Forbidden Son (6 page)

In
an instant, his father’s face reminded him of a puffed-up toad with a bad case
of constipation. “The hell, you say. I won’t have you throwing away law school
for some cheap skirt wanting to latch on to the Hartwell fortune.”

Tripp
threw his father an irritated glance and enunciated clearly, “My plans haven’t
changed, Dad. I’m merely adding a wife to the mix. And, so you know, Honey Belle
isn’t cheap, nor is she after money.”

His
father leaned back and gripped the chair’s arms. “This girl in the family way?”

It
was like his father not to mince words—to get straight to the point. “No, sir.”
At least Tripp hoped there wasn’t a baby in the oven from their first time
making love, and the many times that had followed the same night. Thinking
about how her blonde hair had shimmered in the moonlight, and the touch of her
silken skin caused him to readjust his position in the chair.

His
father’s face never got beet red unless his anger was near erupting. “If the
girl isn’t in the family way, then why the rush to get married, and what do you
know about this girl,
and
her family?”

“I’m
not rushing, Dad. We haven’t discussed a date. Not yet.” Squaring his
shoulders, Tripp added, “I think Honey Belle would make a beautiful Christmas
bride.” He decided to shift the focus from his father. “What do you think,
Mother—a Christmas wedding?”

His
mother’s eyes took on a dreamy glow. Like a cloud blotted out by the sun, she
shifted from a sensible, intelligent woman who ran an efficient home and
chaired the local women’s historical society to an angelic child reaching out
to catch imaginary butterflies. He hated the dementia stealing her away piece
by piece like a thief.

His
father bellowed, “Pearlie Mae, fetch Mrs. Hartwell’s tonic.” He cut a mean eye
toward his son. “Your mother is in no condition to plan a party or a wedding.
I’m afraid this announcement of yours might be the boulder that pushes her over
the edge.”

“I’m
sorry. I never meant to—” Tossing the linen napkin to the table, Tripp pushed
from the chair. “Under the circumstances, perhaps we should cancel our golf
game.”

Likewise,
his father tossed his napkin to the table. “I’ll call the doctor.” As he left
the room, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll save this discussion until
later.”

“No
we won’t, Dad. There’s nothing to discuss. I fully intend to marry Honey Belle
Garrett.”

Neither
one of them moved as they faced each other. Tripp’s muscles seemed frozen.
Logic told him it wasn’t anything he’d said that had caused his mother to drift
away. Nonetheless, guilt flooded over him. “I’ll help Mother to her room and
sit with her until Dr. Weston arrives.”

For
a long time all they could do was stare at each other, until his father
relinquished. Tripp denied an inner stab of pain. “I didn’t create this
situation, Dad. We have to both come to terms with the facts...we’re losing
Mother.”

The
Judge scrubbed a hand across his face. The deep furrowed frown on his brow
suddenly ironed out. He drew a shuddering breath that seemed to come from
hidden depths. “We’ll deal with all these issues next week, when you return
home from Massachusetts. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“No,
Dad, you’re the standing judge in the Ferrell murder case. The trial starts the
same day I leave.”

The
Judge’s eyes grew shadowed. “Then we’ll agree to disagree.”

Obviously
unaware of the tension between father and son, the maid said, “Sorry to
interrupt, Mr. Tripp, but I need help with your mama.”

The
Judge waved Tripp toward the landing. “Go. I’ll call the doctor.”

And
Tripp took the stairs.

Two
by two.

Chapter
Nine

Over
the next few days, Honey Belle managed to tuck away the doubts her mother had
heaped on her. She decided not to tell Tripp about her mother’s nasty
accusations. Doing so might prompt questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

On
Sunday, she dressed with care. Without a word to her mother, she left the house
and drove to the gas station. She pulled behind the station’s garage and parked
in the usual place. She’d allowed herself enough time to walk the two miles
without working up a sweat.

In
front of the Barrington Street house, she stood under the elm tree and waited.

****

Tripp
had misgivings as he pointed the car down Barrington Street. He wanted to hope
and believe in happy endings. Since meeting Honey Belle, his life had become a
series of emotional highs and lows. His entire life had been shaped and molded
by family tradition. In college, he’d played the field, never allowing any one
woman to get close to him. Now he’d fallen in love. Sure, he’d been intimate,
more than once, but he knew the difference between infatuation and the real
thing.

Now
he needed to steer a straight course in between foolish passion and love, reminding
himself that a little distance for a short period of time would do them both
good.

He
pulled alongside the curb and, leaving the engine running, he shifted the gear
stick into park. He opened the door and stepped out. “I believe I owe you
dinner.”

“I’d
like that,” Honey Belle said. And then there was his mouth searching for hers.

At
last he drew a breath. “Shall we go?” he said, burning her with a hot glance.

His
eyes promised more than dinner.

****

“Will
you excuse me, Tripp? I need to powder my nose.”

“Shall
I order you a glass of wine?”

Honey
Belle sent him a dazzling smile. “Yes.”

Moments
later, he was lifting the glass of chardonnay to his mouth when his eyes caught
a movement. He lowered the glass slowly. He’d never seen Honey Belle look so
out-and-out sexy. The word exquisite came to mind.

She
smiled as she made her way across the crowded restaurant. He could see the avid
expression on the other men’s faces—which she ignored. No doubt about it, Honey
Belle was a knockout. She had no conceit, no concept of her own perfection.
Perhaps that’s what drew him to her. She was beyond the perfect alignment of
facial features, the graceful lines and generous curves of her body. She was
Honey Belle.

Their
eyes met and held in the reflection of the glass, and she blushed—her composure
obviously shaken by the warmth of his gaze.

She
slid into the chair across the table from him.

Tripp
leaned close and murmured, “You know, it’s occurred to me I want to feed you
and then take you to bed.”

Her
answer nearly knocked him off the chair. “I want you to.”

He
laughed. “You are most unique, Honey Belle Garrett.”

There
was live entertainment—a bluesy singer at a piano. A warm breeze and the
cadence of the waves kissing the shoreline seemed to match the rhythm of the
music. It was an intimate setting for lovers.

They
ordered dinner, a cup of New England clam chowder, almond fried grouper,
parsley potatoes, and sautéed mushrooms. A dish of chocolate ice cream
completed the delicious meal, washed down by a fine vintage wine.

The
orchestra was playing a slow piece. “Do you think we can dance to this?” Tripp
asked, impatient to hold Honey Belle in his arms.

“We
can try.” She wore heels, which brought her almost up to his height. When they
danced, she couldn’t avoid his eyes. Eyes that seemed to drink her up,
swallowing her whole. Their bodies fit, moving slowly to the music, a prelude
to another dance. When his hand slipped to the small of her back and drew her
closer, a small gasp escaped her. She couldn’t contain a shudder of pleasure.

Tripp
nuzzled her ear and felt the heat in her face as she flushed deliciously. “This
feels nice,” he said, his voice husky, not making any effort to hide the effect
she had on him. It was too late for pretence now, far too late. “How about a
walk on the beach—I brought the blanket.”

“Mmm.”
Honey Belle pulled him close. “Then I think we should leave, now.”

When
he raised his head to look into her eyes, he saw naked hunger there and knew
his eyes must betray the same dazed expression.

****

Honey
Belle and Tripp walked hand in hand down the long stretch of beach, far away
from the restaurant, until reaching their special place. Lightning cut across
the sky, promising an August storm.

An
ominous feeling loomed over Honey Belle when Tripp said, “It’s too bad you
can’t get off work tomorrow. I’d like for you to see me off at the airport.”

“I
wish you didn’t have to go, Tripp.”

“Don’t
worry,” he chided. “I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

“How
long will you be gone?”

“A
week. Maybe longer, if I can’t find an apartment right away.”

A
painful lump formed in her throat. “A week seems like forever, Tripp.”

He
hugged her close. “I told my parents about us—our engagement. When I get home,
we’ll shop for the perfect ring to place on your long slender finger.”

A
little gasp slipped out. She whispered, “What did your parents say?”

“The
usual concerns. Mostly afraid I won’t finish law school.”

“What
did you say?”

“I
assured them there is nothing to worry about.”

“Tripp,
what if your parents don’t like me? I mean, it isn’t as if we’re both from the
same social circles.” Honey Belle knew truer words had never been spoken. His
parents would never accept a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. How would
Tripp react when he found out?

Humor
laced his face as he lifted her hands to his lips. “I love you, and that’s all
that matters.”

She
wanted to latch onto him and never let go. No matter how hard she tried, she
couldn’t shake her mother’s words.
He’ll never marry you.

“Hold
me, Tripp.”

She
didn’t realize she was crying until he thumbed a tear from her cheek. “Hey, why
the tears? Meeting my parents is no big deal.”

No
matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t conjure up a smile. Yet the feeling
went on, despite herself. “I’m being silly.” She patted his chest. “I hope you
find a nice apartment with a yard. I’d love to have a puppy to keep me company
while you’re attending class.”

“You
won’t have time for a dog, Honey Belle.”

“Oh,
why’s that?”

“You’re
going to school, too, remember? Studying doesn’t leave much time for a pet.”

Without
another word they came together. Entwining his muscular legs around her body,
he held her captive. “Besides, I plan to keep you plenty busy.”

She
surrendered peacefully, and snuggled close to him. She teased, “Keep me busy
doing what?”

“Doing—this.”

His
mouth sought hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he put
his arms around her, drawing her close. She leaned against him, allowing all
her tension to ebb away. She needed his reassurances.

He
slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, ran his fingers across her bare
shoulders. “Every time I touch you my world lights up.”

“Mama
always said I should save myself for the right man. You are perfect for me.”
Old doubts crept in. A marriage built on a lie was a sham. She needed to tell
him she wasn’t who he thought she was—that she was an imposter.

Not
tonight. Tonight was special.

He
leaned over and kissed the tender place where her throat curved into her
shoulder. She didn’t want their love to be an empty wasteland of sex.

The
moon broke through the clouds and cast its light over Tripp’s face, outlining
the chiseled features of his cheekbones.

“Hmm,”
he hummed, sending vibrations streaming through her. “You feel incredible.” His
voice was muffled by the fact that his mouth pressed against her neck.

A
sense of euphoria swept over her, and all thoughts of a confession flew from
her mind. “You do, too.” She tried to gather her wits while at the same time
feeling like a feline in heat.

“Tripp,
will you have tons of homework at law school?”

He
moved away an inch, his face close to hers. “I suppose so. There’ll be cases to
research and long nights at the law library.”

“It
sounds like after we’re married you’ll not have time for—”

He
pressed her back against the blanket and slid inside her. “For this?”

Shivering,
her heartbeat quickened and her breath grew heavy. His lips were like moist
drops of dew caressing her skin. Her body flamed and her flesh ached. “Yes,
Tripp, for this.”

A
little voice inside her head chided her that she shouldn’t be here like this,
with him. A proper young lady waited until her wedding night to surrender her
virginity. But she had already surrendered that sacred part of her. She hoped
she wouldn’t live to regret giving in to her impetuous desire.

Tripp’s
passion stole the breath from her throat. Loving him and wanting him, she clung
to his shoulders, matching his thrusts and yielding to the desire that flamed
inside her.

His
lips grew more demanding, his kisses more intense. She nipped the column of his
neck. “You taste good.”

He
groaned deep inside his throat. “So do you.”

She
shivered as a warm sea breeze wafted over her sweat-drenched body, and allowed
desire to pool within her.

Their
loving slowed to a gentler pace, laced with unfurling desire, then grew and grew,
then turned to pleasure—more intense than ever before.

They
made love, giving and taking, expressing what they felt while the words
remained unspoken, locked in their hearts.

She
wasn’t worthy enough to be his wife, yet she loved Tripp Hartwell the Third
with all her heart and soul.

Her
mother had a saying,
Out of sight, out of mind.
What if Tripp decided to
stay in Massachusetts and never return to South Carolina?

Honey
Belle’s head spun. Her mind went blank. She was lost in a crescendo of
confusion.