Symphony In Rapture (20 page)

“And these men…do they know you don’t age?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. I’m quite the medical secret, passed on from generation to generation. One surgeon recently brought in a geneticist. She’s the one who finally isolated the abnormal gene and confirmed that it was responsible for all these different things.”

“And the expense?” she asked.

“I’ve been alive for almost two hundred years, Michelle. I’m avery wealthy man. IfI can’t read the stock market or judge the soundness of a particular investment or business deal, no one can.”

Michelle listened raptly. If Nick was delusional, it was a very complex delusion. And if this was some kind of sick joke, the background was well-rehearsed. She found herself toying with the possibility that there might be some kind of truth to the whole thing. She couldn’t believe he was insane—in general, he functioned too normally. And she couldn’t believe he would be playing this kind of a joke on her—what would be the point? She mentally shook herself. She wasn’t actually falling for this, was she? “Nick. What does all this have to do withus ?”

He stared at her, eyes moist and bloodshot. “I don’t age, Michelle. I don’t know how long I’ll live this way. How can we spend our lives together, if—” He cut off abruptly.

“IfI’m getting old and gray, and you’re still young and virile,” Michelle finished dully.

“No.” Nick came to her again, kneeling by her side. “I love you, Michelle. Body and soul,” he said. “I don’t care how you look, how old you get, I’ll still want to be with you. But society will question it—”

Michelle’s thoughts roiled. This was all so unbelievable, but Nick’s voice held the ring of conviction. Of utter belief. She glanced over the pictures again—at the progression that made much more sense if they really were pictures of the same man. She allowed herself to meet Nick’s gaze. The anguish there shook her to the core, and the dark blaze of desire; but most of all, the love.

She offered her hand, and he took it. “Can I meet them, Nick? Your doctors? Will they confirm this…story?”

“Yes.” Nick kissed the back of her hand.

Good God, she thought.It’s true. If he were willing to let her meet his doctors, he couldn’t be lying, could he?

If it was true, then Nick was right. There were problems. Michelle winced at the picture brought to mind—of Nick’s young, smooth hands stroking a wrinkled, gray old lady. She thought about being seen in public with him, having people think he was her son—or worse, her grandson. Could she handle that? Could he? If it came to that, if either or both of them became miserable because of it, could she let him go? Let him move on with his unnaturally long life? She wasn’t sure. For that matter, it might not be left up to her. Forty years down the road, Nick might just up and leave—he wouldn’t have to have her permission. She didn’t think he would do that, but who could know how he would feel, married to a seventy-five-year-old, looking thirty-five. And he wasn’t an average-looking man, either. Not now. Women would be throwing themselves at him all his life.

Nick searched her face. “Are you beginning to see?”

Michelle nodded, desperately fighting tears. She reached out, stroking the golden hairs on the back of the hand grasping the arm of her chair. “Age isn’t an issue these days, Nick. If,” she swallowed. “If you really think you won’t mind remaining with me as I age, we can do this. We can find some secluded place—” She broke off as Nick started shaking his head. “Why?”

He cupped her face with his hands. “I know how much you want children, Michelle,” he said. “I—” He swallowed. “I’m sterile.”

Michelle stared dumbly. “What?”

“It’s another effect of the gene. My sperm don’t function properly. I’m sterile,” he repeated. “I won’t be able to give you any children.”

Despite herself, Michelle began to cry. In their last few weeks together, she had dreamed of having Nick’s child, perhaps even having more than one. She had dreamed of raising them—girls or boys, or both—in a loving home full of music and laughter. She missed Angela so much. It would have been nice to have another chance at a dream that included children.

But Nick was her reality, and Michelle didn’t want to lose him. Having children with anyone but Nick would be meaningless. If he couldn’t father any, there was no loss, not really. Just an elusive fragment of a dream that might never have existed anyway. Michelle wasn’t willing to give up the reality of a life with Nick for something she might never find with anyone else—wouldnever find with anyone else. Because she could admit now—after the failed experiment with Duncan, the only man she might have been able to grow to love—that Nick was the only man who could fill the void in her life. She would never be able to love another man the way she loved Nick.

Michelle pulled her hand from Nick’s grasp and wiped the tears away. She smiled, a trembling smile. “That’s perfect,” she said, “because I don’t want to share you.”

Nick started to protest, and she pressed a finger to his lips. “Just…let me back into your life, Nick. Let me meet your doctors. Promise me that you won’t give up on us until we’ve examined every possibility that might clear the way to our having a life together.”

“I don’t know, Michelle.” He brushed a stray lock from her cheek. “If we can’t figure something out, I’m not sure I can let go of you again.”

“Then don’t,” she whispered.

Michelle cupped Nick’s face with her hands. She leaned over. “There is no life for me, unless it is with you.” She kissed him softly, sharing the salty residue of tears.

Nick’s jaw muscles tightened, an artery in his temple throbbed against the tips of her fingers. Michelle deepened the kiss. Invaded Nick’s mouth with her tongue. He groaned, and she pulled away. “Promise me, Nick,” she whispered.

He hesitated, and she kissed her way to his ear, tickled his earlobe with her tongue. “Promise me,” she repeated.

He still refused to answer. Michelle unbuttoned her shirt, naked as a babe beneath the stiff cotton, and brought one of her nipples up with her hand, tracing Nick’s lip with the peak. “Promise me.”

Nick threaded his fingers through her hair. “I promise,” he groaned, then captured her breast with his mouth.

He grasped her by the waist, slid her down to the floor. He raised his head. “Mi fantaisie,” he breathed. He reached for the waistband of Michelle’s pants. Her hands were there before his, unfastening them, pushing them off. Nick stood and undressed rapidly.

“Come to me, lover,” she coaxed.

Nick straddled her, rubbing his erect manhood over her tummy. Michelle reached up and teased his nipples with her fingernails. “Mmmmm,” she murmured. “They get almost as hard as mine.” Then she took one in her mouth and sucked.

“God!” Nick exclaimed. He wanted to bury his cock in her, but if he moved, the sweet torture would end.

Michelle suckled first one, then the other of Nick’s breasts, knowing what he wanted, but making him wait until she was convinced she had brought his erect nipples to the fullest, most excruciating peak of arousal. Then she smiled up at him.

Nick penetrated her sweet cunt and Michelle wrapped her legs around him, surrounding his need with warmth and love. Obliterating the horrible emptiness of all his previous life with her unbridled passion.

When they had climaxed, he turned his attention toher breasts. He fondled her nipples, restoring them to hard, aching peaks. He bent and suckled first one, then the other. He glanced up at her, a possessive gleam in his eyes. “Whose breasts are these?” he asked.

Michelle smiled. “Yours.”

Nick squeezed her nipples, hard. “Whose?”

Michelle moaned. “Yours!” she insisted.

“Which one did Duncan touch?”

Michelle froze. “What did you say?”

Nick stammered. “I—uh, I—”

Michelle pushed him off her and stood. “What did you say?” Her voice shook with barely contained anger.

Nick could only stare at her helplessly.

“What do you know about me and Duncan?” she asked. When Nick didn’t answer, she sat on the floor and started pulling on her clothes. “Fine, damn it. I’ll go ask Duncan.”

Nick finally found his voice. “He was trying to help us,” he offered. “He told me he’d taken you out. That he’d… done certain things with you.”

Michelle stared at him, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“He wanted to make me mad. To make me admit I loved you.”

Michelle’s voice ground out between clenched teeth. “Are you telling me it wasn’t your idea to come to me?”

Nick shook his head, “No. I’m just saying—”

“You didn’t trust me with all this bullshit because you decided I could handle it!” she yelled. “You didn’t tell me because living without me was tearing you apart, the way it was me! You told me because you didn’t wantDuncan to have me!”

Nick bolted from the floor. “No! Living without youwas tearing me apart! I just thought you would have a better life without me, until Duncan told me how unhappy you were.”

If eyes could spit acid, then that’s what Michelle’s were doing as she buckled her pants and grabbed her purse. “You and Duncan! He had no right to tell you. You had no right—” she choked on the words. “Goddamn it I wish men would quit with the stupid, macho crap!”

Nick grabbed her arm. “Michelle, calm down. He wanted to make you happy.I want to make you happy—what’s so wrong with that?”

Michelle jerked her arm out of his grasp, glaring at him with tear-filled eyes. “This changes everything, Nick. It means that you never did find it in your heart to trust me. To just surrender yourself to my love. You had to be pushed into it. How could Duncan convince you our love was worthwhile, if I couldn’t? And Duncan,” her voice failed her. She stormed out the door, not even bothering to fasten her blouse. Nick hopped ungracefully in her wake, trying to pull on his pants as he followed her onto the landing. Horrified, he halted at the top of the stairs, observing a scene from one of his dreams. “Michelle!”

Half-blinded by tears, practically running, Michelle had lost her footing and was falling, tumbling head over heels down the long McMurtry staircase. At the bottom, fireworks exploded in her brain before a welcome oblivion came and swept all the pain away.

* * * * *

“Shit, Nick. How did this happen?” Duncan asked, staring in at Michelle through the small window in the door of the Intensive Care Unit.

Nick shook his head. “Stupid macho crap,” he said, echoing Michelle’s earlier words. “The idea of you touching her—it drove me crazy. I wanted to make her forget the feel of you. Erase any traces of you.”

“And—” Duncan prompted.

“And… I asked her which breast you touched.”

“Youwhat ?!”

“I know. It was stupid. All I can say is, I was in the throes of passion.” He threw up his hands helplessly. “She was furious. Angry with me, angry with you. She went running down the steps, and—” he choked on a sob.

Duncan tried to be mad at him, but couldn’t. The man was broken. Pale, trembling, eyes sunk in his head like a death’s skull. Duncan could easily believe that if Michelle didn’t make it, Nick wouldn’t either. He patted his rival’s shoulder awkwardly.

Nick’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I told her everything, Duncan. We were going to find some way to work it out.”

The door swung open, and Michelle’s doctor came out. “Mr. Duquaine?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Nick answered.

“She’s still unconscious. She suffered a severe concussion.” His face was grave. “At this point, we don’t know how much damage has been done.”

“Will she wake?” Nick asked.

The physician spread his hands. “I honestly don’t know.”

Nick stifled a sob. “Can I see her?”

The man nodded. He glanced toward Duncan. “Only one visitor at a time allowed in ICU,” he reminded them. Duncan nodded, and Nick pushed open the door and made his way to Michelle’s cubicle.

She looked like a child’s doll, tiny and pale, her head wrapped with white cotton. An IV line snaked into her arm, and small round sensors in various locations trailed colorful wires connected to a number of monitors.

Nick clasped her hand in his. Her fingers were limp, unresponsive. The tears finally spilled as he bent to kiss her cold lips. “Don’t give up on me,” he begged. “You were convinced about us from the start.” There was no answer, no response. “Come back to me, Mickey. I can’t do this without you. We’ll figure everything out. We’ll find a way.” Nick pulled a chair over to the bedside. Leaning over, he rested his head on the pillow beside Michelle’s ear, whispering hoarsely, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over.

* * * * *

Michelle was floating in a cold, dark place. A roaring sounded constantly in her head, and all she wanted was for that particular torment to stop. She wasn’t aware how long she existed in noisome oblivion before she noticed a susurration in the roaring surf. She concentrated, anxious to make out what the new sound was, sure that it was something important. Slowly, the cacophony began to fade into the background. Over what seemed like eons, the soft, rhythmic hissing resolved into separate syllables—a familiar, beloved voice whispering over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Michelle opened her eyes.

A bank of monitors greeted her. Wires, an IV bag. She turned her head slightly, ignoring the insistent pounding that caused, wanting to see him. To see Nick.

Nick felt the pillow shift beneath his cheek. He’d been whispering in Michelle’s ear all night, all morning, his voice nearly gone. Blearily, he sat up. His eyes snapped open as he realized Michelle was looking at him. He jumped up. “She’s awake!” he shouted. Michelle winced. A brigade of nurses and doctors descended on the bed, pushing him out of the way. Michelle reached out to him. He tried to push his way back. “Mr. Duquaine, please.” One of the nurses took his arm and steered him out of the room. “Just give us a few minutes to assess her, all right?” He nodded, watching the flurry of activity around the bed anxiously.

He glanced up and saw Penny and Duncan, peering in through the ICU window. He hurried over and opened the door. “She’s awake,” he said.

“Is she going to be all right?” Penny asked.