"Too much emotion floating around, I suppose. Some of it was bound to get misdirected."
"In America, is it common for two people who love each other to run off to separate bedrooms when they're upset?"
"I can only tell you that it was common for my parents." But they didn't love each other.
"They had too many bedrooms then."
He nodded. Lord, am I blindly repeating their worst mistakes? "I didn't want you to go. But I'm asking you to put aside too many questions. You can't really trust me right now. I understand."
"Trust, my love, is something I don't give and take back easily. I may be angry with you sometimes, but I believe in your goodness. I've felt it inside me, I've heard it in your voice, watched it in your actions, seen it in your eyes."
He couldn't answer. He simply held out a hand. She came over quickly and wrapped it in loving warmth. They walked to the bedroom and undressed in silence. She helped him smooth the covers and straighten the pillows. She got into bed first and pulled the covers up, then held them open for him to slide in beside her.
He put his head on her shoulder and sighed when she gently stroked his hair and face. When she touched his damp cheek, she smoothed the moisture into her fingertips as if his tears were the most precious gift he could offer.
* * *
Chapter Nine
The clink of fine silver and the scent of sweet, warm bread woke her, and just as her eyes opened she realized she had slept with none of the restlessness she'd known all her life. The emotional confrontation before dawn seemed like a shadow that had faded with the night. It might return later, but she pushed it out of her mind for now. Her body felt pleasantly heavy, as if the muscles were soaked with relaxation.
"Good afternoon," Audubon whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. He was sitting beside her, one updrawn leg pressed cozily against her hip. She glanced down, wishing the covers and his crisp tan trousers didn't separate his skin from hers.
With the trousers he wore a white polo shirt with a tiny gold griffin stitched on the left breast. The shirt was custom-made, she knew, because he'd explained that all his clothes were created for him by an exclusive men's shop in England. The griffin came from the Audubon family crest.
A belt of fine, woven leather with a slender gold buckle circled his waist. His silver hair was glossy with brushing, every strand in its regal place. His hand, as he stroked his fingers down her cheek, carried the faint trace of some expensive cologne and a sweet citrus fragrance.
She decided not to comment on the purple shadows under his eyes, or the emotional distress etched in his face. She was worried about him and their situation, but she felt that talking about it might only make them both feel worse. She let herself float in his affectionate gaze. "You, sir, are a feast for my senses. But why are you fully dressed and out of bed, while I'm naked and most definitely in bed, waiting?"
His soft chuckle added to the sensual provocation. "I have a meeting downstairs in five minutes. I brought you breakfast."
She glanced at the silver teapot and china cup on the nightstand. Also on the small silver tray was a bowl of strawberries and cream, plus a plate filled with muffins covered in orange marmalade.
Elena took his orange-spiced fingers and kissed them. "I've never had breakfast in bed before. It's a very decadent American custom. Let's do it often."
"I look forward to it."
She reached over and ran a finger through the marmalade, then dabbed it to the center of his lips. He licked her fingertip, and his green eyes turned dark with intensity. But he clasped her willful hand and shook his head. "If I gave into temptation, I'd be here for hours."
"I'm afraid so. I'd tie you to a bedpost."
"I'd let you."
"Perhaps I'd just tie you to me."
"I'd let you."
She sighed. "Go to your meeting before I wrap my arms around your knees and refuse to let go."
"Now that could be interesting." He groaned in exasperation. "I wish I hadn't overslept, but it's your fault."
"I was minding my own business."
"You were breathing against my ear. I kept dreaming we were at the ocean. You were part of the tide. It was seductive, all that coming in and going out."
"I'd love to indulge your dream. I want to go back to the ocean. I'd never seen one before I came to America. Looking at it made me feel there were no boundaries in the world."
"We'll go, then. I'll take you to beaches so beautiful, you can't imagine them."
"I'd love it." She cupped her hand along his face, caressing his cheek. "You really have to go downstairs this minute?"
"Afraid so. It's important."
She fought off the feeling of dull dread in her stomach. "The meeting's about your son?"
"Yes. Some of the men you met the other night are here to discuss his problem. This is one time when I'm asking for their help as friends, not former employees."
She hesitated, wondering if he were any less reluctant to trust her with his work. Elena had avoided asking questions because not asking was easier than being hurt by his secrecy. "Ask," he coaxed, reading her face with disturbing ease. "It's all right."
"What sort of work is Kash doing in Mexico?"
"He went to find the wife and children of an archaeologist who died recently."
"Forgive me--what is an archaeologist?"
"A scientist who studies the things left behind by ancient civilizations."
"Ah. You knew this scientist personally?"
"Yes. Dr. Juarez and I met in college. We'd been friends for more than twenty years."
"Oh, Audubon, I'm sorry he died. How did it happen?"
"He was shot while working alone at a project site. Murdered. He'd learned that a wealthy businessman was looting the ancient art treasures for a private collection. He was about to go to the police."
"You sent Kash to help his family?"
"Yes, to make certain they got out of the country. Kash accomplished that easily, but then he couldn't resist investigating the murder." Audubon smiled sadly, but with fierce pride glinting in his eyes. "I'm afraid I encouraged him to be too independent. He was supposed to leave the investigation to me. He didn't." Audubon drew a finger down one of her breasts and gently stroked the nipple. His distracted expression told her his thoughts were in Mexico, with his adopted son. His touch seemed to seek solace in her softness and warmth.
"He wanted to protect you?" she asked gently, thinking that Kash Santelli probably loved his adopted father very much, and with good reason.
"Yes. The businessman involved has a nasty reputation for revenge."
"Why would he want revenge against you?"
"I helped to destroy his son."
Her hands rose to her face in shock. "You mean his son died because of you?"
Audubon nodded. "Indirectly. He committed suicide rather than be exposed for what he was--a kidnapper and a spy. Remember Sara Surprise? Kyle's wife?"
The pretty elf with the strawberry-blond hair. Her husband, with his terrible scars. "Yes."
"She was one of the people he had kidnapped. That was before she met Kyle. She's a biologist. A researcher. Later I'll explain why she was kidnapped, but I don't have time now." He paused, grimacing. "The man who kidnapped her was responsible for Kyle's scars."
"And he was a spy on top of all that? Who did he work for?"
Audubon stroked her arm. "The Soviets."
Elena's horror made her turn away, pressing her fingertips over her mouth. Tears burned her eyes. "I see why you never wanted to discuss all this with me before. Is his father--the man who threatens Kash, now--is he a Soviet spy too?"
"Miguel de Valdivia? No, darling, he's just your garden-variety greedy bastard. Elena, come here." He pulled her into his arms and stroked her bare back. "There are plenty of self-serving, despicable people in the world. Your country has no monopoly on them. Don't take it personally."
"I'll feel dirty by association if that man does something terrible t
o Kash."
"Don't even think like that. This vendetta isn't about government intrigues; it's about fathers and sons. Kash has disappeared in Mexico. I don't doubt he's capable of taking care of himself, and I've sent some of my best people there to help him. He may just be in hiding. I'm still trying to find out."
She drew back and looked at him miserably. "I'm afraid for you."
"My dear dove, this crafty old fox has survived the hunt too many times to be outsmarted now." But then he kissed her deeply, pouring much more emotion into it than he had put into his words.
Breathing roughly, wanting to cry but adamant that she wouldn't, Elena tilted her forehead against his and shut her eyes. "When Kash is safely home, you'll have to introduce us."
"Of course. But he won't believe it, you know."
"Believe what?"
"That you beat me at checkers. I'll tell him you cheated."
"Oh, you!" She gave a hollow imitation of a laugh and shooed him off the bed. He walked to the bedroom door and paused, looking back with a sad, yearning expression that stabbed her.
"A wonderful new life is ahead of you," he said. "I hope it makes up for all those years at the institute."
She nodded, forcing herself not to admit what she was screaming inside: Don't talk as if I'll be going on without you.
She floated in his arms. Above them, the glass roof of the pool house showed a universe of stars. The night sky came right down through the glass and hovered around them, seeming to be careful not to creep too close to the cluster of candles by the pool's edge. The water reflected blue light and made the pool into a fantasy daytime sky. She felt protected by the shimmering light. Infinite amounts of time were locked in the light, the warm water, and Audubon's touch.
He cradled her in water so deep that when she leaned her head on his shoulder, the water lapped against her chin. She put her arms around his neck and turned her face toward the crook of his neck, then kissed the hollow of taut muscle just above his collarbone. For a moment she looked beyond the edge of the pool, where all of their clothes were jumbled together on a wicker chaise longue. "You're certain that Bernard won't be coming by to ask if we'd like after-dinner coffee, or anything else?"
"Bernard, my dear dove, has been politely instructed to scram for the night."
"Scram?"
"Vamoose. Take a powder. Beat it. Go away."
"I hope he doesn't bruise himself."
She felt the pull of Audubon's smile against her temple. "He's in his apartment."
"Oh. Very good."
"He and Clarice are probably playing footsie by now."
"What kind of game is that?"
"Well, in the case of Bernard and Clarice, I imagine that it involves one set of very dignified toes and one set of very naughty ones."
"Are you saying they're lovers?"
"Yes, they have been for several years. You'd never know it by watching them together during the day, would you?"
"No! They're extremely formal with each other."
"I walked into the library once and saw Clarice tickling him."
"What was Bernard doing?"
"Saying in his most solemn British-butler accent, 'Really, now, you she-beast, really.' But he was grinning. Not smiling. Grinning. I wanted to take a picture so I could show it to the rest of the staff, as proof that he has teeth."
Elena chuckled. "You adore both him and Clarice."
"Yes. I wish I'd had grandparents like them."
She smoothed a finger down his throat and into the silky, matted hair of his chest. Ah, she thought, his family mysteries. Trying to sound casual, she asked, "What were your grandparents like?"
"My father's parents didn't enjoy children, so whenever they visited I was shuttled off to another part of the house. I only remember their cheeks and their checks."
"What?"
"I dutifully kissed their cheeks each time the nanny presented me for inspection, and I received checks from them on my birthday and at Christmas. As for my mother's parents, they lived in Europe. I rarely saw them. To sum it all up, I wouldn't have cared if I'd had no grandparents."
"Oh, you would have cared. If you'd never met them, you'd always wonder what they were like. I'd give anything to have known mine."
"Elena." His voice was full of apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."
"Shhh. I stopped feeling sorry for myself years ago. When you grow up being alone, it eventually feels normal to you. You hear other people talk about their families and you think, 'How odd to have so many people care what happens to you!' "
Audubon rubbed circles in the small of her back. "I know. I've always wondered how people can see themselves as part of a group, instead of alone."
"I envy them."
"But I wonder if they feel suffocated sometimes."
"No, I suspect they feel cushioned. Without a family, there's no one around to catch you when you fall."
"Or to notice and remind you of your clumsiness."
"You certainly don't seem to mind having a son. What an interesting contrast to your cynical view of family life."
"Kash was already eight years old when Douglas Kincaid and I smuggled him out of Vietnam. And he'd lived a very rough life. It was like moving another adult into the house, not a little boy. Kash and I have never been pals or confidants, the way fathers and sons are supposed to be."
Elena thought, But your love for him shows every time you mention his name. "Was your father your friend?"
"Hardly. I have better taste."
"Audubon, what happened to your parents and sister? And why did you sell the estate that had been in your family for generations?"
He was silent, and she lifted her head to look at him. "How did this conversation come to such a morbid subject? I will tell you sometime. But please, let's save tonight."
How bad could the story be? Elena's sympathy mingled with a dark urge to find out. He studied her face. "Don't be angry. If I didn't care so much about your opinion of me, it would be easier to share this. But I don't want to spend tonight discussing something so ugly."
The quiet anguish in him overwhelmed her questions. She kissed him. Changing the subject abruptly, she held up one wrist and nodded toward the small, oval bump beside the tendon. "When I come out of hiding, one of the first things I'd like to do is have this removed. From now on I want to make my own decisions about my body."
"Do you want children?"
"Someday, yes. For now I'd just like to know that I control the decision not to have them."
He circled her wrist with his fingers and rubbed the implant, as he studied it grimly. "I don't have any right to ask this, but..."
"How many men were there?" She gave him a victorious look. "I can read your thoughts."
"Hmmm. A psychic talent you haven't mentioned?"
"No, pure feminine intuition. But I have to remind you that I've never asked you about the women in your past. I was afraid I'd be shocked. I was certain I'd be jealous."
"Let's put it this way--there are too many for a string quartet but far too few to make a full orchestra. Not a large number considering how many years I've been a music fancier. Actually, I'd like to specialize from now on. I'm a one-instrument man, at heart."
She relaxed, patting his chest. "And you play it so well."
"Thank you." The lighthearted conversation didn't make him forget his earlier question. Winding his fingers through hers reassuringly, he said, "I'm only asking you about the past because this gut-wrenching fear won't leave me alone."
"Fear?"
"That you were treated like a clinical sex toy by dozens of men. I want to know how you feel about sex so I won't upset you in some unknown way when we make love. And frankly, I'd like to be certain that, after everything you went through, you can still enjoy the romance of it. I want you to very much."
"Dear man." Unable to say more without crying, she nuzzled his face lovingly until she could calm her voice. "I'll have to begin writing poetry for you as well as m
aking flowers bloom. I doubt that my poems would be very eloquent, but they'd certainly come from the heart."
Tilting her head back, she held his gaze firmly and told him about the boy she'd known when she was twenty-one, and then about Pavel, who'd seemed so romantic and sincere but who'd only been following Kriloff's instructions to keep her occupied, while he reported on her progress.
Audubon looked relieved and sympathetic. "You should have had a few more men, so you'd know exactly how fantastic I am by comparison."
That broke the somber mood, and she was able to smile. "I have no doubt I've found the best. How many men could eat tangerines in bed without getting juice on anything except the breasts of the person next to them?"
"Why, I like fresh-squeezed juice and fresh squeezed..."
"And how many men could recite Shakespeare while kissing delicate parts of the female body?"
"Not many. Especially when you kept interrupting with your pleas for more. It nearly ruined my concentration."
"I was asking for more Shakespeare, of course."
"Of course. Yes, I'm in a class by myself."
"And so humble about it."
"But let's keep talking about you. What do you like best about me?"
They broke into soft laughter at the same time. "Your good taste in choosing women."
Humming under his breath, he carried her to the side of the pool and lifted her up. The rough-grained stone edge gently abraded the backs of her thighs as she caught her balance. Then his shoulders were spreading her legs, and his hands were sliding up their inner surface, followed by his kisses.
His intentions were as clear as the night sky, and suddenly her skin was alive to its own universe of sensation. Audubon's arms slid under her legs, and his hands gripped the sides of her hips, helping her to lie back on the smooth tile floor. The pool sipped at her dangling feet. Droplets of water licked her belly as they trickled downward. Audubon began to trace the water's journey with his mouth. "You taste very good, indeed," he whispered.
Paradise was this night, and loving him.
Silver Fox and Red Hot Dove Page 15
