Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (9 page)

And what of the other way? If she did go off and find a position somewhere, what would her life be like? Would it be better? Worse? After three days of almost constant headaches, she deliberately refused to even think about it for another day.

After her day of mentally avoiding the subject, Anne woke in the morning with the decision clear in her mind. She really wanted to stay - with this man, in his life. If he would give her the assurances she needed, she would stay, and she would do her absolute best to be as good a wife as possible, living without what she already knew she could not have without resentment.

Then she approached him. “Did you mean it?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I need your solemn word of honor. When we get to town we’ll get a regular certificate of marriage, and we will keep the vows absolutely as if we made them willingly at the time.”

“I will if you will.”

Anne bit her lip and took a deep breath, “I give you my word.”

“And I give you mine. Suppose this means I get everything except obey.”

She gasped, “You
noticed!
”

“Yeah, I noticed. If I can have to have and to hold, you can do anything else you damn well please. I don’t need to boss you around.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She felt self-conscious and nervous around him the rest of the day. He had more stamina and could do more all the time, but she knew his ribs were still giving him trouble. Although he had cut the strapping off himself days ago and refused to discuss the matter, discomfort showed in the way he stood and walked when it got bad. He still took a nap once or twice a day. He admitted no weakness, but Anne would often see the sudden onset of the drained, exhausted look. So that night when she started for the front bedroom, and heard, “Where are you going?” she looked at him with disbelief.

“To bed.”

“Wives sleep with their husbands.”

“But you can’t….”

“No, I can’t, but I can anticipate. Come on along.”

“I need to… fix my hair and things. I’ll be right there.” What she needed was time to adjust to the idea, and his eyes showed he knew it.

In the front bedroom she took down her hair and ran her fingers through it. The only comb in the house was in his - their - bedroom. She took off her clothes and put on his shirt that she was still using as a nightgown. It only hung halfway to her knees and was frightfully immodest. She suddenly remembered the morning he had made her take it off and looked at the bruises. Oh, Lord, what had she agreed to, what had she done? Straightening her shoulders, she headed slowly for the back bedroom.

The lamp beside the bed was turned low, and Cord was in the bed, covers only to his waist. The dim light gave a burnished glow to his skin, highlighting some curves of bone and muscle, shadowing others, and only emphasized the latent power of his body, drawn thin by the recent illness. One quick peek left her knees shaking, yet she was drawn across the room as if compelled by some outside force. He opened the covers, and after blowing out the lamp, she slipped under them. Immediately his hands were on the front of the shirt, unbuttoning.

She jerked away. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop that.”

“Taking the shirt off you.”

“Oh, no, you’re not. It’s not decent.”

“Fine, you take it off.”

She was close to tears already. “It’s not proper to sleep without a nightgown.”

“Shit.” He turned on his back staring at the ceiling in the darkness. “You take off that damned shirt and leave it off, or get the hell out of here and you can have your word right back.”

Tears spilled slowly across Anne’s cheeks. Rachel was certainly right about this monstrous business, and it hadn’t even really started yet. She took off the shirt.

What shocked her was his gentleness. He explored every bit of her, stroking lightly, his mouth occasionally nuzzling her shoulder. His touch made her aware of the hollows and curves, dips and swells of her own body as never before. Her skin came alive under his warm hands. Barely breathing herself, Anne finally realized he had fallen asleep, curved behind her, one hand cupping her breast and the other spread on her stomach.

She lay awake much longer, wondering how he could speak so roughly and touch so gently, wondering why Rachel had never mentioned that some of this was rather nice, and wondering what it would be like when he was better.

Within a few days Cord was almost crazed with frustration. Anne had been raised with so much modesty and propriety drummed into her she thought sleeping naked was a sin. She did her best to get that damn shirt on every morning as fast as she could so he couldn’t even feast his eyes on her. There was absolutely no way a woman such as this was going to cooperate enough to help him have the release he needed. The black fatigue that hit him like a hammer after only a relatively short time of arousal and his aching ribs and stomach combined to keep him from taking what would be available if he were healthy.

Worst of all, there was a wariness in Anne’s eyes that had never been there before. Her total lack of fear of him was one of the uniquely attractive things about her. She was not yet afraid, but there was something. Probably in another week when he was up to strength she would run to Grenerton, screaming all the way, and maybe, he thought cynically, it would be the best thing for both of them.

Anne knew he was angry with her. He had gone from short answers of only a few words to barely grunting in reply to questions or comments. He undoubtedly was disappointed in her. Having touched her so intimately he was probably just realizing her too tall body was also too slim and shapeless. Men liked soft, round women like Rachel. Well, it was just too bad. He was stuck with her.

Even if she had married the Chicago fiance, Cord decided, she would never have been a passionate woman. The man had obviously struck no sparks or she would have abandoned some of the prudish modesty. Probably genteel people like that coupled as neatly and properly as they did everything else.

However, knowing that fantasies of her eager and willing under him were only that - fantasies - did not make him want her less. The problem was to find a way to bury himself in the slim body without hurting her, disgusting her, or repelling her so thoroughly that once would be all he’d ever have. He spent a lot of time thinking over the stories he had heard from Frank back in his brother’s womanizing days.

Sleeping with him was going to be one of the best things about marriage, Anne decided. She liked the feel of the work roughened hands petting and exploring her, liked falling asleep curled in his arms and waking up against him. He did this as silently as he did everything else, and she found herself wistfully wishing he would kiss her or murmur a few soft words, even if he didn’t mean them. She reminded herself sternly of her pledge to be satisfied with what she could have.

She also liked the way his mouth traced patterns on her neck and shoulders and across her collarbones and having his hand cup a breast, thumb rubbing a nipple. However, when his head slipped to her breast and she felt his lips and tongue there, surprise caused her to stiffen and pull away. He didn’t do it again, and the memory of the second of intense pleasure caused her much regret, but she was not brave enough to say anything.

Cord was still taking a nap in the middle of the day, and Anne relaxed in his arms at night, expecting only the usual pleasurable caresses. Sometimes by the light of day, she looked at herself in the mirror and blushed thinking of the places and ways he touched her. She spent considerable time daydreaming about kisses and tender words, but now she lay on her side facing him in the darkness, eyes closed, a slight smile on her lips as his fingers circled gently on the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Astonishment did not break through the languor in time for her to react when he pushed a finger inside her, spreading the secret moisture that his touch always caused, and then pulled her against him, slipping her upper leg over his thigh and thrusting into her. She felt tearing pain, a dull bruising ache as her body opened. He pulled away slightly then plunged deeper.

Accepting in her mind what was happening, Anne was as motionless as a frightened small animal, waiting for the horror to begin, but even as he began to move in her, the initial pain receded. As her expectation of more pain lessened, so did her tense stillness, and when she began to relax, his hands guided her hips.

Anne tentatively relaxed completely just before Cord shuddered and she felt hot wetness deep inside, and then she was separate again. He had pulled right away from her, rolling onto his back, and his voice was very soft and low. “You all right?”

“Yes.” Of course she was all right. It
had
hurt, but she didn’t feel particularly torn apart. Goodness, she could stand this without any trouble at all.

He was facing her again now. “More?”

Asking her - he was
asking
her. Weren’t his animal appetites supposed to turn him into a ravening beast?

This time he slid easily into the depths of her that were already drenched with his seed, and there was only the shadow of the first pain. Anne lay quietly beside him until she was sure he was asleep, then gently pillowed her head on his shoulder and cupped her hand around his upper arm. Surely this much was her marital right.

Rachel’s description of this act had been accurate, she reflected, except for the position, which she supposed was a concession to his ribs. But where was the unbearable pain, where was the humiliation? It was inexpressibly intimate, and she didn’t mind a bit. Why did she want to laugh out loud with relief? If this was her marital burden it was certainly going to be easy to bear.

Cord woke first. Eyes shut, he could feel her against him, cheek against his shoulder, breasts pushing against his arm, one hand across his treacherous rib cage. At least she hadn’t thrown on clothes and run off into the night. God, he’d forgotten how good it felt, blood no longer boiling through his veins like hot acid but slipping along sweetly like warm honey, all the tense misery gone, replaced by an ease that reached to his bone marrow.

Would she realize now what she had done to herself and leave? Would he look into the wide gray eyes this morning and finally see fear? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers. As the world began to turn rose colored with the sunrise, he pulled carefully away from her, dressed, and went to start coffee.

Listening hard for any stirring in the bedroom, he heard her bare feet on the floor, then sounds of a sharply indrawn breath - maybe even a very soft wail - and cloth rustling.

He didn’t want to know but couldn’t help going to see. She was leaning over the bed in his shirt, hurriedly pulling off the bedclothes. The sight of the long bare legs and rounded bottom fully captured his attention.

Suddenly aware of his presence, Anne straightened quickly, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

The bloodstain on the exposed bed sheet made Cord forget everything else, including his worry about whether she was afraid. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were a goddamn virgin?”

Her embarrassment changed to indignation in a flash. She snapped at him, “Tell you? Why on earth would I tell you such a thing? You know I’ve never been married before.”

“What the hell has married got to do with it? You were engaged for years to that man in Chicago.”

Her voice started to rise. “The operative word there is ‘engaged.’ What kind of trash do you think I am?”

“I think you’re human is all. What was the matter with him?”

She tried haughtiness. “There was nothing wrong with him. He was a gentleman.”

“Gentleman my ass. He must have had ice water for blood.”

It never, of course, occurred to him to blame anyone except Richard for such an extraordinary state of affairs.

Her voice dropped, low and furious. “Well, it’s just too bad if you had your heart set on a used, well broken in wife, because you’re stuck with me.”

The unfairness of this made Cord growl right back, “I didn’t want a used wife. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have slammed into you like that is all.”

He turned and stomped back to the kitchen, starting to bang the coffee pot down on the stove and then placing it instead slowly and with care. Not only was there no fear in her eyes this morning, the disturbing wary look was gone.

Anne watched his disappearing back open mouthed. Slammed into her? For the first time it occurred to her that Rachel’s highly respected, much admired, and widely envied husband might just be severely lacking in some regards.

* * *

Chapter 10

SOMETIMES ANNE HAD TROUBLE BELIEVING
so much pain and misery had in the end brought her so much freedom. Cord really didn’t boss her around. He left what she did and when she did it entirely up to her. If she didn’t know how to do something, he showed her. If she made a mistake, he shrugged and helped her fix it.

So every morning she followed him to the barn, the two of them doing chores in half the time it took one alone. After breakfast, Anne did household tasks, amazed that he helped. He didn’t seem to divide the world into men’s work and women’s work. Of course, she realized, he was used to doing it all himself.