“Now, chéri, you wait here and I’ll drive the Citroën out.”
Reuben watched her run ahead, imagining her bottom jiggling deliciously under her sable coat. He could feel the heat between his legs, feel himself stiffening. Before allowing himself to think twice, he was running after her, overtaking her just as she was about to open the wide barn door.
“I want you here, now!” he said hoarsely.
She continued to open the door as though she hadn’t heard him. Reuben’s heart fell; feelings of inadequacy welled in him. Why was she so uninterested? Had his inexperience been so obvious the night before? Hadn’t he pleased her? He followed her into the shadowy barn.
The combination of sweet-smelling hay and Reuben’s manly scent was so heady. Her own breathing was as labored as his when she finally spoke.
“Here? In the barn? Like animals?” She turned to look at him, felt his gaze pierce her, felt the intensity of that gaze tingle her spine and quiver through her thighs. “You want to fuck me? Or do you want to make love to me: Animals or lovers, Reuben? Which?” Her voice was throaty, deep inside her chest, the tone suggestive, provoking. Actually she didn’t care how he wanted it, only that he wanted her. Immediately upon awakening she had wanted him, wondering what he thought of her, wondering if he found her woman enough to slake those irrepressible passions he’d unleashed the night before. Was her waist slim enough, her skin smooth enough? Did her breasts please him? Her sex? Would he ever want her again?
“Like an animal,” Reuben said. “Against the wall. Standing up. Now,” he insisted, pushing her backward.
“Is this how Americans do things? In barns, in awkward positions?” she purred, already anticipating the feel of him between her legs, stirred by the powers of her own femininity that he would want her again and this time would be the aggressor.
“I don’t know what Americans do, and I don’t care. This is what I want to do.” He moved toward her, hands reaching to span her waist, pulling her against him, feeling her flesh yield.
“Then do it!” Mon Dieu! It was as though she’d unleashed a sleeping tiger within herself. She let her hands brush open his overcoat and pulled at the buttons on his trousers, reaching through the soft wool to find him. Her breathing came in quick, hard gasps. His hands were raising her skirt, searching for the fullness of her thighs, groping for the hot bare flesh exposed at the top of her stockings. He laughed when he slid his hands around to her buttocks, slipping them beneath the lace edges of her panties. The sound was sly, amused, satisfied at finding her bare skin.
“Do you think you are the only one with strong passions, chéri?” she asked, grazing the flesh of his belly with her finger, searching for and capturing that which would be her prize. “I anticipated this, and if you hadn’t followed me in here, I would have called you in, saying the Citroën wouldn’t start.” A smile played across her lips as she continued. “I, too, know what I want, and I want you. Reuben. I want you. Fuck me! Fuck me, now!”
“Then open your eyes,” he ordered as he pressed her onto the nearest hay bale. “I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”
Mickey leaned back, obeying him. He pulled away her panties, picked up her legs, and wrapped them around his waist, exposing her to his plunder. Gazing upon her open, waiting sex, he felt himself stretch almost beyond the limits of his control. “Keep watching…” His voice was a gravelly whisper now. “Look,” he ordered again as he drove into her fully, in one long, quick motion.
“Quickly, chéri, for I cannot stand it. Faster! Faster,” she moaned, all the while watching their wild, wonderful, unbearable joining. When he withdrew from her a little so she could see him hard and glistening, she pulled him back, urging him onward. One last violent thrust and both cried out at the same time.
“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!” Mickey raked her fingers through his crisp dark hair. “We are animals!” she cried in a voice she barely recognized as her own.
“Was it good for you?” Reuben asked. Suddenly he was unsure of himself, worried that it might have been over too quickly, that he’d slaked his thirst for her too greedily.
Mickey smiled as she smoothed down her dress and rearranged her clothes. “Cheri, don’t ever ask that of a woman, for she may lie to you. There are many who pretend. You must know, here”—she thumped her breast—“if you pleased me or not. Do you think you pleased me?”
“I know I pleased you now,” Reuben groused good-naturedly. “I know you liked it because I watched you. I saw your face and it was beautiful.”
“Ah, yes, because you filled me with yourself. Yes, chéri, it was wild and wonderful, the exquisite release. I wanted more. I always want more. You will never be able to give me all I want,” she warned softly.
Reuben’s neck grew warm. “Would Madame care to place a small wager?”
Mickey looked deeply into his eyes. “No,” she said simply. “I think you may be the exception, and that frightens me.”
Reuben’s first driving lesson was exhilarating. He drove the roadster as though it were a windup toy, whipping it around corners, over ruts and gouges in the road, with no mind to the speed he was traveling. He laughed uproariously as Mickey blessed herself over and over. She cursed him, screaming for him to drive in a straight line. “We are not going to hell, chéri, at least not today. Slow! This is supposed to be pleasurable, not miserable. You are making my teeth ache!”
Reuben continued to laugh as he put the touring car through its paces. When at last he braked by the side of the rutted road, he pulled her to him. “All you had to do was say: ‘Stop! I want to make love with you again,’ and I would have stopped.” He kissed her soundly, passionately. Her quickened breathing made Reuben smile. When he released her, she gasped.
“You had my life in your hands, Reuben,” she said, trying to sound severe. “If you care to place yourself in danger, that is your decision. Do not take liberties with my life. Start the engine and I will take liberties with you. Start the engine!”
When the Citroën began to move forward, Mickey foraged into the folds of his overcoat and then into his trousers. He was delicious, this one, she thought as she lowered her head onto his lap. Before she took him into her mouth she ordered, “Now drive as you should.”
Reuben’s foot pressed the accelerator the same moment her mouth closed over him. For what seemed an eternity, he felt himself being hurled forward, racing toward an unreachable destination. He didn’t know if he was driving on the road or had left the earth entirely, shooting off into space. All he knew was the pleasure of being in her mouth. When he shuddered again and again, reason overrode passion and he braced himself against the brake pedal, grinding the car to a halt.
“Mon Dieu!” he moaned as Mickey began to laugh.
“Now it is my turn, Reuben. and I will request your full attention.”
“My pleasure,” Reuben answered. He would do whatever pleased her.
“And mine.” Turning toward the back of the car, she threw her sable over the seat and scrambled after it. Reuben quickly followed the length of her silky leg and the promise of her favors. After nestling deep into the fur, Mickey ran her fingers through his hair as she searched for and found his mouth with her own. Oh, how she loved the feel of him, the touch of him! The way his lips evoked a cry in her throat and how his fingers had learned and knew her body almost better than her own.
He was tall and slim and hard-muscled. Her greedy fingers could not touch him enough, her hungry mouth ached to taste every morsel of his flesh. And always there were the words: beautiful and loving, praising her beauty, adoring her passion, filling her head and warming her heart, throbbing through her and creating an aching need for him.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind and logic, she knew she was being wanton, even barbaric. But she didn’t care. All she cared about were the slim hips poised above her and the honeyed words falling from his lips.
His mouth sought hers; his strong, sinewy arms locked her in an urgent yet tender e
mbrace. Wave after wave of desire coursed through her as she answered his kisses, her tongue darting into the depths of his mouth. Her hands caressed and stroked his back, bringing him closer still. Her breasts were taut, their pink crests hard nubs beneath his palms. Soft moans of ecstasy escaped her parted lips as he proved himself to be an artful lover.
His thighs twined with hers, and she was completely aware of his body and the driving desire he held for her. A deep wave of yearning spread through her belly. Drawing up her knees, she yielded herself to him, inviting their union.
Her eyes opened, bathing him with the splendor of her passions. Every turn and curve of her body was a song, a lyric poem. And when she whispered the pleasure she took in him, her voice was deep and husky, reminding him that she was a woman like no other.
Together they found the culmination of their desires. Together they breathed as one, falling, drowning in the sea of their desires.
They lay together on the rich Barguzin sable for a long time, touching each other. There were no words; none were necessary, all had been said and experienced.
It was dusk when Mickey heard Reuben’s stomach rumble ominously. “Mon Dieu! What kind of woman am I? I gave you no lunch,” she cried unhappily.
“You fed me in other ways,” Reuben said quietly. “Mickey, I have never—”
Mickey placed a gentle finger over Reuben’s lips. “Shhh, do not say the words. It is too soon, and I don’t know if you should ever say them. This is now, chéri. Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow will take care of themselves. Words, my darling, can wound one’s soul if they do not come from the heart. Always remember that. During lovemaking it is allowed,” she added hastily. “Often one lover will say sweet words to the other because that is what they think they want to hear. It is better to say nothing. Do you understand, chéri?”
“Yeah, sure,” Reuben said, sounding for all the world like a chastened schoolboy.
“Do not pout, chéri. These things must be said now so there is no hurt to either of us later. You must understand the difference between love and lust. There is a very big difference. Someday you will love a woman so much you will want to offer her your soul. Lust is a mingling of two people for the moment. Lust is when a man or a woman walks away and never looks back. Love is when a man or a woman looks back and…smiles.”
Reuben’s mood turned sour. “Have you ever loved like that?” He hated asking the question, but he had to know.
“But of course, chéri,” Mickey lied smoothly. “But of course.”
Reuben ground his teeth together so hard he thought his jaw would crack. Angrily he climbed back into the driver’s seat and threw the roadster in gear. Mickey was jerked forward unexpectedly, forced to hang on for dear life as the car roared down the road. But she hardly noticed how fast Reuben was driving, so intent was she on the blinding tears in her eyes.
Chapter Five
The days leading up to Thanksgiving passed swiftly. The dinner hour was the end of a busy day that began at dawn. The Three Musketeers met, dined, and talked. Daniel was full of praise for Pierre Faroux and regaled Mickey and Reuben nightly with his accomplishments. Once or twice, so pleased was Pierre with his pupil’s progress, he stayed to dinner to assure Mickey that she’d made the right decision about Daniel. He was so quick, so bright! Faroux insisted his pupil had already far surpassed what Americans required for a high school diploma and was now plowing through college-level material.
Reuben beamed like a proud father when he listened to discussions on law and other matters. It was clear that Daniel was holding his own and several times bested the old Frenchman with queries he couldn’t respond to. Daniel’s thirst for knowledge was being sated at last.
If Daniel was aware of the change in Reuben and Mickey, he gave no sign. He was so caught up in his studies, he was almost oblivious to their private little exchanges. When he noticed the hand touching, the knowing smiles, the intimate glances, he was pleased for his friend.
It was a glorious time for Reuben as well as for Mickey. They were together constantly, taking care of the château, working companionably in the barn with the animals, seeing to the massive wine cellars, and always making love at any time of the day in any given place. Theirs was a robust, spontaneous relationship in which both of them reveled. Often they’d walk for hours, their hands entwined, overseeing this task or that domestic problem.
It wasn’t only Daniel who was receiving an education. In subtle ways and often in blunt, forthright words, Mickey was teaching Reuben the ways of the world. The only difference between Daniel and Reuben was that Reuben didn’t ask questions. Everything Mickey said, everything she alluded to, every nuance, every warning, was tucked away—but not before it was categorized and filed in his brain. He had the wonderful ability to stop and search his mind for a second, then come up with exactly the right answer whenever Mickey quizzed him. He’d laugh when she showed surprise. “I never forget anything.”
“Elephants are like that,” Mickey joked.
The night before Thanksgiving, Mickey presented Reuben with a book that had arrived from America. She had things to do, she said, a surprise, and he should read while she finished her preparations.
Reuben accepted her offering—the latest Zane Grey novel—with pleasure and settled himself in the library with Daniel. He showed Daniel the new book. “It’s a tale of the joining of East and West by rail.”
Daniel looked up long enough to smile, then settled back in his chair, the reading lamp aimed at the book on his lap. Reuben shook his head and smiled at his friend—his learned, literary friend. Then he, too, began to read.
In the kitchens Mickey huddled with the bevy of extra cooks she’d hired from the village. “You understand now, it must be just the way they do it in America. The turkey is to be at least thirty pounds. We have that,” she said, ticking off items on her list. “Chestnut and raisin dressing and candied yams, white potatoes that are mashed, turnips that are also mashed, vegetables fresh from the root cellar, peas, beans, and carrots. I have secured some Echiré butter, the best in the world, and you will make light fluffy dinner rolls that melt in the mouth. They must melt in the mouth because that is what Reuben hungers for. The pies are to have a flaky, delicate crust—pumpkin, mince, pecan, and one berry. Blackberry, I think. We must use canned berries from the storeroom. Do you think he will notice the difference?” she asked the cook fretfully.
“No, madame. It will be perfection.”
“Mon Dieu, I almost forgot the soup. Noodle, and there is something called a noodle pudding that Reuben likes. I have it written down here somewhere. Nanette made the noodles last night. And we must have a garden salad of some sort. You will have to forage in the cellar. If you can’t come up with something that is going to be perfectly fresh, at least make it look pretty. Americans like fresh raw vegetables.” She shrugged to show she herself couldn’t understand. “Fresh ground coffee, but don’t grind the beans until you are ready to boil the water. Tell me, did I overlook anything? Will there be enough time for you to prepare all of this for three o’clock tomorrow?”
“There is no problem, madame. It will be a feast fit for a king!”
“I’ll select the wines now. There must be flowers on the table. The best linen cloth and finest dishes and crystal.”
In the wine cellar Mickey leaned back against one of the huge barrels that hadn’t as yet been tapped. She’d gotten so much pleasure out of arranging this special dinner for Reuben and Daniel. She’d do anything, anything at all to bring a smile to Reuben’s face and that warm, intimate look to his eyes.
These past days had been so exquisite. She would no longer fool herself.
She was in love with the young American, deeply in love. And expert that she was in the ways of men, she felt he, too, was in love with her—for now. Yet she refused to listen to his pleadings and his vows of eternal love. Of course, they were words she wanted to hear, words she would remember and dream about when he was gone. Because one day,
all too soon, he would return to his own land, where he belonged. Until then each day, each hour, was to be lived to the fullest.
She wondered if the arrival next week of Bebe Rosen—the daughter of her American cousin Sol Rosen—would affect her relationship with Reuben. Certainly she and Reuben would have to give up most of their private time to entertain the visitor from California. Already Mickey felt jealous. Bebe would be vivacious and pretty. If she was anything like Mickey had been at her age, she would flirt with Reuben, try to play boy-girl games with him. And what would she, Mickey, do? Stand by and eat herself up with jealousy? Perhaps she was being unfair. Bebe might be a bookworm like Daniel, or she might be shy and keep to herself…. Not likely, since she was Sol’s daughter and—from Sol’s own description—spoiled rotten. Sol had said she was a brat, a willful, spoiled young woman who pouted and finagled and manipulated till she got what she wanted. In other words, a handful.
Bebe’s skin would be smooth and flawless without the need of rouge and mascara. She’d be lithe and shapely, wearing the latest in American fashion. And she’d be able to talk to Reuben about things in America. They would have so many things in common, mainly their youth.
What would Reuben think when he saw the two women side by side, the fresh-faced girl and the middle-aged woman he was living with? Her heart thudded in her chest. If it was going to happen, let it happen now before Reuben’s hold on her became so overpowering she’d do foolish things to keep him. At the beginning of the affair she’d sworn to herself that she’d never do anything to mar her dignity. As Marchioness Michelene Fonsard, she had an image to protect. When Reuben finally left her he’d remember her that way, not as some midinette begging him to stay, offering him money, anything so he wouldn’t leave. The thought made her cringe.
No, she would not let her fears run away with her…or her jealousy. Jealousy could destroy. If there was one thing she didn’t want to do, it was destroy what she had right now. She would treat Bebe kindly and gently, the same way she treated Daniel. Tonight she would pray that the young girl would find Daniel an engrossing companion.
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