Read Online Silk and Stone by Deborah Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Smith
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voice rose. “I’m a … middle-aged drunk, but I’ve got the wherewithal to get my own wife pregnant if she’d give me half a chance!”
“Prove it!” she yelled, shoving at him. “Prove you’re good for something besides boring my friends and drinking yourself into a stupor every night!”
His face flushed crimson. He shoved her to the carefully manicured apron of pine bark behind the hedge and fell on her, jerking at his trouser button. The breath knocked out of her, dizzy with a fear she had never felt before, she fought him. She was dressed in a blue pullover and long, sheer blue skirt to play bridge at abanker’s cottage at the club; William pushed the skirt to her waist and tore at the panty hose she wore over silk panties. Shoving the material aside, he took her, ignoring her groans of fury and pinning her arms over her head.
It was over almost as soon as it began. One halfhearted thrust and he seemed awash in the shame done to his own honor, if not hers. He lay heavily on her, very still, with his head buried on her shoulder. Limp with relief, she stared at the hedges overhead, and tried to breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered raggedly. “Forgive me. I was insane for a few seconds. Please, please, forgive me.”
Alexandra shuddered. Years of helplessness and rage had been summed up in those seconds. But now her head cleared and she forced herself to remember who she was, and how she had always managed her rigidly goal-oriented life, and him. “Let’s forget it happened,” she said. “I’m not going to give you any more children. Accept that. I can’t help it.”
He moved away from her and sat with his shoulders slumped. Alexandra pushed herself upright, straightening her clothes and staring at his hunched back with mixed emotions. She neither loved nor hated him; she felt sorry for him at times, and occasionally even wished she could make him happy. But she was rarely happy or content herself, and she wasn’t about to give him happiness at her own expense.
He was inferior. His son was inferior. Alexandra could not tolerate weak results in her horses
or
her children. She deserved to raise the best. She had seen pictures of Frannie’s daughter. Despite what she’d said about the Ryder bloodlines, Alexandra thought Samantha was the most perfect child imaginable. A carbon copy of herself. She could be proud of Samantha.
“We do need more children around this place,” she said with a hint of tragedy in her voice. “Please, will you support me in trying to keep Frannie here with Samantha, where we can help them both?”
William lifted his head and gazed at her with dull acceptance. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Then if you have your sister and your niece’s best interests at heart, I won’t say another word.”
“I do. Thank you.” She stroked his sweaty, thinning red hair. He sighed heavily, either relieved or resigned. It didn’t matter. She had what she wanted. As always.
Chapter
Four
F rannie stood in an ice cream shop, staring at a chalkboard behind the tall marble counter, where the gourmet flavor of the week was listed. Chocolate mocha mint. She knew it was absurd, but this meant something. Pandora, which Frannie remembered as a simple and unpretentious town, was now a place that catered to people with a taste for fancy flavors.
Alexandra had written to her over the years about bringing new people with big money into Pandora—had mentioned how eager entrepreneurs had begun “improving” the town to serve the interests of the newcomers. Frannie felt awe mingled with a distinct sense of unease. Her sister had transformed the whole town. Her sister was far more powerful than she’d expected.
You’re here to make peace
, she reminded herself. And to be precise, since she was trying very hard totake things one day at a time, without dwelling on Carl’s unhappiness and Samantha’s problem, she was
“Prove it!” she yelled, shoving at him. “Prove you’re good for something besides boring my friends and drinking yourself into a stupor every night!”
His face flushed crimson. He shoved her to the carefully manicured apron of pine bark behind the hedge and fell on her, jerking at his trouser button. The breath knocked out of her, dizzy with a fear she had never felt before, she fought him. She was dressed in a blue pullover and long, sheer blue skirt to play bridge at abanker’s cottage at the club; William pushed the skirt to her waist and tore at the panty hose she wore over silk panties. Shoving the material aside, he took her, ignoring her groans of fury and pinning her arms over her head.
It was over almost as soon as it began. One halfhearted thrust and he seemed awash in the shame done to his own honor, if not hers. He lay heavily on her, very still, with his head buried on her shoulder. Limp with relief, she stared at the hedges overhead, and tried to breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered raggedly. “Forgive me. I was insane for a few seconds. Please, please, forgive me.”
Alexandra shuddered. Years of helplessness and rage had been summed up in those seconds. But now her head cleared and she forced herself to remember who she was, and how she had always managed her rigidly goal-oriented life, and him. “Let’s forget it happened,” she said. “I’m not going to give you any more children. Accept that. I can’t help it.”
He moved away from her and sat with his shoulders slumped. Alexandra pushed herself upright, straightening her clothes and staring at his hunched back with mixed emotions. She neither loved nor hated him; she felt sorry for him at times, and occasionally even wished she could make him happy. But she was rarely happy or content herself, and she wasn’t about to give him happiness at her own expense.
He was inferior. His son was inferior. Alexandra could not tolerate weak results in her horses
or
her children. She deserved to raise the best. She had seen pictures of Frannie’s daughter. Despite what she’d said about the Ryder bloodlines, Alexandra thought Samantha was the most perfect child imaginable. A carbon copy of herself. She could be proud of Samantha.
“We do need more children around this place,” she said with a hint of tragedy in her voice. “Please, will you support me in trying to keep Frannie here with Samantha, where we can help them both?”
William lifted his head and gazed at her with dull acceptance. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Then if you have your sister and your niece’s best interests at heart, I won’t say another word.”
“I do. Thank you.” She stroked his sweaty, thinning red hair. He sighed heavily, either relieved or resigned. It didn’t matter. She had what she wanted. As always.
Chapter
Four
F rannie stood in an ice cream shop, staring at a chalkboard behind the tall marble counter, where the gourmet flavor of the week was listed. Chocolate mocha mint. She knew it was absurd, but this meant something. Pandora, which Frannie remembered as a simple and unpretentious town, was now a place that catered to people with a taste for fancy flavors.
Alexandra had written to her over the years about bringing new people with big money into Pandora—had mentioned how eager entrepreneurs had begun “improving” the town to serve the interests of the newcomers. Frannie felt awe mingled with a distinct sense of unease. Her sister had transformed the whole town. Her sister was far more powerful than she’d expected.
You’re here to make peace
, she reminded herself. And to be precise, since she was trying very hard totake things one day at a time, without dwelling on Carl’s unhappiness and Samantha’s problem, she was
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