The Rebel and His Bride (16 page)

“You always did like me in red,” she murmured, her voice catching as he moved his hands around front and cupped her breasts.

“I always liked you best out of it,” he growled as his fingers plucked at her rapidly hardening nipples. He grasped the hem of her top and lifted it over her head, then unfastened her bra so her breasts could spill into his hands.

She moaned, closing her eyes at the incredible feelings. “God, Gregory, who’s venturing into dangerous territory now?”

He didn’t answer, preoccupied with kissing her back, from one shoulder blade to the other, while his hands caressed her breasts.

When she leaned back against him, he turned her to face him, his eyes darkening almost to black as his gaze lingered on her creamy breasts and rosy nipples. He cupped her breasts again and whispered, “I feel like my hands have been empty for nine years.” He kissed her once more. “And I feel like my heart has been empty for nine years.”

Annabelle clung to him to keep her weakening knees from buckling beneath her, her wet hands leaving damp spots on his cotton shirt. His body urged hers back against the kitchen counter, his denim-covered erection pressing into her abdomen.

“Are you trying to drive me insane?” she whispered against his mouth.

“I think I’m driving myself insane,” he muttered and lifted her, sitting her on the edge of the kitchen table. He kissed her again, heady dark kisses of need. How did he know what she wanted, needed, almost before she did? Just when she thought she’d go crazy if she didn’t feel his lips on her breasts, he took a nipple into his mouth. Just when she thought she couldn’t last another minute without touching his warm hard flesh, he tugged his shirt over his head so she could caress her fingers up and down his back. He urgently pushed her skirt to her waist and ran seeking hands over her thighs.

And just when she knew she couldn’t feel any more intensely than she already did, he slid off her panties and stroked her moist heat, proving that
she could. He petted and teased and tasted, and through the haze of feelings that surrounded her, nearly consuming her, flowed soft sweet words of love and need, heady promises of commitment and possession.

With his fingers he brought her to the edge, with his lips he nudged her over. When she had cried out in ecstasy while her body was still quivering, he took her mouth again.

He drew in a deep breath and kissed her one more time. He tugged the skirt of her dress down to cover her.

“We’d better stop while we still can.”

“You’re right,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against his chest. “Things are moving kind of fast.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Gregory whispered and kissed her briefly, but thoroughly, his lips lingering as if they didn’t want to release her. “And at the same time not nearly fast enough. What I really want to do is carry you off to my bed and show you in a dozen different ways how much I want you. How much I love you.” He drew in a deep breath and stepped away from her long enough to hunt down the bra and silk top he’d tossed aside just minutes before. “That’s what I want to do. What I’m going to do is help you get dressed, then keep my hands to myself before we set off the smoke detector.”

Gregory dressing her was almost as sexy as him undressing her. Almost. He drew the bra over her
arms, then smoothed the lacy cups in place before he fastened it. He gently tugged the silk top over her head a little at a time, kissing first her forehead, then her nose, then her chin as each was exposed. They were both breathing heavily by the time she was fully clothed.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting on the porch swing—Gregory swore it was safer sitting out in the open—and catching up on all the years they’d been apart. Annabelle shook her head at some of Gregory’s stories about a young minister fresh out of seminary, who was unconventional at the best of times, trying to fit into his first church—a most conventional church in northern Virginia.

She smiled at the thought of a younger Gregory showing up for a church cookout in shorts and tennis shoes, only to be sent home like a recalcitrant child to change into long pants. Ministers weren’t supposed to show their legs. Thank heavens White Creek allowed their ministers to be human, she thought.

They talked about books, music, politics, economics, philosophy. They talked as if trying to cover nine years’ worth of changes in one afternoon. They talked while they fixed and ate a light supper. They sat down to watch a movie on television and talked through that. They talked long after Virgie came home and went to bed. They talked until Virgie poked her head around the top
of the stairs during a highly charged political discussion and asked them to hold it down.

Then they whispered. Except that Gregory loved her throaty breathless-sounding whispers and wound up kissing her—which left her breathless for real. Finally, reluctantly, Gregory went home.

Annabelle went to Gregory’s Monday to fix dinner—or rather, to have him show her how to fix a vegetarian lentil-mushroom loaf with herb gravy. Not only was the food good, but Gregory was outstanding in the kitchen, better than she was. She didn’t mind. As long as he did most of the cooking, she wouldn’t even mind eating vegetarian. He kept his house clean but not antiseptic, just the way she kept her place. Maybe she had on rose-colored glasses, but it was beginning to seem that time had turned Gregory into the perfect man.

After dinner, they left the dishes in the sink and sat on the sofa kissing. “Should we be doing this?” Annabelle murmured as his lips nibbled around her ear.

“Probably not. We’re definitely playing with dynamite, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes.” She sighed as he ran a finger around the neck of her scoop-neck T-shirt. “Yes, we’re definitely—what did you call it?—venturing into dangerous territory here.”

“So let’s walk the line.” Gregory slid his hands
beneath the hem of her shirt, then groaned in frustration when the telephone rang. “Just as well,” he said. “It’s getting too warm in here anyway.”

He dashed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone on the fourth ring, then came out a few minutes later. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need to meet with the McKinleys for a little while this evening. A family problem. I’ll take you back to your grandmother’s.”

Annabelle tried to hide her disappointment. “No. I’ll stay here and wash the dishes and maybe you’ll get home before too late.”

“Leave the dishes. I’ll do them later, but I’d love to find you here when I get home.”

“I’ll do the dishes. After all, you cooked most of the dinner. Go on. I’ll wait.”

And wait she did. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. Eleven o’clock. Midnight. She was awakened by the barest touches on her face—a butterfly wing, a feather, angel hair. She opened her eyes to find Gregory’s face inches away, his gaze soft as he watched her. He pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for being so long, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay.” She gave him a sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“About one. Come on, I’ll take you home. I’m really sorry this ruined our evening, though. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night, okay? Whoops, not tomorrow night. I’m going to the Missionary Society’s slide show of missionaries in Brazil. Tomorrow
for lunch, then. I’ll take you to the newest restaurant in town, the Tastee Burger.”

“Do they have something there you can eat?” she asked around a yawn.

“I usually order the Tastee Burger Deluxe—minus the burger. They don’t mind. And they only charge me half price since they leave off the meat. I’ll pick you up about eleven-thirty.”

Halfway through lunch, Charlotte McKinley came into the Tastee Burger, her eyes red-rimmed. Gregory sat with her at another table talking while Annabelle stirred her melting milkshake with her straw and patiently watched his cheese fries get cold and gummy. It could be worse, she decided. He could have raced off to a demonstration.

He came over to her a few minutes later and said, “Do you mind driving yourself home? You can take my car. Charlotte will give me a ride home later and I’ll walk over to pick it up. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He handed her his keys and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll call you tonight after the meeting.”

Oh well, she thought as she drove home. She had to figure something like this would happen once in a while. When he’d left the night before, she’d wandered around his little house, curious about the man she’d so quickly fallen in love with again. When she’d opened the door of his study, she’d seen two solid walls of built-in bookshelves full of books on counseling.

And she’d seen something else that had surprised
her. A degree in counseling from the university in Norfolk. She’d never thought about it before, but she guessed counseling was an important part of being a minister. It couldn’t have been easy being a full-time minister as well as a part-time student. His dedication impressed her.

He called her that night after the meeting and she lay in her bed talking to him, wishing she was lying in
his
bed talking to him. Still, their conversation was sweet and satisfying. Not as satisfying as being with him, but satisfying anyway. And he promised her he’d come by Wednesday night after choir practice was over.

Wednesday night they cuddled in front of the television, fought over popcorn, and shared buttery kisses. The tension that had begun to creep in around the edges of Annabelle’s thoughts receded.

Until Thursday night. Gregory took her to a new seafood restaurant he’d heard about in Norfolk, but no sooner had they walked in the door and given the hostess his name than she gave him a message from Virgie. Annabelle could tell it wasn’t good news by the look on his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We’ve got to go back. It’s the McKinleys again.”

She forced a smile. “No problem, Gregory. Maybe we can try this again tomorrow night.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart, but I’m speaking at a rally over in Waverly at seven. I’ll come by afterward.”

“Sure.”

He cupped her face. “Look, it’s not like it was before. I promise. But Fleurique, a cosmetic company that tests on animals, is considering building a plant near Waverly. It’s important to let them know what they’re up against.”

Annabelle smiled again and nodded, but the uneasiness was back. She tried to push it aside, to ignore it, but it was getting harder to do.

Saturday night they had a wonderful dinner at Danni and Sebastian’s, and Annabelle found it easier to gloss over her doubts—though they didn’t go away. Still, it was good to see Gregory and Sebastian joke around and kid each other. It showed her another side to Gregory that she’d almost missed—a funny, whimsical side. It was real easy to fall in love with that side too.

Sunday he didn’t come for dinner because he had to drive back to Waverly after church for a meeting regarding Fleurique. He showed up midafternoon and took her for a drive to the beach. They held hands and walked on the sand for hours. When the sun went down, they sat on the cool sand and cuddled. But when Gregory brought up his proposal of marriage, Annabelle sidetracked him with kisses. She wasn’t ready to discuss that just yet.

The next week was more of the same. Monday, Gregory headed up the new youth outreach meeting. Tuesday he spent visiting various congregation members who were housebound for one reason or another. Wednesday night he had choir practice,
though he came by afterward for a couple of hours. Thursday night was another Stop Fleurique meeting and Friday night was another meeting with the McKinleys after a quick trip into Tidewater with Lily Jones to meet with someone from the Save the Bay Foundation. And, of course, he was in his church office every day from nine to two—except Wednesdays when he volunteered at a homeless shelter in Norfolk.

Annabelle tried to be understanding and supportive, she really did. She tried to grin and bear it, but it got harder and harder to grin without clenching her teeth. To make things worse, she was getting the unsettling feeling that this wasn’t just a flux. This was normal. Yet when she brought up the Save the Bay Foundation and the Stop Fleurique campaign, he insisted those were especially urgent things that needed his attention.

The spare minutes she did spend with Gregory were wonderful. She wasn’t just in love with him; he’d rapidly become her best friend as well. They could talk for hours—when he had time to talk—and never run out of things to say, yet they were both equally comfortable sitting together in companionable silence. Of course, permeating everything was the passion that simmered just beneath the surface, constantly threatening to bubble over.

The following Monday, Annabelle showed up at Gregory’s at ten. He’d left the church secretary holding down the fort for the day and intended to take Annabelle into Richmond to see the museum
and a botanical garden. As they left, the phone rang.

“Don’t answer it,” Annabelle said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Gregory grimaced. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I won’t be but a minute.”

I’m sorry, sweetheart
. She sure seemed to hear those words a lot these days, she thought, her face wrinkling into a frown. When Gregory came back into the room, she quickly smoothed her features and put on a smile, then it, too, faded when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hilary Cochran. She’s had another heart attack and she’s going into surgery for a quadruple bypass in a little while.”

“So you’re going to the hospital.”

He nodded.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. It’ll help to have you there.”

Last time Annabelle had been in the Norfolk hospital, it had been a long, long night. This, she could tell, would be a long, long day. Mrs. Cochran’s daughter, Pat, and her husband had been staying in White Creek since Mrs. Cochran had come home from the hospital, so they were right there. Her son was flying in again from Ohio.

Annabelle once more marveled at Gregory and how unfailingly supportive and caring he was with Pat and Tim. He talked with them, prayed with them, even made phone calls for them. After several
hours he finally came back over to sit next to Annabelle.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked. “Okay?”

She nodded. “What’s going on?”