Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"You act like you just got out of solitary confinement or something," I told him. "If we weren't married, it would be more like a rape."

He laughed, then urged me to get up, shower, and dress.

"I'm starving. That's what drinking and making love does to me," he said.

He seemed so different. I wasn't sure I completely liked him like this. but I did appreciate all the attention he was lavishing on me and I did like that he wasn't thinking of anything else. We had a wonderful dinner, overlooking the water. This time I stayed with white wine. Thatcher had a vodka martini and then some wine.

Afterward, we walked along the beach, holding hands. The sky was practically cloudless, the small clouds off on the horizon looking like they were in fast retreat. With the night blazing, my skin feeling so warm. and Thatcher holding me tightly, I felt a sense of contentment and peace.

I slept better that night than I had in a long time. He was up ahead of me, dressed in shorts, and vent out for a run on the beach. I found a note on his pillow telling me so. Where did he get his stamina? I wondered, struggling to sit up and think about dressing for breakfast.

My skin was very sensitive and itchy where I had gotten too much sun. Better spend most of this day in the shade; I told myself.

I rose, showered, and dressed, finishing just before he returned, hot and sweaty but exhilarated,

"It was wonderful out there. I haven't run on a beach in the morning for so long. I had forgotten how beautiful it could be. You're getting up with me tomorrow, if I have to get you up and dress you myself."

"Then don't wear me out tonight," I warned.

"Moi? Little me?"

He pressed his chest out with male pride, then hurried to shower and join me on the patio for breakfast. I had my juice and coffee by the time he came to the table.

We both ordered, and then I sat up, folded my hands between my breasts, and began to tell him of my incident with Whitney.

The small smile on his lips faded slowly and turned into a nasty smirk as I described my

confrontation with her, the things she had been saying, and, finally, the acquisition of Linden's pictures of me.

"What were these pictures?" he asked, his eyes drifting to the food that had been brought to us and then up at me. The way he asked. I had the creepy feeling he already knew most of it.

"Linden has been influenced by some artist who believes in consuming yourself with your subject," I explained. He warned me that he was going to take candid photographs because he wanted to capture the, quote, real me."

"Holy candid?"

"Candid. He took some pictures he shouldn't have taken. There is no doubt about that. and I chastised him for it, but your sister had no right to pay someone to spy on us and steal those pictures."

"And what have you done with them now?"

"I tore them up and threw them into the garbage. But for her to go about spreading these vile rumors--"

"In this town, people treat the old adage 'Where there is smoke, there is fire' as if it were one of the Ten Commandments, Willow. You have to put an end to this before it goes any further."

"An end to what? There's nothing to put an end to. Thatcher. My brother was following a technique and he went overboard, that's all."

"You know it's more than that. He dotes on you. It's not healthy. I tried to get him interested in other women, but he resists. Look." he said, putting down his fork and reaching across the table to take my hand, "what Whitney did was inexcusable. I'll speak to her about it myself, but that's not the real problem. Whether it is Whitney or some other snoopy, gossipy person, someone is going to try to make something sensational out of your brother's relationship with you."

"But--"

"He's disturbed. I've been telling you in little ways. I see what's going on in the house. That's why I told you about his slinking about outside our bedroom door. I don't doubt he eavesdrops on our lovemaking, and that picture he did of you... we have to take it down. It's just too... too revealing. You know I'm right," he added quickly.

"He's not going to understand. He'll be very hurt. Thatcher. It might make matters worse."

"Nevertheless, we've got to do something." "Let me think about it more," I said.

He shrugged.

"Fine, only I'll make this prediction. I'm afraid Linden will have to have more serious treatment, and sooner than you think." he said.