Iris Johansen (19 page)

The countess smoothed her own sleek chignon with one graceful hand. “How ungallant of you, Rafe. Miss Cannon looks quite sweet,” she said softly, with a tinge of smug satisfaction on her face. “But then, I recall you always did prefer sophistication to girlishness.”

Janna looked up calmly to meet Rafe’s furious gaze. “It’s regrettable that you don’t like it,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I may decide to wear it loose permanently.”

“The hell you will,” Rafe muttered savagely. He drew a deep, steadying breath as he observed the shocked confusion on the faces of Dawson and the countess, and he made an obvious effort to regain his composure. “I think I’ll take that drink after all, Pat,” he said abruptly. “Make it a bourbon—a double.”

From that point on the evening proceeded to disintegrate with predictable rapidity. During dinner Rafe was so surly and moody that even the beautiful Marina was discouraged and turned her charm on Pat Dawson. Janna’s only desire was to get through this nightmare of an evening without a public confrontation with Rafe. That a private one would be forthcoming was more than clear from the way he kept staring at her from the head of the table, his gaze returning again and again to her hair with baleful animosity.

Evidently he had no intention of waiting for the end of the evening. They’d no sooner returned to the living room, and Stokley was beginning to serve the
coffee, when Rafe strode to the chair where Janna was sitting and pulled her to her feet.

“You’ll have to excuse Janna and me for a moment,” he said tersely, his hand on her elbow. He propelled her toward the French doors. “We have something to discuss.”

“But it’s cold out there, Rafe,” Marina protested hurriedly. “Surely your conversation could wait.”

“We won’t be long,” Rafe said determinedly as he opened the door. “And Janna has a shawl.”

The door closed behind them, but Rafe didn’t pause. He half pushed, half pulled her with him across the terrace and down the stairs leading to the formal gardens. It wasn’t until they were some distance from the house that he stopped and whirled to face her, his hands closing forcefully on her shoulders. There was a full moon, and the fierceness of Rafe’s expression could be clearly discerned.

“Why, damn it?” he asked harshly, giving her a little shake. “Why, Janna?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “Aren’t you overreacting?” she asked coolly. “It’s just a hairstyle.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it,” he said bluntly. “That belonged to me. That part of you was
mine
, damn it.”

“You’re wrong, Rafe,” she said. “There’s no part of me that belongs to anyone but myself.” She stared at him defiantly. “Just as no part of you belongs to me—as the Countess D’Agliano would doubtless agree.”

“I knew you’d throw Marina in my face,” he said roughly. “She has nothing to do with this. I didn’t invite her here, and you’re the only woman I want in my bed tonight. This concerns no one but ourselves.” His hands left her shoulders and buried themselves in her hair, tilting her head back to look into her face. His own face was pale and haggard in the moonlight. “Sometimes I think you’re trying to drive
me crazy. You knew how I’d react to this.” He tugged her hair painfully. “You just wanted to see me writhing at the stake. I hope you enjoyed it, Janna. I could have killed Dawson tonight when I came in and saw him playing with your hair. I could kill you right now for letting him.”

“Sometimes I wish you would,” she burst out passionately. “Anything would be better than living like this.” Suddenly the tears were running down her face. “I can’t stand this any more, Rafe.”

“Do you think I can?” he asked. “In a week you’re going to walk out of my life without a backward glance.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Do you know that I’ve started to count the days? God, how the mighty have fallen!”

The self-disgust in his voice hurt her unbearably. Without a backward glance? She would be looking over her shoulder at these weeks with Rafe for the rest of her life. “You probably won’t miss me for very long,” she said huskily. “You already have a replacement waiting in the wings. The countess will be more than happy to comfort you.”

A swift flame of anger lit his eyes. “Damn, you’re hard,” he said bitterly. His hands dropped from her hair, and he stepped back. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough to rid myself of this obsession. There are other women in the world. Why shouldn’t I let Marina practice what she does best? As I recall, she can be damn amusing.” His face was stormy. “For that matter, why should I wait until you leave, to begin the cure? Tonight is as good as any other night.” He whirled and strode swiftly back to the house.

Janna gazed after him, not even noticing the tears still running down her cheeks. She felt almost numb with despair, and she welcomed the numbness gladly. The pain would come soon enough. Without thinking, she turned in the opposite direction from the house and hurried through the garden to the woods beyond.
There was no way she could return to the living room and watch Marina and Rafe together. She wouldn’t be able to bear being a spectator even to the opening moves of the sexual minuet between them.

She didn’t know how much later it was when she found herself wandering aimlessly on the beach. The waves struck the rocks, spraying her with a fine mist that clung clammily to her skin and dampened the pink velvet dress. Somewhere she’d kicked off her high-heeled sandals, and the sand felt cold and grainy beneath her bare feet. It must have been hours, she thought wearily, for the moon was considerably lower than when Rafe and she had quarreled in the garden.

She slowly climbed the winding path to the top of the cliff, feeling oddly lethargic. She hesitated at the top, then instinctively turned away from the path that led to the castle, and moved toward the gazebo.

She was vaguely conscious of feeling an icy chill, but she couldn’t determine whether it was physical or emotional. She curled up wearily on the cushions on the bench of the gazebo, wishing dazedly that she had her pink shawl to use as a cover. She must have dropped it somewhere on the beach. Well, it didn’t really matter. The cold was vaguely comforting, in a strange way. At least it gave her something to think about besides Rafe and Marina D’Agliano. She felt a poignant jolt of pain and quickly blocked out the thought. She mustn’t think of anything, she thought drowsily. If she didn’t think, then there would be no pain. It was all very simple. So simple.

“My God!”

The fervent imprecation was breathed in Rafe’s rough, sandpaper voice, and Janna felt a stirring of unease. He was angry again. He was always angry now. Then she was being carried, crushed against Rafe’s solid chest, her face buried in the rough wool of his fisherman’s sweater. There was something
wrong about that, she thought vaguely, remembering the dark suit he’d worn at dinner. But the clean male scent was undeniably Rafe’s, as was the strength of the arms that enfolded her. The voice was Rafe’s, too, muttering disjointed curses against the top of her head as he strode swiftly through the woods. Anger.

“Don’t!” The word was surprisingly hard to get out, and it was barely a whisper.

Rafe heard it, however, and his gaze swooped down to meet her own with swift concern.

“Don’t be angry with me anymore,” she murmured faintly, nestling her ear closer to the strong beat of his heart. “I’m so tired.”

Rafe’s arms tightened fiercely about her. “Why are you so damn stupid?” he asked huskily, pressing a soft kiss on her temple. “Why the hell did you run away? I’ve been going crazy. I must have searched ten miles of that beach tonight.”

“Sorry,” she murmured drowsily. The shadowy planes of his face were harsh above her, and lines of pain were graven about his lips. She reached up to trace those lines, but it suddenly seemed too much of an effort, and her hand fell limply back to her side. “I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“Shut up, damn it,” Rafe said raggedly, his stride escalating as he neared the house. “For God’s sake, just be quiet, Janna.”

She obediently subsided and closed her eyes, cuddling closer to his warm strength with the confiding trust of a small child. She must have dozed, for the next moment of awareness was of being placed gently on the black velvet coverlet on the king-sized bed in the master suite.

Rafe’s hands were quickly stripping her, pulling the damp pink velvet dress over her head and tossing it carelessly aside.

“No,” she murmured protestingly, opening drowsy eyes. “Don’t do that. I’m cold, Rafe.”

His hands were busy removing her bra and bikini panties. “You’re more than that,” he said grimly. “You’re half frozen.” He looked down at her bare feet and drew a long, shaky breath. “Where the hell are your shoes?”

“I don’t know. I must have lost them somewhere,” she said vaguely.

Rafe growled another impatient imprecation and was stripping off his clothes while she watched him dreamily. Was he going to make love to her? She was a little tired, but she had no doubt Rafe would make her forget about that. He had only to touch her and she was on fire. She could use a little of that fire now. She was so cold.

Then she was being carried again, this time into the bathroom. Rafe let her slide down his body to the floor while he opened the door of the shower stall and adjusted the spray, still holding her cradled against his warmth. When the temperature of the water met with his approval, he drew her underneath the water and closed the shower door, still holding her in that deliciously protective embrace.

The hot water poured over them in a wonderfully warming stream, while Rafe’s hands gently massaged her back and shoulders. Her arms slipped around his waist, her hands linked loosely as she stood lost in dreamy contentment while the steamy heat seemed to seep into her very bones. Rafe’s hands left her back and reached behind her to the overhead rack. Then they were buried in her hair, gently massaging the shampoo into her salt-laden tresses. It was marvelously soothing, and she murmured in contentment, her arms tightening around Rafe’s waist. She felt a butterfly kiss on her brow, and then he was rinsing her hair under the spray, his hands carefully guarding her face and eyes from the shampoo. It gave her a warmly treasured feeling to be so gently cosseted, and she opened her eyes to tell him so.

His face was frowningly intent. “Shut your eyes,” he said gruffly. “You’ll get soap in them.”

A smile of tender amusement curved her lips as she closed her eyes once more and stood docilely while he painstakingly rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. She had heard that rough note of growling concern before. Only then, it had been uttered by a lioness chastising her mischievous cub.

“I’m glad you’re so happy,” Rafe said dryly, as he turned off the water and opened the shower door. “I should have known putting me through hell would amuse you.” He enfolded her in an enormous bath towel and was drying her with incredible gentleness, despite the roughness of his tone.

“You seem to be making a habit of this,” she said bemusedly. He threw away the first towel and swaddled her securely in a big bath sheet before lifting her onto the vanity.

“It wouldn’t be necessary if you wouldn’t be so blasted careless about yourself,” he said twisting a towel, turban fashion, about her head. “Don’t you know people can die of exposure in temperatures warmer than this?” He was drying himself now, with brisk efficiency, and he paused to stare at her accusingly.

Janna’s lips quirked involuntarily. What diverse elements composed the character of this man? For a moment he’d looked like a cross little boy, yet at other times he was the most aggressively mature male she’d ever known.

He threw his towel down on the vanity and scooped her up again. She was beginning to feel like a bundle of laundry, she thought humorously as Rafe tucked her into bed and climbed in beside her, pulling the velvet cover over both of them.

“I can’t move,” she complained, trying to extricate her arms from the towel swathing her like a straitjacket.

“Lie still,” he ordered curtly, pulling her blanketed
form into his arms and burying his face in the hollow of her throat.

“But I feel like a mummy,” she protested, wriggling to escape the suffocating folds of terry cloth. “Rafe, I can’t breathe. At least let me—” She broke off abruptly. It wasn’t possible, was it? Yet the tiny drop of moisture on her throat was real, and Rafe’s lashes pressed against her flesh were undeniably damp. “Rafe?” she asked uncertainly.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice muffled against her. “I thought you’d fallen from that cliff onto the rocks below and been washed out to sea. I almost went crazy when I couldn’t find you. Damn it! Damn it all to hell! You had no right to do that to me!”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said hesitantly, lying very still in his arms. “I guess I didn’t think. I just didn’t want to go back to the house.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he growled, and she caught her breath at the aching torment in his voice. “I knew I’d hurt and humiliated you before I left you in the garden tonight. I guess I wanted to get a little of my own back.” His arms tightened around her. “But you didn’t have to run away. You knew that I wouldn’t touch Marina.”

She smiled tenderly at the accusing note in his voice. “I don’t see how I could,” she said softly. “You seemed pretty determined.”

He ignored that with sublime arrogance. “You should have known I wouldn’t want anyone but you,” he insisted stubbornly. “You had no right to scare me like that.”

“I won’t do it again,” she assured him solemnly, a thread of laughter running through her voice.

“It’s not funny, damn it,” he said, raising his head to look down at her with a frown. Then, as he met her eyes, his granite-hard features softened, his dark eyes becoming liquidly gentle and the curve of his mouth beautifully tender. “I want to tell you
something,” he said huskily. “When I was running all over that blasted beach, not knowing if I’d ever see you again, I made a discovery. You know that emotion that neither of us knows anything about? I found I’ve become a world-class expert on the subject.”

Janna felt her heart leap in her breast as if it had been touched by an electric current, and her eyes widened in shock. “Rafe,” she breathed softly.