Page 47 of Sweet Savage Love
47
“I must say that I no longer feel quite as uneasy as I did about leaving you here alone to face that husband of yours,” Paco Davis commented later that day. Already dressed for travelling again, he sat across from Ginny at the small table she’d ordered brought into the patio so that they could eat outdoors and enjoy the coolness of approaching evening.
“I told you that I was quite capable of taking care of myself!” Ginny retorted tartly. “But I do have my doubts about you—travelling all the way to Vera Cruz with that gypsy bitch on your hands. Better watch that she doesn’t stick a knife in you while you’re asleep!”
Paco paused to stare at Ginny reproachfully, his tortilla halfway to his mouth. “Do you have to hurt my feelings, nina? I would have preferred your company, quite frankly, but alas, since you’re married to a friend of mine I think I got quite a good bargain—all in all! Besides, don’t worry, I think I can manage to make Concepción forget about Steve in not too long a time—what do you think I am, a goat in the matter of lovemaking? Yes, I’ve managed to leave my share of happy women behind, you know!”
Ginny began to laugh rather wildly. “Oh, Paco—I have a feeling I’m going to miss you—you’ve been a good companion. I only hope…” she broke off, biting her lip, and he changed the subject quickly and tactfully.
“Hey, you know what? I can hardly recognize this old place since you’ve been cleaning up all afternoon! It takes a woman with real energy to accomplish so much in such a short time! What do you think of your new home now, eh?”
Her face softened. “It’s like a dream! I kept pinching myself, telling myself it’s really mine! I do love it all, Paco—the rooms are so big and so cool inside—did you know the walls are more than a foot thick everywhere? And this patio—with those vines growing down over the old walls and the smell of all the flowers—wait until after you see it again!”
“So you are going to enjoy being a little housewife, eh? This I can hardly imagine, I must confess! I will drop back for sure as soon as I can—you’ll save a guest room for me?”
“ Mi casa es su casa, ” she said seriously, her eyes shining into his. In spite of her simple clothes he thought she seemed like a great lady, aglow with beauty and an inner excitement.
If Steve does anything; if he hurts her, I’ll see to him myself! Paco thought suddenly—surprising himself with the thought.
“Well,” he forced himself to say lightly as he took a last deep swallow of wine, “guess I had better get on that trail before it gets too dark. I have to be in Vera Cruz within three days. You won’t forget everything I’ve been telling you? Or your promise to Bishop?”
“I remember everything,” she said quietly. And then, surprising him with the admission, “I’m afraid, Paco! But I won’t let him see it. And don’t worry, I’m certainly not going to try and cling if I’m sure he doesn’t want me. It’s just that I have to be sure, one way or another, about him. Because I know about myself.”
He got up and came to bend over her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“I know, nina. But you take care of yourself all the same. Don’t let him—oh hell, it’s none of my business, sí? But you remember—I’m your friend. Any time.”
She called softly after him, “ Vaya con Dios, Paco.” After he had left, striding almost angrily away without a backward look, she went back into the house to help Salvador light the lamps.
It became cold enough, late at night, to warrant a small fire in the bedroom Ginny had chosen for her own. By about eleven o’clock, she was so tired that she turned down the last lamp that still remained lighted in the house—the one in her bedroom.
Only the light from the small fire she had made brightened the room, throwing strange leaping shadows on the walls and ceiling. I shall never be able to fall asleep tonight! Ginny thought, moving restlessly in the big bed. Too big to comfortably fall asleep in alone—but in her rage this afternoon she had been determined to use nothing that Concepción had used—to keep nothing around that would remind her of the gypsy woman and her casual assumption of belonging here.
The first thing that she had done was to clear everything out of the room that Concepción had obviously shared with Steve.
“It’ll do as a storeroom for the moment, I suppose,” she had remarked carelessly to Salvador; and they had proceeded to pile all the old and broken bits of furniture in the center of the room.
Ginny’s arms and legs ached with the effort she had made to make at least part of the old house more presentable. But after all, it’s mine, she kept telling herself to ward off the unpleasant feelings she had experienced when she saw that bedroom—Concepción’s bright, pretty clothes scattered all over it; and the rather narrow bed which would force two people sharing it to lie very close together. It felt so strange, suddenly, to be competing for the favors of her own husband—to wonder how he would greet her unexpected appearance here. Would he give her a chance to explain?
The thoughts went round and round in Ginny’s head while she lay in bed and stared at the fire. Yes, what will he do when he finds me here instead of Concepción? She felt suddenly quite chilly, and pulled the blanket over herself. The sheer, silk and lace shift she had smuggled here in the small bundle of possessions Paco had permitted her to bring along was scarcely any protection against the cold. With the last thought, Will I succeed in making him forget the past? she fell asleep quite suddenly—worn out from her exertions that day.
The crashing noise the door made as it was kicked open to smash against the wall on its hinges woke Ginny with a start so that she sat bolt upright in bed, almost forgetting where she was.
“What in hell is going on here? There’s not a light in the house and I almost broke my neck bumping against that pile of furniture you left in the bedroom. What kind of fancy notions have you developed now?”
She’d know that voice anywhere—harsh, full of anger—and suddenly, now that he was here and in the same room with her, obviously mistaking her for Concepción, she found that her throat was too dry to utter a single word. She simply sat there, staring as he walked over to the fire and dropped more wood on it, kicking it so that the flames flared up suddenly. She noticed that he seemed taller than ever—the glint of the bottle he carried in his hand and was now tipping up to his mouth as he swallowed—that he wore a loosely fitting pair of peasant’s trousers and a white camisa, open at the chest—and then at last he turned to snarl something else at her and froze.
Her eyes hung on his, watching the thunderstruck expression on his face begin to turn slowly to black, dangerous fury as he recognized her. She drank in every detail of his appearance while they continued to stare at each other in silence. His black hair was slightly longer than she remembered seeing it last, and the dark thick sideburns had been allowed to grow almost to the jawline to meet the downward, somehow villainous curve of a closely-cut Mexican style mustache. It only emphasized the lean, reckless face with those hard blue eyes that were just as startling against his sun-browned skin.
His eyes, narrowing, seemed to pierce her like daggers. Without a word, he tilted his head back and drank again from the bottle he carried—wiping the back of his hand across his lips when he had finished. And because he still had not spoken Ginny began to think, desperately, I must say something—anything—I can’t bear to have him look at me like this.
But in the end, when she opened her mouth, all that emerged was his name, in an imploring whisper—all the cool, rational words she had been preparing all these days had fled from her mind.
“Steve—” she whispered, “I…”
“You!” His one word, full of contemptuous rage, slashed across her faltering speech like a knife thrust. He continued in the same hateful tone, “ Por Dios! I had a feeling my evil genius was at work today! First I have a run-in with two separate troops of counter-guerillas, and then find you —here, of all places!”
His anger seemed to reach across the room at her, making her shrink back quite involuntarily when he took one forward step—then stopped himself abruptly.
“Am I supposed to be honored by this surprising visit? Madame du Plessis—the highest priced cortesana in all of Mexico City—the woman who threw over a French count for a Mexican colonel. The barefoot, sensual dancer at Maximilian’s private parties—my wife, the whore!” He began to laugh cruelly at the flush that came up in her face. “Can you still blush? You never cease to amaze me, madam. So here you are—” his harsh laughter jarred on her already exacerbated nerves, so that her hands flew up to cover her ears as she shrank from it. “I must say that I almost admire your cool effrontery! What kind of dirty trick do you have hidden up your sleeve this time? Do you have soldiers hidden in every room here to take me? Or perhaps you planned to do it all yourself—do you happen to have a gun concealed under that pillow? What’s the matter, madam, what’s happened to that sharp tongue of yours? I’ve never known you to be so silent!”
Sheer desperation made Ginny find words to defend herself with—any words, just so she could make him stop his scathing, blistering attack on her.
“Must you attack me so cruelly without even giving me a chance to defend myself? Must you always believe the worst of me? Oh God, Steve—if you’ll only listen to me, give me a chance…”
“Chance, madam? Chance for what? To betray me again? To gloat over your own cleverness as you were doing the last time I saw you? Damn you for the lying little bitch you are! No. I’ve had my bellyful of your lies and deceit—as you ought to know, by now! Why did you come here? What made you tear yourself away from the many delights of Mexico City? What in hell did you want this time?”
He had emptied the bottle in his hand before she could reply, and now with a vicious, sweeping gesture he sent it smashing against the wall, breaking into a thousand tiny shards that lay glittering like drops of blood on the floor.
As if his action had broken a spell Ginny came to her feet, facing him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Are you actually going to give me a chance to explain? Your Mr. Bishop sent me with a message for you. Paco brought me here…”
“Paco! By God, does your outrageousness know no bounds? Did you manage to seduce him too? And Bishop—he must be crazy! To trust you, of all people.”
“You—you’re as pigheaded and as insufferable as you always were, Steve Morgan! Don’t you realize that I believed you were dead? Don’t you realize that Devereaux played a little game with us both that day—that he tricked you into believing I’d conspired with him to—to—oh God! If I became a whore, then the first time was for you, Steve. He promised to save your life if I—”
“To save my life! Is that what you call that prison you had me sent to? You dare call that living hell life? ”
“Steve! Only listen to me…”
“No!” He flung the word in her face like a slap. “There is nothing you can tell me that I want to hear—Madame du Plessis. If you value your own rotten life I advise you to take yourself out of my sight—you can damn well spend the rest of the night writing out any message you have for me because I swear that if I have to spend one more second looking into your lying whore’s face I’ll break your neck!”
Instead of running from the look in his eyes, she went straight to him on her bare feet, and put her arms around his neck; clinging with a strength that he found amazing, even in the midst of his own blind rage.
“I came here because I love you, Steve. Kill me if you want to—do anything you please—it doesn’t matter.”
His hands went round her throat with an almost animal growl of rage, choking the words from her, as he planned to choke all the breath from her body. She saw sparks of light begin to dance before her eyes as his fingers began to tighten very slowly, his voice coming from a distance.
“This is what I dreamed of doing with you, you whore! From that moment when I saw you in Orizaba, dressed all in white like an angel—so pure outside, so corrupt inside—did you know I was watching you with the rest of those wretched, chained felons who stood shivering in that ditch filled with dirty, stinking water while you passed by, laughing so gaily when your newest lover kissed your little hand? You should not have come here, Madame du Plessis!”
She realized, dimly, that he intended to kill her—that he was slowly and inexorably choking the life from her. But instead of struggling to be free some deep-seated instinct made her lean her body limply and heavily against his while with the last remaining strength that remained in her she desperately pulled his head down to hers.
She seemed to be offering her white throat to his strangling hands like a sacrifice as her head tilted back. Unable to utter a sound, her parted, gasping lips seemed to fasten themselves to his.
Is there absolutely no limit to the tenacity of this woman? he thought, why isn’t she fighting for her life? What does she hope to gain by this?
Did he really want to kill her? Could he bear to have her dead? Steve was suddenly, intensely aware of her small, firm breasts against his chest—the particular fragrance of her body that belonged only to her—the taste of her tears, the silky-soft texture of her hair. Without knowing how it happened he found his fingers tangled in her hair, instead of around her throat, and he was kissing her like a starving man; too much aware of the sudden, strong wave of desire that almost made him groan out loud with its intensity.
Damn her, damn her! He had almost killed her, and still she continued to cling to him, her little tongue darting into his mouth as she began to kiss him back with a fervor that surprised him even while it disgusted him.
It was intolerable to have his own treacherous weakness discovered and used by her to trap him—to wonder, even while he couldn’t stop kissing her, how many other men had been trapped by her beauty and their own desire—had kissed her and felt her kiss them back just as warmly—had taken her and buried themselves in her corrupt softness just as he longed to do.
He’d cursed her name and her memory a thousand times at least—over and over, until he felt the hate and disgust he’d begun to feel for her seared indelibly into his brain. And then she had to turn up out of the blue and throw herself at him shamelessly—tempting him almost beyond endurance…
With a sudden, brutal motion born of hate and desperation and self-disgust Steve brought both his hands down on her shoulders; fingers biting into soft flesh for just an instant before he flung her away from him—sending her staggering against the door. She stood there leaning there with her palms flat against it for support, her breathing sounding like sobbing, her eyes wide with shock.
“Oh—why? Why, Steve? Please—”
He ignored her panting, breathless cry of pleading; too busy with finding his own self-control again to care for her pain.
“Don’t push your luck any further, Ginny.” His voice was flat, harsh. “If you won’t get out of my life gracefully, then I’ll take myself out of yours—I don’t think I care for the thought that you still carry my name—even if you had the decency not to use it. If you won’t get an annulment, then I will.”
“Annulment!” Her sudden, passionate cry of rage made him lift one eyebrow in amazement. A moment ago she had been crying—pleading brokenly—and now she stood with her back straight and stiff against the door, her bare feet planted, chin tilted defiantly. “Do you dare remind me again of that night when you should have been with me and you chose Concepción instead? Is that why you want an annulment now? So you can marry that slut you had the bad taste to keep here, in my house?”
His voice sharpened with anger. “Concepción—what has she to do with this—this farce between us? And what did you and Paco do with her, anyway? Christ—did you think that by substituting yourself for her you could fob me off with your cheaply bought favors?” He took a step towards her, his mouth twisted dangerously. “You bitch! Where’s Concepción?”
“I got rid of her! Yes—did you think I’d tolerate your mistress here a minute after I’d arrived? She’s lucky I didn’t carve her up and destroy those overblown charms forever! You see, at least I have the courage to fight for what I want—which is something you seem to have lost.”
“What in hell are you talking about, you little puta? And how dared you send Concepción away?”
“I’ll tell you how I dared—by scaring the death out of her! And believe me, I’m beginning to feel you weren’t worth it—you coward! Yes—you can scowl all your want—do you think you scare me any longer with your loud threats and your blustering? You want me—you want me as much as I’ve wanted you all these months—and yet you’re no longer man enough to admit it! There was a time when you were sure enough of yourself to have taken me without another word, but no—you were afraid, weren’t you? Is that your problem now, Steve? That you feel you’re no longer man enough to please me?”
His face had gone white with anger under her wild, scornful words.
“Christ—” he said softly, the words coming from between his gritted teeth, “is there no trick you’re incapable of using? Is there anything too low for you? My problem, if you can call it that, is that I’ve stood here far too long—wasting my time on you. You can think what you please, Ginny, and do as you please. I’ve no more stomach for this pointless argument, or for you!”
He made as if to brush past her, actually laying his hand on the doorknob when the peculiarly taut, barely-controlled note he heard in her voice forced her back to his unwilling attention. “Steve!”
He swung around angrily to face her and thought bitterly that the tone of her voice should have warned him. Suddenly, amazingly, she had a knife at his throat; and as fast as his reactions usually were, this time the very unexpectedness of her smooth, pantherish movement took him completely by surprise. Moving very quickly on her bare feet she had suddenly pressed her body against his in almost the same motion; her left arm going around his waist while the knife point pressed threateningly against his neck, just below the ear.
Unbelievingly he began to laugh. “My God! This is too much—even from you!” He felt the pressure increase very slightly, just enough to break the skin, and stopped laughing, his eyes looking down into hers wonderingly.
He heard her say in the same coldly uninflected voice, “In case you’re wondering how far I will go, Steve, I should tell you that I’ve killed a man before, with a knife in his throat. So when you raise your arms, please don’t try anything foolish—this blade could slip very easily, as I’m sure you realize. Now if you’ll clasp your hands behind your head—and please move very slowly….”
“This is not happening—the crazy bitch—what in hell is she up to this time with this ridiculous game she’s playing?”
And yet at the same time he was thinking he’d begun to grit his teeth with rage and frustration, knowing he would play her stupid game to the finish—until he could get his hands on her.
Hardly daring to breathe, Ginny saw the anger flare in his eyes, making them glitter in the firelight as he narrowed them at her. Still, he obeyed her quietly enough although the rigidity of his muscles under her hand made her move the knife very slightly so that the slightest move on his part would indeed cause it to slip very easily, just as she had warned him.
“Are you going to tell me what you hope to gain by this stupid trick? Did you go to all this trouble merely to make sure I was dead this time?”
Surprisingly her mouth had begun to curve into a taunting, teasing smile.
“I don’t want you dead, Steve. I came here to find a husband. And since I’ve been reminded far too often that our marriage has never been consummated, I think you ought to remedy that. After all, you do owe me certain rights. I’m still your wife, whatever else you may choose to call me.”
“Dios!” Forgetting himself he swore in Spanish, hardly able to believe his ears. “You are crazy! Tell me, madam, do you seriously expect me to play the part of your—your damned stud—and at knife-point into the bargain?”
“Since you will be enjoying the favors of the highest-priced cortesana in all of Mexico City for nothing, don’t you think it’s a pretty good bargain, all things considered?” she said sweetly and then as his face darkened with anger her voice rose slightly. “Why do you look so stunned? How many times did you take me by force? Remember how you ripped the clothes off my body when I resisted you? Remember when I—”
“I remember a time when you used a knife on me before—” he said in a strange voice and she said abruptly, biting her lip to hide her emotion, “Lower one arm—your left—very slowly; and unbuckle that belt. How does it feel now it’s your turn to undress for me, lover?”
“I really can’t believe that you mean to go through with this ridiculous performance! Damn it, Ginny—” he broke off suddenly when the knife drew blood and stared down at her disbelievingly.
“Unbuckle your belt, Steve,” she said flatly and this time he lowered his left hand without another word and began to fumble with his belt buckle, still staring at her, with a new, strange expression creeping into his eyes.
“And now?” he said suddenly in a voice that sounded oddly choked with some kind of emotion she couldn’t read.
“Step out of them.”
He shrugged. “I’ve really got to hand it to you—I never thought I’d shuck my pants for a woman who held a knife at my throat! Do you make a habit of this?”
“Only when a man is extraordinarily stubborn,” she whispered, her hand beginning to caress his back.
His voice sounded sarcastic, but for an instant she thought she heard a note of repressed laughter in it. “Tell me, ma’am, do I have to wait for step by step instructions from you, or am I allowed to improvise occasionally?”
She became aware quite suddenly of the warmth of his hand against her belly, moving deliberately lower.
“How’s that, ma’am—does that please you? Anything to oblige the lady with the sharp knife.”
She gasped sharply, and found his eyes holding hers, with the dancing light of the fire reflected in their blueness.
“Don’t!”
“Why not? You know I’d forgotten—how soft your hair is—even here—”
“No, Steve!” All her anger and her defiance left her quite suddenly and she began to tremble.
“Be careful with that knife, Ginny—don’t you think it’s in the way now?”
His right hand was suddenly caught in her hair and she let the knife fall with a clatter between them. He kicked it away, along with his pants. With a sudden, savage movement he took a hold of her shirt at the back and ripped it apart.
“Now we’re even,” he said softly. And then, as he lifted her into his arms to carry her over to the bed, “What a persistent little vixen you are! I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to resist either your body or your threats—you see how easy I am to rape?”
He almost flung her down onto the bed and took his shirt off without removing his eyes from the seductive curves of her body. She was actually here—the little green-eyed, passionately sensuous woman he’d dreamed about and lusted for and hated. And she was his—he still could hardly believe the lengths she’d gone to just now, just to force him to admit that he wanted her. And God knew that in spite of every instinct that screamed warning at him he wanted her…
She held her arms out to him and clasped him passionately to her softly yielding body when he came to her. The passion that had always existed between them took over and she was ready for him without wanting or needing any further preliminaries. Her body arched fiercely up against his, just as achingly impatient for that first joining as his was.
She alone has the power to defeat me, Steve thought suddenly. She means trouble—she alone, of all the women I’ve known has been my downfall, my fatal weakness—but I’m incapable of resisting her any longer! She’s a bitch—she’s been a whore—but at this moment she’s only mine.
Never before, when they had made love, had she called out to him aloud, sobbing her love and her need as she did now. He felt a raging pang of jealousy for a moment, until her caressing hands, the spontaneous movements of her supple body blotted out everything but the fact of his own insatiable, unsatisfied need for her—for this particular woman above all others; this wild, bold sensual creature who gave herself to him with such complete abandonment that it was hard to believe that anything had ever existed between them but desire.