The Widow and the Wastrel (17 page)

"I remember telling you to leave. Why didn't you?"

Her love for him made that question difficult to answer honestly, so she settled for a half-truth. "It wouldn't have been fair to let Freda and Kurt shoulder the entire responsibility of caring for you. They had their own work to do."

"So a sense of duty compelled you to stay. Very commendable," he murmured dryly.

"I was worried about you!" Elizabeth declared in despairing anger.

"I'm touched," Jed mocked, reaching for the pitcher of water on the bedside table and nearly knocking it over when he tried to turn it around to grasp the handle.

"Let me do that," she sighed, taking the pitcher from him and filling the glass with water. Automatically she sat on the edge of the bed, cupping the back of his head with her hand and raising the glass to his mouth. She didn't consider he no longer needed her help. "The next time you get one of these attacks," she flashed, still smarting from his amused sarcasm that jeered her nursing efforts, "remind me to hire some thick-skinned nurse to take care of you. This is the last time I'll sit up half the night and be rewarded with abuse and ingratitude from you!"

The glass was jerked from his lips the instant he indicated he was satisfied. Before she could rise angrily to her feet, his arm circled her waist to keep her at his side.

"I'm sorry." His tawny eyes were sparkling over the mutinous set of her mouth. "I didn't say thank you, did I?"

"No, you didn't," she retorted, her stomach churning in reaction to his touch. Her hands were unable to remove his pinning arm.

"There you go again, becoming all haughty and disdainful, just like you did the first day I came back." The grooves around his mouth deepened mockingly. "I often wondered whether you were more afraid I would steal the family valuables or you."

"You looked like a tramp. How was I supposed to react?" Elizabeth challenged coolly.

"You were all cool and sophisticated then, too," Jed continued with thoughtful amusement. "Snapping out orders and warnings with all the arrogant pride of a true Carrel. The beautiful, fragile creature with the green eyes seemed to have disappeared, the one I remember as being intimidated by the Carrel name and frightened that she might not be good enough for the favorite son. That's probably why I kept scratching the surface to see if any traces remained of the girl I remembered. Your veneer of sophistication is very thin, Liza."

"Jed," she gulped out her protest as he drew her down to the pillow, "you've been ill."

His face was only tantalizing inches from hers. "I don't feel ill." He smiled at the shaky breath she drew. "Perhaps in view of my weakened condition you should humor me."

His hand traced the outline of her face, his thumb lightly brushing her lips before his hand settled on the curve of her neck. At the moment, Elizabeth was certain that she was the one in the weakened condition.

Her resistance, what little there was, was melting as swiftly as the wax beneath a candlewick.

"I know a man isn't supposed to ask, but do you object if I kiss you?" Jed moved his head closer to hers, hesitating a breath away from her lips.

"No." It was almost a moan.

"You've objected all the other times," he murmured against her mouth. "This time I wanted you to want it as much as I do."

Still he teased with feathery light kisses until her lips throbbed with the need for his possession. She wound her arms around his neck, trying to draw him down to her, but he held himself away easily.

"I don't understand you," Elizabeth whispered achingly.

His beard scraped her cheek, then her throat, as he nuzzled the sensitive area of her neck, sending shivers of tortuous bliss down her spine. He slid his hand into her robe, letting it caress her waist and hips through the thin material of her nightgown.

"Please, Jed," she begged shamelessly. "Don't torment me this way." Her eyes filled with longing.

"I wonder if you know the meaning of the word," he muttered, nipping sharply at her ear lobe and drawing a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure.

But her plea succeeded as his head raised, his darkening hazel-gold eyes focusing on her trembling lips. The seconds stretched together again while he deliberately waited. The moan that escaped her lips when he finally claimed them was involuntary, an unwilling admission of the completeness of her surrender. The kiss was thorough and complete, his sensual technique without fault. The wildfire raging through her blood made any other man's touch seem like a tiny match flame by comparison.

Yet her hunger for his embrace was insatiable. She arched toward him when he pulled away. He stayed just tantalizing out of her reach, teasing her relentlessly. His heart was thudding as madly as hers. She could feel it beneath the palm of her hand resting against his chest.

"Were you worried about me?" he demanded huskily.

"You know I was," she whispered.

"Why?" He pushed her back against the pillow, pinning her there with the weight of his body. "Why should you care?"

"Because," lamely evading his question.

"Why?" Jed persisted gruffly, aware of the way his touch was destroying her inhibitions. When she didn't answer, his fingers dug into her shoulder bone. "Say it!" he snapped.

Gazing into his eyes, Elizabeth saw that the flecks were not malleable gold. Only the color was there to conceal his iron control, metallic and unyielding. Her viridescent eyes glistened with the tears she knew she would eventually shed.

"Because," her voice quivered uncontrollably, "I love you, Jed. I love you."

There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes before his mouth obliterated all conscious thought with a hungry passion. Before she had only felt his virile surface warmth. Now she was consumed by the fiery urgency of his kiss. Not even when she had guessed how deeply Jed affected her had she ever dreamed that she would know this exploding joy.

Chapter Nine

"WOULD it be an understatement to say that you've recovered, Jed?"

The sarcastically contemptuous voice was the hiss of the serpent in the garden. The spitting tongue brought an abrupt end to the kiss that had been progressively leading to more than a passionate embrace. Elizabeth struggled red-faced to her feet, quickly knotting the sash of her robe, while Jed rolled on to his back, barely perturbed by the interruption.

"You have a lousy sense of timing, Mothers," he murmured dryly.

The smoldering outrage was evident in the disdainful set of Rebecca Carrel's features, but her control was as strong as her son's. She flicked a cutting glance at Elizabeth, showing disgust for her abandoned behavior.

"That is a matter of opinion, Jed," his mother responded coldly. "You appear quite healthy to me, I don't see that you'll require Elizabeth's presence any longer. We can put an end to this nursing nonsense."

"She was about to fix my breakfast," he said with a crooked, humorous smile.

"She is not a servant!" Rebecca snapped. "Have that farm girl get your meal."

Elizabeth stiffened resentfully. "Freda is busy. If you'll excuse me, I'll get the breakfast." The nervous smoothing of her mussed black curls stopped as she moved past her mother-in-law to the door.

"While you're gone you'd better check on your child," was the waspish response. "When I came in, she was playing with those dirty puppies, letting them paw and climb all over her. She looked as filthy as a beggar child!"

"A little dirt won't harm her," Elizabeth retorted.

"Perhaps you have forgotten she has a piano lesson this morning. It may have also slipped your mind that she missed the last one for"—there was a deliberate pause in the condescending reminder—unexplained reasons."

"The reasons were personal." The tilt of Elizabeth's chin dared Rebecca to inquire further. "And I will decide if it's essential that she keep this one."

"I don't know, what possible excuse you can offer Mrs. Banks. Not now that Jed has recovered."

"Since I'm paying for the lessons, I wasn't aware that I needed an excuse!" Elizabeth was shaking with uncontrollable anger as she stepped into the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

She took her time in the shower and dressed with equal slowness. She couldn't recall a time that she had talked back to her mother-in-law, and certainly never so rudely. The only twinge of remorse she felt was for losing her temper, not for the things she had said. She didn't venture out of her room until she heard Rebecca's car start up in the drive.

Freda had left a note on the kitchen table telling Elizabeth that she was out in the garden. Amy was in the porch swing, crooning to a sleeping puppy in her lap. Doubting that Jed's stomach could take a sudden jolt of solid food, Elizabeth prepared a bowl of hot cereal, toast and cocoa and carried it into his room on a tray.

Setting the tray across his lap, she walked silently to the window. It seemed incredible that a short time ago she had been in his arms, pledging her love with each breath she drew. Jed had barely glanced at her when she entered the room, remote again, withdrawn into that aloofness she had never been able to penetrate.

"You're very quiet all of a sudden," he commented.

"There's nothing left for me to say," Elizabeth shrugged, letting the curtain fall and turning toward him, her look unconsciously reminding him that it was his turn.

"You should have time to pack your things before Amy's lesson. Freda can drive you to the house or take you on into town if you'd rather." He was sipping his cocoa with crushing unconcern.

"Is that what you want? For me to leave?" she asked in a choked voice that was both stiff and proud.

He held her gaze for a long moment. "It isn't what I want, but it's what I'm willing to settle for," he replied evenly.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth stared at the fingers twisting and untwisting in front of her, surprised to discover that they belonged to her.

"I thought I'd made that plain." He tilted his head curiously to one side, studying her intently. "I want you."

Not "I love you" or "I want to marry you," but simply "I want you," as if she were a possession that he had coveted for a long time and intended to own.

"I'll start packing now." Dispiritedly she turned away, her eyes downcast to conceal the gathering tears.

"Liza? What's the matter?" Jed demanded as she started towards the door. "Liza!" he called to her again, angrily this time when she continued to ignore him. "Dammit! Answer me!"

She hesitated in the doorway. "I'm tired, Jed." It was true. She felt emotionally drained.

The tears slipping from her lashes were a defense mechanism against the tension that had been building since last night. She didn't actually cry, but it took her a long time to pack her and Amy's things. The steady stream of tears kept blurring her vision.

Later Freda apologized for not warning Elizabeth of Rebecca's arrival, but Elizabeth dismissed it. "There was no harm done. She didn't interrupt anything." At least, nothing that didn't need to be interrupted, but she found she couldn't confide that to Freda.

Her fragile composure wouldn't survive another visit to Jed's room, so she left it to Freda to let him know that she had actually gone. Only a few grumbles were sounded from Amy's quarters, not any more than she usually offered on the days of her piano lesson. Elizabeth chose not have Freda take her own car. Too much time in her friend's company would loosen her tongue, and until she had time to think things through on her own, that was something she didn't want.

The instant they returned from Amy's lesson and stepped into the entrance hall, Elizabeth recognized the cause for the cloud of dread that had been following her. Rebecca was waiting for her, looking every inch the sophisticated matron of society with her perfectly coiffed silver hair and dusty-rose dress. This morning's incident was not going to escape without comment.

"There are cookies and milk in the kitchen for you, Amy. You may practise after you have eaten," Rebecca smiled amiably at her granddaughter. Elizabeth started to counter her orders out of sheer stubbornness until she met the coal-hard chips of her mother-in-law's eyes. The confrontation was to occur now, she realized. It was better that it did not begin in front of Amy. "I've put the coffee service in Franklin's study so we won't disturb Amy," the older woman informed her when Amy had left them.

The sarcastic brittleness of this morning was absent from Rebecca's voice, but Elizabeth wasn't deceived by the pleasant tone. Tight-lipped, she walked to the closed study door. Postponing this moment would be futile. Silently she endured her mother-in-law's quiet courtesy, accepting the cup of coffee that was handed her, aware all the while that the stage had been set by Rebecca for this meeting. The calmness of her voice, the coffee, and the privacy of the study was calculated to inspire trust and confidence.

A tray of ladyfingers was offered to Elizabeth, but she waved it aside, setting the untouched cup of coffee onto the tray. "Please, Rebecca," she said evenly, "let's dispense with the niceties. Say whatever it is that you brought me in here to say."

Rebecca set her own cup down, folding her hands primly in her lap and falsely hesitating for an instant. Her head was tipped downward as if to study the clear polish on her nails.