Mystique (19 page)

"Darling, you're cold. Let me make
the water warmer."

"No, no. It's fine." She tried
to smile up at him, but when she saw his eyes narrow in concentration on her,
she pulled his head down and kissed him deeply. She kept her mouth on his until
she felt his lips begin moving against hers, his mouth opening, his tongue
thrusting against hers.

As they toweled each other dry and put on
their clothes, Misty kept up a ceaseless round of questions concerning the
board of directors' meeting.

"You've always been a good
listener," Luc drawled, "but you seem obsessed with business this
morning." He regarded her speculatively. She shrugged and didn't respond.

Even as they descended in the elevator to
the hotel foyer, Misty felt him studying her. Melton was waiting for them
outside the front entrance when she and Luc emerged.

Luc pulled her close to him. "We
promised to be open with each other," he reminded her in low tones, his
eyes piercing hers.

"We are open," she
said weakly.

"Then tell me what's on your mind.
What's making you frown?"

"Ah
...
I was trying to figure out what music to play on Thursday." As soon as she
said the words, he stiffened beside her. He knew she was lying, but he didn't
contradict her.

They were silent in the limousine on the
way to the bank. Misty's head was filled with worries. How long had it been
since she'd been to a gynecologist? When had she had her last menstrual period?

"Luc
..."
She licked suddenly dry lips as the car came to a stop
in front of the bank.

"I'll be a little late
tonight," he told her.

"Luc, we promised your
mother and father we'd go out to the house Friday night and stay the weekend.
They're giving another dinner party and—"

"Mystique, I really am
in a hurry." Luc kissed her lightly on the cheek and hurried out of the
car. Melton pulled away from the curb, not seeming to notice that his passenger
was pressing her fist against her mouth. She was bewildered and upset. She had
withdrawn from Luc, and he had sensed the change at once.

Back home, Misty was greeted by Bruno and
Mrs. Wheaton. She listened to what the older woman said about preparing
dinner, promptly forgot it, and raced up to her bedroom, Bruno at her heels.
Nowadays he rarely left her side when she was in the house, and she had come to
love the dog.

She dialed her gynecologist's number and
made an appointment, feeling frustrated when she had to make it for two weeks
away. "Would you put me on a cancellation list, please?" she asked
the nurse.

She paced the bedroom rug, back and
forth, back and forth. She couldn't have a child. She couldn't take the chance
that she would be like her mother. To hurt a child that way! She buried her
face in her hands as tears filled her eyes. Bruno whined at her side, and she
patted his head. Why had she stopped taking the pill? The headaches they caused
weren't so bad! Why had she assumed she wouldn't get pregnant when she went off
the pill? She started in surprise when Mrs. Wheaton entered.

"Mrs. Harrison, I knocked, but— Why,
what's wrong?" the older woman queried, coming farther into the room.

"It's nothing, Mrs.
Wheaton. Just a slight headache, that's all." The housekeeper frowned, but
she left when Misty assured her she was fine.

That evening Luc was silent and aloof as
they drank coffee after dinner, a silver tray between them. The thought of
making love with him worried Misty, but the thought of alienating him was an
even greater fear. Nothing must come between them! Hesitantly, she stood up and
went over to sit on his lap, cuddling close to him.

At first he did not respond. Then,
gradually, his hold on her tightened. "Witch," he whispered into her
hair. He began to caress her with slow, seductive strokes. Moments later he
surged out of the chair, holding her in his arms, and strode up the stairs, his
cheeks flushed with passion.

That night their lovemaking
was frenzied. Misty felt as though they were joined not just in body, but in
blood and in spirit as well.

Unlike other nights, when they had
cuddled and joked softly for a long time before falling asleep, now they held
each other in fierce silence until welcome sleep took them both away.

The days remaining before she and Luc
were scheduled to drive to his parents' house on Long Island were fraught with
tension. Not all of Misty's efforts succeeded in melting the frost between
them.

"It's unfortunate that I love you,
husband," she whispered to the framed picture on her dressing room table
that Friday afternoon as she packed her clothes for the weekend. "I was a
fool not to go back on the pill as soon as we were married, but I got
headaches... Maybe Dr. Wagner can suggest an alternative."

Just then Luc came into their bedroom,
stripping the tie from his neck. "Since I'm here, why not talk to me
instead of to my picture?"

"Ah
...
I was just asking your image if you would like two pairs of jeans packed or
one." Misty watched his relaxed features tighten.
He knows I'm lying,
she moaned to herself.

"I'll pack the rest of my
things," Luc told her, striding to the second bathroom attached to their
suite.

"Luc," she whispered aloud. She
couldn't explain to him how she felt, even though he'd met her mother. He would
tell her she was wrong, she supposed, but she couldn't take a chance with their
child. What if she was as twisted as her mother? No... no...

Talk between them was
sporadic as they finished packing, checked with Mrs. Wheaton, and left the
brownstone. "In the time since I've lived in New York, I'd never gone to
Long Island until I visited your parents' and Alice's homes," Misty said
as they left the city. She cleared her throat. "I enjoyed dining with them
last month." "So you told me." Luc's words were clipped.
"So I did." Misty began to burn from discomfort. "I was only
trying to make conversation."

"Yes, you make conversation, but
you're not honest with me. Is that how it should be?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Look, Mystique, I'm not the one
who's being evasive."

"I am not an evasive person,"
she shot back, her temper beginning to let go.

"What you mean is, you're not
evasive or dissembling with most people. With your husband you are." His
words seemed to echo in the confines of the car.

"Where the hell do you get off
telling me what I am or am not, Mr. Perfect!"

"When did I ever do that to
you?"

"When didn't you?" she
retorted.

"There's no sense in continuing this
discussion."

"Don't patronize me," she
cried. As Luc pulled off the expressway and headed toward the North Shore, she faced out the window, ignoring the tree-lined avenues, open fields, and
glimpses of Long Island Sound.

Silence reigned for what
seemed like hours to Misty. Then the car was turning into a curving driveway
bordered with rhododendrons, their brown leaves like claws snapping in the cold
wind. The denuded trees looked to Misty like phantom guardians of the large
sandstone and brick house they were approaching. Situated in the middle of a
tremendous expanse of lawn, the building seemed to brood over the barren
landscape.

Before Luc had pulled the car
to a complete stop under the porte cochere, the double oak doors were flung
open, and two boys of five and seven raced down the steps. "Good
Lord," Luc muttered with evident amusement. "Attila the Hun and
Genghis Khan are here." He turned to Misty, grim humor on his face.
"My sister Deirdre's brood has arrived. My two nephews, Greg and James,
who are now assaulting my car. Wait a minute, you two, until I get the door
open. Their baby sister Jennifer, who has mastered the dubious art of smiling
and spitting up at the same time, is also undoubtedly here." Misty gave a
tentative laugh as the boys clambered onto the hood of the Ferrari. Wincing,
Luc bounded out of the car and tackled them. "All we need now is for Velma
to show up with her gaggle from Chicago. Janie, whom you met, is their only
civilized child."

"Luc, you cad. Are you trying to
kill my angels?" A tall, slender woman with gray eyes and ash blond hair
similar to Luc's stood at the top of the steps, dressed in a simple pink
cashmere dress. She hurried down as Misty stood uncertainly next to the car.
"And you must be Mystique, the beauty who finally corralled the famous
Elusive One. Good for you. What did you use? Bear traps?"

"A lasso," Misty answered,
watching Luc pluck the two boys from the car and imprison one under each arm.
"As a last resort I was planning to use poison—nothing lethal, you
understand, just something to slow him down."

Deirdre threw back her head and laughed.
"Oh, I love it. He has, indeed, met his match." Not seeming to mind
the cold, she held out her hand. "I'm Deirdre. And I still think you
should
consider poison."

"Thank you for the advice."
Misty chuckled at the boys, who were making faces at their uncle and smiling at
her.

"Very funny," Luc said, panting
and red-faced as they all climbed the steps to the open doors. "Stop
wriggling, you monsters," he admonished. "Ah, Hawes. Get the bags,
will you? Thanks."

"They drive him crazy, but he loves
them," Deirdre explained. "How many will you have, do you think? Oh,
Lord, Luc, watch them, will you? That's mother's Tang vase."

Misty felt vastly relieved that Deirdre
had been momentarily diverted from the question of children.

"Lord, Dee, couldn't you peel one of
them off?" asked a tall blond man coming into the massive foyer. He
watched as Luc wrestled with the boys on the marble floor, again coming
dangerously close to a Louis Quatorze table on which stood a rare vase of roses
and baby's breath. He came forward to introduce himself. "I'm Ted Manning,
father of the twosome that's assaulting your husband on the floor."

"Hello," Misty said, grinning
back. All of Luc's family made her feel so at ease.

"Is that you, Mystique,
dear?" Althea, Luc's mother, came out of the mammoth living room carrying
a baby girl dressed in a pink pinafore, the one blond curl on top of her head
tied with a pink ribbon. "Those are the boys, dear," she explained,
casually handing her the baby. "And this is Jennifer. She's very good, but
you should have this towel just in case." She adjusted the flannel square
on Misty's shoulder.

Deirdre chuckled. "Let me take the
baby until you can get your coat off." She hefted the baby onto her hip,
and Ted took Misty's coat. "I've just met your sisters, and they're
delightful. I like the idea of holding a Mardi Gras party to introduce the
girls to society rather than waiting until the fall, don't you?" Deirdre
handed Jennifer back to Misty.

"Ah..." Misty couldn't remember
having heard about a Mardi Gras party.

"What the hell are you talking
about?" Luc asked from the floor. Ted told the boys to behave, and Luc
managed to shake them off for a moment. "We don't know about any Mardi
Gras party. What in the world has Alice been up to?"

"You should see the girls."
Deirdre giggled. "They look so preppy in their skirts and sweaters, and
they love their schools. They seem very excited about Mardi Gras. Ted and I
have decided to fly back for the occasion, and I know Vel and Ken will want to
come, too. I understand just everyone will be there—at least three hundred
guests."

Misty gasped. Luc stared at his sister in
astonishment. "She's lost her mind," he declared.

"McLaren will do the flowers,"
Deirdre continued, "and Bijou is handling the food, and a couturier by the
name of Morey is making all the clothes, including mother's dress."
Deirdre finished breezily, apparently unaware that her brother's face had
turned brick red.

"Oh, that's lovely. Morey's a
friend," Misty offered, then bit her lip as Luc glared at her.

"Do you realize that she's creating
a... a..."

"A bang-up do?" Deirdre
suggested sweetly.

"A stampede," Luc corrected
angrily. "And you can stop laughing, Ted. You'll be ordered to wear white
tie, too."

Luc's brother-in-law chuckled and held up
a hand. "Not me. This is your party, right, honey?" He glanced at his
wife, who scowled back at him. "Now, Dee, surely you don't intend for me
to—"

"Are you going to be the only one
who lets those lovely girls down?" Deirdre demanded, seeming to swell with
indignation.

"Yes, will you be a cad?" Luc
quizzed.

"Quiet, Lucas." Ted shot his
now chuckling brother-in-law a dirty look. "Dee, listen to me. Boys, quiet
down. Dee
..."
His voice trailed
off as he followed his wife back into the living room.

"Come inside and have some tea,
dear," Luc's mother offered serenely. "We're just having a quiet
evening at home. Hildebrand and George have joined us, but no one else will
come until tomorrow night." She smiled at Misty and took her arm.