If Ever I Loved You

• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  

"I Can't Leave You Alone, Ginny Lea."


He murmured roughly, and pulled her forward so she slid
off the chair and onto her knees on the floor.


Before she could protest, his mouth covered hers in a
hard, punishing kiss. Her lips parted in a gasp, admitting his seeking,
plundering tongue. She struggled, pounding her fists on his back, but
his arms tightened around her waist.


The kiss was so intense that she was totally unprepared
when he suddenly unclasped her arms from around him and pushed her
away. His breath was coming in short rasping pants as he stood and
looked down at her bewildered, upturned face.


"Oh, no, Ginny Lea," he said. "I can't leave you alone,
because you belong to me. I never filed those annulment papers. Like it
or not, you're still my wife!"

PHYLLIS HALLDORSON, like all her heroines, is as in love
with her husband today as on the day they met. It is because she has
known so much love in her own life that her characters seem to come
alive as they, too, discover the joys of romance.

Dear Reader,

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who
have written in with your comments on Silhouette Romances.

We are always delighted to receive your letters, telling
us what you like best about Silhouette, our authors, or indeed,
anything else you want to tell us. This is a tremendous help to us as
we strive to publish the best contemporary romances possible.

All the romances from Silhouette Books are for you, so
enjoy this book and the many stories to come. I hope you will continue
to share your thoughts with us and invite you to write to me at this
address:

Jane Nicholls

Silhouette Books

PO Box 177

Dunton Green

Sevenoaks

Kent

TN13 2YE

Copyright © 1984 by Phyllis Halldorson

Map by Ray
Lundgren

First printing 1984

ISBN 0 340 36176 X

For Ethel Bangert, my teacher,

who opened the door and
pointed the way.

With many thanks.

The somber feeling of dread intensified, tying Gina's
stomach in knots. She shifted uneasily on the highly polished oak pew
in the beautiful old Episcopal cathedral as the magnificent pipe organ
began the processional.

A blonde girl, wraithlike in pastel pink, stepped through
the door at the back of the candlelit nave and began her slow trek up
the long, white-satin-covered aisle toward the altar. She was followed
at suitable intervals by five other young women gowned in muted shades
of yellow, blue, green, apricot and mauve. After the appearance of the
maid of honor the music switched to the happy strains of Wagner's
Wedding March and Cynthia, radiantly lovely in white peau de soie and
lace, appeared on the arm of her father, Stewart Tobias.

Gina's nails dug into her palms as she rose with the
several hundred other guests and turned to watch the glowing young
bride and the handsome bearded man, who looked every inch the
successful writer in his gray tuxedo. For the past seven years Gina had
used any excuse, truthful or not, to avoid attending weddings, but this
time there had been no escape. Stewart, the strong, gentle man whose
engagement diamond she wore, would never have understood her refusal to
attend the marriage of his only daughter. He didn't know that seven
years ago, at the age of eighteen, Gina had also walked down the
flower-strewn aisle of a fashionable church here in San Francisco on
the arm of her father.

Her vision blurred and in her mind it was no longer
Stewart and Cynthia standing there but her father and herself, Joseph
and Virginia Lea Brown. Her gown had been a dreamlike confection
whipped up by one of the country's top designers, paid for, as were all
the other expenses of the wedding, by her soon-to-be in-laws. Joe had
looked self-conscious and uncomfortable in the first tuxedo he'd ever
worn.

She'd been known as Ginny Lea in those days, a happy
carefree teenager just starting her freshman year at San Francisco
State University, and she had the world by the tail. It didn't matter
that she was the daughter of a midwestern farm boy who had found a
career in the army as a non-commissioned officer, and the man waiting
for her at the altar, Peter Van Housen, was the youngest son of one of
the most wealthy and prestigious families in the bay area. She was
Cinderella and Peter was Prince Charming and fairy tales always ended
happily.

A ragged sigh escaped before Gina could stop it, and she
blinked her wide violet eyes with surprise to find that the music had
stopped and Cynthia and Stewart were now standing at the altar. The
white-robed clergyman asked, "Who gives Cynthia in marriage?" and
Stewart answered, "Her mother and I do," then took his place in the front pew beside his
ex-wife. He and Cindy's mother had had an amiable divorce and had done
a remarkable job of keeping any bitterness they may have felt toward
each other out of their relationship with their only child.

A wave of pain washed over Gina as she thought of her own
annulment and the agony that surrounded it, and she clutched the back
of the pew ahead of her to steady herself. Oh, why had she been fool
enough to come today? Why hadn't she done something, anything, broken a
leg if necessary, to convince Stewart that she couldn't attend?

She felt a firm, soft hand cover hers and looked up to see
Twyla Sisson standing next to her, a look of concern on her round
pretty face. "Gina, are you all right?" she whispered. "You're white as
a ghost."

Gina wasn't the least sure she was all right, but she
managed a weak smile for Twyla, her teacher, employer, confidante, and
friend, and whispered back, "I'm okay, just a little too warm. It's
awfully stuffy in here."

Twyla didn't look convinced but said nothing more as the
guests resumed their seats and the bridal couple began taking their
vows.

Gina heard the vows from her own wedding. "Do you,
Virginia, take this man, Peter—?"

Oh yes, she most definitely had taken Peter Van Housen to
be her lawfully wedded husband. "To have and to hold—." But
of course that was what it had all been about, to have and to hold.
Their physical desire for each other had been all-consuming, but Gina's
strong midwestern bible belt upbringing had taught her that it was a
sin to have sex before marriage. It had taken all her strength to
resist Peter's pleas to go to bed with him, but finally he couldn't
stand the frustration any longer and had asked her to marry him. They'd
known each other less than six weeks when, over the objections of both
sets of parents, they'd repeated their wedding vows in front of a
handful of her friends and a church-full of San Francisco's wealthiest,
most socially prominent citizens. All strangers to her.

Four hours later her marriage and her world lay shattered
at her feet.

Abruptly a burst of organ music startled Gina out of her
reverie and she was appalled to discover that tears had welled in her
eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Cindy and her Bob, their faces
glowing with excitement, were coming back up the aisle as Gina fumbled
blindly in her purse for a handkerchief.

Beside her Twyla spoke in a voice tinged with alarm.
"Gina, honey, for heaven's sake what's the matter? Do you feel faint?"
She put her hand on Gina's arm. "Come on, let me help you out of here."

Gina found her handkerchief and dabbed at her swimming
eyes. "No, please Twyla, I don't want to cause a scene. Just sit
quietly and we'll leave when our turn comes."

Outside Gina breathed in the cool, moist ocean air and
blinked the last of the tears from her pain-filled eyes. Tears, for
heaven's sake! After seven years she could still shed tears over Peter
Van Housen! What an idiot she was. He wasn't worth one tear and she'd
shed buckets of them in the months following that disastrous day, but
she'd finally cried herself dry and vowed that no man would ever hurt
her that way again.

It hadn't been hard to keep men at a distance. She'd
poured all the love and passion she had to give into her relationship
with Peter and he had trampled it in the dust. There was none left, and
for that she was grateful. For five years after the annulment she had
dated only occasionally and she'd never gone out with the same man more
than twice. It was no sacrifice, after a golden god like Peter Van
Housen all other men were colorless and unexciting.

In spite of her resolve not to let it, an image of Peter
formed in her mind's eye. Tall, slender, with hair the color of
moonbeams and eyes the blue of the sea. His shoulders were broad, his
hips slim, and his thighs firm and muscular as revealed by the tight
jeans and slacks he wore.

The hair on his chest was surprisingly dark and she'd
teased him about it as she'd slowly wound her fingers through it,
giggling when she'd felt his heartbeat speed up. He'd called her a
tease and had kissed her with a thoroughness that had left her gasping.
She'd almost given herself to him that time. Would her life have been
different if she had?

Once more Twyla spoke her name and Gina shook her head to
dislodge the unwanted thoughts. "Do you want to stop in the rest room
before we go on to the hotel for the reception?" asked Twyla. "You
don't look at all well."

Gina smiled at her concerned friend. "I'm not going to be
sick if that's what you're afraid of, but I do need to repair my
make-up. Have you any idea where we can find a mirror?"

The mirror in the cramped little rest room wasn't very
well lighted, but Gina could see all she needed to. Her creamy flawless
skin required little make-up and her black mascara and mauve eye shadow
were waterproof so the tears had done little damage. She applied a
light film of powder and some blusher to camouflage the whiteness of
her face and ran a brush through her short raven curls.