He did not answer. Another step, and he would be upon her.
"What is it, Morgan? Oh, what is it?" She shrunk back, slowly. If he
touched her ...
But he did not lift his hand, as she fully expected him to do. Instead, he
uttered only two words. They were a command.
"Kiss me!"
Almost she would rather have felt his blows raining on her head.
"What?" she cried, a new amazement within her.
He glared down at her. His breath was on her cheek.
"You heard," he stated. And he stood stock still.
Frightened beyond believing or seeing, she offered her cheek to him. "But
I--" she managed to get out.
Pell saw that she was shrinking away again; she could not bring herself to
do as he willed.
"So!" her husband cried, significantly. Now she realized, in a blinding
flash, the cruel subtlety behind his test of her. Her head went back; she
closed her eyes. And then--how she did it she never knew--she raised her
mouth.
"I don't want to kiss you." It was the refinement of cruelty. "I want _you_
to kiss _me_. Do it!" His hands were behind his back. He stood straight and
stiff as an Indian chief.
He watched her least movement. He put his lips very close to her mouth.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130