Handful of Dreams (32 page)

“Tried to bite me, you old geezer!”

Good for Sam! Jud thought with a pang. The dog knew garbage when he saw it and fought to the end! He remembered he was supposed to be talking without becoming a target himself. “Why don’t you let go of that young lady? You hurt her and the law—”

“The law!” Bloggs sneered. “
I’ll
worry about the law. You want the girl released, you get me her boy!”

Jud didn’t see anything but a blur—a dark blur that ran from the shadows. The blur cut off Bloggs’s speech. Susan screamed. When Jud heard her fall forward, he flew out from his boulder, racing down to the sand. She was soaked; snowflakes were on her shoulders, melting in the rain. It was so damn dark! And the wind was howling.

But he saw her eyes. Green as emeralds in the night.

“David?” she whispered, and they turned around together. Susan ran toward something in the sand and picked it up. It was the sawed-off shotgun. But David hadn’t shot Bloggs; he hadn’t dared because he might have hit Susan.

“Oh, God!” Susan gasped, swirling around with Jud. They could see the two men, rolling in the sand, but they were nothing more than blurs again, movement, shadows in the night.

The wind picked up. It screamed with the roar of the surf.

“Give me it!” Jud told Susan. “I can hit a squirrel in the eye!”

Susan gave him the gun. They raced together to the shore, but even Jud was forced to stop, aim, and stop, and try to aim again.

David and Bloggs were involved in a deadly wrestling match, trading punches, falling, rolling again. They moved out into the water where crashing waves combined with the wind and rain to blur vision and make the men appear as one again and again.

“Do something!” Susan screamed to Jud. He shook his head.

“Can’t shoot! I can’t shoot!”

They were going farther and farther into the water. Oh, dear Lord, Susan thought in rising desperation and panic. If David survived Bloggs, he would freeze to death in the winter waters!

She raced toward the surf and let out a long horrible scream.

Both men had disappeared beneath the waves.

Cold. It was so cold. Harry Bloggs had gone down with the last blow, gone down deep, and now seemed to be gone. But David might have been gone himself; all he could see or sense or feel was the cold water. It seemed to beckon and whisper to him: Sleep, David, close your eyes and sleep. There’s no need to fight. Just close your eyes….

He saw his father. Peter’s secretive grin, his brilliant blue eyes, his cap of white hair.

Hi, Dad! Dad, it’s so damn good to see you now! I missed so much. I was so wrong, so out of line! Can you forgive me? Ah, Dad, why didn’t you set me straight? Why didn’t you give me a punch in the jaw? I would have deserved it
….

Swim, David. Move your arms! Kick, son—you can swim. Come on, son, reach out, reach out your hand….

David stretched out his hand and reached, again and again. Peter was in front of him, ready to help.

He touched the hand. It wasn’t Peter’s at all; it was slim and delicate but filled with a surprising strength. He opened his eyes, shot through the water, and was stung with salt and wind.

He saw her eyes, green, sparkling emeralds, filled with moisture, with tears. “David! David, come on…”

He shook himself. The cold was still with him; it was frigid, piercing, terrible. But it had ceased its whispering, and reality was all around him. She was helping him to stand in the shallows, bracing him as he stumbled to his feet against the sand and surf. He looked at her and smiled.

A second later Jud was there, supporting him. Together they lowered their heads against the wind and stumbled back to the house.

H
E’D BEEN IN THE
tub long enough to feel as if he’d thawed out when he heard the door open. With his eyes closed and his head rested against the edge, he smiled. It was a rueful smile, touched by pain and regret yet hinting of hope.

He didn’t open his eyes. She cleared her throat a little nervously. “Jud’s sitting on the sofa in the parlor with his shotgun across his lap. I got him to put on some of Peter’s socks, a pair of slippers, and a cashmere robe, but I can’t get him into a hot tub. He says that if you came out of the water, Bloggs just might too. He says he’ll watch for the first half of the night, then wake you.” She hesitated. David didn’t speak. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the tone of her voice, feeling it flow around him.

She cleared her throat again; he heard her take a step toward the tub. “David, Jud said he told you about your father. I—”

David lifted a hand to her. After a moment she took it, kneeling down beside the tub.

He stared at their hands, laced together. His fingers so brown, hers so pale and slender locked within them.

Then he looked into her eyes, “Can you ever forgive me?”

Susan lowered her head, quivering so inside that she was afraid to speak.

“Susan?” He touched her chin, raising it gently. His eyes were light and clear, as naked as a cloudless sky, filled with tender emotion.

She took his hand between both of hers, squeezed it tightly, then brought his palm to her lips and kissed it.

“I love you, David.”

He stroked her damp hair, gazing at her with that tender, rueful smile. “Can you really?” he asked softly. “After everything … can you really?”

She was still shaking. So badly that she was afraid to keep staring into his eyes, afraid to realize the love that was really there, deep and tangible and humble and strong.

“David, I—I didn’t help matters much. When I first met you, I was infuriated. If I’d been a better person, I would have stayed no matter what you said. I would have told you the truth—”

“You came to tell me that my father was dying—despite his wishes—didn’t you?”

She nodded. “I didn’t know if it would be right or wrong.”

“Oh, God!” David said with a groan.

“David, he loved you so very much. He was so proud of you and your relationship with each other. Can you understand? He didn’t want you to know because you never failed to treat him like an adult. He didn’t want you to start treating him like an old man, like a child. Oh, David…”

He stood, stepping dripping wet from the tub, then kneeled down beside her and took her cheeks gently between his hands, bringing her eyes to his once again. “I understand, Susan. It hurts, but I understand.” He smiled at her, seeing tears brimming in her eyes, determined not to let them fall. “What I don’t understand is why he never set me straight about you. Or why you let me believe you had been my father’s mistress.”

She managed to smile back through the haze of tears. “Pure nastiness—and you deserved every bit of it!”

“I definitely did,” David replied ruefully. “But why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”

“I couldn’t, David. First, I think I was in too much shock. And then … well, I did live in this house with your father. No one could really prove to you that I hadn’t been what you thought I was. Then, after I’d encouraged your beliefs at every point, how could I go back and try to convince you that I had been lying when it would look so expedient?”

He started to laugh, pulling her against his wet, naked body. “Oh, Susan! I was dying for you to come to me and tell me that! You little fool! I was in love with you. I would have believed you!”

She smiled wistfully, savoring the words, allowing her fingers to trail through the dark hair on his chest. Then she straightened, pushing him away. “You’re damned lucky you didn’t die of exposure! Get back into that tub—”

“Not alone!”

“David! Jud is in the house!”

“Oh, Jud would condone every movement! Besides, you’re soaked too.”

She couldn’t really protest; he was pulling her sweater over her head; his fingers felt like lightning trailing over her back, tugging at her bra strap.

She laughed a little breathlessly, wondering how a day that had brought such terror could produce such a magical night.

She was suddenly set on her feet, but he was not. He still knelt before her, his fingers moving in a tender, sensual caress over her breasts, then lowering to snap open the button on her jeans and pull the zipper. He tugged the jeans over her hips along with her panties; she stepped out of them and he tossed them aside, but still he remained there, stroking her flesh so lightly and reverently that she began to tremble. His fingers moved with that same tender and exotic appeal over her abdomen, and at last she dug her fingers into his hair, demanding that he look up at her.

He was smiling, bemused, tender. “We’re going to be parents.”

“I know.”

His grin widened devilishly, and he whispered huskily, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve used that line before!” she said breathlessly, teasing him.

“Yes, and it worked.”

“Too well! By the way, who gave me away?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“It had to have been Harley or Jud.”

“It was an anonymous phone call.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“It’s true! And I don’t think it was Harley or Jud.”

“My cousin!” Susan gasped. “Why, the little rat!”

“She wanted things to work out. She knew we were made for each other—even if we were being too stubborn to get around to that realization.”

His smile faded, but the love remained in his eyes. Then they closed, his arms wrapped around her, and he pressed his face to her naked belly, planting a gentle kiss there.

He looked up at her again, taking both her hands, bringing her back down to him, on her knees before him. “I honestly can’t understand why you’re willing to forgive me. I’m just so very grateful that you are. Susan, I love you. Will you marry me?”

She threw herself into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder. “Of course I’ll marry you. As long as you love me!”

His arms tightened around her. He drew back and kissed her, long and hard and passionately, and Susan felt the heat in her body soar, and the longing to be a part of him burned within her like a fierce blaze. Laughing slightly, she pulled away from him, unaware that her breasts were gleaming with the moisture from his body, deliriously oblivious to the effect her body had on his.

“David! You’ve got to get back into the tub or dry off and get dressed. One or the other.”

He arched a brow, then rose quickly, carrying her along with him to sink back into the steaming tub so that she was leaning with her back against him, his legs embracing hers. He could lock his arms around her and tenderly play with the weight of her breasts, rake the nipples with a negligence that just might belie his fever and ignite her to his level of desire….

The touch of his hands was casual; the proof of his desire was not—not the way she was sitting! Susan trembled, leaning back against him with total elation, smug, content, and feeling deliciously cherished and loved—and thrilled beyond reason at feeling his male passion pulsing against her flesh.

“Are you all right?” he asked, a hoarse whisper that teased her earlobe.

“Of course,” she murmured innocently. “You were the one in the ocean.”

His voice became tense and strained. “You were the one that Bloggs was holding. Susan, if—”

“I’m fine!” she interrupted, twisting slightly to assure him with her eyes and her smile.

He grinned back. “Want some soap?”

“Soap?”

He gave her that rakish, sensual devil’s grin that wouldn’t quit. And then she discovered why. A bar of soap he had been holding bobbed to the surface where he quickly retrieved it again and began very slowly to move it over her breasts, causing her breath to catch beneath and her heart to pound like thunder against his touch.

“After all,” he murmured, “we are in the bathtub.”

“After all…”

He moved the soap over her belly, slowly, lullingly. And then his hands moved again, bringing the slick bar along her thighs and between them until she gasped, trying to spin, encountering his heavy-lidded, smoldering eyes once again.

“David!”

When he laughed she snatched the soap from him, wriggling from her position to lather his chest. He pulled her close to him.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Absolutely.”

His arms wound tighter, and he stood, causing Susan to cry out in laughter and panic. “The soap! You’re going to slip! You’re—”

But he was already standing by the tub, bending to cut off her words with a kiss. She wove her fingers through his hair, never so enflamed by the passion and need. His kiss left her lips to fall against her throat, and he was walking, heedless that they were still wet. In his room he laid her on the bed, falling beside her to cover her with his body, with warmth, with new tremors of longing.

“Oh, David, I’m so very happy.”

His lips covered hers, then broke away, and he surveyed her eyes, tangling his fingers in her hair.

“It’s just like fire. The first time I touched it, it was fire and silk, and I think I knew even then that I was lost.”

She locked her fingers around his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers, taunting his lips with the tip of her tongue until he invaded her mouth with new hunger. His hands started caressing her breasts, feathering over her belly, stroking along her thighs and between them.

Her body writhed against his, her kisses fell to his shoulders, she nipped his neck, and then raked her fingers lightly, lovingly over his back. And then her nails dug suddenly because he was over her, thrusting into her, and she clung hard against him, whispering his name, gasping, loving that first shattering moment of having him a part of her.

“Love you…”

“So much. So, so much…”

And then she was gasping again, swamped with the erotic pleasure that rose and rose as his whispers became more graphic, telling her how he loved each of her movements, the feel of her, her breasts against his chest, her thighs wrapped so tightly around him, her hips, fluid … fantasy.

She’d never made love like this. One glittering pinnacle was not enough; she fell against him, exhausted, only to feel a desperate new fever begin to burn at his slow touch, his finger moving sensually along her spine, his whisper against her ear, his kisses falling suddenly upon her breasts, her hip, her lips….