L & L Love & Liberation

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

The days passed slowly for Ingrid; the nights were even longer. The consequences of her hard and unyielding attitude had left her completely alone. David did not call at the end of the week, and she knew he had deliberately forsaken her because of her own alienation toward him. She had stupidly brought about a situation which was in complete reversal to what she really wanted. He would have stayed with her that night, and she had wanted him to stay, but adultery was a stranger to her and she had been at a loss to cope with her mixed emotions. And he had left because of her stupid silence. She felt certain that he would have understood had she explained, but he had misinterpreted her silence, had even apologized for what he had thought to be a misconception on his part. He had made a statement that night that she had managed to pass off quite easily at the time, now she dared to question it beyond simple meaning. He had wanted to know how much longer she intended to fool herself and the people who loved her. She wondered if he might have been referring to himself. The whole idea was utterly ridiculous she knew, with no sound basis for such an assumption, yet for some crazy reason the notion stuck in her mind.

The first galley of her novel came as David had promised, and as she examined the beautifully bound edition she burst into tears of regret and happiness. David had made one of her dreams come true. He took possession of her thoughts more completely than ever. Her mind was saturated with memories of him and their last meeting, and she ached inside. She missed him and wanted another chance.

For the next several weeks she was completely alone. Nadine still refused to move back, and no amount of persuasion could budge her an inch. She was stubborn and mad, burned up because of the hostile way Ingrid had treated David.

Ingrid's guilt grew rapidly as the days dragged by. She anxiously waited for some word from David, but none came. He had very simply walked out of her life.

When Ingrid was awakened one morning before daylight by incessant pounding on her front door, she knew instantly and instinctively that her visitor was Conrad. She threw her robe on over her gown and hurried toward the sound, her heart pounding nervously. She opened the door and he was standing there smiling at her. Her first impulse was to slam the door in his face.

"May I come in?" he asked smoothly, reading plainly the hostile reproach in her expression.

"What do you want?" she said sharply.

"I want to talk to you."

"Come back later. You got me out of bed!"

"This will only take a minute."

She laughed. "After all these weeks of silence, suddenly you can't wait to talk to me. You're as unreasonable as you are greedy."

"Please, it's important."

"I'm sure it's not to me."

"It's important to you too."

She stepped aside, her mood changing from irritation to reckless curiosity. "Come in if you must, but please be brief. I haven't had my coffee yet."

"If you don't mind, I'll join you in a cup."

"I do mind. You can do your coffee drinking with Myra. Just get to the point, and it had better be important." She paused, her eyes fixed on him in a skeptic glare. "If you're here about the divorce, I haven't changed my mind!"

"That's not why I'm here." He looked at her for a moment and then shifted his gaze to some unknown object across the room.

"Well?"

"I called the insurance company yesterday and found out something you neglected to tell me."

She stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "You came here for that? How dare you?"

"Why not? It was my barn that was destroyed, so the insurance money belongs to me."

Ingrid could not master the anger building inside her and lashed out at him in murderous rage. "You have exactly nothing coming. The money that built that barn came from Sterling Ranch, and I only let you use it. The barn was mine and I only let you use it too. And this house is mine and I want you out of it. Go back to your slut and wallow with her in her drunken adulterous bed. You make me want to throw up. Get out!"

"We had an understanding about that money," he said defensively."

"We have never had an understanding about anything."

"Then it's about time we started," he yelled in an acid tone.

"Go to hell!" she screamed.

"You're still my wife. You wanted it this way, not me. As your husband, I have certain rights."

She laughed hysterically at his ridiculous remark. "Get out! Go exercise your rights with that bitch dog you're living with and leave me alone."

He took one long stride and gripped her arm. She struggled violently to free herself, but he easily caught her other arm and pinned them behind her back.

"Damn you!" she cried out in pain. "You're breaking my arms."

"I should break your pretty little neck."

"Let go of me!"

"I'll let go when I'm damned good and ready. You happen to be my wife and you're going to perform your wifely duties."

She struggled, scratched and screamed as he dragged her into the bedroom. She managed to free one arm but he held her securely by the other. He jerked at her robe until it fell to the floor, and then ripped her gown off and threw her down on the bed. She fought to get up and he hurled her back down, pinning her against the mattress with the weight of his body. The more she struggled the more violent he became. He slapped her face over and over. He didn't stop until he saw blood on her lips. Every inch of her body cried out in pain. Her awareness began to fade as merciful darkness closed over her senses blotting out the sight of his enraged face.

She opened her eyes into a room of disoriented silence that seemed to revolve around her in drunken motion. Suddenly the whole nightmarish ordeal flashed across her mind in instant replay. She cried out and struggled to a sitting position with a sudden onrush of pain and nausea. She stumbled into the bathroom where she became violently sick. Shivering and weak she dragged herself into the shower and stood under the flow of steaming water scrubbing herself furiously, washing the filthy touch of his flesh from her skin. She stepped from the shower into his waiting arms. There was a trace of panic in his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he said nervously.

She pushed him away with the last ounce of strength she had, sobbing frenzied accusations. "You animal! You filthy pig! You and your phony concern make me sick. If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you."

The panic in his eyes faded and his expression became hostile again. "I'm your husband, remember? Of course you can always change that fact if it displeases you."

"So that's your little game, is it? You will gain no satisfaction next time, because I won't struggle."

"You can't win, Ingrid. I'll get what I want."

"You seem to already have what you want. Myra!"

"Myra is not what I want, but she has what I want."

"Get out!"

"I'll go, but I'll be back. After all, isn't that the reason you returned? You can't bear to be separated from me. Why don't you just admit it?"

She suddenly...