Chapter Eighteen #3
“I still want to marry you,” he said before she could draw another breath.
“I guess I backed off before because of a whole lot of reasons. Mostly, I think now, because I was so surprised at what you told me. After that, I guess I was confused— and then I wondered: I wasn’t sure I could be faithful to you, not knowing just exactly what your problem was…
That’s only natural, I guess. But it sure isn’t nice,” he went on, shaking his head, so that his flaxen hair shimmered in the firelight.
“Still, I’m only human, so that’s all I’ll ask you to forgive me for.
I had to think about it. And whether I could handle it.
Because I don’t believe married folks ought to cheat at anything with each other, or else it all becomes a lie, and I sure couldn’t ever tell you about things like that; so even if you agreed I could stray, it would still be cheating. ”
“And now,” she asked stiffly, “after talking with your doctor-friend, you’ve changed your mind?
Since you still dislike the idea of ‘straying,’ I suppose you’ve decided that perhaps it may not be quite as bad as I’ve said?
” She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or angry at that idea, but he gave her little chance to entertain it.
“Lord no!” he said in surprise. “It could be terrible. But whatever it is—it’s not likely anything that we can’t work out.
That’s the point. Hannah,” he said, not allowing her to escape his steady gaze now, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you.
Nobody does. Point is, it don’t matter. See, I never met anyone like you before, and I know I never will again.
You’re smart and beautiful and good. You make me laugh, and it feels wonderful when I can make you laugh.
If it wasn’t for whatever it is. I’d never have had a chance to even know you. So I’m grateful for that, at least.”
Her eyes widened. “You’d marry a woman you’re not sure you can—make love with?” she asked in a rush.
“Well,” he said, sitting back, stretching out his legs, watching her, loving the way the firelight made her eyes glow, as if with sudden fox fire in their brown depths. “Way I figure it, most men I know don’t know—if they marry a good woman, that is. I just have a jump on them,” he said.
He was impressed by the way her breast rose and fell with her emotion. “Don’t try to make light of it!” she cried, “You may never be able to…to…you know,” she faltered, becoming both alarmed and delighted by the warm look in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, “I do. But you don’t. That’s part of the answer, too.
Ah,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets and staring at his boot tips now, momentarily disconcerted, “but see, there’s all kinds of ways to get around that,” he said.
“There’s more than a dozen ways to skin a cat and believe me, there’s more than that when it comes to making love…
“Anyhow, if it has to be,” he said, glancing up, his face flushed by firelight and something else he hadn’t felt since he was a boy, “trust me, ma’am, I’ll think of something.
And it’ll likely please you, too, of course,” he said quickly, seeing her expression, “or else we won’t do it, honest. You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you, darling? ” he asked with tender amusement.
“I know you’re talking Western,” she said in agitation. “That’s like Kyle starting to pace. It makes me nervous. Answer me straightly—don’t you want a normal wife?”
“Well, just supposing I had a way of knowing that before I married her,” he said reasonably.
“What if something happened after we were married, so she wasn’t anymore—do you think I’d throw her out?
You take me for an Eastern potentate? I’d stick with her, and I’d hope she’ stick with me if it was me that had the problem.
That’s what it’s all supposed to be about, isn’t it? Otherwise, why bother getting married?”
“What about children?” she asked breathlessly. “Oh Gray, you’d have such beautiful children!”
“Well, not by myself,” he said, “and maybe not even with a wife. That’s one thing no one can predict.
Since we’re talking so straight. I’ll tell you I haven’t had any before, that I know of.
And you know I’m not up for sainthood. So how can I tell if I ever would?
Besides, look around, there’s maybe just about a half a million kids without parents right here in this city of a million, or didn’t you take a good look around Peggy’s neighborhood?
Royal’s already making noises about importing a slew of them.
“Hannah,” he said seriously, sitting upright. “It’s you I want.”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he asked, “Is it because you don’t want to give up your career now that you’ve decided to be an actress?
That might be a problem, I mean, if you become as famous as your father.
All I can say is that we could figure something out about that, too.
If it’s that important to you, maybe I’d stay here with you when you were in a play, and you’d come home with me when you weren’t…
I don’t know. We’d work it out. If you loved me.
You’ve never said so,” he said, touching her for the first time, picking up her hand, “but I thought you did.”
“Oh Lord, Gray,” she said, and came into his arms.
“Even starting to talk like me,” he whispered into the pouf of hair she’d drawn up on top of her head as she burrowed into his chest. “Start to look like me in no time, poor girl—now that’s something to give you pause.
But only that,” he said. Then kissing the top of her ear, he asked, “Will you answer me?”
But she only raised her head to look into his eyes, and saw them gazing at her lips, and offered them to him.
He kissed her for a very long time, breaking off only to taste her neck, or her cheek, or her ear, before he came back to her lips again.
Her mouth was warm and open beneath his, and if the touch of his tongue made her stiffen at first, it wasn’t long before she was tentatively offering hers to him, as well.
And if the feel of her in his arms was everything he wanted, the shape he felt beneath his searching hands soon showed what else it was that he wanted.
There were a dozen mind-boggling, tiny, slippery pearl buttons at the back of her gown, and yet it wasn’t long before he’d conquered them.
The sight of her bared breasts as they rose above the tightly laced bosom bodice that she wore made his breath catch in his throat, as hers did when he lowered his lips to them, at last.
There were eighteen narrow laces at the back of her bosom bodice to patiently undo; he knew because he silently counted them so that he wouldn’t be tempted to force them apart, and frighten her.
When the casing that had held her so fast finally fell apart, he found his hands could do as good a job and better for her, because she never whimpered with shocked delight when it upheld her before.
John had taught her how good a man’s hands and lips could feel.
But John was a memory. He’d made her squirm with frustrated pleasure before they’d been married.
But only then, because after that everything had been tempered by apprehension and fear.
As began to happen now. Because now she gazed down to see Gray’s big, sure hands and what they held so reverently, and her fears banished her pleasure.
The white of her skin against the tan of his hands was as shocking as the sight of what was happening.
She was only glad that though her shamefully bared nipples were puckered tight, he’d never know it was because of fear and cold now, and not delight.
And so when his warm mouth finally left them, she had to remind herself to deliberately open her lips again to receive his kiss, because this was all for him now, and all of it deliberately so.
Because though she’d never said it, so as to embarrass or shame him with the memory of it later, she loved him very much.
And so had decided, somewhere between the moment she’d seen him at the theater and the moment his lips had met hers tonight, that she’d give herself to him now, if she could, before she lost the courage to.
So that he’d never have to make the sacrifice he’d offered.
She’d bear the shame of his shock if her condition was, indeed, something terrible.
She’d bear his triumph if it was not. But she’d never let him throw himself away blindly, because she’d never stay and wait to watch his love turn to resentment, or hate.
Although her shame was the thing she’d feared the most all these years, now she knew, as she let him lower her to the couch and draw off her gown, that it would be nothing at all; nothing compared to his hate.
She shifted so as to help him. There were a great many garments to help him remove from her.
Yet it seemed that somewhere along the way, he’d also wriggled out of his own jacket; sometime when she’d not noticed, he’d opened wide the high stiff collar of his white shirt.
She noted the tense muscles in the strong neck, and though her hands were trembling with the desire to stroke that bare flesh, she put them on his shoulders, and waited.
That was what John had always wanted her to do.
His hands trailed along her ribs, reached her waist, traced and cupped her hips and buttocks, and paused. She was entirely bared to him now, and dared not look where he did, but only at his hair. Inconsequentially, she noted how his part was crooked, toward the back, as she awaited his next move.
He suddenly raised himself on his elbows, and only gazed down at her.
“They were wrong,” he said gruffly. “There is something very different about your body—you’re perfect,” he said. “Absolutely perfect. Ah,” he groaned, and wrenching his gaze from her, levered himself up and pulled her up from the couch and back into his arms.