working on her book in the sun-dappled solitude of the forest. There, there were fewer memories, fewer painful distractions. At least her book was going well—or so her editor had told her after he’d scanned the first six chapters she’d sent him. That was good news.

  She sighed heavily. Good news. She supposed so. He’d even sweetened the tidings with an advance check of five thousand dollars. Though Gina lived frugally, the money would certainly come in handy.

  “Five thousand dollars will buy a lot of cat food.” She smiled wanly. “I hope.”

  Lumper abruptly bounded into her lap, drawing a grunt from her. “You’re getting too fat to do that, fella,” she scolded softly, stroking him into a fit of purring. “Maybe I should reconsider the cat food.”

  The sky was growing dark, and she could no longer work. It was time to go back to the lighthouse—the lonely, empty lighthouse. She sighed again—something she’d been doing all too often lately. She was still grieving over her loss of David. She’d foolishly hoped he’d relent; that he’d write, phone, something. But she hadn’t heard a word from him.

  Another thing she hadn’t done was initiate new divorce proceedings. Lord knew why. There was certainly no reconciliation brewing. David had made his choice clear, and so had she. End of marriage.

  Still, she hesitated. Every day she expected to hear from his lawyers, but nothing materialized. So she continued to live in a limbo state. It wasn’t so bad, really. She had no desire to date, and being legally married was as good an excuse as any to detour interested men.

  Closing her spiral notebook, Gina dumped Lumper out of her lap and stood. “It’s time to fix dinner. What do you want tonight, Tuna Festival or Sailor’s Surprise?”

  Lumper rubbed her leg, meowing.

  “A can of Tuna Festival, it is. But promise you won’t get into my fish if I have to get up from the table to answer the phone. You did last week, remember? I had to eat peanut butter.”

  Lumper rubbed, turned and rubbed again.

  She lifted him in her arms. “Well—I doubt if it’ll make much of a problem. I don’t believe the siding salespeople will call again quite this soon.”

  She trudged toward the edge of the wood thinking about her life as it was now. She liked Maryvale, but she lived so far from town, she missed a lot. And her work was terribly solitary. Paul had finally—and sensibly—given up on her, and any other interested men had been gently rebuffed. Max, his macho ego bruised, had not only not called, but had gotten a new parcel-delivery route.

  Gina had become involved as a hospital volunteer one day a week, but, all things considered, she was lonesome. And, having gained ten pounds, she was on a diet. She’d learned to abide salads and had found that baked fish seasoned with herbs and lemon was not only tasty but took less work than frying.

  If David could only see her now. Allowing herself a sad, ironic smile, she realized she’d even relinquished quite a bit of her outlandish wardrobe to more conventional dress. Deep down, Gina supposed she wasn’t a true rebel. She’d rebelled, yes; but it wasn’t her nature to be resistant to all social values—just David’s narrow concept of them.

  She left the wood and headed across the open field toward her lighthouse. Out over the jutting cliff, she could see the explosion of color that boded the end of the day. The sun was diving into the ocean, molten, dying, but not without a bloody fight. The magnificent scene reminded her of the night David had appeared on the beach and tossed their divorce papers into the flames where The Dean’s Wife burned. She tried to force the memory from her mind and trod around the corner of the lighthouse and up the path to her porch.

  As she opened the door, she thought she smelled smoke drifting up from the sea. Smoke?

  Curious, she put the cat inside along with her notebook and turned to scan the sea. Nothing. But from this vantage point she couldn’t see much of the beach.

  Someone must be down there, trespassing. It happened every so often. She usually didn’t mind. Nevertheless, she’d have to go down and tell them it was private property and to clean up before they went. Then she’d tell them where a public beach was located. There’d never been any trouble—usually just a couple in love and seeking privacy. Still, every time she had to face the situation, she was a little nervous. These days, one never knew….

  When she reached the edge of the cliff, she peered down, unsure what to do next. A bonfire flickered in competition with the grandeur of the sunset. She approached with caution, descending the long, twisting path of steps reluctantly. No one appeared to be attending the fire. Strange.

  When, at last, she was standing before it, gazing into it almost transfixedly, she heard a sound and turned.

  The man stood some twenty feet away, the shadow of a jutting arm of the cliff masking his features. But the set of his broad shoulders and the command in his stance gave him away.

  “David…” she breathed, her throat suddenly going so dry, she could hardly swallow to clear it.

  He began to move forward and she noticed that he was carrying something. When he’d reached the flickering light of the fire, she could tell it was a suitcase. “You look lovely, Gina.” His voice came softly, whispered through the gathering shadows.

  Her lips opened soundlessly. She was wearing yellow. He detested yellow on her. “What—what are you doing here?” she asked, perplexed.

  He regarded her with soft, gray eyes for a long moment. The surf pounded against the shore but Gina could only hear the pounding of her heartbeat. Without preamble, he knelt and opened the suitcase, drawing from it an expensive suit. With a disinterested toss, he sent the suit sprawling into the flames.

  Gina sucked in a surprised breath, her eyes widening. “What—are you doing?” she cried, staring blankly at the costly worsted as it became ash and smoke.

  He tossed more clothes onto the fire. Only when the suitcase was also a crackling, hissing memory did he move to her side. “Can’t you guess?” Some elemental emotion in his silvery eyes stilled the breath in her throat as he murmured, “I’m burning The Dean.” He spared his expensive wardrobe the most cursory of glances before he added with a wry grin, “Dastardly bore he was, too. I say, let him burn.”

  She blinked, stunned. “Really, David?”

  He nodded, his smile gentling, his teeth glinting mischievously. “But I’m not through.”

  She was confused until he slid one suspender off his shoulder, then the other.

  “David?” she asked, her voice edged with a mixture of shock and delight. “Are you undressing?”

  He flashed that grin again. “Mmm, hmm.” The trousers slid tantalizingly down along his muscular thighs.

  “But—but what will you do about clothes?” she queried, her eyes feasting on his slow, fire-lit striptease.

  “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that for days,” he suggested, his voice full of sensual promise.

  The trousers hit the flames, followed swiftly by his tassel moccasins and designer socks.

  Gina watched in awe. “But—but AEI?”

  His shirt was slipping open one button at a time, though he kept his eyes on hers. “I told them I needed a year off—maybe more. I had some writing to do, and so did my wife. We�
��d let them know.”

  The shirt slid off his broad shoulders, and Gina licked her lips unconsciously as the firelight paid greedy homage to his flesh.

  When the shirt fluttered to its demise, he touched her face, whispering, “We could make AEI a better place—more spontaneous, more open and—human. It doesn’t have to be stuffy. Maybe someday we can go back?”

  Inhaling his familiar scent, she scanned his face, now very solemn. Unable to fathom what was happening, she could only stare. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed, feeling stupid and dull-witted. “This is such a shock. What do your colleagues at AEI think?”

  With emotion glistening in his eyes, he confessed, “I don’t give a damn what they think.” His lips twisted wryly. “After all, once they’ve seen my wife throw aspic over my head, what could they possibly say? You’re delightfully unique, Gina. I need you.”

  Guiltily, she dropped her gaze. “I shouldn’t have asked you to quit your job. It was selfish of me.”

  “Maybe it was your turn to be selfish,” he offered softly. Lowering his head to hers, he gently kissed her lips. The endearment had been so tentative, it had felt like the caress of a butterfly’s wing. “Sweetheart, I’m a man without clothes, without a job,” he murmured. “If you turn me away, I’m going to look might funny, hitchhiking back to Maryvale.”

  The vision made her lips lift slightly. “I bet you’d get picked up—half the town is women.”

  With a soft smile he asked, “How’s the book coming?”

  “Quite well—at least my editor says it is.”

  “I have an idea for a follow-up for you,” he offered.

  “You do?” she replied stunned.

  He nodded. “There’s a lighthouse on the Greek coast, purported to have seven dancing ghosts. Your next book could be about international lighthouse phantoms.”

  She cast him a dubious look. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  His shrug was sheepish and piercingly sweet. “I’m a stodgy scholar. Remember?”