Harvest Moon (11 page)

Extending her hand, she permitted him to pull her to her feet. “I ate too much.”

“You don’t eat enough.”

“I do eat,” she protested.

“Not enough,” he argued softly.

“Do I look anorexic to you?”

“No.” And she didn’t. Her height and narrow hips made her appear much slimmer than she actually was. He glanced down at her sandals. “Do you want to go into the house and change your shoes?”

She smiled up at him through her lashes. “Where are you taking me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Nowhere in particular.”

“I’ll keep the sandals on.”

After cooking, both had retreated to their bedrooms, where they showered and changed. Aaron had exchanged his jeans and T-shirt for a pair of khakis, a matching shirt, and a pair of woven leather loafers, while she opted for a red silk shell, matching slim skirt, and leather sandals.

Aaron was transfixed by the rich color contrasting with her golden-brown flesh. Of all of the colors he had seen her wear, he preferred her in red.

Taking her hand, he led her down the patio, across the courtyard, and toward the garden. A half-moon lit up the clear sky, providing a modicum of light along with the lanterns strung around the perimeter of the courtyard and along the path leading to the garden.

The brush of flying insects on their exposed flesh, the sounds of scurrying night creatures, and the cloying fragrance of blooming flowers hung heavily in the air, and the more they ventured into the garden the closer Regina pressed against Aaron’s body. He felt the slight trembling of her hand as they left the light behind and were swallowed up by a blanketing darkness.

“What is it?” he whispered at the same time she turned and clutched at his clothes in a desperate clawing that quickened his pulse.

“Take me back,” she gasped frantically, hyperventilating.

“Where,
Princesa
?”

“Back to the light!”

Her trembling increased until she shook uncontrollably. Bending slightly, he swept her up effortlessly in his arms and retraced their steps, not stopping until he mounted the staircase and placed her on the large bed in his bedroom.

Turning on a bedside lamp, he sat down beside her, counting the beats of her runaway pulse. It was as fast as if she had run a grueling race. Leaving the bed, he walked into the adjoining bathroom and returned within minutes with a cool cloth, placing it over her moist forehead.

Tears leaked from under her eyelids as she cried silently, praying for the demons to flee and leave her in peace. Even after seventeen years they refused to relinquish their hold on her mind.

Running his fingertips over her moist cheeks, Aaron leaned down and pressed a healing kiss on her mouth. “It’s all right,
Princesa
. I’m here for you,” he crooned, hoping to calm her.

“They won’t leave me in peace,” she cried, burying her face
against his strong throat. “After so many years they still come back to haunt me.”

“Tell me about it, Baby.”

Opening her eyes, she stared up at his dark, handsome face through her tears. Would he understand? Would he laugh at her for something she should have gotten over years ago?

“I’m afraid of the dark,” she whispered.

He gave her a tender smile, nodding. “Go on, Baby,” he urged in a quiet tone.

“It happened a week before I turned ten.”

“Go on, Baby,” he repeated when she hesitated.

“I was kidnapped.”

Lowering his head, Aaron pressed his lips to the side of her scented neck, cursing to himself. Didn’t her family know how to protect their children? Why weren’t they aware that their children were the most vulnerable when it came to kidnapping and extortion?

“Can you tell me about it?”

She nodded, savoring his warmth, strength, and protection.

“M
y parents left me with my grandparents in West Palm Beach for a few days so I could visit my cousins, who lived in Palm Beach. My aunt Nancy asked me to sleep over at her house, but I decided to stay with my grandmother and grandfather because one of their pedigreed cocker spaniels had delivered a litter of puppies. I remembering sitting on a stool in a gardening shed watching them, but I can’t remember any of what happened next.”

“You don’t know who abducted you?”

She shook her head. “No. The only thing I remembered was waking up in a locked closet and pounding on the door until my hands were swollen. And when I pleaded to be let out to use the bathroom, I was gagged and blindfolded. Someone watched me whenever I had to relieve myself to make certain I would not remove the blindfold.”

“Was it a man or a woman?”

Her face burned in remembrance. “It was always a man. Each
time I was let out of the closet to eat or use the bathroom I was blindfolded.”

“How did you manage to see to eat?”

“I didn’t. They bound my hands behind my back and fed me.”

Aaron’s shock turned to a white-hot fury as he listened to the horror no one—especially a nine-year-old child—should have had to endure.

“How long were you held captive?”

Sighing heavily, she mumbled, “Six days.”

Shifting, he eased her over his body, his arms tightening protectively around her waist. “What happened after that?” His voice was soft, coaxing.

“My uncle and his friend found me. They made it seem as if it had been a game where they had to rescue me, and somehow I managed to repress the entire incident until I returned to Florida.”

“Where did you go after the abduction?”

“Ocho Rios, Jamaica. My mother and I lived with my uncle for six months before we moved back to Florida with my father.”

“Why did you move back?”

“My mother was pregnant, and she was experiencing complications, so my father moved us back to the States.”

Running his hand over her hair, Aaron closed his eyes. She had relaxed so that her slow, even breathing was a soft whisper under his ear. He had wanted Regina in his arms and in his bed, but he hadn’t wanted his role to be that of comforter.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“I used to wake up screaming, and it would take hours before the household would settle down after each episode. I stopped visiting my cousins because I didn’t want them to know that I was afraid to sleep without a light on in the room. My parents sent me to a psychiatrist, who prescribed a very mild tranquilizer to help me sleep.”

“I don’t advocate medicating children.”

“My father shares a similar belief. He took me to a prominent child psychologist who helped me work through most of my anxiety. I joined the drama club when I entered junior high school and found a way to escape completely. On stage and in character I did not have to be Regina Cole, but could be anyone I chose to be.”

“Are you saying that acting became a form of therapy for you?”

“It
was
my therapy. As Regina I was always looking over my shoulder, wondering who was following me. But on stage I was Hamlet’s Ophelia or Othello’s Desdemona, with nothing to fear except the audience’s reaction to my performance.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes, feeling safer than she ever had in her life. She’d relived the entire ordeal in her head, and she was no longer afraid to allow the images to surface. They came back, rushing through her mind like frames of film—the suffocating darkness, the blind humiliation of someone watching her relieve herself, and the macabre laugh whenever the food shoved into her mouth dribbled down her chin onto her soiled clothing. She had slept in the small, dark space with only the smell of her unwashed body to remind her that she still lived.

“You’re safe now,
Princesa.”

Smiling, she nodded against his chest. “I know, Aaron.”

They lay together, their breathing deepening until they fell asleep, entwined in each other’s arms.

Regina woke up in complete darkness, her heart racing. She was wrong. The demons hadn’t left. They had vanished when she related her abduction and captivity to Aaron, but once the lights were extinguished they’d come back like a silent, creeping fog blanketing her sanity. The humming began, low and seductive until it grew louder and louder, becoming hysterical screams which sounded like someone being tortured.

“Help her,” she pleaded as tears flooded her eyes and stained her cheeks. “Oh, please help her. Don’t leave her to die in there.”

Aaron came awake immediately. He sat up, reaching out for Regina, who thrashed wildly on the bed. Holding her firmly against his body, he pressed his mouth to her ear.

“They’re gone, Regina,” he crooned. “They can’t hurt you.”

“They—they’re still here.” She sobbed uncontrollably. “They want to kill me.”

Stroking her hair, he shook his head. “No, Baby. They can’t get you because I won’t let them. Didn’t I promise to protect you?”

Regina heard the man’s deep, soothing voice and the demons fled, leaving her in peace. The voice sounded familiar. At first she thought it was her father’s, but it did not have the soft, drawling cadence that identified Martin Cole was from the southern region of the United States. This voice was more nasal, claiming a midwest twang. As a drama student she had studied accents and regional dialects, and there was a time when she could identify the country or region of anyone who opened their mouths to speak.

She inhaled deeply, identifying the now familiar cologne worn by Aaron Spencer. Then she remembered. She was in Aaron’s bedroom, and in his bed.

“Aaron.” His name came out in a long, shuddering whisper.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here for you.”

“Turn on the light.”

He continued stroking her hair, his hand moving over the curls spiraling around his fingers. “No, Baby.”

Her breathing quickened. “Please.” She managed to swallow a sob.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you in the dark.”

“Take me back to my room.” There was no mistaking her rising anxiety as her trembling voice broke.

“No. You’re going to spend the night with me, and when the sun comes up you’ll realize—”

“Take me back now!” she shouted, interrupting him.

Aaron tightened his hold on her waist as she tried escaping his grip. “No, Regina.”

Her right hand came up, but he was too quick for her. His fingers caught her wrist, holding her with a minimal of effort. “Don’t fight with me,” he warned between clenched teeth. “I promised you I would take care of you, and I will,” he continued, this time in a softer voice. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.” He felt some of the rigidness leave her limbs. “My father protected you and, like him, I’ll also protect you. You trusted Oscar, didn’t you?”

Biting down on her lower lip, she nodded. After a pause, she said, “Yes.”

“I’m his son,
Princesa
. Blood of his blood and flesh of his flesh. And I’ve taken an oath that I will protect you the same way he did when he was alive. If I never ask anything of you, I’m going to ask that you trust me.”

Regina half-listened to Aaron as she struggled with the lingering vestiges of her fear. How could she vanquish seventeen years of fear in one night? Could she actually trust Aaron to protect her from her unseen enemies? He could not spend the rest of his life looking after her. He had promised to remain in Mexico with her until she left for the States, but had he hoped he could help eradicate the fears she had carried for more than half her life in less than a month? What did he intend to do—sleep with her every night?

She could demand that he let her return to her bedroom, but something told her Aaron Spencer would not relent. He was determined to force her to remain in his bed, and in the darkened bedroom.

Going completely pliant in his arms, she curved her body into his. “I’ll try.”

He let out an audible sigh. “Thank you.”

They lay together, monitoring each other’s heat and respiration. Aaron had removed only his shoes, but Regina felt every muscle of his body as if he were completely nude. Lying in his embrace made her aware of the solid hardness of his chest and thighs, the power in his upper arms, and the unleashed strength in his large hands.

What was she doing? She was sharing a bed with a man whom she desired from the moment she saw him. There was something so subtly virile about Aaron Spencer that the times she caught herself staring at him she found it difficult to draw a normal breath.

Whenever he caught her staring, he did not look away but returned it boldly with one of his own. She had come to look for the intensity in his dark, deep-set, slanting eyes, wondering what was he thinking. And she did wonder if he knew how much she wanted him, and that the wanting was of a physical nature.

Resting her head on his thick shoulder, she closed her eyes. The demons had finally left her, and in their place was a deep, silent longing to know what it was that made her crave the man holding her to his heart.

Her breathing deepened in a slow, measured rhythm, belaying the rush of desire racing headlong throughout her body as the realization washed over her again that she wanted Aaron to make love to her. She wanted him to introduce her to a world of passion she had never known.

She had never known or glimpsed passion—not even when her two movie roles called for on-screen lovemaking with handsome and very popular male costars.

Turning to her right, she pressed a light kiss at the side of his strong mouth, eliciting a slight intake of breath from him. “Thank you for being here for me.”

Aaron smiled, lowering his head until his lips were inches
from hers. “You’re very welcome,” he murmured seconds before his mouth closed over hers.

What had begun as a gentle brushing of lips deepened until Aaron moved over her body, pressing her down to the mattress so that there was a sweet, deep intimacy to their kiss.

He felt the blood pool in his groin, and knew he was lost. The desire he had fought from the instant he saw Regina Cole-Spencer exploded uncontrollably until he was shaking from the passion, struggling not to erupt and embarrass himself. He did not want to pour out his passions on the bed, but inside of the woman writhing under him.

Pulling back, he buried his face in her unbound hair, which spread out on the pillow in a cascade of black, silken curls.
“Princesa,”
he groaned as if in pain.

“Aaron?” She answered his groan with her own moan.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you. Tell me now if you want to take this further.”

Her breath was coming faster. “And if I say I don’t?”

“Then I’ll stop.”

A haze of passion swept over Regina, her mind reeling in confusion. Her body wanted Aaron, needed him, while she knew it was wrong to remain in his arms and in his bed. Could she sleep with him in the dark and not experience guilt in the full sunlight? Could she successfully affect indifference after sleeping with him when it came time for her to leave Mexico? What was it about Aaron Spencer that made her so wanton and so reckless? She knew the answers to all of her questions would come from offering herself to him.

Aaron did not want to stop. He wanted to take off her clothes, then his own, and feast on her body like a man dying of hunger and thirst. Making love to her would right all of the wrongs, heal all of the wounds, reconcile his past with his present.

She’s your father’s widow
, a silent voice reminded him. She might be Oscar’s widow, but Regina Spencer was the woman he
had fallen in love with—the woman who had bewitched him, the woman who challenged him to his face, and still he wanted and desired her, the woman who warned him that whatever they might share in Mexico would become a part of their past and remain their past.

He cradled her face gently between his large hands. “What is it going to be?” he whispered against her parted lips. “Yes or no?”

Regina closed her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see her expression in the darkness. The heat flooding her breasts increased, sweeping down and settling between her thighs while bringing a fiery heat that made it impossible for her to remain motionless. At the same time, she felt Aaron’s surging hardness throbbing against her thighs. It was too late. Too late for her retreat. It was too late for both of them.

“Yes!” she gasped.

She wasn’t certain of what was happening as everything fused into a slow-moving act which made her feel as if she were an observer instead of a participant.

Aaron left the bed and removed his clothes, she listening to the whisper of fabric grazing his skin as he took off his shirt, slacks, and briefs. He returned to the bed, the heat of his muscled physique enveloping her when he relieved her of the dress and the delicate scrap of silk concealing her virginal body.

She hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath until after he had pulled her into a tender embrace where her nakedness touched his, making her aware of how different their bodies were.

“Aaron?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

“Yes,
Princesa?
”

Swallowing several times to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat, she wondered how was she going to tell him that it was her first time, that she had never shared her body with a man.

“You’re going to have to help me with this.” Her fingers were
splayed over his chest. “You’re going to have to show me how to please you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling. “You don’t have to do anything. You please me because I’m here with you. You please me just by existing.”

That was not what she meant, but he did not give her the opportunity to explain herself when he took possession of her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that elicited a rush of moisture between her thighs. She squeezed them together to stop the pulsing, but to no avail. His mouth moved lower, to her breasts, and she was lost, lost in a maelstrom of desire which set her aflame with a surge of desire that shattered her dammed-up sexuality.