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Authors: Phyllis Halldorson
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and I'll drive you to Fort
Bragg. I know a lawyer there, she can get started on the annulment
immediately. I think it can be taken care of in a matter of days."
He turned and took a few steps toward the bathroom before
Gina caught him by the arm and said, "No, Stewart, that won't do any
good. Peter—he—he said if I filed for annulment he
would swear the marriage was consummated."
Stewart glared at her with an all-consuming rage. "And was
it?" he grated.
Gina winced. "Of course not. I told you what happened. I
never saw him again after he walked out of Mel's apartment until
Saturday night at the wedding reception."
Stewart's gaze searched her face for a few seconds, then
with a muffled groan he took her in his arms and held her close. "I'm
sorry, baby," he murmured shakily. "It's just that I can't stand the
thought of any other man touching you, and to know
that—that"— the name he called Peter was obscene in
any language —"has the legal right is galling beyond reason."
The legal right
. The words struck
terror in Gina. Peter had the legal right to make love to her only if
she agreed to it. But after that traumatizing scene in her kitchen
yesterday morning she knew that her mind would never overrule her body
if he came at her like that again. She had to end this farce of a
marriage, and quickly!
She shuddered and burrowed closer into Stewart's arms. She
wished now that she had married him months ago when she had accepted
his engagement ring. It wouldn't have been legal, but maybe by this
time she would have been so passionately involved with him that Peter
could have had no emotional hold over her.
Maybe, but she doubted it!
For several minutes she enjoyed the warm security of
Stewart's firm hard body, but then she sighed and pulled back to look
at him. "Since Peter won't consent to an annulment I want a divorce,"
she said. Stewart nodded. "That will take longer, but apparently it's
the only solution. We'll drive down to San Francisco and see my lawyers
about handling it. They'll put it through as quickly as possible."
It was Friday before she heard from Peter again.
It had been a busy day, profitable too. She'd not only
sold two paintings by local artists, but an art teacher from San Jose
had bought Gina's own seascape, a view of wind-swept waves, white and
foamy, crashing against the rocks below the bluffs on which Mendocino
was built. It had been priced higher than her others and she was
pleased that he had paid the full price without wanting to bargain.
She was in the storage room at the back of the shop trying
to select three pictures to replace the ones that had been purchased
when she heard footsteps on the uncarpeted hardwood floors. She had her
back to the door contemplating several paintings she had set up when
the approaching footsteps stopped and she realized that someone was
standing behind her. She looked over her shoulder and her heart jumped
when she saw the blond, blue-eyed man dressed in a conservative gray
business suit who looked like he was strongly tempted to throttle her.
She spun around and was face to face with the thunderous countenance of
Peter Van Housen.
She backed away and gasped, "What are you doing here?"
He grasped her shoulders roughly and his fingers bit into
her tender flesh. "I can't turn my back on you for a minute can I?" he
muttered furiously.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she
stammered.
"No?" he hissed savagely. "Then I'll show you."
With a suddenness that took her totally off guard he
pulled her against him and kissed her, an angry, brutal kiss that
ground the inside of her mouth against her teeth and bruised her lips.
She struggled but he held her in a tight grasp that left her no room to
maneuver and she was helpless to defend herself. Her air supply was
nearly cut off and the more she twisted the harder it was to breathe.
She felt dizzy and in an automatic bid for survival she stopped
struggling and relaxed.
Once she was no longer fighting,
Bragg. I know a lawyer there, she can get started on the annulment
immediately. I think it can be taken care of in a matter of days."
He turned and took a few steps toward the bathroom before
Gina caught him by the arm and said, "No, Stewart, that won't do any
good. Peter—he—he said if I filed for annulment he
would swear the marriage was consummated."
Stewart glared at her with an all-consuming rage. "And was
it?" he grated.
Gina winced. "Of course not. I told you what happened. I
never saw him again after he walked out of Mel's apartment until
Saturday night at the wedding reception."
Stewart's gaze searched her face for a few seconds, then
with a muffled groan he took her in his arms and held her close. "I'm
sorry, baby," he murmured shakily. "It's just that I can't stand the
thought of any other man touching you, and to know
that—that"— the name he called Peter was obscene in
any language —"has the legal right is galling beyond reason."
The legal right
. The words struck
terror in Gina. Peter had the legal right to make love to her only if
she agreed to it. But after that traumatizing scene in her kitchen
yesterday morning she knew that her mind would never overrule her body
if he came at her like that again. She had to end this farce of a
marriage, and quickly!
She shuddered and burrowed closer into Stewart's arms. She
wished now that she had married him months ago when she had accepted
his engagement ring. It wouldn't have been legal, but maybe by this
time she would have been so passionately involved with him that Peter
could have had no emotional hold over her.
Maybe, but she doubted it!
For several minutes she enjoyed the warm security of
Stewart's firm hard body, but then she sighed and pulled back to look
at him. "Since Peter won't consent to an annulment I want a divorce,"
she said. Stewart nodded. "That will take longer, but apparently it's
the only solution. We'll drive down to San Francisco and see my lawyers
about handling it. They'll put it through as quickly as possible."
It was Friday before she heard from Peter again.
It had been a busy day, profitable too. She'd not only
sold two paintings by local artists, but an art teacher from San Jose
had bought Gina's own seascape, a view of wind-swept waves, white and
foamy, crashing against the rocks below the bluffs on which Mendocino
was built. It had been priced higher than her others and she was
pleased that he had paid the full price without wanting to bargain.
She was in the storage room at the back of the shop trying
to select three pictures to replace the ones that had been purchased
when she heard footsteps on the uncarpeted hardwood floors. She had her
back to the door contemplating several paintings she had set up when
the approaching footsteps stopped and she realized that someone was
standing behind her. She looked over her shoulder and her heart jumped
when she saw the blond, blue-eyed man dressed in a conservative gray
business suit who looked like he was strongly tempted to throttle her.
She spun around and was face to face with the thunderous countenance of
Peter Van Housen.
She backed away and gasped, "What are you doing here?"
He grasped her shoulders roughly and his fingers bit into
her tender flesh. "I can't turn my back on you for a minute can I?" he
muttered furiously.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she
stammered.
"No?" he hissed savagely. "Then I'll show you."
With a suddenness that took her totally off guard he
pulled her against him and kissed her, an angry, brutal kiss that
ground the inside of her mouth against her teeth and bruised her lips.
She struggled but he held her in a tight grasp that left her no room to
maneuver and she was helpless to defend herself. Her air supply was
nearly cut off and the more she twisted the harder it was to breathe.
She felt dizzy and in an automatic bid for survival she stopped
struggling and relaxed.
Once she was no longer fighting,
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