Tall, Dark & Hungry

by Lynsay Sands

  “Well, then, why is he risking things working out with Terri by keeping quiet?” Kate asked. She sounded frustrated.

  “As I said, because he loves her,” Lissianna repeated. “Haven’t you heard about Josephine?”

  “Yes, of course. But Terri is different. She’ll be more understanding. Especially after what she went through with Ian. She—”

  Whatever came next was lost to Terri, for music briefly swept into the room as the door was opened, then receded to silence again as it closed. Lissianna and Kate were gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Terri’s thoughts were in an uproar. “Terri is different, she’ll be more understanding, especially after what she went through with Ian.” Kate’s words brought a myriad of memories floating through her mind: sobbing into her pillow at night as she listened helplessly to Ian’s moans of pain, a pain that no amount of morphine would ease; the sickly sweet smell of death in the house that had seemed to cling to everything, including Terri herself, for months afterward; Ian’s loss of dignity as he grew so weak he had to have every little thing done for him, down to the most personal and humiliating task.

  It had been torturous for Terri. But she knew it had been a thousand times worse for him, and she’d had to carry that burden too. She’d known that Ian wished it would all just end. He’d begged her many times to finish it for him, once he was too weak to manage it himself. Terri had resented that. If he had wanted to end it, why had he waited until he couldn’t do it himself? Why wait until the weight rested on her shoulders, and she had to carry the guilt of not being able to do it for him? For Terri had borne a mountain of guilt. She’d felt guilty that it was he and not she, that she was healthy while he suffered; that she couldn’t save him; and ultimately, that she couldn’t even end his suffering when he asked it of her.

  More understanding, Kate had said? Yes, Terri understood. She knew exactly what Bastien would go through with whatever terminal illness he had, because it seemed to her that this was what they had been speaking of. The medicine, the blood, the IV stand, and the secrets all suddenly made sense. As did the medication that caused photosensitivity, and the fact that Bastien merely picked at his food most of the time, seeming to have no appetite. It was all so obvious now: Strong, handsome Bastien had a terminal illness. Terri understood. She understood how it would go, and it was always the same. Death was death, whether by Hodgkin’s disease, breast cancer, or whatever Bastien was suffering. Terri knew this, and she hated the fact that he was going to suffer.

  But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t go through it with him. It was impossible. She had thought suffering with her mother and Ian was bad. But Bastien? Watching that vital, strong, and handsome man fade to skin and bones? To see him become weak and lost to horrible pain? Having him beg her to end it for him as his body rotted away? It would kill her. Terri could not handle it. She knew she couldn’t. And she was suddenly angry. So terribly angry. How dare he let her fall in love with him, knowing that he was dying? How dare he not tell her about his condition from the start, so that she might have guarded her heart and saved herself all the coming trauma? How dare he be sick on her? How dare he even consider dying? How dare he?

  The bathroom filled with music and laughter as several women entered. Terri was aware of their chatter, but didn’t really hear it as her mind whirled under what she had just learned. She waited where she was until they left and silence filled the room again; then she let her feet back down, straightened her clothes and let herself out of the stall. She moved to the sink and stared at her reflection as she washed her hands, but didn’t really see herself at first. Her mind was caught up in memories of Ian. But now, when she recalled how Ian had lain moaning in bed at night, he had Bastien’s face. When Ian begged her to end it all, it was Bastien speaking.

  Movement drew her attention to her reflection, and Terri stared blankly at the tears running down her cheeks. She was crying, which seemed odd because she wasn’t aware of feeling anything. In fact, her mind seemed rather numb. Yet there they were: tears leaking out of hollow eyes and coursing down her cheeks in little rivulets. She turned her attention to her face and noted that she was blanched of all color.

  She couldn’t go back to the wedding reception like this. She couldn’t even allow anyone to see her this way. Turning the taps off, Terri contemplated the problem. She’d have to slip away. She felt bad about it, but it seemed the only option. She didn’t want to ruin the day for her cousin and Lucern.

  She dried her hands off, wiped the tears from her face, then moved to the door and slid out. Noise and color assaulted her at once. The reception was in full swing. No one noticed her standing by the bathroom door. Terri quickly judged the fastest and easiest route out of the hall, and then took it. Much to her amazement, she managed to escape without running into anyone who might have stopped her; and the few she passed whom she knew didn’t seem to notice her.

  Terri walked straight out of the reception hall and to the escalators rather than risk having to wait for the elevators. The moving stairs had been turned off for the night, but she walked down them quickly, crossed into and out of the lobby, and rushed straight out the front door of the hotel.

  “Taxi, miss?” the doorman asked. Terri nodded. He blew his whistle, bringing the first waiting cab squealing into the driveway. It came to a halt in front of her, and the doorman opened the door. Terri murmured a thank you as she got in.

  “Where to, miss?”

  Terri gave Kate’s address and sat silent in the backseat, her mind blank. It stayed that way for the entire ride. It wasn’t until the taxi pulled up in front of Kate’s apartment building that Terri realized she didn’t have a purse. It hadn’t been necessary. Transportation had all been taken care of for the wedding, the meal was paid for, so there had been no cause for her purse. Terri stared at the cabbie with a sort of horror as he turned to tell her the fare, then she suddenly went calm. “Can you drive me from here to the airport after I grab a bag?”

  The cabbie looked surprised, then suspicious, then pleased at the large fare to come. He nodded. “Sure, lady.”

  “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute.” She slipped out of the taxi before he could protest. Terri half expected him to jump out of the car and chase her to insist she pay for the fare, but some angel must have been looking out for her—the cabbie remained in his cab as she lifted her skirt and jogged lightly up the steps to the front of Kate’s apartment building.

  Terri didn’t have the key, though. Bastien had it, because he had a pocket in his suit, whereas she didn’t have a pocket anywhere on her outfit. The plan had been that, once the reception was over, they would come collect her things, and she would stay with him for this, her last night in New York. He had said they needed to talk, and that he had something to ask her once the wedding was over. Terri, in her heart of hearts, had hoped that talk had something to do with love and their future together. Now she knew it was about death and dying.

  With nothing else for it, she buzzed the landlord’s apartment, now grateful that Kate had introduced her to the couple. It was the wife who answered, and Terri quickly explained that she had rushed back to the apartment to get something she’d left behind, but had thoughtlessly left her key at the wedding reception. The woman said she’d be right down to let her in. Terri knew the landlady could have buzzed her in from her apartment, but she supposed the old woman wanted to be sure it was her. Whatever the case, Terri resigned herself to waiting impatiently.

  “There he is.”

  Bastien followed his mother’s gesture to a booth in the back of the bar. Vincent and Lady Barrow sat, heads together, talking.

  “Hmm. I wonder if we made it in time,” Bastien muttered.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Marguerite Argeneau strode forward, leaving her sons to follow as she wove through the crowded bar.

  “Aunt Marguerite!” Vincent got to his feet at once when she stopped at the table. “What are you do…” His voice trailed off a
nd his mouth tightened as he spotted Bastien and Etienne.

  “I think Lady Barrow has to go to the ladies’ room,” Marguerite announced, focusing her penetrating silver-blue eyes on the woman.

  Lady Barrow gave a laugh. “Actually, no, I don’t.”

  Marguerite blinked in surprise, then turned a glance on her sons. “Bastien”—she gestured to the woman—“fix it.”

  Bastien was so surprised that his inestimable mother hadn’t been able to control Lady Barrow’s mind, as she had so obviously just tried to do, that it took him a minute before he tried to do so himself. And he found it impossible to even read her mind, let alone slip into it. After a moment, trying, as Lady Barrow watched them all with growing confusion, Bastien glanced to his mother and shook his head.

  “Etienne?” Marguerite asked, and her youngest son tried as well, only to shake his head after a moment.

  “You have an…interesting family, Vincent,” Lady Barrow said politely, and he abruptly stood.

  “Please excuse me for a moment, Kathryn. I need a word with them.” He excused himself, then took his aunt’s arm and led her away from the table. Bastien and Etienne followed. Once they were far enough away to not be overheard, he turned on them with irritation. “I wasn’t going to bite her. God, you people act like I’m some rabid dog, likely to go gnawing on every neck that goes by.”

  “Well, we knew you had to feed, Vincent,” Marguerite said. Her tone had changed and become soothing.

  “I did that at dinnertime. I came up to the bar for a quick bite, then nipped back.” He grinned evilly; then winked.

  “Well, then, what are you doing up here now?” Etienne asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked in exasperation. “I’m talking to Kathryn. She’s a fascinating woman.”

  “You aren’t going to bite her?” Bastien asked suspiciously.

  “No, Bastien. I’m not going to bite her. I wouldn’t go biting guests at Lucern’s wedding.”

  “Well, how were we to know that?” Bastien snapped. “You bit my housekeeper.”

  “That was an emergency. I don’t normally feed in my own home, or in the homes of relatives.”

  “You bit Chris, too,” Bastien reminded him. “And that was after biting the housekeeper.”

  “I had barely sunk my teeth into Mrs. Houlihan when you guys interrupted. I was still weak. I couldn’t hunt weak,” he explained patiently. Then he added, “And, by the way, you’re welcome.”

  “For what?” Bastien asked.

  “For taking care of the housekeeper,” he explained. “Meredith called upstairs one day, while you and Terri were off on one of your jaunts that first week, and I took the message. She had the address for where Houlihan was staying. I went and wiped her memory of what happened. And the memories of the two people she talked to. You won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  “Did you?” Bastien asked with surprise, then realized the matter had completely slipped his mind. He hadn’t been worried at all; he’d been too distracted with Terri. That could have been a bad thing. Details like that had to be kept track of and taken care of. It was a good thing Vincent had been on the ball. He was sincere when he said, “Thank you.”

  His cousin shrugged. “I caused the problem, I took care of it. Now.” He glared at them all meaningfully. “Can I get back to my guest? She really is a fascinating woman.”

  “She certainly seems to have a strong mind,” Marguerite commented, glancing curiously over to where Lady Barrow sat.

  “Yes, she does,” Vincent agreed. “And now that you know the guests are all safe from ol’ rabid Vincent, will you go back and enjoy Lucern’s wedding?”

  “I thought you came for something that little Katie left behind,” the landlady said as Terri led the way into the apartment, collected her purse and already packed and waiting suitcase, then immediately turned around with them in hand.

  “No.” Terri paused in the hall as the woman locked the door behind them. “I’m sorry for the trouble. But I have to get to the airport, and I couldn’t go back for the key.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble, dear. I just misunderstood,” the woman assured her as they waited for the elevator. She looked Terri up and down. “Are you going to the airport dressed like that?”

  Terri nodded silently.

  “Are you all right?” The landlady was staring at her with concern now, and Terri was sure she must look terrible since crying her eyes out at the reception.

  “I will be,” she assured the woman quietly, though she wasn’t at all sure it was true.

  “Well, have a safe trip.” The old woman said. Her concern was still obvious in her voice.

  Terri thanked her, then hurried out as the elevator doors opened.

  The cabby hopped from his car as soon as she came out the front door of the building. Terri could tell by his expression, as he hurried up the steps to take her suitcase, that he was relieved to see her. She guessed he hadn’t been at all sure she would return, and supposed the only reason for him to have taken a chance on her was how shattered she apparently looked.

  Terri thanked him as he carried her case down, then slid into the backseat as he stowed her bag in the trunk.

  “Which airport, miss?” he asked the moment he was back behind the wheel.

  “JFK,” she murmured, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  It was a long ride to the airport. Terri didn’t sleep, though the taxi driver must have thought she was doing so. She didn’t think, either—she lay quiet and still, and merely was. Her mind was blank, her heart empty. Oddly enough, that state made the long journey to JFK pass quickly.

  Terri dug the money out of her purse to pay the cabbie as he pulled up to the terminal. She gave it to him as he handed over her luggage; then walked into the airport and straight to the ticket desk.

  There was some difficulty getting a flight. All of those leaving New York for England were earlier in the evening. The last to leave for Manchester was departing even as Terri spoke to the ticket agent, but again her pale and shattered look helped; the woman went to herculean efforts to get her out of New York and on her way. Terri ended up with an incredibly long and circuitous route, flying to Detroit, transferring, flying to France, transferring again, then finally flying on to Manchester. Terri didn’t care. She just wanted out of New York and to be on her way back home to her little cottage and her safe life.

  She purchased her new tickets, canceled the old, and handed over her luggage. Terri then went to the washroom to change, only to realize she had handed over her suitcase and only had her hand luggage. It held nothing to wear. She walked right back out of the bathroom and surveyed the fashion stores available in Terminal One: Herme’s, Ferragamo’s, and American Clothier.

  She managed to find a comfortable yet inexpensive outfit in Ferragamo’s. After paying for it, she carried the bag with her through security, found her departure gate, went into the nearest washroom, and quickly changed out of her long gown. The pantsuit she’d purchased was nothing special, and Terri put her long, lavender dress in the Ferragamo’s bag with relief. She’d drawn attention in the fancy gown, and she didn’t really want people staring at her right now.

  Stepping out of the stall, she moved to the row of sinks and set her carry-on and purse on the counter, then surveyed herself in the mirror. She looked like hell, of course. And there was very little she could do about it. Terri went through her carry on and applied some makeup, but it didn’t hide the empty look in her eyes. She finally pulled out a pair of sunglasses and tried them, then decided they would draw as much attention as her hollow eyes. Taking them off, she dropped them in her bag and headed out to the waiting area.

  She had a little less than two hours to wait. That seemed a long time, especially with the worry that someone at the reception might notice her missing and start looking for her. She suddenly considered that she probably should have left some message for Kate, so her cousin wouldn’t waste time worrying abou
t her on her wedding night.

  Spotting a row of pay phones, she moved to them. Terri dropped fifty cents in, and dialed the hotel to leave a message with the desk. It was a cheerful, I’m-fine-and-at-the-airport, just-waiting-for-my-flight, have-a-great-honeymoon-and-I-love-you type of message. As if she wasn’t doing something completely unexpected, leaving so abruptly and ahead of schedule. It was the best Terri could do.

  She hung up, then picked up the phone again, only to pause and glance at her watch. It was the middle of the night in England. She couldn’t call now; she’d wake Dave and Sandi up. Maybe she should wait and call them from France, she decided. Although that wouldn’t give the couple much warning, or time, to get to the airport to meet her. Well, if they couldn’t get there in time, she’d take a taxi. She couldn’t really afford it, but such was life.

  “Was she in there?” Bastien asked Rachel as she came back out of the ladies’ room. He’d returned from taking care of Vincent, to find Kate missing. He had walked the reception hall several times in search of her, before giving up and asking Etienne’s wife to step into the washroom and see if she was in there.

  “No. Sorry, Bastien.” His sister-in-law shook her head. “I checked every stall. There’s no one in there at the moment at all.”

  Bastien frowned and turned to look around the hall. She had to be here somewhere. She couldn’t have just disappeared.

  “Perhaps she stepped outside for some fresh air,” Etienne suggested, joining them with the drinks he’d gone to collect from the bar. “Here you go, darling.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel took the drink her husband held out and took a sip. “Mmmm. A Bloody Mary. My favorite.”

  Bastien heard the comment, but he was already walking toward the exit. Etienne’s suggestion that Terri might have stepped outside for some fresh air was a possibility that he hadn’t considered. That was probably where she was, he assured himself. She was no doubt sitting out in front of the Hilton on the marble base—the place where they’d snogged like teenagers the night he’d taken her to The Phantom of the Opera.