If Ever I Loved You (11 page)

Peter reached over and clasped his hand around her
nylon-clad ankle. "Lie down beside me, Gina," he commanded softly.

His touch sent a tremor up her leg and she had an
unreasoning desire to do as he asked. To stretch out beside him in the
privacy afforded by the huge tree trunk and surrounding bushes. She
remembered the times they had lain together, on the beach, on the sofa,
even in the car, while he'd made love to her. Slowly at first, only a
touch, but building in passion until it took every ounce of will power
she possessed to stop him before the final, irrevocable union of their
trembling bodies.

She shivered and tried to move her foot but he wouldn't
release it. Instead he renewed his request. "Curl up here on the grass
and rest for a while."

"No," she said brusquely.

He rolled over on his side and propped his head up on his
elbow. "Come here, Gina."

He let loose of her ankle and ran his fingers lightly
along her bare arm. She had discarded her cardigan earlier, but now she
wished she hadn't as his touch on her skin seemed to melt all of her
resistance.

"I won't hurt you, I just want you near me," he pleaded in
that soft, sexy tone, and she sank to the ground, mesmerized by blue
eyes grown dark with yearning.

His finger traced the planes and hollows of her delicate,
triangular-shaped face as he studied her changing expressions closely.
The feathery strokes created a delicious tickling sensation against her
creamy complexion, then changed direction to follow the line of her jaw.

"My beautiful, tantalizing wife," he murmured dreamily.
"Most women lose that dewy freshness as the years go by, but you're
even lovelier than you were at eighteen."

She knew she should stop him, but she couldn't seem to
raise her hand to brush his away. Instead she protested half-heartedly,
"I'm not your wife."

"Yes you are." His finger moved to the sensitive spot
behind her ear. "The marriage hasn't been consummated but you're
legally my wife and I want you. I want you almost as bad as I did the
day we were married."

He picked up her right hand and placed it against his
chest. "Here, feel."

She could feel the fast beat of his heart beneath the thin
shirt he wore. She was also aware of the mat of dark blond hair that
she had so often run her fingers through in the past. She'd always
wondered why the hair on his chest was so much darker than the hair on
his head, which in those days had been almost platinum.

Before she realized what he was doing he'd unbuttoned his
shirt and moved her hand inside to rest against the warmth of his nude
flesh. She tried to pull away but he kept his hand over hers until,
with a mind of its own, it began to move caressingly through the tangle
of hair. Immediately she felt his heartbeat speed up and he grinned
down at her. "See what you do to me?" he whispered.

Her gaze locked with his and she gasped as she felt his
hand on her left breast. His heartbeat was erratic now as was her own.
He leaned over and nuzzled the sensitive spot at the side of her throat
and she quivered with desire. At the same time his heart was turning
somersaults under her touch.

He raised his head and put his mouth against her ear.
"Your heart is pounding as hard as mine." His voice was thick with
suppressed passion. "We strike sparks off each other, sweetheart, that
light fires we can only quench together. Come live with me, Gina. It
doesn't matter that we don't love each other, we'll get along great in
bed and that's all that really counts in a marriage."

The strident sound of the train whistle rent the air and
brought them both upright. They scrambled to their feet and started
searching for the children among the crowd of people waiting to board
the train again to continue their journey across the mountains to
Willits.

She was devoutly thankful for that whistle. Without it
there was no telling what she might have agreed to!

As they started the second leg of their journey, Gina
curled up on her end of the bench seat and tried to quiet her still
racing heart. Why, oh why did she allow Peter to arouse her so? Even as
she asked the question she knew she had no choice in the matter. He'd
always had that effect on her, and in spite of the hell he'd put her
through her body still responded to him even though her brain told her
to cool it. So much for the power of intellect over emotion!

She was glad they weren't sitting together. She needed
time away from that openly sensuous gaze of his to try to regroup her
defenses. Why didn't he leave her alone? He still thought she intended
to marry Stewart.

That was probably what motivated him, the preposterous
idea that she could want to belong to another man. Peter didn't love
her, but he wasn't about to let any other man have her. Well, she'd
show him. She wasn't going to let the undeniable sexual attraction she
felt for him ruin her life again. No way!

After leaving Northspur the climb was rapid, seven hundred
and one feet in nine miles with horseshoe curves as much as twenty-five
degrees, according to their pretty little tour guide. At one point they
could look down from the first car and see the last car far below just
starting to make the turn.

The children kept Gina and Peter occupied with their
persistent questions and chatter. Finally after something over an hour
the train reached the one-thousand-seven-hundred-and-forty-foot summit,
roared through another tunnel, and started the four-and-a-half-mile
descent down the other side of the mountain range to Willets.

It was hot in the small city at the eastern end of the
Skunk Line. At least twenty degrees hotter than it had been on the
coast earlier that morning, but they had all dressed for the swift
change of climate. Peter and the children, like Gina, had worn cool
shirts under sweaters which they removed as the weather got warm. Some
of the passengers had brought picnic lunches and headed for the nearby
park, but Peter herded his group to a restaurant across the street from
the historic depot.

The cafe was small, but tables had also been set up on the
covered patio and it was here that Peter, Gina and the youngsters were
seated after the obligatory wait in line. It was warmer there than in
the air-conditioned dining room but climbing vines over latticework
walls and strategically placed green plants provided a garden setting
that kept it from being uncomfortable. Sonja and Johnny wanted
hamburgers again, but this time Peter insisted they eat clam chowder
and a fruit salad and refused to order them dessert. Even so they
barely had time to eat and get back to the depot before the train
pulled out and headed west.

Peter turned his and Johnny's seat around so the four of
them could face each other on the return trip. But this time the
children were too tired to argue and when they again reached Northspur
both were curled up on a seat sound asleep, Sonja with her head in
Gina's lap, and Johnny with his head in Peter's. Gina was aware of
Peter's gaze on her, but she steadfastly refused to meet it as she sat
absently watching the lush green forest rush by her window and stroking
the blonde curls of the little girl in her lap.

As they slowed for the approach into Fort Bragg Peter
finally spoke. "If I were an artist I'd paint you as a madonna. There's
a radiance about you when you hold a sleeping child. Do you want babies
of your own?"

The hypnotizing sway of the train combined with the steady
clack-clack of the wheels had lulled Gina into letting down her guard
and she spoke without thinking, or remembering her broken engagement.
"Oh yes, but Stewart has a grown daughter. I don't think he wants more
children."

Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said, and
she saw the pain that flashed across his face as he winced. Then he
quickly brought it under control and his features were expressionless
as he said, "When you have children, my bewitching wife, it's not going
to be Stewart Tobias who fathers them, it's going to be me and don't
you forget it!"

For days Gina tried to erase Peter Van Housen from her
thoughts, but his words kept vibrating through her mind.
When
you have children it's going to be me who fathers them
! They
brought alternating chills and hot flashes, and she cursed the day her
ex-husband re-entered her life.

But there was the problem. Peter wasn't her ex-husband, he
was a very real and
present
husband who fully
intended to claim all his marital rights, and what terrified her during
sleepless nights and anxious days was the humiliating knowledge that
she wanted him to. Even after he'd deserted her more or less at the
altar following the ceremony, had reviled her and refused to believe
her plausible explanation, thought she was a liar and a cheat, the idea
of bearing his children could still make her burn with longing for him.

She felt cheap and ashamed. He neither loved nor respected
her, but she aroused his male passion with an uncomfortable urgency and
he wanted it appeased. In return he was willing to lower his high standards and
allow her to keep the exalted Van Housen name and act as his wife; it
was easier than looking around for an appealing young virgin with an
impeccable pedigree. Virgins were in short supply these days!

Early the next morning Gina received a transatlantic phone
call from her parents in Germany. Since Peter's assertion that he had
written to her after their breakup seven years ago, she had tried
several times to get in touch with Joe and Esther, but they had been on
an extended vacation touring the countries of Europe in their tiny
Volkswagen and had been unavailable. Now they had returned from their
tour of Europe and wanted to share their experiences with their only
child.

Joe spoke in his usual slow concise style, but Esther
bubbled with excitement. She had enthusiastically described the sights
in France, Italy and Austria before Gina was able to get in a word.
"Mama, slow down a minute, there's something I want to ask you."

"Sure, honey," Esther said, "what is it?"

"Did I ever receive a letter from Peter Van Housen at your
address after I started at the University of Maryland?"

For a moment there was silence on the other end of the
line halfway around the world from Gina's apartment in Mendocino, and
she held her breath and told herself it really didn't matter one way or
the other.

"Why on earth do you want to bring that old scandal up,
Ginny Lea," Esther answered sharply. "Haven't you suffered enough over
that—that rat!"

It wasn't like her mother to be evasive. Gina's hands
began to tremble. "Mama, please, it's important. I've seen Peter again
and he tells me he wrote to me twice after we left San Francisco and
asked that the letters be forwarded. Did they come to the house?"

"Well what if they did?" Her mother sounded petulant, like
a child caught in a minor transgression. "He'd hurt you enough and you
never did have any common sense where that young man was concerned.
Your daddy had gone to a lot of trouble to get transferred clear across
the country so you'd be away from him. He had no right to send you
letters."

Gina could feel the blood drain from her face and she
gripped the telephone. "Wh—what did you do with them?" she
demanded, a little breathless with shock.

"Well I—I" Esther stammered. "Ginny Lea, I'm
your mother and it was up to me to protect you from your carnal
desires. Peter Van Housen was no good!"

"Mama," Gina said through gritted teeth. "What did you do
with those letters? Do you still have them?"

Just because Peter wrote to her didn't necessarily mean
he'd said anything she'd want to hear. Maybe he'd only wanted to
harangue her further. If only her mother still had the letters she'd
know for sure what was in them.

Her momentary surge of hope was dashed as Esther answered
defiantly. "I burned them, that's what I did with them. Oh, don't
worry, I didn't open them, I just took them down to the basement and
threw them in the furnace. It was all for the best, Ginny Lea, you know
it was—"

Gina hung up the phone.

The streets were crowded with the usual influx of weekend
tourists later that morning when Gina took a break and walked around
the corner and up the hill to the pastry shop for a loaf of warm,
freshly baked bread. As she pushed open the door her senses were
enticed by the savory aroma of baking cinnamon rolls, apple strudel,
and pumpkin spice cake, and the empty feeling in her stomach reminded
her that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She'd been too upset after the
conversation with her mother to think of food, and now, several hours
later, she was ravenous.

If she needed an excuse to indulge herself with fresh
pastry and a cup of coffee she found it in Twyla who was standing at
the glass counter eyeing the goodies. Gina walked over to stand beside
her and said, "I'll buy the jelly-filled doughnuts and coffee if you
have time to sit and talk for a few minutes."

Twyla assumed a pained expression. "It's bribery, pure and
simple. You want to pick my brilliant mind and bask in my sunny
disposition but never let it be said that I turned down a jelly
doughnut. You get them and I'll get the coffee."

They settled down at a small round table on the sunny
redwood deck at the front of the shop. Gina kept her left hand in her
lap as she sipped her coffee and said, "I talked to my parents this
morning. Mama admitted that I had received two letters from Peter
shortly after we moved from San Francisco and she burned them without
saying anything to me."

Twyla muttered a curse. "Did she read them first? Do you
know what he said?"

"No." Gina ran her fingers through her short black hair.
"I never would have believed Mama would do such a thing!"

Twyla shrugged. "You were very young at the time and you
had been badly hurt. She probably thought she was protecting you."