After Innocence (25 page)

Sofie was stunned by his proposal, her heart skidding wildly. But as his expert kisses became deeper and more insistent, she felt herself responding as she had earlier. He
had just asked her to marry him, but it was hard to think, because his hands stroked her back now, dipping iow on her hips and then her buttocks, teasingly, and his tongue was testing the joining of her lips. Sofie opened. And as she did so, he pushed her down onto her back, groaning long and low and very male in the back of his throat. Desire, already kindled, sparked and flared red-hot and urgent. Sofie shook with new excitement. Flames licked her limbs, up her legs, between her thighs. Sofie tried to hang on to the comprehension that he was seducing her now with the intent of gaining his way, but it no longer seemed to matter. She gasped as the full and heavy weight of his groin settled against the swollen and defied folds of her femininity.

“Sofie,” Edward growled, his hands on her breasts, inside her cotton gown.

Sofie arched wildly against him. His fingers played her nipples, strumming them until she was panting his name. Edward murmured an endearment against her mouth, bent and suckled on her. Sofie thrashed and wept with pleasure, her nails clawing his back as his tongue raked over the tips again and again.

This time, when he entered her, she was ready and it was painless. Sofie held him tightly as he glided inside her repeatedly. “I want you to come with me,” Edward told her hoarsely, his eyes bright and wild. “I want us to peak together.”

Sofie had never imagined it possible to talk in such a graphic and explicit manner while making love, and his words sent her spiraling out of control. Edward gasped and thrust harder, and even through the haze of ecstasy, Sofie thought she could feel him spilling new life inside of her, and she wept with redoubled pleasure. She knew she wanted to have his baby.

Afterwards, he did not release her. Edward held Sofie tightly in his arms, stroking her hair, her back, the curve of her hips. Periodically he would kiss her temple or her jaw. And before Sofie could remember his shocking proposal, she had fallen asleep, nestled in his embrace. Nor did she remember it later that night, when they came together as naturally as lovers of long standing would.

*    *    *

Near dawn Sofie woke up, frightened. The wind was howling, the rain was a torrential downpour, and something was banging loudly against the side of the house. She was alone. For a moment she was confused, unsure of where she was.

And then it all came flooding back to her. She was in a small inn at Oyster Bay. She had seduced Edward—and he had made love to her twice more since then. The tip of a hurricane was raging outside the house. But where was Edward?

The heavy banging against the side of the house grew louder. Sofie’s heart clenched and she sat up. The rafters on the roof seemed to shake, and the wind was piercing. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten, and she could see the shapes of trees bent over double in the gale. Sofie told herself it was only a storm, told herself not to be afraid.

Her door slammed open hard. Sofie screamed in fright, then realized that the shadowy figure who had rushed into her room, holding a candle, was Edward.

“Sofie, get up,” he ordered, pulling the covers off her. “Half the roof on the house next door just blew off. It’s not safe up here and we’re going downstairs.”

Sofie was fully alarmed despite his calm tone. Suddenly they heard the sound of glass breaking and objects crashing down. Edward moved to the window, holding up the flickering candle. “The electricity’s out,” he said grimly, “and it’s hard to see, but a tree just blew down Main Street. Get dressed, Sofie.”

Sofie hurried to obey, her heart racing with fear. The banging continued, louder now, and the sky outside had turned to a strange, opaque gray. She managed to get on her clothes, but could not button up her shirtwaist—Edward had to help her. She was trying to braid her hair when a knock sounded frantically on the door. “You folks!” shouted the proprietor over the deafening noise of the storm. “Got to go down to the cellar!”

“Forget your hair,” Edward cried, grabbing Sofie. They ran across the room, but when they opened the door, it flew so hard against the wall that it broke off its hinges.
The innkeeper was cowering there with an old-fashioned lantern, ashen. “All the windows on the other side of the house have blown out!” he shouted. And as he spoke, the sky appeared above their heads as a part of the inn’s roof was sucked away, and rain poured down upon them with bruising force. Sofie screamed when a sudden gale slammed her backwards down the corridor towards the stairs.

Edward caught her before she was blown to the floor below. He lifted her in his arms and shouted for the innkeeper. They raced downstairs and outside. Through the torrents of rain Sofie saw Edward’s beautiful Packard smashed beneath a huge, uprooted oak tree. “Oh, Edward!”

“Forget it!” The wind tried to push him backwards, but he forced his way on, following the similarly afflicted innkeeper. They turned the corner and came to the cellar doors. The innkeeper went down first. Edward pushed Sofie down before him, clambering down last himself and pulling the doors shut behind him.

The proprietor’s wife and daughter sat in one corner of the cellar with a pile of blankets and another kerosene lamp. The girl, about Sofie’s age, was sobbing. The innkeeper joined them, his wife gasping with relief, then he handed a blanket to Sofie and Edward. Edward spread it out near the earthen wall and sat down. Sofie sat next to him, huddling close. He put his arm around her.

They looked at each other. Suddenly Edward smiled, and so did Sofie. Suddenly they laughed, in utter, shaky relief. Across the cellar, the innkeeper began to chuckle, too, and so did his wife and daughter. It was good to be alive, and everyone knew it.

And then Sofie remembered. She stopped laughing, unable to even breathe. Last night Edward had asked her to marry him. For all the wrong reasons. As atonement for his sins. How could she possibly agree?

A few hours later, they left the cellar. The sky was a robin’s-egg blue, with fat, puffy, pure white clouds drifting by. The sun was shining brightly, merrily. It was as if last night’s storm had never happened, as if the hurricane had been a bad dream.

But standing outside the inn, they looked around. The picket fence had been blown away. The houses across the street had all suffered damage; many windows were blown out. One half of an entire roof was missing on one green house; on another, a second-story balcony had collapsed onto the front porch. A cedar-shingled shed had been crushed by a fallen elm tree, and telegraph poles and lines were down.

Edward held her hand. “Wow.”

They turned back to the inn. The southeast corner of the roof was gone, and almost all of the windows on that side of the house were missing. Edward still held her hand, and Sofie thought about how easily they might have been hurt.

But they hadn’t been hurt. They were both fine. Did he even remember proposing to her?

Sofie swallowed and gazed up at his handsome profile. Perhaps it was better if he did not remember, because if the topic was forgotten, she would not have to say no.

But it hurt. How it hurt. Loving him hurt enough as it was, without the added factor of his having asked her to marry him out of a sense of decency and duty, instead of out of love and need and a desire to remain together for all of eternity.

Upstairs, they gathered their few things among the mess made by the storm. Desolate now, Sofie found her fringed silk wrap and reticule. How she dreaded returning to the city—how she dreaded the future. Edward waited for her in the doorless doorway. “How will we get back to New York?” she asked, hoping he had not detected the quaver in her voice.

“We can rent a horse and buggy. I inquired and the trains aren’t running yet. There are trees and debris on the tracks.”

Sofie nodded.

Edward added, his gaze direct, “We could spend another night. The landlord told me that he has some rooms downstairs which are fine. But your family must be hysterical with worry by now.”

Sofie did not say anything, because they were moving on to risky subject matter. Yet Edward would not let the
topic go. “Of course, once we tell them our plans, I’m sure it will all blow over,” he added.

Sofie froze in the center of the room, filled with dread and anguish. She had never dreamed a broken heart could hurt so much. “What plans, Edward?” Her tone was thick with tears.

He started, unsmiling. “Our plans to get married.”

Sofie found her voice, one of the greatest efforts of her life. “I did not accept your proposal, Edward.”

He stared.

She hugged her wrap and reticule to her chest. “It is very gallant of you to propose matrimony, of course,” she said, trying to sound calm and composed and sensible, “but it was not necessary.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I did not become your lover to force you to marry me,” Sofie said, chin high. She knew if she cried now, he would guess how much she loved him and why she was refusing, and it would be a miserable, pathetic coil, to be avoided at all costs. It appeared that she had nothing in this life but her pride—and of course, her memories and her work.

“Sofie.” Edward was pale beneath his rich tan. “You were a virgin.”

“I am aware of that. But that is not a good reason to get married.”

His blue eyes were wide and piercing. “Sofie—I made love to you three times.”

She felt herself blushing in response to his bald statement of fact, remembering the passion they had shared, at moments wild and thoroughly carnal, and at other moments, achingly tender and gentle and so loving, it almost defied description and recollection. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His jaw clenched. His temple throbbed visibly. His mouth had turned into a hard, light line. “What if you’re pregnant? With my child?”

It was salt on her open wound. “It’s not that time of month,” she lied.

His mouth seemed to soften slightly. “Sofie, we should get married. It’s the right thing to do.”

She was so very close to weeping. It was not the right thing to do—not like this. Marrying for
love
was the right thing to do, but that was not going to ever be. Not for her, not with him. Sounding unnaturally calm and almost like a schoolteacher, Sofie said, “I have no desire to get married, Edward. Have you forgotten? Next May I turn twenty-one and I am going to Paris to continue my studies of art. I am sorry.” Her voice broke. It was so hard to continue. “I cannot marry without love, Edward.”

He did not move. He looked as if he had been dealt a solid and painful blow in the region of his solar plexis. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode away. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

Sofie sank onto the bed, still redolent from their love-making, gripping the covers, crying. It was over, then, before it had even begun.

The house was in an uproar when they returned, but Sofie had known it would be.

She felt a moment of sickening dread when, as they alighted from the hired carriage, the front door flew open and they could hear Mrs. Murdock inside crying, “She’s here! She’s here! Sofie is back!”

Edward did not touch her. He had not touched her since she had refused his offer of wedlock six hours ago. Nor had he looked at her even once. And he had only spoken to her a few moments ago, to tell her that they would insist that nothing had happened. In other words, they would lie—since she did not want to marry him. Edward seemed to be angry, as if expecting her to change her mind before it was too late. But Sofie had agreed to participate in his plan.

Sofie had no choice but to allow Edward to help her down from the carriage. His touch was so impersonal now that she almost broke into tears on the spot. And she was so sick at heart that there was no room for shame or guilt. Everyone would be thinking the worst—and everyone was right—but Sofie did not give a damn.

As she and Edward walked up the steps, Lisa flew down them, in tears. “Sofie, thank God! Are you all right?” The sisters embraced on the front stoop.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Sofie said, holding Lisa’s glistening gaze. “I really am fine.” Her own eyes had become moist.

Lisa stared, then turned to look at Edward, both accusing and incredulous.

Suzanne stood in the doorway, ashen. “I should have known,” she said tersely. “Sofie. no one had any idea where you’d gone—dear God!” She started to cry.

Sofie left Edward and hurried to her mother, embracing her. “I’m sorry,” she said tremulously while Suzanne shed harsh tears. In her mother’s arms, it would be very easy to cry her heart out as she longed to do. “Edward took me for a drive and then the hurricane hit and we got stranded in Oyster Bay.”

Suzanne broke the embrace, blinking her eyes and turning furiously towards Edward. “I should have known that you are at the bottom of this.”

“Hold your horses, Mrs. Ralston.” Edward said coldly. “We had no choice but to remain out on the island last night. Had we tried to return, we might have been killed. As it was, my automobile was smashed in two.”

Suzanne started, her face draining of color.

“He is right,” Sofie said, and this much, at least, was the truth.

Suzanne put her arm around Sofie’s shoulders and pulled her close. Her face was twisted with revulsion. “What have you done to my daughter?”

Edward’s expression was impossible to read. “Nothing. Your daughter is the same as ever,”

“Mother,” Sofie said, attracting her attention. “I am fine. Really. You need not worry on that account. Edward was … a perfect gentleman.” She forced herself to smile. She knew that Suzanne had noticed the hesitation. She hated lying, but to marry under the circumstances would be far worse.

Sofie saw a hard and cynical look in Suzanne’s eyes and knew that she did not believe them.

Benjamin suddenly appeared on the threshold, joining the gathering on the front step. He paused beside Suzanne, grim. “Sofie, are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He looked at Edward. “Are you going to do the right thing, sir? Now that you have compromised her thoroughly?”