by Ann Cristy
"Are we going to swim?" she asked, desperate to change the subject. He ground his teeth in frustration, then reached out and slipped the silky briefs from her body. "Now we are."
Relief flooded through her as he took her hand. She needed him so much... But she couldn't tell him about how she felt about giving birth.
Luc lifted her in his arms. "Don't." Misty laughed, anticipating what he meant to do.
"It's you and me, love, all the way." Without further preamble he jumped into the deep end of the pool, taking her down with him into the chlorinated depths.
Misty didn't panic at the sudden loss of oxygen. She relaxed completely as Luc turned her to face him. His mouth came over hers, and he breathed his own life-sustaining air into her as they reversed direction and rose slowly to the surface.
Misty lifted her head above water with oxygen to spare, but she saw at once that Luc was gasping for breath. Humility coursed through her. Luc had given her the very air from his lungs, as well as shown the caring and sharing she had found as a married woman. He had done all that for her, although she had never expected it from him.
She paddled closer. He treaded water, watching her warily. He expected her to dunk him, she realized as he took a deep breath. "Darling," she murmured, tracing her fingers over his open mouth, his slowly moving feet keeping her easily afloat. Her mouth followed her fingers, and her hands crept upward into his hair. It struck her like* a blow that there was no need for her to tell Luc she loved him. She need only love him at every opportunity. The realization left her feeling as light as air. For a moment she forgot to kick her legs and began to sink.
Luc's hands were immediately at her waist, hoisting her up again before she knew it. "What are you thinking, love?" he asked hoarsely. "Damn you; All you have to do is touch me, and I start to crumble like a cracker."
"My mind's blank," she told him serenely, her eyes half closed as she moved her body against his, her breasts tingling at the touch of his slick body. The softened hair on his chest rubbing against her skin created a sensual massage.
Luc clenched his hands on her hips. She was driving him wild. "Who would ever think that making love standing up in fifteen feet of water could be so delightful?" he said with a growl, manacling her to his hard thighs.
"I thought cold water was supposed to make that impossible." Misty rubbed her thigh in a gentle rhythm against his aroused body.
"With you, cold water is only another inducement, darling," Luc crooned, caressing her with skillful fingers, making her cry out with need for him.
She slid her arms around his neck and twined her legs around his waist. "I surrender," she whispered in his ear.
"Damn you, Mystique. Darling..." Luc sank with his burden under the water, then shot to the surface. He lifted her to the tile deck and vaulted up beside her. But instead of letting her rise, he pressed her down on the tiles and reached for a stack of fluffy towels.
"Your mother will think you're very extravagant using all those towels," she murmured as he spread them out, then lifted her onto their softness.
"I don't want your delicate flesh to get bruised, darling." Their wet bodies slid together with mounting need, awakening a thousand nerve endings. Misty was overwhelmed with throbbing, pulsating sensations.
"I'm here, Mystique." Luc kissed her ankle and nibbled on her Achilles tendon, setting off a series of exquisite shocks.
"My goodness," she said, gasping. "Whoever would have guessed that a leg could be so sensitive?" Her head rolled back and forth on the soft towels.
"I've had crazy sensations since the first time I saw your legs, darling," Luc muttered, his tongue searching for and finding her most intimate source of feeling.
"I... I..." Misty forgot what she was going to say as her body lifted and arched in an ecstatic consummation. Luc joined with her, and together they shot through the roof of the world, wrapped together in the ultimate joy of giving to each other.
His chest was still heaving when he pulled her on top of him and pressed tiny kisses on her face. "You're my angel."
"I want to be," she told him, aware that she had just given over a bit more of her life to him, that each time they made love he possessed more of her. It frightened her to give so much of herself, but she couldn't help it. She knew that she was far and away deeper into Luc's life than she had ever approached with Richard and Leonard.
"Misty, don't withdraw from me into that private corner of your mind where I can't go. I hate it when you do that," Luc grumbled. "I want to dynamite my way into your most intimate thoughts."
"Violent man," Misty chided.
A banging on the outside door startled both of them. "Hey, you two," called Ted. "The ponies are in the corral, and it's time to eat, and Hawes would like to get in there, and—"
"All right, Ted, we hear you," Luc interrupted, rising and pulling Misty to her feet, cuddling her to his body. "Tell Hawes not to worry. I took off the tarp. He can put it away. We'll be there in a minute."
"Right. I brought down the clothes that were laid out on your bed. I'll put them on the bench out here. Hurry it up. You wouldn't want your clothes to freeze." Ted chuckled, his voice fading as he returned to the house.
Misty looked anxiously up at Luc. "They'll know what we've been doing."
He nodded, unperturbed. "I should hope so. We've only been married a short time. My sisters and parents can't be so dense that they don't remember what it's like." He kissed her nose. "Darling, stop looking so worried." He strode over to the outer door and cursed the blast of cold air that swept in as he retrieved their clothes. "Hurry up," he called. "I want to take a warm shower." Grinning, he rushed her into the dressing room, holding up her outfit. "See? Your silk dress will be nice and fresh from the steam."
"How can you be so unconcerned!" Misty demanded, her hands clenching into fists. "We'll have to walk into that living room."
Luc shot out his wrist to look at his watch and shook his head. "I shouldn't think so. They'll be sitting down to dinner about now. We'll walk into the dining room."
"That's worse," Misty cried, sagging against him as he led her into the shower and helped her wash the chlorine from her hair and body.
"There's a hair dryer, darling, and an infrared lamp." He showed her where everything was. "Don't worry."
In her embarrassment she fumbled more than once, slowing her progress. Finally Luc fastened her dress for her. "Ummm, I love you in silk. So sexy..."
"Luc, we're late." Misty slapped his hand away from her thigh and glared at him when he laughed. In spite of herself she could feel her own mouth lifting in amusement. "You're awful."
"So sue me. I'm a bridegroom," he drawled, kissing the corner of her mouth, which she had just put lipstick on.
"Luc, stop," she wailed as he scooped her into his arms again and gave her a deep kiss. "Ohhh..." she moaned, "I should hit you."
"Umm, lovely. Hit me." He nibbled on her neck.
She pushed against his chest with both hands. "We have to go—right this minute." Scrambling past him, she raced out of the dressing room to the outer door.
"I think there's a law against abusing husbands," he crooned in her ear as he followed her at a trot along the path to the back door of the house.
Misty inhaled the warm, yeasty smell of the kitchen just as Mabel came through the swinging door leading to the dining room.
"Aha!" she declared, facing them, arms akimbo. "Love may be a fine thing, but the soup's getting cold." Misty blushed, and Luc chuckled.
"Sorry, Mabel, my darling." Luc placed a smacking kiss on her plump cheek just before swinging wide the double doors to the dining room and propelling Misty through them into the crowded room. Murmured conversation and the clinking of china and silver greeted them.
"There they are," young James caroled. "We get to stay for the soup, Aunt Misty, and then we're going to the pool. Did you have a nice swim?"
All eyes turned to Misty as everyone awaited her answer. "Ummm, great," Luc drawled.
He let out a burst of laughter, bringing every eye to him. The adults shot quick glances at the boys as they, too, joined in the laughter.
"If I'd known you like swimming that much, Aunt Misty, I would have had gone with you," Greg interjected.
The adults' laughter grew louder as Luc led Misty to her seat. She was burning with embarrassment, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Thank you, dears," she mumbled to the boys, earning beaming smiles in return.
Misty lifted a soup spoon to her mouth, noticed that everyone was quiet, and looked up to find every eye on her. She swallowed the soup, hoping it wouldn't go down the wrong way and returned the spoon to the plate.
"You don't slurp," Greg observed from across the table. "That's good. Now you won't have to leave the table."
"And isn't that a blessing?" Luc whispered in her ear.
"Why does Uncle Luc keep biting your ear, Aunt Misty?" James asked.
Laughter rose again, then was masked behind coughs and throat clearings.
"Because, James," Luc answered for her, "Uncle Luc loves Purple Chicken."
Misty's heart seemed to soar away on a cloud of happiness. Everyone around her was laughing. Even she was laughing. But deep inside she knew it was a matter of deepest importance to have heard Luc say those words.
"Love agrees with you, Mystique, my dear." Her father-in-law leaned forward in his chair as Hawes led the twins away from the table to go for their swim. "You're positively glowing."
"She's beautiful," Luc said simply, rubbing his lips against her temple in a sensual massage.
She stared at him. "Stop it," she whispered, flushing.
"Don't try to control Luc, Mystique," Alice advised her. "He was always unruly as a boy."
"He was a knothead," Deirdre announced irreverently.
"Now, girls," Mrs. Harrison said placatingly.
Misty was stunned by the feeling of outrage that took hold of her at Luc's sisters' teasing. They were joking, she knew. Families often talked like that among themselves. But an irrational part of her resented the remarks, because she remembered how her parents had criticized her.
"Misty doesn't like you saying that," said Celia.
Betsy giggled. "I'll say. I remember her looking that way sometimes when we were small."
"Yes, I remember when Roddy Gordon pulled the cat's tail," said Marcy. "Misty socked him in the eye and brought the cat home, but Mother wouldn't let us keep it. Aunt Lizabeth and Uncle Charlie took it. They had it for twelve years." Marcy's voice faded as the sisters regarded one another.
"That's my girl," Luc said, kissing Misty's cheek. "Defender of the weak and homeless."
Chuckles rose from around the table. As Misty gazed at each of the family members, her anger faded, she lost her self-consciousness, and the warmth of acceptance enveloped her.
After dinner everyone went into the living room for coffee, each one settling into a favorite chair. Mrs. Harrison sat down in front of a massive coffee service on a marble-top table.
"I suppose Mystique will play for us," Hildebrand said with a long-suffering expression.
"Only if you pay her," Luc snapped. "My wife is a professional musician, not a bumbling amateur like you."
"Really, Althea! Can't you control your son?" Hildebrand sniffed with disdain.
Mrs. Harrison seemed to consider his comment for a moment. "No, I don't think I can. Luc has always been strong-minded." She smiled at Misty. "Dearest Mystique, you don't have to play, but I must say I enjoyed listening to you that evening in the Edwardian Room when Luc took us to hear you. You have such a light touch."
Misty rose, smiling at her mother-in-law. "Of course I'll play for you, if you like."
"Please." Mrs. Harrison beamed, ignoring Luc's irritated gaze.
Misty went to the piano, flexing her fingers and rubbing her wrists. She raised her hands over the keys, and Rachmaninoff flowed forth before she had consciously made the decision to play his music. The driving rhythms and haunting melody seemed a perfect expression of her inner turmoil. As she swung one of his rhapsodies, she lost herself completely in the music.
When she paused, suddenly worried that Luc's family might have preferred to hear something lighter, there came a burst of applause. She looked up, surprised. A sigh of relief escaped her as Luc approached the piano.
He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, "I feel so proud of you. You never fail to surprise me, darling. You play magnificently." He kissed her hand. "Would you play 'Something Was Missing' just as you played it for me the other night?"
Misty nodded happily. So, he had known she'd been playing the song just for him that evening in the Edwardian Room. "Will you stand there"—she pointed in front of the piano—"where I can see you?" Luc nodded and positioned himself in the curve of the grand piano, his relaxed stance belied by the kinetic energy flashing in his eyes.
Misty sang the lovely lyrics straight from the heart to him.
As the last notes died away, applause once more filled the room. "Bravo, darling, bravo," Luc murmured to her alone.
"Oh, Luc," she began, tears stinging her eyes.
"Gee, Misty, you're good," Betsy said. "I'd forgotten how well you played."
"My dear..." Tears shone in Althea's eyes, too, as she came forward with her hands outstretched. "How beautiful you are."
Misty basked in the sunshine of their attentiveness. Her glance slid to her sisters, who were assuring Alice that there was no need to buy a grand piano; they had never studied music.
"But I always wanted to," Betsy finished wistfully.
"Ha!" Alice declared, a zealot's light in her eyes. "We shall find you a top-notch teacher on Monday."
"Lord," Luc muttered, holding Misty to his side, his eyes on John. "How many Steinways will you have to buy, do you think?"
"I'm not sure," John mumbled, a fascinated eye on his wife as she told Misty's sisters how well rounded they would be once they had studied both music and watercolors.
"It's very good for the spirit to paint," she finished.
"But I can't draw a straight line," Betsy said faintly.
"Don't worry." Alice patted her arm. "I'm sure John can find a teacher who would rather work with circles and curves than lines."
"Can you do that, John?" Luc queried his brother-in-law, tongue in cheek.
"You're a rat," he said mildly.
"Luc, rescue him," Misty pleaded. "Don't let Alice get all those teachers for my sisters."
Luc's eyes were like brown lasers searing her with sudden desire. "Let's go up to our room.. .Then I'll talk to Alice." His husky words filled her with longing, but she was acutely conscious of the people around them.
"Luc, please. Your father is looking at us."
Luc shrugged. "I don't care who's looking. Tomorrow when all those people arrive we won't have any time alone."
She couldn't help but chuckle at his woeful expression, which became thunderous when she laughed. "It's not funny," he declared. She ran a fingernail down his nose. "You're funny."
"Take me to bed," he drawled, bending over her, his hands sliding to her waist.
"Not now," she said, chuckling. "We were in bed just a while ago."
"We weren't in bed. We made love on the pool deck. Now I want to make love in our bed. Let's go home."
"We can't!" The blood grew hot in her veins as Luc continued to look down at her with undisguised desire.
"Why?" He rubbed his mouth on hers. "Your heart is beating as fast as mine." He pressed the palm of his hand to her chest, his fingers splayed on the soft flesh.
"Luc," she whispered hoarsely as her pulse skyrocketed. "Maybe we could..."
They were turning to leave the room when Hildebrand come up to them. "Well, Mystique, you really surprised me," he said loftily. "Your technique isn't half bad." He paused momentarily as he noticed Luc's furious expression. "Ah, you're all red, cousin. You look—" he laughed "—as if you want to kill someone." Hildebrand's mouth slackened as Luc lifted his hand from Misty
's waist and flexed it into a fist. "Pardon me. I have to see someone." With a shudder Hildebrand walked stiffly away.
"Luc.;." Misty rested her head on his chest. "You shouldn't intimidate him like that. He thinks you're serious about hitting him."
"I am," Luc said, hugging her when she laughed. "Umm, I love the feel of your breasts pressed tight to me."
"Stop!" She was laughing out loud now, attracting the attention of several people nearby. "Let's take a walk," he suggested. "We'll have to get our coats."
"No. We'll walk through the house. This place is huge. I'll show you some of the galleries that are closed off most of the time."
Misty's skin tingled in delight as Luc took her hand and they walked up the wide staircase. They passed through the corridor to their room and went down another narrower hallway that lay beyond the master suite occupied by Luc's parents. At the end, double oak doors led to a small foyer. "This is called the turquoise wing," Luc explained, "but I suspect the only turquoise thing here is the mold." He grinned at her and reached up to take from the lintel a key which he inserted in the lock. "Just as I thought—a little musty."
"It's not too bad, Luc." Misty's whispered words echoed in the unused room. Her eyes settled on a painting of a woman working at a loom. "That reminds me." She nodded at the painting. "Did I ever tell you how grateful I am that you granted Morey a loan?"
"Yes, you did. Now be quiet so I can kiss you." Luc pulled her into his arms, and his mouth came down on hers.
"But—" Misty gasped and pulled slightly away from him. "I don't think you realize what you did for him. It was so kind."
"I was kind because he was your friend. Don't make it out to be more than it was. I would have done anything to get in your good graces."
Misty's heart flipped over. How she loved to hear him say things like that! "It was still very kind of you," she insisted, "and he won't fail you, Luc. He's an excellent designer."
"I agree. I've seen some of his designs—the clothes you wear for work." He frowned. "Not that I like to see you so bare..."
"Luc!" She was chuckling as she took his head between her hands. "You're very sweet."
