One Touch of Topaz (13 page)

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “This sounds familiar. Are we going to begin a health discussion again?”

“No.” She smiled, too, feeling more at ease. “It’s not necessary. I can see that you’re tired but won’t admit it. And I’m completely well, so that’s the end of the discussion.” She met his eyes directly and repeated deliberately, “Completely well, Fletch.”

His gaze slid away from her. “I can see that.” He turned away abruptly. “It’s damn close in here. Let’s go out on the terrace.” He strode toward the doors and threw them
open. “Skip says your studies are going full steam ahead. How do you feel about it?”

“Good.” She followed him out on the terrace, pausing a moment to enjoy the sheer magic of the view. Moonlight touched the formal rose garden before her with a silver radiance and gave the towers and battlements of the château a fairy-tale beauty. “Good heavens, this is lovely.” She stood for a moment drinking in that loveliness before crossing the terrace to where he was waiting by the balustrade. “What were we talking about? Oh, yes, my studies. I’m learning a lot about a great many things, but principally how much I have to learn about nearly everything.”

“That doesn’t appear to intimidate you.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “You’ve changed.”

“Perhaps I’ve grown up a little.” A gamin smile lit her face. “There was room.”

“More than a little,” he said slowly. “You’re … different.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged impatiently. “But I don’t think you brought me here to tell me this. You’re a busy man, as you’ve said many times before. Why am I here, Fletch?”

“I received word two days ago that your friend Paco Ranalto, Dr. Juan Salazar, and their families are off St. Pierre. They’re now in Barbados, and I’ll arrange to have them transported to the country of their choice and resettled as soon as possible.”

Samantha stood frozen as relief streamed through her. “Thank God.”

He nodded. “It’s all over. Your friends are safe.”

“Oh Fletch, do you know what this means to me?” Her eyes were sparkling with tears of joy as she reached out a hand to grasp his arm. “It’s like … I don’t know.” She spun away from him in a giddy circle. “It’s
wonderful
. It’s a new beginning for all of us.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” he said gently. “That’s what I wanted for you. A
new beginning, Samantha.” He paused. “With no strings.”

Her smile faded. There was a significance beyond the obvious in his words that she couldn’t mistake. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m having our marriage annulled.” He looked away from her out over the garden. “Very quietly. With any luck no one will ever know it existed. Your allowance will continue until you can support yourself decently, and of course there will be a settlement that will—”

“I don’t understand,” she said in bewilderment. “We have an agreement.”

“It’s over. Your friends are safe now.”

“But I haven’t fulfilled my part of the bargain.”

He didn’t answer her.

“You never intended me to repay you,” she whispered. “No wonder you made sure the newspapers didn’t find out about our marriage. It was all lies.”

Fletch swung around to face her, and she was shocked at his tormented expression.
“What did you expect me to do? I
know
you. I never could have stopped you from going back to St. Pierre for Ranalto. I had to set up a situation you would accept to let me do the job for you.”

“Not like this.” Her voice was shaking. “You shouldn’t have done it like this.”

“How else?” he asked hoarsely. “I didn’t have much choice. I won’t lie to you. I’d do it again if presented with the same circumstances. There’s no way I’d let you go back into danger.”

“Let
me? It’s my life. Do you know how I feel? How can I have any respect for myself if I let you do this?”

“For God’s sake, you took a bullet for me, Samantha,” Fletch said roughly. “If you want to talk about debts, that should pay me in full.”

“No, it’s not the same.” Her eyes were glittering in the moonlight. “You wouldn’t even have been on St. Pierre that night if it hadn’t been for me. We made a deal, and now you’re backing out of it.”

“Hell, yes, I’m backing out of it. Do you think I’m going to take anything else from you? I’ve been taking since the moment I set eyes on you. Lord, I almost took your
life
. If that bullet had been an inch closer, you would have died on St. Pierre.” His light eyes were blazing with intensity as he looked down at her. “So don’t tell me I have an obligaton to make a brood mare out of you, because I just won’t buy it. You’ll take your freedom and the settlement.”

“No, I—”

“Samantha, don’t do this to me. Do you think this is easy? For once in my life I’m trying not to think of myself. Help me.”

She gazed at him, finding it difficult to think, her mind clouded by pain and bewilderment. No, she could see it wasn’t easy for him. Deep lines of suffering grooved either side of his lips, and his eyes held the same torment she was experiencing. Perhaps she should try to understand and sympathize with him, but instead she felt a sudden flare
of fierce anger. “I don’t feel like helping you at the moment. I feel like kicking you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “I suppose I can understand that.”

“Can you? I’m beginning to think you don’t understand anything about me.” She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest to ward off a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the balmy weather. “You’re mistaken, Fletch. You don’t know me.”

“Samantha—” He took an impulsive step toward her and then stopped. “You’re upset right now, but once you think about it, you’ll realize it’s for the best. Do you want me to have Skip drive you home?”

She shook her head. “I believe I was invited to a party.”

He frowned. “Are you sure that—”

“I’m sure,” she said curtly. “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. I’ve learned a few social amenities since I left the caverns.”

“I never said—” He broke off and shook his head. “If you said that to hurt me, you’ve
succeeded. You could eat with your knife and swing from the chandelier and it wouldn’t matter to me.” His smile was bittersweet. “I’d probably enjoy it. I hate these stuffy shindigs.”

Samantha felt a rush of tenderness that came close to submerging the hurt she was experiencing. She wished desperately that she could stop the tenderness, stop the loving, but she was afraid it would never leave her now. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, then. I was my father’s hostess from the time I was twelve years old. There won’t be any chandelier swinging.”

“Pity.” One blunt finger reached out to touch her cheek. “I think I’d enjoy seeing gentle little Samantha do something wild.”

“Would you?” She stepped back from him because she wanted that touch so badly. She had forgotten how hot and weak she became when he was so close. “Perhaps someday I’ll oblige.”

“Not you. You’re too—”

“Gentle,” she finished for him. “It’s getting late. Your guests will be arriving.”

It was a clear dismissal, and for a moment he was disconcerted. She had changed from quivering emotionalism to cool serenity in the space of moments. “Let me take you inside.”

“No, I want to stay out here for a while. I’ll be in later.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I do,” she said calmly. “Don’t worry, there won’t be any weeping and wailing. I just have some thinking to do. Run along.”

He found himself staring at her in bemusement before turning away.

“Oh, I do have three questions I’d like to ask you if you don’t mind.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

“Is Monette Santore still your mistress?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her since I left for St. Pierre.”

She carefully kept from her expression
any hint of the relief she was feeling. “Do you have another mistress?”

“Samantha, this is …” He shook his head again. “No.”

“Did you really want me, or was that a lie too?”

He looked away from her, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then the words came slowly, haltingly. “It was no lie. I want you.”

He turned, and his stride as he left the terrace and entered the château possessed a strange element of flight.

Want, not wanted. Present, not past tense. Hope.

The faintest smile touched Samantha’s lips as she looked out over the garden. She stood there for a long time, a slim goddess of the sun in a realm of moonlight.

Then, her decision made, she turned and walked briskly across the terrace and entered the château.

I
F SHE DIDN’T
do it now, she never would.

Samantha braced herself and opened the door to Fletch’s suite. Her breath escaped in a little rush of relief as she saw that he wasn’t in the sitting room. She had thought she was ready to face him but found the reprieve more than welcome.

“What the devil do you mean, you didn’t take her home? Who else would do it? One minute she was standing in a corner talking to Frezdorf, and the next she was gone.” A door to the left of the elegant sitting room
was ajar, and Fletch’s impatient voice was issuing from what must be the bedroom.

“No, Frezdorf didn’t take her home. He stayed to talk to me after the party.”

Only one voice. He must be talking to someone on the phone, she thought as she moved toward the door.

“Well, find out where she is. Go to her apartment and make sure she’s all right.”

Another pause and then Fletch spoke again, enunciating each word with great clarity. “I don’t care if it’s after three in the morning, Skip. I want to know she’s safe. You should have insisted she get a telephone. Who ever heard of anyone not having a telephone in this day and age?”

Poor Skip. Fletch was giving him too much flak for her to stand here hesitating just because she was suddenly assaulted by a case of nerves. She pushed open the door. “It’s very peaceful without a telephone jangling at you all the time.”

Fletch was sitting upright, his auburn head leaning back against the exquisitely
carved mahogany headboard of the canopy bed. He was completely naked.

Relief flickered across his rough-hewn features as he saw her standing in the doorway. Then it was gone, and his face was expressionless once more. He spoke into the phone. “Never mind, Skip, it’s okay.” He hung up the receiver. “I suppose you have some explanation for worrying the hell out of me?”

“Were you worried? I didn’t mean to trouble anyone.” She came into the room and closed the door. “I just wanted to simplify matters, and I thought this was the best way to do it.”

She hadn’t expected him to be naked. The sight of him gave her an odd erotic shock. In the primitive earthiness of the cavern she had found the nudity of his bold, powerful body arousing but somehow natural. In this ultra-civilized room of Louis XIV furniture and delicate patterns carved on fine old wood, his sexuality was a stunning anomaly. Her gaze was drawn like a magnet to the
brawny muscles of his thighs, framed against the navy satin sheets.

“Of course I was worried.” He scowled. “All evening you were laughing and talking, charming every blasted man in sight, and then you disappear completely.”

“I was waiting on the terrace until the last of your guests left.” She smiled faintly. “I did some scouting earlier to locate your suite. I’m quite good at scouting, you know. It’s a talent I was forced to acquire in the last six years.”

“May I ask why I’m honored by your presence? I thought you understood my position and that our discussion was finished.”

“Oh, I’m done with discussion.” She kicked off her shoes, reached behind her, and unzipped her gown. “Talk is entirely finished.” She let the gown drop to form a golden pool on the Aubusson carpet. She stepped out of it, dressed only in a garter belt, her bikini panties, and the sheerest of stockings. “I understood everything you said.”

Fletch’s gaze was fastened, mesmerized, on the delicate fullness of her naked breasts. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked hoarsely.

“Undressing.” She sat down on the petit-point-cushioned seat of the Louis XIV chair against the wall and unfastened one of the tabs holding her stockings. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Samantha, listen—”

“No,” she said clearly, rolling down the stocking and pulling it off. “You listen to me.” She undid the other stocking and started to roll it down. “You made sure I was put in a position where I was forced to accept your charity—”

“It wasn’t charity. You were shot because of me, dammit.”

“It was charity.” She tossed the stocking aside and unfastened the garter belt. “And it only goes to show how little you really know me, that you’d even think I’d let you get away with it.”

“I do know you. You get to know someone pretty well under circumstances like the ones we shared.”

She shook her head. “You got to know only a part of me. You got to know a woman who was exhausted, frightened, and at the end of her rope. Why did you think that was all there was to me? I survived in those hills for six years. I saw my father shot to death before my eyes. I went through more than you can ever imagine.” She stood up and tossed the garter belt aside. “You appear to think because I seem to have a gentle nature, that must denote some kind of weakness.”

“I didn’t say that, Samantha.”

“But you believe it. You even told Skip to quit calling me Topaz.” She came toward him, wearing only her jeweled slave bracelet and her topaz ring. “If I’m gentle, it’s because I choose to be. Not because I’m incapable of being strong. I’m Samantha, but I’m also Topaz.” She stopped by the bed. “I can’t black out those six years because they
helped to make me what I am. I’ll always be both Samantha and Topaz for the rest of my life.”

His eyes were hot as they ran over her, fastening on the tight, springy curls guarding her womanhood. “You can call yourself anything you want, if you’ll just put some clothes on,” he said thickly.

She shook her head. “Why?” Her gaze flicked down his body. “That’s not what you want. You want me to come to bed with you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”