Mystique (13 page)

"Forget them," Luc growled,
reading her thoughts and pulling her to him in a fierce embrace. "You're
thinking of those two fools. Don't. I don't want to be compared to them."

"That would be impossible. You'd get
a nosebleed if you dropped down to their level," Misty said, the words
popping out before she could stop them. She felt her face flush.

Luc chuckled and kissed her cheek.
"Mystique, that was a sweet thing to say. I think I'll run out in the snow
and thump my chest."

"Not without clothes on,
you won't." She took a deep breath. "I won't let you."

"Lord, I've married a bossy
wife!" Luc lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom.

"Yes," she said firmly,
marveling at her own daring as she clung to his neck, not letting go even when
he let her slide down his body. He turned the spigots in the shower stall.
"Will we fit?" she asked, laughing again. She had never laughed or
giggled so much! Luc would begin to think she was silly.

"Of course we'll fit." He
watched with lazy amusement and flinched from the cold spray. After readjusting
the knobs, he tested the water. "There." He lifted her into the stall
and stepped in himself. "Isn't this nice?"

"Yes," she said softly, loving
the feel of his hard-muscled body against hers. "Luc..." She lifted
her head to look at him as he began running a loofah sponge down her arm.

"Uh-huh?" He seemed to be
completely absorbed in the task.

"Don't stay with me when we go
skiing today. I'll get an instructor to teach me."

He handed her the loofah, and stood still
while she scrubbed him. "I've already arranged for an instructor, Debbie
Allen, to give you a preliminary lesson. Then I'll take over." His eyes
went to her breasts as she raised her arms to rinse the soap from her body.
"Darling, are you finished? Good, because I think you'd better get out of
here if you want to go skiing today." His eyes glinted with laughter as
her eyes darted away from the most blatant sign of his obvious arousal.
"I'm beginning to think I may have to move my office to our house."

"Would you like to
postpone skiing?" she asked, stepping out of the shower stall and taking a
towel from the warming rack. Skillfully she wrapped it around her body like a
sarong.

"Yes, I would." He
closed the shower door with a snap, then abruptly opened it again. "Don't
think I don't know you're teasing me, wife." He grinned at her and banged
the door shut once more.

Misty skipped into the bedroom,
hugging herself. This can't be happening to me, she thought. Luc can't be real.

She was standing in her bra
and panties in the bedroom when he came out of the bathroom, naked and rubbing
his hair with a towel. She smiled, then laughed out loud when he closed his
eyes and groaned. In a few swift strides he closed the space between them, a
determined expression on his face.

"Skiing," Misty
muttered, laughing.

"Skiing, hell," Luc snarled,
scooping her up into his arms. "How can you stand there in those peach-colored
underthings and expect me to go skiing? It's insanity." He carried her to
the bed.

"Luc, you haven't had breakfast
yet," she protested laughing.

"Tell me about it," he muttered
into her skin, removing the bits of lace from her body.

The fire storm took them again, yet to
Misty it seemed brand-new—fresh and exhilarating. Afterward, she was sure she
must have misunderstood the words Luc murmured against her flushed skin. He
couldn't have said he loved her, could he?

They were holding each other, their hands
sliding over each other's bodies, waiting for the love tremors to subside, when
a knock sounded at the door. "Mrs. Harrison, I have your ski
clothing," said a voice muffled by the door.

With a sharp yelp, Misty jumped out of
bed and streaked into the bathroom. When Luc handed her a pair of slacks and a
shirt through a crack in the door, she poked her tongue out at him.

"Don't do that, love," he
warned, "or we'll be back in bed again before you know it." She
gasped, and he chuckled.

"Answer that door," she told
him.

It didn't take long to try on the skiing
togs, but Misty was surprised at how picky Luc was about everything for her. At
last, after the bellman left, they finished getting dressed, Luc's eyes going
over her in lazy assessment of everything that came into his view. "You
are one beautiful woman, Mystique Harrison. Even in those skiing togs you send
me into a spin."

Misty looked down at her pale green ski
outfit, which felt incredibly warm but as light as a feather. She moved her
feet in the heavy green ski boots.

Luc, dressed all in black
with black goggles dangling from one hand, ran his other hand over her short
battle jacket. "The man at the desk assured me that this was the lightest,
warmest outfit. How do your long Johns feel?"

"Comfy." Misty
wriggled inside her suit.

"You look damn sexy, too, my little
siren," Luc said in low tones. "Here, these are your goggles, and I
want you to wear them. The lenses are tinted to prevent glare, but they also
react to growing darkness and allow clearer night vision."

"The wonders of science," Misty
murmured, hooking her gloves onto her sleeves in the way Luc had shown her and
placing her hand in his as they left the cottage and walked the short distance
to the lodge.

Misty inhaled deeply of the numbing air,
feeling warm and comfortable in her thermal clothes. "My goodness."
She pointed to the chair lift rising up the mountainside. "That looks as
though it's going up at an awfully steep angle."

"It is," Luc agreed, watching
her. "The ride up can be cold, but coming down makes it all worthwhile.
Here, let me take you over to the instructor's office and get you
settled."

"No," Misty said, "it's
right there." She pointed to a small shed attached to the back of the
lodge. "You go ahead and get some skiing in while the sun is still
shining. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" Luc kissed her
and glanced around him as if searching for hidden dangers. He scowled at
several skiers who were lounging near an outdoor stove, then looked back at
Misty.

"I'll be fine," she repeated,
giving him a slight shove. After kissing her again, he reluctantly left her.

She went to the open window of the
instructors' office. Seeing no one, she called, "Hello, I'm Misty Car—Harrison. I'm supposed to have a lesson with Debbie Allen."

A tall blond man came up to
the window. "I'm Roger Larsen, Mrs. Harrison. Debbie isn't finished
teaching her youth group yet, so I'll be your instructor this morning." He
smiled broadly, deepening the dimples at the side of his mouth and making his widely
spaced blue eyes twinkle.

Misty decided she preferred
tall, athletic men with ash blond hair and brown eyes.

"Ah, fine," she
said. "Shall we go out now?"

"Just let me get my
gear."

Roger demonstrated several basic
maneuvers—the snowplow, a simple stem christie, and paralleling—on a slight
incline nearby. As Misty gained confidence, they progressed to a more advanced
beginners' slope. Roger skied closer to her as she tried to put her lessons
into practice.

Misty grew exhilarated as she continued
to ski without falling and was able to perform most of the turns with ease.
Soon she was eager to try the rope tow that would take them up an even longer
and slightly more precipitous incline.

She fell on the rope tow, receiving a
faceful of snow, but she held on steadfastly until they reached the crest of
the hill. "I really don't like that rope tow," she told Roger.
"I suppose I will hate the chair lift."

Roger laughed. "Don't worry. You'll
like the chairs better. But we'll try this hill a few times first."

Misty was amazed and pleased at how
rapidly she progressed under Roger's instruction. As she skied down the gentle
slope, she was delighted with the sensation of flying through space.

"Now we'll try the chairs." But
Roger fell abruptly silent as he gazed past her shoulder, a wrinkle of
puzzlement in his forehead. Misty turned to see Luc striding toward them,
looking like the very devil in his black attire. His mouth was a tight slash in
his face, and his hair shone silver in the sunlight.

"Mystique," he said angrily, tearing
the goggles from his face and glaring at Roger. "Where is your ski
instructor?"

"Debbie was still with her youth
group, so I volunteered to instruct your daughter, sir," Roger explained.

Luc seemed to swell with anger.

"Luc, you look like Darth Vader,"
Misty exclaimed, then clamped a mittened hand over her mouth when Luc's head
swung abruptly toward her. "Ah, thank you for the lessons, Roger,"
she called. "We have to go." She pushed her poles into the snow and
glided forward—straight into Luc! He caught her with his hands, struggling to
maintain their balance. "Thank you." Misty leaned up and kissed
Luc's chin, confirming with a quick sideways glance that Roger was skiing away
from them.

"Where the hell does he get
off—" Luc fumed, glaring after Roger, his arms around Misty.

"He was only teaching me to snowplow
and stem Christie, and tomorrow he wanted to show me—"

"I'll be teaching you
tomorrow," Luc said firmly, his hands tightening on her. He brought icy
lips down on hers. "Damn him," he said against her mouth before
lifting his lips a fraction of an inch. "Thinking I was your father. I'll
kill him." He ran his ungloved hand down her cheek. "You do look
young. No more than seventeen."

Misty leaned against him, reveling in his
warmth as his body sheltered her from the wind. "Roger's harmless,"
she assured her husband.

"Ha!" Luc laughed harshly and
leaned over Misty, his body shielding her. "Are you warm enough? Would you
like to go inside the lodge and get some soup?"

She did feel a little damp,
but she was eager to show Luc what she'd learned so far. "I'd like to go
up on the chair lift and ski down that slope first."

Luc studied her for a moment
and finally nodded. He checked to see that her poles were in the proper
position and skied with her to the end of the short line of skiers waiting for
the lift. A stiff breeze momentarily chilled her. "Did you just
shiver?" he demanded.

"Uh-uh," Misty lied, sensing
that Luc would whisk her back to the lodge in a moment if she gave him the
slightest indication that she was cold. But she hadn't anticipated the blasts
of frigid air that assailed her on the chair lift. Although she and Luc went to
only one of the intermediate hills, the frosty wind left her stiff and chilled
when she alighted with Luc's help.

"You are cold," he
accused her. "Your lips are turning blue. Damn you, Mystique."

"I'll be better once we
get moving," she said, trying to control the shivers that wracked her
body. Turning away from Luc, she skied toward the lip of the hill. Looking
down, she felt sure that the descent would be relatively easy, even for a
beginner like herself. But the cold had begun to stiffen her hands, and her
feet were chilled. She pushed off, wanting to get down to the bottom and into
the warm lodge as soon as possible.

"Mystique!" Luc called from
behind her, alarm in his voice.

Abruptly Misty forgot how cold she was in
the stunning realization that she was going to need all her concentration to
get down the slope without falling. She was moving faster than she cared to.
"Plow, darling, plow," Luc called. "That's it.. .good. Now
traverse. That's fine."

Suddenly he was at her side, guiding her
past a group of skiers. Sudden confidence infused Misty. Luc was there! He
wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Cautiously she tried to parallel. But her
left ski slipped, and she felt herself falling. The heel and toe bindings on
her left ski came undone, and she tumbled several yards down the hill, the
collar of her jacket filling with snow, her face pushing through the soft
powder. She was laughing as she raised herself from a snow bank.

Before she could stand up, Luc was taking
her in his arms and lifting her high. "Darling, are you all right? I
shouldn't have let you do it." Cradling her close with one arm, he wiped
her face with his other hand.

"Ptui." Misty giggled.
"Will Sweetgum Inn charge you extra because I'm eating up all their
powder?"

The beginning of a smile softened Luc's
rocklike visage. "You're a good sport." He kissed her nose, then
placed her on her feet. "Come on. Let's get down this hill."

Misty helped Luc brush the snow from her
clothes. "I want to ski down, Luc. Please. It isn't far."

"All right. But traverse." She
nodded, brushing some snow off him.

Luc stuck to her like glue the rest of
the way down the hill, talking to her, encouraging her, instructing her in
soft, sure tones.

When Misty reached the bottom, she
wobbled, then regained her balance and came to a full stop facing Luc. "I
did it!" she exclaimed, grinning and shivering at the same time.