Storm Over the Lake Page 6

  “Oh, my God,” he breathed, his big arms swallowing her, protecting her. “Oh, my God, Dana!” She felt the powerful muscles go taut as he pressed her softness against him. His face buried itself in the thick, silky hair like a taffy cloud at her throat, holding her…just holding her.

  “I felt so stupid, getting upset when all I had to do was write the story.” She moved restlessly in his arms. “But it hurt me. It hurt me! I’ve always been a little afraid of rivers and waterfalls, and I kept thinking how it must have been, all that water shooting down over the falls…”

  His arms tightened even more, until her body was so close that his heartbeat shook it. “It’s over,” he murmured quietly. “All over. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

  He rocked her gently, as if she were a child, and eased the fear and the trembling and the nightmarish memories. She felt her drawn muscles relaxing, felt the hardness of warm muscle and bone close against her in the drowsy silence that followed. She was aware of his warmth and strength, but even more aware of the sudden longing that flooded her yielding body. Only the thin slip of a nightgown separated flesh from flesh, and she could feel every hard line of his torso burning against hers. She was more aware than ever of his massive strength, of the raw power in that big body, of her own weakness.

  “I…I’m all right now,” she murmured, and gently pressed against that unyielding muscle.

  “I’m not.” He drew back a breath, and she could see the hard lines of his face, the strain in it, the tiny brown flames in his dark eyes. “I can feel every cell in your body through that gown, little girl,” he said quietly, “every soft inch of you. I want you, Dana.”

  She tensed defensively, her eyes widening with fear.

  “Don’t go cold on me,” he said, his big hand tracing shivery patterns along her throat, down to the neckline of her gown. “I’ll be exquisitely gentle with you, little cat. I’ll set you on fire and watch you burn in my arms…”

  She drew up like a scorched leaf, turning her face away from that sensuous look in his eyes. “Please let me go,” she pleaded tearfully. “I didn’t know I was expected to pay for a shoulder to cry on.”

  She felt him stiffen, felt the anger touch every muscle in his vibrant body. “Payment in kind?” he growled. “At least you wouldn’t have to buy me, Meredith, the way you had to buy that middle-aged…”

  “You’re middle-aged, too!” she threw back at him, and regretted it instantly, even before she saw the explosion that blackened his glittery eyes.

  “That,” he said, his voice deep and dangerously soft, “was the biggest mistake you’ve made tonight.” His hand tangled in her hair, jerking her face up to his, holding her head back against the merciless strength of his arm.

  She stared back at him defiantly, determined not to show the fear that was ripping her pulse to shreds. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said deliberately.

  “Why should you be?” he asked carelessly. “I wouldn’t be the first, and we both know it.”

  His eyes slid over her with an intimacy that made her blood surge in her veins. Like some magnificent dark illusion, he studied her, his dark hair rumpled, his eyes intense, his mouth almost smiling.

  “Are you going to fight me, Meredith?” he asked in a slow, gentle tone.

  Her lips trembled uncertainly, but she stood her ground. “To the last breath,” she assured him.

  His hand propelled her face up to his. His warm, chiseled lips parted hers with all a lover’s practiced skill, smothering her protests as he forced her down into the pillows, his hard chest pinning her under him while he taught her how intimate a kiss could be.

  With a sob, she fought him, panic making her wild as she struggled away from his deep, penetrating kiss and felt his bristly cheek rasp her swollen mouth.

  He drew back, scowling down at the shock and fear that had left her face white.

  “Meredith…” He murmured her name quietly, thoughtfully.

  She sobbed, the sound pitiful in the darkness, like a child being whipped.

  Abruptly, he let her go and stood up, his eyes puzzled, and anger mixed with it so that his face was frightening.

  “Have you ever thought of going on the stage?” he asked with icy sarcasm. “You play the innocent with a flair. But you needn’t bother, little cat. As you so accurately put it that night in the garden, it wouldn’t mean anything.” His eyes summed up her cowering body with a flick of indifference.

  “That…wasn’t how you sounded a minute ago,” she choked.

  One dark eyebrow went up. “Any woman can stir a man, Meredith.”

  She flushed darkly. “You needn’t think I…was trying to…to stir you!” she cried.

  He studied her through narrowed eyes, his face hard and impassive. “You’re a puzzle, little one,” he murmured quietly.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked through the tears. “Please, Mr. Devereaux, what do you want from me?”

  “What did Pluto want from Persephone?” he replied narrowly.

  She closed her eyes wearily. “Please go away,” she whispered. “Oh, please, go away.”

  “You prefer the nightmares to me, Meredith?” He moved to the door and paused to look at her. “Sometimes, little taffy cat, reality can be hell enough.”

  She heard the door close softly, and buried her face in the cool cotton pillow, weeping like a lost child.

  She did her chores in a daze the next morning, the combination of the nightmare and her argument with Adrian leaving her drained and hollow-eyed.

  “Won’t you at least have a piece of toast?” Lillian coaxed when the pale girl refused breakfast.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured with a smile, “I’m just not hungry. I’ll…”

  The sudden insistent jangle of the telephone cut her off. She answered it automatically in the hall, preparing herself mentally for any one of a hundred situations it might mean.

  “Dana, is that you?” came a familiar voice on the other end of the wire.

  “Jack!” She broke into a smile. “Jack, is it you? How are you?!”

  “I’m fine, honey, just fine. Dana…I’ve got some news for you.”

  It could only mean one thing, and she felt suddenly numb from her head down. “What is it?” she asked quickly.

  “It’s Katy,” he said gently. “They transferred her from the nursing home to the hospital about an hour ago. Massive cerebral hemorrhage. You’d better come on down, honey. I’m sorry I had to be the one to call, but I told the doc it would be better coming from me. You okay?”

  She felt her world collapsing around her. Massive hemorrhaging. That could mean…Her lips trembled on the words. “I’ll…I’ll get on the…uh…the next flight. Where is she?”

  “Sunnyside General. Dana, I’m sorry.”

  “So…so am I. Thank you for calling, Jack. I’ll be there…just as soon as I can, okay?”

  “Sure. Take care.”

  She nodded and laid the receiver back in the cradle. Her body shook with a hard sob. She sank into a chair by the telephone, just as the front door opened and Adrian came through it. It was odd for him to be home in the middle of the morning, but just the sight of him was enough to calm her.

  “I forgot the Amhurst file,” he said shortly. He shot a lightning glare at her tear-stained face. “Crying again? You’re a damned watering pot lately.”

  “Please, I have to…to go to Miami,” she said unsteadily. “Right away.”

  “Why?”

  “My mother’s in the hospital,” she choked, forcing her voice to be calm. “Stroke. A massive one. Please, I need to see about…about reservations and…”

  “Nice try, honey,” he said coolly, “but it’s a little trite. No, Persephone, you’re not going to Miami to see your lover just yet. I’ve got plans for you.”

  He turned away and started into his den. “It’s the truth!” she cried, her white face as chalk. “Oh, God, I’m not lying. You’ve got to believe me. I’m telling you the truth
!”

  “It would be a famous first,” he said carelessly, not even slowing down as he went through the door. “Coming from you, the truth would be worthy of a celebration.”

  “She may die!” she wept, the tears streaming down her face. “I have to go!”

  His dark eyes met hers, and she’d never seen them so cruel. “Then I’ll let you go to the funeral. Get to work, Meredith, I don’t pay you for cheap hysterics. You aren’t going to escape me that easily.”

  With a broken sob, she turned and ran into the library, locking the door after her. What could she do? Run away? She didn’t have the air fare, he hadn’t paid her, and her bank account was almost bare. She pushed the wild hair away from her eyes and studied the phone on the writing table. Jack. She could call Jack and have him call Adrian…A long shot, but worth a try, she had to go, she had to!

  She picked up the receiver with trembling hands and dialed the number direct, her nerves screaming as she waited for the call to be transferred to the newsroom, and then waited for Jack to answer. It seemed to take forever.

  An eternity later, Jack’s deep voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  “Jack…” her voice broke and she struggled to get it back. “Jack, I’ve got a…a problem and I need help. My…Mr. Devereaux won’t listen, he thinks I’m lying…oh my God, please…Jack, talk to him, please talk to him. I’ve got to go to Miami!!” A sob shook her slender body, ending on a gasp of pure anguish. “Please, please…!”

  “I’m here,” said a voice on the extension, deep and utterly quiet. “That you, Jack? What the hell’s going on?”

  She heard Jack explaining through a fog of emotion. Gently, she hung the phone up and sat down in the chair at the writing table with her face in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break.

  Minutes later she heard the doorknob rattle. “Dana, open the door.”

  She was spurred into motion by the authority in that deep, strange voice. She opened the door, but looked no higher than his white crisp collar.

  “I’ll…pay you…back for the call,” she managed brokenly.

  His big hands caught in her hair, pulling her face against him. His broad chest rose and fell in a hard, heavy sigh. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he whispered gruffly.

  The words shocked her. She’d never heard him apologize for anything, not ever. “I…I want to go home,” she choked.

  He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and tilted her face up to his so he could wipe away the tears.

  “Go upstairs and pack what you need for a few days,” he said gently. “I’ll call and make the reservations. Are you all right?”

  She barely registered the concern in his dark eyes, the tenderness in the big hand that was mopping up her face. “I’m fine.”

  “Like hell you are,” he replied. “Wash your face. It’ll help. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”

  She nodded.

  “Move, Persephone.”

  She went up the stairs with his handkerchief clutched in her nerveless fingers. Packing took only minutes. She hardly saw what she was doing, and it was only due to Lillian’s sudden appearance that any shoes, stockings or nightclothes were included. The older woman helped her gather everything together and then led her downstairs with a comforting arm around her thin shoulders.

  Adrian was standing at the front door, waiting for Frank, who was tucking a suitcase into the boot of the Lincoln. “Give me your case, I’ll have Frank load it,” he said without preamble, taking it from her cold hands.

  “Have a safe trip,” Lillian told her. “God bless.”

  Impulsively, Dana kissed her wrinkled cheek and turned to go out the door.

  The trip to the busy airport was a blur. Adrian was quiet, and Dana withdrew into the past, into memories of the way her life had been just years ago, before her father’s death had triggered so much tragedy.

  In her mind, she could see Katy Meredith in the old days, a sparkling dark-eyed jewel with a vitality, a love of life that burned like a candle in a chapel. Katy, laughing as she played hostess at political gatherings, chaired fund drive committees, played golf…

  She felt something warm and strong against the coldness of her fingers where they lay on the seat of the car. Her eyes glanced at them and saw Adrian’s big, dark hand swallow the coldness and warm it.

  “I…I’ll come back,” she said quietly. “I don’t know when…”

  “I’m going with you.”

  She met his dark, level gaze. “Why?”

  His fingers gripped hers closely. “Who else have you got, Meredith?” he asked.

  Tears welled in her eyes and a sob broke from her lips. She turned away, watching the blur of passing traffic.

  “Do you want me to hold you?” he asked in a strange, soft murmur.

  She glanced up at him, saw the tenderness in his eyes…“W…would you?” she whispered.

  His gray jacket came open against his white shirt as he reached for her, drawing her slender body against him, easing her cheek onto his warm, hard chest.

  His fingers tangled slowly, gently in her loosened hair. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, brushing her temple with his lips. “It’s going to be all right, my baby.”

  She closed her eyes and relaxed with a trembling sigh. He was warm and strong, and it was so good to lean on someone just this once, to have the security of someone else making decisions, leading the way. And in spite of all he’d said, and all he’d done, loving him was a way of life. Even through the fear and the pain and the grief, being in his arms was a balm worth any wounding.

  The flight seemed short. In no time Adrian had her off the plane and into a rented car. The first thing he did was check them into adjoining rooms at a hotel near the hospital. Dana had had to give up her small apartment when she went to Atlanta, so the hotel rooms were a necessity.

  She had time to change her dress and compose herself before they went to the hospital. She clung to his hand all the way up the four floors and all the way down the hall to her mother’s semi-private room. But she hesitated at the door, trembling all over.

  His fingers meshed with hers, palm to palm, strong and reassuring. “Face it,” he said quietly. “I won’t leave you.”

  Six

  Two beds were close together in the small room, but only one of them was occupied. A thin, wraith-like little body was outlined by the crisp white hospital sheets and the single yellow blanket. An I.V. was hooked into the blue veins of the hand, and there was an oxygen mask around the nose. The small oval face was like old parchment, the big eyes closed, the mouth purplish.

  “Oh, Mama,” Dana whispered, unaware that she’d even spoken.

  Adrian’s hand tightened. He went with her to the bedside. “How long has she been like this?” he asked.

  “Bedridden, you mean? For the past three years,” she said quietly. “I moved her to Miami because I knew a specialist here who was willing to work with her.”

  There was a long, static silence.

  “What kind of shape are you in financially, Meredith?” he asked.

  “That’s none of your…” she protested.

  “Oh, hell, yes it is,” he replied shortly, his eyes dark and unblinking as they met hers. “Tell me!”

  She turned her attention back to Katy Meredith, haunted by the sight of her. She reached down and touched the frail arm. Pride fought with fatigue, and fatigue won. “My father was killed in an accident, over three years ago—just before I…started to work for you. He was heavily in debt, although Mama and I didn’t know it at the time. He was her world, he was all the color and light in her life. When he died, she had the first of several strokes. They left her like this. It took everything, all the insurance money…everything, just to pay the debts and start paying on the hospital bills. Mama didn’t have any hospitalization insurance.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I used to hear it said that everyone has a price. I found out then what mine was. I agreed to that masquerade, to get that story on you becau
se there was nothing in the bank and I couldn’t bear even the thought of charity. That man in the restaurant with me…he was our attorney. The check I was giving him was one I’d received from the insurance company on a policy I didn’t even know Daddy had. It was a Godsend, that check. It made it possible to move Mama here. Afterwards, I was able to get a job with Charlie’s paper and take over the bills.”

  Adrian studied the frail little body on the bed. His face was like carved rock. “How do you manage the nursing home on your salary?”

  She shrugged. “Frugally,” she said with a wan smile.

  “Without government assistance, too, right, Persephone?” he asked curtly. “She’s not old enough to qualify, if looks are any indication.”

  “I made my own clothes, and kept a tight budget, and I lucked out on an apartment in a home with some very nice people.” She closed her eyes. “From a Mercedes to a city bus and a two-story town house to a one-room efficiency…it was a long way down, and if it hadn’t been for Dad’s insistence that I take journalism courses, I don’t know how we’d have survived.”

  “I don’t see how the hell you are surviving,” Adrian said in a cutting voice. “And she doesn’t need to be in a semi-private room. She damned well needs a round-the-clock nurse as well.”

  She glared at him. “Need has to adjust to ability,” she reminded him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked.

  “Would you have listened, Mr. Devereaux?” she ground out.

  He met her challenging look evenly. “My name is Adrian. Don’t ever put a mister in front of it again. Sit down. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Can I bring you a cup of coffee?”