by Ann Cristy
"I don't care if you are my brother," said Aunt Lizabeth, "I won't let you do this to her anymore."
"I tell you she had an abortion," her father yelled.
"How do you know that? Has she ever been examined by a doctor?" her aunt shot back.
"No," Misty answered softly. "Never."
"Misty, be quiet," her mother said through pursed lips. "Don't interrupt. Nice girls do not speak until they are spoken to."
"You never talk to me," Misty told her mother, earning a glare from her father.
Aunt Lizabeth and her father argued for hours. In the end it was decided that Misty would stay in school but live with her aunt and uncle.
In the car on the way to Misty's new home, her aunt had looked over the seat at Misty huddled in the back. "No wonder you called me, child. Now, don't you worry. We have a piano, so you can practice at home instead of going to the music room at school after classes. Why did that fool brother of mine sell the piano?"
"Mama told him it disturbed her, and he said he didn't like the noise, either."
"Damn fools, both of them," her uncle muttered.
"Charlie, there's no need to swear," Aunt Lizabeth said mildly as Misty was jostled in the back seat by the car's movements.
Gradually she emerged from the depth of sleep and realized someone was gently shaking her shoulder. "Come on, darling, wake up. We're here." Luc frowned down at her and gently pushed curling tendrils of red-gold hair away from her forehead.
What was wrong? Misty tried to clear her sleep-befuddled mind. Why was Luc scowling at her like that? She became instinctively defensive. "We can always turn around and drive back," she told him sharply. "I'll pick up the girls at your sister's house—-"
"What are you babbling about, love?" he interrupted, helping her out of the car and taking her arm to lead her through the gate in a picket fence.
But now Misty was wide awake. She paused to admire the series of humpbacked mountains that circled the town of Hudson. "They're beautiful," she murmured.
Luc pointed toward the distance. "Do you see that bare snakelike area on that mountainside? That's Sweetgum, the ski resort where we'll be staying tonight."
Suddenly Misty knew she couldn't go through with the marriage. Panic churned inside her. She inhaled deeply of the crisp winter air and turned resolutely to face him. "Listen to me, Luc. This marriage is a mistake. We can't do it."
The words seemed to echo in the cold air. "I... I've been through two failed relationships." Her eyes slid away from his.
"I know all about that." He led her up several steps to a wraparound porch with a grass doormat in front of the oak door. A sign pasted to the glass window said Enter.
Misty stopped in her tracks. "Come on, darling," Luc said in low tones.
"I've never done anything like this before," she muttered, dragging her heels.
"Neither have I," he said, opening the door and waiting for her to precede him inside.
"That's true." For some reason his words sent an unaccountable feeling of relief through her. "We can help each other during the hard parts," she said.
"That's my thought exactly."
A plump woman well past middle age came forward from a back room to greet them. She was wearing a gray dress with a white lace collar and cuffs.
"Hello, I'm Judge Latimer. You must be Lucas Harrison and Mystique Carver."
"Yes," Luc answered for both of them, removing the jacket from Misty's shoulders.
She was about to explain that Mystique wasn't her real name, then decided that if that's what Luc liked to call her, she might as well let him.
Judge Latimer led them into a spacious parlor with a bay window in which a marmalade cat sat washing its paws. It looked up briefly at the company, then resumed it's methodical licking. "I've arranged for my housekeeper and my lawyer to serve as witnesses to the ceremony. Is that all right with you?" asked the judge.
"Of course," Luc said, his hot gaze roving over Misty. "You look lovely, darling." He slid an arm around her waist and hugged her to him as the judge excused herself. "Here. I have something for you." He took a jeweler's box from his pocket and handed it to her.
Misty stared at it in confusion. "I can't put the wedding band on until the judge—"
"This is your engagement ring," he told her, leaning forward to let his mouth graze hers.
"We're not engaged. I mean, I don't need one."
"Indulge me by wearing it," Luc whispered into her hair as he lifted her right hand and slipped a square-cut emerald on her finger. "Do you like it?"
Misty slowly lifted her hand, letting the stone catch a ray of late afternoon sunlight. "It looks too large to be real."
Luc laughed. "It's real, all right."
"Don't do too much for me," Misty requested, overwhelmed by everything that had happened that day. How could she explain to Luc that she feared becoming too dependent on him? Not because of the material things he could give her, but because the sweetness and passion he had shown her were already binding her to him irrevocably. If, later on, he took away the caring, withdrew the tenderness, she would be utterly bereft.
"I am giving you my life this afternoon. What you do with it is up to you," he said solemnly, his eyes holding hers, his hand clasped warmly in her own.
"It will be spoiled," Misty said with a moan, shutting her eyes in momentary pain, her left hand coming over to protectively cover her right one.
She felt Luc's hand grasp her shoulders to draw her close just as Judge Latimer returned with a balding man and a thin woman, both middle-aged.
"Mr. Harrison, Miss Carver, this is George Lemond, my lawyer, and this is Esther Gregson, my housekeeper. Shall we begin?" Judge Latimer pressed a button on a stereo system, and Mendelssohn's Wedding March played softly in the background.
Following the judge's instructions, Misty and Luc took their places side by side in front of the fireplace between the two witnesses. Judge Latimer faced them.
"Dearly beloved," the judge began, "we are gathered here..."
Misty supposed the judge must be speaking because her mouth was moving, but Misty couldn't hear over the roaring in her ears. Her eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly. Blinking to keep the judge's face from becoming blurry, she was grateful for the strong grip of Luc's hand in hers.
When he looked down with one eyebrow arched, Misty knew he wanted her to respond to the judge's query. "I do," Misty said. He smiled with what looked like relief and squeezed her hand. Misty watched his mouth move in response, reading his lips as he repeated his vows. The roaring in her ears faded away.
"Now, by the power vested in me by the sovereign state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife." Judge Latimer beamed at them as Luc bent to kiss her.
"I will make you happy, darling," he promised against her lips.
"Thank you," Misty said, and then she felt silly at her inappropriate remark. Her smile slipped on and off her face.
Congratulations were spoken all around, and Mrs. Gregson produced a bottle of New York State blanc de blanc with which to toast the bride and groom.
Soon they were saying good-bye and Luc was leading Misty out onto the porch. He insisted that she button her jacket up to the neck.
"I don't care if the fur tickles you; you have to keep warm," he insisted. "It's colder up here, but you don't notice it because the air is so dry." He frowned down at her feet. "I should have insisted that you wear boots instead of those pumps."
"Don't be silly. The car is warm," she answered as Luc hurried her into the front seat and started the engine. All at once she remembered something. "I put a ring on your finger. I didn't know you were going to wear a wedding ring."
Luc held out his hand to show her the heavy gold band, which exactly matched her own. "I decided I'd like to wear one. Do you mind?"
"Oh, no. I'm glad. I mean, it's a very nice ring."
"Yes, it is. So is yours. Are you going to put your engagement ring on your left hand now?"
&nb
sp; "Ah..." Misty held out both hands. "No, I think I'll wear them this way. Then my wedding ring won't be overshadowed by the emerald."
Luc threw back his head and laughed as the car shot forward. "You also have emerald earrings coming to you, my pet." He glanced at her. "I called you on Christmas Day to see if you liked them, but you weren't home."
"I was at Aileen and Dave's."
"Then you sent the earrings back to me." He shook his head. "That angered and confused me." Suddenly he smiled. "But now you're getting them back."
Misty glanced at him. "Why don't you keep them?" she suggested, laughing out loud for no particular reason. She was still chuckling when she noticed that Luc was giving her peculiar glances. "What is it?" she asked. "Did I say something?"
"No, my lovely wife, it's your laugh. I haven't heard it enough. I find that I want to hear it as often as possible."
Misty sighed. "I really like to laugh."
"But that wistful note in your voice tells me you don't do it often enough."
Misty didn't answer him. Her attention was taken by the narrow, winding road that was leading them into the mountains. "Look at all the snow!" she exclaimed. Snow had often fallen in the area where she was raised, but it had never looked so white and sparkling.
As they rounded a curve at the top of a driveway, the Sweetgum Inn appeared like a jewel in the snow.
"Luc, it's perfect," Misty whispered, staring at the rough-hewn exterior that had weathered to a deep brown. The rambling building had an open front porch, and smoke was coming from a stone chimney.
"We'll eat here, but we'll stay in one of the guest cottages," Luc told her, grinning at her wide-eyed expression. He parked the car in front of the entrance.
Luc came around to her side of the car and reached in to help her to her feet. "Like it?" he asked.
She nodded, then pointed. "Oh, look! Skiers." She shaded her eyes against the rays of the dying sun and watched black dots sliding down the slopes. "I think I would like to try," she said.
"Then we will."
"But I haven't got any ski clothes," she pointed out as he led her up the steps to the front door, gesturing to a bellman to carry their luggage. She gasped at the amount of baggage being pulled out of the car. "We have a great deal for just one night."
"Yes." He grinned unrepentantly at her.
"You bought me clothes," she accused as he shepherded her through the lobby. "Oooh, it's nice." Immediately forgetting her quarrel with him, she gazed around her, her attention caught by the knotty-pine interior of the lodge. Tables and chairs were grouped casually throughout the spacious lobby.
"Mr. Harrison, welcome back to the Sweetgum Inn," said the smiling desk clerk, nodding to Luc and running curious eyes over Misty.
"My wife and I will be staying a day or two," Luc said, signing the register.
"Your wife?" The clerk looked momentarily discomfited. "May we at the Sweetgum Inn wish you well, sir?"
"Thank you. We were married today." Luc's mouth lifted at the corners as he glanced at a blushing Misty. "I'd like some ski attire sent to our cabin for my wife. Size six in clothing, size seven in boots."
"Of course, sir." The man bowed slightly and signaled to a bellman.
Misty stopped often on her way to the guest cottage to gaze, fascinated, at the skiers coming down the mountain and at the powdery snow that covered the trees and crunched under their feet.
Luc put his arm around her and hurried her along. "Come on. Your feet will get cold."
The bellman opened the door of their cottage, which was actually a small bungalow. It had a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and dining area, plus a picture window that looked out over the mountains.
"Oh, a fire in the fireplace." Misty sighed as Luc removed her fur coat, then sat her down to remove her shoes and rub her feet. He tipped the bellman and came back to her as she sat on the low couch in front of the roaring blaze.
"It's beautiful, Luc."
"I've never stayed in this cottage before, because I thought it was too big for just me."
"You and your stable of women," Misty heard herself say tartly in a voice she didn't recognize as her own.
Luc turned toward her, his eyes searing into her. "There's no need to be jealous about my past, darling. I'm not jealous of yours."
"Neither am I," she shot back, coming to a ramrod straight position on the overstuffed couch. "I... I have never discussed Leonard or Richard with you."
"Now is not the time," Luc said, throwing his suit jacket toward a chair, not noticing when it fell to the floor. He loosened his tie and jerked it off. "We'll have plenty of time to talk, darling. The rest of our lives, in fact. But right now I want to love you, to show you how I feel. I want you to know how much I need you."
Misty's heart began pounding as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his powerful shoulders.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the next instant Luc lifted her into his arms and carried her to the spacious bedroom decorated in peach and brown tones. Sudden shyness overcame her as he placed her on the peach-colored bedspread covering the king-sized bed. She felt her face redden. Something about making love with Luc embarrassed her. Sex with Richard and Leonard had been a mechanical act that didn't involve her mind and spirit. But she knew instinctively that Luc would demand all of her, heart and soul. The idea of such total intimacy with him made her flush with both reluctance and anticipation as he followed her down onto the bed, pressing her into the firm mattress.
He quizzically regarded the heightened color in her face. "Mrs. Harrison, do you mind that I'm going to undress you?"
"No," she whispered. But I do mind, an inner voice shouted. With Richard and Leonard she'd always undressed in the bathroom, and she'd worn a robe until she climbed into bed. With them, sex had been an obligation, and not a completely comfortable one...
"Good, because I'm going to enjoy this, my sweet," Luc murmured. "And so are you." His voice was thick as he peeled the pantyhose down her legs. "You know, my love, I think I'm going to buy you some underthings with garters. I saw some in Saks that would be perfect for you." He lifted her hips and slid the skirt down her body. "Ummm, pretty panties." He kissed the silken briefs, pressing his open mouth to her pelvic area in a caress that awakened a slow throbbing.
Misty gasped, and her body moved involuntarily in surprise at his tender loving. No one had ever kissed her like that! She was stunned. A tingling sensation began in her hands and feet as Luc raised her to a sitting position and removed her cream-colored jacket and the frilly blouse with the lace jabot.
"Pretty bra, darling." He ran a gentle finger around the embroidered edge. "Did I buy you this one?"
"Yes," she said breathlessly as he reached down and unfastened the tiny clip between her breasts. His mouth followed his hand, his arm supporting her arching back. Her hands came up to grasp his hair, her fingers threading through the thick locks.
"You're so sweet, wife of mine." Luc lifted her up against his body with ease, suspending her with one arm, taking her breast more fully into his mouth and with infinite tenderness sucking slowly, sweetly.
"Luc!" Misty cried out, her hands clenching in his hair, her eyes closing as hot, pulsing sensations seared through her. "What... what..." She tried to speak, but her mouth couldn't form the words.
"Shhh, my angel. Let me love you." Luc's hoarse words sent a thousand tiny electrical charges over her skin, like lightning bouncing off mountaintops. He pressed her down, down onto the peach coverlet. "Let me cover you..."
"I'm warm," Misty said with a gasp. "I don't need any covers." Her hands slid free of him, her fingers clutching air as he stepped away to remove his trousers and briefs. Her body tingled with delight as she stared up at him—at the thicket of chestnut hair that arrowed down his body, the color a surprising contrast to the ash blond locks on his head. Her sisters would describe him as a hunk. Misty thought giddily. His legs were long and muscular, his shoulders broad and powerful. At this moment he looke
d every inch the athlete Aileen had said he was. Misty reached for him again.
"Easy, darling, I'm not leaving you," he crooned, stretching out at her side.
"I love your hair," she whispered, reaching again for his head, her fingers spreading and closing in delight at touching him.
"Good. I love everything about you," he murmured back, sliding his mouth down her body, touching every inch, caressing every curve, exploring every intimate crevice. His mouth traveled lower and lower, and then he was touching the very core of her desire, setting off a kaleidoscope of overwhelming feelings. Her blood seemed to turn to molten lava in her veins. She trembled and writhed in uncontrollable passion.
"Shhh, darling. I'm loving you."
"Ohhh..." She pulled his hair, impatient with him, but he merely chuckled against her skin. She pulled harder, and he inched upward until they were touching lips to lips. "I didn't realize," she whispered, awed.
"I know, my treasure." He pressed her thighs farther apart and positioned himself over her. "I'm glad, because I want to be your first real lover." He pushed himself gently into her.
His heart was pounding against hers. Her breath was coming in staccato gasps as the tempo between them increased. Never had Misty been an eager participant, but now she clasped her lover and held him tight. Together they soared, higher and higher, until the world exploded, flinging them up to the stars, around the sun, and gently back down to earth.
For long moments afterward they held each other tightly. Gradually their breathing slowed, their glistening bodies relaxed.
"Does anyone know about this but us?" Misty whispered up at Luc, her eyelids drooping.
"About what, Mystique?" He nibbled at her neck. "About... about lovemaking?"
Luc chuckled and raised himself on one elbow to look down at her. "I doubt it," he teased. "Shall we make it our secret?"
"Yes!" But her laughter vanished as his grin faded. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I told you before, I love to hear you laugh."
"I feel like laughing. In fact, I wish we had a piano so I could play and we could sing." Feeling sleepy, she burrowed her nose into his neck.
