From the Torrid Past
Page 6
She jumped to her feet, her white face staring back at her from the dressing room mirror. Oh God, she still loved Keele! What a cup of water from a poisoned well that was! Her insides knotted in nauseous rejection of the thought. She looked down in a dazed way at the Saks Fifth Avenue bag clutched in her hand. The triumph she had felt at charging clothes to Gregson Timms's account faded away as that realization mushroomed through her being.
I love Keele Petrakis!
It sang through her mind as she showered and shampooed. It bellowed through her body as she donned the new peach colored undies she had purchased and the sheer silklike stockings she pulled over her long legs. The black silk shirtwaist was so tailored it looked like an office garment, until she moved and the lighter-than-air material took oil a life of its own, swirling and belling in graceful rhythm. The dress just reached her knees, so that her long slim legs were shown to advantage and enhanced by the peau de soie slings. She carried a coin purse slung over one shoulder by a black silk ribbon. Her curling red hair bounced on her shoulders. Her earrings were crescents of jet and jade that curved at the edge of her lobes. She wore no other jewelry except her gold watch, which rarely left her arm. She paused for a moment to look at the décolletage of her dress, toying with the idea of buttoning up another button, when the phone rang. She answered and said yes that she was coming right downstairs.
Keele was waiting for her in the lobby, reading a newspaper, seemingly oblivious to the glances thrown his way by the women there. D'Arcy felt like a green knife was slicing her. She couldn't stop watching him.
When he saw her, he straightened up from the pillar he was lounging against and looked at her from head to toe and back again. The smile made her redden and he saw this as he sauntered toward her. The smile deepened. "You look lovely."
Her eyes were pulled to his; the heat she found there ignited her body, making her feel that his liquid eyes had just spilled over her. Taking a breath, she looked around her, surprised to find that people were still moving about them, that the world hadn't stopped, that no one else seemed to have been affected by the upheaval.
"I have reservations for eight-thirty. Shall we go?"
D'Arcy couldn't even speak, couldn't even ask where they were going. She simply allowed him to take her elbow and lead her from the building. The chauffeured limousine waiting at the curb surprised her.
Keele shrugged as she turned to look at him. "It's easier to get around New York at night this way."
"Is it now? I'll have to remember that," D'Arcy said.
Keele laughed. "Don't you know you should sweeten some of that vinegar? Perhaps the champagne will help."
"Champagne? Why are we having champagne?" D'Arcy tried to rally.
"To celebrate," he breathed, moving across the seat.
"Oh? Celebrate what?" D'Arcy looked at him as though he were a hooded cobra.
"Our engagement, of course." Keele's mouth swooped over hers, catching her open-mouthed protest into his own. The sudden invasion of her mouth sent such a wave of weakness through her that she had the frightening feeling she had just overdosed.
Chapter 4
"You. . . are ... one ... brick short." D'Arcy gasped, trying in vain to free herself from his hold. "I have never heard such a ridiculous thing in my life. Will you let me go!" She struggled, glaring at his amused face.
"We are becoming engaged tonight, D'Arcy," Keele said, his smile still in place but his eyes hard and determined. "I count myself lucky you haven't jumped into bed with another man as yet."
"You bastard!" she sputtered, trying to push at his shoulder. "Even if I do have a relationship with another man, it is certainly no business of yours. Release me!"
The long fingers bit into her shoulders. "And have you a relationship with another man, D'Arcy? Tell me."
D'Arcy threw back her head, fully intending to tell him yes, she had something going with someone else and that he could go to hell. But those gold ore eyes pierced her through. "No," she said. He shook her. "I mean no, I haven't involved myself with anyone." She swallowed, looking away from him. "Now will you let me go?"
"No, my little D'Arcy, I will never let you go." He folded her close to his side, his mouth sliding down her cheek.
She shivered as unbidden tears clouded her eyes.
"Are you cold, darling?" Keele whispered, his arms tightening.
She shook her head, unable to answer him, her throat filled with unshed tears.
"You'll enjoy it tonight. This show is supposed to be the best comedy to come along in years. Then we're having dinner at a very intimate restaurant I know, then we'll dance. I know you are a beautiful dancer. I thought of that so many times."
D'Arcy peered up into his face, lit by the passing lights of the Manhattan theater district. "I'm sure I'll enjoy tonight, but you must be joking about our engagement. That's impossible."
She felt Keele's whole body harden at her side. "I'm not joking and it's not only possible, it's a fact that you and I are engaged. I have arranged for the announcement to be in the papers tomorrow."
"You what?" D'Arcy jackknifed erect, horror coursing through her. "You can't have done such a thing! What will Henry and Adelaide think. My God, someone will tell Sean."
"You can tell him yourself. I'm giving you tomorrow off to take care of things like that. While you are explaining it to your son, you might tell him that I wish to meet him. Arrange that too. Who are Henry and Adelaide?"
"My aunt and uncle," D'Arcy answered, her voice dazed. "They take care of Sean for me at times."
Keele led her down the theater aisle, keeping a warm hand at her back.
Even in her bemused state, D'Arcy noticed how many people hailed Keele and how many of the women glared at her. D'Arcy was drowning in her own misery, too much to react to the feminine glowers, but not so much that the fact that they existed escaped her.
The comedy was good, their seventh row seats allowing them to catch every nuance. At the intermission, Keele introduced her to several of the obviously envious women and their escorts.
"This is D'Arcy Kincaid, my fiancée and also the woman who is doing the article on Athene Ltd. for DAY magazine." Keele smiled at the ohs and ahs, accepting congratulations and best wishes with aplomb.
"Keele, darling, you married? I don't believe you will allow that to happen. It might make you boring." A stunning blonde, tiny and sleek, cooed this to him, grasping his arm and staring at D'Arcy with a mixture of disbelief and distaste.
"Is that what happened to you, Mrs. Bolle?" D'Arcy inquired, a smile pinned to her lips.
"I'm divorced, dear," Marianne Bolle responded, not liking it when Keele disentangled himself from her and placed a possessive arm around D'Arcy.
"Come along, Marianne," a man called Hudson said.
"I'm coming. But first I must ask why Keele hasn't given you a ring, dear." Marianne pouted as if sympathetic.
"D'Arcy prefers to choose her ring. We haven't done that yet," Keele said.
"My dear, how silly of you." Marianne pretended shock. "Keele has impeccable taste. I can vouch for that." She whirled away on the arm of her escort, leaving D'Arcy clenching and unclenching her hands.
"I would be grateful if you wouldn't trot out your entire stable of mistresses for me to see." D'Arcy spoke through her teeth as they resumed their seats.
"Oh? What makes you think that Marianne is—or ever was—my mistress?" Keele asked, a glitter in those yellow eyes.
"I'm not that stupid," D'Arcy answered, her tones lofty, wishing he had denied it outright. She wouldn't have believed him, but she wanted the denial anyway. "I'm sure you don't give passing strangers jewelry."
"You're right there," Keele said, then sank low in his seat as the curtain lifted.
Dining was like a trip to Maxime's, D'Arcy thought. A deferential French-speaking waiter informed them of the choice that evening. And the music and entertainment were strictly "Paris!" When D'Arcy mentioned this to Keele, he shrugged and smiled.
"I wouldn't know. The only city in France I have visited is Paris," she said in a stiff voice. "That's one of the penalties of being middle' class, we don't travel on a whim."
Keele steepled his hands in front of him, smiling at D'Arcy, his lips derisive. "And that's another mark against me I'm sure, that I've had enough money to see the world and back again. I also speak five languages and understand quite a few more. I can give you more evidence of my disreputable character, D'Arcy."
Her lips twitched, but she kept her eyes fixed on the clam shell floating in her birdbath-sized bowl. "I don't know how I'll eat all of this. The portions are huge." She spooned some of the liquid into her mouth, letting her eyes close. "It is very, very good."
Keele looked at her. "Changing the subject are we? Good. I didn't relish tying myself to the stake and watching you run for a burning torch."
"Martyr," she murmured, breaking a hot crusty roll.
Keele gave a soft burst of laughter, making her smile. When he sucked in a breath and grasped her hand she was startled. He pressed a kiss into her palm, and she gasped. "No matter what happens, I know I'll never be bored by you, D'Arcy."
When their waiter brought the silver tray banked with pastries, D'Arcy sadly had to shake her head no. She sighed. "I'm a chocaholic, you see," she explained, wincing as she looked at the éclairs and German chocolate cake. "No room."
Keele laughed again and ordered the cheese board for himself and brandy for them both.
When D'Arcy turned the snifter in her hands, the liquor seemed to take on a jewel tone as the candlelight refracted off it. "Keele, I will do this job for you, but I think this joke about an engagement has gone far..."
"It's no joke, D'Arcy. We're getting married," Keele pronounced in measured tones, looking at her over the lip of his snifter. "Don't try to fight me on this. You won't win."
"But why?" she hissed at him, taking a sip of the cognac, then coughing.
"Many reasons. Pick one." Keele shrugged his shoulders.
"You're crazy," she muttered, suddenly feeling a great desire to be married to him, suddenly wishing that she could have a home with him. The thought stunned her and she took another gulp of brandy.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you do not gulp forty-year-old cognac?" Keele looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"Don't tell me what to do," D'Arcy mumbled, feeling the heat of the brandy course through her. Perhaps she could just be engaged to him for a little while. It could be quite lovely. With that satisfying thought she sat back in her chair and smiled at the man sitting opposite her.
And when she leaned forward to take one green grape from the cheese board, Keele grasped her left hand.
She was looking at his face in an inquiring way when she felt the cold metal slipped onto her finger. "But... but you said that I would prefer to choose..." D'Arcy sputtered, looking from Keele's face to the marquise shaped emerald that seemed to dwarf her hand.
"Marianne Bolle is not privileged to know our business. Besides I had that ring made for you. It reminds me of your eyes."
"And it's the same size as one of my eyes too," she mumbled, moving her hand to catch the light. Then something he said penetrated. "You had this made? When?"
Keele shrugged. "It's not hard to get things done."
"Not for you at any rate," she answered tartly, vaguely aware that he hadn't answered her question.
She left the restaurant in a haze, barely aware of the walk they took to Arthur's. The dancing was in full spate. It surprised D'Arcy to notice that some of the celebrities she recognized were not nearly as tall in real life as they seemed to be on the movie screen or on television. Most of them stopped to speak to Keele, who was friendly but not encouraging. When they rose to dance, D'Arcy felt the ghosts of their past, and trembled.
The shudder that shook her made Keele lean back from her. "That wasn't from the cold. What is it, D'Arcy?"
"I was thinking of the night we met," she said through lips gone stiff.
Keele folded her closer, his body bent over her as a shield. "You're remembering Alessio, aren't you?" He felt the nod of her head against his chest. "Don't think of him! He was a bastard! If he hadn't been killed, I think I would have done the job myself. I can still hear your whimpers when I began to make love to you as though you expected me to be the swine that he had been with you."
Heat rose in her body as his lips slid down her cheek. She could almost feel again the awesome joy she had experienced with Keele, those many years ago in London:
She loved Keele Petrakis. She had loved him in London and she loved him still. She was sure there was no way on earth that they could be happy with one another with so much between them, yet she knew with a blinding certainty that there was nothing more on earth that she wanted than to be his wife. She wanted to lie with him and feel that warm, secure river of delight that only he could give her.
"You weren't frightened with me, were you, darling?" His husky question was muttered into her hair.
"No." She tried twice before the simple negative could pass her lips. The breath left her body as his arms tightened on her. It seemed the natural thing to do to lift her face and place her mouth against his neck.
"God, darling, let's get out of here. We'll go to my apartment," Keele growled, his heart thudding under her cheek.
A measure of sanity came back to D'Arcy as he began leading her from the floor. "No," she whispered, her voice thick, fighting to keep her equilibrium. "I... we can't. You said we were going to dance, that we were going to celebrate."
"We can celebrate in bed." Keele stared down at her, his eyes liquid and leaping with heat.
"No, don't rush me. I want to break the news to Sean and Henry and Adelaide first." She saw a look of violence in his face, then he seemed to wrestle himself into composure.
"Don't play games with me, D'Arcy. It was pretty strong stuff between us. That hasn't changed. I want you and I want you now." He looked down into her eyes and after a long summing up, he sighed. "All right, you win. Tonight we dance and I take you straight home, but we're getting married, D'Arcy, and soon. I've waited too long as it is." He steered her back to their table and poured Dom Perignon into a glass for her. "To us, my little wildfire, and to our life together, which should be very interesting." He smiled at her, but his eyes had the look of lode ore again.
D'Arcy swallowed and lifted her glass.
They danced into the wee hours. It seemed to her that Keele drank a great deal though it didn't appear to affect him, outside of the glitter that grew in his eyes. Once she caught him staring at her, brooding menace in that look, and she shivered.
When he left her at her door, his kiss was hard and bruising. She tasted blood in the inside of her mouth.
The relief at being alone was so great that her whole body shook with it. She was bone tired but when she did get into bed, her eyes stayed open as though they were frozen.
The next morning when she looked out her window at the New York skyline, the day was as gray as her spirit. Rain slanted against the glass, making her think of tears. She hadn't slept, but she didn't feel tired. She felt as though she were being wheeled into surgery and that the doctor had informed her there would be no anesthesia.
She used more makeup than usual, trying to cover the pallor of her skin.
The early train out to her town was almost empty and she pulled her battered car into the Kincaids' driveway just as Henry was reaching down to pick up the paper from the doorstep.
"D'Arcy! What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in town for a few days."
"I was." She reached up to kiss her uncle before passing him to enter the house.
Sean saw her almost at once and as usual had much to tell her. "I don't have to go to school yet,
Mommy. Did you come to kiss me goodbye?"
"Yes, I did, but I also wanted to talk to you before you went to school, love."
She held Sean on her lap and sipped the coffee Adelaide had poured for her. She had a hard time looking at the two persons who were so close to her, aware of their worried gaze. "Sean, you always told me that you would like a father. Isn't that so?"
The little boy nodded, leaning back against her. Then he shot up straight. "Have you found my daddy?"
"I'm going to marry someone who will be your father," D'Arcy announced, her lips waxlike. She heard the surprised sounds coming from Henry and Adelaide.
"Will I like him?" Sean asked, trying to feed a crust of toast to his cat and laughing when the dog took it instead.
"Yes, I think so," D'Arcy answered, hearing the uncertainty in the hollowness of her voice.
"All right then," Sean answered, slipping from her lap and running to the front door. "Jimmy's mommy is here. Where's my lunch?"
The flurry of his departing gave D'Arcy a few moments to pull herself together before Henry and Adelaide followed her back to the sitting room.
Henry cleared his throat. "Now, D'Arcy honey, I don't want you to think I'm prying, but are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Yes." She smiled, a mere lifting of one side of her mouth. "I know what I'm doing. The man's name is Keele Petrakis and we're engaged. See." She held out the hand with the exquisite emerald, her smile widening as Adelaide gasped. Henry was still frowning.
"You've never mentioned this man to us before, D'Arcy." He pushed tobacco into his pipe, his movements jerky.
"I know. Please trust me. There are some things that I haven't told you, but you must know that I would never do anything that would in any way hurt Sean."
"We know that, dear," Adelaide soothed.
"And how about you? Your happiness is important, too, D'Arcy. Don't just marry a man because Sean needs a father." Henry spoke slowly, his voice brusque.
"I love him." D'Arcy swallowed, the words seeming strange.
Henry let out an explosive sigh. "That's good. I just hope he's good enough for you, my dear. I want you to be happy."