Shades of Twilight

by Lind Howard

  “But if I walk in my sleep—”

  “You won’t. I’m going to hold you all night long. You won’t be able to get out of bed without waking me up.” He kissed her long and slow. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll watch over you.”

  But she couldn’t. She could feel the tension coming back, invading her muscles. A habit of ten years’ duration couldn’t be broken in a single night, or even two. Webb might understand the dread she felt at the thought of walking through the night so defenselessly, but he couldn’t feel the panic and helplessness of not waking up in the same place where she’d gone to sleep, not knowing how she’d gotten there or anything that had happened.

  He felt the tension that kept her from relaxing. He held her closer, tried to soothe her with reassurances, but finally he evidently came to the conclusion that nothing would help except complete exhaustion.

  She had thought she was accustomed to his lovemaking, that she already knew the extent of his sensuality. She found that she was wrong.

  He brought her to climax with his hands, with his mouth He put her astride his hard, muscled thigh and rocked her to completion, though she clutched at him and begged him to fill her. Finally he did, pulling her off the bed and turning her so that she was on her knees, bent over with her face buried in the covers. He drove into her from behind, slamming into her buttocks with the force of his thrusts, reaching around to the front of her sex to caress her at the same time. She cried out hoarsely and stifled the sound against the mattress as she climaxed a fourth time, and still he wasn’t finished. She was dissolving, going beyond peaks to a state where the pleasure simply went on and on, like the waves of the tide. It happened again, fast, and she reached back to grab his hips and pull him hard into her as she pulsed around him. Her action caught him by surprise and with a low, savage cry he joined her, shuddering and jerking as he came.

  They were both shaking violently, so weak they could barely crawl back onto the bed. Sweat dripped from their bodies, and they clung together like shipwreck survivors. This time there was no way to fight off the sleep that claimed her as surely as he had.

  She woke once, only enough to be aware that he was still holding her, just as he had promised, and she drifted back to sleep.

  The next time she awoke she was sitting up in bed, and Webb’s fingers were hard around her wrist. “No,” he said softly, implacably. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  She went back into his arms, and began to believe.

  She woke for the last time at dawn, when he got out of bed. “Where are you going?” she asked, yawning and sitting up.

  “To my room,” he replied, pulling on his pants. He smiled at her, and she felt herself melting inside all over again. He looked tough and sexy, with his dark hair tousled and his jaw darkened with beard stubble. His voice was still rough with sleep, and his eyelids were a little puffy, giving him a heavy-lidded, just-had-sex look. “I have to get something,” he said. “Stay right there, and I mean right there. Don’t get out of bed.”

  “All right, I won’t.” He left by the hallway door, and she lay back down and cuddled under the sheet. She wasn’t certain she could get out of bed. She remembered the night that had just passed, the things that had happened between them. She ached deep inside, and her thighs felt weak, sore. That hadn’t been mere lovemaking, that had been a melding that went beyond the mere physical. There were deeper levels of intimacy than she had ever imagined, and yet she knew there were still delights as yet untasted.

  He was back in only a moment, carrying a plastic bag with a pharmacist’s name on it. He placed the bag on the bedside table.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He shucked off his pants again and got into bed beside her, tucking her close to his side. “An early pregnancy test.”

  She stiffened. “Webb, I really don’t think—”

  “It’s possible,” he interrupted. “Why don’t you want to know for certain?”

  “Because I—” She stopped herself that time, and her eyes were somber when she looked up at him. “Because I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  He went still. “Obligated?” he asked carefully.

  “If I’m pregnant, you'll feel responsible.”

  He snorted. “Damn right. I’d be responsible.”

  “I know, but I don’t want … I want you to want me for myself,” she said softly, trying to hide the longing but knowing that she hadn’t quite succeeded. “Not because we were careless and made a baby.”

  “Want you for yourself,” he repeated just as softly. “Haven’t the last two nights given you an idea about that?”

  “I know you want me physically.”

  “I want you, period.” He cupped her face in his hand, stroking his thumb over the soft curve of her mouth. His eyes were very serious. “I love you, Roanna Frances. Will you marry me?”

  Her lips trembled under his touch. When she’d been seventeen, she had loved him so desperately that she would have jumped at any chance to marry him, under any conditions. She was twenty-seven now, and she still loved him desperately—loved him enough that she didn’t want to trap him into another marriage in which he would be miserable. She knew Webb, knew the depths of his sense of responsibility. If she were pregnant, he would do anything to take care of his child, and that included lying to the mother about his feelings for her.

  “No,” she said, her voice almost soundless as she refused what she wanted most on this earth. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

  He didn’t insist, didn’t lose his temper, though she had halfway expected that. His expression remained serious, intent, as he caught the tear with a gentle thumb. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re asking in case I’m pregnant.”

  “Wrong. I’m asking because I love you.”

  “You’re just saying that.” And she wished he would stop saying it. In how many dreams had she heard him whisper those words? It wasn’t fair that now he should say it, now when she didn’t dare let herself believe him. Oh, God, she loved him, but she deserved to be loved for herself. At last she knew the truth of that, and she couldn’t cheat herself of that final dream.

  “I’m not ’just’ saying anything. I love you, Ro, and you have to marry me.”

  Under the serious expression was a certain smugness. She studied him, looking beneath the surface with her somber brown gaze that saw so much. There was a self-satisfied glint deep in his green eyes, a fierce triumph, the way he had always looked when he’d pulled off a difficult deal.

  “What have you done?” she asked, her eyes widening with alarm.

  Amusement curled the edges of his mouth. “When Lucinda and I talked last night, we agreed that it would be better to leave the terms of her will as they stand. Davencourt will be better off in your hands.”

  She went white. “What?” she whispered, something almost like panic edging into her tone. She tried to pull away from him but he forestalled the movement, cuddling her even closer so that her next protest was muffled against his neck.

  “But it’s been promised to you since you were fourteen! You worked for it, you even—”

  “I even married Jessie for it,” he finished calmly. “I know.”

  “That was the bargain. You’d come back if Lucinda changed her will in your favor again.” She felt a great hollow fear growing in the pit of her stomach. Davencourt was the lure that had brought him back, but she and Lucinda had both been aware that he had built his own life in Arizona. Maybe he preferred Arizona to Alabama. Without Davencourt to keep him here, after Lucinda died he would leave again, and after these past two nights she didn’t know if she could stand it.

  “That’s not quite true. I didn’t come back because of the bargain. I came back because I needed to tie up old loose ends. I needed to make my peace with Lucinda; she was a big part of my life, and I owe her a lot. I didn’t want her to die before we cleared the air between us. Davencourt is special, but I’ve done all right in Arizona,” he sa
id in calm understatement. “I don’t need Davencourt, and Lucinda thought you didn’t want it—”

  “I don’t,” she said firmly. “I told you, I don’t want to spend my life in business meetings and studying stock reports.”

  He gave her a lazy smile. “Pity, when you’re so good at it. I guess you’ll have to marry me, and I’ll do it for you. Unlike you, I get my kicks making money. If you marry me, you can very happily spend your time raising kids and training horses, which is what you would have been doing even if Lucinda had left Davencourt to me. The only difference now is that it will all belong to you, lock, stock, and barrel, and you’ll be the boss.”

  Her head was whirling. She wasn’t quite certain that she’d heard what she thought she’d heard. Davencourt was going to be hers, and he was staying anyway? Davencourt was going to be hers …

  “I can hear those wheels turning,” he murmured. He tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. “I came back for one final reason, the most important one. I came back because of you.”

  She swallowed. “Me?”

  “You.” Very gently he stroked one finger down her spine to the cleft of her buttocks, then retraced the caress up her back. She shivered delicately, melting against him. He knew what he was doing with that small, delicate touch. His purpose wasn’t to arouse her but to soothe her, reassure her, reestablish the trust with which she gave her body over to him during lovemaking. The very fact that he wasn’t making love to her now was proof of how intent he was on accomplishing his aim.

  “Let me see if I can make this any clearer,” he mused softly, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid, into so much mischief it’s a wonder my hair didn’t turn prematurely gray. I loved you when you were a teenager with long, skinny legs and eyes that broke my heart every time I looked at you. I love you now that you’re a woman who makes my brain go soft, my legs go weak, and my dick get hard. When you walk into a room, my heart damn near jumps out of my chest. When you smile, I feel as if I’ve won a Nobel Prize. And your eyes still break my heart.”

  The soft litany washed over like the sweetest of songs, soaking into her flesh, her soul, her very being. She wanted so much to believe him, and that was why she was afraid to, afraid she would let her own desires convince her.

  When she didn’t speak, he began those gentling caresses again. “Jessie really did a number on you, didn’t she? She made you feel so unloved and unwanted that you still haven’t gotten over it. Haven’t you figured out yet that Jessie lied? Her whole life was a lie. Don’t you know that Lucinda dotes on you? With Jessie dead, she was finally able to get to know you without Jessie’s poison ruining everything, and she adores you.” He picked up her hand and carried it to his lips, where he kissed each fingertip, then began nibbling on the sensitive pads. “Jessie’s been dead ten years. How long are you going to continue letting her ruin things for you?”

  Roanna tilted her head back, searching his expression with solemn, wondering eyes. With a sense of amazement, she realized she had never seen him look more determined, or more intent. That hard face looking back at her was the face of a man who had made up his mind and was damn sure going to get what he wanted. He meant it. He didn’t want to marry her because she would have Davencourt, because he could have had it without any strings. Lucinda would have honored her bargain. He didn’t want to marry her because she might be pregnant—

  As if he were reading her mind, and perhaps he was, he said, “I love you. I can’t tell you how much, because the words don’t exist. I’ve tried to count the ways, but I’m no Browning. It doesn’t matter if you’re pregnant or not, I want to marry you because I love you. Period.”

  “All right,” she whispered, and trembled at the enormity of the step she was taking, and from the joy that was blooming inside her.

  Her breath whooshed out of her as he crushed her to his chest. “You know how to make a man sweat,” he said fiercely. “I was getting desperate. What do you think about getting married next week?”

  “Next week?” She all but shouted the words, at least as much as she was able to, crushed against his chest the way she was.

  “You didn’t think I was going to give you time to change your mind, did you?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “If you have your heart set on a big church wedding, I suppose I can wait if it doesn’t take too long to arrange. Luanda … Well, I think we should be married within a month, at the most.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “That soon? I hoped she … I hoped she would last through the winter, maybe see another spring.”

  “I don’t think so. The doctor told her that her heart is failing, too.” He rubbed his face against her hair, seeking comfort. “She’s a tough old bird,” he said roughly. “But she’s ready to go. You can see it in her eyes.”

  They held each other quietly for a moment, already grieving for the woman around whom the entire family revolved. But Webb wasn’t a man to be deterred for long from his set course, and he leaned back from her, giving her an inquiring look. “About that wedding—”

  “I don’t want a big church wedding,” she said forcefully, shuddering at the idea. “You did that with Jessie, and I don’t want to repeat it. I was miserable that day.”

  “Then what kind of wedding do you want? We could have it here, in the garden, or at the country club. Do you want just family present, or invite our friends, too? I know you have some, and maybe I can scare up a couple.”

  She pinched him for that remark. “You know darn well you have friends, if you can bring yourself to forgive them and let them be friends again. I want to get married in the garden. I want our friends to be here. And I want Lucinda to walk with me down the aisle, if she’s able. A big wedding would be too much for her, too.”

  One corner of his lip quirked at all of those decisive “I wants.” He suspected that before long, even though she professed not to be interested in Davencourt’s business concerns, she would be poking her nose into it, butting heads with him over some of his decisions. He couldn’t wait. The thought of Roanna arguing with him made him weak with delight. Roanna had always been stubborn, and she still was, even though her methods had changed. “We’ll work out the details,” he said. “We’ll get married next week if we can, two weeks max, all right?”

  She nodded, smiling a little mistily.

  Number seven, he thought triumphantly. And this one had been open, natural, as if she were no longer wary about showing joy.

  Twisting, he reached for the plastic bag on the bedside table and withdrew the contents. He opened the box, read the instructions, then gave her the small plastic wand with a wide slot on the side. “Now,” he said, with a determined glint in his green eyes, “go pee-pee on the stick.”

  Ten minutes later he knocked on the bathroom door. “What are you doing?” he asked impatiently. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said in a muffled voice.

  He opened the door. She was standing nude in front of the sink, her face blank with shock. The plastic stick lay on the rim of the bowl.

  Webb looked at the stick. The slot had been white; now it was blue. It was a simple test: if the color of the slot changed, the test was positive. He eased his arms around her, pulling her into the comforting warmth of his body. She was pregnant. She was going to have his baby. “You really didn’t think you were, did you?” he asked curiously.

  She shook her head, her expression still stunned. “I don’t—I don’t feel any different.”

  “I imagine that will start changing soon.” His big hands slid down to her flat belly, gently massaging. She could feel his heart thumping hard and fast against her back. His penis rose to jut insistently against her hip.

  He was excited. He was aroused. She was stunned at the realization. She had been thinking he would feel only responsibility for the baby; she hadn’t considered that he would be excited at the prospect of being a father. “You want the baby,” she said, her amazement plain in
both face and voice. “You wanted me to be pregnant.”

  “I sure as hell did.” His voice was rough, and he tightened his arms around her. “Don’t you want it?”

  Her hand drifted downward, lightly settling over the place where her child, his child, was forming inside her. Radiant wonder lit her face, and her gaze met Webb’s in the mirror. “Oh, yes.” she said softly.

  CHAPTER 21

  Corliss slipped into Roanna’s bedroom. She was alone upstairs, because all the others had either gone to work or were downstairs at breakfast. She had been trying to eat, but with her pounding headache and upset stomach, it had been more of a pretense than anything else. She needed some coke, just a little of it to make her feel better, but all the money she’d gotten before was already gone.

  When Webb and Roanna had entered the breakfast room, she had made a point of getting up and leaving in dignified, offended silence, but they hadn’t cared, the bastards. She had stopped just outside the door and listened, waiting to hear what they said about her. They hadn’t mentioned her at all, as if she weren’t important enough for discussion. Webb had told her to leave Davencourt and poof! just like that she didn’t matter any more. Instead, Webb had announced that he and Roanna were getting married.

  Married! Corliss couldn’t believe it. The thought made her mind fog with rage. Why would anyone, especially someone like Webb, want to marry a mealymouth like Roanna? Corliss hated the bastard, but she didn’t underestimate him. Despite what he’d said, she could have handled Roanna, she was sure of it. She couldn’t handle Webb, though. He was too hard, too mean. He was going to throw her out of Davencourt. And that’s why she had to get rid of him.

  She couldn’t leave Davencourt. She felt sick with panic at the prospect. Nobody seemed to care that she needed to live here. She couldn’t go back to that dinky little house in Sheffield, back to being just a poor relation to the rich Davenports. She was somebody now, Miss Corliss Spence, of Davencourt. If Webb threw her out, she’d become a nobody again. She wouldn’t have any means of getting money for her expensive little habit. The thought was unbearable. She had to get rid of Webb.