Shades of Twilight (9 page)

“Are you still eating?” he teased with mock amazement, green eyes twinkling.

“Got to keep my strength up,” she said, striving for her usual flippancy, but she couldn't quite achieve it. There was a somberness in her tone that she couldn't hide, and Webb gave her a sharp glance.

“What've you done now?” he asked, taking a glass down from the cabinet and opening the refrigerator door to pour himself some iced tea.

“Nothing unusual,” she assured him, and even managed a wry, crooked smile. “I opened my big mouth at lunch, and both Grandmother and Aunt Gloria are mad at me.”

“So what did you say this time?”

“We were talking about cars, and I said that I wanted one of the Pontiac Grand Pricks.”

His broad shoulders heaved as he controlled a spasm of laughter, turning it into a cough. He dropped into the chair beside her. “My God, Ro.”

“I know.” She sighed. “It just popped out. Aunt Gloria made one of her snide remarks about the way I eat, and I wanted to get her goat.” She paused. “It worked.”

“What did Aunt Lucinda do?”

“She sent me from the table. I haven't seen her since.” She picked at the roll, reducing it to a pile of crumbs, until
Webb's strong hand suddenly covered hers and stilled the movements.

“Had you eaten anything before you left the table?” he asked, and there was a stern tone in his voice now.

She made a face, knowing what was coming. “Sure. I had a roll and some tuna.”

“A whole roll? How much tuna?”

“Well, probably not an entire roll.”

“More than you've eaten of this one?”

She eyed the demolished bread on her plate, as if judiciously weighing each crumb, and was relieved to be able to say, “More than that.”

It wasn't much more, but more was more. His expression told her he wasn't fooled, but he let that slide for now. “All right. How much tuna? How many bites?”

“I didn't
count
them!”

“More than two?”

She tried to remember. She knew she'd taken a couple of bites just to show Aunt Gloria that her verbal swipe had fallen short of the mark. She might try to evade the truth, but she wouldn't lie outright to Webb, and he knew it, so he would continue to pin her down with explicitness. With a little sigh she said, “About two, I guess.”

“Did you eat anything afterward? Until now, that is?”

She shook her head.

“Ro.” He turned his chair toward hers and put his arm around her thin shoulders, hugging her to him. His heat and strength enveloped her the way it always had. Roanna burrowed her untidy head against that broad shoulder, bliss overtaking her. When she'd been young, Webb's hugs had been a haven for a terrified, unwanted little girl. She was older now, and the quality of her delight had changed. There was a heady, faintly musky scent to his skin that made her heart beat faster, and made her want to cling to him.

“You have to eat, baby,” he said cajolingly, but with a firm undertone. “I know you get upset and lose your
appetite, but I can tell that you've lost even more weight. You're going to damage your health if you don't start eating more.”

“I know what you're thinking,” she charged, lifting her head from his shoulder to scowl at him. “But I don't make myself throw up or anything like that.”

“My God, how could you? There's never anything in your stomach to be thrown up. If you don't eat, soon you won't have the strength to work with the horses. Is that what you want?”

“No!”

“Then eat.”

She looked at the chicken leg, her expression miserable. “I try, but I don't like the taste of most food, and p-people are always criticizing how I eat and the food turns into this big wad that I can't swallow.”

“You ate toast this morning with me and swallowed just fine.”

“You don't yell at me or make fun of me,” she muttered.

He stroked her hair, pushing the dark chestnut strands away from her face. Poor little Ro. She had always hungered for Aunt Lucinda's approval, but was too rebellious to modify her behavior to get it. Maybe she was right; it wasn't as if she was a juvenile delinquent or anything like that. She was just different, a quirky wildflower growing in the middle of a sedate, well-ordered southern rose garden, and no one knew quite what to make of her. She shouldn't have to beg for her family's love or approval; Aunt Lucinda should just love her for what she was. But for Aunt Lucinda, perfection was her other granddaughter, Jessie, and she had always made it plain that Roanna fell short in every category. Webb's mouth tightened. In his opinion, Jessie was far from perfect, and he was sick and tired of waiting for her to grow out of some of that selfishness.

Jessie's attitude, too, had a lot to do with Roanna's inability to eat. He had let this rock on for years while he devoted himself to the herculean task of learning how to run Davencourt and all the Davenport business concerns, packing
four years of college into three and then going after his master's degree in business, but it was obvious now that the situation
wasn't
going to resolve itself. For Roanna's sake, he was going to have to put his foot down, with Aunt Lucinda as well as Jessie.

Roanna needed calm, peaceful surroundings where her nerves could settle down and her stomach relax. If Aunt Lucinda and Jessie—and now Aunt Gloria, too—wouldn't or couldn't let up on the criticism that they constantly leveled at Roanna, then he wouldn't let Roanna eat with them. Aunt Lucinda had always insisted that they be at the table together, that Roanna conform to social standards, but he was going to override her on this. If she would eat better with her meals served on a tray in the peacefulness of her bedroom, or even out in the stables if she preferred, then that was where she'd have them. If being separated from the family made her feel exiled, rather than the relief he thought it would be, then he'd eat out in the stable with her. This simply couldn't go on, because Roanna was starving herself to death.

Impulsively he scooped her onto his lap, the way he'd done when she was a youngster. She was about five-seven now, but not a lot heavier, and fear clutched at him as he encircled her alarmingly frail wrist with his long fingers. This little cousin had always appealed to his protective side, and what he had always loved best about her was her pluckiness, her willingness to fight back without regard for the consequences. She was full of wit and mischief, if only Aunt Lucinda would stop trying to obliterate those very traits.

She had always snuggled up to him like a kitten and did so now automatically, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. A faint twinge of physical awareness surprised him, making his dark eyebrows draw together in a puzzled frown.

He looked down at her. Roanna was woefully immature for her age, without the normal social skills and defenses teenagers developed in the course of interacting with each other. Faced with disapproval and rejection at home as well
as at school, Roanna had responded by withdrawing, so she had never learned how to interact with the kids in her age group. Because of that, subconsciously he had always thought of her as still being a child in need of his protection, and maybe she did still need it. But even if she wasn't quite an adult, physically she was no longer a child either.

He could see the curve of her cheek, her long, dark lashes, the translucence of her temple where the fragile blue veins lay just beneath the surface. The texture of her skin was smooth, silky, and carried the sweet warm scent of womanhood. Her breasts were very small but very firm, and he could feel the nipple, as small and hard as a pencil eraser, of the breast that was nestled against him in her half-turned position. The twinge of awareness intensified into a sudden, definite throb in his loins, and he was abruptly conscious of how round her buttocks were and how they nestled so sweetly on his thighs.

He barely bit back a growl as he shifted her a little, just enough that the side of her hip wasn't rubbing against his hardening penis. Roanna was remarkably innocent for her age, having never dated; he doubted she had ever even been kissed. She had no idea what she was doing to him, and he didn't want to embarrass her. It was his fault for taking her on his lap as if she were still a kid. He'd just have to be more careful from now on, though this was probably a fluke. It had been over four months since he'd had sex with Jessie, because he'd gotten so damn sick and tired of her trying to manipulate him with her body. Their encounters weren't about making love; they were a contest of domination. Hell, he doubted Jessie even understood the concept of making love, of the mutual giving of pleasure. But he was young and healthy, and four months of denial had left him extremely edgy, so much so that even Roanna's skinny body could arouse him.

He jerked his mind back to the issue at hand. “Let's make a deal,” he said. “I promise that no one else will say anything to you about how you eat, and if anyone does, you
tell me and I'll take care of it. And you, sugar, will start eating regular meals. Just for me. Promise.”

She looked up at him, and her whiskey brown eyes held that soft, adoring glow she reserved for him. “All right,” she whispered. “For you.” Before he had any inkling what she was going to do, she curved her arm around his neck and pressed her sweet, soft, innocent mouth against his.

From the moment he'd scooped her onto his lap, Roanna had been almost breathless with longing and intense excitement. Her love for him flooded her, making her want to moan with pleasure at his touch, at the way he was holding her so close. She rubbed her cheek against his shirt, and felt the heat and resilience of his flesh beneath the fabric. Her nipples throbbed, and blindly she pressed hard against his chest. The resulting sensation was so acute that it shot straight down between her legs, and she had to clench her thighs against the heat.

Then she felt it, that sudden hardness against her hip, and with a thrill she realized what it was. She had seen a naked man for the first time that afternoon, and the shock of the act she'd witnessed had left her weak and nauseated, but this was different. This was Webb. And this meant he wanted her.

The realization shattered her with delight. She stopped thinking. He moved her so that she couldn't feel him against her hip anymore, and he was talking. She watched him, her gaze fastened on his beautiful mouth, barely absorbing his words. He wanted her to eat, just for him.

“All right,” she whispered. “For you.” She would do anything for him. Then the longing grew so intense she couldn't hold it back any longer, and she did what she had wanted to do for so long that it seemed like her entire life had been spent craving this. She put her arm around his neck and kissed him.

His lips were firm and warm, and hinted of a tantalizing taste that made her quiver with need. She felt him jerk, as if
startled, felt his hands move to her waist and tighten as if he would lift her away from him. “No,” she sobbed, suddenly terrified that he would push her away. “Webb, please. Hold me.” And she tightened her hold on him and kissed him even harder, shyly daring to lick his lips the way she'd seen it done in a movie.

He quivered, a long shudder running through his muscled body, and his hands clenched on her. “Ro—” he began, and her tongue slipped in between his opened lips.

He groaned, his entire body tensing. Then suddenly his mouth opened and moved, and control of the kiss was no longer hers. His arms closed around her, hard, and his tongue moved deep into her mouth. Roanna's neck bent back under the pressure, and her senses dimmed under the onslaught. She had thought about kissing, even practiced it on her pillow at night, but she hadn't realized a kiss could make her feel so hot and weak, or that his taste would be so delicious, or that the feel of him against her would unleash such terrible longing. She twisted on his lap, seeking to get closer, and fiercely he turned her so that her breasts were against his chest.

“You two-timing bastard!”

The shriek battered Roanna's ears. She leaped from Webb's lap, her face white as she pivoted to face her cousin. Jessie's features were twisted with rage as she stood just inside the door, glaring at them, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

Webb got to his feet. Dull red stained his cheeks, but his gaze was steady as he too faced his wife. “Calm down,” he said in an even tone. “I can explain.”

“I just bet you can,” she sneered. “This should be good. Damn you, no wonder you haven't been interested in touching me! All this time you've been fucking this stupid little whore!”

A red mist edged Roanna's vision. After what Jessie had been doing this afternoon, how dare she talk to Webb like this over a kiss! Without realizing she even moved, suddenly she found herself in front of Jessie, and she shoved
her against the wall so hard that her head slammed against it.

“Roanna, stop it!” Webb said sharply, catching her and roughly setting her aside.

Jessie straightened and shoved her hair out of her eyes. Quick as a cat, she lunged past Webb and slapped Roanna across the face with all the strength in her arm. Webb grabbed her and swung her to one side, holding her with a firm grip on the collar of her blouse while he caught Roanna by the nape of her neck.

“That's enough, God damn it,” he said with clenched teeth. Webb didn't normally swear in front of women, and the fact that he did now was a measure of his anger. “Jessie, there's no sense in letting the whole house in on this. We'll talk about it upstairs.”

“We'll talk about it upstairs,” she mimicked. “We'll talk about it right here, damn you! You want to keep it quiet? Tough shit! By tomorrow night, everyone in Tuscumbia is going to know you've got a taste for young ass, because I'm going to yell it on every corner!”

“Shut up,” Roanna growled, ignoring her burning cheek and glaring her hate at Jessie. She tried to wriggle free of Webb's punishing hold on her neck, but he merely tightened his grip.