The Tawny Gold Man (13 page)

Chapter 10

It was over. She was his wife!

The enormity of the step she'd taken didn't hit Anne until she was strapped into her seat and the plane was making its takeoff run. What in the world was she doing here?  She asked herself a little wildly. Had she gone totally and completely crazy? For one very small moment panic clutched at her throat and she had to fight the urge to flip open her seat belt and run. Run where? The plane was airborne and in less than an hour they'd be landing in Newark.

Reason swiftly reasserted itself, but even so, Anne sat, body pressed against the cushioned padding, hands gripping the arms of her seat.

"Does flying frighten you?"

Caught up in her own thoughts, the sound of Jud's voice strongly tinged with concern startled Anne so much that she jumped.

"For heaven's sake, Anne, relax." Jud's hand covered hers, pried her fingers loose, and laced his long ones through hers before adding, "Flying's safer than driving."

"I know that."

Anne moistened dry lips, casting about in her mind for a plausible excuse for her tension, when she caught a flash of gold out of the corner of her eyes. Although the morning had dawned bright and sunny, by lunchtime the brightness had turned a brassy color and the air had grown oppressive; and by the time they had left for the airport black clouds were building in the west, long fingers of lightning poking through them. Anne grasped at the weather for an excuse.

"Generally I love flying," she said slowly, darting a quick glance at the small window. "But not when there's a storm brewing.  I don't like taking off and landing when there's lightning about."

Jud laughed softly, a gentle, reassuring laugh that rippled along Anne's tension-tight nerve ends.

"We'll be down before you know it," he soothed; then, his fingers tightening, he leaned closer to her and murmured, "Hang on to me, honey, and everything will be all right."

In confusion Anne lowered her eyes. Had there been a double meaning to his words? That amber gaze had been so intent, as if trying to tell her something. But what?  You're being fanciful, she chided herself scathingly, her eyes fastened on her small hand, held so firmly and securely in his much larger one.
He is merely trying to keep me calm,
 
she reasoned dismally,
insuring himself against the embarrassment of a hysterical woman.

The plane landed smoothly and, in an amazingly short time, their bags had been collected and Anne found herself being ushered into the back of the hired limo that was waiting for them. Jud settled himself on the seat beside her, recaptured her hand, then asked softly, "Better now?"

Idly his fingers played with the thin gold band on her finger, sending tiny shivers up her arm. In an effort to cover the small sound her catching breath made, Anne laughed shakily and nodded an answer.

"Good," Jud murmured lazily, then cocked an eyebrow at her. "Would you like to stop for dinner on the way or do you want to go straight home?"

Home? The word doubled her shivers, pushed them up and over her shoulders, down into her stomach.

"I—I think we'd better go straight h—to the apartment," she finally got past the lump in her throat, "if we don't want to get caught in the deluge," she added, turning to look out the window at the steadily lowering black clouds.

"You may be right," he agreed in an unconcerned tone.  "Although, at the rate of speed this traffic's moving, we may be caught in it anyway."

* * * *

They just made it. For no more than five minutes after reaching the apartment the greenish-black sky seemed to be torn apart by the fury of the storm.

Jud's apartment was in a tony neighborhood, large, and obviously expensive. Consisting of two bedrooms, one bath, a small, fully equipped kitchen, and a large living room, it had the added advantage of several large windows which afforded at least a glimpse of Central Park.

Nervous to the point of feeling sick, Anne moved silently beside Jud as he gave her the grand tour ending in the kitchen and nearly jumped when his soft voice broke the quiet.

"Are you hungry? The fridge has been stocked and I'm sure that between the two of us we could rustle up something edible."

"I—I'm not too hungry," she hedged, the very thought of food causing her stomach to jump.

He was standing indolently, one hip propped against the countertop, and the sardonic expression he wore prompted her to add quickly, "I could drink some coffee, though." Then hesitantly, "Are you hungry?"

"Actually I'm famished," he drawled. "But I can make do with a sandwich. I have before."

A small twinge of guilt put a touch of color to her pale cheeks. He was hungry and she had turned down his offer to stop. The least she could do was make him something hot to eat, she told herself contritely. Besides which, it was a way of filling in some of the hours that stretched between now and bedtime.

"A sandwich isn't enough, I'll cook something." Jud's look of mild surprise prompted her to add, "Although I'm no Cordon Bleu chef, I can get a meal together."

"I didn't suggest you couldn't," he retorted softly. His face thoughtful, he studied her a moment. "There's no hurry. I'll get some steaks out of the freezer to thaw. You look washed out. Why don't you go have a shower and rest for an hour or so?"

"Rest?" Anne was almost afraid to ask. "Where?"

His soft sigh told her of his impatience as clearly as hard words would have.

"I put your suitcase in the spare bedroom, Anne." Long fingers raked that fantastic gold hair. "Go. Get some rest. It's been a long day." His hand slid to the back of his neck, massaging slowly as he flexed suddenly bunched-up shoulder muscles. "Hell, it's been one long week. Go on," he urged. "You have a shower and a nap. I'll have a shower and a drink. On second thought, maybe I'll have several drinks."

"On an empty stomach, Jud?"

He had turned to stare out the small window above the sink, but on her hesitant question he whirled around, his face hard, his eyes mocking.

"Good God! Did I acquire a wife or a mother this afternoon?"

Stepping back at his harsh tone, Anne could actually feel her face pale. Wide eyed, hurt, she stammered, "I—I'm— sorry. I—“

"Yes, Anne," he interrupted wearily. "So am I. Don't concern yourself, I'll have some pretzels with the booze." Giving his shoulders another sharp jerk, he ordered, "Get out of here, and don't come back for at least"—he glanced at his watch—"an hour and a half."

"Jud."

"Beat it. You may have the bathroom for exactly twenty minutes. If you're not out of the shower by then I'll join you in it"

Anne spun around and fled, his derisive laughter chasing her through the living room.

Fourteen minutes later Anne stepped out of the bathroom feeling cool and refreshed, if still somewhat shaky. In the few steps required to reach her room she had neither sight nor sound of Jud. With a sigh of relief she slipped inside the room, closing the door quietly.

The room, though not as large as Jud's, was of adequate size, furnished with an attractive pine suite. The walls were covered by a rough-textured, burlap-weave paper, the woodwork painted a satiny white. Draperies, bedspread, and carpet were all in a matching pale aqua that lent a restful color to the decor. This room, Anne decided, was at once comfortable and impersonal. A fact that suited her mood.

Dropping onto the bed, Anne turned her head to the window, studying the nubby weave of the draperies as she relived the earlier part of the day with a vague feeling of unreality.

She had wakened that morning encased in a deadly calm which, by mid-afternoon, had deepened into a cold numbness. Both her mother and Melly had flittered around the house all day, seemingly very busy. For the life of her, Anne could not imagine what kept them so occupied. Except for a few minutes at lunchtime, Anne did not see much of Jud and she didn't catch hide nor hair of the twins until they tore into the house an hour before it was time to leave.

Someone had gotten to them. Either her mother or Melly or both. Anne suspected that Troy and Todd had been subjected to lectures from both their mother and their aunt. In any case, their attitude, at least toward Anne, had softened. They accorded Jud a very thin civility, which, if his own attitude was anything to go by, did not bother him at all. Most surprising was that they had agreed to stand up as witnesses for Jud. Melly, flushed and delighted at being asked, would do the honors for Anne.

Even dressing for her own wedding had very little effect on Anne, She went through the motions slowly and carefully, standing back automatically to observe the finished product.  The dress she wore, a simple summer shift in oyster white raw silk, was not new. Anne had bought the dress the previous summer, along with her shoes and bag in bronze patent leather. As she ran a practiced eye over her small form, Anne decided the overall impression was definitely blah. But then that was exactly how she felt, so, with a light shrug of her shoulders, she silently declared herself ready.

The actual ceremony could not have taken more than eight minutes but, even though she was still in a numb, unfeeling cocoon, two things filtered through and registered with Anne. First, the words of the service were the traditional ones, including love, honor, and obey. Second, the district justice, a slim attractive woman in her early forties, read them with such solemnity and force, Anne was left in little doubt as to how serious the woman considered the act of marriage.

Her calm had remained unshaken during the cheek-kissing and fervent wishes of happiness she received from her mother and Melly as they paused a few moments beside the car outside the district justice's office. Not even the last-minute surrender of Troy and Todd, given in the form of a fierce hug from each in turn and the softly muttered "I pray you'll be happy, Anne" from Troy, had really touched her. It was not until she was actually on the plane that the full realization of it all struck her like a physical blow.

Now, some three hours later, she lay in an unfamiliar bed in the guest room of Jud's apartment and the shock had worn off, leaving in its stead the sick cry—
what have I done
?

Exactly at the time stipulated, Anne, in brown chinos and white gauze shirt, went into the kitchen. One step inside the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room she stopped, a bubble of disbelieving laughter catching at her throat, a forlorn pain catching at her heart.

Jud stood back to her at the countertop, chopping vegetables for a salad, his just-shampooed hair glinting like a newly minted gold coin, and he was dressed, amazingly, in brown brushed denim jeans and white gauze shirt. On hearing her enter, he turned, and Anne could see a tiny piece of glittering gold chain at the unbuttoned neck of his shirt.

"The steaks have thawed enough to remove the wrapping and I've opened a bottle—" Having turned fully around, he stopped, eyes narrowing as they went slowly over her. Then, with what looked like a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and what sounded like a muttered "unreal," he turned back to his task, continuing, "I've opened a bottle of Cabernet to let it breathe awhile. Did you rest at all?"

"Yes," Anne lied calmly. "What can I do to help?"

"Put the steaks under the broiler, set the table, and start a pot of coffee, in that order," he returned with equal calm.

As she set the glass-topped, circular table, Anne felt positive she would not be able to eat. But one piece of the tender Delmonico and several sips of Cabernet seemed to revive her appetite and she not only finished all her steak and salad, she managed a small dish of fresh strawberries as well.

Conversation during the meal and the cleaning up was practically nil and Anne preceded Jud into the living room with trepidation when it was finally over.

Whatever would they talk about?
 
Anne asked herself, warily eyeing the dark brown leather furniture. Choosing the smallest of the two single chairs in the room, she slipped off her sandals and curled herself on it, sighing in relief as Jud strolled to the entertainment unit and began looking through the CD collection.

The music Jud chose did not have the calming effect Anne had hoped for. In fact the husky quality of Garth Brooks's voice combined with lyrics that too often touched a raw nerve increased her tension.

The second hand had chased itself some ninety times around the face of the clock, and Anne was beginning to fidget, when the last of the discs on the C D player made a complete circle.  The sudden silence in the room was short-lived, for Jud's soft but harsh voice cracked it.

"For God's sake, Anne, go to bed."

Somewhat fearfully Anne lifted surprised eyes to him. He was sitting in the exact center of the huge sofa, legs stretched out, head back, and Anne could not remember ever seeing him look quite so tired. His voice matched his expression in weariness.

"You sit there looking as if you'll jump out of your skin at the slightest move from me." He paused, his mouth twisting in mockery. "I assure you you'll be perfectly safe if you go to bed. Pouncing on unwilling women has never been my thing."

The bitterness and disgust that overlay his tone on his last words brought her to her feet in self-defense.

"Jud, I didn't mean to—"

"Get out of here, Anne."  He sighed in exasperation. "Just shut up and go to bed."

He closed his eyes and Anne had the feeling that not only had he closed out the sight of her, but her entire existence as well. Cheeks pink, she retreated without another word.