by Ann Cristy
"Yes, it must be nerves," another concurred.
"I'm fine," Misty insisted, her exasperation turning to resignation. She looked into the depths of the vegetable soup and raised a spoonful to her lips. It was good. She tasted several more spoonfuls, then took a tentative sip from the mug of hot chocolate, assuring everyone between sips that she really didn't want anything else.
Almost half an hour went by before people began to disperse. "Luc," Misty said, feeling exhausted from all the attention, "I'd like to go back to our cottage now."
"Are you sure you're strong enough?" He ran a worried glance over her.
"If I were any stronger, I'd be pulling a trolley car in San Francisco," she retorted.
Luc's eyes narrowed on her momentarily. Then a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Irked with me, love?"
"Yes," she declared, swinging her legs off the couch and getting to her feet, resisting with effort the urge to jerk her arm free of his hold.
"Sorry, but you'll have to get used to it. I'm not letting anything happen to you."
"Must I remind you that I'm not helpless? I've been on my own for some time now and—"
"You're my darling." Luc fastened her jacket and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he dropped down to the floor and lifted each foot to put on her boots.
Misty balanced herself by placing one hand on his head. She was torn between the longing to savor the tactile delight of Luc's crisp, clean hair and the irritated urge to give his head a good yank.
They said good-bye to all the people who had been so concerned about Misty. Luc seemed to feel none of the embarrassment she experienced. He promised that he and his wife would meet them for a drink if they decided to stay an extra night.
On the short walk back to their cottage, Luc kept his arm tightly around her, now and then pressing his lips to her hair. Misty felt as though she were traveling in a pink bubble that they alone inhabited. "Luc, you mustn't worry about me," she said, forgetting her irritation in the relaxing aura of his presence.
"I can't seem to help it, my dear." He gave her a bittersweet smile. "Marriage is proving to be tougher and more complicated that I ever imagined."
Misty stared up at him as he held the door open for her. A shiver of panic zigzagged down her spine. Was he already regretting their marriage? Never! She wouldn't let him! He was hers now. She stood in the center of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace, crossing her arms in front of her, hugging the pain to her. Blinking, she watched Luc bend to light a fire. Soon a roaring blaze was radiating heat into the room. But still Misty didn't move.
"Hey, what's so interesting in those flames that you can't tear your eyes away?" Luc asked, lifting her chin and staring down into her eyes. "I'll be back in a moment. I'm going to run a bath for you."
Still Misty didn't move. I really can't survive without him now, she thought. Damn him. I hate him for making me love him. Why did he have to make himself such an important part of my life? There won't be anything left of me if he ever goes away. Damn him!
Luc came back into the room. He paused momentarily on the threshold, studying her. "I should never have let you get so chilled," he said grimly. "Come on, darling." Misty went with him, loving the feel of his warm body as he led her into the bathroom, keeping her close to his side. "Have I told you yet that I enjoy undressing you?" he asked, removing her clothes in the steamy warmth of the good-sized room.
"I like sunken bathtubs," she mused, feeling a sense of defeat because she couldn't muster the strength to tell Luc to get lost... before he took over her life completely. She'd been able to do it with Leonard and Richard. Even with her father she'd summoned up the courage to ask to live with her aunt and uncle. Now she had a feeling of falling through space, of spiraling down toward the crash that would inevitably come when Luc left her. Until then, she was helpless to erect barriers between them to protect her emotions against him.
She looked down at him as he rolled her long Johns down her legs. Damn you to hell, Lucas Stuyvesant Harrison. You've hooked me like a fish and thrown me into the boat. I'm yours until you toss me back into the water. How did you manage to soften my backbone? I used to be so full of fight.
"Darling? Darling, are you daydreaming? Not that I don't want you to, but I'd rather you concentrated on me." Luc leaned forward from his kneeling position and kissed her navel. "Because I sure as hell can't think of anyone but you."
"That will pass," Misty mumbled as she slid into the tub.
"What did you say?" Abruptly he stood to remove his clothes and stepped into the tub with her. "Whew, isn't this too hot for you?"
"No, it's nice." She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest, opened one eye and noticed an array of powders and oils on the shelf next to the tub.
“What's this?" She raised a languid arm and grasped a tall plastic bottle. "My goodness. Opium is a perfume. I didn't know they made a bath oil, too. You'll like this, Luc."
"Mystique, for God's sake don't—" Luc half laughed, half groaned as she poured the fragrant liquid into the tub.
"Aren't we sweet?" she simpered.
"You little devil. I should paddle your bottom."
"Lovely." She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Why not?" Luc stared down at her for long moments, his skin flushed.
"And when did you turn into Circe?" he quizzed hoarsely.
"The minute you married me, I think," Misty muttered, watching his face come closer.
"I agree." His mouth teased her lips apart. "I want to have you all the time." She caught a note of disbelief in his voice, as though such a realization had shaken him.
"I want you all the time, too, Luc," she admitted.
"Darling..." He pulled her on top of him and massaged her backside with gentle, possessive strokes, his teeth nibbling at her neck. "You're so sweet. Each day I learn something new about you.
"Me, too."
"You find something new about you every day?" Luc chuckled and buried his face in her hair.
"Not about me, about you." Her fingers kneaded the muscled flesh of his shoulders. Erotic sensations flooded through her as she explored his chest and lower body.
"Yes," Luc said, his face still in her hair. "Touch me, love. I want you to."
Misty had never especially wanted to touch either Richard or Leonard. With them, she had tried to convince herself that sex wasn't particularly important. Having similar goals, tastes, and ideas about life were of paramount importance. But now! Every pore of Luc's body hypnotized her. "You're gorgeous," she whispered. "I don't think men are supposed to be so gorgeous."
"I never want you to stop thinking that...Ohhh, Mystique, don't stop. That feels so good."
Luc's own hands became busy on her body. Misty felt a familiar heat begin to spread deep inside her. Her flesh became a liquid flame. Her pulse sped out of control. Her breath grew harsh and heavy. "Luc, you're teasing me." She clasped him fiercely, exulting when she heard him groan.
He rose abruptly to his feet, wrapped them both in huge towels, and hurried her to the bedroom. Their love play became fire play as both of them went up in flames of passion.
"Darling... not so fast. I can't..." Luc's face was a mask of sensual feeling, his cheeks crimson with blood, his eyes glazed with passion.
"Luc!" Misty heard the hoarseness in her voice when she called out to him. She was awed by the power of feeling between them.
Once again they scaled the heights to a peak of emotion and fell back exhausted, still clutching each other fiercely.
"I never wanted anything so much in my life as to satisfy you in our lovemaking," Luc murmured against her breasts. "I've wanted that since the first moment I saw you."
"You have satisfied me," Misty whispered, her eyes heavy with contented weariness.
"Your eyes are like dewy green violets," Luc said. His grin was lopsided, as though he were trying to hide the tumult only now subsiding inside him.
"I thought you were a banker, not a poet." Misty ran her fingernail
lightly down his nose.
"I'm finding that, since meeting you, wife, I've become a multifaceted person." He took a deep breath. "I find that I want to tell you things I've never considered telling anyone else. You've changed me. I'd heard of sensual love, but I didn't believe it really existed. I never believed that anyone could take over my life, yet at the same time fulfill it with beauty and warmth." His body shuddered as he drew in an unsteady breath. "There were always women. They were as matter-of-fact about sex as I was. I was certain that was all there was to it... until the night I first saw you playing the piano. You turned my life upside down."
Misty giggled and snuggled closer to him. He took all her weight on top of him and pulled the satin quilt over her back. "Shall we stay one more day?"
"I can't. I have to work tomorrow night."
"Have you forgotten that you're now part owner of the Terrace Hotel?" Luc smoothed his hand over her backside. "The very best part, too," he murmured, kissing her hair and trailing a finger over her face.
"Don't be silly. I'm not the owner. I'm married to the owner." Misty sighed. "Could we really stay one more day?"
"Yes. I'll make a few calls." He lifted her chin. "You are part owner of the hotel, darling. I arranged for quite a few properties to be put in your name."
"Take them out of my name, Luc." Misty leaned back, her hands braced against his chest. "I really would rather not own anything. I can always work and—"
"Mystique," Luc interrupted her firmly. His face was grim though his voice was soothing as he added, "I don't give a damn what you do with your money and property, but it's yours and it will stay yours until you sell it or give it away."
Misty laid her head on the sinewy comfort of his chest. "I'm not the rich type," she muttered, kissing a flattened nipple.
"We're never going to get out of this bed and go to dinner if you do that," Luc warned. He shifted her to one side so that they were lying face to face. "But I do like it."
"I like to do it." Misty kissed him again.
In moments they were flesh to flesh, locked in another journey through the dynamic world of love. A long while later they finally left the bed and began to dress. Misty paused in putting on silky, flesh-colored briefs and turned to catch Luc's gaze on her. She grinned. "I thought I felt someone looking at me."
"Your husband was looking at you, Mrs. Harrison." He let out a long breath. "And if I don't get dressed in the bathroom, we'll never get out of here." When she chuckled, he grimaced at her.
At last they left the cottage and strolled hand in hand to the main lodge.
Dinner was a gourmet's delight, much to Misty's surprise. "Sweetbreads en brioche in the mountains!" she exclaimed. "And prawns Pernod!" She took another bite of the succulent shellfish broiled in lemon and rosemary with a touch of dill. "Isn't that just like you to find a place in the middle of nowhere that serves gourmet food."
"Now that you're a Harrison you'll have all the benefits the family enjoys."
"I'm a Harrison," Misty mused, testing the words.
"Yes, you are, wife. For the next eighty years." Luc lifted a forkful of his boiled lobster for her to taste. "Good?"
Misty .nodded. "Yummy."
"Yummy?" Luc laughed. "I like the word. You're a yummy wife."
After they finished glasses of cognac and sampled assorted cheeses, they danced. "Why do I get the feeling that my wife doesn't like cognac?" Luc murmured as they turned and swayed to the slow rhythm of the music.
"It's terribly strong stuff, isn't it?" Misty said, her mind on Luc, not the cognac. "I imagine you could get roaring drunk on it."
"Ummm," he agreed. "But not on the amount you drank, love. I've put down a good bit of it a time or two, and the next day I felt as if the dentist was drilling my teeth through the back of my skull."
Misty lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him and smile. "Dopey."
"Yes." He kissed her nose.
They danced for a while longer, then went back to their room to make love again. The next day they skied all day. Luc never left Misty's side. After dinner that evening they packed and began the drive back to New York.
Misty had the sinking feeling that the paradise they had shared at the Sweetgum Inn was coming to an end.
CHAPTER SIX
Luc headed straight for his house. "I think Alice may have brought the girls back today," he told Misty.
"Shouldn't we stop at my place and pick up some of my clothes?"
"I think what you'll find in our room will be adequate until we get your clothes tomorrow." Luc grinned at her.
"Luc, tomorrow I won't have a car to carry them in. And you'll be at work."
"Do you have a driver's license?"
"Yes, I learned to drive Uncle Charlie's truck when I was sixteen. But I won't have a car." She was still trying to persuade him to turn back to her apartment when he drove into the garage under his brownstone.
"There." He pointed through the windshield. "That's yours—all gassed and checked and ready to go. There are two sets of keys in our bedroom upstairs, and"—he fumbled on his key chain—"another set right here. I also made another key to the Rolls in case you want to drive it."
"Never," Misty said faintly, her eyes glued to the pale green Lotus he'd pointed to. "Can we look at it?" she whispered.
"Yes," Luc whispered back, teasing her and kissing her ear.
"You're spoiling me," Misty said with a gulp. "Please don't buy me anything else. I mustn't forget how it is to work for things. If I have to take care of myself again—"
"I'll be taking care of you for the rest of your life," Luc declared. He got out of the car and came around to open her door. His face was taut, and his eyes slid uneasily away from her.
"Luc, please. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. The car is so beautiful."
He glanced down at her and sighed. "I know. I guess I'm a little too sensitive but I don't like you talking about being away from me, being on your own."
"I won't do it again."
They walked hand and hand over to the sleek car. Misty wouldn't let Luc unlock it until she'd walked all around it and studied each piece of chrome and pale green steel. "It's not quite the color of your eyes, but almost." Luc grinned at her over the top of the roof.
"It's beautiful. I hope I'll know how to drive it."
"Let's find out." He opened the passenger door and climbed inside, reaching over to unlock the driver's door. "Get in, Mystique."
"But, Luc, the luggage. We just got home." She bent down to look at him through the window and bit her lower lip when her eyes encountered his steady gaze. She nodded and sank down into the leather driver's seat. "Nice," she whispered, accepting the keys Luc handed her. She took a deep breath and inserted the key into the ignition. The engine fired with a low growl. Misty took another deep breath and shifted into reverse.
"I thought you might prefer a standard shift to automatic," Luc said, lounging back in his seat, watching her.
"Yes, I do. I just hope I won't strip the gears." She checked the rearview mirror and backed out with scarcely a jerk. She swallowed with nervousness as she turned the car toward the ramp that led to the street. "Here goes," she called with forced brightness.
"Don't worry, darling. Even if you dent it, it can be fixed."
"Luc! Don't say that." Misty turned left at the corner and cruised down Fifth Avenue along the east side of Central Park.
"For someone who hasn't driven in a few years, you're doing fine," Luc said. "I'm proud of you. The only thing I ask is that you never park in a dangerous neighborhood. Use a chauffeur when you go anyplace that might be risky. Promise."
"But, Luc... Oh, all right, I promise."
They returned to the underground garage. Misty felt exhilarated at having driven the sophisticated machine.
"That was fun," she told Luc once she'd parked the Lotus and they'd begun to unload the Ferrari. "My sisters will be wild about it."
Luc laughed as he retrieved two large pi
eces of luggage and gestured to her to take the two smaller ones. "The key with the gold cross on it is the house key."
Misty unlocked the door and preceded him to the basement. While they were still in the dark, she said, "Luc, thank you for the lovely honeymoon. It was wonderful."
He pressed the switch with his elbow, lighting their way, his eyes finding her at once. "It was great for me, too, darling. But we'll have a longer honeymoon in a few months. How would you like to go to Jamaica? A friend of mine has a place there."
"It sounds wonderful, but can you get so much time off?"
"A man is entitled to a honeymoon," Luc insisted.
"How many, do you think?" Misty laughed as she stepped into the hall, glad to set down the two small bags.
"As many as we want." Luc set down his cases with a sigh and kissed her nose. "What do you say we raid the freezer and see if there's a casserole? While it defrosts in the oven, we'll unpack, shower, and change."
"Good thinking." Misty felt her heart turn over when he took her hand to lead her into the kitchen, but she stopped short when Bruno padded down the hall to greet them. "Hello, Bruno," she whispered tremulously, though she felt nervous delight when the dog wagged his short tail and rubbed his muzzle against her hip.
"You've made another conquest." Luc chuckled and kissed her hair.
A note on the counter from Mrs. Wheaton informed them that a casserole was in the refrigerator, needing only to be warmed, and that there were homemade rolls and a pie in separate containers.
"We'll have a feast," Misty said, pulling out the covered dishes. "Ummm, nice salad."
An hour later they finished their meal as strains of Rachmaninoff came from the stereo. Arms around each other, they went upstairs to bed in a sensual, languid eagerness to make love again, which they did all night long.
When the phone rang very early the next morning, Misty grumbled and didn't open her eyes as Luc got out of bed to answer it. "Hello? Alice? Yes, how are the girls? Yes, we had a wonderful time at Sweetgum. We're going back to ski later this winter." He glanced warmly at Misty and smiled. Then the smile left his face, and his brows came together over his eyes. "What? When did this happen? Yes, all right, keep the girls with you until then. Yes, we'll see you tomorrow. John is coming with you? There's no need for that. All right."
