Authors: Ann Cristy
"Oh,
shucks. I thought you were going to offer me Burt Reynolds." Cady chuckled
and pushed against his chest.
Off-balance
for a moment, Rafe wasn't able to stop her when she broke into a run.
"Games, is it? Fine with me."
Cady
was running as fast as she could, sure that she could beat Rafe to the house,
when she felt something catch her around the waist. She was laughing so hard
she couldn't even struggle when Rafe pulled her down on top of him. "How
did you catch me? You're in better shape than you should be." Cady scowled
down at him as he lay beneath her. They were in a brushy declivity, hidden from
the house and the lake but not far from the cliff overlooking the water.
"Make
love to me, Cady." Rafe's voice was hoarse.
"We
can't—not here. You'll catch cold."
"We're
hidden from the wind here and the sun is warm... so is the ground," Rafe
muttered, loosening her sweater and lifting it so he might caress her breasts with
his lips. "Did I ever tell you that I love your breasts?"
"You may
have mentioned it." Cady snuggled closer, loving the crisp softness of his
bare chest against her.
Rafe sheltered her
with his body when her clothes were removed. Cady felt safe and protected.
Their hands on each other were sure yet hesitant as they both strove to control
their own feelings and give the other satisfaction. Heat burned through the
control like a blast furnace gone mad.
Cady felt wild,
protective, loving, giving, wanting. Rafe's skin was as precious as platinum,
and when it touched her it turned her to gold. They were alone in the inferno,
cool in the middle of a fiery eye, serene in their love, calm in the center of
the storm.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Rafe
was reelected! The celebration had a Mardi Gras flavor, delighting Cady. Rafe
had deserved to win. He was the best man for New York. Cady knew that and was
happy when other people said the same thing. When they returned to Washington,
Rafe's staff was elated and gave a small party to welcome him back.
The
weeks after their return were busy ones for both of them, but Rafe and Cady
tried to make time for each other every day. Cady felt exhilarated by their
growing closeness. The marriage wasn't over, after all—on the contrary, it was
better than ever.
She
was in the rose garden of their home in Virginia one afternoon, snipping what
would be the last roses of the year. It was the end of November, and there was
a damp chill in the air. She had just cut a partly opened bud from the Peace
rosebush when Trock walked up to her carrying a package. Cady stopped what she
was doing to watch the two dogs who had been following her turn to greet the
attendant with soft barks and wagging tails.
"You've
even won Hobo to your side, Trock." Cady smiled at him and took the
proffered package, not looking at it. "Did you ever think these two would
become friends?" She looked down at the bull terrier sitting side by side
with the Doberman, their tongues hanging out of their mouths as though they
were grinning at her and understood what she was saying.
The
two animals were quite a contrast. The bull terrier was snow white now, almost
all the scars healing nicely though the gash on his nose still had a redness to
it, and his slanted eyes had a contented intelligence. Cady's research on the
breed had revealed that despite their ability to fight ferociously, they were
gentle animals, good as pets for both adults and children.
At
first the two male canines had given each other a wide berth. There had been a
hostile wariness in their manner, especially on the part of the Doberman, who
resented the intruder to his home. Gradually his reluctant acceptance gave way
to a cautious camaraderie that grew every day.
Trock
watched the two dogs in silence for a time. Then he inclined his head and
patted each animal, his facial muscles moving in the semblance of a smile.
"Maybe not at first. Graf was determined not to let anyone disturb his
domain, but when he found Hobo equally determined, they both backed down. Dogs
are smarter than people." Trock took a deep breath, making Cady smile. He
was not a man who liked speeches, and he would open up with no one except Cady
or Rafe. He pointed to the parcel in her hand. "They said it was special
delivery." Then he frowned at Cady. 'You've been out here long enough in
the cold. I'll walk the dogs a bit. You take the flowers and go inside."
Cady
looked down at the brown-paper-wrapped article in her hand. She turned it over
to see if there was a return address. There wasn't. She shrugged, lifted the
small pile of flowers into her basket, pocketed the rose snips in her coverall,
and strolled to the library door. She set the package on Rafe's desk and
carried the flowers to the kitchen, where the housekeeper took them from her
and said she would wash them and bring them in a vase to the library if Mrs.
Densmore would like to arrange them there.
Cady took her time showering and shampooing her hair. Her
thoughts were on Rafe and the quiet dinner they would have together this
evening. Bouillabaisse was one of his favorites, and Cady decided that they
would also have New York State champagne and the French rolls that Rafe was
addicted to.
She
dressed with care. Rafe's tastes were uppermost in her mind as she donned a
silky wool dress in a light purple that was one shade darker than her eyes. Her
medium-heel slings were a brown kid and even more comfortable than sneakers.
All at once she remembered the flowers that the housekeeper had put in the
library to be arranged, and she hurried from the room and down the stairs.
The
roses were there, next to the package. Checking first to see if the flowers had
plenty of water, Cady decided she would open the parcel before doing the arranging.
The strapping tape was troublesome to remove, but she was
finally able to unwrap the box. While she crumpled the paper and tape in her
hands before throwing it in the waste basket, she looked curiously at the
plain, unmarked box that appeared as though it might contain typing paper.
Whatever could it be? She lifted the cover and froze. She could actually feel
the blood in her body drain to her toes. Her hands and feet turned to ice. She
stared at the nude picture of herself, her head thrown back, her hands touching
her own body in a provocative way. She lifted the picture between thumb and
forefinger to look closer and found another one underneath it. Sure that she
must be hallucinating, she closed her eyes, then opened them again and resumed
perusing the pile of photographs. Each was more shocking than the last.
There
were more horrors under the first five pictures of Cady alone in promiscuous
poses. These were followed by pictures of Cady and… Oh, God! Cady felt the
contents of her stomach rise. She ran for the tiny powder room off the library
and threw up her lunch.
With
shaking hands she wiped her face and looked at the chalk-faced person who
stared back at her in the mirror. The purple bruises that were her eyes held a
wounded look. How could it be? How could there be pictures of her and Rob
Ardmore in lascivious poses? She staggered back to Rafe's desk in the library,
not even glancing at the hapless roses. There were more pictures of her and Rob
and... Cady almost fainted. There were pictures of her an'd Todd Leacock! What
was going on? With lifeless fingers she picked up the typewritten sheet that
had fluttered to the floor when she had picked up one of the pictures.
MRS.
DENSMORE: YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF. THESE PICTURES WILL BE SENT TO DAY
MAGAZINE. PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW HOW CORRUPT YOU PEOPLE CAN BE. YOU'LL RECEIVE A
PHONE CALL THIS EVENING AT SEVEN P.M.
Cady stared at the typed words, not really comprehending.
When the phone rang at her elbow, she let out a little scream.
"Cady,
love, it's me. I have to see Conroy on the Elkins land scheme. It looks like it
will run late. Forgive me? Cady?"
"Yes... of
course, Rafe. I understand."
"Angel, is
something wrong?"
"No...
Good-bye."
Cady
could sense Rafe's hesitancy, so she hung up quickly. Putting her face in her
hands, she began to shake. Who could have done this? Why?
She managed to
put Mrs. Lacey off when the housekeeper wanted to serve her some food. When
Trock asked to see her, Cady told Mrs. Lacey to tell him she was busy. She sat
in the darkening library, the box with the pictures clutched close to her
stomach.
When the housekeeper rang at seven to tell her there was a
call, Cady lifted the phone as though it had suddenly turned into a
rattlesnake. "Yes, this is Cady Dens-more."
"Recognize
my voice, Cady? It's Todd Leacock."
Cady snapped
straight in her chair, thinking of the pictures she held in her hand,
remembering the photos of her and Todd. "Why are you calling here?"
She couldn't seem to clear the hoarseness from her throat as she waited with a
sense of doom for his answer.
"Come on, Cady. You were always such a smart girl in
college. Prudish, but smart." Todd's laugh was harsh.
"Did
you send those pictures?" Cady fought the quaver in her voice.
"Admit
you never looked lovelier, Cady."
She could almost
see the leer on his face. "I never posed for those pictures. You could go
to prison for doing such a thing."
"I
remember you posing for them, Cady. I remember photographing you and
Congressman Ardmore, too. You never seemed to mind being seen naked with
him."
"You're
a liar." Cady tried to stifle the spasm in her mouth by biting her lips.
"It's
your word against mine, lady. I have nothing to lose if these pictures come
out. You do."
"What are
you saying?" Her lips were pasteboard.
"I'm saying
that I don't mind if the pictures become public knowledge. If you do, then you
should be willing to cooperate with the electorate in your state. There are
certain things we want done, and your husband is dragging his heels. If you
persuade him to help us in our endeavors... then you can have the pictures and
the negatives and do what you want with them."
"There are laws to punish blackmailers in this country."
Cady licked her lips. They felt like papier-mache.
"Don't
use dirty words, Cady," Todd warned. "I get angry when people try to
push me around."
"You're
crazy," she whispered. "You know those pictures are faked. Why are
you doing this?"
"I told
you. A few people and myself want your husband to back down on this
environmental bill for the Hudson and Lake Ontario. That's all we want, Cady.
You can handle that. After all, it means more work for the state, more money—"
"To line
the pockets of certain men with vested interests, such as Greeley and his
boys," Cady hissed, her voice grim.
"I didn't
mention any names, Cady."
"You didn't
have to. This is a crime, Todd. Get out of it while you—"
"You
talk to me about crime! You and all that Dens-more money! Why should you have so
much and I have so little? Do you think old Emmett Densmore made his money
honestly? Damn it, you know he didn't. So what's the difference if I dip into
the honey pot for my share?"
"You know
it's wrong. Todd, listen to—"
"No, you
listen, Cady. Get your husband to back down or the pictures come out. I'm not
kidding."
The
phone slammed in Cady's ear, making her blink. She held the receiver in her
hand until she heard the dial tone, then she set it very carefully on the
cradle. Wrapping her arms around her body, she sat there rocking, pulling
herself into a nearly fetal position. Her mind fragmented into panic, frozen
into stillness. Perhaps if Rafe had come home at that moment, she would have
blurted out the whole thing to him, poured her anguish and fears into the open,
but she was alone.
She had no
concept of time passing when her hand reached for the telephone. She dialed the
number in a stupor, almost surprised when she heard Rob Ardmore's voice. She
had to tell him he was involved in this. He said hello twice before she
responded. "It's Cady, Rob. I'm in terrible trouble." Her mouth had
difficulty with the words, but finally she was able to tell Rob the bare
outline of what had happened.
"Cady.
Cady, listen to me. Don't give in. I'm coming over right away. There's always a
way to fight this sort of thing."
For the second time that evening the phone went dead in her
ear before her numb arm had replaced the receiver.