The Casanova Embrace by Warren Adler Page B

the morning
papers with his coffee. She had been particularly cruel to him. Bitchy would be
a better characterization, since she literally had shrunk from his advances as
if he were carrying some disease. She might have been less cruel by creating
some physical complaint, something feminine. But somehow honor compelled her to
make him feel unwanted. I am another man's woman, she wanted to tell him,
hoping he would understand even through her silence, by her actions.
    "What have I done?" he had pleaded. "Really,
Marie, you are acting strangely. I am your husband."
    "I just don't feel like it," she protested.
    "Are you ill?" He had actually felt her forehead.
    "No, I am not ill. I just don't feel like it."
    Since it had never happened before in quite that way, it
probably loomed larger in his mind than it might have. But in the rejection, she
derived satisfaction, like a battle won. I will not submit, she told herself,
convinced that "submission" was the correct word. Claude might have
used "obedience."
    And yet, she was convinced that her relationship with
Eduardo bordered on a form of submission. The difference was that she wanted to
submit. He would summon her in his own good time and she would come. That was a
very romantic idea, she thought, but it was also nerve-racking. The uncertainty
sapped her strength and her ability to cope with the details of her other life.
There must be some other, more certain way to pursue this, she decided.
    When, finally, he did call, her elation was so dominating
that she hardly remembered the hurt until after they had made love. She no
longer approached him with the fear that somehow it would not be the same. He
moved her, beyond what she had thought possible. The moment she would arrive in
his arms, her body would react like a crashing wave.
    "This is heaven on earth," she whispered, feeling
him still inside her, their passion momentarily subsiding, the feel of it like
the beached surf sliding back into the turmoil of the sea.
    "You are my life now, Eduardo," she told him.
"I live only for you. Only to be near you." He was silent,
disengaging, lying on his back now, his arm around her, staring upward.
    "Is it wrong for me to feel these things?" she
asked. "Or to say them?"
    "You must not make it a moral question," he said.
    "All right then. Why has it happened? Answer me
that."
    "It is unanswerable."
    "No, it must have an answer."
    "It is a mystery. Like the concept of God."
    "What has God got to do with it?"
    He sighed. He seemed on the edge of irritation. She was
suddenly anxious.
    "And you, Eduardo? Can it be the same for you?"
It was a question that had begun to absorb her. What was he feeling? Does he
love me? She had tried to resist asking such a question. Suddenly she put a
finger on his lips. "Do you love me?" she whispered.
"Don't," she said quickly, frightened. "It is not necessary to answer."
They were silent for a long time, lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
    Finally, she told him about her dinner at the Chilean
Embassy. His lips grew tight.
    "Pallett, that toady!" he hissed.
    "But he said he was once your friend."
    "He would have me shot as much as look at me!"
His anger became palpable. "And he as much as admitted they were watching
me. The butchers are watching me. But they will never silence me. Never. I will
die first."
    She put a hand on his forehead, hoping to quiet him.
    "Let me help, Eduardo." The touch of her seemed
to cool him. How she longed to be a part of his life. "I can help,"
she insisted. He looked at her thoughtfully.
    "Why?"
    "You, Eduardo. What is love without sacrifice?"
    "It is too dangerous."
    "For you, I will do anything."
    "You don't understand, Marie. This is not a game. I am
a marked man. They watch me. It is not safe to get involved."
    "But I am involved."
    He paused, watching her, inspecting. "We shall
see," he whispered.
    She should have been frightened. That seemed the logical
reaction. She should have thought first of her own exposure,