Mystique (15 page)

Misty laid her head on the sinewy comfort
of his chest. "I'm not the rich type," she muttered, kissing a flattened
nipple.

"We're never going to get out of
this bed and go to dinner if you do that," Luc warned. He shifted her to
one side so that they were lying face to face. "But I do like it."

"I like to do it." Misty kissed
him again.

In moments they were flesh to
flesh, locked in another journey through the dynamic world of love. A long
while later they finally left the bed and began to dress. Misty paused in
putting on silky, flesh-colored briefs and turned to catch Luc's gaze on her.
She grinned. "I thought I felt someone looking at me."

"Your husband was looking at you,
Mrs. Harrison." He let out a long breath. "And if I don't get dressed
in the bathroom, we'll never get out of here." When she chuckled, he
grimaced at her.

At last they left the cottage and strolled
hand in hand to the main lodge.

Dinner was a gourmet's delight, much to
Misty's surprise. "Sweetbreads en brioche in the mountains!" she exclaimed.
"And prawns Pernod!" She took another bite of the succulent shellfish
broiled in lemon and rosemary with a touch of dill. "Isn't that just like
you to find a place in the middle of nowhere that serves gourmet food."

"Now that you're a Harrison you'll
have all the benefits the family enjoys."

"I'm a Harrison," Misty mused,
testing the words.

"Yes, you are, wife. For the next
eighty years." Luc lifted a forkful of his boiled lobster for her to
taste. "Good?"

Misty .nodded. "Yummy."

"Yummy?" Luc laughed. "I
like the word. You're a yummy wife."

After they finished glasses of cognac and
sampled assorted cheeses, they danced. "Why do I get the feeling that my
wife doesn't like cognac?" Luc murmured as they turned and swayed to the
slow rhythm of the music.

"It's terribly strong
stuff, isn't it?" Misty said, her mind on Luc, not the cognac. "I
imagine you could get roaring drunk on it."

"Ummm," he agreed. "But
not on the amount you drank, love. I've put down a good bit of it a time or
two, and the next day I felt as if the dentist was drilling my teeth through
the back of my skull."

Misty lifted her head from his shoulder
to look at him and smile. "Dopey."

"Yes." He kissed her nose.

They danced for a while longer, then went
back to their room to make love again. The next day they skied all day. Luc
never left Misty's side. After dinner that evening they packed and began the
drive back to New York.

Misty had the sinking feeling that the
paradise they had shared at the Sweetgum Inn was coming to an end
.

CHAPTER SIX

Luc headed straight for his house.
"I think Alice may have brought the girls back today," he told Misty.

"Shouldn't we stop at my place and
pick up some of my clothes?"

"I think what you'll find in our
room will be adequate until we get your clothes tomorrow." Luc grinned at
her.

"Luc, tomorrow I won't have a car to
carry them in. And you'll be at work."

"Do you have a driver's
license?"

"Yes, I learned to drive Uncle
Charlie's truck when I was sixteen. But I won't have a car." She was still
trying to persuade him to turn back to her apartment when he drove into the
garage under his brownstone.

"There." He pointed through the
windshield. "That's yours—all gassed and checked and ready to go. There
are two sets of keys in our bedroom upstairs, and"—he fumbled on his key
chain—"another set right here. I also made another key to the Rolls in
case you want to drive it."

"Never," Misty said
faintly, her eyes glued to the pale green Lotus he'd pointed to. "Can we
look at it?" she whispered.

"Yes," Luc whispered back,
teasing her and kissing her ear.

"You're spoiling me," Misty
said with a gulp. "Please don't buy me anything else. I mustn't forget how
it is to work for things. If I have to take care of myself again—"

"I'll be taking care of you for the
rest of your life," Luc declared. He got out of the car and came around to
open her door. His face was taut, and his eyes slid uneasily away from her.

"Luc, please. I didn't mean to hurt
your feelings. The car is so beautiful."

He glanced down at her and sighed.
"I know. I guess I'm a little too sensitive but I don't like you talking
about being away from me, being on your own."

"I won't do it again."

They walked hand and hand over to the
sleek car. Misty wouldn't let Luc unlock it until she'd walked all around it
and studied each piece of chrome and pale green steel. "It's not quite the
color of your eyes, but almost." Luc grinned at her over the top of the
roof.

"It's beautiful. I hope
I'll know how to drive it."

"Let's find out." He opened the
passenger door and climbed inside, reaching over to unlock the driver's door.
"Get in, Mystique."

"But, Luc, the luggage. We
just got home." She bent down to look at him through the window and bit
her lower lip when her eyes encountered his steady gaze. She nodded and sank
down into the leather driver's seat. "Nice," she whispered, accepting
the keys Luc handed her. She took a deep breath and inserted the key into the
ignition. The engine fired with a low growl. Misty took another deep breath and
shifted into reverse.

"I thought you might prefer a
standard shift to automatic," Luc said, lounging back in his seat,
watching her.

"Yes, I do. I just hope
I won't strip the gears." She checked the rearview mirror and backed out
with scarcely a jerk. She swallowed with nervousness as she turned the car
toward the ramp that led to the street. "Here goes," she called with
forced brightness.

"Don't worry, darling.
Even if you dent it, it can be fixed."

"Luc! Don't say that." Misty
turned left at the corner and cruised down Fifth Avenue along the east side of Central Park.

"For someone who hasn't driven in a
few years, you're doing fine," Luc said. "I'm proud of you. The only
thing I ask is that you never park in a dangerous neighborhood. Use a chauffeur
when you go anyplace that might be risky. Promise."

"But, Luc... Oh, all right, I
promise."

They returned to the underground garage.
Misty felt exhilarated at having driven the sophisticated machine.

"That was fun," she told Luc
once she'd parked the Lotus and they'd begun to unload the Ferrari. "My
sisters will be wild about it."

Luc laughed as he retrieved two large
pieces of luggage and gestured to her to take the two smaller ones. "The
key with the gold cross on it is the house key."

Misty unlocked the door and preceded him
to the basement. While they were still in the dark, she said, "Luc, thank
you for the lovely honeymoon. It was wonderful."

He pressed the switch with his elbow,
lighting their way, his eyes finding her at once. "It was great for me,
too, darling. But we'll have a longer honeymoon in a few months. How would you
like to go to Jamaica? A friend of mine has a place there."

"It sounds wonderful, but can you
get so much time off?"

"A man is entitled to a
honeymoon," Luc insisted.

"How many, do you think?" Misty
laughed as she stepped into the hall, glad to set down the two small bags.

"As many as we
want." Luc set down his cases with a sigh and kissed her nose. "What
do you say we raid the freezer and see if there's a casserole? While it
defrosts in the oven, we'll unpack, shower, and change."

"Good thinking."
Misty felt her heart turn over when he took her hand to lead her into the
kitchen, but she stopped short when Bruno padded down the hall to greet them.
"Hello, Bruno," she whispered tremulously, though she felt nervous
delight when the dog wagged his short tail and rubbed his muzzle against her
hip.

"You've made another
conquest." Luc chuckled and kissed her hair.

A note on the counter from Mrs. Wheaton
informed them that a casserole was in the refrigerator, needing only to be
warmed, and that there were homemade rolls and a pie in separate containers.

"We'll have a feast," Misty
said, pulling out the covered dishes. "Ummm, nice salad."

An hour later they finished their meal as
strains of Rachmaninoff came from the stereo. Arms around each other, they
went upstairs to bed in a sensual, languid eagerness to make love again, which
they did all night long.

When the phone rang very early the next
morning, Misty grumbled and didn't open her eyes as Luc got out of bed to
answer it. "Hello? Alice? Yes, how are the girls? Yes, we had a wonderful
time at Sweetgum. We're going back to ski later this winter." He glanced
warmly at Misty and smiled. Then the smile left his face, and his brows came
together over his eyes. "What? When did this happen? Yes, all right, keep
the girls with you until then. Yes, we'll see you tomorrow. John is coming with
you? There's no need for that. All right."

Misty stared at Luc as he hung up the
phone. He hit his fist lightly against the wall several times and stared at the
small print of the French wallpaper. Finally he turned back to Misty. "It
seems your father called. He's in town."

"My father?" Immediately she
felt as if all the blood had left her body. She wet suddenly dry lips.
"Why?"

"He didn't say. He spoke to Aileen.
She called Alice." He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to face
her. "Apparently your sisters became very quiet and withdrawn when Alice told them your father was here. So she decided to keep them with her and have Aileen
tell your father to call tomorrow. I'll call Aileen and tell her to send your
father here."

"I... I don't know what I'll do if
he tries to take them," Misty said, more to herself than to Luc.

"Darling, it's as much
my problem now as yours. Together we'll handle your father and your
sisters." Luc held her cold hands in his and stared into her eyes.
"No one is going to hurt you again, or bother your sisters. I intend to
see to that. You are not to worry about anything."

"But you don't know him," Misty
almost whispered. "And you don't know me. I've never told you."

"Darling, were you a victim of
incest?"

Misty jumped and started to
shake. "No," she said honestly, embarrassed. "My father never
touched me... not in any way."

Luc stood up, pulling her to her feet and
slipping her arms into a robe, then pulling on one himself. "It hurts you
so much." He clenched his teeth. "Do you want to talk about it
now?"

"No," Misty said. "I want
you to hold me."

"That I will gladly do, my
love."

Misty held on to him as if for dear life.
/ will be strong, I will be strong, she repeated silently over and over again.
/ will not let father do that to me again. I won't.

"Mystique." Luc's voice sounded
harsh. "Stop thinking about it. You have nothing to fear from
anyone."

Misty pushed away from him and looked up
into his face, which was twisted with concern. "I'm not afraid," she
said, letting her head fall back against his chest. But deep inside she knew
that wasn't true. She did fear something— that Luc would want to leave her when
she told him the terrible story of her life. And she didn't think she could
live without him now.

"Your eyes are talking to me,
darling," he whispered. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"If you have time before you go to
work, I would like to tell you something."

"I'm not going to the bank
today."

"You'll be fired for
malingering," she said in a feeble effort to lighten the mood.

"I'll find work," he assured
her, threading his hand through hers and leading her to the dining room. He
smiled at his housekeeper, who was putting a pot of coffee on the table.
"We'll serve ourselves, Mrs. Wheaton," Luc said. "We don't wish
to be disturbed unless my sister or a Mrs. Aileen Collins phones."

Luc seated Misty at the round
table and opened the drapes to let in the morning sun. At the sideboard he
filled two plates, then brought a pitcher of iced orange juice to the table.
"Here we are."

"I'm not hungry," Misty said,
wringing her hands nervously under the table. "I want to tell you this
before I lose my courage."

"All right." Luc sat down
beside her, inching his chair close to hers. His eyes held hers. "But
first, remember that nothing you say is going to shake our marriage." He
lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing each finger and sucking gently on her
thumb.

"Luc, you don't know." Misty
tried to free her hand, but his grip tightened.

"Tell me."

She let out a long, shuddering sigh and
looked out the window to the snowy terrace. "My parents are close to each
other. As you know, I'm the oldest. I remember being happy as a small child,
but the older I got the more they seemed to turn away from me. By the time I
was a teenager my father was finding fault with everything I did. I couldn't
please my mother either. From the time I was thirteen, I knew they didn't want
me. Each day my mother would recite a list of my deficiencies to my father, and
he would rant and rail at me, telling me how I'd failed them, how I wasn't what
they wanted, how troublesome I was." Misty swallowed. "Neither one of
them ever hit me, but they never hugged me either." She shot a quick look
at Luc, then turned back to the window, unable to meet his eyes. "I
remember thinking that it was strange they'd had children when they disliked
them so much. But as my other sisters grew up, it didn't seem so bad for them.
I began to think that it was only me my parents hated, not the others. I was
absolutely sure I had failed them, but I didn't know how. I saw a therapist
when I came to New York. He taught me not to hate myself."