by C. T. Adams
Antoine leaned back in angry frustration, muttering things so foul that even in French, he could smell Margo’s embarrassment. She quickly removed her hand from his shoulder. He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands in clutched fists and pulling them from the band. The rubber band was removed and replaced so quickly that he doubted Margo even noticed. But the hair was becoming annoying. Bet or no bet, he would be cutting it soon.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Very well. Is she still in your room or in hers?”
“Actually—” Margo paused for a moment, causing Antoine to drop his head farther back so he could see her face. She winced and bit her lip. “She was quite upset, so Giselle suggested she wait in your room.”
His eyes widened and he leaned forward and turned the old chair on the pedestal. “Pardonne? Grand-mère allowed her to go into my room? The room where my briefcase containing sensitive council documents is sitting in full view?”
“She did take out the briefcase, and apparently…all of the chairs. I think she was hoping that Tahira would be forced to sit on the bed. Specifically, the quilt.”
Antoine pursed his lips. It was actually quite a good idea, and one that hadn’t occurred to him. He smiled. “She is brilliant, as always. How long has Tahira been in the room?”
“Probably about ten minutes. Is that long enough?”
“Let’s give her another ten. I’ll respond to this e-mail, and you go up and tell her I’ll speak to her in a moment. If she’s not on the bed, suggest that she lie down, or even sit on the bed with her for a moment. In fact, take up a glass of wine for both of you. Between the quilt and wine, she should be quite calm when we speak.”
Margo let out a small laugh. “That will probably do it. But you might have to wake us both up.”
He turned back to the keyboard and clicked on Reply. “Even better. Oh, before you go in the room, stop in the television room and put on a classical music CD on the player—your choice. My room is auxiliary speaker D.”
“Wow! You want her completely comatose. If I fall asleep and forget to pay the bills, don’t whine that you have to pay reconnect fees.”
He turned his head and winked. “I have complete faith in your attention to your job, Margo. I doubt we’re anywhere close to late on the bills. But if we are, I promise not to utter a single comment.”
When she’d gathered the glasses and bottle and left the room, Antoine turned his attention back to his student’s message.
Thank you for adding to my repertoire of scent references. I’ll definitely try them out to see if I agree.
Tell Nikoli that while I’m sorry that I destroyed the chair, I question the value he’s placed on it, heirloom or not. Please tell him to contact me directly with any *evidence* he might have, such as a dated appraisal, and I will be pleased to pay the actual value.
Antoine smiled wickedly as he wrote the words. Tony would probably laugh. While the esteemed pack leader of Chicago might say his dusty old chair was worth eighteen thousand dollars, Antoine suspected he was just annoyed and wanted his strip of hide in cash form.
I’m sorry that your gift is not being cooperative. They’re often like that. I remember my sister once mentioning that she found it useful to find two other people who shared a significant event with her and “read” them. Naturally, they must know about us and be willing to participate, and the event has to be something that will evoke strong emotions. But if you talk about the event enough to recall it in each of your minds, and then touch them, it’s possible that you might be able to see the same event from multiple points of view. Then, since you were there, you can decide what information from the others is valid and what to discard. Consider it your assignment for the week. Let me know what happens. My regards to your lovely wife. —A
Antoine glanced at his watch as he hit the Send button. It had been almost exactly ten minutes. He closed down the internet connection and walked upstairs. He expected to hear voices and music, but there was only the light crinkling sound of paper coming from inside his room.
That was not a good sign.
Chapter Five
ANTOINE OPENED THE door, expecting the worst. Instead, he found Tahira alone on the bed, completely oblivious to his presence. She was sipping a glass of wine and smiling as she poked at a portion of the quilt, causing the wad of gift wrap inside to rustle enticingly.
The quilt Grand-mère had made all those years ago was a masterpiece of style, form, and function. It was nice to see that it still had the same effect on cats as when it had covered his and Fiona’s beds when they were children.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said lightly.
Tahira started and looked up as her glass nearly leapt from her hand, causing a few drops of wine to fall on the pillow.
She put one hand to her chest and sat up. “God! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She noticed the spilled wine and reached for a tissue while placing her wine glass carefully on the bedside table. “Well, at least it was Chablis. It probably won’t stain. I shouldn’t even be sitting on the bed, but there aren’t any chairs and I was tired of standing and looking out the window.”
Antoine walked to the bed and sat down next to her. “Don’t be concerned in the least. This quilt is intended to be toyed with. It’s the purpose of it.”
She stopped pressing the tissue into the pillow. He noticed that she didn’t move away from the spot where their legs nearly touched.
“The quilt has a purpose?”
Antoine nodded and scooted farther up onto the bed so he could lie on his side with a bent arm under his head. “Indeed. Grand-mère made this when my twin sister and I were just children. We both had our first change very early in life and were very tense and nervous near the moon. It was difficult to sleep. This quilt was made to help us relax.”
Tahira smoothed her hand over the top of the quilt. “It’s certainly gorgeous. It must have taken a long time to make. It’s a crazy quilt, isn’t it? There are so many different fabrics: lace and velvet, brocade and satin, and all the embroidery that connects the pieces. I saw one like this at the state fair. It won the grand champion ribbon, and it wasn’t nearly as intricate as this one.”
Antoine nodded. “Ah, but this has more than just a beautiful exterior. The interior is what makes the quilt so special. There are many secrets in this quilt, some that even I haven’t uncovered.”
“Secrets in the quilt? What sort of secrets? Is there more than just batting under the top layer?” Tahira tried to turn her head to see him, but his position made it impossible. She hiked one leg onto the mattress and turned her whole body to face him.
Antoine smiled. “Well, you already found one secret—the wrapping paper that rustles when you move it. There are few things more enticing to a cat of any sort than crinkle paper hidden from view. Grand-mère found that wadded gift wrap works the best. It doesn’t flatten up as much as grocery sack paper.” He poked at an overstuffed pocket next to his head. “Another secret is this bit right here. Smell it.”
* * *
TAHIRA WAS SUSPICIOUS of his amused expression and scent, but leaned forward and put her nose to the cloth. An amazing rush of scent cut straight to her brain and conjured images of every description. There were so many scents, each one of them distinct and pure. It was like walking inside a flock of birds in an English garden near a forest at the sea. There were flowers and herbs, trees, moss, and salt water. The smell was enchanting, intoxicating, and she found herself wanting to pick it up like a bouquet of flowers and carry it around with her.
“How in the world?” She turned to look at him. His green and gold eyes were startlingly close and were twinkling with the same amusement that turned up one corner of his mouth.
“Grand-mère is both a healer and probably the world’s first aromatherapist. Fiona and I were forever catching birds as kittens and Grand-mère would insist that we bring them to her to remove the feathers before we ate them.” He grinned sheepi
shly. “Sometimes we even did. I still have a fondness for squab.”
Tahira laughed brightly. “Leave it to the French to come up with a fancy name for pigeon. But it’s not like I can talk. Sparrows are my weakness. Mom keeps complaining that she’s filling a bird feeder, not a cat feeder. But there’s just something about those quick little movements.” She could almost feel herself drooling at the thought of stalking one. “I know it’s sort of sick—”
Antoine’s eyes were bright as he watched her, and his scent was thick with amusement when he shook his head. “Not really. It’s difficult enough to fight down our instincts not to chase humans for sport, and I doubt that sparrows or pigeons will become extinct because of us. I must admit, it’s quite nice to meet someone who shares my somewhat unique indulgence, and understands it’s not horrible. Oh, and ‘squab’ isn’t a French word. It’s Scandinavian, and it’s served in restaurants in Europe.”
“I doubt the restaurants serve them with the feathers though. I have the feeling you don’t wait for the butter to melt.” She was teasing and he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying the banter. “I don’t know if it’s horrible or not, but I doubt my high school friends would understand my snatching one out of the air in front of them.” She looked again at the quilt. “So there are more than just one sort of feathers in these pockets?”
He nodded. “Indeed. In that one little pocket, there are feathers of probably a dozen different birds, from cardinals and sparrows to ducks, geese, and quail. Wherever we would stop for a show, more feathers would be added to the quilt. And there are herbs, too. Chamomile and rosemary, cinnamon, dill, and a dozen others scattered throughout the quilt. You would think they would conflict, but they don’t. The quilt is meant to quiet a frantic mind. It helps a person relax and think clearly. Amber keeps it in this room for when I visit. I’m often very stressed.”
“But if Giselle made this quilt when you were a child, then it’s twenty or thirty years old. How can it still smell so strong?”
Antoine laughed and a bright burst of sweet citrus blended with the herbs from the quilt. He raised up onto his elbow. “Thank you for that, but I’m a touch older than you might think. As for her methods, I don’t think anyone will ever know the answer. Grand-mère has her own secrets, which she will take to her grave.” He reached over and brushed a stray hair away from her face, making her skin tingle. “You seem much more calm. Do you feel that way?”
The question startled her, but as soon as he said it, she knew it was true. “You’re right. I just feel relaxed. Sort of like after a day of reading a book under a shade tree. It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”
His smile was warm, pleased, and suddenly very enticing. Before she even realized what she was doing, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He didn’t react like she expected. The part of her that thought of him as a famous, unreachable persona expected that he would pull back and either chastise her or pat her head like a little girl.
She hadn’t suspected that he might want her to do just what she had. She suddenly found herself tight against him with strong fingers kneading her hair and the back of her neck. His other arm slowly slid up the back of her shirt and squeezed tight enough to make her stomach clench. His mouth began to move against hers, his tongue exploring, teasing, encouraging her to do the same. He tasted of sweet, heady brandy and chocolate, and his natural musk was growing stronger, filling her nose and turning her brain to putty. The scent tightened her body, arousing her faster than anything she’d ever experienced.
His fingers began to contract on her neck, and she could feel his fingernails bite into her skin. He took a deep breath and then let out a small growl. The kiss deepened just a bit, and she could feel the golden hair on his chin rubbing against her skin. Each time his fingers padded, nails dug deeper into her skin. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and the sensation made her writhe in pleasure. When he lifted his hips to press against her, he was fully erect.
The knowledge of what might happen if they continued panicked her for the briefest moment. There was something raw and powerful about Antoine. Somehow she knew that he would slowly carve the pleasure from her with nails and teeth. For the first time in her life, the tiger rose to the surface and wanted…needed the frantic claws and hisses of another cat during the moon.
She gave herself to the sensation, willed him to continue, and then suddenly felt every inch of her body bathed in a burning roil of magical energy that both surrounded her and pounded against her like jets in a spa. The combination of the hungry kiss along with the skin-prickling power made her pulse race and her body weak.
She slid her fingers through his hair, marveling at how it could be coarse, thick, and silky all at once. She was suddenly light-headed and desperate to feel his hands touching her bare skin—somewhere, anywhere, everywhere.
The power intensified until her skin became as hot and swollen as after a midday run in the summer. Antoine seemed to notice, because he placed his palm flat against the back of her neck for a moment and then against her cheek. He moved his mouth from hers and ran his lips along the line of her jaw while she remained frozen, letting the sensations wash over her body as she struggled to breathe.
His whisper near her ear made her shiver. “Suddenly, I’m not nearly as relaxed as I was, and neither are you, mon chat du feu. We should stop now, before we wind up doing something we both might regret—as enjoyable as it would undoubtedly be.”
He eased his hands off her and moved her away just enough to allow him to sit up. She opened her mouth to say…something, but he put a finger to her lips with a small smile.
“Shhh. There’s no need to speak, Tahira. It was lovely, and I thank you. Just accept it for what it was. But I still have contracts to read, and you still need rest.” Antoine paused, and took a deep breath, as though mentally switching gears, Tahira thought. “I’ve asked Margo to contact your family and they will probably arrive as soon as the airport is accepting flights. When they get into town, we’ll give them directions here. The address and telephone for this house are very secret, as I’m sure you can understand. I would appreciate it if you would not call them for now. Too many people have caller ID or could trace this location and I can’t allow that. You’re welcome to sleep on the quilt if you like. One of us will wake you for dinner.”
She nodded dumbly, and watched him stand up and walk to the door. She couldn’t figure out what to say or whether to say anything at all. She didn’t feel quite real yet. Her skin was still vibrating lightly and aching, feeling like it should be able to crawl right off her bones. She could swear that bees were buzzing in her ears. As he reached to close the door behind him, he caught her eye and winked. Her heart skipped a beat and her body clenched.
She dropped backward almost bonelessly onto the quilt, hoping for the same lazy feeling as earlier. But everything smelled like him now. Her hair, her skin, even her clothes. She could still taste musk and brandy on her lips, and it made her shiver with anticipation, along with a fair helping of fear. She was so not relaxed anymore.
Even after ten minutes, Tahira’s muscles refused to unclench, and she was sweating bullets from the magical energy still heating the air around her—and she was beginning to worry.
This isn’t normal. Attraction is one thing, but this is just freaky. There’s something seriously weird going on and I need to find out what it is.
A wave of dizziness hit her as she sat up. She took slow, deep breaths. When the light-headedness passed, she stood. It was time to get some answers.
Chapter Six
“WE NEED TO talk.”
Antoine jumped as the angry female voice brought him back from his thoughts. The contract on the computer screen was already on page eight and he couldn’t remember a single word of what he’d read. Blast it!
He turned to look at Giselle. When he did, he noticed that there were deep gouges in the arm of the big wooden chair. He hadn’t even realized he was cl
awing the arm to splinters, but he wasn’t surprised. The situation with Tahira was becoming a great concern. He’d had another vision. Two in less than a day! But what a vision it had been! For the first time, he’d had sensory input other than visual. He could hear his own growls; smell and feel the sensation of her naked body under his, the scent of her hair as he clenched her neck in his teeth. No, that was a vision better to avoid than encourage. While he had exited the room gracefully, the power drain during their kiss had cost him a great deal. He hadn’t fully recovered from the first time. Combined with the vision, the kiss had been enough to leave him weak and…more than a bit nervous.
He lifted up his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “Better?” His voice was just short of annoyed at her tone. Her return gaze was disapproving. “I suppose this was a gift from you to Charles. Do you plan to turn me over on your knee?”
“I think we’re well beyond that stage, Councilman Monier.” Giselle’s voice was serious. Each word ended with a slight snarl. “I’m not concerned about the chair, although it is a symptom of the underlying problem. I just spoke with Tahira.”
“Merde!” Antoine stood and pushed back the chair hard enough that it hit the wall with a loud thud. He threw his hands in the air, turned, and walked toward the fireplace. “Please do not lecture me about women, Grand-mère! I agree that it was a mistake to kiss her, and one that I do not plan to repeat. Does that satisfy you?”
Giselle dropped her chin a fraction, and the burning caramel scent of her anger filled the large room. Antoine could swear that he saw her hair fluff defensively. “I don’t believe you have any clue what might satisfy me at this point. But that is what I am here to discuss. Did you know that Tahira is glowing, Antoine? And I do mean that literally. She has absorbed so much energy from you that her skin is red and she is in a great deal of pain.” She paused to see how he would react.