Eleven
“What did you expect me to do?” Nash demanded as they drove off the Washington State ferry. “Refuse your parents’ wedding gift?” This marriage was definitely getting off to a rocky start. They’d been husband and wife less than twelve hours and already they were squabbling.
“A remote cabin...alone together,” she groaned. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous.”
“Most newlyweds would be thrilled with the idea,” he said.
“We’re not most newlyweds.”
“I don’t need you to remind me of that,” Nash snapped. “You try to do someone a favor...”
“Are you insinuating that marrying me was a favor?” Savannah was huddled close to the door. “That you were doing it out of kindness?”
Nash prayed for patience. So this was what their marriage was going to be like—this constant barrage of insults, nit-picking, faultfinding.
“No, Savannah, I don’t consider marrying you a favor and I didn’t do it out of kindness. You’re my wife and—”
“In name only,” she said in icy tones.
“Does that mean we’re enemies now?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why have we been at each other’s throats from the moment we left the wedding dinner? I’m sorry your family insisted on giving us a honeymoon. I’m well aware that you’d rather spend time with anyone but me. I was hoping we’d make the best of this.”
She didn’t respond, for which he was grateful. The silence was a welcome contrast to the constant bickering.
“It was a beautiful wedding,” she said softly, unexpectedly.
“Yes, it was.” Savannah was beautiful in her ivory silk suit with a short chiffon veil decorated with pearls. Nash had barely been able to take his eyes off her. It was a struggle to remember this wasn’t a real, till-death-do-us-part marriage.
“I’ve been acting defensive,” she added apologetically. “I’m sorry, Nash, for everything. It isn’t your fault we’re stuck together like this.”
“Well, it was my idea, after all. And our marriage could be a good thing in lots of ways.”
“You’re right,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “We might find we enjoy each other’s company.”
Nash was offended by the comment. He’d enjoyed being with Savannah from the beginning, enjoyed goading her, challenging her views on marriage. He’d found himself seeking her out, looking for excuses to be with her, until she’d insisted she didn’t want to see him again. He’d abided by her wishes, but he’d missed her, far more than he cared to admit.
“I saw Mr. Serle and Mr. Stackhouse talking to you after the ceremony.”
Nash grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Both of the senior partners had been delighted to see Nash marry Savannah. She’d managed to completely captivate those two. Arnold Serle had been acutely disappointed that they’d decided against a wedding dance. He’d been counting on another spin around the floor with Savannah.
“Did they say anything about the senior partnership?” Savannah asked.
He was annoyed that she already seemed eager to get out of their arrangement. “No, but then, a wedding isn’t exactly the place to be discussing business.” He didn’t mention that it was at his sister’s reception that John Stackhouse had originally introduced the subject.
“I see.” She sounded disappointed, and Nash’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Luckily the drive was a beautiful one through lush green Lopez Island. Although Nash had lived in Washington all his life, he’d never ventured into the San Juan Islands. When they drove off the ferry he was surprised by the quiet coves and breathtaking coastline. In an effort to fill their time, he’d arranged for him and Savannah to take a cruise and explore the northernmost boundary islands of Susia and Patos, which were the closest to the Canadian border. He’d wanted their honeymoon to be a memorable experience; he’d planned a shopping excursion to Friday Harbor for another day. He’d read about the quaint shops, excellent restaurants and a whale museum. Women liked those sorts of things. It seemed now that his efforts were for naught. Savannah had no intention of enjoying these days together.
“Have your parents said anything about traveling south?”
“Not yet,” she said, her voice disheartened.
“They might not, you know.” In other words, she could find herself living with him for the next few years, like it or not. The thought didn’t appeal to him any more than it did her, especially if she continued with this attitude.
“How much farther is it to the cabin?” she asked stiffly. Nash wasn’t sure. He didn’t have GPS but he had a detailed map and instructions. However, since he’d never been on Lopez Island, he wasn’t any expert. “Soon, I suspect.”
“Good.”
“You’re tired?”
“A little.”
It’d been a full day. First the wedding, then the dinner followed by the drive to the ferry and the ride across Puget Sound. Darkness would fall within the hour and Nash had hoped they’d be at the cabin before then.
He reached the turnoff in the road and took a winding, narrow highway for several miles. Savannah was suspiciously silent, clutching her wedding bouquet. He was surprised she’d chosen to bring it with her.
He found the dirt road that led to the cabin and slowly drove down it, grateful he’d rented a four-wheel-drive vehicle. The route was filled with ruts, which didn’t lend him much confidence about this remote cabin. If this was any indication of what the house would be like, they’d be lucky to have electricity and running water.
He was wrong and knew it the minute he drove into the clearing. This was no cabin, but a luxurious house, built with a Victorian flair, even to the turret and wraparound porch.
“Oh, my...it’s lovely,” Savannah whispered.
The house was a sight to behold all on its own, but the view of the water was majestic.
“I’ll get the luggage,” Nash said, hopping out of the Jeep. He thought better of it, hurried around to Savannah’s side and helped her down.
With his hands around her waist, he lifted her onto the ground. He longed to hold her against him, to swing her into his arms and carry her over the threshold like any new husband, but he didn’t dare. Savannah would assume he was making a mockery of this traditional wedding custom. That was how she seemed to be dealing with everything lately, distrusting him and his motives. She made marriage feel like an insult. If this attitude lasted much longer, they’d have the shortest marriage on record.
“I’ll get the luggage,” he said again, unnecessarily. At least if his hands were full, he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for Savannah.
“I’ll open the door,” she said, and for the first time she sounded enthusiastic. She hurried ahead of him and he noticed that she favored her injured leg more than usual. Sitting for any length of time must make movement more difficult. She rarely spoke about her leg—about the accident, her long rehabilitation or the pain she still suffered. He wished he knew how to broach the subject, but every attempt had been met with bristly pride, as if she believed that sharing this imperfect part of herself would make her too vulnerable.
She had the door open when he joined her. Stepping inside the house was like stepping into the nineteenth century. The warmth and beauty of this house seemed to greet them with welcoming arms.
The living room was decorated with a mix of antiques, and huge windows created a room that glowed in the setting sun.
“Oh, Nash,” Savannah said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.”
“Me, neither.”
“Dad must have seen an ad for this house, maybe on a vacation website. He knows how much I love anything Victorian, especially houses.”
Nash stashed that away in his storehouse of information about Savannah. When it was time to celebrate her birthday or Christmas, he’d know what to buy her.
“I’ll put these in the bedrooms,” he said. He didn’t like the idea of them sleeping separately, but he didn’t have any choice. He’d agreed to do so until she changed her mind, and from the look of things that could be a decade from now—if ever.
The master bedroom was equally attractive, with a huge four-poster mahogany bed. French lace curtains hung from the windows and the walls were papered in pale yellow. He set down Savannah’s suitcase and headed for the second bedroom, which would be his. It was originally intended as a children’s room, he realized. Instead of spending his wedding night with the woman he’d just married, he was destined to stare at row after row of tin soldiers. So much for romance!
* * *
Savannah woke early the next morning. The sunlight spilling in from the window was filtered through the lace curtains until a spidery pattern reflected against the floor. She yawned and sat up in bed. Surprisingly, she’d fallen asleep right away without the sadness or tears she’d expected.
“You’re a married woman,” she said aloud, thinking she might believe it if she heard herself say it. Her wedding and all that led up to it was still unreal to her. Afterward she’d been awful to Nash.
It took her a long time to understand why she’d behaved in such an uncharacteristic manner. Just before she went to bed, she’d realized what was going on. She was lashing out at him, blaming him for making a farce of what she considered holy. Only, he wasn’t to blame; they were in this together. Marriage was advantageous to them both.
She heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee urged her out of bed. She threw on her robe and shoved her feet into slippers.
“’Morning,” she said when she joined him. He’d obviously been up for hours. His jacket hung on a peg by the back door with a pair of rubber boots on the mat. His hair was wet, and he held a mug of steaming coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“’Morning,” he said, grinning broadly.
“You’ve been exploring.” It hurt a little that he’d gone outside without her, but she couldn’t really fault him. She hadn’t been decent company in the past week or so. And walking along the beach with her wouldn’t be much fun, since her gait was slow and awkward.
“I took a walk along the beach. I found you something.” He reached behind him and presented her with a perfectly formed sand dollar.
Savannah’s hand closed around her prize.
“I’m not sure, but I think I saw a pod of whales. It’s a little difficult to tell from this distance.”
Savannah made busywork about the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and checking the refrigerator for milk, all the while struggling to hold back her disappointment. She would’ve loved to see a pod of whales, even from a distance.
“What would you like for breakfast?” she asked, hoping to get their day off to a better start.
“Bacon, eggs, toast and a kiss.”
Savannah froze.
“You heard me right. Come on, Savannah, loosen up. We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember? This isn’t going to work if you act the part of the outraged virgin.”
What he said was true, but that didn’t make it any easier. She turned away from him and fought down a confused mixture of anger and pain. She wanted to blame him, and knew she couldn’t. She longed to stamp her foot, as she had when she was a little girl, and cry out, “Stop! No more.” No more discord. No more silliness. But it wouldn’t do any good. She was married but resigned to a life of loneliness. These were supposed to be the happiest days of her life and here she was struggling not to weep.
Nash had moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you find me so repugnant?” he whispered close to her ear.
His warm breath was moist. She shut her eyes and shook her head.
“Then why won’t you let me kiss you?”
She shrugged, but was profoundly aware of the answer. If Nash kissed her, she’d remember how much she enjoyed his touch. It’d been like that from the beginning. He knew it. She knew it. Now he intended to use that against her.
He brought his mouth down to her neck and shivers of awareness moved up and down her spine. Needing something to hold on to, Savannah reached for the kitchen counter.
“One kiss,” he coaxed. “Just one.”
“Y-you promise?”
“Of course. Anything you say.”
She made a small, involuntary movement to turn around. His hands on her shoulders aided the process. She quivered when his mouth met hers and a familiar heat began to warm her. As always, their need for each other was so hot and intense, it frightened her.
Slowly, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a husky whisper.
Savannah made an unintelligible sound.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, claiming her mouth again.
She locked her arms around his neck. Soon the kissing wasn’t enough....
Savannah felt as though her body was on fire. She’d been empty and lonely for so long. No man had ever kissed her like this. No man had ever wanted her so badly.
“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he begged. “Don’t tell me you want me to stop.”
Incapable of a decision, she made a second unintelligible sound.
“If we continue like this, we’re going to end up making love on the kitchen floor,” Nash whispered.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whimpered.
“Yes, you do. Savannah. If it gets much hotter, we’re both going to explode. Let me make love to you.”
She started to protest, but he stopped her, dragging his mouth back to hers. Only she could satisfy him, his kisses seemed to be saying. Savannah didn’t know if he was telling her this or if she was hearing it in her mind. It didn’t matter; she got the message.
“No,” she said with a whimper. She couldn’t give him her body. If they made love, he’d own her completely, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Someday he was going to walk away from her. Someday he was going to announce that it was over and she was supposed to go on her merry way without him. She was supposed to pretend it didn’t matter.
“You don’t mean that,” Nash pleaded. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me.” The words were issued in a heated whisper. “Don’t do this, Savannah.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “Please...don’t. You promised. You said you’d stop...whenever I asked.”
He released her then, slowly, her body dragging against his as her feet slid back to the floor. She stepped away from him, anxious to break the contact, desperately needing room to breathe. She pressed her hand to the neckline of her gown and drew in several deep breaths.
Nash’s eyes were squeezed shut as he struggled to bring himself under control. When he opened them, Savannah swore they were filled with fire.
Without a word to her, he reached for his jacket, opened the door and walked out.
She was trembling so hard, she had to pull out a chair and sit down. She didn’t know how long she was there before she felt strong enough to stand, walk back into the bedroom and dress.
It was a mistake to let him kiss her; she’d known it even as she agreed, known it would be like this between them. Gnawing on her lower lip, she argued with herself. She and Nash had created an impossible situation, drawn up a list of rules and regulations and then insisted on testing each one to the limits of their endurance.
She’d just placed their coffee cups in the dishwasher when the back door opened and Nash appeared. She studied him. He looked calm and outwardly serene, but she wasn’t fooled. She could see the angry glint in his eyes.
“If you’re looking for an apology, you can forget it,” he said.
“I’m...not.”
“Good.”
Now didn’t seem the time to mention that he hadn’t helped matters any by suggesting the kiss. Both of them knew what would happen when they started flirting with the physical aspect of their relationship.
Nash poured himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s sit down and talk this over.”
“I...don’t know what there is to say,” she said, preferring to avoid the issue completely. “It was a very human thing to happen. You’re an attractive, healthy man with...needs.”
“And you’re a red-blooded woman. You have needs, too. But admitting that takes real honesty, doesn’t it?”
Savannah found the remark insulting, but then, Nash didn’t seem inclined to be generous with her. Since she didn’t have an argument to give him, she let it pass.
“I did some thinking while I walked off my frustration.”
“Oh?” She was curious about what he’d decided, but didn’t want to press him.
“The way I see it, I’m setting myself up for constant frustration if we have any more bouts like this last one. If you want to come out of this marriage as pristine as the freshly fallen snow, then far be it from me to hit my head against a brick wall.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You don’t need to. You have your wish, Savannah. I won’t touch you again, not until you ask me, and the way I feel right now, you’re going to have to do a whole lot more than ask. You’re going to have to beg.”
* * *
Nash hadn’t known it was possible for two human beings to live the way he and Savannah had spent the past two weeks. The so-called honeymoon had been bad enough, but back in civilization, living in his house, the situation had gone from unbearable to even worse. The electricity between them could light up a small city. Yet they continued to ignore their mutual attraction.
They lived as brother and sister. They slept in separate rooms, inquired about each other’s day, sat at the dinner table every night and made polite conversation.
In two weeks Nash hadn’t so much as held her hand. He dared not for fear he’d get burned. Not by her rejection, but by their need for each other.
Part of the problem was the fact that Savannah was a virgin. She didn’t know what she was missing, but she had a fairly good idea, and that added a certain amount of intrigue. He sincerely hoped she was miserable, at least as miserable as he was.
“Mr. Griffin is here to see you,” his assistant announced.
Nash stood to greet his client. Don Griffin had lost weight in the past month. Nash had, too, come to think of it. He didn’t have much of an appetite and was working out at the gym most nights after dinner.
“Did you hear from Janice’s attorney?” Don demanded.
“Not yet.”
“Does he normally take this long to return phone calls?” Agitated, Don started to pace.
“He does when he wants us to sweat,” he said.
“Raise Janice’s monthly allotment by five hundred dollars.”
Nash sighed inwardly. This was a difficult case and not for the usual reasons. “Sit down, Mr. Griffin,” he said. “Please.”
Don complied and sat down. He bounced his fingers against each other and studied Nash as he leaned back in his chair.
“Janice hasn’t requested any extra money,” Nash said.
“She might need it. Amy, too. There are a hundred unexpected expenses that crop up. I don’t want her having to scrimp. It’s important to me that my wife and daughter live comfortably.”
“You’ve been more than generous.”
“Just do as I say. I’m not paying you to argue with me.”
“No, you’re paying me for advice and I’m about to give you some, so kindly listen. It doesn’t come cheap.”
Don snorted loudly. “No kidding. I just got your last bill.”
Nash smiled. His clients were often shocked when they learned how expensive divorce could be. Not only financially, but emotionally. Nash had seen it happen more times than he cared to think about. Once his clients realized how costly a divorce could be, they were already embroiled in bitterness and it was impossible to undo the damage.
“Do you know what you’re doing, giving Janice extra money?” he asked.
“Sure I do. I’m attempting to take care of my wife and daughter.”
“You’re already doing that. Offering them more money is more about easing your conscience. You want to absolve your guilt because you had an affair.”
“It wasn’t an affair,” Don shouted. “It was a one-night thing, a momentary lapse that I’ve regretted every moment since. Janice would never have found out about it if it hadn’t been for—never mind, that doesn’t matter now. She found out about it and immediately called an attorney.”
“My point is, she learned about your indiscretion and now you want to buy peace of mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.”
“All I’m trying to do is get this divorce over with.”
Tony Pound, Janice’s attorney, wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what he was doing, dragging the proceedings out as long as possible to prolong the guilt and the agony. To Nash’s way of thinking, his client had been punished enough.
“This is one mistake you aren’t going to be paying monetarily for the rest of your life,” Nash assured him. “And I plan to make sure of it. That’s why John Stackhouse asked me to take your case. You’ve lost your wife, your home, your daughter. You’ve paid enough. Now go back to your apartment and relax. I’ll contact you when I hear from Mr. Pound.”
Don Griffin nodded reluctantly. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Nash assured him.
He rose slowly from the chair. “You’ll be in touch soon?”
Nash said he would. Don left the office and Nash sat down to review his file for the hundredth time. He was missing something, he realized. That cold-blooded instinct for the kill.
He wasn’t enjoying this, wasn’t even close to experiencing the satisfaction he usually gained from bringing his opponents to their knees. Somewhere along the line he’d changed. He’d sensed things were different shortly after he’d met Savannah. Now there was no hiding his feelings. He’d lost it. Only, he wasn’t sure what he’d found in exchange.
“Have you got a moment?” John Stackhouse stuck his head in Nash’s office.
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
The senior partner was smiling from ear to ear. “Would you mind coming down to the meeting room?”
Nash’s pulse accelerated wildly. The executive committee had been meeting with the other senior partners that afternoon to make their recommendation for new senior partner.
“I got the position?” Nash asked hesitantly.
“I think that would be a fair assessment,” the older man said, slapping Nash on the shoulder. “It wasn’t a hard decision, Nash. You’re a fine attorney and an asset to this firm.”
* * *
A half hour later, Nash rushed out of the office and drove directly to Savannah’s shop. As luck would have it, she was busy with a customer. He tried to be patient, tried to pretend he was some stranger who’d casually strolled in.
Savannah looked at him with wide, questioning eyes and he delighted in unnerving her by blowing her a kiss.
“When did you say the wedding was?” she asked the smartly dressed businesswoman who was leafing through a book of invitations.
“In December.”
“You have plenty of time, but it’s a good idea to set your budget now. I’ll be happy to assist you in any way I can.”
“I appreciate that,” Nash heard the woman say.
He wandered over to her desk and sorted through her mail. Without being obvious, Savannah walked over to where he was sitting, took the envelopes from him and gently slapped his hands. “Behave yourself,” she said under her breath.
“I have a few extra expenses coming up,” he said in a low whisper. “I hope you’re doing well. I might need a loan.”
“What expenses?” she asked in the same low voice.
“New business cards, stationery and the like.”
“New stationery?” she repeated more loudly.
The customer turned around. “I’m sorry,” Savannah said apologetically. “I was commenting on something my husband said.”
The woman smiled graciously. “I thought you two must be married. I saw the way you looked at each other when he walked in the door.”
Neither Nash nor Savannah responded.
Savannah started to walk away when Nash caught her hand. It was the first time he’d purposely touched her since the morning after their wedding. Apparently it caught her by surprise, because she turned abruptly, her gaze seeking out his.
“I’m the new senior partner.”
Savannah’s eyes lit up with undisguised delight. “Nash, oh, Nash.” She covered her mouth with both hands and blinked back tears. “Congratulations.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll come back another time with my fiancé,” Savannah’s customer said.
“I’m sorry,” Savannah said, limping toward the woman.
“Don’t apologize. Celebrate with your husband. You both deserve it.” When she reached the front door, she turned the sign to “Closed,” winked at Nash and walked out of the store.
“When did you find out?” Savannah asked, rubbing her index finger beneath her eye.
“About half an hour ago. I thought we’d go out to dinner and celebrate.”
“I...don’t know what to say. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy, too.” It was difficult not to take her in his arms. He stood and walked away from her rather than break his self-imposed restriction.
“Where are you going?” Savannah asked, sounding perplexed.
“I need to keep my distance from you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to hold you so much, my arms ache.”
Savannah broke into a smile. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, opening her arms to him.