Torn Asunder (3 page)
Authors: Ann Cristy
Curious, Cle
ignored the other boxes and unzipped the dress bag, anxious to see the creation
that Jaime was sure would suit her blue black hair, a shade off the black that
was Dev's. Her breath caught when she pulled the sky blue silk dress from the
bag. Very narrow sequined braid in navy blue outlined the crisscrossed bodice,
the braid becoming a halter for the neck. There was no back to the dress! None!
Cle began shaking her head "no" even as she put on the under things
and slipped the dress over her head. She didn't need to fasten anything, there
were no fastenings of any kind. The bias of the silk made the dress hug her
body like stretch fabric. Two pieces of material covered her breasts then came
together at her waist to swath her body. The skirt was slit in front to the
knee and with every move that Cle made the fabric swirled softly, molding her
body. She looked over her shoulder and gasped. The dress was backless all
right: it plunged to just below her waist. She twirled. It was a daring gown,
but elegant and it matched her eyes to ah incredible degree. Dev called her sky
blue eyes rimmed with navy around the irises "heavenly eyes."
She wrinkled her nose as she gazed down
at the shoes that went with the gown. They looked a bit large. She slipped on
the navy blue peau de soie sandals and adjusted the straps at the heels,
happily surprised that they fit. The training she had had with Toner's made her
swing into the traditional model's walk—hips forward, shoulders back, tummy
tucked—as she glided out to Jaime.
He turned when
she called to him, but did not betray his thoughts by a flicker of an eyelash
until the slow smile began. "I was right again, of course. You will model
that dress for me tonight. Tomorrow I will be inundated with women wanting to
look like the lissome Cle Orwell, with the wet licorice hair that hangs like a
curtain to her shoulders and the porcelain skin that looks like warm cream. My
God, Cle darling, you are a beauty with those sapphire eyes. They look so
mysterious with that rim around them. You're an angel from another planet, my
dear." Jaime breathed, standing and taking her arm to twirl her around.
"And you're my creation. You'll knock that assemblage on its collective
ass," Jaime pronounced irreverently, making Cle laugh. He put his hand on
her arm and leaned over to kiss her. "He isn't good enough for you, Cle.
Give him up." Jaime muttered into her cheek.
She stood frozen, then leaned back,
shaking her head. "If you mean Dev, Jaime, he really is good to me. I've
been happy with him."
"He has also made you very sad. Do
you think he will ever marry you, Cle? And don't give me that old saw that
neither you nor Dev is interested in marriage. You know what I mean. He'll
revert to family and the old school tie and, however much he says that it's out
of date, he will decide that he needs an heir, that he must marry and continue the
fine old name of Carstairs. Then Lord Carstairs will emerge and Dev
Carstairs will disappear. . .and so will you from his life."
Cle laughed even though she felt a shiver
of dread crawl along her spine. Jaime was saying out loud what had wriggled around
in the deep recesses of her mind. Oh, not all the time, only now and
then...when she was away from Dev for any length of time when he traveled or on
the rare occasion when she did.
"Dev doesn't
want marriage, nor do I," Cle said staunchly. "As to family, well, he
has a brother, numerous cousins, nephews, what have you. If he were interested
in heirs, he has them. But he is not interested. Dev is a very modern man. I'm
a very modern woman. We fit nicely."
"I repeat: he isn't good enough for
you." Jaime swiftly turned the full force of his attention to the dress.
"I don't think it needs a stitch of altering. You must wear only a pinkie
ring and earrings with this. Your arms must be bare and so must your throat.
Your lovely skin will be the best accessory. Do you have the jewelry?"
"I brought the sapphires that Dev
gave me, but I don't have a pinkie ring. I thought I'd wear my gold watch
"No,"
Jaime thundered, "just the earrings then. Now get changed and get back to
work. I don't pay you to loaf."
Cle shot a playful frown at him.
"You're a slave driver and you know it!"
The afternoon
proved to be chaos. Two of the lead dresses in the collection came up missing
and the salon was in an uproar as Jaime threatened to behead the modiste who
had seen them last. They were found in his vault. By regular closing time he
had managed to reduce most of the staff to gasping hysterics and Cle's head was
bursting. More, she was an hour late.
She tried three times to put on her
makeup and though she was only wearing the lightest liquid foundation and a
touch of blush, it took twice the time it ordinarily would have. Her eye makeup
was blue shadow, the color of her eyes and her dark long lashes required no
color or lengthening with mascara.
She heard the outer door of the dressing
room open and called out to see who it was.
"It's Jaime. I've brought you
something to wear over your dress and I do not want to hear your views on
killing animals to provide coats for the wealthy. I have it on the best
authority that these ermine committed suicide." Jaime studied her, the
warm look in his eyes disconcerting Cle until she remembered that Jaime always
appeared to be in the throes of passion when gazing at one of his creations.
"You have the look of a devilish
madonna. You are at once restrained and wild, shy but flirtatious."
Jaime's face changed again. "I think you have given me an idea for a new
line. I'll call it... hmm... ah... yes, I'll call it 'Demons in
stated, lifting the ermine to lay it across her shoulders.
The fur
surrounded her neck like a cloud, outlining her face and the fall of black hair
like a frame.
"You have
never looked lovelier." He sighed. "I hate to see it wasted on Dev
Carstairs."
Cle squealed when she looked at the time.
"Don't worry, I'm so late, he'll probably be so annoyed that he'll ignore
me all evening." Cle moaned, hurrying to the elevator and punching at the
button, aware of Jaime behind her.
"Walk in as
though you were royalty and very much aware that everyone there was waiting
just for you so the party could begin. If that fool Carstairs ignores you, as
sure as my aunt is a lush, the other men there will not!"
"Jaime, I
don't know what your clientele would say if they heard you refer to your aunt
in such a fashion," Cle scolded, laughing, as she stepped into the
elevator.
He shrugged and lifted his hand in a
farewell just as the doors closed with a whish and she was sped to the lobby
area of Toner Fabrics and Design.
Hailing a cab in the cold rain was an
impossibility at any time in downtown
dollars when he stepped out into traffic and almost bulldogged a taxi to the
curb.
By the time she reached
the hotel she was an hour and a half past the time she had agreed to meet Dev.
She hurried toward the dining room that the hotel clerk indicated, then
stopped in front of the closed doors to take a deep breath. Dev would be angry.
She decided to ignore that anger and be serene. At least that was what she told
herself she would do.
Letting her
breath go, she grasped the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped through, a
smile pinned to her face. She let her eyes rove the room, willing her smile to
stay in place as she saw how many people had left the cocktail area and were
now seated. It unnerved her as a herd of sleek heads turned in her direction.
She knew with a sinking feeling that it would seem to some as if she had
deliberately timed her entrance. Biting her lip, she whispered, "To hell
with them," and continued to look for Dev.
The hair raising
on her arms was the first signal that he was near her. She turned, her smile in
place, looking at a spot over his left shoulder. "Hello. Sorry I'm late.
Things were wild this afternoon."
"Of course.
At my place it was much different. We just sat around napping or
chatting." His British accent was clipped. As he lifted the swath of
ermine from her shoulders his eyes narrowed on the fur. He was still looking at
it when he spoke again, the measured words in even softer tones and telling her
he was very angry! "I can't remember the number of times you told me never
to buy you a fur. That you didn't believe..." He turned to look at her,
the faintest widening of his eyes, the trailing voice, the muscle jumping at
the corner of his mouth, telling her of his feelings more than words could.
Cle swallowed
when she looked up into the leaping green eyes. "I know you like me in blue,
so I wore one of Jaime's new creations." She cleared her throat over the
lie. "Do you like it?"
"Every man here will like it on
you." His teeth snapped together, the pallor of his face more pronounced
as his hand reaching round her back encountered her skin. "What the
hell... Isn't there anything to this damn "dress?"
"There are many women here tonight
wearing much less." She lifted her chin and gazed past him into the room.
"I was sick of wearing black. Now, don't you think we should find our
table. Almost everyone is seated." She felt the fingers at her waist
clench into her flesh and her body arched in response.
"I'll get you a Perrier first."
Dev's voice was wooden as he led her toward the bar.
"I think I'll have a vodka martini,
instead. Very dry."
"You never
drink hard liquor." Dev's voice grated into her ear as he held her even
closer to his body.
"Tonight I'm
going to have a martini." Cle silently cursed the squeak in her voice, but
the glide in her walk was smooth as she headed for the bar. She was dimly aware
of the myriad eyes, both male and female, that followed her movements. She
stopped in front of the small bar and put both hands on the cushioned edge,
gripping it. The glittering smile she gave the man behind the bar brought him
to her at once. "I'd like a vodka martini, please. Very dry."
"I'll just whisper the word vermouth
as I pass you the glass. Is that dry enough, ma'am?" The bronze haired
young man grinned at her.
"Just right." Cle smiled back,
feeling Dev behind her, his hand low on her spine. She watched the hand come
round her and reach for the drink the bartender placed in front of her. Dev
lifted the drink, her eyes following the motion of the glass until it reached
his mouth. How she loved those firm lips, the lower one with a sensual fullness
that softened whenever he looked at her!
"If you
quaff this, my love, you'll be on your glorious derriere. Did you tell that
besotted fool to make you a double?"
"Of course not, and he isn't a
besotted fool. He was just being gracious," Cle snapped, holding out her
hand as a demand for the drink. Dev gave it to her and she took a sip, trying
not to shudder as the vodka slipped down her throat. She should have told the
bartender to serve it on the rocks, then the melting ice could have lessened
the kick of the raw liquor.
The bartender
came back. "I made your martini with Balenkov's vodka, ma'am. That's the
best we have and the strongest. One hundred and eighty proof! Just as strong as
lemon extract, my wife tells me." The bartender moved back down the bar,
laughing at his little joke.
"Wonderful," Cle whispered,
blinking to keep her eyes from watering, aware that her vocal cords were being
eroded and that her stomach was on fire. She felt the heat rise all the way to
her face as she took another infinitesimal sip. Damn, she cursed herself. What
a fool she was to have lived to this age without learning how to handle liquor.
She tried to
smile up at Dev but her lips felt like rubber. "I'm ready to sit down
now," she announced.
"You've
never said a truer word." Dev ground his teeth, clamping onto her upper
arm and leading her to one of the round tables in front of the raised dais and
seating her. Oh, Lord, old Mr. Hopewell was sitting just above Cle where he
would be watching her all through dinner. It was Cle's turn to grind her teeth
as she thought of the interminable speech that the crusty old bear would make.
Oh, sweet agony, there was his sister, Corinne, sitting on the other side of
the stand where a microphone held center stage. As Dev drew his chair close,
Cle took a gulp of the martini and started to cough.
"Will you cool down?" he
hissed, patting her in an ungentle way on the back. "You'll be sick."
"I'll be dead if you don't stop
beating me." Cle glowered at him, pulling her body away from him, then
almost swaying out of the chair. She felt Dev's arm at once, pulling her back
and heard him mutter, "Cle, behave."
