“‘You do something to me,’” Chloe sang softly, “‘that nobody else can do.’” She lifted her mouth to Drake’s. It was the first time she’d ever initiated a kiss with him.
The significance of this was not lost on Drake. With a sudden fierceness, he tucked her even closer to him. She could feel the buttons on his shirt pressing into her skin. She deepened the kiss and his hands roved over her back, caressing and gripping the soft cotton of her dress. He whispered her name. Chloe responded to his touch, a quickening, a heady rush of sensations. She panicked and almost pulled away—as she always had before. Tonight, though, she held herself still, letting the seductive vibrations he ignited roll through her. Did she love Drake? Could she marry him?
He nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Marry me, Chloe.” His warm breath tickled her tender ear lobe. “Let’s set the date. I’ve waited long enough and so have you. Marry me.”
Chloe pressed her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. Though her heart beat a frantic warning, she breathed in the mingled fragrances of his faint perspiration and lime aftershave and rolled them around inside her like a vintner testing a new wine.
“Chloe?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” As though diving into chilled water, she shivered sharply once. Then she rested her cheek against Drake’s shoulder.
“At last,” he breathed the words with obvious satisfaction. “All good things do come to those who wait.”
She didn’t answer, merely stood on tiptoe and kissed him again. Into this kiss she poured all her longing for shelter and love. Drake answered it with a passion that left her shaken and clinging to him. Even if she didn’t love Drake, she cared for him, longed for his touch.
He’s good for me. I will love him. I married Theran even though I was still unsure. And it worked out.
“I’ll take good care of you, Chloe,” Drake murmured, kissing the curve of her ear.
“I know you will,” she whispered back, her wayward pulse rattling wild and free. “And I’ll try to be a good wife . . . and mother.”
“I already knew that.” He began kissing her again, not the usual chaste kisses she allowed him. These kisses packed long-denied yearning and bone-melting desire. And she reacted. Within her, a sudden tropical surf swept her away in a warm, frothy surge. She clung to him, the only stable thing in this world anew with passion.
I’m going to marry Drake and give him a child.
What other choice or path did she have? To be her father’s hostess till she withered away, a war widow from a forgotten war?
No.
Voices far down the beach penetrated Chloe’s mind, filling her with caution. Though alone, they were still in a public place. She turned her head. “Let’s go in,” Drake invited. “We’re engaged now. Come with me. Stay with me.”
Chloe did not mistake what his invitation meant. Her raucous heart cried out caution. “We aren’t married yet.”
“What does that matter?” He hugged her closer. “I’ve given you my word.”
“I’m not like your other women,” her voice snapped cold and hard, barely sounding like herself. She stiffened.
“Is that what’s holding you back?” He took a step back, his face shadowed in the moonlight. “You’re afraid I’ll be like your father?”
“Yes.” The truth, a secret long held, felt dragged from her by force. She pulled away and dipped her toes into the cool water.
“I’ll never insult you as your father evidently did your mother.” Drake’s voice hardened, too. “I’ll never pinch the maids or get them pregnant. If you are mine, I doubt I’ll need other women. But I won’t lie to you.” He pulled her spine back against his chest. “I like women, but I’ll give you this promise. If I do ever carry on an affair, it won’t be with a woman you know. And I’ll be perfectly discreet; you will never know of it. You will never suffer because of it.”
His words didn’t surprise her. From what she’d seen of the men in her world, his offer was at least honest. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, wanting, needing to trust him before she lost everything that mattered, even herself. “I couldn’t bear it,” she whispered.
“I know I couldn’t bear it if you were unfaithful,” he replied, gripping her upper arms. “But I know you won’t be. Some couples are foolish. They think that just because times have changed and sex is out in the open, they can carry on any way they choose and there won’t be any consequences.” His tone was dismissive. “I’m not so foolish. I’ve chosen a chaste woman, a woman of character, for my wife. And, Chloe, I won’t throw that away or wound you carelessly. I promise.”
A woman of character.
Turning swiftly, she kissed him, pressing against him, wanting to reward him for this tribute to her chaste ways, to let him sweep her off her feet, convince her that, in accepting him, she’d made the right choice.
“I won’t pressure you to spend the night with me. Your reluctance just proves that you are the woman I think you are. But name the date.”
Deep in sensation, her mind hadn’t been prepared for this question. She blurted out the first date that came to mind, “December first.”
He chuckled. “Do I have to wait that long? What made you think of that date?”
His laughter rippled against her. “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s a month before my birthday and I’ll just have enough time to plan a small wedding. You don’t mind a small wedding, do you?”
“Are you kidding?” He chuckled again deep in his chest. “I hate big crushes in huge churches and everyone drunk at the reception. Let’s just have family and a few close friends. Do you want to be married at your home in Maryland?”
“No,” her reply popped out. “Let’s marry in New York. And leave immediately for someplace faraway.”
Let’s run away together, Drake. Leave it all behind.
“You make it sound like an adventure, princess. Very well. But I’m going to move the date forward a month to November first, then. Okay?”
“Fine.” She kissed him again, stopping his words, not wanting to talk about it any more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe.
He pulled away an inch. “I love it when you do that, but you’ve got to stop now. Or we may have to move the date up again. I can’t spend the next few months taking one cold shower after another.” He grinned.
She felt lost again and rested her head on his shoulder, hiding her face from him.
He hugged her, kissed the top of her head, and tenderly stroked her hair. “Let’s walk on the beach. If I take you inside, I won’t be responsible for what might happen.” He spoke lightly, but Chloe understood the honesty under his words. She felt the same way. The temptation to go inside with him and cast the die once and for all held her fascinated. But she allowed him to draw her along the edge of the flowing and ebbing waves. Better to wait and start off as she had with Theran. Then it would have the best chance to go right.
I can be happy with Drake. I will be.
A few days later, far into the evening, Chloe arrived at the apartment in D.C. That morning, Drake had been called to New York City for some board of directors meeting of his father’s corporation. Leaving the beach had been wrenching to Chloe. The days after she’d accepted Drake’s proposal had passed with kisses, red roses, and tender moments, always on the beach. More and more, Chloe felt she’d made the right decision. They’d even discussed Bette and how to bring her into their home. Maybe now the doubts would cease. When she married Drake, she’d reclaim her daughter and be able to go forward instead of just marking time.
She’d just changed from her traveling outfit into a new black satin lounging gown when she heard the front door opening and voices below—her father and Jackson. She walked out onto the landing to call down a greeting, but stopped when she heard her father’s voice rumble up from below. “Well, tonight we break out the champagne. Drake’s finally done it. Chloe’s set the date.”
Chloe stood frozen with her mouth open. Drake had called her father?
“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Jackson said, sounding unimpressed.
“Well, if I’m going to lose my hostess, it might as well be to a millionaire.” Daddy laughed heartily and with a repulsive smugness. “Anyway, she’ll be even more use to me as Mrs. Drake Lovelady.”
C
hloe realized that she’d stopped breathing. She gasped for air and leaned back beside her door, suddenly weak. She pressed her palms against the wall to steady herself. Why had Drake called her father? Was it possible he had done so? But who else knew of their engagement? She’d told no one. Had Drake?
She hazarded a glance down the staircase. Her father and Jackson had moved into the parlor on the first floor. She heard their voices, but faintly. She tiptoed down the steps and paused at the bottom of the staircase. She’d never eavesdropped on her father and Jackson before.
But maybe I should have.
She tiptoed closer, relieved that the soft-soled slippers she wore made no noise. The men hadn’t closed the door. She could hear Jackson speaking clearly from where she stood.
“I don’t know why you want to marry Chloe off.” Jackson sounded vaguely disgruntled.
Why?
“That’s because you aren’t greedy like I am,” her father said with brazen satisfaction. “I made my pile and bought me a classy wife with it, but my money don’t even come close to a million.”
“But your stocks have been doing well. And how will Chloe being a millionaire’s wife help you?”
Her father barked one harsh laugh. “It sticks in your craw ’cause she never looked at you twice.”
A silence. “I may admire Miss Chloe, but I know she sees me as merely an extension of you. Not a completely erroneous inference.” Jackson’s tone was sadly ironic. “I’ve never had any hopes that she would see me as more than your shill.”
Jackson admired her, wanted her for himself? Chloe clutched the post at the bottom of the railing.
“Bein’ my shill has kept you in freshly ironed shirts and sleepin’ on a soft mattress with a pretty little mistress. I don’t think you have anythin’ to complain about.”
“I’m not complaining,” Jackson muttered. “I just think that your own daughter ought to count for more than a mere convenience to you.”
“My daughter has been plenty inconvenient to me. Runnin’ off to marry a poor New York soldier for starters. Having a cranky, sickly baby. Well, that turned out all right. Lily was happy at gettin’ to take over the granddaughter. And
that
kept her off my back and let me have Chloe to myself. But I’ve had to take real pains to keep her here in Washington. Had to handle her with kid gloves. Make her think I needed her.”
Chloe tasted bitter bile rise in her throat.
“Well, didn’t you?” Jackson demanded. “She’s been a wonderful hostess for you.”
“You have me there.” Her father’s tone mellowed. “She’s done me proud—more than that useless Carlyle I married, that drab scoldin’ shrew. All I ever got from her was Chloe and the right to call Ivy Manor my home.” His tone reverted to cocky. “But that was all I wanted, so that’s okay, too.”
“Miss Chloe deserves better from you.” Jackson must have stood up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor pushed Chloe to back up onto the bottom step.
“I don’t get what you mean. I’ve given Chloe anythin’ she ever wanted—pretty clothes, ponies, a fine education at one of the best finishin’ schools, a fancy debut. She’s had everythin’ a girl could want or need.”
“I meant that she loves you.” Jackson’s voice firmed.
Chloe swallowed a moan, which might betray her presence. The walls around her appeared to warp in and out as though an earthquake moved beneath her.
“What about it? A girl should love her daddy.”
His callous words pierced her. Long silver needles slid under her skin.
“I see trying to explain to you what I mean is futile.” The sound of the glass decanter being set down hard on a metal tray gave voice to Jackson’s irritation.
“Now you got that right. Chloe as Mrs. Drake Lovelady will smooth a path for me to the other side of the aisle. I can make a lot more milkin’ Republicans than reapin’ the little that the minority party, the Democrats, have to offer.”
Her knees turned to jelly and she lowered herself onto the bottom step.
“Didn’t you learn anything from the Teapot Dome Scandal?” Jackson snapped.
Her father laughed unpleasantly. “I learned that mostly the ones who got the dough kept it. Even if they had to appear before some silly senators just tryin’ to get reelected. And how many crooked deals never see the light of day? I’m just the man to be the go-between in transactions like that. I’ll take my chances. And I’ll thank my Chloe for puttin’ me in the way of new business.”
“I don’t know if you’ll have much luck with Drake Lovelady. He’s no babe in the woods.”
Waves of heat and cold rolled through Chloe. She clutched the edge of the step to keep from slipping farther down.
“It’s a little hard to say no to your wife’s daddy. And I’ll keep my eye on him and take note of any little indiscretion he might not like Chloe to know about. Fortunately Lovelady does love the ladies.” He laughed at his own joke.
“So you’ll blackmail him,” Jackson sounded grim.
Bending double, Chloe pressed her hand over her mouth.
“You are almighty self-righteous tonight. Have another shot of that good Canadian whiskey and drop this. Chloe ain’t for you and if I told her that you was takin’ up for her, she wouldn’t even believe it.” The floor creaked as he moved.
Afraid of being seen, Chloe fled soundlessly up to her room, where she closed the door behind her and then leaned against it. Her heart throbbed, pounded. In the low light, she stared at the violet-sprigged wallpaper, the pale blue satin bedspread, and matching draperies she’d chosen. She’d spent the earlier part of this year redecorating the whole apartment. She hadn’t realized at the time that she was part of the setting she was creating for her father. In his script, she wasn’t even a bit player with a line or two.
Her years in Washington had been a charade. She’d never thought her father had changed completely, but she’d thought . . . She’d believed a lie—that he needed her, finally loved her a little. But to him, she wasn’t a person. She was no more than his trophy in the endless tug of war with her mother. They’d split the spoils, Bette for her mother and herself for her father.
And I let them, thinking it was a kindness to my daughter.