“Jared?” she said tremulously, and took a step backward.
“What do you think I want, Mrs. Lockett?” His voice was raspy and harsh, the inflection on her name ugly. He lunged at her, cornering her against the wall.
His lips swooped down on hers in a brutal kiss that tore her lips apart. A rapacious tongue plunged into her mouth as he pressed his hard body against hers. The buckle on his belt gouged her stomach. His knee plowed between her thighs, thrusting them apart.
Lauren had been so stunned at first that she hadn’t reacted. Now she panicked. She fought him ineffectually with her fists, beating him about his head and shoulders.
She twisted her face free, sobbing, “No, Jared. Please, no!”
“No? Why not?” he growled through clenched teeth. “You are my wife, Mrs. Lockett. So do your duty by me. You’ve given it away to everyone else, and I won’t be denied any longer.”
She recognized the illogical reasoning induced by alcohol, but part of what he said was the truth. She was his wife. His words reverberated in her head like an echo. She was his wife.
She stopped struggling immediately, and he almost lost his balance. She made no effort to stop him as he jerked open her robe and ripped the sheer nightgown from neck to waist. He feasted his fevered eyes on her breasts, covering them roughly with his hands and squeezing with the intention of hurting her. Expecting a reaction and getting none, it finally registered with him that she wasn’t fighting. He looked into her eyes.
She returned his gaze steadily, levelly, without fear. It was the look of a small animal that offers up the jugular to its predator when it admits that struggling is futile.
If she had poured cold water on him, she couldn’t have extinguished the fires of passion more thoroughly. He stood motionless before her, breathing heavily. After long moments rife with suppressed emotion, he ran his hand through his hair, making a valiant effort to regain a modicum of dignity.
He leaned against her, but not with the lust of a moment before. His head rested against the wall above hers and he rolled his forehead from one side to another as if in agony. She felt his hands at her breasts, but realized he was pulling together the front of her dressing gown to hide her nakedness.
When his breathing had returned to normal, he backed away, holding a lock of her hair between his fingers. As he moved backward, he kept the strand in his hand until it was extended its full length, and then he let it fall from his fingers a little at a time. He watched every hair as it filtered through his fingers, falling to lie against her shoulder. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Lauren slumped to the floor and muffled her sobs with the fabric of her gown.
Jared was gone the next morning. He had returned to Austin. A week later, Lauren accepted the delivery of a brand-new, baby grand piano. It had been purchased for her by one Mr. Jared Lockett.
Chapter 17
The date of the groundbreaking ceremony for the new railroad was set for December fifteenth. Everyone hoped that the Texas weather would cooperate. The collective spirit of the townspeople was soaring with excitement and anticipation. The municipal band gathered for joint rehearsals with the high school band. Speechmakers wrote and rewrote their speeches. Games were organized and yards of bunting were taken out of storage to be used in decorating the platform that was being erected in the center of the park.
Lauren had spent considerable time alone while Jared was away. She hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of his attack Thanksgiving night. Again he had shown her that side of his character that was violent and frightening. She knew that most of his anger that night had been brought on by the Vandivers’ presence in his house. Compound that with his seeing her with Kurt, and then by the alcohol he had consumed, and the results weren’t too surprising.
Lauren still trembled as she recalled his face as he lowered it to hers in a parody of romantic passion. He had intended to punish her physically, but had wounded her spirit instead. If she could hate him, things would be easier. But loving him, his insults hurt even more.
The tender way he had touched her hair before he left that night had almost been her undoing. The anguish and suffering she had read in his eyes were more than she could bear. Had he wanted to apologize? Did masculine pride prevent him from expressing his regret?
When the piano was being unloaded from the wagon sent to deliver it, she had cried. Was this supposed to be a substitute for his respect and affection? It was a generous, beautiful gift, but she would have preferred one kind, gentle, caring word from Jared’s lips.
After she had thought about it for a long while, she realized that Jared didn’t know how to ask her forgiveness. She, more than anyone, had come to know how fierce his pride was. He would never verbalize an apology, so he had sent her the expensive piano as his peace offering.
Lauren played the instrument every day. Having not played for months, her fingers had become stiff and her touch lacked the fluidity that she had been capable of before. She practiced for a week before she felt she had regained some semblance of her former talent.
She was playing on the afternoon Jared rode into the yard on Charger. He slowed his horse when he first heard the music. He slipped from the saddle and nodded absently as Pepe came running from the stable.
He relinquished care of the animal to Pepe and walked on light footsteps up the steps to the front door. He didn’t want to disturb her playing, and he was anxious as to what her attitude toward him would be. He had never had to resort to rape in his life. And then to try to rape his own wife! Godalmighty! He was brimming with self-loathing and disgust. What would she do when she saw him? Probably clutch her clothes to her body and flee in terror. He couldn’t blame her.
Slipping quietly into the hall and shutting the front door, he crept on tiptoe toward the parlor, raising his heels high off the floor to keep his spurs from jingling.
Lauren saw him the instant he stood under the portiere. He looked much as he had when he had invaded her bedroom that first time. The clothes, hat, holster, boots, everything was the same except for his demeanor. Then he had been sardonic and arrogant. Today he looked like a shy little boy. He melted her heart, banished her fearful reserve.
“Jared!” she cried. Her face was wreathed in smiles as she stood quickly and went to him. “Thank you for the piano. I can’t tell you how much I love it. Thank you.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheeks in turn, lightly.
He was so taken aback by her reception that he stood mute, staring into the sparkling gray eyes. They held no accusation, no anger, no revulsion. He was completely baffled.
Her hands still rested lightly on his shoulders. The fragrance he had come to associate with her wafted up to him. Her complexion looked warm and rosy. Her lips were softly parted, inviting, expectant. It was all too much.
When he drew her to him, it was with extreme caution, as though she might rebuff his embrace. He moaned with gratitude when, all too willingly, she fit her body along his. His arms went around her carefully as he buried his face in the rich glossiness of her hair. When his lips met hers, they were suppliant. At her immediate, sweet, acquiescent response, he grew bolder and traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue.