With One Look (43 page)

Which is not to say she is completely recovered. Far from it. She still suffers vicious attacks, more vicious for the capriciousness of them; she never knows when they might happen. She has learned to talk herself through them, waiting the moments until they subside, relaxing bit by bit until they vanish and the world goes still again. The nightmares persist; I wonder now if they always will.

Nor has she asked the question. I don't know how she keeps from wondering who it was that murdered her parents and caused this pain and grief. I begin to wonder at the wisdom of your advice not to initiate the subject, to wait until she is ready. More and more I want to take her by the shoulders and look in those eyes and say simply, I did not do it, Jade. I did not do it....

I am more aware than the others of how much she still struggles and the great effort she puts to hiding it. More than once I have discovered she had been crying secretly and silently, and nothing on earth or in hell could tear at my heart with greater viciousness. And still she does not speak to me. At times she is passing courteous, at other times barely civil. Still other times she maliciously goes out of her way to make me angry, occasionally with some success, despite my every effort to control it.

I don't know how much longer my patience can last—

Victor paused and sighed, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. How much longer could he last? The only

time she allowed his comfort was after a nightmare, and had it not been for those nightmares, he would have long ago insisted she take another room. Sleeping with her had become his most excruciating torture. He took care to keep

as much distance as possible between their two bodies, to retire after she had fallen asleep and to rise before she woke—and still, most nights he found himself pacing the floor like a caged and crazed animal, staring at her through the darkness of the room while she slept. How much longer he could last, trying to maintain some semblance of control until she—blessed day it would be—came to him?

Desire became a monster he fought. Now it was increasingly difficult to be in the same room with her. Inevitably, his gaze wandered to her, memories surfaced, his imagination followed a predictable pattern.

He had never been good with celibacy, nor had he ever endured it as long. He often half joked that forced celibacy had been the reason he gave up those long sea voyages in the first place. He felt like a starving man denied food; he found himself becoming more and more obsessed as each day of denial wore on, torn between battling with what he saw as his weakness and laughing at his misery....

He returned pen to paper.

/ hear your voice in my mind. You shall last as long as it is demanded of you. Very well. Then let me be blunt. I need you. I believe your company, as it often does, provides incalculable worth, especially to those, like Jade, who are so troubled. The ever increasing pace of the shipyard demands my presence more and more and yet, I am afraid to leave her alone here. For a hundred reasons I do not think it would be wise. Also, Sebastian has been asked to a series of demonstration at the fencing academy, and I know he would very much like to return to the city as well. And speaking of a country visit: when shall you finally finish that book you've promised your superiors? A country stay would provide you with numerous hours of uninterrupted peace as well—

A knock sounded at the door. Thinking it was Murray, Victor bid him inside. The door opened and he glanced up. The pen fell on the desk top; he stared.

The change was immediately apparent. Jade's hair had been neatly lifted and pinned, pretty green ribbons woven throughout the crown of her dark tresses. She wore a deep green merino dress that blended, it seemed, with the Dutch landscape painting she stood before. The low-cut neckline revealed the pale ivory lift of breast, the ample wealth there flowed seductively into the bodice. A small black velvet ribbon held a cameo at her throat, a birthday gift from Marie Saint. The black band dramatically accented the long lines of her thin neck.

His breath caught, he forced his heart still. It didn't mean anything, he told himself. A small step, 'twas all. Yet her eyes held every emotion of her heart: uncertainty and fear of the wisdom of being alone with him.

"Jade." His hands went behind his head, a casual and disarming gesture with his booted feet resting on the desk top. "A visit. I'm surprised."

She nodded, nervously glancing down at the tips of her matching slippers. "I was wondering if I might speak to you about something."

The quiet sang in the stilled afternoon air. Her eyes shimmered with emotion. He would be gentle, very gentle.

She felt her face grow hot beneath his scrutiny; it felt very nearly unbearable. And yet she had to say this, to make this truce, because no matter what, he didn't deserve her petulance or childish anger.

Yesterday she had decided to cut her hair. She had asked Tessie to fetch the shears. With horror, Tessie grasped her intentions and raced off to find him. Victor had taken the stairs two at a time, emerging through the door to find her in the dressing room, furiously going through the drawers. "Ah ha! Here they are," she had said, finding his shears at last.

"What do you think you're doing?" "I'm going to cut my hair." "Why?"

"Because you love it." She had glanced at him to assess his reaction. The tender amusement in his eyes startled her, and for a moment, she struggled to understand. "Don't think you can stop me! Even if you stop me now, the minute your back is turned, I'll do it."

She had pointed with the shears as if threatening him. He closed his eyes, feeling the exasperation of a parent with a misbehaving five-year-old. "I don't suppose I could stop you from doing something like that."

His words surprised her.

"But before you take such a drastic measure, Jade, you should know that it won't work. I'd still want you with short hair. What's more, I'm liable to want to prove it to you."

"What ... can you mean?"

"I believe the words were plain."

"You would r-r-rape—" The word had caught on her tongue, and she stammered. Color drained from her face, and she felt a curious numbness creeping into her limbs.

"Rape you?" He had shook his head. "Rape is when a man forces a woman against her will.

I'd never do that." Her heart stopped as he stepped toward her, his gaze unwavering, penetrating. He calmly removed the shears from her hand and set them on the divan. "And that would be so much worse, wouldn't it?"

His punishment had come as he shut the door behind him and listened to the sound of unspeakable anguish ...

"You have something you'd like to say?"

Jade tried to banish the unpleasant scene from her mind. She could not look at him. "Yes." The words struggled up from the depth of her despondency. "I've been horrible. No one deserves it, and I'm ... I'm sorry. In time perhaps I will come to accept all that's happen."

"Jade—"

"This does not mean anything has changed. Not really." A trembling hand went to her forehead. She wanted so badly to escape, escape from him and from the darkness of the passage she had been though. Just looking at him solicited emotions that set her trembling in their wake; it was a constant torment. "Victor, please"—she put her back to him—"I want to return to the convent."

Her head tilted to the ceiling as if to stop the tears, and he wondered a moment what power his love might have to heal her heart. What if she let him love her again?

He abruptly realized she was asking him for permission to leave. "No."

The single word rang with a profane echo in the silence. She told herself she had known he would deny her this, that she wasn't surprised. She moved to the door and reached for the latch. "In time I hope you come to understand this would be best for everyone."

Victor found himself staring without seeing the landscape painting, his thoughts racing to the faraway future when he owned her love again. A future somehow farther away with each day that passed....

"Never," he said to the empty room.

Victor was forced to leave for two days before his father arrived for a stay. A group of small farmers in the area had requested his help in destroying a pack of wild dogs that had been running over the land, killing livestock and posing a threat to human life as well, for it was believed the dogs were rabid. Since Victor was reputed to be one of the best shots in the parish, certainly good enough to pick off the dogs, the group of farmers had asked him first, and were grateful when he accepted.

For the two days of his absence Jade knew another, different kind, of release. His absence made her understand just how much energy—emotional currency, so to speak— was required to maintain her air of indifference to his presence.

She rubbed her eyes wearily as she lay down to sleep, not realizing how hard she did it, a part of her wanting to inflict pain at its source. She imagined escaping from him forever. She

pictured herself and Wolf Dog running out of the house and to the stables. In this fantasy, she leaped on

Ariel's back and loosened the reins so the horse could fly her away. Then she'd never have to see those piercing blue eyes again and remember his betrayal. She would never have to remember the magic ball that lay shattered at her feet

It was becoming an agitation, a source of acute discomfort that she found most difficult to comprehend. She tried to talk to Mercedes and Tessie about it, but both friends turned a deaf ear to any expression of ill feeling toward Victor.

"Jade, how can you" talk so?" Mercedes gently scolded her. "Victor is your husband and he loves you, and you would realize how much you love him, too, if you'd just come to forgive him.

You will see, you will see! This is very childish, this running away idea. You belong to him and here and to us. Yes, us, Jade! We are your family. The workmen laid the foundation of our house yesterday...."

The afternoon sun had just finished its grand descent, sinking behind the western horizon when Jade returned from a long, vigorous ride on Ariel and wearily climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She smiled when she discovered a steamy hot bath already waiting for her, wondering how Tessie could always anticipate these things. Her dinner clothes had been laid out, too. She quickly lifted her hair, undressed and slipped into the soothing, sweet-scented hot water, determined not to think of anything.

She instantly lost herself to it, drowned out every last unpleasant thought, and with her eyes closed, she soon rested on that pleasant border, neither sleep nor wakefulness. She never heard him step inside the room.

Victor just stood there, staring. The sheer seductive force of finding her like that rocked him back. Her hair lifted carelessly, strands swept recklessly around her lovely face. Her eyes closed, her wet lashes brushed against flushed cheeks. A thin line of moisture appeared above slightly parted red lips. The steamy water was but a transparent veil over her nakedness.

He wanted her more at that moment than he had ever wanted anything, more than he could have previously imagined wanting anything. Afraid to move in any direction, he was riveted to the spot. Not wishing to make his presence known, he longed for the strength to leave, for he had some small idea of how very vulnerable he was at that moment. Her reaction could send him plummeting

to a new hell or lift him to a certain heaven. Yet there was no choice if there existed the slightest chance.

"Jade?"

She opened her eyes and took in the unexpected and unpleasant reality of his presence. He looked frightening, that tall muscled frame clad only in moccasin boots, tan breeches and a vest; a menacing dagger still hanging on his belt. His hair was loose like a savage's, too long to be proper, and two days' growth of beard shadowed the rugged, sharp features. Those fine dark eyes stared back, always bold and unashamed.

She gasped as her arms crossed above her bosom.

He stepped over to the tub, her apprehension increasing with each step. He knelt down and for a moment said nothing as his gaze traveled leisurely up and down her figure. She caught her breath and held it.

"Jade... love." His voice was whisper soft, like a caress, yet changed with his desire and his own uncertainty. "I never told you, but I have this dream. Over and over. In this dream I am offering you a present. It is the magic ball made of our love. I am holding it out to you to see; it's alive again and so beautiful. Jade, I am desperate for you to see this—"

She was shaking her head now, her eyes wild with bewilderment and panic. She could never love him again. Never.

The words were spoken by her silence, the shake of her head, the naked fear in her eyes. Victor felt something rip deep inside. She climbed out of the tub and backed away from him like a trapped animal. "No, please, I—"

He rose and turned so quickly she never finished. He didn't look back, but paused at the door long enough to say, "I want you to have your things moved from this room. I don't think I can stand it anymore." He shut the door and she did not see him again for over two weeks.

"I suppose what I did was a terrible sin?"

Jade and Father Nolte sat across the patio table from each other. The chess board lay between them. It was a perfect late summer day. The afternoon air was warm but not hot, and a pleasant breeze blew in from the Gulf, stirring the shade of the ancient cypress trees surrounding the patio.

Jade had just finished exercising her horse and swimming. Her long hair was still wet, combed to a neat rope down her back, and while her face held a pretty rosy hue from the exertion,

her gaze held the troubled gravity of a child as she spoke. Her eyes seemed unwilling to settle on anything, darting anxiously to and fro, first from his face—he looked so much like Victor—to the rose garden behind him, then back to the chess board. Nervously, she fondled the carved ivory pieces, giving but token consideration to the game.

He had arrived for an extended visit during Victor's and Sebastian's absence. The Church had given him leave for three months to complete his book. Daily life at the country estate fell into a comfortable pattern. He rose before dawn and barricaded himself in a small room adjacent to the library where he worked until mid-afternoon. Murray, feeling more and more the weight of his years, had asked Jade to help him with the bookkeeping, and she had agreed, finding a great deal of comfort in the work. Now she and Murray worked in the study almost all afternoon. Mercedes played the mistress of the house, aiding Carl's supervision of household chores and affairs.