If Ever I Loved You (18 page)

"I don't have a husband."

Dr. Bowmer frowned. "Then can you tell me who you were
with just before you fell?"

"Fell?" For a minute she didn't know what he was talking
about, then it all came back. "Oh, you mean Peter. Well yes, I guess
you could say that Peter is my husband. His name is Peter Van Housen
but you must know that. I assume he brought you here."

She didn't feel like answering his stupid
questions
and wished he'd leave and let her sleep.

He seemed inordinately happy with her last answer and took
her wrist between his thumb and fingers. "That's a girl," he said
happily. "You'll be okay. You've got a sprained ankle and some nasty
bruises but I doubt that you have a concussion, although you'll
probably have a king-size headache for a day or two. You're a lucky
young woman, you know."

Gina grimaced. "Your definition of luck is obscene,
doctor," she groaned.

He chuckled. "You'll feel better tomorrow." He picked up a
hypodermic syringe from the bedside table and adjusted it. "I'll give
you an injection to dull the pain and help you sleep. Have Peter bring
you in to the hospital at Fort Bragg tomorrow and we'll take some
X-rays but I'm sure nothing's broken. You'll have to stay off that foot
for a while."

She felt the prick of the needle and a few minutes later
she was asleep.

When she woke again it was dark except for the light of
the lull moon that stole softly into the room through the glass wall.
She was sore all over but the pain seemed concentrated in her right
foot and her head. Her gaze wandered around and she recognized her
whereabouts as Peter's bedroom, but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten
there. Her memory was hazy after that first terrifying sensation of
falling.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the throbbing in
her head, but when she shifted to find a more comfortable position
needles of agony shot up her leg from the ankle to the knee and she
uttered a sharp cry that ended in a moan. A rustle from the other end
of the room alerted her to the fact that she was not alone, and it was
Peter's voice that spoke as he hurried toward the bed. "Gina, darling,
what's the matter?"

He loomed above her, a shadowy figure that she had trouble
focusing her eyes on until he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the
wide bed beside her. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then
pressed it against his cheek and held it there. "Are you in pain?" he
asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yes," she said. "My ankle… and my head."

He put his fingers on her forehead and stroked gently.
"The doctor bandaged your ankle, it should feel better tomorrow, but he
left some pills to make you more comfortable."

He reached over and flipped a switch that lit a dim
nightlight in the base of the crystal lamp which stood on the table by
the bed. It cast a soft glow that illuminated without hurting her eyes.
She was astonished to find that she was wearing a man's navy blue silk
pajama coat and nothing else.

She looked at Peter and was troubled by what she saw. He
looked almost as bad as she felt. His hair, usually so carefully
groomed, was tousled, his clothes were rumpled and his eyes were
red-rimmed and haunted. His skin was a pasty gray and he looked even
sicker than he had earlier in the day.

She reached out her hand and touched his lips with her
fingers. He kissed them and she moved upward to gently stroke the
purple circles under his eyes. He flinched, almost as though she had
struck him, and captured her hand in his as he muttered thickly, "Gina,
oh God, how can you be so sweet after what I did to you?"

Her brow wrinkled in thought as she tried to remember.
"Did to me?" she said. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her for a moment, then squeezed her hand and
laid it on her chest. "Never mind," he said as he picked up a small
prescription jar from the table. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He shook a couple of pills from the jar and poured ice
water from a covered pitcher into a glass and added a flexible straw.
"Here," he said and handed her the tablets. "Take these. No need to sit
up, just sip water through this."

He held the glass down and guided the straw to her mouth
while she swallowed the pills, then set it back on the tray with the
pitcher and turned off the night light leaving the room in darkness
once more.

He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Go
back to sleep, I'll be right here beside you."

He sat there holding her hand until she was no longer
aware of him.

The next time Gina woke it was daylight, a gray foggy
daylight but her watch, which had miraculously escaped the fall
unbroken, told her it was mid-morning. She moved cautiously and
discovered she could do so with reasonable ease, all except for her
right ankle. It had to be maneuvered carefully.

She rolled over and was startled to see Peter lying in the
bed beside her; his chest above the covering sheet was bare. He was on
his side facing her, his eyes closed and his body sprawled in a relaxed
position, his face peaceful in sleep. His blond hair spilled over his
brow and his long thick brown lashes lay against the dark hollows under
his eyes.

A warm tenderness swept through her. He looked so
different when he slept. There was no trace of the hard driving
businessman or the cynical lover who looked on seduction as a game.
This Peter was boyish, trusting, defenseless. He had chosen to spend
the night here with her knowing that by letting down his guard he was
putting himself at her mercy. If she should decide to extract revenge
for his behavior yesterday she could make life miserable for him.

She reached out and very softly cupped his cheek with her
hand. It was smooth against her palm and she remembered that he had
shaved late the day before. With her thumb she stroked the side of his
neck and his jaw as her fingertips caressed one closed eyelid.

It didn't stay closed long but opened to uncover sea-blue
eyes that looked directly into her deep violet ones. He didn't blink or
smile and his voice was husky as he said, "For seven years I've dreamed
of waking up to find you in bed beside me."

He moved closer and raised up so he could kiss her. His
lips on hers were warm and gentle as his arm slid under her neck,
careful not to jar her head. She returned his kiss and let her hands
wander over his nude shoulders. His muscles rippled under her touch and
she marveled that a man as slender as Peter could be so strong.

He lifted his head to look at her and she caught her
breath at the torment she saw on his face. "Gina," he said hoarsely,
then swallowed and started again. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry."

He buried his face in her shoulder and her arms slid
around him. She knew he was blaming himself for her fall and she
hurried to reassure him. "It wasn't your fault, Peter, it was an
accident."

He moved away from her and propped himself up with his
elbow. "Don't delude yourself, Gina," he said harshly. "If I hadn't
lost control and scared you half to death you wouldn't have run away
from me in such a panic and stumbled on that turn. When I heard you
scream and saw you lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs
I…"

He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, but his grim
features mirrored his silent battle not to give way to the emotions
that were tearing at him. Gina put her arms up and pulled him back down
to her, cradling his head between her soft white breasts. He was lying
fully against her now and she was relieved to feel the crisp silk of
his pajama bottoms. She wasn't sure she could have tempered her
reaction if he'd been totally unclothed!

She brushed the disheveled hair off his cheek. "Don't
blame yourself, sweetheart, I wasn't afraid of you. I—I think
I was afraid of myself."

His mouth caressed her breast and his hand stroked her
bare thigh. "You don't understand. I tricked you into coming up here.
My dizziness wasn't that bad, I didn't need help to get upstairs. I
wanted you to come with me and I didn't know how else to get you to do
it."

There was a smile in her voice as she said, "I know, or at
least I suspected as much, but I went with you anyway. I'm not as naive
as you give me credit for."

Peter looked up at her, then rolled away and sat up
cross-legged on the bed. "If that's true then why are you tormenting us
this way?" he asked tersely. "If you want me, then why won't you stay
with me? What do you hope to gain by holding out?"

Gina knew he was right, she was being inconsistent.
Telling herself she didn't want him to make love to her when her whole
body screamed for his possession.

She met his accusing gaze that stabbed through her with
the thrust of a blade. "You're oversimplifying it," she said, wondering
if she could make him understand. "I want more out of marriage than
just good sex. I want a husband who will love me, trust me, cherish me,
and in return I'll give him children and a lifetime of loving. I'll
never get any of those things from you, Peter. You're too suspicious
and willing to believe the worst of me. I could never trust you not to
walk out on me again, and nobody does that to me twice."

His eyes blazed with anger and he got off the bed and
stood facing her. "The best way to assure my fidelity," he said in a
voice like chipped ice, "is to never again give me as good a reason to
walk out as you did last time."

He picked up his clothes and stalked out of the room.

Later that day when Gina could sit up without her head
pounding Peter drove her to the hospital. They chatted politely about
nothing of consequence all the way to Fort Bragg and at the hospital,
after a series of X-rays, Gina was told that there was nothing broken
and that her ankle, although sore, would heal quickly if she stayed off
it as much as possible.

On the way back Gina insisted that she was perfectly
capable of taking care of herself at her apartment but Peter outvoted
her. They stopped in Mendocino only long enough to pack some clothes
for her and arrange for Peg Harvey to run the gallery for a few days,
then returned to Peter's home. Gina knew she should have insisted on
staying in Mendocino, but her head hurt, she couldn't put any weight on
her ankle, and besides it was impossible to argue with Peter; he
refused to listen.

As they drove down the scenic highway Gina sank back
wearily in the plush seat of the Jaguar and sighed. At least she
wouldn't have to contend with the rest of Peter's family. Hans, Bertha,
Lilly and the two children had left for San Francisco shortly after
Peter stormed out of the bedroom that morning. She was sorry she hadn't
had a chance to visit with Johnny and Sonja before they took off, but
Peter had been adamant about not letting any of them disturb her.

Only Lilly braved her brother's wrath and forced her way
into the bedroom to say good-bye. She sat by the side of the bed and
took Gina's hand as she said, "You gave us an awful scare, you know.
You and Peter had better settle your differences soon before one or
both of you are damaged beyond repair."

She leaned over and kissed Gina on the cheek. "Don't be
too hard on my little brother, honey. He's stubborn, spoiled and has a
temper like a buzz saw, but he loves you to distraction."

Gina squeezed the hand that held hers. "Oh Lilly, if only
that were true…"

"It is true, Gina, believe me. I'm older than you and
wiser than Peter, I can see what each of you is too proud to admit.
Stay with him, you won't be sorry. Besides, I like having you for a
sister-in-law."

Gina was nearly asleep when they arrived at the house, and
Peter carried her upstairs and told Mrs. Webster to put her to bed. She
slept until Mrs. Webster brought her dinner tray. Later Peter came in
to ask how she was feeling, select an assortment of clean clothes and
tell her that he would be sleeping in the room down the hall. He showed
her how to use the intercom system to call Mrs. Webster should she need
help during the night then bent to brush his lips across hers in a
hurried good night kiss and left.

It was only then that Gina realized how much she'd been
looking forward to sharing the oversized bed with him again. She
grimaced with disgust. She so badly wanted to believe as Lilly did that
he loved her but she knew she was only deluding herself. Peter had made
it plain, not once but several times, that the love he once felt for
her was dead and he had no intention of resurrecting it.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to turn off her feelings for
Peter that easily. She loved him, she'd always love him, she wasn't
sure she could live without him, but she knew she couldn't live with
him never knowing when he might fall in love with someone else and want
out. The sooner she got away from him the better.

The next morning after Mrs. Webster had brought her
breakfast and helped her dress, Peter carried her downstairs to the
library where she chose a current novel and stretched out on the couch
to read while he worked in his office. He joined her for lunch on the
deck and afterward settled her in the same lounge chair that they had
both shared two days before. He tucked her in with a cashmere lap robe
to protect her against the cool ocean breeze, gave her a brotherly peck
on the cheek and returned to his office.

He was the perfect nurse, cool, efficient and cheerful but
uninvolved on a personal level. Gina blinked back tears as she
remembered sharing this lounger with Peter, the sweetness of their
early caresses and later the fire of their shared passion. If only they
hadn't been interrupted. She had been past the point of resistance; she
would have given herself to him gladly and with love. At least then she
would have known exactly how he felt about her, one way or the other,
and could have planned her future accordingly.

That evening they had dinner in the dining room. Afterward Peter carried her back up to his bedroom and
again left her with a light goodnight kiss and walked down the hall to
another bed.