An Independent Wife (19 page)

"What's wrong?" he asked sharply, coming to her and cupping her chin in his hand to look into her pale face. "Are you ill?"

She felt ill, achy and depressed after the soaring passion of his lovemaking, and she was stupidly weak, But she knew that her only ailments were an inability to cope with Rhy and the fact that she hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.

"I'm well enough," she dismissed his concern. "Just hungry, I suppose. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

"Great," he half snarled. "You need to lose some more weight. You must weigh at least ninety pounds.

You need someone to watch you and make certain you eat, you little fool!"

He probably had himself in mind, but she didn't argue with him. In silence she completed dressing and waited until he had dressed also. Then she followed him into the neatly organized kitchen. He refused to let tier do anything and made her sit on a stool while he grilled the steaks and set the places on the table in the small dining room.

He opened a bottle of California red wine to drink with the meal and for several minutes they ate in silence. Then Sallie asked without looking up from her salad, "Where is my manuscript?"

"In the study," he replied. "You've got a way with words. It's good reading."

She flung her head back as anger struck her. "You had no right to read it!"

"Didn't IT' he asked dryly. "I thought I had a perfect right to read what you'd been writing all those days when you were supposed to have been working for my magazine. You've been drawing a check every week and not writing a word of the articles assigned to you. If it hadn't suited me to keep you quietly at your desk I'd have fired you weeks ago."

"I'll repay every penny I've drawn since you bought the magazine," she flared. "You still had no right to read it! "

"Stop spitting and scratching at me, you little cat," he said in amusement. "I did read it, and there's nothing you can do about it now. Instead, think constructively. You've got a manuscript with strong possibilities, but it's also got some rough edges, and there's a lot of work that needs to be done on it.

You need a place to work on it where you won't be disturbed, and you certainly don't need to worry about paying the rent or buying groceries."

"Why not?" she muttered. "T'housands of writers worry about those things."

"But you've never had to," he pointed out. "For your entire life you've had financial security, and it's something you're used to. You won't have a paycheck coming in now, because you're off the payrolI as of yesterday, and it'll wor7y you when your savings begin shrinking. It takes time to write a book and get it on the market. You'll run out of money before then."

"I'm not a helpless baby and I'm not afraid of work," she replied.

"I know that, but why worry about any of that when you can live here, work on your book without interruptions and keep your savings?"

She sighed, feeling trapped. On the surface it was a logical suggestion, but she knew that the proposal was only a way of getting her back under his thumb where he thought she belonged. If she had any sense she would leave at the first opportunity, even if she had to sacrifice the manuscript, but she'd already passed up one such opportunity and she painfully admitted to herself that it was too late for her to gain her freedom. She was caught again in her own stupid, helpless love for Rhy, knowing that her love wasn't returned except in the lowest form-physical desire. He desired her, and for that reason he wanted her around now, but what would happen when he tired of her ?gain? Would he simply walk out as he had before? Knowing that she was leaving herself wide open for another broken heart she stared into her salad and said expressionlessly, "All right."

He drew in a quick breath. "Just like that? No arguments, no conditions? Not even any questions?"

"I'm not interested in the answers," she replied, shrugging. "I'm tired of fighting you, and I want to finish my book. Other than that, I don't care."

"You're great for a man's ego," he muttered under his breath.

"You trampled all over mine," she snapped in reply. "Don't expect kid gloves from me. You've got what you wanted, me out of a job and living with you, but don't ask for blind adoration because I'm fresh out."

"I never asked for it anyway," he rasped. "And for the record, I'm not trying to chain you down. It was that particular job that I objected to, for reasons you know. All I'm asking from you is time for us to be together, to try to work things out. If we can't stand to live together for six months I'll consider a divorce, but the least we can do is give it a try."

"And if it doesn't work out we'll get a divorce?" she asked cautiously, wanting to be certain.

"Then we'll talk about it."

Glancing at his implacable face she saw that he wasn't going to give her a promise of a divorce so she gave in once more. "All right, six months. But I'm going to be working on my book, not cooking for you and washing your clothes and cleaning this place. If you're looking for a little homemaker you're going to be disappointed."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a wealthy man," he said sarcastically. "I don't expect my wife to do laundry."

She lifted her head and stared at him. "What are you getting out of this, Rhy? Other than a sleeping companion, I mean, and you can have that anytime you please without going to all this trouble."

His lids shadowed his gray eyes and he murmured huskily, "Isn't that enough? I want you. Let's just leave it at that.

To Sallie's surprise the arrangement worked rather well and they quickly fell into a routine. Rhy would get up every morning and prepare his own breakfast, then wake her with a kiss when he was ready to leave. She would linger over her own breakfast, then spend the rest of the morning in the study, working. Mrs. Hermann turned out to be a plump, gray-haired model of efficiency, and she took care of the apartment just as she had before, making Sallie lunch, cooking the evening meal and leaving just before Rhy arrived home.

Sallie would serve dinner herself, and while they were eating Rhy would tell her about how things were going with the magazine, what had happened that day, ask questions about how her book was progressing. She found herself remarkably at ease with him now, though their relationship never quite achieved true companionship. She sensed that they were both holding something of themselves back, but perhaps that was to he expected when two people with such strong wills tried to live together.

There was always the thought that good manners should prevail or the frail fabric of their marriage would be torn beyond repair.

As the days turned into weeks and the stack of pages in the study kept growing she welcomed Rhy's advice and experience. Her own writing style was direct and uncomplicated, but Rhy had the knack of stripping an idea down to the bare bones. It became their custom after dinner for him to read what she'd written that day and give her his opinion. If he didn't like something he said so, but he always made it plain that he thought her overall effort was good. Sometimes she threw out entire sections and began anew, all on the basis of Rhy's criticisms, but at other times she stubbornly clung to her own words as she felt that they better conveyed her own meaning.

Her best work seemed to be done in the evenings when Rhy sat in the study with her, reading articles and paperwork he'd brought home with him or doing his preliminary research on the documentary he was scheduled to film within three months. He seemed content, all traces of the restlessness she remembered gone, as if he had indeed burned out his need for adventure. In an odd way she was also content; the mental stimulation she received from creating a book was more than enough to occupy her imagination. They worked together in harmony and relative silence, broken only by the ringing of the telephone when Greg called, as he often did, and their own occasional comments to each other.

Then, when it was growing late, Sallie would cover the typewriter and leave Rhy still working while she bathed and prepared for bed. Sometimes he would work for an hour or more after she was in bed, sometimes he followed her closely to the shower, but always-always-he would get in bed with her and take her in his arms and the restrained civility of their manner would explode in hungry, almost savage lovemaking. She had thought his passion would wane as he grew used to having her around again, but his desire remained at a high pitch. Occasionally when they worked together she would watch his absorbed face, fascinated that he could look so calm now yet turn into a wild sensualist if she were to put her arms around him and kiss him. The thought teased at her brain until she would ache to do just that, to see if she could divert his thoughts from his work, but over the years she had developed a deep respect for a person's work and she didn't disturb him.

Only two incidents broke the surface harmony of those first weeks. The first occurred early one evening as she was clearing away the dinner dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Rhy was already in the study, reading what she'd written that day, so when the phone rang she answered it on the kitchen extension.

"Is Rhy there? Could I speak to him, please?" asked a cool feminine voice and Sallie recognized it instantly.

"Certainly, Coral, I'll get him to the phone," she replied, and placed the receiver on the cabinet top while she went to the study.

He looked up as she entered. "Who was that?" he asked absently, looking down at the pages in his hand.

"It's Coral. She wants to speak with you," Sallie replied in amazingly level tones, and returned to the kitchen to finish her chores. The temptation to listen in on the kitchen extension made her pause for a second, but only a second, then she firrnly replaced the extension.

She tried to tell herself that it was nothing but jealousy eating at her insides. Coral had enough selfpossession that if she wanted to see Rhy she would have no scruples about calling him at home.

Were they still seeing each other? Rhy never mentioned where he went for lunch---or with whom-and about once a week he was late getting home in the evening. As engrossed as she was in the progress of her book she hadn't really noticed or thought anything of it, and she also knew that deadlines had to be met and things could happen that would make a long day necessary.

But Coral was so breathtakingly beautiful! How could any man not be flattered that such a lovely woman obviously adored him?

She couldn't stand it if Rhy was still seeing her, Sallie knew. For a while she had convinced herself that it didn't matter to her if Rhy had other women because she was over him, but now she knew differently. She loved him, and all her defenses had been shattered. He had won a complete victory, if he only knew it, but somehow she had kept herself from admitting aloud that she loved him. He never mentioned love, so neither did she.

When she didn't return to the study Rhy came in search of her and found her standing in the kitchen with her hands clenched.

"Aren't you coming-" he began, then cut his words off when he saw her taut face.

"I can't stop you from seeing her," Sallie said harshly, her eyes black with pain and fury. "But don't you dare let her call you here! I won't put up with that! "

His face darkened and his jaw tightened with temper, It was as if the weeks of politeness had never been. At the first sign of hostility their tempers broke free like wild horses too long held under control.

"Hadn't you better get your facts straight before you make wild accusations?" Rhy snarled, coming forward to glower down at her. "You should've listened on the extension if you're so interested in my activities! As it happens, Coral asked me to have lunch with her tomorrow, and I refused."

"Don't deny yourself on my account!" she hurled rashly.

His lips twisted in a travesty of a smile. "Oddly enough, I've been doing just that," he ground out betwee,i his teeth. "But now, with your permission, I'll show you just what I have been denying myself!"

Too late she moved, trying to avoid his hands as they darted out to catch her, but he swung her up in his arms and strode rapidly to the bedroom. Furiously Sallie twisted and kicked but the difference in their sizes and strength left her helpless against his powerful body. He dropped her on the bed and followed her down, capturing her mouth with his and kissing her with such angry demand that her struggles turned abruptly into compliance. They made love wildly, their pent-up frustrations erupting in the force of their loving.

Afterward he held her clamped to his side while, with his free hand, he stroked over her nude body.

"I'm not seeing Coral," he muttered into her hair. "Or any other woman. The way I Make love to you at night should assure you of that," he concluded wryly,

"It made me see red when she called," Sallie admitted, turning her head to brush her lips across his sweaty shoulder.

She could feel the tremor that ran through his body as her lips touched him and his arm tightened about her. "You were jealous," he accused, self-satisfaction evident in his tone. She gasped in a return of anger and tried to wiggle away from him, only to be hauled back against him for another whirlwind possession.

The second incident was her fault. One morning she decided to go shopping, the first time she'd done so since Rhy had moved her in with him. She needed several little things, and she passed the morning pleasantly, then decided to stop by and see her old friends at the magazine, maybe eat lunch with Rhy if he wasn't busy.

First she poked her nose into the large room where she'd worked and was greeted loudly and cheerfully. Brorn was off on assignment, and for a moment she felt a twinge of envy, then the exuberant welcome of the others made her forget that she was no longer a free-flying bird. After several minutes she excused herself and went up for a few minutes with Greg. She wasn't certain that she'd ever forgive him completely for switching over to Rhy's side, even though she was now living with her husband in relative harmony, but Greg was an old friend and he was dedicated to his job. She didn't want any coolness between them.