Summer Mahogany (7 page)

Ducking his ebony head to enter the galley area, he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of her. A folded blanket was in his hand. Gina's teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. It wasn't from cold. She was frightened by the shamelessness of her own behavior where Rhyder was concerned.

His features were half in shadow, the angular planes revealing nothing. She sought the clear blue of his eyes. They mirrored the image of a slender girlchild. Words tumbled from her tongue to dispel the image.

"I want you to make love to me, Rhyder." Her voice was thin, betraying the taut state of her nerves. "That's why, I came. No one has ever made me feel the way you do when you kiss me. And I remember what you said yesterday about being a man a-and not playing those innocent games of kissing and holding hands. It's true about you, I know—about being a man, I mean, and wanting more from a woman than just kisses. I want more than that, too. I—"

"Gina—" he began, his head moving to the side in a hopeless gesture.

"No, let me finish," she rushed in. "I know you'll be leaving sometime, probably before the summer is over. I might not ever see you again." She breathed in shakily, the blood roaring in her ears. "But I love you, Rhyder, and I want to belong to you completely, even if it is only for a little while. I swear I won't ask any more than that from you. I just want you to love me."

Her voice trailed off lamely as he walked slowly toward her. The shadowy light from the single lamp didn't illuminate his expression. She searched with pathetic eagerness for some indication of his answer. When he stopped in front of her, his mouth was curved in a tender smile, but it told her nothing.

His unreadable gaze never left her upturned face as he unfolded the blanket and drew it gently around her shoulders. Gina trembled at the touch of the soft woolen material against her naked skin. He crossed the ends securely in front of her, tucking it under her chin and holding it shut with one hand.

"Oh, Gina…" He murmured her name in a sigh that almost sounded sad.

Her chin quivered. "Please, Rhyder, don't send me away," she begged. "I couldn't stand it."

"Someday—" he tenderly brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek "—a nice young man will come along and you'll marry him in a big church wedding, walking down the aisle in a lace gown with your grandfather beside you. And you'll probably have a houseful of kids with green eyes and dark hair. That's when it will stop hurting and you'll look back on this moment and be glad that I told you to go home."

"No!" Gina protested with a sobbing cry.

"Go home, Gina," Rhyder insisted quietly. "Go home and wait until you're grown up. Save all that love for the right man when he comes along."

"I love you," she pleaded desperately.

"No." He shook his head. "I've only awakened the woman in you. Now you want to experiment, to discover what it's all about. You picked me because I was at the right place at the right time in your life, but I'm the wrong man."

The pain shattering through her body was too great to be borne. "You're nothing but a hypocrite!" she hurled at him through her tears. "How dare you preach at me! I hate you! Do you hear?" she screamed hoarsely. "I hate you!"

But her violently hurled rejection of Rhyder didn't hurt him as she had wanted it to, and she choked back the bitter anguish. His fingers released the blanket and she pivoted away, clutching the ends with one hand and grabbing for the door with the other. As she pulled it open, his hand gripped her shoulder to stop her.

"Gina, for God's sake, don't—"

She twisted away from his hand and dashed up the steps. Tears were streaming so rapidly from her eyes that she didn't even notice the rain. She was only aware of Rhyder mounting the steps behind her and she ran as if fleeing from the devil.

At some point in her headlong flight, Gina realized that he was no longer behind her, but she didn't slow her racing strides. She was too numbed with pain to feel the slippery sharpness of the gravel beneath her bare feet or the sharp whip of the wet blanket against her legs.

There seemed to be no air left in her lungs, but still she ran, pursued by shame and humiliation at the fool she had made of herself.

The light of her home gleamed ahead and she used the last of her strength to reach the door, flinging it open and stumbling inside. Heaving sobs shook her shoulders as she pushed the door closed. She leaned weakly against it, needing its solid support.

"Gina!" Her grandfather's astonished voice startled her. "What happened to you, child?"

Still gasping with uncontrolled sobs, she tried to focus her tear-blurred gaze on the spare figure standing near the entryway. Then she realized the blanket had slipped from one shoulder, exposing the bare curve of a breast.

Quickly she covered it, but it was too late. Fresh waves of humiliation swamped her as she remembered the wet pile of her clothes on the galley floor.

"Where have you been?" Nate Gaynes demanded in a steely voice that sent a shaft of fear through Gina. "Who were you with?"

She opened her mouth, but no words would come out, only more sobs. What must he be thinking of her, she thought wretchedly as she stared at the graying pallor in her grandfather's face.

"You were with that Rhyder feller, weren't you?" he said stiffly.

Gina nodded. Bowing her head, she cried harder. "I'm s-so ashamed," she sobbed.

He walked to her, a weathered hand reaching out, but Gina couldn't accept his offer of comfort. Not after the way she had shamed him by her actions.

With a broken cry of pain she ran past him to the stairs, racing up them to her room. She slammed the door behind her and threw herself across the quilted spread on her bed. She heard his footstep on the stairs, but someone pounded on the front door. Her grandfather hesitated before turning back to answer it.

The walls of the old house were hardly soundproof. Gina's heart stopped beating when she heard Rhyder's voice below. He had followed her!

"Did Gina come back here?" he demanded.

Her grandfather must have nodded his answer. "You're just the man I wanted to see," he said ominously.

"I've brought your granddaughter's shoes and clothes. I know how it must look to you, but l believe I can explain." Rhyder's tone was respectful, but he didn't sound intimidated by the situation or her grandfather.

There was a pause during which, Gina guessed, her grandfather was sizing up the stranger. In a slow, drawling voice, he said, "We'll go through to the kitchen and have our talk there."

Chapter Four

THE KITCHEN WAS directly below Gina's bedroom, and the floor register permitted her to hear what was being said. She was shivering again and threw off the wet blanket to slip beneath the covers of her bed.

Shutting her eyes tightly, she tried to block out the whole miserable scene, but she couldn't shut her ears to the voices below. More slow, hot tears squeezed through her wet lashes.

"I could do with a shot of whiskey," her grandfather said. "You?"

For a while there was only the drumming rain on the roof. Glasses clinked as they were set on the kitchen table, followed by the thud of a bottle, the one kept for "medicinal purposes" on the top shelf of the cupboard.

"I knew she was taken with you. I probably should have forbidden her to see you, but I was afraid of sweetenin' the excitement." There was a thread of weariness in her grandfather's sigh that made Gina feel all the more wretched, but there was no sign of it when he added sharply, "You knew she was only sixteen, didn't you?"

Rhyder swore softly. "She told me she was seventeen."

"Not until August," Nate Gaynes harrumphed. "But you believed her?"

"Your granddaughter is sixteen going on twenty," he declared grimly.

"That may be, but she's still a minor in the eyes of the law," her grandfather pointed out.

"So maybe you'd just better tell me what did happen tonight and how my granddaughter's clothes came to be in your possession while she was running through the streets stark naked except for a blanket flappin' in the wind."

Clearly and concisely Rhyder sketched the night's happenings, not dwelling long on Gina's impassioned plea for him to make love to her. Gina wished she could fall asleep and never wake up again.

When he had concluded his explanation, there was a long pause. The bottle thudded again on the table, no doubt after refilling the glasses.

"And you expect me to believe this was all her idea?" Nate's quiet voice was piercing. "It couldn't be that you suggested it and she got cold feet at the last minute and ran away?"

"I swear I didn't lay a hand on her." Rhyder's tone didn't vary in its pitch, conviction running firmly through his words.

Gina turned her face into the pillow, shame scorching through her veins. Her grandfather must despise her. He had trusted her and she had let him down.

"And I don't suppose you ever did anything to make Gina think that you might be wantin' to bed her?" came the quiet challenge.

This time Rhyder hesitated. "I might have, yes," he said finally.

"You
might
have?" Her grandfather demanded a more definite answer.

"All right, I did," he admitted grudgingly.

"A girl doesn't get that kind of an idea from a man who's only stolen a kiss or two," her grandfather stated.

"I…did step out of line a couple of times." Self-anger sharpened his reluctant response.

But it didn't ease Gina's humiliation to hear him concede that he was partially to blame for her behavior that night. She simply buried her head deeper in the pillow, trying to muffle their voices.

"I'm glad to hear you admit that," Nate Gaynes declared, faintly triumphant. "Now maybe we can get down to some serious talking."

The bottle thudded on the tabletop for the third time. Gina pulled the pillow over her head and began sobbing into the sheet-covered mattress. She couldn't bear to listen to them discussing her as if she were a child. It was the final humiliation. The tears couldn't begin to ease the agony of self-torture, but they flowed from a bottomless well.

Time was measureless. Seconds seemed minutes, minutes seemed hours. And Gina cried for an eternity. Several times she heard voices raised in anger from the kitchen below, but they only served to increase her torment.

Once she heard Rhyder angrily state, "Dammit, man! You're asking the impossible!" Her grandfather's reply was muffled.

And Gina possessed no curiosity to know specifically what they were discussing. She knew it concerned her. More than that she didn't want to know. At last her sobs were reduced to dry, hacking sounds. Emotional exhaustion carried her into sleep.

A knock on the door wakened her. Gina rolled over, fighting through the drugged stupor that made her feel leaden and lifeless. She blinked her heavy lids and became immediately conscious of her nakedness beneath the covers. A tortured moan of remembrance broke from her lips.

The sound prompted another knock at her door. Gina stared at the wooden door, wanting to order whoever was on the other side to go away, but no sound could get through the constricted muscles in her throat. She wished there was a lock on the door so no one could ever enter. She didn't want to see anybody ever again.

The door was opened without her permission and the gently smiling face of her grandfather greeted her from the hallway. Gina turned her head away as he walked into the room, carrying a tray. The covers wore up around her neck and she didn't move when he stopped beside the bed.

"Sit up, Gina," he told her with forced cheerfulness. "I'm treatin' you to breakfast in bed."

She couldn't sit up. She was too self-conscious of her unclothed state. Why hadn't she put some clothes on last night, she wondered bitterly. Then she wouldn't be embarrassing herself in this way.

"I don't want anything," she mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"There's some hot chocolate here, toast and jelly."

He was trying to tempt her again as if she were a child. Gina turned her face deeper into the pillow. "Please, I don't want anything," she repeated hoarsely.

Her grandfather set the tray on the stand beside her bed and turned to her huddled figure. He sat down on the edge of the bed, a weathered hand smoothing the tangle of black hair from her cheek.

"I know you feel badly, Gina." He tried to comfort her.

Her lashes curved into each other as she pressed them tightly closed. "I wish I could die," she whispered.

"That's a bit drastic, don't you think," he smiled.

"I don't care." Gina caught back a sob.

"Now you know you don't mean that," he insisted gently. "Everything will work out all right. You'll see."

"How can it? You must be so ashamed of me." She felt as small as a flea.

"Last night—" his gnarled hand rested on her hair "—when you went to him, you went because you loved him, didn't you?" her grandfather questioned.

"Y-yes." That's what she had thought. Now she hated him and she hated herself.

"Love, and things done in love, are not something to be ashamed of, child. I'm not condoning what you did, but I understand," he told her.