Jared's finger was gently stroking the dark wing of her brow, his other arm cradling her close in an embrace that was lovingly possessive. "What are you thinking about?" he asked lazily.
What could she answer? she wondered. Her thoughts were so confused and fragmented that her usual mental incisiveness was a mere phantom. I'm thinking I've never known a human being so passionate and loving, that you've just left me and I want you to come into me again, that you've touched me on a thousand different levels that I never knew existed. How could she tell him that, when they'd agreed a short time before that there were to be no promises, no commitments. "Wind chimes," she said softly. "I'm thinking about wind chimes."
He chuckled, his arm bringing her still closer, his hand tucking her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "That seems to be something of an obsession with you. I thought I'd given you enough of them in reality to keep them from claiming your daydreams as well."
She nestled closer, her fingers tangling in the thatch of hair on his chest. "You did. You gave me all the wind chimes I ever wanted, Jared." Wind chimes of beauty, of healing, of passion. "I thank you with all my heart."
A look of swift concern replaced the amazement on 's face at the slight break in her voice. "Hey!" he protested, tilting her face up so that he could search her expression. "They were supposed to make you happy, not cause you to cry."
"I'm not crying," she denied quickly. "I never cry." Her dark eyes were suspiciously bright and her dignity very fragilely balanced.
"Forgive me," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I'd forgotten what a wonder woman you are. You couldn't possibly shed a tear. "You have eŕb, right?"
"Right," she assured him. She'd never admit how lose she'd come to weeping all over him or how grateful ' e felt that he'd let her retain her control in this when he'd lost all semblance of it in any other area. "It's perfectly natural that I should be grateful to you, but I haven't cried since I was a very little girl."
He didn't ask what had brought her to tears then or hat traumatic experience had made her build that fierce wall of reserve. There were surely a hundred answers, and he wanted her only to forget that pain now. It hurt him even to think about it. Strange how this bond of empathy was growing between them. Strange and quite possibly very dangerous. But he wouldn't think of that now. It was worth any risk to feel this golden completion and know that she was drawing closer to him, edging like a cautious little bird ever nearer to the warmth he wanted to give her. "You're very welcome, sweetheart," he said gravely. "The wind chimes were my pleasure."
She suddenly burst into laughter, and when he gazed at her, puzzled, she laughed again. "You use that phrase so often, but this time you're wrong, Jared," she said, her dark eyes dancing. "They were my pleasure." Her lips caressed the flesh beneath his shoulder blade. "And I think I'd like to hear them again now."
"Now?" he asked blankly.
She chuckled. "Now," she said firmly. Then, as he continued to stare bemusedly at her, she pulled his head down for a kiss of heated sweetness that was an explanation all its own. "Never mind," she whispered. "I'll tell you all about it later."
And she set herself to the delightful task of weaving a glittering new garland of rainbows around her wind chimes.
Chapter 11
She woke, as she always did, when the first gray morning light began to filter through the French windows. It was a lovely, hazy light, she thought sleepily, making the room seem unreal. There was nothing the least unreal, however, about the arm that was a heavy band about her waist or the feel of the naked chest against her back. Jared's embrace was endearingly protective . . . secure.
Protective. The thought caused her lids to flick open in sudden wariness. She had no need for protection. She certainly wouldn't invite protection, so why was she lying here in his arms as complacently as a well-fed kitten? It was indicative of how far she'd come into Jared's sphere of power that it felt the supremely natural place to be.
She slipped from beneath his arm and began to inch quietly and carefully away from him. She was off the bed in one lithe movement. He was sleeping deeply, his breathing regular, and he didn't stir as she glided toward the chair where she'd draped the ermine cloak. She mustn't give in to the impulse prompting her to stay in that bed with Jared. The experience she'd known last night had been so beautifully moving it could well be
addictive, and she couldn't afford a passion as consuming as this one promised to be. It would weaken her, make her vulnerable in ways that she'd never tolerate.
Already she felt that some small part of her personality had flown out of her to merge in a mysterious alchemy with that of Jared Ryker. The trust she'd felt for him was too fledgling, this emotion too explosive for her to embrace without reservations. She must move very slowly.
The wariness couldn't stop the sudden melting warmth she knew as she paused a moment beside the bed before leaving die bedroom. The misty gray light softened the harsh, powerful planes of Jared's face, and sleep had removed the hard edge of cynicism. He looked almost boyish lying there with his hair rumpled and the piercing silver of his eyes masked by his closed lids.
But he wasn't boyish, she reminded herself as she turned and walked quietly toward the door. He was mature, totally in control, and perhaps the strongest man she'd ever met. Even his lovemaking had reflected that control. In the heights of passion, when she'd been as mindless and weak as a puppet, he'd been able to subdue his own rocketing emotions and guide them both to ecstatic completion. She'd been grateful for that control at the time, but now it filled her with a nagging anxiety. It was a weapon she didn't possess and made her doubly vulnerable to him.
When she reached her own room, she headed straight for the shower. An hour later she'd finished showering, washing, blow-drying, and braiding her hair, and slipped on her black leotard, leg warmers, and slippers. It was time she reasserted her priorities and resumed her own responsibilities. She was quite well enough to begin her practice again. She was a dancer with a career, not Jared Ryker's mistress. She might well become that as well, but it would never be her primary occupation. She was her own person, with her own goals, and she must keep that firmly in mind.
She'd been doing warm-up exercises for perhaps fifteen minutes when Kevin walked into the gym. He stopped just inside the door, his brows lifted in surprise. His lips pursed in a soundless whistle as he strolled toward her. "This is a surprise. I thought I'd have the gym to myself this morning."
"Why?" she asked as she dropped to the floor to begin her sit-ups. "You heard what Jared said before you left my room last night. I'm officially off the sick list. There's no reason I shouldn't start to get into shape again."
He sat down beside her and crossed his legs tailor-fashion, looking a little like a king-sized leprechaun, in his dark green sweat suit. "I don't think Jared had this particular degree of exertion in mind. Does he know you're here?"
"No." She'd reached one hundred and she sat up again, reaching for the hand towel on the floor beside her. "But he couldn't have stopped me. I know my body's limitations better than he does. I've already lost too much time." She wiped the back of her neck with the towel. That fact was becoming very obvious to her, she thought grimly. She was feeling weak as a baby after only this pitifully brief workout, and her shoulder was beginning to throb with a deep heat that was becoming hard to ignore. She'd gotten just as soft as she'd feared. "A dancer can't afford this kind of self-indulgence."
"I admire your dedication, but don't you think it's a little out of proportion? Could a few more days of rest hurt?"
"A few days can become very precious when you consider how short a ballerina's career can be," she said, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm twenty-four years old, Kevin. I don't have many more good years left." She glanced at him a trifle indignantly as he gave a shout of laughter.
"Sorry," he said, still chuckling. "It just struck me funny to see you sitting there looking about thirteen and talking like a little old lady." He shook his head, his blue eyes twi
nkling. "Did it ever occur to you that you may not be a has-been in ten years, Tania? Think about what Jared's work is going to mean to you ... its impact on your career."
She dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, her dark eyes stunned. She hadn't thought at all about the personal impact of Jared's discovery. She had perceived only the universal significance. Now it came home to her that it could make drastic changes in her own life as well. Instead of the bright flame of a career quickly extinguished that she'd had to accept as her destiny, she could look out on a whole new horizon. She would be able to dance as long as she wanted; she would be limited only by her desires. She felt a rush of pure joy, and her expression became luminous.
"How marvelous! How absolutely marvelous!" She stopped short. "Marguerite. She'll be able to resume her career after all."
"Marguerite?"
"My friend Marguerite Montclair," she said excitedly. "She gave up dancing when she gave birth to Barry. It was a terribly difficult choice. She knew that her best years would be over by the time Barry didn't need her anymore. Now she can have it all." She threw her arms out exuberantly. "Every woman can have it all! A career, children, whatever she wants. Isn't it wonderful?"
"It's wonderful for your friend Marguerite," Kevin agreed hesitantly. "Do you like children, Tania?"
She nodded. "I love them," she said eagerly. "You
should see Barry. He's only five, but he's so bright, and he has a polite, old-world courtesy that—" She broke off as she saw the sympathetic, almost pitying look on Kevin's face. "What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Jared's breakthrough is a double-edged sword, Tania," Kevin said gently. "One of those cutting edges carries with it some bitter wounds. There will almost certainly have to be a legally mandated zero population growth."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about birth control," he said quietly. "And in case of accidental conception, abortion. Perhaps sterilization for the entire population."
"No!" Her eyes widened in horror, and she felt suddenly sick to her stomach. "They can't do that!"
"It's bound to come, Tania." His voice was soothing. "It's best that you come to grips with the idea and accept it."
"No more babies," she said dazedly. "A world with no more children. How can I accept that? How can anyone accept that?"
"It will be necessary to insure survival for the rest of
us."
"It's ugly." Her voice was shaking with the violence of her feelings. "It's monstrous." She jumped to her feet, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "And I won't accept it! If I live forever, I'll never accept it!"
She threw the towel on the floor and ran from the room. She ignored Kevin's worried voice calling after her as she streaked down the corridor to the front door and out across the courtyard. She had no conscious destination, but it didn't surprise her that she was suddenly leaving the formal garden and running into the birch grove. Today it was cloudy and the wind chimes weren't
rainbows, they were shimmering mother-of-pearl, but their music was just as healing. The Lord knew that she needed healing now.
She threw herself on the ground beneath Jared's favorite tree. She was vaguely aware of the feel of the cold ground through the thin material of her leotard and the stinging whip of the early-morning breeze against her face, but it made no real impression. A world without babies. She couldn't believe it. She was never going to have a little boy like Barry. She'd always taken it for granted that someday she would have a child, someone of her own to lavish all her love and attend upon, and now it was never going to happen. She felt as if she'd been robbed of something very precious. As if her child had already been torn from her womb, as Kevin had assured her it would be. A child like Barry. She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging with tears she wouldn't permit to fall. Perhaps she should cry. Someone should cry for all those children never to be born into the world, never to be held close and sung lullabies to, never to . . .
"There'd better be a damned good reason for this idiocy, Tania." Jared's voice was grim, but no grimmer than his expression. He was standing only a few feet away, dressed in jeans and a navy windbreaker and carrying a sheepskin jacket over his arm. "I should have known better than to assume you'd have the sense to opt for moderation. First Kevin tells me you were half killing yourself in the gym earlier, and now you're running around outside in practically nothing. Do I have to keep a watchdog on you all the time just to make sure you're not doing something crazy?"
"But you did have a watchdog on me, Jared," she said bitterly, sitting up very stiff and straight. "I'm surrounded by watchdogs, remember? Even Kevin, charming as he is, acts as your eyes and ears when the occasion calls for it. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't come running to you."
"He was worried," Jared said gently. He knelt beside her and draped the sheepskin jacket around her, fastening the first two buttons. "He said the two of you had been talking and suddenly you got upset and ran out of the chateau like a wild woman. What the devil's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me," she said, her eyes on a point past his left shoulder. "I just started to think of this wonderful world you're going to create for all of us, Jared." Her lips twisted bitterly. "I'm not sure it's a world I want to live in." There was a flush on her cheeks, and she was speaking with a feverish rapidity. "Do you know that I've never found the idea of being a little old lady even the slightest bit sad? I liked the idea of being able to say the most outrageous things . . . and do with perfect impunity any eccentric thing that took my fancy. Old age grants us a certain grace and privilege." Her voice was fierce. "You've robbed us of that, Jared. You're going to populate the earth with a race of healthy, sterile robots."
There was a flicker of raw pain on his face before it became coolly impassive. "If I have, then I'll accept the responsibility," he said. "Everything has its price. I just happen to think that this advancement is worth nearly any price we have to pay." His smile was a little forced. "If you want to be a little old lady, I'll buy you a white wig and a theatrical makeup kit and you can play dress-up, pixie."
"It's not funny," she said between her teeth. "And some prices are just too high, particularly when we have no choice about paying them." She jumped to her feet and backed away from him, her dark eyes blazing in her white face. "Damn your discovery, Jared Ryker!"
"Why are you so upset?" His gray eyes were narrowed on her face. "What's at the bottom of this, Tania? All this talk of spunky old ladies and robots is evasive. How can I reason with you when you won't bring the real problem out in the open?"
"That's what you're best at, isn't it, Jared? You're always so coolly reasonable and in control." Her voice broke. "Well, I'm afraid I won't fit into your neat little plans. I'm not at all like you, Jared. I have emotions, and sometimes they're not under control at all."
"That's quite obvious." He was a little paler than before. "But I'm still curious as to just why your emotions are running so high. Why the hell are you turning your knife in me, Tania?"
"Because of the children," she shouted, her dark eyes wild and blazing. "Because you've taken away my babies." Her words were a harsh cry of pain. "And I don't think I'll ever forgive you, Jared Ryker!" Then she turned and ran away from him toward the chateau, like an animal in pain hunting a lair in which to tend its wounds.
Jared's eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his body rigid. She had called him "coolly reasonable," he thought dully. It would be funny if it didn't hurt so much. He'd never felt less mechanical or controlled in his life than in this moment. Capsules of pain were exploding inside him with every breath. He was trying to reason, to empathize with her, but he couldn't get past that wall of agony she'd built with those words she'd hurled at him.
Last night he'd held her in his arms and thought all the years of loneliness were behind him. Now, with a shocking suddenness, that certainty had vanished. He was once more alone, and
he began to feel a deep,burning resentment toward her for hurting him like this. No, damn it, he wouldn't let her snatch the gift away from him. He couldn't go back to experiencing such loneliness. She was his now, and he'd keep her any way he could.
There was no knock on the door, but Kevin's voice boomed out. "Open the door, princess. My hands are full."
Tania moved quickly to unlock and throw open the door. Then she stepped aside as Kevin strode into the room, a covered rattan tray in his hands.
"I've brought you a light supper," he said as he crossed the room to deposit the tray on the bedside table. "It's only soup and sandwiches, so you needn't scowl like that. You didn't show up for dinner and you refused the tray George brought you, so I had to take matters in my own hands." He grinned. "I couldn't let you start skipping meals and undoing all the progress you've made. After all the time I've spent with you in the past week, I definitely have a vested interest."
"Thank you for thinking of me, Kevin," she said quietly. She tightened the sash of her red chiffon robe and leaned against the door to regard him with wry exasperation. "But really, I'm not hungry."
"Eat anyway. You've been closeted in here all day without touching a bite. Come on, princess," he coaxed, "I know I'm the one who made you come apart this morning. I always did have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth. You wouldn't want to give me a king-sized guilt complex, would you?"
No, she wouldn't want to do that, she thought wearily. None of this was his fault. He'd only been trying to be kind, preparing her for what was to come. How could he have known it would cause such an explosion of pain and anger deep within her? Nevertheless, she was fleetingly surprised that Kevin had blundered so cruelly. Before this, she had found him almost exquisitely sensitive to the feelings of others.
"No guilt complexes,'* she said. Her smile was a bit forced. "You did what you thought was right, and that's all any of us can do. Leave the tray, Kevin. I'll eat something later."