With light strokes his fingertips moved over her skin, remembering the responsive places, lingering just long
enough to tease and tune them to his private orchestration. The crescendoing melody faltered, though, as he ran his sensitive palms across her stomach. If he hadn’t known her body so well, he might have missed the almost imperceptible changes in her. But he did know and he noticed the difference.
She had always been slender, firmly curved, and perfectly formed. That hadn’t changed—the difference seemed more in the feel of her. It was as if pregnancy had smoothed angles and mellowed the taut muscles of youth into full maturity.
Dane closed his eyes with the realization that brought a mixture of sadness and pride. He’d never had any intention of changing her and yet the simple fact of his love had done so. Did she regret the tiny marks that would always remind her that once she had carried the seed of his love? He laid his cheek against her breast as his hand moved over her stomach in tender tribute.
Dear God
, he thought
, please don’t let her regret something so beautiful.
Breathlessly, Amanda absorbed the scent and sight and feel of his nearness. Her fingers were buried in the tawny richness of his hair; her body was lost in the sweetness of his touch; her heart was a willing hostage to the magic that drugged the air with surrender.
Here, in his arms, she found a serenity she’d thought never to experience again and she wanted to savor it to the fullest. Whether it was right or wrong she no longer cared. For a little while, time would cushion the truth, fuse the past into the present and let her love Dane for one splendid moment.
He had claimed the night for his own, but it would belong to her too. Hours, moments, a lifetime—fugitive promises in a confusing tapestry. But she would have the
memory of tonight—one silver thread to remember for always, no matter what.
When she felt him grow still, Amanda called a halt to the weavings of her mind. A reluctant shiver of awareness seeped through her as she realized the questing exploration of his hands had a new purpose. The marks of pregnancy were faint on her skin, but they were there nonetheless. And he had noticed.
Amanda closed her eyes tightly, wanting to hold on to the lovely feeling of belonging, but it slipped further and further away with each inquisitive brush of his fingers. Even now, when she’d almost managed to forget, he had reminded her, reminded her of the pain that lay between them like two parallel lines that stretched to infinity without ever once touching.
His stroking stopped and a low groan of sadness rumbled from his throat as he bent his head to kiss her stomach. Did he see her as scarred? Less than what she had once been? She attempted to block the thought from reaching her fragile emotions. Like the darkness blankets the night, she gathered her feelings about her for shelter. What he thought didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except taking and giving until there was nothing left.
Flames of need flicked at her reason and she placed her hands on his shoulders, pressing him down, down into the mattress. His eyes smoldered in surprise, but his arms went around her, drawing her with him.
She lowered herself until the searing heat of her flesh blended into his. A smile that wasn’t quite a smile touched her lips and vanished, but Amanda felt its sting. Loving Dane had become a paradox, an emotion separate and apart from her. Even as she yielded herself to the beautiful
sensations, she felt distanced from him and yet so close she could melt into his very being.
She was fire and ice, a cold December rain and a tropical summer storm. As her lips covered his in a pleading kiss, she moved feverishly to assuage the spasms of urgency that shuddered through her. Their bodies joined, but that wasn’t enough for her. There would never be enough; she knew that with each tympanic beat of her heart. But still she made love to him desperately, as if she could rid herself of the yearning, as if somehow she could free herself of him.
Slowly, she recognized the calming caress of his hands and just as slowly, she felt her body respond. He gentled her, quieted her frenzied movements and murmured her name until it became a rhythmic part of her breathing.
For a long time he held her, his lips a constant reality in a world of dreamy sensation. Along her neck and into the soft hollows of her shoulders his kisses burned. He stroked her, letting his fingers graze her inner thigh and then letting them stray upward to brush against the swell of her breast. As the tantalizing teasing grew more serious, Amanda allowed herself to move again. Her body tightened with a ripple of excitement and the intimate delights of rediscovery.
Dane was as solidly male as she remembered. His skin was rough and smooth to the touch, like richly napped velvet. He tasted of salt spray and the clean scent of outdoors clung to him with enticing promise. His body was a muscular pillow that accepted her weight without protest and contoured to fit her very feminine outline.
The sailboat berth offered only moderate comfort, but Amanda knew she couldn’t have wished for more than
Dane’s warm embrace. It was like sinking into a feather bed and feeling it puff and billow until it formed a downy cradle. He enclosed her in the same cushiony way.
With consummate skill he created a pleasurable tension inside her. Her breasts were firm and heavy against the frictioning texture of his chest. She felt his passion build, knew the wondrous mystery of being a part with him in this ageless, but always new union. Rhythmically, she moved with him until her thoughts and yearnings meshed into his with perfect accord.
She heard the pelting tempo of rain outside and exulted in the elemental storm within her that whipped at long-denied passions and forced her to feel and react. With a lingering sigh that escaped her throat as a whispery plea, Amanda gave herself up to the tempest that was, and always had been, surrender.
As if he had been waiting for that sigh, Dane captured it and returned it to her lips. His breath filled her and his tongue curled around hers in an erotic symbol of their joining. With swift, steady tenderness he loved her until, at last, she lay drained but satisfied in his arms.
Even after his breathing was sleepily deep and regular, Amanda stayed nestled in the curve of his side. Her mind wandered through memories of other nights when she had known such contentment. Could she dare to hope that the feeling would linger? Was there a chance that tonight marked the beginning of new dreams? Of a future together?
She wouldn’t let her thoughts drift further into fantasy. At the moment everything was a muted blur; truth blended into wishes, and emotions merged with physical serenity. A good marriage depended on mutual understanding,
and whether she and Dane could ever build that foundation again was an undecided question.
She had given herself to him tonight because she had wanted to resolve the conflict of heart and mind. But she had only proved that there was no resolution. Even in the midst of loving him, of being caught in the wild winds of her own passion, there had been a corner of her heart that remained her own—a closed door that would not open. And heaven alone knew if there was a key.
“Amanda?” From the silence his voice came, husky with unspoken promises. “Come home to me.”
She couldn’t stop the trembling that stripped her contentment in a matter of seconds.
Oh, Dane,
she thought,
why did you have to ask now?
“Dane, I...” Her words trailed into emptiness. For him the answer was a clear-cut yes or no, but for her it was colored by varied shades of gray. She searched for the right way to say
Maybe
...
Someday ... but not now ... not yet
. She searched and Dane waited for the answer she could not give.
Slowly, she felt him shift on the narrow berth and then she shivered as he pulled his arms from around her. He reached up and snapped off the light, then lay back beside her. With the darkness, Amanda realized the small but significant space he’d placed between them.
They were two people who shared the same bed and the same empty longings. Two people who had just shared a special expression of love and who now were as separate as it was possible for two people to be.
Tears welled in her eyes and evaporated with her guilty frustration. This was all her fault, from beginning to end.
And yet, even knowing that, she felt powerless to bridge the chasm that existed between her heart and Dane’s.
Powerless to prevent the good-bye that she was sure would come with the morning—a morning that was still hours away and yet would dawn all too soon.
Chapter Nine
The call from her attorney came two days after Dane had left her with a good-bye as frosty as the Chesapeake morning.
“Mrs. Maxwell, good news!” The gruff voice was professionally pleasant and to the point. “The final hearing for your divorce has been set.”
“Oh,” Amanda said, and then added with resignation, “I don’t suppose there will be any more delays?”
“No need to worry about that. Mr. Maxwell’s attorney assured me that his client wanted the final decree as soon as possible. Still, the court schedule was so full that six weeks was the best I could do. December twelfth, that’s the date. You’ll have your divorce in time for Christmas.”
“Oh,” Amanda repeated, her fingers automatically reaching for a pen to make a note of the appointment. Her mind skittered away from the date she scribbled on the cover of the telephone directory. December twelfth.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....
Frowning at the scrap of nonsensical song, she made herself concentrate on the voice at the other end of the line. But the conversation was already being concluded and she barely had time to say thank you before the phone connection was broken.
As she replaced the receiver in its cradle, her pen circled the date again and again. Amanda stared at the movements of her hand and the bold finality of what she had written.
December twelfth—divorce
.
There was some mistake, she thought. You were supposed to get presents for Christmas, not a divorce.
...
my true love gave to me....
The song wouldn’t leave her alone and she walked to the window to look blankly out at a windy, gray day. Dane was giving her what he thought she wanted—only she knew it wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wondered how he would react if she called him and told him that she’d made a mistake. What would he say if she asked him if she could come home?
Amanda lifted the weight of hair off her nape and then let it fall again onto the collar of her sweater. Oh, if only it could be that simple. If only she could believe that going back to him would solve everything. But how could she even consider the possibility when she knew that the relationship she offered would be less than what she’d given before?
Time could mend the separation of their hearts and
bring a modicum of normalcy to their lives, but it couldn’t erase the scars. There would always be at least one barrier between herself and Dane, one subject that couldn’t be discussed and one memory that would keep them from sharing the total, unreserved intimacy of marriage.
Maybe if she had loved him less, it wouldn’t have seemed so important, but she did love him and it was important.
Absently, she ran her hands over the smooth fabric of the draperies. December twelfth. Six weeks away. The thought made her heart as heavy as the overcast sky and another fragment of song drifted to mind.
Until the twelfth of never, I’ll
still be loving you.
Amanda sighed as the first raindrop spattered against the windowpane. If only she could believe that loving would be enough....
* * * *
Snow began to fall early on Thanksgiving morning and, in guilty relief, Amanda canceled the planned visit to her parents’ home. By late afternoon the sun was setting on a world of winter white and she’d stayed indoors as long as she could. She donned jeans, sweater, heavy socks, boots, down jacket, muffler, and stocking cap before stepping into the soft silence outside her door.
Amanda walked all the way to the boat dock and stood for a few minutes looking at the icy veneer that glazed the surface of the water. Turning to retrace her path, she was careful to match boot to boot print so that only one set of prints disturbed the smooth, snow blanket. The childhood
game brought a sudden smile as she remembered how Dane had teased her for playing it.
He was never far from her thoughts, but today he seemed especially near. Maybe it was just the holiday and the memory of other Thanksgivings spent with him, but Amanda felt the weight of his absence as if it were the coat that she wore. She wondered where he had gone for the holiday, whom he’d talked to, if he’d thought about her.
She stopped at the edge of the road and looked back to check her neat path. Her gaze settled on Dane, who stood several yards from her on the trail that led from Martha’s house to the dock. Her lips curved in spontaneous greeting and she lifted a hand to catch his attention before the reason for his stillness trapped her in mid-movement. He hadn’t wanted her to see him, and she realized with heart-tugging sadness that she wouldn’t have—if she hadn’t been playing the game.
But now that she knew he was close, Amanda couldn’t just walk away. She had to talk to him, had to hear his voice. And maybe she would just mention, casually, that she really didn’t want a divorce.
He was turning to leave and she called to stop him, but the sound was so low he didn’t hear. Her breath hung in her throat as she took a hurried step toward him and suddenly, she was running. “Dane,” she called louder this time. “Dane, wait!”
He kept his back to her, but he stopped and waited for her to catch up to him. Amanda noticed the stiff way he held himself and she knew she should have pretended not to see him, but she’d missed him so. She raised her hand to touch him, then dropped it without so much as brushing his sleeve.
“Dane?” It was a whisper that carried all her futile wishes, and when it brought his gaze around to
her, she forgot everything except the dusky pain in his eyes. Oh, God, she’d never meant to hurt him.