Page 45 of Tempest in Eden

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"And you're always damn eager to look!" she shouted. It was the first time she had cursed in weeks, and the word felt strange on her tongue.

"I'm your husband!"

"But not my owner, nor my conscience. Other people may come to you for advice about what they should do, but I don't need to. I know what I want. And what I want right now is to pose for Zavala." With that she left the room.

She didn't come down for dinner. Ian stayed in his study for most of the night. When at last he came to bed, she pretended to be asleep. The rest of the week followed the same pattern. There was no intimacy between them, barely any conversation beyond what was necessary. The tension in the house was palpable.

She didn't see him the morning of her appointment in Manhattan. He'd already left the house when she came downstairs, but she had arranged for Mrs. Higgins to drive her to the train station. She boarded the train with a leaden heart, resenting Ian. He should feel proud that she'd been asked. He should encourage her, calm her nerves, buck up her spirits. This assignment was important to her.

As the miles ticked off under the train's wheels, her bitterness increased and her determination along with it. She wouldn't let him spoil this opportunity for her. When she entered the studio, she'd be wonderful—animated, alive, and glowing.

She was. But when the session finally ended at nine o'clock that evening, she was exhausted. After checking into the most inexpensive hotel she could find in which she'd feel safe, she called home.

"Yes?" Ian said into the telephone. Was there a worried, anxious tone in his voice?

"Ian, it's me. I'm still in New York, and since it's so late, I've decided to spend the night and catch the first train home in the morning."

"I see," he said rigidly. "Do you have enough money, everything you need?"

"Yes."

"Well, then call Mrs. Higgins when you arrive, and she'll pick you up."

"All right." A lump of regret as hard as a rock was lodged in her throat. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him that since he hadn't endorsed it, posing for Zavala hadn't been nearly as exciting as she had expected. He had been demanding, condescending, and petulant.

Now, hearing Ian's voice, she wanted to cry, to tell him how tired she was, how much she hated this animosity between them, how much she missed his tender, ardent lovemaking. But pride wouldn't let her. Damn him! He'd backed her into a corner, and she couldn't relent. "Well, good night then."

"Good night." He hung up without another word.

The next day, Mrs. Higgins met Shay's train and dropped her at the house on her way to the market. "Reverend Douglas is at home," she told Shay as she got out of the car. Not finding him on the lower floor, Shay went upstairs. Her heart constricted with fear when she entered the bedroom and saw Ian tossing clothes into a suitcase. Was he leaving her?

"Ian?"

He turned around. "Hello, Shay. How was your trip?"

"What are you doing?" she asked, disregarding his inquiry. "Where are you going?"

"To the basketball playoffs, remember?"

She released a pent-up breath. "Oh, yes. When?"

"Right now."

Disappointment swamped her. She had hoped they might settle the misunderstanding between them today. "I see. For how long?"

He snapped the suitcase shut and pulled it off the bed. "Until they lose a game." He brushed past her and made his way downstairs. "I've asked Mr. Griffin, who is chairman of the deacons, to oversee things at the chinch while I'm gone. I'm to be called if there's an emergency. Otherwise refer anyone who calls about church business to him."

"I will," Shay replied, following him despondently down the stairs.

He shrugged into his coat at the door and pulled on his gloves. "The coach's wife will know where we're staying if you need me."

I need you!she cried silently. "Ian." The desperation in her voice must have registered on him. He turned on his way out the door. Snowflakes settled on his dark hair and lashes.

"Yes?"

She wanted to fly into his arms, to mesh her mouth with his, to taste his passion, to take his strength into herself. But angry, hateful words echoed loudly in her head. She wasn't ready to capitulate, and she knew he wouldn't.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Have a safe trip."


Tags: Sandra Brown Erotic