This Love Will Go On Page 4

  “Jade, don't,” she said in an anguished voice, clasping his upper arms.

  He tightened his hold on her waist. “Listen to me. I'll say this just once and then 1 won't say it again. Stay away from me. Because if you don't…” even in the shadowy night she could see the dark, primitive glitter in his eyes, “I might throw away the last scrap of integrity I have and take what you're so willing to give.

  Chapter 3

  It had been two weeks since Michele had packed her bags and left, two weeks of listening to the community buzz with gossip, two weeks of ignoring curious glances and fending off questions. She knew that Jade was saying nothing at all. She had the misfortune of walking into the little grocery store one afternoon and hearing Mrs. Denton say, “…silent as a tomb that man is, not saying a word against that wanton wife of his. He's left to raise that boy alone and it's a disgrace, I tell you, a disgrace. Of course, what could you expect from those girls…both of them growing up without parents and Julia with her ideas of independence…”

  “Hello, Mrs. Denton,” Raine said sweetly. The woman's face flushed and she muttered something about having to go.

  That was only one of many incidents. Alternately, Raine seethed and suffered. When Julia announced that she would have a birthday party for Raine as usual, Raine protested, but her protest fell on deaf ears. Julia's eyes burned with defiant pride. “We're not going to become hermits,” she said staunchly and marched out into the kitchen to begin writing out her list. Raine knew the subject was closed.

  Raine spent the next few days working feverishly on the paper, trying to block the coming event out of her mind. But on the night of the party, she dressed and came down the stairs with her head high. Julia's pride was infectious.

  Most of the people Julia invited came. Laughing, already in a party mood, a dozen couples crowded into Julia's little living room where the rug was thrown back and the punch bowl set up on a round table. There were a few friends from Raine's high school days, a salesman she'd gotten friendly with since working on the paper and a new couple who had moved into the community to escape the city. Raine smiled and greeted them, forcing herself to act natural for Julia's sake. After a while she forgot Michele, forgot Jade. She drank Julia's rum punch, laughed, talked with people and danced with Marc.

  But as the evening wore on, her laughter became strained and her mouth ached from smiling. Her facade was cracking. Dancing in Marc's arms, she let her eyes wander to the doorway. Jade stood there, his eyes fastened on her.

  Stunned, she stopped dancing. Her feet were no longer connected to her brain.

  “What's wrong, honey?”

  Marc turned. When Jade saw them break apart, he began to walk toward them with that lazy, controlled gait. Marc turned her slightly, cradling her possessively in his arms.

  Twin stars of glittering anger burned over her. Then Jade's lashes came down and his voice was so cool and contained that she wondered if she had imagined that fire. “I'm sorry I'm late. One of the steers jumped the fence. Happy birthday, Raine.” In the astounded silence, he leaned over and brushed her cheek with a brotherly kiss. She stared at him, trying to collect her scattered wits. Jade looked at Marc. “Enjoying yourself, Marc?”

  Marc stiffened. “As a matter of fact I am.”

  Julia came to their rescue. “Jade, how nice you could come. Have some punch.” Julia linked her arm in Jade’s and led him away. Marc turned her roughly into his body and pulled her close. In her ear, he muttered, “Why the hell did he have to come?”

  “Marc. He’s your brother. Have a little compassion.”

  Marc danced with her in silence for a moment and then said harshly, “Why should I show him compassion? He doesn’t have any for me. He doesn't want me to marry you, you know.”

  Ripples of shock went through her. Why? Why?

  Looking over Marc's shoulder at Jade smiling at Julia and lifting a delicate glass cup to his lips, she said in a carefully light tone, “He probably thinks one faithless Taylor woman in the family is enough.”

  Marc's arms tightened around her. “Everyone knows you're not like Michele.”

  Her laugh was short, mocking. “Do they?”

  She'd had two cups of punch and she was beginning to feel it. She felt lightheaded, reckless. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting her hair fall down her half-bare back to the top of Marc's hands. Aware at once of her surrender to the sensuous pleasure of dancing, Marc locked her in a possessive hold. What was he thinking? She didn't care. The music would keep her thoughts away. The music would enclose her in a bubble where nothing mattered. Marc's touch no longer mattered, the music no longer mattered, her life no longer mattered.

  As if someone called her name, she felt the command to return to reality. Her eyes flew open. From across the room, Jade's eyes bore into her. They moved over her face, down the swinging length of her hair. Clinically, coolly, they traveled up again, along the path of her slim, bare arms looped around his brother's neck. There, in the crowded room, with people milling about and Marc's warm, moist breath at her temple, from across the room Jade mouthed silently, “I want to talk to you.”

  She stared back, unable to believe he was saying those words to her. He frowned, commanding her to acknowledge his message. Woodenly, she nodded her head. The tension went out of his face and body and he turned back to Julia. He said something to the older woman. She nodded and he put his punch cup on the table and walked out of the room. He didn't look at Raine.

  She pushed against Marc's arms. “Let's take a break, shall we?”

  Marc leaned away to grin down into her face. He looked slightly dazed. “It is kinda stuffy in here, isn't it? Want to go outside?”

  “That isn't where I wanted to go,” she drawled.

  His tanned face reddened. “Oh, sorry. Did you drink too much punch?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You don't have to be bashful about things like that with me, Raine.” She wanted to laugh. It was his face that had turned a bright pink.

  “Would you let go of me?”

  His face even brighter, he dropped his hands. “Sorry, sweetheart. I'm being inconsiderate.” He looked into her face, his eyes adoring her. “It's just that I love you so much I hate to let you go.”

  She didn't love him-because he wasn't Jade. But she was fond of him. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He reached out, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, making her regret her moment of contrition. When he released her, he said in a loud voice, “Hey, everyone. I want you all to be the first to know. Raine and I are getting married.” There was the sound of clapping and words of congratulation. Irritation swept over her. He had no right to make that silly announcement. What was he thinking? She had to escape the curious eyes and words of congratulations. She had to go and see Jade and hear what he had to say to her. Her body screamed to be loosened from Marc's possessive hold.

  Palms on his shoulders, she pushed gently. He released her at once, grinning. “Save me a dance when you come back, my future bride?” His smile was endearingly pleading.

  She had no desire to embarrass him. “Of course,” she whispered.

  She detoured through the kitchen, but instead of turning left, she turned right, walked through the back porch and stepped out into the dark summer night.

  It had been a warm, rainy August day and the air was moist. From dark corners beside the house, crickets chirped, incessantly optimistic. What do they know?

  The moist dew made the grass slippery under her high-heeled sandals. She walked away from the house, the light cotton of her dress swirling around her legs.

  Instinctively, she headed for the arbor, a latticed shelter shaped like a wedding trellis that gleamed white in the dim light from the street lamp. The town itself was quiet with that special tranquility that only small towns seemed to have.

  He stood just outside the arbor. His tall, wiry form moved, and a thousand clamoring nerve ends came awake inside her. She stepped close
r, aching to lean against his body and loop her arms around his neck just as she had Marc's.

  “I ought to wring your sweet little neck.”

  Each word cut like a knife. Her head came up, her eyes glittered. She didn't have to ask what he meant. She knew. “What business is it of yours who I marry?”

  He reached out and gripped the opposite side of the arbor, wrapping lean fingers around it, as if holding the narrow lathe would keep him from strangling her. “You made it my business when you put my brother in your sights.”

  The night breeze moved her hair and caressed her cheek. It was a breeze as soft and sweet as a lover's touch…and it made her ache with loneliness. “I didn't know he was going to make that announcement. I haven’t said I’d marry him.”

  In the still, silent night, with the smell of roses in the air, his voice had a violent edge. “So are you just stringing the poor sap along?”

  “No. Don’t equate Marc’s and my relationship with yours. If you wanted Michele to stay, why didn't you tell her so?”

  “What I wanted wasn't important. It was what she wanted that mattered.”

  “You still love her.” Her voice seemed isolated in the warm summer air.

  “I’m no longer capable of loving any woman,” he said harshly.

  “Is that why you don't want Marc to marry me, because you've been hurt?”

  His hand whipped off the arbor and clamped on her shoulder. “I don't want you to marry Marc because I don't want him to go through what I'm going through.” His fingers were like steel, bruising her, but she braced herself and didn't try to move away. “If I do decide to marry Marc, I’ll never leave him.”

  “You'll leave,” he ground out harshly, his fingers doing the impossible, tightening even more, “there's nothing to hold you here. I'm amazed you haven’t left long ago.”

  .Her body spun out the sensation, gave her a glimpse of what it would be like to be held in Jade's arms one more time. The thought made her crazily reckless. “I’ll never leave here,” she whispered huskily. “I belong here just like you do.”

  “No woman belongs here. This is a man's country.” The suppressed violence echoed in the air.

  His disturbed cry only fueled her need to break through his prejudiced thinking. “But if a woman loves a man, she stays.”

  “And you love Marc enough to stay?”

  Unable to lie, equally unable to tell the truth, she hedged. “I haven't decided yet.”

  He met her hungry gaze with a. fierce light burning in his own eyes. In the next instant, he pulled her into his arms with a hard, masculine force that excited her. “You don't love Marc.” Tangling his work-roughened hands in the long silky strands of her hair, he held her half-away from him while his eyes probed her face with an intensity that she could see even in the dusky light. “You love me, don't you?”

  It was an accusation that cried for denial. She flung her head up and faced him squarely, pride and courage evident in the taunt line of her head and shoulders, her eyes lit with a liquid fire of their own. “How could I love you, Jade? You're bitter and hurt and you push me away whenever I come near you.”

  He murmured, “Not so very long ago you offered me consolation. Is the offer still open?”

  Denial sharp and acid rose in her throat. Yet she heard the soft word as it came out of her mouth. “Yes.”

  He stared at the creamy outline of her throat, the smooth perfection of her skin bared by the brief sundress, the defiant challenge in her eyes. His own body stiffened, and he groaned and clamped his arms around her in a velvet vise, dragging her close to him. “I don’t love you,” he said raggedly. “I can never love you.”

  His lips were like satin, smooth and faintly scented with Julia's rum punch and utterly wonderful. Unlike the night she had kissed him by the lake, this time he was the aggressor, and she reveled in the glorious wonder of being the object of his passion. He kissed her with an expertise that took her breath away. He commanded, retreated, enticed, controlled, demanded, and retreated again to induce a more fervent response from her. He played on her mouth like a master violinist and she was all fire and light for him, singing in the resonance he created. He lifted his mouth slightly. “Raine,” he breathed, the words warming her lips. “I've been thinking about doing this for days…and it's better, much better than I imagined it would be.” He took her mouth again in a hungry possession and she responded, letting his mouth and tongue intensify her own growing hunger.

  Abruptly, he pushed her away. “I swore I wouldn't touch you,” he said in a voice of loathing, whether for her or himself, she couldn't be sure. For both of them, perhaps.

  She felt an urgent need to be away from him, to hide. She stepped into the shadowed shelter of the arbor. From the safety of the dark arch, she whispered, “I'm not ashamed of what I feel for you. Not now.” She turned away and wrapped her hands around her middle, feeling the brush of a rose leaf, smelling the potent smell of the rose blossoms.

  A sound came from his throat, a low guttural moan that might have been ripped from his vocal chords. “Be quiet. Don't say any more.”

  Pride kept back the tears. “I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you or made you uncomfortable. There isn't anything you can say to me that I haven't said to myself a hundred times or more. I…” She lifted her chin. “I'll get over it.” Lies, all lies. She had loved him since she was sixteen without a single sign of encouragement from him. How could she possibly forget him now that she had tasted his velvet kiss?

  “Raine?” Marc’s voice. Unwelcome, intrusive. Through the leaves of the climbing rose vines, she could see him framed in the square of light from the door. “Raine, are you out there?”

  Startled, they both froze. Then Jade stepped behind her and folded his arms around her waist, pressing his body into his, making their two shadows one inside the leafy arbor, his urgent possession a silent command to be quiet.

  She entered into the conspiracy, letting her body merge with Jade's and holding her breath.

  “I guess she's not out here, either,” Marc's rueful voice said to whoever was behind him. There was a moment more of silence. The door closed with a soft swoosh and they were left there in the arbor with only the sound of their breathing, now suddenly ragged, and the sound of the crickets.

  Then she became aware of other things, the feel of Jade's tall lean body against her back, the comfortable cradle of his arms… and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

  She moved, wanting to be away from him before the wanton thoughts that had possessed her a moment ago flared up again.

  “Don't move,” he ordered roughly. “Just let me hold you.”

  The husky intensity in the words sent a white-hot fire racing through her. “Jade.” She whispered his name and the sound trembled into the night like a butterfly in first flight.

  He drew in a quick, tortured breath. “Don’t say my name like that.”

  “I’m sorry...”

  His hand wandered, tracing the supple line of her rib cage. “You should be sorry. You have a whole list of sins,” he murmured, “a sinfully sweet body, lips that are smiling instead of petulant, eyes that are honest and open, hair so long I could get lost in it…”

  “Jade, don't. Oh, please don't.” Her heart was tearing, ripping into little shreds.

  “Do you know how long it's been since I've tasted a woman's skin?” The husky question sent a ripple of shivers through her. He dropped his head to the side of her neck and lifted her hair to nibble. His warm lips against her skin increased the sensual ache to an intolerable level.

  “Jade, don't.”

  He laughed softly and brushed her hair with his lips. “Console me, Raine. Make me forget.” His hand moved up to explore her rib cage. The sensuous feel of his hands and the agony of wanting him to cup her breast completely made her cry out in desperation, “Jade, I…I didn't mean…”

  He touched her shoulder and with one quick move, he brushed her strap down over her arm. Her fears, her anxieties we
re swept away by the heat of her passion. Her skin was on fire, her body and mind whirling with excitement. He turned her in his arms and bent his head to the soft flesh just above the rounded curve. She was powerless to resist him. This was Jade holding her, caressing her, pressing his hot mouth against her skin. This was Jade making her blood sing in her veins. Fantasy and reality coalesced into a starburst of forbidden dreams. The unfamiliar charge of desire exploded from deep within her. “Jade, no…”

  Against her skin, he murmured, “Yes.” His mouth moved treacherously close to the dusky nipple. She had read about the delights of a man's mouth on a woman's breast, but until this moment, she had never felt the agonized pleasure of velvet lips on her own smooth roundness.

  Her mind echoed his words as if he had whispered them in the night breeze, I can never love you. “Let me go,” she whispered. “Jade, please let me go.”

  His hand cupped and supported her breast and his tongue came out and caressed the rosy tip.

  “Oh!” Her sharp exclamation brought a soft chuckle to his lips. His hands tightened at her back, steadying her to receive the deeper possession of his satin mouth. Driven by a longing that had her fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging to him for balance, she called on the one name she knew would break the spell. “Michele…”

  His tongue stopped its slow, erotic course and his head lifted, shadowing her anguished face. In night air heavy with the scent of roses, the sound of their quickened breathing rasped in counterpoint, his a deep dragging in of air, hers shorter gasps that shook her pale, bare flesh. Flesh that cried out at the loss of his touch. “You're still married…to Michele.”

  A sound…a low, heavy, agonized sound issued from his throat. He twisted away and walked out into the night. She was left in the arbor, alone with the crickets and the fragrance of roses and the shadows. Alone with the breeze that caressed her bare breast in a pale mutation of a lover's touch. She adjusted her clothing and followed in Jade’s footsteps toward the door.