From Here to There Read Free Page B

the shoulder.
     "How could I be otherwise?" Phillip asked wryly, a crooked smile on his handsome face.
     "Wal, if you don't, Emile and I'll come after you," Rafe warned, only half teasing.
     Phillip's blue eyes narrowed. "I'm going to worry about that a lot," he said coolly.
     Rafe laughed. "Just so's you don't forget it. This little gal is like a sister to us."
     "How sweet."
     Phillip turned away to greet someone else, dismissing Rafe's demands and presence in a way that Helene could see irked her cousin. Rafe turned to look at her. "You sure you want this guy?"
     Helene tried to smile and had to restrain a little squeak as Phillip, without looking, pulled her almost into the air as he slammed her against his side, obviously missing nothing of their conversation. "She wants me," he snapped, "don't you, darling." The accent on the last word turned it into anything but an endearment.
     "Of course, I do, my sweet. Wasn't that just what I was telling you?"
    Phillip again reached down and kissed her, this one angry and quick. The words he whispered in her ear were for her only. "You behave," he hissed.
     "How could I do otherwise," she returned with a smile that would have frozen a lesser man in his place. " Beloved ."
     He smiled back, the twist of his lips changing his face from a look of gentility into a look that seemed almost dangerous, reminding her again how little she knew him. "Just remember it." He turned back to an older woman who was watching them both with a smile of reminiscence on her lips.
     "Oh my, you two remind me of my Harry and I. Oh, those were the days, God rest his soul. I just hope you two will be as happy as we were and have been for fifty-two years together."
     Phillip looked at her as though he'd just been handed a death sentence. Helene managed a loving smile. "What a sweet thing to wish us," she said, staring into Phillip's eyes, her own denying the message of her lips. "I'm sure we will."
     When at last they were free of the receiving line, Phillip took her hand in his. His firm grip told her it was less for comfort than to assure she would follow him to the dance floor.
     "I believe this dance is mine," he said huskily as they stood in the middle of the floor, and the musicians began playing the love song Helene had requested to begin the dancing. She'd heard it as a girl, decided then that kind of love was the one she wanted, and that someday she would dance to it with her husband. Now, she fervently wished she'd never heard it or at the very least wished she'd never requested it.
     As Phillip drew her into his arms, she could hear the words to the song in her heart, words of everlasting caring, words that seemed like a horrible lie, an arrow piercing her heart. Would she ever know that kind of love? At this point she doubted it.
     Phillip twirled her around the room, his body tense and hard against hers. Her head came barely to his chin, and she found herself studying his chest, wondering for the first time what sort of body the silk shirt hid. She'd never considered Phillip as a man, other than her growing dread at the idea of wedding night with him, but she'd never been pressed against him in the savage way he'd embraced her this afternoon. She'd never felt the promise of his passion, never even believed he was capable of it.
     Her father tapped Phillip on the shoulder and soon she was spun away in other arms. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," he said as he danced her around the room.
     "I..." She couldn't tell him, wouldn’t yet admit what was about to happen; so she said, "Thank you.” Soon enough he’d know it was all a lie. She felt upset at the pain she knew this would bring to her parents and family, but she was right about not letting this wedding turn into a marriage.
     The irony was that she had ever made the decision to marry Phillip in the first place. As she danced, she considered that. She'd allowed herself to be maneuvered into something totally wrong for