Reluctant Consent (4 page)

Her
parents’ death had left her too sensitive and vulnerable.
 
She didn’t like this weepy stuff one
bit.

 
Andrew helped her out.
 
“What do you want me to do, Denise?”

Denise
swallowed.
 
“I don’t have much
time, Andrew.
 
I have to be married
within a month of their death or Option B goes into effect. And it can’t be
reversed.”
 
She fought for air.

“Will
you please marry me, Andrew? Just until I can find some way out of this mess?”

He
looked at her, his face solemn, and scooted his chair back from the table.

A
tremor shot through her.
 
She was
going to lose her brothers. She would never forgive herself.
 
“Please. Please Andrew!”

Andrew
had the urge to crow. He had Denise right where he wanted her.
 
Another part of him mourned like a
girl. He wanted Denise to accept his dominance because she loved him and knew
it was right, not because she
had
to.

Shit.
Who was he kidding?
 

If
a woman submitted, she did it because she had too, one way or the other.
 
Something pushed at her, whether it was
her nature, circumstances -- like in the ‘old’ days, desire, or brute force.

Andrew
pushed the scone in her direction.
 
“Eat, would you?”

She
shook her head.

 
“No appetite?”

She
nodded, self-conscious, not sure what to do with her hands.

“Ok.
 
Let’s stay cool.
 
Keep things easy for
a moment, ok?
I’m starved even if you’re not.”
 

She
looked too skinny and well that wasn’t really a surprise since she’d very
recently lost her parents.

 
He kept the conversation casual.
 
Three or four times he held a bite of
scone to her mouth and coaxed.
 
The
first time she’d been startled. The wheels turned and as her mouth opened,
forming the word ‘no,’ he carpe deim-ed a chunk of butter and chocolate into
her mouth.
 
After the first few
she’d complied easily.
 
Andrew
wasn’t an ass so he didn’t push the matter too often.

“I
want to help.”
 
He pulled in a huge
gulp of air.

“I
loved you, Denise.
 
I asked you to
marry me.”
 
His eyes roamed her
face.
 
“I still do love you and I’d
like to be able to help you…“

She
cut him off, relief spreading over her face.
 
“Then do! Just do!
 
I’ll find a way out of it.
 
Damn, you can probably find a way out of it.“

He
shook his head.
 
“No, Denise.
 
I am
not
going to marry you with the intention of getting a divorce the
minute you finagle a way around your parents’ wishes.”

Her
eyes widened, panic setting in.

“I
just told you- I love you.”
 
He waited
,
eyes steady on her face
.
 
She flushed, looked down.

“That’s
kind of you, Andrew.
 
I just mean I
feel badly forcing you…“

“You’re
not going to force me to do anything, Denise.”
 
He continued to watch her.
 
She struggled, visibly-tense.

“I
don’t know how I feel about you, Andrew.”

He
nodded.
 
“I understand.
 
You’re bringing this to me because you
feel you have no choice.”

“Exactly.”

“But
I do have a choice, Denise.”

She
looked at him, her eyes wide. He gave her points.
 
It took a great deal of spine to keep her slim body angled
resolutely in his direction.

“I
want to help you, Denise.
 
But if I
marry you it will be on my terms.”

 
She set her mug down and leaned back,
appeared to force
herself
to look at him.

“Explain,
please.”
 
Her voice shook a
little.
 
“What are your terms?”

“As
before.”
 
He let his words sit in
the quiet.
 
Her eyes dropped again
and her hands twisted in her lap.

“You
mean…?”

“Look
at me, Denise.”
 
He
kept his voice soft
,
warm
.
 
This was hard for her. He loved this
woman very much.
 

She
brought her eyes to his face.
 
Andrew sat forward, elbows on his thighs and his hands dangling.
 
His voice was quiet, calm.
 
“I will be the head of our house. I
will
love you
,
respect you
. I
will honor who you are, value your strengths and always listen to your
views.”
 

She
dragged in a breath and turned her face away. Andrew put out a hand and gently
brought her chin back to him. He caressed her cheek once with his knuckles
before taking his hand away and letting it rest on her leg.

She
shook, trembled under his hand.

“I
will expect your compliance.”

She
swallowed again and looked away.

“Denise.”

Good
girl.
 
She was able to bring her
eyes back to his.
 

“I
will insist on your compliance.”

He
held her gaze for a second more.
 
“Those are my terms.”

A
shudder wracked her body. Her mouth opened.

Laying
a finger on her lips, Andrew shook his head.
 
“No, Denise. Don’t say anything.
 
Go home.
 
Think
it over.
 
In the morning call my
office and give me your decision.
 
We’ll take it from there.”

***

An
hour later, sick to her stomach but alone in her own bathroom, Denise retched
into the bowl and when she could breathe enough, sobbed.
 
There was no point in thinking.
 
She had no choice.
 
None.
 
Her beautiful brothers were wild and uncivilized and bereft
and they did not deserve to be handed over to their Aunt and Uncle

She
sat bolt upright on the tile floor and moaned.
 
If she married Andrew she would save them from the dark
gloom of the Wicked Sisters only to induct them into the realm of a bizarre man
who liked to beat his wife.
 
Her body spasmed again.
 

She
forced herself off the floor and stripped her clothes off.
 
Numbness slid over her like cold
air.
 
She wrenched the taps for the
shower and stuck her hand under experimentally.
 
When it was finally hot enough she stood in the damp heat
until she was no longer shaking.

Grimly
determined, she walked to her mother’s room and rifled the medicine
cabinet.
 
She swallowed several
sleeping pills dry and crawled shivering into her bed, insisting her mind echo
nothing but emptiness.
 
She needed
to sleep.

In
the morning she drank an entire pot of coffee and then sought the privacy of
her room.
 
Just in case he demanded
she pay him some weird verbal homage over the phone.
 
She paced the room several times before picking up the
phone.

“We
didn’t talk about the boys.” Denise said.

There
was a soft release of air before he spoke.
 
“Good morning, Denise.
 
What do you want to discuss about the boys?”

She
swallowed, opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“Denise?”

“They’re…
well -” Swallowed again. “Andrew they’re good kids!”
 
Her words resounded in his silence, and bounced around in
her head. She sighed.

 
“Well, no. They aren’t good. But Andrew
-“

“They
are good, Denise.
 
Their behavior
is pretty rotten from my recollection.
 
But they are good kids.”

Denise
found her spine.
 
“I want you to
agree to leave them to me.
 
If we
do this.”

“I
assume you are referring to us marrying, Denise?”

Denise
held back a scream and clamped her back molars together so tightly her
orthodontist would have cringed.

“Yes.”
She snapped the words and waited for him to get all Mr. Discipline on her.

“I
can’t do that, Denise.”

“Please!”
She wailed the words out.
 
Really,
it would be perfectly legitimately to have called it begging.
 
“Please! I can’t do it otherwise!”

“Calm
down, sweetheart.
 
What are you
worried about?”

“I
don’t want them with my Aunt Lucinda and my Uncle Benson, but I’m supposed to
hand them over to you?”

“What
do you mean, ’Hand them over‘, Denise?”

“Oh
for Christ’s sake! You’re the Neanderthal who thinks he can spank his
wife!
 
I can just imagine your
plans for handling a 12 year old suspended from school because he set twelve
dozen white mice loose in the science lab.”

“Denise.”
His voice remained friendly. “I’ll raise them the way my father raised me.
 
I turned out ok, didn’t I?”

She
snorted.
 
“Well no, Andrew.
 
You’re a sicko.” She bit her lip. These
were her brothers.
 
She couldn’t
back away.

“You’re
worried I’ll physically discipline them?”

“And
bring them up to think that way too! They’re impressionable, Andrew.
 
And they adored you.
 
I don’t want my brothers turning out
like you.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I know that must sound horrible to
you.”
 
Her voice turned bitter.
“And I suppose you’ll want to whip me or something to get even.”

He
blew out a long breath, praying for patience.

“I
will never ‘whip you’ as you call it because you tell me honestly how you
feel.
 
I’ll expect you to be
respectful in your speech, but honesty is crucial to a relationship, Denise.”

There
was a very long moment of quiet.

“I
can’t promise I’ll never feel the need for physical discipline with the boys,
Denise. But I’d be really surprised if it was called for, and I can promise you
it won’t be over something like a school prank.”

“What
would it be for?”

“I
don’t know, Denise.
 
I know I’d
discuss it with you.
 
Hitting you
maybe, something unforgiveable or completely unacceptable in anyone.
 
My father never used physical
punishment once I hit puberty.
 
I
think what you’re really worried about is yourself.”

“No
it isn’t.” She snapped.

“I
can promise what occurs between the two of us will be our private business.”

She
felt a quake of relief and more tears in her eyes.
 
He’d been right.
 
He fucking knew her better than she knew herself.

“I’ll
be in touch.”
 
She said the words
very quietly.
 
“Thanks for your
time.”
 
And she closed the phone
with great care.

***

   
Later that day Andrew
opened the car door for her and guided Denise in with a hand on her elbow.
 
He stood while she settled into the seat
before he shut the door. She quivered.
 
A strong tremor momentarily shook through her, leaving her weak.
 
By the time Andrew opened the driver’s door
to slide in Denise’s eyes were safely scanning scenery she’d seen at least one
thousand times.
  
Probably more
like a million since she’d live in this house since birth.

 
Andrew was handsome.
 
Brutally handsome.
 
-He didn’t look like one of those soft
angelically beautiful men.
 
His
looks had never been the problem.
 
Probably
they’d led to the problem.
 
He was
so damn good looking she’d fooled
herself
about other
important things.