Elena knew people were growing more intrigued now. A giant, dark-haired man sat down in the chair Tess Surprise had just vacated. Everyone talked pleasantly again, and she tried to concentrate on discussing perestroika and glasnost and all the other trendy Russian-American issues, but her hand kept itching to grasp her next-door neighbor’s.
Itching. He had some kind of itching problem, and as long as he sat this close to her, she would feel it on her own skin. When Bernard came by with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, the giant grabbed one and drank it in a gulp.
“Excuse me for drowning my sorrows,” he said to everyone, chuckling grimly. “But I have the worst case of poison ivy in medical history. I chased my wife through the woods last week, and all I have to show for it is an urge to have my legs sandblasted from the knees down.”
“That’s not what you said at the time,” Echo Lancaster commented. She winked at him, smoothed long black hair back with a cinnamon-skinned hand, and smiled at the group. “I was trying to make him feel at one with nature, like a Cherokee. Instead he only feels at one with a tube of cortisone cream.”
Elena rested a hand on his tuxedo-clad arm, as if in sympathy. “You have this terrible ‘poison ivy’ all over you?”
“We’d better not be specific about where he has it,” his wife interjected, grinning.
He tried to smile, but his eyes were riveted to Elena’s hand. “But it was worth the—do you have a fever?”
She was done, thank goodness. With a sigh of relief she drew her hand into her lap and feigned surprise. “A fever? Are you making a joke?”
“I … no, never mind. Too much champagne. I need some air. Excuse me.”
Looking bewildered, he rose and extended a hand to his wife, who strolled with him out to the prettily lighted pool.
“My champagne must be unusual tonight,” Audubon noted from his guardian place by the mantel. “First Kyle comments on it, now Drake.”
Elena ignored him. Someone else had taken Drake’s place. One of the wives, and she had indigestion.
There were two dozen people here, and all of them had some little ache or pain that she could fix. She felt a little tired, but she would pace herself. The evening was going as she’d hoped, even though Audubon wasn’t reacting the way she wanted. His mood worsened as she grew more comfortable and moved around the room, talking to people, touching them whenever she could find an excuse, winning their curiosity and smiles.
He remained a silent, dark force in the background, watching her constantly, his expression just short of being angry, or maybe hiding more anger than she realized. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong, but she knew she couldn’t stop. It began to scare her, because she could feel deep fatigue creeping through her body. But she was pacing herself, and as long as she did that, she would be fine.
As the hours passed, the laughter and conversation surrounded her like honey for a queen bee. Everyone felt wonderful, and several commented to Audubon that she had a way of making people relax, or forget their troubles, or something. She was a success.
A very tired success, now worried she wouldn’t have the energy to climb the stairs when it came time to say good night. She slipped out of the room finally, intent on going to the enormous kitchen deep inside the manor and making herself a strong cup of coffee.
She walked slowly down a narrow side hallway that angled through the back of the house, her feet weighted, her chest heavy with exhaustion. It was a servant’s route, with bare walls and linoleum floors, and she liked the simplicity. Her tormented feelings over Audubon cried out for this calm little place.
“Stop, please. I want to talk to you.”
Audubon. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself, turned gracefully, and waited with a thready pulse as he approached her. His shoes made clipped, authoritative sounds on the linoleum; his head was up and his body wired with tension.
“Yes?”
“What the hell have you been trying to do tonight?”
He stopped less than an arm’s length away, and his fury washed over her. There was pain in him, but not the kind she could heal with her touch. “I have been trying to make a good impression on your friends.”
“I told you these men were off-limits.”
As his meaning sank in, her lips parted in amazement. She leaned harder on the wall, and locked her knees to keep from swaying. “I was just as friendly to their wives as to them. How can you accuse me of … what are you accusing me of? Trying to steal them from their wives? Oh, Audubon.” His name came out with a soft, bitter moan.
“Stop touching them. I don’t care how innocent it seems. I know you don’t have much experience in social settings, or with ‘free’ men, meaning men who haven’t been instructed by Kriloff to keep you occupied, but—”
“But you don’t think I have any morals, either!”
“That’s not true. I merely believe you’re eager to see how much influence you have now that the ugly duckling has become a swan.”
“Are you blind?” Shivering with rage, she wanted to slap him. But hurting him was beyond her comprehension. “Are you blind?” she repeated softly, brokenly, and turned away, leaning her head against the wall. She laughed wearily. “Again, I’m some kind of bird to you. Right now I feel like one who’s crashed. Leave me alone.”
“I’ll say your good nights for you. I think we’ve both accomplished what we intended for this party. Different goals, unfortunately. But it’s over. Take the back staircase and go up to your suite.”
He walked away without giving her a chance to answer, to tell him she was no child to be ordered to her room, that he was proud, stupid, and had no right to be jealous or judgmental. After he left she decided dignity wouldn’t let her use the back stairs. She returned to the main hall, intending to head for the staircase in the front foyer.
“Elgiva, it’s all right. Please, calm down.”
“I’ll get Douglas.”
Elena halted, listening to the anxious female voices. They came from a sitting room tucked into an alcove at the other end of the hall. She went to it as quickly as she could, using the wall for balance. Sara, Kyle’s wife, hurried out of the alcove and almost bumped into her. Elena took her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Elgiva may be having a miscarriage. I’m going to find Douglas.”
In the alcove Tess sat on the floor next to a small couch, where Elgiva lay, her head propped on the armrest, her knees bent and bare feet braced against the opposite armrest. Her beautiful blue gown was a stark contrast against her ashen skin. Tears streaked her face. She had both hands on her abdomen.
“I started having terrible cramps a few minutes ago,” she whispered, as Elena sank to the floor beside her. “And I’m bleeding a little. I’m going to lose the only bairn I’ve ever had—the only one Douglas and I might ever have, for all I know.”
Elena felt as if her bones would turn to soft wax at any second. This was the last thing she ought to do, after such a tiring night. The other things had been nothing but parlor tricks, compared to this. She thought about the danger for the length of time it took her to gently push Elgiva’s hands away and put hers in their place.
Audubon was in his study, brooding, a glass of cognac in hand, when Jeopard found him. They ran to the alcove, where Elena was unconscious on the floor. Tess Surprise held her head and Elgiva held one of her hands, while Douglas knelt beside Elgiva, an arm around her. One of the other wives, a physician, was checking Elena’s pulse. The rest of the crowd waited quietly in the hall.
Audubon groaned under his breath when he saw Elena’s face. It was nearly as pale as the ivory carpet. He sank down and took her hand from Elgiva. It was limp and cold.
“Her pulse is very weak,” the physician said. “I think she should go to a hospital.”
Audubon pulled her into his arms. Her head fell loosely, terrifying him. She was as fluid as a dream in his arms, and as difficult to hold. “Elena,” he begged in a hoarse whisper. “Come back.” He
tucked her head against his shoulder and held her fiercely. “What happened?”
He listened in a daze as Elgiva explained. She choked on tears. All she knew was that she wasn’t in pain anymore. Oh, God, he understood now. But why had it put Elena in this desperate state? She hadn’t been like this after saving his life, and that couldn’t have been easier.
Elgiva touched Elena reverently. “The last thing she said was, ‘Your baby is fine now. I promise.’ Audubon, what did she do?”
“She healed you. If she said the baby is fine, then you can believe her. She’s a healer.” He rocked her and couldn’t keep his voice from breaking. “She’s incredibly special.”
There were soft gasps and murmurs from the people crowded around them; men who were shocked by nothing were asking each other and their wives questions about what they’d felt when Elena touched them. Audubon was so frightened that he heard their voices through a veil of shock; inside it were only he and Elena, and everything was quiet except for the barely perceptible sound of her breathing.
“Come back,” he whispered into her ear, urgently. “This isn’t freedom. Don’t go alone. Come back. Stay with me.”
“Her pulse is a little stronger,” the physician noted. “But not good.”
Audubon slid an arm under Elena’s legs. “Someone call Mac to meet us at the helicopter. That will be faster.”
But before he could pick her up, she murmured his name and moved a little. His heart racing, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back so he could study her. Her coppery lashes flickered, then lifted. Even the strange, faded blue that he’d seen before couldn’t make her eyes any less glorious to him. She seemed barely able to hold her lids open, but she looked at him with recognition—and love. “I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said gently.
Her lips moved just enough to let faint sounds through. “No … only rest. Nothing else … helps.”
“Are you sure?” He stroked her face with his fingertips, trying to give back the mysterious force she had said everyone shared. “It will be safe. No one will find you. I swear.”
“No good. Only … sleep.”
“This has happened to her before?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, but not this severely.”
“I still think she should be examined in a hospital.”
“Audubon.” Her voice was so weak that he had to put his ear close to her lips to hear it. “Don’t want … strangers … testing me … anymore. Please.”
“I’m not going to let anyone humiliate you. But I’m afraid that you need medical care.”
“No. I swear. Sleep.”
His chest was tight with fear, but the pleading look in her eyes tore him apart. “No hospital, then.”
He carried her upstairs to his suite. Her breathing was more normal, but she remained slumped in his arms. In the soft light of a Tiffany lamp beside his bed, her skin looked rosier than before, but he wasn’t sure if it was just the lamp’s illusion. She sank into the silk sheets and large pillows with a grateful sigh.
Audubon sat beside her, holding her hand tightly and caressing her forehead with his fingertips. “This is what Kriloff meant. You could destroy yourself unless you’re careful. And you know that. Why did you push the limits all night?”
Her face seemed small and fragile inside the frame of blond hair and ivory pillow. Blinking slowly, her eyelids threatening to stay shut each time, she still managed to look determined. “It’s all I have to give. My value.”
He bent his head and held her hand to his cheek. “No. It’s only one part of what makes you special. You don’t have to use it to be loved.”
“Had to help Elgiva.”
“But the others—no. They would have been drawn to you anyway.”
“I wasn’t … trying to draw the men … the way you thought.”
Audubon shut his eyes and kissed her upturned palm. Her fingers feathered gently over his cheek. The terrible coldness was fading from them. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to share you with them.”
Her whimper was the sweetest note of an inner song. “I love you. No matter … what happens.”
Stunned, he cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Nothing bad will happen. You’re going to rest. I’ll be right here, all night.” Forever. “Try to sleep.”
He reached beneath her and unfastened the top buttons of her bodice, pulled it down her shoulders, and stroked his spread hand along her neck. He wanted to draw her pulse to the surface of her skin, bring her strength back, promise her life. Her eyes opened a little wider, solemn and trusting. With his fingers resting just above her breasts he gauged her slowly moving chest, and every breath of his own was in sync with hers. He leaned down and kissed her. “Do you know? Can you tell? Have you been blind all this time, yourself?”
The blue of her eyes became more vivid as he watched. Small miracles were taking place every second. “Yes,” she whispered. “But would you say it out loud for me?”
“I love you, Elena. I love you, dear dove. And no one is ever going to take you away from me.”
She smiled and fell asleep. Audubon watched her with tears on his face. Promises were planted like flower seeds between them.
Eight
She woke the next morning with his arm wrapped snugly around her waist, and the delicious angles and textures of his body only a wish away. Coming out of many hours of leaden sleep caused by her exhaustion, she let his nearness and the fresh day’s anticipation soar through her blood, but she lay still, not turning her head to look at him yet, enjoying the moment with her eyes shut, recreating what she remembered.
I love you, dear dove.
During the night she’d awakened enough to know that he was removing her clothes down to nothing but her full-length white slip and panties. She remembered his hands on her thighs as he removed her garter belt and hose, then his fingers gently tugging her bra from under the slip. His touch had been sensual, but not sexual. He didn’t linger or coax—there was nothing self-serving about his attention—but he imprinted his tenderness on her skin.
Then he’d kissed her forehead and gotten into bed beside her. Naked? Even now she didn’t know. His body wasn’t quite touching hers, except for his arm. Listening to him breathe was a small delight in itself. The great Audubon asleep! It hardly seemed possible the man indulged in something that made him so defenseless, so vulnerable to dreams and temptations. She loved him with a fierce ache in the center of her chest. The future would be wonderful. She was determined.
She made herself wait to look at him. Deliberately she trained her eyes on the white ceiling and its elaborate wood molding, then on the riot of sinfully plush pillows, tapestries, and upholstered chairs, which oddly enough produced a nestlike security. It made his bedroom the most peaceful den she could imagine. The outside world was muffled by the heavy drapes. She had awakened in a glorious cocoon, with the best companion in the world.
Slowly she turned her head to look at him. They shared a pillow; he was so close, she could count each dark brown eyelash and smile at the natural curl of the tips. His mouth was solemn, unfrivolous territory with a sensual lower lip that made exploration irresistable. Every sculpted angle and line of maturity proclaimed the vital, primitive sexuality of the male face.
Would everything be all right between them this morning? She hadn’t imagined his words last night. She knew they’d torn down the most important barrier both he and she had built. But this was an enormous leap forward in hopes, in dreams.
Breathless, she turned on her side and closed the small distance between them, mewing softly when her body settled against his. The contact was even more affecting than she’d thought, and she began trembling inside, her senses threatening to dance over the edge.
Even still asleep he was aware of her explosive invitation. He shifted languidly, then his topmost leg curled over both of hers, his arm snaked farther around her waist, and to her delight she found herself captured inside a provocative, full-length emb
race. Every tender emotion and fierce need met in an uncontrollable reaction; she arched against him and shuddered, biting her lip to keep from crying out in joy and astonishment. Her body writhed without really moving, held still by shock and willpower, but her restraint only sent the sweet ache deeper, where it pulsed.
She was dazed and panting when the sensations withdrew to a safe distance, but they lingered there without fading completely, a marvelous storm that could shift toward her again with the slightest change of currents.
The man was still asleep! She was pleasantly embarrassed by what had happened. He hadn’t touched her, kissed her, or even looked at her, but here she lay in the afterglow of making love to him.
And wanting, already, to do it again.
Flushed, quivering, wide-eyed, she huddled against the restless little movements he began to make. He wore pajama bottoms. She smiled. He was such a gentleman. Her smile turned into a silent, ecstatic oh! when he swiftly became aroused inside their silk confines. Even asleep, he prodded her belly with lusty welcome. The best kind of gentleman.
He gave a long, slow, sigh of pleasure—such an enticing sound, half-exhalation, half-growl—that she shivered in happy response. Elena nuzzled the crook of his neck. The sumptuous, brocaded bedcover, silk sheets, and fluffy pillow contrasted and conspired with his hard, lean body. She felt the lovely turbulence gliding back.
Incredible. Disturbing. He was going to wake up in the midst of all this and think her strange, desperate, or at least self-centered. She was to the point where she didn’t know if she cared about appearances as long as he wanted her immediately. Elena angled her face up to his and sank both a moan and a kiss onto his slightly parted lips.
Awareness rippled through him. Suddenly the heavy, quiet muscles flexed and woke. Suddenly his eyes opened and stared directly into hers. He lifted his head, dragged at her lips as he left them, and looked down at her in shock. “What’s wrong? Elena!” He was on his knees instantly, pulling the covers back, staring anxiously at her, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re burning up. Make it stop. Darling, you can control this. Concentrate. Don’t let it hurt you.”
The Silver Fox and the Red-Hot Dove Page 13
