Mystique (14 page)

Luc scowled at her, gestured to an
attendant, kicked off his skis, and loosened hers. In seconds he was hurrying
her into the lodge. "But Luc, you can't walk away and leave our stuff out
there," Misty protested. She looked over her shoulder to see if the young
attendant was giving proper attention to Luc's equipment.

"Never mind that. I have to get you
inside."

Another attendant rushed forward as Luc
half lifted her, hustling her through the doorway into the basement ski room. A
group of skiers was clustered around a blazing fire in a rough-hewn stone
fireplace. "Was there an accident?" a young man asked anxiously.

"No, of course not," Misty
denied, whispering furiously at Luc to let her go.

"My wife is cold," he said.
"I want some soup and hot chocolate now." He turned to glare at the
people sitting on a couch next to the fire.

"Stop that," Misty exclaimed.
"You can't act like Attila the Hun in here." A flush of embarrassment
warmed her cheeks as three people scrambled up from the sofa.

"Put her here," one offered.

"She can have my spot," said
another.

"Did she fall?" asked the
third. "Has she seen a doctor?"

"Luc," Misty said with a moan
as he settled her on the couch and unfastened her boots. She looked up at a
semicircle of concerned expressions and tried to smile. "I'm fine,"
she said weakly.

"She's very cold," Luc said, as
if accusing the world. He rubbed her bare foot, then blew on it.

"Stop," Misty said with a gasp,
feeling tendrils of warmth begin to uncurl deep inside her. "You're
tickling me."

"Am I, darling?" He caressed
her with his eyes.

Misty tried to sink deeper into the
cushions. "Have you no shame?" she whispered with a forced, lopsided
smile.

A young red-haired man
hurried up to them, carrying a bucket of warm water. "Here. This will
help," he said, lifting one of Misty's hands and plunging it into the
water. "We have to gradually heat the extremities, you know." He
stared at Misty wide-eyed. "I put baby oil in the water so your hands
won't be chapped."

Misty smiled weakly.
"That was very kind of you."

Someone bustled up carrying a
small tureen of soup. Another hurried over with hot chocolate in a white china
mug.

"Luc," Misty
begged. "Stop this."

He looked up at her with surprise, then
glanced around the room. "Stop what, love?"

Lord, she had married a sweet despot! Luc
was so used to having people jump up and run errands for him, that he saw
nothing out of the ordinary in being waited on. When he took the soup spoon and
tried to feed her, she glared furiously at him. "That's enough," she
snapped, snatching the spoon from his hand.

"Poor thing is still jumpy,"
someone said sympathetically.

"Yes, it must be nerves,"
another concurred.

"I'm fine," Misty insisted, her
exasperation turning to resignation. She looked into the depths of the
vegetable soup and raised a spoonful to her lips. It was good. She tasted
several more spoonfuls, then took a tentative sip from the mug of hot
chocolate, assuring everyone between sips that she really didn't want anything
else.

Almost half an hour went by before people
began to disperse. "Luc," Misty said, feeling exhausted from all the
attention, "I'd like to go back to our cottage now."

"Are you sure you're strong
enough?" He ran a worried glance over her.

"If I were any stronger, I'd be
pulling a trolley car in San Francisco," she retorted.

Luc's eyes narrowed on her momentarily.
Then a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Irked with me, love?"

"Yes," she declared, swinging
her legs off the couch and getting to her feet, resisting with effort the urge
to jerk her arm free of his hold.

"Sorry, but you'll have to get used
to it. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

"Must I remind you that I'm not
helpless? I've been on my own for some time now and—"

"You're my darling." Luc
fastened her jacket and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he dropped down to the
floor and lifted each foot to put on her boots.

Misty balanced herself by placing one
hand on his head. She was torn between the longing to savor the tactile delight
of Luc's crisp, clean hair and the irritated urge to give his head a good yank.

They said good-bye to all the people who
had been so concerned about Misty. Luc seemed to feel none of the embarrassment
she experienced. He promised that he and his wife would meet them for a drink
if they decided to stay an extra night.

On the short walk back to their cottage,
Luc kept his arm tightly around her, now and then pressing his lips to her
hair. Misty felt as though she were traveling in a pink bubble that they alone
inhabited. "Luc, you mustn't worry about me," she said, forgetting
her irritation in the relaxing aura of his presence.

"I can't seem to help it, my
dear." He gave her a bittersweet smile. "Marriage is proving to be
tougher and more complicated that I ever imagined."

Misty stared up at him as he held the
door open for her. A shiver of panic zigzagged down her spine. Was he already
regretting their marriage? Never! She wouldn't let him! He was hers now. She
stood in the center of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace,
crossing her arms in front of her, hugging the pain to her. Blinking, she
watched Luc bend to light a fire. Soon a roaring blaze was radiating heat into
the room. But still Misty didn't move.

"Hey, what's so interesting in those
flames that you can't tear your eyes away?" Luc asked, lifting her chin
and staring down into her eyes. "I'll be back in a moment. I'm going to
run a bath for you."

Still Misty didn't move. I really can't
survive without him now, she thought. Damn him. I hate him for making me love
him. Why did he have to make himself such an important part of my life? There
won't be anything left of me if he ever goes away. Damn him!

Luc came back into the room. He paused
momentarily on the threshold, studying her. "I should never have let you
get so chilled," he said grimly. "Come on, darling." Misty went
with him, loving the feel of his warm body as he led her into the bathroom,
keeping her close to his side. "Have I told you yet that I enjoy
undressing you?" he asked, removing her clothes in the steamy warmth of
the good-sized room.

"I like sunken
bathtubs," she mused, feeling a sense of defeat because she couldn't
muster the strength to tell Luc to get lost... before he took over her life
completely. She'd been able to do it with Leonard and Richard. Even with her
father she'd summoned up the courage to ask to live with her aunt and uncle.
Now she had a feeling of falling through space, of spiraling down toward the
crash that would inevitably come when Luc left her. Until then, she was
helpless to erect barriers between them to protect her emotions against him.

She looked down at him as he rolled her
long Johns down her legs. Damn you to hell, Lucas Stuyvesant Harrison. You've
hooked me like a fish and thrown me into the boat. I'm yours until you toss me
back into the water. How did you manage to soften my backbone? I used to be so
full of fight.

"Darling? Darling, are you
daydreaming? Not that I don't want you to, but I'd rather you concentrated on
me." Luc leaned forward from his kneeling position and kissed her navel.
"Because I sure as hell can't think of anyone but you."

"That will pass," Misty mumbled
as she slid into the tub.

"What did you say?" Abruptly he
stood to remove his clothes and stepped into the tub with her. "Whew,
isn't this too hot for you?"

"No, it's nice." She closed her
eyes and leaned against his chest, opened one eye and noticed an array of
powders and oils on the shelf next to the tub.

“What's this?" She raised a languid
arm and grasped a tall plastic bottle. "My goodness. Opium is a perfume. I
didn't know they made a bath oil, too. You'll like this, Luc."

"Mystique, for God's sake
don't—" Luc half laughed, half groaned as she poured the fragrant liquid
into the tub.

"Aren't we sweet?" she
simpered.

"You little devil. I should paddle
your bottom."

"Lovely." She looked up at him,
wide-eyed. "Why not?" Luc stared down at her for long moments, his
skin flushed.

"And when did you turn into
Circe?" he quizzed hoarsely.

"The minute you married me, I
think," Misty muttered, watching his face come closer.

"I agree." His mouth teased her
lips apart. "I want to have you all the time." She caught a note of
disbelief in his voice, as though such a realization had shaken him.

"I want you all the time, too,
Luc," she admitted.

"Darling..." He pulled her on
top of him and massaged her backside with gentle, possessive strokes, his teeth
nibbling at her neck. "You're so sweet. Each day I learn something new
about you.

"Me, too."

"You find something new about you
every day?" Luc chuckled and buried his face in her hair.

"Not about me, about you." Her
fingers kneaded the muscled flesh of his shoulders. Erotic sensations flooded
through her as she explored his chest and lower body.

"Yes," Luc said, his face still
in her hair. "Touch me, love. I want you to."

Misty had never especially wanted to
touch either Richard or Leonard. With them, she had tried to convince herself
that sex wasn't particularly important. Having similar goals, tastes, and ideas
about life were of paramount importance. But now! Every pore of Luc's body
hypnotized her. "You're gorgeous," she whispered. "I don't think
men are supposed to be so gorgeous."

"I never want you to stop thinking
that...Ohhh, Mystique, don't stop. That feels so good."

Luc's own hands became busy on her body.
Misty felt a familiar heat begin to spread deep inside her. Her flesh became a
liquid flame. Her pulse sped out of control. Her breath grew harsh and heavy.
"Luc, you're teasing me." She clasped him fiercely, exulting when she
heard him groan.

He rose abruptly to his feet, wrapped
them both in huge towels, and hurried her to the bedroom. Their love play
became fire play as both of them went up in flames of passion.

"Darling... not so fast.
I can't..." Luc's face was a mask of sensual feeling, his cheeks crimson
with blood, his eyes glazed with passion.

"Luc!" Misty heard the
hoarseness in her voice when she called out to him. She was awed by the power
of feeling between them.

Once again they scaled the heights to a
peak of emotion and fell back exhausted, still clutching each other fiercely.

"I never wanted anything so much in
my life as to satisfy you in our lovemaking," Luc murmured against her
breasts. "I've wanted that since the first moment I saw you."

"You have satisfied me," Misty
whispered, her eyes heavy with contented weariness.

"Your eyes are like dewy green
violets," Luc said. His grin was lopsided, as though he were trying to
hide the tumult only now subsiding inside him.

"I thought you were a banker, not a
poet." Misty ran her fingernail lightly down his nose.

"I'm finding that, since meeting
you, wife, I've become a multifaceted person." He took a deep breath.
"I find that I want to tell you things I've never considered telling
anyone else. You've changed me. I'd heard of sensual love, but I didn't believe
it really existed. I never believed that anyone could take over my life, yet at
the same time fulfill it with beauty and warmth." His body shuddered as he
drew in an unsteady breath. "There were always women. They were as
matter-of-fact about sex as I was. I was certain that was all there was to
it... until the night I first saw you playing the piano. You turned my life
upside down."

Misty giggled and snuggled closer to him.
He took all her weight on top of him and pulled the satin quilt over her back.
"Shall we stay one more day?"

"I can't. I have to work tomorrow
night."

"Have you forgotten that you're now
part owner of the Terrace Hotel?" Luc smoothed his hand over her backside.
"The very best part, too," he murmured, kissing her hair and trailing
a finger over her face.

"Don't be silly. I'm not the owner.
I'm married to the owner." Misty sighed. "Could we really stay one
more day?"

"Yes. I'll make a few calls."
He lifted her chin. "You are part owner of the hotel, darling. I arranged
for quite a few properties to be put in your name."

"Take them out of my name,
Luc." Misty leaned back, her hands braced against his chest. "I
really would rather not own anything. I can always work and—"

"Mystique," Luc interrupted her
firmly. His face was grim though his voice was soothing as he added, "I
don't give a damn what you do with your money and property, but it's yours and
it will stay yours until you sell it or give it away."