Free Obsession by Katherine Sutcliffe Page B

They’ve ensconced themselves very comfortably downstairs. I’m sure they’ve slugged back your last precious bottle of port by now—along with sending Iris into the vapors by demanding smoked pheasant for their meal. When she told them you were fresh out of smoked pheasant—in fact, smoked anything —they very seriously told her to go out and shoot something.”
    “What did she feed them?”
    “Pigeon.”
    I winced.
    Sighing, Edwina stretched, causing the sheet to slide off her breasts and rest across the small mound on her lower belly.
    “It moves constantly now,” she informed me. “The child, I mean. Flutters around inside me like a bat in a cave. There! It’s doing it again.”
    She took my hand and slid it beneath the sheet, cupped it around the swelling, and held it there. We both stared at the ceiling; then—
    The being moved against my hand.
    I might have jerked my hand away, but she held it there, and again it skittered along my palm as ticklishly as a feather.
    We turned our heads at once and stared into one another’s eyes. A grin touched my lips. Hers quivered. Suddenly, her enormous eyes filled with tears that streamed down her cheeks.
    “What shall I do, Trey? I’m…terrified.”
    She rolled her body into mine again and clung like a frightened child, her face buried in the crook of my neck. Her tears fell hot and wet upon my skin as her body shook. Oh, that the body in my arms, so willing and heated, was Maria’s. The ache for her settled like a hot stone between my legs.
    “Damn it all,” Edwina wept. “It seems all I do is cry anymore. And eat. Then vomit it up. Then cry some more. And my breasts hurt, among other things.”
    Lifting her wet face, she looked into my eyes. “Don’t you feel a little sorry for me?”
    I forced another grin. My skin felt hot and clammy. “A touch.”
    “I’ll stand no chance of landing another husband now.”
    “What makes you think so?”
    “All those rutting animals care about is my body.”
    “Don’t forget your money.”
    “Really, Salterdon, you’re not that daft. There are plenty of wealthy women around just begging to take on a husband. The only difference between us is that at least while they lay me, they needn’t cover my face with a pillow.”
    “Oh, I don’t know.” Rolling, I grabbed my pillow and covered her face with it.
    Letting out a scream, her tears turning to giggles, she kicked and beat at my shoulders. We wrestled until I fell beside her, laughing and breathing hard. Spreading her body over mine, she gazed down into my face, her own pale in the deepening darkness.
    “We were so good together,” she said softly. “Admit it.”
    “We had our moments,” I admitted, nudging a coiling tendril from her brow.
    “Many of them.”
    “You’re not going to get weepy again?”
    “Only if you promise me that I’ll remain as desirable after I’ve given birth.”
    “Why wouldn’t you?”
    “How could we? Our bodies distend to the bursting point, breasts and belly ravaged by scars—I understand men never enjoy us as much, if you know what I mean.”
    “If that were the case, Edwina, there would be very few siblings running about.”
    She pressed her lips lightly against mine, and for an instant—just for an instant—I responded, the surge of lust for Maria still full and hot inside me. I buried one hand in her hair and drew her closer, opened my mouth over hers, and thrust my tongue inside her.
    She made a sound in her throat—more like a laugh than a groan of desire—a growl of conquest that slammed me back to reality, and made the rancid bite of acknowledgment roll over in my gut.
    A woman’s body has been your curse since you were old enough to take your first whore. You simply can’t help yourself…. Will you ultimately grow weary of her naivete and hunger for the whore? I’m sure of it. We’re much alike—you and I. We’re…empty, and starving to be filled. It’s what bonded us, I think. Our neediness.
    I