The Seventh Night (22 page)

“Do you think people are wondering what happened to us?” I asked suddenly.

“I don’t much think anyone’s wondering….” he murmured drowsily, tracing indolent circles on my back with his fingertip.

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That they know about us.”

“Why should I mind?” he asked in surprise. “We’re both free. Now.”

Something in the way he said “now” made me pull back so that I could look at him. He was staring with a brooding frown into the moonlit room. His arm was still around me, but for some reason I sensed a distance between us, a chasm I didn’t understand.

I drew even further away from him. “Is something wrong?” I couldn’t help the tiny chill of fear that crept around my heart.

Reid looked at me for a moment, his gaze hooded. Then he said slowly, “I think it’s time we talked about him.”

“Him?”

“Your husband.
Danny.
”

“
Now?
You want to talk about him
now?
” Talk about lousy timing. “Reid, couldn’t this wait?”

“No. I don’t think it can.” His chin and jaw were set in stubborn, resolute lines. He looked at me, then glanced away as his arm dropped from around me. Rising
from bed, he picked up his pants from the floor and drew them on, then stood at the window, staring out.

I had no idea what had caused his sudden mood swing. Shivering with cold, I slipped beneath the covers and huddled there, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, I finally blurted, “Exactly what is it you want to know?”

“Everything. I want to know everything.” Slowly he turned to face me. “Starting with why you married him so quickly after I left Chicago. I want to know why you didn’t wait.”

My heart skipped a beat. “
Wait?
I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

My hands flew to my face. My heart was tripping all over the place. “But I thought…”

“Thought what? You knew there was something between us. You had to have known. What did you think all those looks were about?”

“But it was just one week…we saw each other so briefly. I thought you were…I don’t know…mildly amused by me. There was no reason why I should think that you felt about me the way—”

One dark brow shot up. “The way you felt about me? I thought you’d never admit it,” he said grimly. His fingers raked through his dark hair. “I tried to tell you then, but we were hardly ever alone. And when we were, you were so damned distant, like you were afraid of me. When Christopher was with us, I didn’t exactly feel I should be putting the moves on his young daughter. So I didn’t say anything. But you
knew,
Christine. We both knew.”

“Yes,” I whispered, still hiding beneath the covers.

“Then why in the hell did you marry someone else?” he said angrily. “I was coming back to Chicago in a few weeks. You knew that.”

“You were coming back? But why?”

“Why do you think?” he asked bitterly. “I wanted to see you again. I wanted to make sure that what I suspected about us was true.” He stopped and glared at me. “Christopher called you from the airport the morning we left. Do you remember? I asked him to tell you that I would be back in a few weeks, that I wanted to see you. Am I to take it he didn’t relay that message?”

“He didn’t even mention you,” I said miserably. “I thought you’d left without even saying goodbye.”

“I see.” He came back and sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes intense. “I didn’t say goodbye because I had every intention of returning. In his own way, I suppose Christopher was trying to protect you. Six weeks later he told me you’d gotten married. Six lousy weeks. Why, Christine? For God’s sake, why?”

“Because I wanted to forget you,” I said simply. “You frightened me.”

“Frightened you? Because I was interested in you?”

“Because…because I thought you weren’t,” I said. “Because I thought you couldn’t be. You were so much older, more sophisticated and…worldly. Danny was my own age. We had similar backgrounds. We’d been dating for several months when I met you, and he’d already asked me to marry him. He asked me again after you left, and I was so confused. I thought it was the right thing to do. He was kind and sensitive, and he wanted to take care of me.”

“
I
would have taken care of you, if that’s what you wanted, needed. Damn it, you were mine, Christine. You let him touch you and you were mine.”

“Reid—”

“Does that sound crazy?” he asked. “Macho? Chauvinistic?”

It was all of those things, and I loved it. To think that he had cared about me, wanted me all those years ago. It was too good to be true.

“That was ten years ago,” I said softly.

“And the attraction has only gotten stronger,” he said. “Do you feel it, too?”

“My God, can you doubt it? But what does my marriage matter now? It was all so long ago and it was such a mistake. I never loved him, not like—” I looked away and then finished softly, “In time, he came to realize I didn’t love him, and it broke his heart.”

“Like you broke mine?” he asked coldly. “Why does that surprise you? Do you think I’m incapable of pain? Of being hurt? I can assure you, Christine, I’m only human.”

Only human? I somehow doubted that. He seemed so much stronger, so much more invincible than a mere mortal like myself. He would control destinies—not be a victim of fate. Or poor judgment.

“If you really felt that strongly, why didn’t you come to see me after Danny was killed? Why didn’t you call me? In ten years, Reid, you never once tried to get in touch with me.”

“It was too late by then, you see. I couldn’t risk it. Didn’t dare.”

The St. Pierre pride, I thought, with my own stab of bitterness. “I had to let you come to me,” he said, almost in defense.

“And so I did.”

He smiled then, the coldness melting away from his eyes as he reached for me again. “God, Christine,” he whispered desperately. “What took you so long?”

* * *

Later, we drove up the mountain with the top down on Reid’s car—something I had never done before. It was wonderful. The exhilaration of the wind whipping through my hair. The freedom of having nothing but the stars overhead. And the thrill of having Reid’s hand so possessively caressing my leg.

It was truly a night of wonder and magic. A night of
discoveries that would change my life forever. A night I would live over and over again in memory…

The house was dark when we pulled into the drive, but it was so very late I assumed everyone had long since arrived home and turned in. And now we were home.

Home.
What a glorious word. What a whole new meaning it had. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I actually belonged someplace…and to someone.

Our eyes met in the moonlight, and we shared a smile.

Oh, the intimacy of such an innocent gesture! The utter thrill of something so simple as having Reid walk me to my door, of having him linger—as if he, too, hated to see the night end.

We stood on the veranda sharing long, deep, intensely satisfying kisses. When I tried to pull away, he wrapped his arms even more securely around me.

“Just one more,” he murmured.

“You said that ten minutes ago. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care?” His lips moved in my hair. “It’s not even dawn yet. We’ve hours of darkness left.”

The low, seductive way he said
darkness
made the word take on a whole new connotation. I shivered against him.

“See? You’ve gotten cold again. Why don’t we go inside and…talk for a while?”

“Do you really want to talk?” I asked with assumed innocence.

“Actually…I’d rather dance.”

“There’s no music.”

I’d hardly gotten the words out when the distant sound of drums echoed through the woods.

“There’s our music,” Reid whispered. “Can you feel the rhythm?”

Oh, God, I could! The pulsing, driving, relentless beat
pounded through my veins. Reid’s gaze was hot, incredibly arousing. Mist from the woods swirled around us, entwining us in a cool web of intimacy that was a fine counterpoint to the heat throbbing between us. I felt breathless and desperate.

“Sometimes I think you really are a magician,” I whispered in a ragged voice. “You can make things happen by will.”

“How right you are,” he said enigmatically, his eyes like blue flames in the moonlight. “I made you come to me, didn’t I?”

“Why don’t you make me do it again?” I whispered in a tone I hardly recognized as my own.

“What?”

“Come…to you.”

I’m not even sure how we made it into the guest house after that. I remember pausing at the door, Reid backing me up against the wall as he kissed me until the blood surging through me was so hot, my skin tingled with it. He pressed us together, and nothing was left to the imagination. His hips moved against mine, the suggestion so intense I wanted to curl myself around him.

We stopped again just inside the door. The zipper of my dress was familiar territory by now. If possible, it took even less effort this time. The misty fabric fell to the floor with a seductive whisper, and I stepped out of it. Reid’s jacket came next, then his tie and shirt, both ripped aside and tossed away like so much worthless trash.

“If we’d stayed naked, we could have saved ourselves a lot of time,” Reid muttered.

“Yes, but I’m finding the undressing is worth the effort.”

He kissed me, long and hard on the mouth. “You could be right,” he murmured, pushing me back on the stairs while he unfastened my stockings yet again. The silky fabric slid down my legs like a hot, summer breeze.
His fingers followed the path all the way down, then back up again. His mouth explored my ankles, the back of my knee, and upward…slowly…oh, so slowly…and so deliberately and so…thoroughly.

My fingers ripped through his hair, tugging him upward until he was positioned over me, his eyes gleaming down at me.

“You’re mine now, Christine,” he commanded. “I want to hear you say it.”

It was true. I was his. I’d always been his, but something held me back from total submission. Something in his eyes, a mysterious darkness I still didn’t understand.

His hands were on my breasts, teasing me to even greater heights as his body slid against mine. “Say it,” he whispered.

The sound of the drums grew louder, more insistent. The deep, measured beats vibrated all the way through me, tearing away all the layers of protection to my soul.

I was exposed. Compromised.

And yet, as I looked up into Reid’s eyes, thrill after thrill raced through me. I shuddered against him.

“Say it,” he breathed against my lips, an entreaty so powerful I had no will to resist.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, and his eyes glinted with triumph just before his mouth claimed mine.

Then he picked me up, settling my legs around his waist as he took me the rest of the way up the stairs.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Sixth Day

S
omething awakened me.

A draft of wind, like a cold hand, crept over me. My skin crawled from the death touch. I tried to move away, but it followed me, clutching at me, snatching me from the warmth of my dreams and plunging me into stark reality.

Someone was calling me.

An entreaty so powerful, my battered will seemed to have no resistence at all.

Christine. Only you can help me.

“Why me?” I whispered desperately into the darkness. “Dear God, why me?”

Because we are of the same blood.

A fist of fear curled inside me. I put my hands to my ears, trying to blot out the plea, the truth, but it was no use. I knew now with certainty what I had been trying to deny for days.

It was my father who was calling to me. It was my father who needed my help. It was my father who had brought me here from Chicago.

Like now, his appeal had reached across the ocean, the miles of land between us, to pluck me from my nice, safe little life and plunge me into a world so dark and dangerous, I didn’t know what to believe, who to trust. I didn’t know what to do.

In the murky light of the moon, I sat up in bed and
gazed around the bedroom. The room was chilled, eerie. The echoes of passion had long since faded away.

And Reid was gone, slipped away like a thief in the night. He had conquered my defenses, stolen my heart and my soul, then left me to face the cold terror of dawn alone. Left me to recall who I was and why I was here. Left me to deal with the awful reality of my father’s disappearance.

Left me to remember that this was the sixth day.

Christine!

Like a cold, dark echo, my father’s plea seeped through me.

Help me!

I rose from bed, no longer floating on a dream, but wide awake. I was attuned to every nuance of the night. Outside my window the dry leaves of the almond tree clicked together in the breeze. The sweet, heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine clung to the air like honey. The moon, barely topping the trees, looked hazy and indistinct in the mist. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called to its mate. The sound was plaintive, lonely. It made me even more aware of my own despair.

Reid, where are you? Why did you leave me? Why aren’t you here when I need you?

I gazed out into the darkness, my heart throbbing in pain and in fear.

That was when I saw it—the white-robed ghost that haunted my dreams. My father….

He was at the edge of the forest, just as I knew he would be.

As I watched him, one arm lifted and he beckoned to me. The white robe billowed in the breeze. The hood obscured his face, but I knew it was my father—or, at least, what remained of him. His spirit, his
ti bon ange,
his soul wandering the night, seeking help.

A long, white nightgown was draped across a wicker chair near the window. I’d laid it out earlier, before I’d
left for the ball. I drew it on now, letting the cotton fabric slip over me as I left the room and ran down the stairs.

Outside the breeze whipped through my hair and tangled the gown around my legs as I ran toward the woods. My face was damp with mist. The fog, like long, cold fingers, curled around me, drawing me deeper and deeper into the forest.