The Count From Wisconsin (13 page)

"I'm so glad you're not shy, Katy," he said, echoing her thoughts as he dosed the door behind them. "Because I can't take it slow and romantic. Not now. Not when I've been waiting so long for you."

"Two days?" she asked, giving him a slow smile.

"Not two days—thirty-seven years," he corrected softly. "All my life I've been waiting for you, Katy. I always knew you existed; I just didn't know where to find you." He inhaled a short, exuberant breath. "Oh, Duchess, I have so many things to show you."

"Oh?" she murmured, her brows raised as he stripped off his T-shirt.

"No," he said, laughing. "I mean other things. When I would come across a particularly spectacular view back in Wisconsin, I used to think, 'She should be here with me to see this.' " He gathered her close again. "I even bought you things. Do you think that's strange? When I would find something—a piece of porcelain or a pen-and-ink drawing—that was too exquisite to pass by, I would buy it and put it away, telling myself, This is for her.'"

"No," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't think that's strange. I think it's the loveliest thing I've ever heard." He had told her once that he wasn't romantic. Someday she would have to correct that misconception. Someday, but not now.

He tossed his T-shirt on a chair, then pulled her into his arms again as though he couldn't stay away even for the time it took to remove the rest of his clothes.

"You feel it, too, don't you, Katy?" he whispered hoarsely as he spread the lapels of the robe and ran his open hand over her taut nipples. "You feel the inevitability of it ... of us being together. Our bodies fit together the same way our minds do. Two pieces of a two-piece puzzle. We connect where we're supposed to connect."

She moaned and arched her upper body, needing to feel his hot flesh against hers. The rough hair of his chest abraded the sensitive tips of her breasts as she pushed closer and rubbed against him, sending a fiery streak of pleasure straight to her core.

Her robe had already slipped to the floor and together they somehow managed to remove the rest of his clothes before they walked to the bed. As she sat on the side of the bed, he undid her braid and she heard him moan deep in his throat as he pulled her back and wrapped her hair around them both.

Moments later, as he leaned over her and murmured softly, Alex touched every part of her body. Not with the sure, slick touch of a practiced lover, but as though he were discovering a new world.

The wonder and breathless joy she saw on his face were more exciting, more erotic than anything she had ever imagined and she reacted with the same open wonder as she ran her hands Over his hard male form.

It was only when the pleasure grew too intense for them to endure that they came together with a passionate fierceness, a piercing joy. His rough breathing and hoarsely spoken words of love brought her quickly to the place she sought with her arching hips. As he thrust deeply, she met the stroke and felt a blinding burst of uncontrollable pleasure that shook her body in waves. She dug her fingers into his back as she felt his body shudder in the grand frisson and knew that he had found his release too.

For long moments the silence was broken only by the harsh sound of their labored breath. Then, as though their joint physical release had brought about a similar release in their minds, they began to talk quietly, about life, about love, and about themselves, sharing things they had never shared with another human being.

The darkness was beginning to glow faintly in a prelude to dawn when they fell asleep with their weary bodies entwined.

Eight

Kate poked her head around the curtain and saw Alex relaxing on an elegant floral sofa In the salon of the dress shop they had entered thirty minutes earlier. Drawing in a final bracing breath, she thrust aside the curtain and stepped out into the room.

He didn't see her until she strolled in an exaggerated model's walk onto the show floor in front of him. Then he leaned back lazily, his fingers forming a peak as he rested his hands on his stomach.

She was dressed in deep emerald green satin knickers, a pale lilac gauzy blouse with voluminous sleeves, and a pert sequined green hat with a flirty little veil just barely covering her eyes. Except for the hat, she could have been one of the Three Musketeers.

Alex ran his eyes up and down her flamboyant costume, then murmured, "you've got to have it, Duchess."

Turning his head, he nodded to the attentive saleswoman standing behind him, but while his back was turned, Kate waved frantically at the woman, shaking her head in an emphatic negative motion.

They had already chosen her dress for this evening. It was a floor-length sheath of dusty green silk jersey that they had found in a little shop earlier. Its halter top had pearl buttons that ran from throat to waist, allowing the dress to be as demure or provocative as the wearer wished.

The dress and accessories were stored away in the trunk of the Renault. Alex had rented, along with the things he had purchased for himself. Now they were simply having fun.

Shopping in Paris was unlike anything she had ever experienced before and Kate knew the two of them were behaving like children in a toy store, but she didn't care. She had heard all her life that Paris was for lovers and today she and Alex were proving it.

She had never known a man who liked shopping, but Alex liked hats . . . any kind of hat. And he liked to watch as Kate tried them on. So she had tried on hats. Dozens of hats. She had tried on enough hats to last her a lifetime. Hats that looked like flying saucers with brims big enough to shade the whole town of Plum, and hats as small as teacups. She had tried on feathered hats and beaded hats, outrageous hats and demure hats.

And she had posed and postured before a laughing Alex who had urged her to buy everything she tried on. After a while she realized It was a losing battle and stopped arguing with him, simply canceling his orders when his back was turned, as she had just done.

As soon as she had changed, she rushed him out of the shop before he could discover that she had canceled the order for the knickers. She had bought enough casual clothes to last her a couple of days and she refused to let him spend his money on her.

He found it hard to understand why she wouldn't accept his gifts as naturally as she accepted his body and his friendship, but she had been paying her own way for a long time and remained steadfast in her refusal.

And remaining steadfast with Alex was not an easy task, she thought later that evening as she dressed for Sauset's party. When he gazed down at her with loving eyes, everything solid in her body turned to liquid.

She smiled as she thought of the way he had looked that morning when he woke to find her leaning over him, studying his features. The look on his face was the most touching thing she had ever seen. As incongruous as it sounded, there had been an innocence about the look he had given her, like a child who had just seen his first bluebird. And as she stared down at him, her heart had almost burst with love.

Oh, yes, she loved him. She had known that even before they made love. Somewhere on their wild trip from Monte Carlo, somewhere on that ridiculous motorcycle or on a pile of hay, she had fallen deeply, irrevocably, in love and the wonder of it filled her completely.

She stared at her sparkling eyes in the mirror of Pete's bathroom and smiled slowly, then began to put the last touches of makeup on her face. She fingered one of the wispy curls that lay against her face, setting off the Gibson Girl look that had been adapted for her long hair, then shook her head and began to apply a beige, almost invisible lipstick.

Giving her hair a final pat, she picked up her evening bag and stepped out of the dressing-room, then stopped abruptly as Alex turned around. It was the first time she had ever seen him in evening dress and the sight took her breath away.

The noble savage, she thought as her eyes roamed hungrily over his now familiar lines.

"You're gorgeous," she said, then her gaze returned to his face, and the look in his eyes as he stared at her pulled her across the room and \ into his arms.

"Men aren't gorgeous," he said huskily. "I'm only breathtakingly handsome; you're gorgeous." He dipped his head to kiss her and she had no chance to answer as the kiss took every thought from her head.

"We really have to go to this thing, don't we?" he murmured a few minutes later against her throat while his fingers kneaded her buttocks and pressed her close.

"Uh-huh." Her reply came out in a breathless whisper and she felt his hands tighten their hold.

He inhaled roughly. "Okay, the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can come back here." He grasped her arm and began to urge her toward the living room. "Come on," he said grimly. "Let's get on with it."

He stopped suddenly by the front door and pulled something from his coat pocket, extending it toward her.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing down at the thin black cylinder.

"It's a penlight."

"Sure it is." She took it from him and stood for a moment staring at it in bewilderment. "Alex, do I want to know why I need a penlight at a party?"

He laughed at her wary tone. "Just in case we get a chance to do some sleuthing."

"Sleuthing?" she murmured. Then excitement began to grow in her brown eyes. "You mean I get to help?"

He pulled her to his side and moved across the room to the front door, his arm thrown around her shoulders. "You've been with me since the beginning of this chase," he said, his fingers pressing into her side as he spoke. "I figured you'd want to be in at the kill."

"Never say kill to a coward," she said, pushing her face against his pleated silk shirt "Actually," she added, pulling back to stare at him, "I guess it's a kind of compliment that you trust me enough to let me help you."

He smiled. Then as they walked through the door, he said softly, "I would trust you with my life, Duchess, without a minute's hesitation."

When they were settled in the rented Renault, she placed the slender flashlight in the bottom of her bag, checking carefully to make sure there were no suspicious bulges. She tried to think of the evening ahead, but his last words kept echoing in her mind.

He trusted her. With his life he trusted her. This was the relationship that she had been dreading, she realized with surprise. She depended on another human being for her happiness . . . and more—she was willing to do anything in her power to make him happy. '

She smiled, unconcerned that all of Evan's predictions had come true. She would have to bring Heather's husband a gift when she saw him. Because he had been right. Alex had given her more

than anyone in her life and, in return, she could hold back nothing from him.

Moments later, Kate glanced out the window and realized with' surprise that they had arrived at the chateau. She smoothed down her dress nervously as Alex pulled the rented car into the long driveway.

She hadn't been at all nervous when they had shopped for evening clothes, or even when she had been carefully applying her makeup. But now that they had actually arrived at their destination, butterflies were fluttering frantically in her ».. stomach.

When they entered the large, marble-tiled entry hall she felt as though everyone present were staring at the faint crease at the bottom of the little gold purse.

The chateau might have been small compared to the ones in the Loire Valley, but to her it looked like the real thing. It was filled with furniture she had only seen in books and museums and had wall hangings as big as her cabin in Plum, rising all the way to the second floor. She would have loved to stop and examine the smaller, more intricate tapestries, but she kept her mind firmly on why she and Alex were attending this party.

They walked through a doorway and the low roar of voices and music washed over them in oscillating waves. The grand salon of the chateau was full to overflowing, and Kate smiled at everything that moved in an attempt to act naturally.

Alex cast his eyes around the room, searching for Sauset, but in the press of wall-to-wall flesh it was impossible to find an individual one wanted to find.

He glanced down at Kate. Lord, she was lovely. Almost as lovely as she had been when he had awakened that morning. For a moment he thought he had dreamed her, but only for a moment. The warm flesh pressing against his had convinced him that she was real.

He shook his head, forcing his mind back to the business at hand. "Duchess," he said, leaning down so she could hear him. "I'm going to search for our host. Stay right here by this wall hanging so I can find you when I come back."

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" she asked dryly, gazing up at him.

Alex smiled. She sounded nervous. "What do you usually do at a party? You laugh at stupid jokes and admire ostentatious jewelry. You discuss in minute detail the latest diet and the 'in' malady and this month's favorite ski resort. . . . What are you looking for?" he asked as she opened her bag and began to peer inside.

"A pad and pencil," she said dryly. "I think I'd better take notes."

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the nose. "Just be yourself. I won't be gone long."

He moved slowly through the clusters of people, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see how Kate was doing. He hadn't gotten very far before he saw her being cornered by a couturier he had met several times.

He stifled a grin. Poor Kate. The man was one of the world's greatest bores.

Shifting his gaze forward again, he stiffened when he saw Sauset at the center of a group of people on his right. He, headed in that direction and could tell the minute his host spotted him. Sauset's features became harsh for a split second before he smiled in delight.

"Alexandre," he said heartily, extending his hand as Alex drew nearer. "So glad you could make it. It's a pleasure seeing you again."

He began introducing the newcomer to the guests around him, and, through half-closed eyes, Alex observed him closely. Sauset was agitated about something; that much was obvious. There was something feverish in his attempted heartiness.

"You're looking well, Charles," Alex said when there was a break in the conversation.

"And you, Alex. Or perhaps I should say Comte de Nuit," he returned. "You're even browner than you were in university. I always thought you looked a little barbaric." He laughed as though it were a great joke. "But it was a barbarism that certainly didn't hurt your popularity with the opposite sex." He glanced around curiously. "I thought you were bringing a friend. Surely you didn't come alone?"

"No," he said, watching a faint sheen of perspiration form on Sauset's forehead as he continued to stare at him. "I came with a very special lady. She's waiting across the room for me."

"But you should bring her over," he enthused. "I must meet this special lady."

Nodding stiffly, Alex moved away. When the crowd closed around him, he stopped beside a potted palm and turned to watch Sauset. What did he have against Tony? Why was he determined to make him suffer? Alex cast his mind back over their school days, but couldn't find a clue to what was happening now. As far as he knew, Charles had never even met Helene. So why now was he digging up such a sad episode from the past?

Kate moved slowly through the laughing crowd, her eyes scanning the room continuously. She hoped she hadn't missed Alex somewhere along the way, but she had no intention of spending the evening in conversation with a barnacle.

Suddenly she spotted him and moved quickly to the other side of the palm. Parting the branches, she leaned closer and said huskily, "Hiya, sailor. Got a match?"

Alex jerked his head around and smiled at her through the palm leaves. "Hello, Duchess," he said, reaching through to pull her around next to him. "I was just coming to get you."

"Yes, I can see you were," she murmured sourly. "I must say, it's about time," she whispered, giving him a vengeful look. "Skulduggery I was prepared for, but you didn't tell me I would be bored to death."

"Bored?" he asked, raising one heavy eyebrow. "But Mario is a renowned wit."

"The man is monosyllabic," she insisted dryly. "My eyes kept crossing." She glanced up at him. "So what did you find out? Do you think Sauset is the one?"

"I didn't find out anything," he murmured. "But yes, I think it's he. He wants to meet you."

"Should I be flattered?" she asked as they began to make their way back across the room, then she smiled up at him. "I did some investigating while you were gone."

"Did you?" He glanced down at her in inquiry. "What did you find out?"

"I found out that I definitely can't speak French, Italian, or Swahili. I tried to question the maid, but she kept directing me to the ladies' room. And there's a very regal-looking black man over there who spent ten minutes looking at me like I was something in a petri dish . . . makes me wonder what I asked him," she added wryly.