No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 (20 page)

“Damned vixen,” he said, rubbing the water from his face with one hand. “What the hell did you go and do that for?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, trying to ignore the heat that radiated from his body to her own, through the cold wet linen of his shirt, through the cold wet cotton of her shift, all the way to her skin. The sensitive erect nubs of her nipples pressed against his hard chest, and she knew he must feel them as surely as she felt the rapid pounding of his heart.

“Ali,” he whispered hoarsely. “You can’t marry—”

“Don’t you dare mention Matthew’s name,” she hissed furiously, shoving at him again and scrambling up the bank.

It took him four easy strides to reach her. “Oh, no. No,” he said, his breath coming fiercely as he caught at her arm and pulled her around to face him. “You’re not running away. Not again. Not now. We’re going to have this out.”

“What?” she said on a sob. “What more is there to say? You think I’m a scheming child who wants nothing more than the empty promise of a title.” She pushed the dripping strands of her hair out of her face. “Well, you’re wrong, Andre, on both those counts. I’m not a scheming child, and a title means nothing to me. Nothing.”

“And you expect me to believe that after the way you’ve been behaving?” he asked, grasping her arms tightly.

“Yes,” she said, tears starting to her eyes.

“For the love of God, how can I? What else have you given me to go on?”

“How can you so easily forget what you and I always were together?” she asked brokenly.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s the problem. I haven’t forgotten. Not one blasted minute. And I never thought it possible for anyone to change so much.”

“But I haven’t changed,” Ali said desperately, her heart feeling as if he had just bruised it. “You only want to think I have, and God help me, I don’t know why. Do you object to the fact that Matthew wants me when you don’t? Or that I learned to speak English? Or even that I finally grew breasts?”

“Don’t be a bloody idiot,” he said, giving her a hard shake. “Can’t you see what’s happened to you? Or have five years in England really done so much damage?”

Ali shook her head. She pulled free and turned her back, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to spill over. “I don’t know any longer what you want, what you expect me to be,” she said in a muffled voice, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Will you please stop turning away?” he said, twisting her to face him. “I don’t intend to have a conversation with your back. Actually, it’s very simple. I only want you to be yourself, not a duplicate of everyone else.”

“But I am not like everyone else!” she cried. “Just because I wear European clothes and know how to waltz and can eat with a knife and fork…”

And in that moment a conversation she’d had with Andre’s father years before in this very spot floated into her mind.

Are you any different if I call you Alexis instead of Ali?
I
don’t mean on the outside, but on the inside where it counts?

And later that same night, also here, she had finally come to peace with herself and the destiny that God had chosen for her.

It all became crystal clear. She hadn’t been wrong. Her future with Andre hadn’t all been a childish dream. But it had been a dream that couldn’t be realized until she’d truly become a woman and understood what that meant. She knew now what it was to hurt as a woman, and she knew now that she could love as a woman, as Andre needed to be loved if he was ever to heal.

She understood that God was giving her this one chance to realize their destiny for both of them. She’d been wrong about Andre not caring. He cared very much. All it took was looking into his stormy face to see that.

Judging by his behavior tonight he realized perfectly well that she was no child. And that was good. Because she knew exactly what she had to do, and she was going to do it with every last shred of love she had. She didn’t give two figs whether it suited propriety or not.

She summoned up her courage, then reached down and grabbed the hem of her wet shift, pulling it over her head. She tossed it on the ground and stood before Andre as she had once stood before Allah.

“Ali,” Andre said, staring at her in disbelief. “What in the name of God do you think you’re doing?”

“I am showing you what I am,” she said, her voice shaking. “And what I am has nothing to do with the clothes I wear on my back, or the language I speak, or even the people who gave me life. If you cannot understand that, Andre, then you will never understand me.” She bowed her head. “And I will have loved wrongly.”

Andre passed a hand over his face as a sharp pain stabbed through him. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t know what love was. He wanted to tell her to put her clothes back on, that he was on the verge of doing something outrageous. But the words wouldn’t come.

She stepped up to him and took his face between her small hands, her touch burning into him, her wide dark eyes looking into his, not with anger or artifice but with honesty. Her touch nearly undid him, but her eyes—oh, her eyes—they inflicted far worse damage. “Ali,” he said, his voice choked. “Ali…”

“Yes,” she said. “It is me, Ali. I didn’t go away, or change into someone else. I only became a woman. Was that really such a crime?”

Andre groaned and lowered her hands from his face. “Please, don’t do this to me. I’m only a man, for God’s sake.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And that is how I want you.”

He couldn’t help himself. He crushed her to him, taking her mouth again, this time not in anger but in need. He played with her lips, brushing her own back and forth against them, stroking them with his tongue, opening her mouth to his and tasting her sweetness.

This time he took care with her, slowly building her response from a smolder into the full-furied blaze that he intuitively knew she was capable of, stoking it with his hands, his tongue, until Ali moaned low in her throat, the sound of her pleasure alone making his heart pound so hard that it hurt nearly as much as his groin.

Andre lifted her in one easy movement and carried her away from the bank, placing her on the mound of clothes he’d dropped. He stripped off his boots and his wet shirt, wondering how in hell he was going to manage to stay in control. He abandoned the question almost immediately as he saw how Ali watched him, her face flushed, her breasts rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat. She was so beautiful, so slight, so delicate … so desirable.

He lowered himself over her, his mouth claiming hers again. “Ali,” he whispered, already lost, his hands sliding up her soft thighs, over her slim hips, skimming over her smooth abdomen, his palms cupping her small ripe breasts, stroking and kneading, until her back arched under him and she whimpered. He dropped his head and he took one delicate pink nipple in his mouth, suckling it.

Ali cried out in a rush of pleasure, her hips pushing up against his erect penis. He shuddered at the contact, and her hand slipped down between their bodies to touch him through the material of his trousers. A fresh surge of desire coursed through him and he couldn’t help pushing up against her palm. It became unbearable as Ali traced the outline of his erection with her fingers.

“Wait,” he whispered, taking her hand away and rolling to one side. He stripped his trousers off and came back to her, but this time his hand reached low and slipped between the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs.

Ali moaned as he found her cleft and slid his fingers between the soft folds. God, but she was ready, slick and hot. Sweet, so sweet. His fingers stroked skillfully between her swollen female flesh, drawing a frenzied response from her, her breath hot on his cheeks, her whimpers soft in his ear. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, lifting her head to trace the delicate outline of her ear.

He honed in on the little nub of exquisitely sensitive tissue at the apex of her cleft and circled it with one finger. Ali gasped, her fingers clutching in his hair, and she lifted her pelvis, her thighs opening to him.

“Good,” he murmured, stretching her, and he pushed one finger inside her. “That’s so good. So wet, so tight.” He touched her at first shallowly, rhythmically sliding his finger in and out, and then he pushed deeper, gently rocking.

“Ohhhh!” she cried, lifting up against his hand, her entire body straining toward climax. He cupped her in his hand, his thumb lightly touching her erect nub as he pushed his finger into her.

Ali’s eyes squeezed shut and her head fell back, her back arching as she cried out, sharp little noises, her tight muscles throbbing convulsively. Andre thought he might just explode himself and he gritted his teeth, trying to keep that from happening.

But the minute he pulled his hand away, Ali’s slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, staying him. “No— no!” she whispered. “Don’t go. Oh, please?”

It broke the last slender hold he had on control. “Only for a second,” he managed to say, his head reeling with her impassioned response, all rationality fleeing in the face of his need and her pleas.

He quickly repositioned himself over her, guiding himself to her entrance, his tip spreading her wide with a steady pressure as he eased himself into her tight passage, waiting for a moment for her body to adjust to him. God, she felt unbearably good. He couldn’t ever remember any woman feeling quite this right. It was as if she’d been made for him.

He thrust his hips forward, sheathing himself in her. Ali sucked in a sudden breath, clutching on to his shoulders, then released it in a long moan. “Andre,” she breathed. “Andre.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, trying to calm himself. Then he began to move in her, at first slowly, long smooth strokes, pulling out of her nearly completely, easing back, taking his time, intent on pleasuring her. His hands smoothed back and forth over her hips, and he lifted up her knees, moving her closer to him as he gradually increased his rhythm, thrusting hard and fast. Ali met him stroke for stroke, her high little sobs echoing into the night.

“Ali. Ah, God,” he whispered, hardly able to catch his breath. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Ali had the ability to turn him inside out. The touch of her hands moving on his back, his shoulders, his buttocks, the soft heat of her mouth sweeping across his skin, inflamed him to even greater heights as his body moved in hers.

He wanted to bring her to another climax, but he couldn’t wait another moment. He rose up and pushed into her, hard, dimly hearing himself cry out as he exploded into her in gut-wrenching spasms.

And then, finally spent, he collapsed, his cheek pressed against her neck as his rough breathing gradually returned to normal. But as it did, so reason also returned, as chilling as a bucket of ice water thrown over him.

“Oh, dear God,” he said, lifting his head, horrified at the implications of the act they’d just indulged in. “What have I done?”

She stroked his face. “You don’t suppose you’ve made me a baby, do you?” she asked.

Andre groaned, his heart sinking about as far as it could go. A baby? He might well have. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing, nothing excused the mess he’d just made of things. “Ali, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—”

“Then you are very silly,” she said, lightly kissing his mouth. “Even I know what happened, and I’m only an ignorant female. Shall I explain it to you?”

He frowned, wondering how she could possibly be so blithely ignorant to the repercussions of their love-making. He was obviously going to have to explain some things to her. He opened his mouth, then realized he was still buried in her, extremely inappropriate under the circumstances. “You really haven’t changed, have you?” he said, slipping out of her.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you? Oh! What an odd sensation. I think I liked it much better the other way around.” She smiled up at him.

Andre rubbed his forehead, wondering how he’d managed to be so monumentally stupid. And then he saw the blood smearing her thighs and it only drove the situation home with more finality. “Do you have any sense of what we’ve just done?” he asked.

“Yes, of course I know what we’ve done,” she said. “We made love, and I am no longer a virgin.” Ali’s smile widened. “It was very wonderful, Andre. I don’t think you can call me a cold fish ever again.”

“Ali. Oh, Christ.” He sat up, running his hands through his hair. “This is no joke. You can’t marry Matthew, I’m afraid, not after this.”

“I can’t?” she said, looking not the least concerned.

“No. You can’t. I—um … I’m afraid you’re going to have to marry me.”

Ali’s eyes filled with a brilliance he’d never seen before, so radiant that it almost blinded him.

“I would be honored to marry you,” she said simply. “And it took you long enough to ask.”

A
ndre splashed cold water on his face, not looking forward in the least to going downstairs and facing Nicholas. How was he going to explain his sudden engagement to Ali? Say that he’d offered himself up in place of Matthew?

He couldn’t believe that his entire life had been turned upside down by one impulsive sexual act. He wasn’t even prone to that kind of behavior, sexual relief being something he regarded as one of the occasional necessities of life. Furthermore, he’d always been so cautious when he did indulge, taking care to avoid involvement, being equally careful to avoid any chance of leaving a child in his wake. And he avoided virgins like the plague.

Yet in one fell swoop, Ali had managed to undo the habits of his entire adult life. No, he amended. She had managed to undo his entire life, period.

He dried himself off with a towel and shrugged into a clean shirt, then gave his hair a quick brush. Better to get it over with now, before breakfast, he decided, since he didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. And he really didn’t think he could face Matthew over the table, not when he’d just compromised the woman Matthew had planned to marry.

“Idiot,” Andre muttered, pulling on his boots. “Fool.” And yet … he didn’t know what he was so upset about. He needed a wife. He hadn’t looked forward to finding one. Ali was conveniently there, and they’d always gotten along. Well … almost always. Last night was a shining example of Ali’s uncanny ability to get under his skin.

But that wasn’t all bad either, he thought with a faint smile as he pulled on his jacket. In a way it was an unexpected bonus. His impassioned response to her had certainly come as a surprise, as had the ease with which he’d held her afterward, quietly questioning her about what had happened in the years since he’d sent her away, listening with pleasure to her relaxed, amusing replies. Yes. Ali was comfortable, he decided, rather like the fit of an old shoe. So why not?

Still, there was always the possibility that Nicholas might not approve of this match, either, not that there was much Nicholas could do. If Andre had to confess, he would, and he could only hope that Nicholas wouldn’t put a gun to his head.

He was offering Ali a duchy, after all. Andre shook his head with amusement as that facet of the situation occurred to him for the first time. Ali, a duchess. Now there was an extraordinary concept.

Andre gave a snort of laughter, and headed down to the library.

“Ah, good morning, Andre,” Nicholas said, putting down his pen as Andre came into the room. “Please sit down. I assume you’ve come to report on your conversation with Ali last night? Did you have any success?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Andre said, taking the chair opposite the desk.

“Oh? Well, did you dissuade her from marrying Matthew?”

“I did,” Andre replied.

“Good. Excellent. I’m delighted to hear it, although Matthew’s bound to be unhappy about it. Never mind, it’s for the best. Georgia will be so pleased.”

“I’ll be pleased about what?” Georgia said, coming into the room. “Good morning, Andre.” She examined his face a little too carefully for his liking. “You’re looking tired. Did you not sleep well?”

He stood out of courtesy. “Actually, I slept like a log,” he said. It was true. He’d slept better than he had in a month. His only problem was that he hadn’t gone to bed until four hours before.

“I’m so pleased. The heat doesn’t make it easy,” Georgia said. “I myself had a terrible time sleeping last night, but I suppose it’s old age. Please, sit. Coffee?”

“Thank you,” Andre said, not entirely comfortable. There was an undercurrent to Georgia’s words that made him uneasy. He took his chair again, but he watched Georgia carefully.

She stirred the sugar into his cup as he liked it, and handed it to him as casually as if it hadn’t been eight years since the last time she’d done it.

“Thank you,” he said, regarding her with the faintest degree of suspicion. He
knew
Ali was sound asleep. He’d checked with the footman. And he knew Ali had gone straight to bed, since he’d seen her to her door. He dismissed his concern. Ali couldn’t have told Georgia anything. He was just on edge, he decided.

“So,” Georgia said, pouring her own cup. “What is it that I am to be pleased about?” she repeated.

“Fortunately,” Nicholas said in a satisfied tone, “Ali has decided against marrying Matthew. Andre successfully convinced her that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Oh?” Georgia asked with an arched eyebrow. “And how did you manage that?”

“I … well,” he said, deciding to face the matter straight on, bracing himself for the explosion. “The truth is that I persuaded her to marry me instead.”

Nicholas’s mouth dropped open. Georgia simply nodded. “Wise, I think,” she said calmly.

Andre couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe that it was that easy, but he was damned if he was going to tip his hand and let them see his astonishment.

“Yes,” he said, equally calmly. “I think it’s a good solution. As you pointed out to me yesterday, Ali really is my responsibility, and I’ve neglected it far too long, leaving her to you. It is time that I take her off your hands.”

“Mmm,” Georgia said. “It does make sense that you should do that. So. You wish to marry Ali.”

“I do,” he said, to his surprise meaning it.

“Soon?” she asked.

“Soon enough,” he said. “I see no reason for a lengthy engagement. Can it be arranged within, say, a month?”

“A month?” Nicholas said, frowning. “Isn’t that a little hasty?”

“Oh, no,” Georgia said quickly. “Why wait? I can make all the arrangements easily enough. All you have to do, Nicholas, is write away for a civil license. Both Ali and Andre are Catholic, so that’s simple enough. You do plan on being married within the church, Andre?”

“I—well, yes, I suppose,” he said, not having considered this aspect. “I suppose it’s a hypocritical on my part, but I’d like to make the marriage appear as correct as possible.”

“Why wouldn’t it appear to be correct?” Nicholas asked, puzzled.

A faint sweat broke out on Andre’s brow. “Well, people assume that we only met that one time at the Umbersville ball,” he said. “They might wonder why we—why I … The marriage might appear precipitous, and naturally I don’t wish for the matter of Ali’s past to come out,” he said, trying very hard to keep a composed demeanor. “I don’t want to subject her to a scandal,” he finished, feeling ridiculous.

“But there’s no reason why your work shouldn’t create a middle ground,” Nicholas said reasonably. “Ali is Frederick Lacey’s daughter, after all, and anyone who would be interested in that sort of thing would know how much you admired Lacey.”

“Yes,” Andre said thoughtfully. “That’s true.”

“And on top of that,” Nicholas continued, “I am your godfather and Ali is my ward. Neither of those facts is secret. Why should you not have met again here and made a match of it?”

“Why not indeed?” Georgia said, looking at him over the rim of her cup. “But tell me, Andre. Despite all of this talk about responsibility, do you, in fact, love Ali?”

Andre froze. Love? That was a word that didn’t even enter into the equation. It couldn’t. It never would again, and Georgia ought to damn well know better than to ask.

“Love her?” he said, meeting Georgia’s gaze squarely. “No. The truth of the matter is that I need to secure the succession. Ali and I ought to suit well enough, and I am fond of her. Or at least I was, and I’m sure I will be again.” God, he was making a hash of the thing.

“At least you’re honest,” Nicholas said. “Well. I hope she grows on you.”

Andre didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“Georgia and I have enjoyed a marriage filled with many years of love and happiness,” Nicholas continued, “even though we initially married for convenience rather than love. I have every reason to hope that you will find your way to the same happiness.”

“I assume that means you give us your blessing?” Andre asked, not wanting to delve any further into the subject. The way things were going, Genevieve’s name was going to pop up at any moment, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. He knew that the only way he was going to get through the situation at all was to be as matter-of-fact as possible, to treat it as a business arrangement, which was really what it was.

“Yes, you have our blessing,” Nicholas said, rising. “I have to admit, I’ll miss Ali, though. She’s given us years of pleasure, but I suppose we couldn’t expect to keep her forever.”

Georgia came over and kissed his cheek. “Make her happy,” she said. “It’s all I ask.”

“I will do my best,” he said. His fingers tightened around the handle of his cup. “I, ah … I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you both for all you’ve done for Ali. I—I was mistaken in what I said yesterday about your turning her into a travesty. You’ve done a fine job.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas said gravely, but his eyes held amusement. “I am pleased that you approve of our efforts.”

Oh, hell, as long as he was eating humble pie, Andre decided, he might as well go all the way. “I realize that you went far beyond the call of duty in looking after Ali for me, especially given the disagreement we had the last time we met.”

Nicholas idly picked the pen off his desk and toyed with it. “Oh, do you mean the time you damned us all to hell for caring enough to try to knock some sense into your head?”

Andre colored. “Perhaps I spoke too strongly,” he said in what he considered to be an enormous concession. “My argument is not with you. But please, let us leave it there, for I have no desire to argue with you again.”

Nicholas nodded. “Very well. We’ll consider it forgotten. I assume this means we won’t be seeing your parents at your wedding?”

Andre’s eyes glinted steel. “No, you will not. And the subject is closed.”

“Naturally,” Georgia said. “Well. I suppose I had better find Ali and start making arrangements. It will be nice to see her looking happy for a change.”

She placed her coffee cup on the tray near the window and took a moment to look out. “Do you know,” she said, her tone reflective, “I’ve always loved this view above all the others at Ravenswalk. There’s something about the stretch of lawn, the glimmer of the lake, that draws one’s gaze so compellingly, especially in the moonlight.”

Andre nearly dropped his cup.

Georgia turned and smiled at him. “Don’t you agree? But I suppose this is no time to be discussing the view. You and Nicholas probably want to go over the marriage settlements and so forth. I’ll see you both at lunchtime.”

Andre watched her go, feeling like an utter idiot.

Something loud penetrated the haze of Ali’s dream, and she rolled over and stuffed her pillow over her head, unwilling to be snatched away from Andre’s embrace. But it came again, persistent, and she realized that someone was knocking at her door. Her eyes flew open as she registered the position of the sun, already high in the sky.

“Oh!” she cried, horrified that she’d slept so late. She was an early riser by habit, and they were bound to think something was wrong. “Come in,” she called, quickly pulling her robe on.

“Good morning, darling,” Georgia said, entering with a tray. “I told the servants not to disturb you this morning, since you went to bed at such a late hour. I thought you might like some tea and toast.” She rested the tray on Ali’s lap.

“Thank you,” Ali said, wondering curiously how Georgia knew what time she’d gone to bed.

“So. Andre tells us that you have very generously agreed to marry him,” Georgia said, settling herself into the armchair near Ali’s bed.

Ali looked at her in alarm. “He did?” she said. “But I—that is…” She gulped. “Oh. Are you angry?”

Georgia laughed. “Not in the least. I think it’s wonderful. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Ali’s face lit up like sunshine. “Yes. Oh, yes,” she said, hugging the covers to her chest. “I can hardly believe it’s true.” But then she remembered Matthew, and her heart fell. “Does he know yet? Matthew, I mean?”

“No, darling. Not yet. That’s for you to tell him. But that’s not what I want to discuss with you.”

Ali’s gaze examined Georgia’s well-loved face, every line, every expression known to her. She knew that Georgia had something important on her mind, and she prepared herself to listen, for Georgia had never once given her bad advice.

“Ali…” she said, “Nicholas and I have said nothing about the unhappiness and confusion you’ve felt this last month. We wanted you to feel free to make your own choice.” Georgia measured her words carefully. “I believe that in choosing Andre, you’ve chosen wisely. But you haven’t chosen easily. Andre is a wonderful man, but he will be a challenge.”

Ali chewed on her lip. “I know,” she said. “And I also know that he doesn’t love me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Did he tell you so?”

“No, not in so many words,” Ali said. “But he didn’t have to. He still loves Genevieve and he doesn’t think he has room in his heart for anyone else.”

Georgia was silent for a long moment. Then she released a heavy sigh. “I hadn’t realized you knew about Genevieve.”

Ali nodded solemnly. “Yes. I have known about her from almost the beginning, although Andre never speaks of her, of course. She is his great tragedy.”

Georgia rubbed the side of her mouth. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Mmm,” Ali said, munching on a piece of toast. “You see,” she said through her mouthful, “I had a choice last night. I could either let Andre spend the rest of his life mourning his fairy-child, or I could give myself to him as Allah meant me to do. I thought it was far better to listen to Allah than to Andre.”

“I see,” Georgia said, looking away for a moment, the corners of her mouth trembling. “Well,” she said after a minute, “you’ve always had an interesting relationship with both God and Andre, and given the frame of mind Andre was in last night, I suspect you listened to the right party.”

Ali grinned. “Andre was very upset with me. I pushed him into the lake.”

“Did you?” Georgia said absently. “I’m sure he deserved it. Listen, my darling. I know that you love Andre very much and always have. I only want to be sure that you understand what you’re taking on.”