updated 02/03/06
HEART OF THE HERO
by
Rickey R. Mallory
Excerpt
"Kee?" Danny sat up in the bed. She pulled herself up on one elbow, providing him with an enchanting look at the tops of her breasts. With a supreme effort, he kept his eyes on hers, watching her carefully, trying to capture the look in them the instant he asked his question. "Did you love me?"
She froze, staring at him until he thought she was in some kind of trance, then she pushed the covers back and got up.
"Wait," he said, vaulting up, ignoring his aching leg.
She walked out into the living room and stood in front of the big picture window that overlooked the ocean. Danny followed. He didn't say anything, just waited in the doorway to see what she would do.
Her arms were wrapped around herself as if she might fly apart. He could hear the sound of the surf outside, pulsing, breathing, never ending. He wondered if she knew how like the surf she was -- constant, pulsing with life, breathing hope into him with every breath she took. He felt like the battered, sandy shore, so vulnerable, so easily eroded, but lifeless as a desert without the surf.
"Kee?"
She whirled on him. "Why are you asking me that? Why? I've done everything I could for you! I've gone over the party guest list; I've told you all I know about your family; I've kept your secret! You're driving me crazy with all your questions! What more do you want from me?" She began to shake.
He couldn't tell anything from her face. It was shadowed, pale, a blur in the silvery moonlight.
"I just wanted to know." He shrugged, regretting the pain in her eyes, but needing to know so badly. "We were married for six months. I've heard the disks; I know why I married you, but why did you marry me? Did you love me?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
"That's not a fair question!" She still clutched herself as if she were clinging to the mast of a sinking ship. "You were so . . . angry! I don't think I ever saw you not angry. I didn't know what to expect when you came home. I thought you would still be angry; I didn't know you would be so -- so . . . "
"Helpless?" he asked bitterly.
"No." She shook her head, her wide eyes glittering in the darkness. "No. I don't think you would ever be helpless. So hurt, so confused. You're very different. I couldn't see past the anger before."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you." And he was. He'd done nothing but hurt her since he'd arrived. He'd seen nothing but fear and wariness in her eyes. He'd wanted so badly to see the girl in the picture, but he was deathly afraid he never would.
She shook her head mutely. Danny couldn't figure out what she was denying or negating.
"Remember what I said this morning?" he asked. "About trying to make our marriage work? Did you think about that?"
She shook her head again, a little jerkily this time. She looked at the front door, then back at him, like a wild animal that senses a threat.
"It's all right, don't worry about it. I'm sorry." He moved toward her warily, as if she were that wild animal, slowly, so slowly.
"Kee," he whispered, carefully encircling her with his arms, barely touching her, afraid she might break if he did. He could feel her trembling like a lost kitten, and he wanted to stroke her, to gentle her. There were other, more urgent things he wanted to do, was aching to do, but instead he just stood still, wrapped around her, hardly touching her.
"Danny? I'm scared."
He didn't move at all, wishing he could say something to banish her fear, but knowing that it was his fault and knowing he couldn't change that no matter how much he wanted to. "I know," he said. "Me, too."
He stood shielding her, listening to the pulse beat of the surf that matched his own pounding heart as he stared out the window, watching the moonlight glint off the water like a million stars, as her breath warmed his neck and her body trembled against his. He put his face in her hair, breathing the scent of lilacs that surrounded her like an aura.
She moved and he froze, afraid she would push away, but she only shifted slightly so she was just a millimeter closer, so that her breasts pressed just a little more into his bare chest.
He pulled back to put his fingers under her chin and turn her face up, touching her lower lip with his thumb. "You're very different from your photograph," he whispered. "It's like you grew up. I wish I could remember the girl in the picture; I wish I could bring her back." He moved his hand from under her chin to the back of her neck, and bent his head to kiss her.
Her lips trembled under his as he sought to urge them apart, and a surge of desire as strong as pain erupted in him when she opened her mouth to let him in. He cradled her skull in his hand and gave in to the urge that had been building in him since that first night when he had watched her sleeping, her delicate curves outlined by moonlight.
He kissed her urgently, not holding back as he had before. This time he kissed her with meaning, with promise, with a wild desire that flared from his fingertips like lightning and crackled from his mouth like electric fire.
And she kissed him back. Her mouth relaxed under his and her head tilted upward, accepting the gentle assault of his kiss, giving him back an urgency almost as great as his own.
Suddenly she stiffened and strained against his hand. When he loosed his grip she stepped backward, her eyes wide and glistening in the darkness.
"What is it?" he whispered.
"I'm, I'm sorry, Danny. I just . . . " she shrugged and spread her hands, then hugged herself. Her eyes seemed to be pleading with him to understand. "You're so different. It's like I don't know . . . ." she stopped, horror replacing the pleading in her eyes.
Danny laughed, the sound echoing harshly in his ears as sudden fear ripped through him and destroyed the desire. "Don't know who I am? Yeah, I understand. I have the same problem."
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