Touch the Stars (20 page)

"I love you, too, Juliana. And you will never be sorry that you love me." Softly he caressed the tender spot at the nape of her neck; slowly he felt her relax against him.

Now that they had established this truth, everything else would fall into place. If he trod carefully, if he kept his eye on the goal, if he proceeded with utter confidence, he could make Juliana see that a life together was the only thing that mattered.

Such a task was not, Stephen reflected, unlike walking a tightrope.

Chapter 11

There was no need to discuss it. They knew each other's minds as well as they knew each other's hearts. On this night, they would be together.

"Juliana—are you sure?" Stephen asked her when they were in his room, the door shut between them and the rest of the family. His hands massaged her upper arms gently.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm sure."

"What about Eva? Aren't you roommates?"

"Eva's probably asleep," Julie said. "She won't miss me."

"The others?"

"No one will know, Stephen, unless we want them to know."

He accepted this. "I would like that," he said slowly. "I hope we will soon tell them that you'll be my wife."

"I can't promise," Julie said. "You know I can't."

"Ah, then we must cherish this night all the more," he said, drawing her close. "It must be special."

"It already is," she said.

He noticed the tightness in her voice. "Are you nervous?" he asked. "Or worried?" His eyes shone with concern.

"Maybe a little." There was no point in lying to him; he'd know.

"Don't be," he said. "There is no need."

His hands caressed her shoulders, and her arms went around him, her fingers splaying over his smoothly muscled back. She let her head fall slowly backward, exposing her throat to his kisses, and he pressed his lips there, all tenderness.

His hands drifted down to cup her firm buttocks, pressing her close. She arched her body into his, amazed at the way their bodies melded together so easily. One of his hands slid upward and cupped her head, guiding her lips toward his. Lazily, drowsy with the slow sureness of it, she opened her mouth to his in joyous acceptance.

Heat rose in them; slow, hot waves of aching intensity. The heat ignited a flaming desire in both of them, a throbbing awareness that blotted out everything but the two of them, touching, kissing, wanting.

And then it was uncontrollable, a desperate seeking of two bodies that had long desired each other. Julie lost herself in his kisses, in his fervent caresses, floating away on a tide of sensation and emotion. When she thought she could no longer stand, he swept her into his arms and strode to the bed with her, gazing at her steadily and with barely muted passion before settling her carefully on top of the turned-back sheets.

"Where are you going?" she asked tremulously as he walked quickly across the room to the window.

He yanked the draperies open, revealing a panoramic view of the jewel-lit valley below.

He hurried back to the bed and stood over her, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"I have dreamed of you in my bed with your hair fanned out on my pillow. Tonight, Juliana, we will have moonlight so that I can see you that way." His shirt slid to the floor, and he reached out and turned off the light.

When her eyes adjusted to the silvery dimness, she saw that he had removed his jeans and stood above her like a moonlit statue. The planes of his face were shadowed, the taut muscles of his torso delineated by the brilliant light streaming in the window. Her heart swelled with love for him.

She sat up and reached out her arms. If she had been nervous earlier, she was not now. If she had been afraid, now she was not. Stephen was her true love, and she had waited for him so long.

"Come to bed," she whispered softly. "Come to bed, Stephen, my love."

* * *

Afterward, when they lay together in peaceful intimacy, her hair spread out across his chest, his arm cradling her securely against him, it seemed that they had always been this way. In Stephen's experience, there had never been such total sharing with a woman. He was warmed and heartened by their love for each other. He was made glad.

But he had to think of the future. Julie was scheduled to leave the farm soon. And this time she would really leave. There would be no reprieve.

Julie had her own thoughts. She loved him. Overriding everything else was that one fact: she loved Stephen Andrassy. What in the world was she going to do about it?

He knew that something was on her mind. He wasn't sure if he should ask her about it or if he should ignore it. But their problems wouldn't disappear unless they made them go away.

"Thinking such serious thoughts, my Juliana?" he said, tipping the edge of one finger across her bottom lip. He was rewarded when her lips curved into a smile.

"Yes," she admitted, sliding one leg between his.

"Do you wish to talk about them?" he asked gently.

"Mmm," she said, undecided. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, when they were feeling so close and warm, she thought she could tell Stephen anything.

"How was it for you today at the Gorge?" he asked. "Were you so scared for me?"

"Not—not overly so, I suppose. A few months ago I never could have imagined putting myself through such an ordeal. But today I watched."

"And how do you think this happened, this change in you?"

"Love made it happen," she said slowly. "Love."

He slid out from under her and propped himself on one elbow. His expression was earnest.

"Do you love me enough, Juliana, to make your peace with what I do for a living?"

She stared up at him, her heartbeat escalating. He was asking a lot.

"I'm not sure," she said brokenly.

"If you have an anxiety attack every time I go on the wire, it is no good. I could not concentrate, knowing that you were upset."

She stared at the crease in his upper lip. It was such a sensual upper lip. But it wasn't sensual enough to distract her from the conversation.

"I know," she said.

"Your worry stems from that night of the fall in the Superdome," he said carefully, afraid to press her too hard.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, turning away from him, her panicky feeling overridden by a sense of inevitability.

He wished he had not spoken. But there was so little time!

He put his arms around her and turned her to face him.

"Hush, Juliana, it's all right. You are safe in my arms, and we will not talk about that night if you don't want to."

Again she surprised him. "Stephen," she said, clearly struggling to control her voice, "I will tell you what. I've never told a living soul."

She sat bolt upright, kneeling on the bed, completely naked in the relentlessly brilliant light of the moon. Her cheeks were ashen. She pulled the sheet around her shoulders and took Stephen's hand.

"This is how it happened," she said, and she proceeded to tell him about that terrible night in the Superdome all those long years ago.

* * *

On that fateful journey, the Andrassys had arrived in New Orleans late one night and gone directly to their hotel suite. The next night, Saturday, a month before Hurricane Katrina came close to destroying the city, they were scheduled to perform at the Superdome in a special show sponsored by the Shriners to benefit handicapped children.

On Saturday morning, while Grandfather Anton and Julie's father, Sandor, and Uncle Bela had been setting up the rigging at the Superdome, a delighted seventeen-year-old Julie explored the antique shops on Royal Street in the French Quarter with her mother, whose name was Elisabeth, and the cousins.

Julie's brother, Tony, and Paul, Michael and Albert were quickly bored with antiques and cheerfully splintered off from the female contingent to take an eager look at Bourbon Street, well-known for its nightclubs of every description.

"You wouldn't believe the characters we saw while we were walking on Bourbon Street," Tony enthused afterward, when everyone met back at the hotel restaurant for lunch. "A man stood on the street corner playing seven instruments at one time. And we peeked in a topless bar and saw this—"

"Did you tell Julie about the sidewalk painter?" Paul interrupted hastily.

"No, that's something she'll have to see for herself," Tony said with a grin.

"Well, let's go over to Bourbon Street right now," Julie suggested, jumping up from her chair. "C'mon, everybody."

"No, Julie," her father said. "Everyone must rest this afternoon for the performance tonight."

"Oh, pooh," Julie said, slumping back into her chair. "Here we are in the most interesting city in the United States, and I have to sit around this hotel all afternoon." She glared daggers at her father, who ignored her.

But in the elevator on the way back to the family suite, Paul told Julie quietly, "The guys are going out after the performance tonight. We'll take in the jazz at Preservation Hall, maybe go to a few clubs while we're at it. You can come with us if you like."

Julie had brightened at this idea. "Thanks, Paul. I will." She shot him a happy smile as she and Eva left the group and went into the room they shared.

Eva flopped on the bed. Then, as now, Eva had required lots of sleep.

"Wake me in plenty of time to get ready for the performance," Eva told Julie as she plumped up her pillow and settled into it.

"Okay. Say, are you going with us to Bourbon Street tonight after the show?"

Eva yawned. "I doubt it. You're not thinking of going, are you?"

"Sure. Paul invited me."

"It doesn't sound like something your parents will let you do."

"Why, I'm almost eighteen years old. I'm practically an adult.

"You'd better check with them first," Eva cautioned, knowing how strict her own parents and Julie's could be.

Before long, Eva was sound asleep. Julie wasn't really tired, so she leafed through an old copy of
Seventeen
and tried to get interested in the stories, but they all seemed too juvenile. She was a full-fledged member of a talented performing troupe, earning her own living. Stories about girls trying to get boys to talk to them at the beach didn't satisfy her anymore.

Finally, impatiently tossing the magazine aside, Julie stood and went to the window. The city was spread out before her in all its glory—the Superdome, the French Quarter, the Mississippi River. She wished she were out there exploring it—but of course, it was Grandfather Anton's edict that they all must rest in the afternoon before a performance, and the Andrassys rigidly observed this rule. When they were performing the nine-person pyramid, any one of the Andrassys could be the weak link that caused the structure to crumble. It was supremely important to be in excellent physical and mental condition before attempting it.

Julie heard soft voices in the living room of their suite. First she heard Grandfather Anton's low rumbling tones, and then her mother's higher ones. Finally her father joined in. This was perfect—a time when she could speak to them privately about going out with her brother and her older male cousins. Quietly she slipped into the living room.

"Why, Julie, you should be resting," her mother scolded.

"I'm not tired," Julie retorted. Her mother's accusatory tone made her hackles rise.

"Please go back to your room and rest for tonight, Julie," Grandfather Anton said. He sounded stern, but then as family patriarch he was always strict about the rules.

"No," Julie said defensively, causing her father's eyebrows to lift sky high.

"Julie, you heard your Grandfather." Her father was firm. Grandfather Anton's word was law.

"What I mean is, Paul and the boys have asked me to go out with them tonight after the show. May I?"

Her father wrinkled his forehead. "You've never gone out with them before," he said.

"They've never invited me. And this is New Orleans, Dad. Please, I want to see—more of the city." Julie had the good sense not to mention the wonders of Bourbon Street.

"Julie, I believe you are too young to go out with the boys." Her grandfather eyed her sternly.