by Rena McKay
"Carrying my bride across the threshold."
Robyn felt a wild surge of excitement. His face was only inches from hers, her body pressed almost painfully against his chest. Deftly, he opened the heavy door without loosening his grip on her. The satin of her dress was a seductive barrier between his hands and her skin. Her dress caught on the door, slipping up to expose a slim and shapely thigh. Trev slid the dress down but she felt his gaze and touch lingering on her exposed leg.
Robyn felt her breath catch and hold. They were alone. No need for pretense now. Yet he was looking at her with a strangely raw, hungry look.
And then Dr. Helgeson's car slid neatly to a stop behind the Ferrari. Robyn's excitement drained away. Of course, Trev was only preparing a pleasant little scene for Mrs. Barrone to see when she arrived, the happy groom carrying the blushing bride over the threshold. Trev never missed a trick.
Robyn held her body stiff and unyielding as Trev carried her inside. "You can put me down," she snapped as soon as they were out of Mrs. Barrone's sight. "No one can see us now so you can drop the act."
Still he didn't release her. His eyes narrowed appraisingly. "You think everything I do is an act for someone else's benefit?"
Without waiting for an answer he whirled and carried her up the open stairway to a balcony of rooms overlooking the huge living room. Robyn pounded on his chest, frightened by his determined expression. He flung her across the bed. She barely had time to utter an enraged protest before his body trapped hers on the bed, holding her breathless beneath him.
"Let me—go!" she gasped.
If he heard, he made no sign. His eyes were half closed as he covered her eyes and temples and throat with kisses. Robyn struggled to free herself, but his lips found hers, and, against her will, she found her body responding. His body moved against hers, one hand slipping beneath her back to mold her body against his, his mouth devouring hers hungrily in a kiss that sent her senses spinning dizzily.
When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, their eyes met, Robyn's astonished, his, darkened by passion.
Slowly he stood up and ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen across his forehead. He straightened his tie, his eyes still never breaking their hold on hers.
Robyn hadn't moved. He leaned over her, one hand on either side of her. "Was that an act?" he demanded harshly.
"I—I don't know what you mean!" she gasped.
He looked at her a moment longer before saying enigmatically, "No, perhaps you don't."
He straightened, his manner once more formally polite. "I think you'll find everything you need in the closet and bathroom. I had Luther go to your place and bring your things over during the ceremony." Then, with another of those flashing smiles, he was gone, leaving Robyn to raise a trembling hand to her bruised mouth.
She was numb, unable to move. Her glance roamed slowly around the huge bedroom, more elegant than anything she had ever seen. Gleaming, richly-hued furnishings, pale ivory carpeting, built-in bar, television and stereo. The bedspread beneath her was puffed patchwork velvet, soft and luxuriously sensuous. Sliding glass doors opened onto a private deck. Slowly she got up and went to a walk-in closet. Her clothes were there, neatly hanging on one rod, much space still bare. The bathroom was larger than her entire bedroom back home, her startled gaze was reflected in a series of angled mirrors. She ran a hand over the luxurious dressing table; her small supply of toiletries looked dwarfed in this elegance.
And then a shocking thought hit her. She raced to the other closet and flung the door open. It was half full of suits, neatly hanging pants, shirts, shoes, boots.
Trev thought—expected—how dare he!
Robyn grabbed a beige jersey blouse and brown pants from her closet and stormed into the bathroom to change, hastily locking the door behind her. Her hands trembled as she pulled the slithery blouse around her shoulders, trembled with fury and a kind of incriminating weakness that she found almost terrifying. If Trev hadn't stopped on his own…
Determinedly she decided she must make one thing plain to Trev at once. There was a point beyond which she would not carry this charade. She marched into the closet to gather up an armload of her clothes and move them elsewhere, but then she hesitated. It would look a little strange if she ran into Dr. Helgeson or the nurse while carting her belongings. Reluctantly she replaced the clothing in the closet.
She hurried down the stairs. No one seemed to be around. Then she spotted an open door down a hallway. There she found Mrs. Barrone in her wheelchair admiring the pleasant little patio with a backdrop of redwoods just outside more sliding glass doors. Robyn was astonished to see that the room was already lavishly equipped with a hospital bed, a television conveniently suspended so it could be watched from the bed, plus Mrs. Barrone's familiar plants scattered everywhere, with no need for rotation in this light, airy room.
"Robyn! There you are. Trev said you'd gone up to change."
"Where is he?"
"Dr. Helgeson was having a problem with his car. He and Trev went to look at it. Mrs. Bundy went to get her things out of the car."
"She's going to be your private nurse?"
"No. Trev has hired someone else. I understand she hasn't arrived yet, so Mrs. Bundy agreed to stay for a day or two." She held out her hand to Robyn, her faded eyes suddenly glistening. "You don't know how happy you've made me."
"I'm happy too." The words came out automatically. Robyn squeezed the frail hand.
"But I feel terrible about intruding on the two of you like this. I know it's because of me you're not even taking a honeymoon."
"No, really, that isn't it."
"You should at least have had a couple of weeks to yourselves here in the house before I came," Mrs. Barrone fussed. "The last thing a pair of young lovers needs is an old lady and some busybody nurse bustling around. The two of you deserve some time alone together."
Robyn had a sudden vision of just Trev and herself here in the house together. No interruptions, just a romantic fire in the fireplace, the lights of the bay below, the tempting, velvet-covered bed upstairs… Her palms felt damp and that strange feeling of giddy weakness swept over her as she remembered the feel of Trev's strong, hard body holding her down. The danger inherent in such a situation sent a shiver throughout her body.
"I'm glad you're here," Robyn said, trying to control the tremulousness in her voice. "Very glad," she added almost vehemently, struggling to blot out that half-frightening, half-tantalizing vision.
"Do you like the house?" Mrs. Barrone asked.
"Yes, it's lovely." Robyn strolled over to the sliding glass door and looked out at the redwoods. "You knew about the house?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes. Trev realized that I would never leave Caverna Bay, and that's why he was away when I fell. He had gone down to Los Angeles to see about selling the house near Palm Springs and buying this one. I'm a terrible bother, I guess." She smiled mischievously. "But considering the way things worked out, I can't say I'm sorry."
So this house was the "business" that had taken Trev out of town, Robyn realized in surprise. Why had he never told her? It would certainly have justified his absence. But Trev, she thought scornfully, would never feel obligated to justify any of his actions.
"Trev asked me not to tell you," Mrs. Barrone added. "He wanted to surprise you."
The understatement of the year, Robyn thought grimly. Aloud she said hesitantly, "Did our marriage surprise you?"
"Not really," Mrs. Barrone returned. "You made quite an impression on Trev that day you met on the beach, you know. He came home and asked me a million questions about you."
"He did?" Robyn asked, flustered both by the surprising information and Mrs. Barrone's knowing nod. She changed the subject. "This is such a magnificent place. I wonder—I mean, I know Trev made a lot of money from the book and movie, but—"
"But you're wondering if he can afford all this." Mrs. Barrone laughed. "I don't think you have to worry. T
rev's other grandparents were quite wealthy and he inherited a great deal from them. Then he also inherited his mother's property when she died of a rare kidney disease while he was in Africa."
Surprised again, Robyn turned away from the view of the redwoods. "I didn't know that she was dead."
"I didn't either." Mrs. Barrone's lined face looked suddenly sad. "I feel guilty now. All those bad thoughts I had about her for so many years. From what Trev says, she always knew she might not live very long. Perhaps it explains why she tried to grab everything she could from life while she had the chance."
Robyn strolled restlessly around the room. The grass green carpet with a scattering of cheerful yellow throw rugs and the plants made the room almost an indoor garden. Beyond the gleaming bathroom a door opened onto an adjoining room for a nurse.
"Has Trev ever said anything about why he never contacted you all those years?" Robyn asked.
Mrs. Barrone hesitated a moment before speaking. "His mother told him—things. She let him think I was a rich, greedy old lady who didn't want anything to do with him because I disapproved of her."
"Why, that's terrible!" Robyn gasped indignantly.
"Perhaps it had something to do with her illness. And perhaps it was my fault too. I should have tried harder to understand her," Mrs. Barrone said with her characteristic charity. It was obvious she intended to hold no grudges for what was past. "But Trev is here now and you two have each other, and that is all that matters. He loves you very much, you know."
"Did he tell you that?" Robyn asked, feeling a strange rush of hope.
"No, but I can tell. And I know you love him deeply too."
Mrs. Bundy bustled back in then, carrying an overnight bag and some flowers she had scooped up from the church. Together she and Robyn helped move Mrs. Barrone into the standard hospital bed. Robyn kissed Mrs. Barrone on the cheek and said she thought she would take a further look around the house.
She wandered back to the living room. Darkness and fog had moved in, blotting out the view. Someone had lit a crackling fire in the fireplace. An enormous, obviously custom-made sofa lined the full length of the windows. A magnificent seascape decorated the wall beneath the overhanging balcony. She sat down on a plush ottoman in front of the fire and crossed her arms on her knees, staring into the flames.
The conversation with Mrs. Barrone had been illuminating. It explained several things: Trev's lack of communication with his grandmother over the years, his out of town business trip which Robyn had been so quick to assume was for less honorable purposes. His concern for his grandmother was evident in the time and effort he had put into preparing her room.
But Robyn had to laugh grimly at herself for the hope that had surged through her when Mrs. Barrone spoke of Trev's "love" for Robyn. If Trev had convinced his grandmother he really loved Robyn, it was yet another tribute to his marvelous acting ability. But Mrs. Barrone was all too correct about Robyn's feelings for Trev, she though unhappily.
A noise behind her startled her out of her reverie. She had been sitting there so long that the fire had died to glowing coals and the room had grown dark around her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Trev had changed clothes and was now wearing casual slacks and shirt. Robyn eyed him warily.
"Grandma is sleeping and Mrs. Bundy is having supper on a tray in her room. I asked Luther to bring us something light here."
Robyn realized she hadn't eaten anything but a few bites of wedding cake since her skimpy breakfast that morning. "Who is Luther?" Robyn asked.
"He and his wife used to work for my grandparents. Marie is a marvelous cook. We'll probably need someone else to help around the house."
Robyn took a deep breath. It was time to get things straightened out now. "Why are my things in your room?" she asked bluntly.
"I imagine because that is where Luther thought they belonged," Trev answered mildly. Pointedly he added, "I do believe I recall a minister pronouncing us husband and wife."
Robyn chewed her lower lip uncertainly. She supposed it was possible the unseen Luther had put her things in Trev's room on the assumption that was where they belonged. And it was also possible that was where Trev had told Luther to put them, and he was even now laughing inwardly at her discomfort. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He had dropped to the floor, his back against the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of the fireplace. He looked relaxed, comfortable and at home. A chunk of wood fell, flickering into flames. The flames highlighted his dark hair and made the smile he turned on her almost devilish.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he said lightly.
"My things will have to be moved to another room." She was annoyed that her voice came out sounding prissy instead of authoritative.
"Whatever you say," he agreed, surprisingly genial. "Would you like me to call Luther and have him move them now?"
Robyn hesitated, thinking how odd that would look to the servant. Reluctantly she said, "No, I'll do it myself."
"There's plenty of time," Trev agreed. "At least wait until we eat." He reached over and tossed another chunk of wood on the fire. Silently, they both watched the shower of sparks rise up the chimney.
"Why did you buy this place?" she asked.
"Grandma was adamant that she wouldn't leave Caverna Bay. Then when you wouldn't help convince her—"
"I never said that," Robyn broke in indignantly. "I fully intended to go over and talk to her. I realize now I should have gone sooner, of course, but at the time I was—busy," she finished lamely.
"I waited, and when you didn't show up—"
"You couldn't have waited very long," Robyn protested. Her back suddenly felt stiff and achy from sitting on the ottoman so long. She stood up. Standing made her feel more in control of the situation. "You were just angry because I didn't jump like a trained dog at your command. And when you bought the house, you might at least have told me."
"At first I didn't see any point in it," he said logically. "No one expected her to live."
That was true, Robyn agreed reluctantly. It was the very reason they had gotten into this involved tangle. "But it wasn't fair, springing it on me at the church like that."
"No, I suppose not. But, frankly, I was afraid you wouldn't go through with the wedding if you knew about the house. Would you have?" he challenged.
"I don't know. But I should have had the chance to make up my own mind."
He gave her a warning look and she realized someone was approaching through the shadows. Trev introduced the servant, Luther, who was carrying a large tray of covered dishes.
"Just set the tray over there," Trev directed. "We'll help ourselves."
Luther set the tray on the raised hearth. He was carrying a silver bucket holding a bottle of champagne surrounded by crushed ice. He set the bucket below the hearth, away from the heat of the flames, and departed as quietly as he had come.
Robyn looked at the little scene uneasily, throat suddenly tight. Romantically flickering fire, champagne chilling, Trev relaxed and looking dangerously attractive half-sitting, half-lying by the fire. She walked determinedly toward the big lamp midway down the long sofa. "I'll get the light. It seems rather dark in here."
She shouldn't have walked so close to him. He reached out and trapped her ankle lightly.
"No. Don't. Just the firelight is pleasant, don't you think?" He paused, then went on. "Look, I realize this is all very inconvenient for you, to say the least. And I have to admit it isn't what I had in mind when I first suggested we tell Grandma what I thought was a deathbed story of our getting married. But it's too late now. We're here. We might as well make the best of a bad situation. It is, after all, only temporary, if that's any consolation for you."
It was—and it wasn't, Robyn thought unhappily, the confusion of feelings returning. She didn't want Mrs. Barrone to die. She had no doubt but that this deception had prolonged Mrs. Barrone's life and increased her happiness and peace of mind imme
asurably. But until Mrs. Barrone died Robyn was trapped here. And so, of course, was Trev, she reminded herself as she eyed him warily again. He was no doubt right. The thing to do was make the best of the situation. How many chances would she ever have to live in a house like this, with servants and an incredible view—and champagne chilling in a silver bucket? If only she didn't feel about Trev the way she did! If only she could take this as resignedly as he was doing, without the sweet-painful ache of her hopeless love for him.
"Look, it's our wedding night," he said lightly. "Can't we at least be friends?"
His tone was so disarming that Robyn felt confused. He seemed different now, no longer harsh and arrogant, but gentle, even understanding. Sympathetic to her position. Perhaps he had resigned himself to making the best of an awkward situation.
"Friends?" he asked, thrusting out a hand for a handshake.
"Friends," Robyn agreed, returning the hearty handshake and trying to ignore the thrill even that impersonal touch gave her.
Trev uncovered the dishes. Sitting companionably cross-legged on the floor, they ate delicately flavored crab bisque and crusty French bread topped with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese. There was a plate of crisp relishes and, to Robyn's astonishment, even a large slice of wedding cake complete with two forks.
"I see Marie is a romantic," Trev said dryly. "I wonder where she got hold of that."
"Don't look at me," Robyn retorted.
"Champagne?" he suggested.
"Why not?" Robyn returned recklessly in the same casual, friendly tone. He smiled at her, firelight gleaming in his eyes.
He opened the bottle expertly, producing a satisfactory pop without spilling any of the sparkling liquid. Robyn hesitantly accepted a gracefully curved goblet. She'd never tasted champagne and wasn't sure how she would react to it.
To her surprise the champagne was delicious, light and bubbling. Trev seemed as surprised as she was at how easily she tossed it down. He refilled her glass approvingly.
"Good. It'll relax you. You've been all tied up in knots for days. In fact, you're sitting there all tense and stiff right now, aren't you?"
