Mystique (9 page)

"I think he's worried about you. I
found him on a country road when he was just a pup. He's been with me ever
since. He's gentle and very intelligent."

"Yes," Misty agreed, though she
still wasn't sure of the animal.

"I'll send him into the
kitchen."

"Should I introduce myself?"
She gasped at her own boldness, afraid yet wanting to rid herself of the fear.

"It might help," Luc agreed.
"I'll hold you. Don't worry. Bruno, come." The Doberman rose in one
fluid motion and stepped toward them, stopping inches away from Misty. She
closed her eyes. Fear turned her legs to jelly. "Open your eyes, darling,
and say hello," Luc whispered.

She opened one eye. "Hello,
Bruno."

The dog wagged his stub of a tail.

"That's enough for the first lesson,
I think." Luc ordered the dog to the kitchen and led her into a huge room
with a fireplace and walls paneled in hand-carved oak. "Sit here."
Luc gestured toward a couch that matched the green in the Persian carpet. He
sank down near her feet and put a lit match to the kindling in the fireplace,
then turned and handed her the papers he'd shown her in the garage.
"Here's what I want you to read."

Misty tried to smile. "Why don't you
just tell me what they say."

He rose from the floor to sit close
beside her. "All right." He put the papers in his lap, lifting the
first one. "This is my bank statement certified by my board of directors
and accountants. With it is a list of my tangible assets and liabilities. I'm a
rich man, Mystique."

"That has nothing to do with
me," she said in a faint voice, staring from the papers to his face and
back again.

"Shhh. You mustn't interrupt me.
There, you can peruse my financial statements at your leisure, and of course
you are free to ask further questions and get any additional proof you might
want."

"Proof?" she repeated.

He lifted the second paper. "This is
a statement from my personal physician with a copy of all tests that I've had
in the last three years. I'm very healthy and, as you specified, free of disease."

"Lord..." Misty groaned.

"Shhh. You can look at all the
X-rays and tests I've had, and of course you can question my doctor."

She shook her head, unable to say
anything. A terrible dread had settled over her. She could almost guess what
was coming next.

"This last paper is our marriage
license, which is valid as of today. Since I see no reason to wait, I've
arranged for us to be married tomorrow afternoon, upstate in the town of Hudson. I managed to get your blood test waived, so we're all set."

Misty sagged against the back of the
couch, staring in shocked speechlessness at the man beside her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Misty surged to her feet.
"I have to go home." If need be, she'd run to Alaska to get away from
Luc Harrison.

"You're tired, darling. Why don't you
sleep here tonight? Then we'll have a leisurely drive up to Hudson
tomorrow." He stood up, clasping her lightly to his side.

"I can't marry you," Misty said
with a gasp.

From Luc's expression she could tell he
felt affronted. "I won't accept that," he said firmly. "I
fulfilled all your specifications. There is no insanity in the family—well, no
overt insanity. I have a few strange relatives, but what family doesn't?"

"You don't know me," Misty
protested.

"I do know you. The day I first saw
you playing the piano in the Edwardian Room I hired a private investigator to
learn all about you."

"You what!" She was shocked.
"Checking to see if I was a social pariah, I suppose," she said with
deadly sarcasm.

"No. Checking to see if you had a
husband I would have to take care of."

"What would you have done? Bought
him off? Killed him?"

"Yes," Luc said promptly.

Misty stared at him. Her mouth had gone
dry. "I won't marry anybody who's investigated me like the FBI."

"Why not? You're free to investigate
me. I've never been married, though I've had a mistress or two."

"Or forty," Misty shot back
with scathing anger, feeling less and less numb as she began to recover from
the initial shock.

"All right, I shouldn't have had you
investigated. But I had to know all about you. I couldn't wait to court you and
ask you questions about your marital status. I was in a hurry. You are going to
marry me."

"You don't know anything about me.
I... I've had my share of problems. I'm not the kind of woman who will fit in
with your family." She had no intention of telling him that her father had
once accused her of being a whore.

"Then we won't see my family,"
Luc assured her. "I'm fond of them, but I don't see them all the time. Of
course I'll want you to meet my father and mother." Luc smiled down at
her. "Father thinks you're beautiful. He told me my mother's hair was just
a shade lighter than yours when they were first married, but my mother says her
hair was more blond."

"Your parents know who I am?"

"Yes, but they'll really get to know
you after we're married. I took them to hear you play at the hotel, and they
were very impressed, as I knew they would be. You play so well."

"Luc, you didn't... I didn't see
them with you," Misty babbled.

"We were sitting at a corner table
out of your line of vision." He opened the double doors of the living room
and led her out to the foyer. "Shall we say good night to Bruno?"

"If you have to walk him, I'll wait
here," Misty said, her mind awhirl.

"You're thinking that you'll run out
the door and go home while I'm walking the dog. But I'm not about to let you
roam the streets of Manhattan at this time of night. Besides, I would come
after you and take you up to Hudson to get married anyway."

"We aren't in love."

He shrugged. "Define
love for me. I know I want to marry you. I know you told me you wanted no other
type of relationship with a man. So, I'm all set." He looked down at her,
determination showing in his rigid stance and hard jaw.

Misty was at a loss for words. She felt
as if she'd been swept up in a strong current and washed helplessly downstream.

"Didn't you tell me that you wanted
marriage?" Luc queried.

"I said I wouldn't have any other
type of relationship, but... but I didn't—"

"I'm holding you to that,
Mystique."

"Misty. Everyone calls me Misty,"
she declared, losing her patience.

"Except your husband-to-be."

"We can't get married. People like
us don't get married. They live together until they're sure, and then...
then..."

"You don't want that, and I've found
that I don't want it either. You can sleep alone tonight if you wish, but no
matter what you decide, I want two things from you now."

"What?" Her voice had a hollow
ring.

"I don't want you to try to leave
this house alone, and I want you to promise that you won't go back on our agreement."

"What agreement? I didn't make
any—" "We're just going around and around in circles, love. You're
tired. We'll talk in the morning. Come on, I'll show you our room. You can
sleep there tonight. I'll sleep upstairs."

"This is crazy, this is crazy,"
Misty kept whispering to herself all the way up the stairs.

She was too distraught to appreciate the
beautiful beige and cream-colored bedroom with the huge bed in the center.
"I have a water bed," she said inanely.

"We'll toss this one out and get a
water bed," Luc offered.

"I have to have my piano. It costs a
great deal to move a concert grand," she informed him as he unzipped her
jeans.

"I know. I had three Steinways moved
in here two weeks ago. They're all in perfect tune, so you should have no
trouble."

"Three Steinways? That's
disgusting," she told him, her voice going hoarse. Without thinking, she
stepped out of her jeans.

"Would you like to sleep in the
buff, sweets, or do you want the top of my pajamas?"

"I sleep in a flannel nightgown, and
sometimes in flannel pajamas," she babbled.

"With feet in them, I'll bet."

"I used to until we were able to buy
a better heating system for the house," Misty told him blankly. "This
is a dream." Her voice was muffled as he slipped his silk pajama top over
her head. "What will you wear now that I have your pajamas?" She
looked down at herself, noting that the hem of the top fell below her knees.

"My mother buys them for me so that
if the place burns down I won't have to run naked into the street. She has high
hopes that I'll at least keep them at my bedside."

"You sleep in the nude," Misty
pronounced solemnly.

"Yes. You'll get used to it."

"I am signing myself into an asylum
tomorrow," she told him, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"I'll make you happy," he
promised.

"You'll hate me in three
months," she vowed.

"Never." Luc led her to the bed
and stared down at her with an expression that sent warmth to all her
extremities and set off a throbbing pulse in her very core. After a few moments
he urged her under the sheets. "Would you like some company to keep you
warm?" he asked, his voice sounding thick to Misty, who was half asleep.

"No." She yawned. "I
always sleep alone. You go walk the dog."

"After tomorrow you won't sleep
alone," he muttered, his voice growing fainter as Misty sank deeper into
sleep.

The sound of an insistent buzzing almost
awakened her. Then the noise stopped, and she snuggled into the warm down quilt
that covered her, rolling over onto her stomach.

"Wake up, darling."
Luc shook her gently, chuckling when she groaned as he pulled the quilt off the
bed. "I fully intended to let you sleep longer, but we have a problem
that—Lord, where did you get those scars on your backside?" He cursed
softly as he lifted the pajama top higher and examined her. "If you hadn't
twisted the top up, I might not have noticed these. I sure as hell didn't
notice them when I undressed you." He muttered another low curse as his
hand gently traced the raised welts.

Misty shivered and, pushing
the pillow off her head, turned on her side to face him, trying in vain to pull
the pajama top down. "Give me back the covers," she mumbled,
regarding him through bleary eyes.

Luc didn't bother to remove
the towel from around his waist before he slipped into bed beside her and
gathered her close to him. "Tell me. Was that where the dog bit you,
darling?"

Misty nodded, burrowing her
face into his neck and reveling in his warmth. "I hadn't teased the dog. I
was just walking past on the sidewalk."

"And your father accused you of
teasing the animal," Luc said in low tones.

"Yes." She gulped. "He and
Mr. Marris, the owner of the dog, said that I must have provoked it because Sandy was usually friendly." The words bubbled from her like air escaping from a
balloon.

"Why didn't the doctor recommend cosmetic
surgery?"

"My father didn't take me to the
doctor until the bites were infected."

"Damn him! You might have contracted
tetanus from being left untreated." Luc cuddled her closer.

"My mother poured iodine on the
bites." Misty shivered as she remembered how much it had hurt. She'd
screamed so loudly.

"Good God," Luc whispered, his
hand trembling as he stroked her hair.

They lay there in silence, Luc's slow
hand soothing her. Then, abruptly, he stiffened. "I forgot. I got a call
from Aileen. It seems we have visitors. Your three sisters have come to stay
with you."

"My sisters?" Misty shot up to
a sitting position in bed and whirled to face him as he rolled onto his back,
his hands clasped behind his head. "Are you sure? My sisters?" He
nodded.

Misty bit her lip. "I haven't seen
them in years. Gosh, they must be—"

"Eighteen, nineteen, and
twenty-one," Luc supplied. He reached up and twisted a finger in her thick
hair. "Don't worry. I called my sister Alice, and she's going right over
to your apartment. She has three grown children, two boys and a girl, all of
whom are living on their own in various parts of the country. She and her
husband John love their family and miss them. When I told her she might get the
chance to have young boarders, she was ecstatic."

"They came to me," Misty said
in wonder. "They need me. I have to go to them." She jumped out of
bed, jerking the pajama top down over her backside when she heard Luc suck in
his breath.

"Okay, darling. If you want them to
live with us, that's fine with me. We have plenty of room. But this morning
we'll explain that it's our wedding day and arrange to have them stay with
Alice and John."