If Ever I Loved You (6 page)

His hands gripped her shoulders before she could see them
coming and move away. "The hell I haven't!" he shouted. "You married
me
,
remember?"

The nerve of him! The unmitigated gall! She tried to twist
away from him, but his fingers dug into her flesh as he hauled her
closer.

She pushed against his chest with the palms of her hands
as she cried, "That was never a marriage and you know it! You couldn't
wait to take advantage of what looked like an excuse to end it, and
your lawyer came around two days later with annulment papers and made
it official. Now get out of here. Go home to your wife and leave me
alone!"

His painful grip on her shoulders loosened and a look of
surprise crossed his face. "Wife?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, wife." She tried again to pull away but he held her
firm. "Did you think I hadn't heard that you married Veronica after the
annulment? Or that the two of you live most of the time in Europe? Had
you forgotten that art circles have sharp grapevines?"

All emotion drained from his features and they settled
into an impenetrable mask. "Veronica's dead," he said coldly. "She was
killed two years ago in a skiing accident in Switzerland."

A wave of horror swept through Gina, melting the rage that
had built up within her. Veronica dead. That beautiful, willful woman
who had all the advantages life could give. She'd been vicious and Gina
had hated her, but she'd never wished her dead! And Peter. What had
Veronica's death done to him?

She realized that she'd been staring at him without really
seeing him. In an instinctive gesture she reached up and touched his
cheek with her fingers. A muscle twitched in his jaw as she whispered,
"Oh Peter, I'm so sorry."

His hands left her shoulders and his arms encircled her
waist as he cradled her against his tall lean body and rubbed the cheek
with the rough contour of his jaw. "So am I," he murmured.

For a long moment they stood silently embracing, their
bodies moving together as one. She could feel his heart beating in
rhythm with her own, and the tangy scent of citrus shaving lotion
blended with his own warm maleness to produce a highly sensual aroma
that stirred repressed longings deep inside her.

Peter was the first to break the spell. "Why didn't you
answer my letters, Ginny Lea?"

She pushed away from him and this time he let her go.
"What letters?"

"When I returned to San Francisco and found you gone I
wrote to you at your parents' last address and asked that it be
forwarded," he explained. "I know you received the letter because I
never got it back, but you never answered it."

Gina ran her hand through her raven locks in a gesture of
frustration. Was there no end to the evils he could think up to accuse
her of? Was he still bent on punishing her for her so-called sins?
Well, she wasn't going to let him do that. She was a big girl now.
She'd grown up in the last seven years. She was no longer eighteen,
wildly in love, and quiveringly vulnerable. He could only hurt her now
if she let him, and that she would not do.

She took a deep breath and replied. "I didn't answer your
nonexistent letter because I never received it. Don't lie to me, Peter,
I'm not stupid. We left a forwarding address at the post office. If
you'd mailed a letter to me I would have gotten it."

Peter's light skin flushed darkly and his fists clenched
and unclenched at his sides. "Hell, woman," he roared. "Don't you ever
admit to any of your wrongdoings? And you have the brass to stand there
and call
me
a liar! I not only wrote to you once,
but after a couple of weeks when I received no reply I wrote again. Now
don't try to tell me you didn't get either letter because that's just
too much of a coincidence. One lost in the mail, maybe. Two, never."

Gina sank wearily down on the chair she had recently
vacated. "This is getting us nowhere, Peter," she said tonelessly.
"Please, just leave. Go back to San Francisco or Europe or wherever it is that you live
and leave me alone."

In a move that caught her by surprise Peter hunkered down
in front of her and put a hand on either side of her waist. His blue
eyes looked deeply into her violet ones. "But I can't leave you alone,
Ginny Lea," he murmured roughly and pulled her forward so she slid off
the chair and onto her knees on the floor.

Before she could protest his mouth covered hers in a hard
punishing kiss. Her lips parted in a gasp admitting his seeking,
plundering tongue. She struggled, pounding her fists on his back, but
his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her between his thighs,
making her aware of his taut, hard muscles and the urgency of his need
for her. Her body ignited like dry straw under a torch and it was as it
had been years ago, only more so. With a moan of surrender her arms
clasped around his neck and she pressed even closer in a frenzied
desire to assuage his male needs and to ease the burning ache in her
own body.

Their lovemaking was so intense that she was totally
unprepared when he suddenly unclasped her arms from around him and
pushed her away. His breath was coming in short rasping pants as he
stood and looked down at her bewildered upturned face.

"Oh no, Ginny Lea," he said, "I can't leave you alone
because you belong to me. I never filed those annulment papers. Like it
or not you're still my wife and you can forget any plans you've made to
marry Stewart Tobias!"

He turned quickly and walked out of the house, slamming
the door behind him, and she could hear his heavy footsteps on every
one of the eighteen wooden steps before he reached the sidewalk.

His wife! Peter had said she was still his wife! Oh
please, no!

Gina sat back on her heels and buried her ravaged face in
her hands as dry sobs shook her slender frame. Once more Peter Van
Housen had brought her to her knees and her defenses against him had
been as effective as a sprinkling can at an inferno!

The sun was still shining brightly at seven o'clock but
Gina had wilted long before then. Her head ached from the effort she'd
put into concentrating on the business of answering her customers'
interminable questions and now and then selling them a picture or a
small, relatively inexpensive sculpture. Usually she loved the tourists
with their inquisitive expressions, their bubbling laughter and their
bulging wallets, but today her nerves were rubbed raw and her hand was
unsteady as she fitted the key in the lock of the gallery door.

A voice from behind made her jump. "I've been waiting for
you to lock up. Come, I'll take you to dinner."

She closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to ease the
pounding in her head and regain her composure, then turned to face
Peter Van Housen. She should have known he'd do the unexpected. All day
long she'd jumped every time the little bell signaled the opening of
the door. She'd known he would return but she'd expected him earlier,
not now when she'd finally let down her guard and was confident of
reprieve.

She dropped her key in her purse and sighed. "Not tonight,
Peter, I haven't the stamina for another encounter with you. Perhaps
tomorrow."

He took her arm and started to walk with her. "You'll feel
better once you've had a drink. We'll go to the Mendocino Lodge. I'll
have dinner sent up to my room and we can talk."

He stopped in front of a sleek, shiny black Jaguar and
leaned down to open the door on the passenger side. She pulled away
from him angrily. "I'm not going to your room with you. Call me
tomorrow and we'll arrange something more public."

She tried to brush past him but his fingers clamped around
her wrist. "Grow up, Ginny Lea," he snapped. "That virginal innocence
routine doesn't work with me anymore, remember? Besides, I'm not
proposing an orgy, just a quiet talk."

She glared at him. "Not in your room."

His grip lessened and he shrugged. "Have it your way,
we'll eat in the Lodge dining room in full view of all the other
diners. Is that public enough for you?"

He helped her step into the low-slung sports car and shut
the door.

They did not dine in full view of the rest of the diners
as he had promised, but at a secluded table partially hidden by lush
hanging begonias in shades of scarlet and yellow and salmon. The glass
wall behind them enhanced the garden setting with a view of the forest
in which the Lodge was nestled.

Peter ordered Scotch on the rocks for both of them and
Gina didn't object although she seldom drank whiskey. Maybe the smooth
power of the amber liquid would give her the strength she needed to get
through this discussion. She fingered the moist crystal glass as she
said, "All right, Peter, I've waited all day for the other shoe to drop.
What's this nonsense about us still being married?"

He took a hefty swallow of his drink and set it down.
"It's not nonsense, I never filed for an annulment. If you didn't, and
I know you didn't because I would have been notified, then you're still
my wife."

Gina's aching head swam with confusion. "But I signed the
papers! Your lawyer said that was all you wanted from me. He said after
that I'd be free, and not to try to get any money from you because I
wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in Hades of collecting."

Peter swore and actually sounded regretful as he said,
"Sorry. I wasn't thinking rationally at the time. I fully expected to
have to battle you in court over a settlement, though. The last thing I
imagined was that you would run away, drop off the face of the earth."

He picked up the whiskey glass and drained it in one gulp.
"Why, Ginny Lea? If you didn't want money, why did you marry me?"

There was a note of pleading in his voice, almost as if it
was really important to him to know the truth. But she'd told him the
truth, over and over and over, and she wasn't going to sink into that
quagmire again. She took another sip of her drink before she answered.
"We've been all through that, Peter, and my answer still stands. I
loved you, and I thought you loved me. I never had sex with Mel or any
other man, and I'm through defending myself to you. Now are we going to
talk about the annulment or are you going to take me home?"

Before Peter could answer the waiter arrived with the
oversized menus. Gina hadn't eaten all day; the thought of food made
her ill and the sight of the menu with its dozen or so entries was
depressing. Maybe a cup of broth and some crackers. Peter took the
decision out of her hands by ordering for both of them. Split pea soup,
tossed salad with the house dressing, stuffed salmon, baked potato with
sour cream, and a bottle of Chardonnay. She protested that she couldn't
possibly eat all that but neither Peter nor the waiter paid any heed.

When they were alone again he turned his full attention
back to her. His blue eyes moved slowly over her taut face and rested
on her slightly parted lips. "I told you, there was no annulment. If
you don't believe me you can have your attorney check."

Gina shifted uneasily under his gaze. "I intend to. How
could you marry Veronica if you were still married to me?"

His eyes narrowed. "I couldn't, and I didn't. I spent a
lot of time in Europe and so did Veronica, and once in a while we'd run
into each other. We were both staying at the same ski resort in
Switzerland at the time of her accident."

He winced slightly, acknowledging a painful memory, then
continued, "She went down the slope too fast and lost her balance on a
curve. It—it was a long way down the side of that mountain."

Gina shivered as her mind portrayed the horror of the
situation, and Peter paused thoughtfully. "It was up to me to notify
her parents and make the arrangements to send her home. I don't know
how the rumor got started that we were married. We didn't even travel
together."

Gina was appalled at the feeling of relief that swept over
her, relief that Peter had never married anyone else. Why should she
care? He was nothing to her anymore. Nothing, that is, but an obstacle
to her own marriage plans. How on earth was she going to tell Stewart?

The waiter arrived with bowls of thick steaming soup, and
when he left Peter picked up the conversation as though he had been
reading her mind. "Have you told Stewart yet?"

She jumped guiltily. "Told him what?" she asked evasively.

"That you can't marry him because you're married to me."

Gina choked on her soup. "Not for long I'm not. Are you
going to file for annulment or shall I?"

Peter looked grim. "No."

She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "No what?"

"No, I'm not going to file for annulment and neither are
you."

She dropped her empty spoon on the table. What new form of
anguish had he devised for her now?

She glared at him. "Don't count on it! I'll contact a
lawyer tomorrow."

He shook his head. "It won't do you any good."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

He nonchalantly finished his last spoonful of soup before
he replied. "If you petition for an annulment I'll swear that the
marriage was consummated."

The shock that tore through Gina left her mute, which she
realized later was just as well. If she'd opened her mouth she'd
probably have screamed with pure frustration.

Who was this man who was tormenting her? He wasn't the
gentle loving Peter Van Housen who had courted her with such tenderness
and passion. Neither was he the agonized bridegroom striking out at her
in his shock and pain. This man was cold and cruel and deliberately
toying with her battered emotions. What's more, he was enjoying it!

She was vaguely aware that the waiter had appeared with
their salads, and while he was clearing away the soup bowls and
replacing them with the iced plates, the wine steward arrived with
their wine. By the time the ceremony of tasting and approving and
pouring had been completed, she had managed to pull her scattered
thoughts together and find her voice.