A ruling passion : a novel (46 page)

Lily's face cleared. 'Tes, I do." She knelt beside Sybille and laid her head on Sybille's knee. "How wonderftil you are to know that. And how unselfish of you. Thank you for being so good to me; you make me so happy I can't imagine how I got along without you. Rudy was sweet and he was good to me and I loved him, but he didn't understand me very well, he didn't know anything at all about clothes, and I think he really didn't want me to preach. And you do, you know how important it is to me; you're working so hard to make it possible, and in a cathedral; it's all a dream..." She raised her head and looked at

Sybille with shining eyes. "I love you so much, Sybille. Thank you for loving me."

Sybille put her hand on Lily's smooth white-blond hair. 'Tou've helped me find the goodness in myself."

Lily's face became radiant. "Have I? But you were always good; I knew that. But if I've helped you, oh, how wonderful..."

Gradually Sybille moved away and stood up. "We'll have dinner in twenty minutes; you'd better clean up."

"Yes," Lily said. She was still sitting on the floor, her eyes level with the white dresses, belts, sashes, lace cuffs and shoes on the bed beside her. She sighed, and then she too stood. She went to Sybille and kissed her lighdy—she knew Sybille hated to be touched—and then, with a gentle smile, she left the room.

For months, from New Year's Eve to the first crisp weekend in October, Sybille did not see Carlton Sterling alone, even after she bought CrossHatch Farms near Leesburg. At forty acres it was ridiculously small, and much too far from Middleburg, but she was in a hurry to buy something and become part of Loudoun County, and she considered it a first step to the grander estate she deserved.

In August, she invited the people she had met at Valerie's New Year's party to a catered dinner in her two-story white frame house, but Carlton did not come; he was in Canada, Valerie said, on a fishing trip. And then, in October, there was a fox hunt in the fields near Purcellville, and, at the lavish breakfast that began the day, Sybille found Carlton at a table on the veranda, momentarily alone.

"May I—?" she asked, holding the plate she had filled at the buffet. "Or are you waiting for someone?"

"A cheerful smile," he said, pulling back the chair beside him. "That's what I need most, this early in the morning."

Sybille smiled. "How was your fishing trip?" she asked, sitting down and reaching for the coffeepot that stood in the center of the table.

"Fishing?"

"In Canada."

"Oh, last month. It was good. Walleyed pike and bass; do you fish?"

"No. Well, yes; sometimes for compliments, and always for audiences."

He looked starded, then began to laugh. "I remember: you're so honest. I like that. Val's the same way; took me a while to get used to it. What kind of audiences? For yourself?"

"For my programs. I've never cared about audiences for myself, being on camera, that sort of thing. It seems so... fake... talking to a camera as if you were about to take it to bed—"

Carlton gave a nervous laugh. "Sounds uncomfortable."

"Well, someone once told me a good television personality makes love to the camera. I don't know exacdy what that means, but it sounds like something I'd be ashamed of"

"Val does it, you know," he said abrupdy.

"She does? Still? Oh, I'm sorry; I had no idea she was still doing it, I thought she'd outgrown... oh, damn, why can't I keep my mouth shut? Carl, I'm so sorry; I'd never say anything against Valerie; I think she's wonderful. I've looked up to her all my life."

"Have you? She thinks you don't like her."

Sybille stared at him. "She thinks I don^t — "

A couple came to their table, carrying heaping plates. "You two plotting something illicit?" one of them asked jovially.

"No such luck," Carlton said with an easy laugh. "Come on; sit with us. We were talking about fishing."

Sybille picked at her smoked pheasant and cheese souffle, half listening to the talk around her, occasionally glancing at Carlton. Once she met his eyes and, flushing, looked quickly away. When, at last, the couple rose, saying they would stroll a bit before the hunt began, she kept her eyes lowered.

"Thank God," said Carlton cheerfully. "The dullest couple in Loudoun County. Pity we had to get them. You looked thoroughly bored."

"I was rude," Sybille said in a low voice. "I hope I didn't embarrass you; I just kept wishing they'd leave."

"Well, they did, and you didn't embarrass me. Why would you? I'm not the host."

"Because they're your friends."

"Not mine. And not Val's. Our hosts' friends, I assume, though God knows why?"

'*Why does Valerie think I don't like her?"

"Have you been brooding about that? I shouldn't have said it; stupid of me. It was just something Val said a while back. New Year's, I guess; nothing major; I probably got it wrong."

"But what did she say? It's not true that I don't like her! She knows that! I love her; I always have. She's like my older sister; I think she's the most wonderful... What did she say about me?"

He sighed. "Something about you never getting over something at

Stanford. She didn't say what, but what difference does it make? It's ancient history, and pretty childish, if you ask me; and I don't believe it, anyway. In fact, I'm sure I heard it wrong and I apologize for babbling about it. Tell me I'm forgiven."

Sybille's pale-blue eyes held his. "Of course you're forgiven. I couldn't be angry at you. Ever since we met I've felt something—I feel foolish saying this, please don't laugh at me—I've felt as if I've known you before and trusted you not to hurt me."

"Good God." He sat straight, distancing himself from her. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." She pushed back her chair. "I'm sorry I said that; I knew it would sound foolish. I'm not usually mystical; I'm very practical. But there was something about our meeting I couldn't be cold and rational about. I would have kept quiet, but you said you liked my honesty..."

"Wait, I do like your honesty. I like you. But what did you mean?"

She made a small, helpless gesture with her hand. "I meant that it's hard to find anyone to trust. Don't you think so? There are so many unknowns, pitfalls..."

"That doesn't tell me what you meant."

"Oh... I'm not very smart about men. I think there must be something wrong with me. I can't be tough and careful and calculating; I just rush in, all ready to love, wanting so much to be loved..." She turned away. "But it never works out; I always get hurt." She turned back to him and gave a short, hard laugh. "I'm getting pretty tired of it, to tell the truth. Most women find someone to share their lives; why shouldn't I? I don't think I give too much or ask too much; I think I'm pretty normal; I just don't seem to choose men who are right for me. Or I'm not right for them. Maybe it's my fault for not paying more attention and figuring out what they need and then giving it to them. I'm just in such a hurry to find someone to be with, and I can't always bury myself deep enough in work to forget I'm alone. A lot of the time I can, but then all of a sudden something will make me feel such a failure..." She touched the comer of her eye. "I'm sorry, Carl, I didn't mean to spoil your breakfast by whining about myself; of all the things you don't want to hear, that probably heads the list." She looked behind her. "They've all gone! What have I done? Carl, if I've made you miss the hunt, on top of everything else..." She shoved back her chair and stood up. "I've done a great job of ruining what could have been good firiendship, haven't I? I'm so ashamed. I wish I

could go back to the beginning and start this conversation again—"

"Sit down," said Carlton. He was frowning. "Val said you seemed happy with Enderby."

"I was; oh, I was so happy. But it was just at the beginning. After a while he wasn't home much. I didn't know it at the time, but he had another woman. I think it was important to Quentin, at his age, to keep proving how virile he was. I loved him the way he was, but he just couldn't be satisfied with himself, so he kept finding young women, one in particular, but I'm pretty sure there were others. I never even tried to find out; it made me feel so... inadequate. I found out about the one, just before he died. And then he left most of his money to her, and some of it to a preacher he'd met; I suppose he got worried about his soul or something, when he was sick."

"He didn't leave anything to you?"

Sybille shook her head.

"I thought you got the television network."

"Oh. Yes. But it had enormous debts. And even if it didn't, it seemed so cold and unfeeling—a lot of equipment—nothing personal, nothing to show that we'd loved each other."

Carlton thought briefly that there was something wrong with that: why would money seem more personal or loving than a business they'd owned together .> Still, she had touched something deep inside him when she said she'd felt inadequate. He often felt that way with Val. She did everything so well—riding, steeplechase, giving parties, those httle things she did on television, raising money for some cause or other, being a wife—and everyone praised her; he did, too. It was a good thing she never wanted to do anything really serious, he thought. If she did, she'd probably leave him behind in the dust.

'Tou shouldn't feel inadequate," he said to Sybille. "He probably didn't know how to appreciate you, and on top of that he had his own problems, with his illness. It must have been a rotten time for you."

Sybille said nothing. She ran her riding crop slowly through her fingers, as if lost in thought.

"Why did you think I wouldn't hurt you?" Carlton asked.

She looked up again. "I don't think you'd hurt anyone, if you could help it. That first time we talked. New Year's Eve, I felt something special. As if we'd known each other for a long time, and laughed together, maybe even loved each other. Not with passion, but widi... oh, with affection. Closeness. Trust. You know so much more than I do; I had the feeling that I could come to you for advice and comfort

when things were bad, that we could share some of the craziness of the world... that we'd had—or we could have—the kind of love that makes life bearable."

Carlton could not take his eyes from her. "You're an incredible woman."

Slowly, still holding his gaze, she shook her head. "I'm glad you think so. But I think it's just that silly honesty; I can't lie to you, Carl... I can only love... or wish..."

He stood and pulled her up to him, covering her mouth with his, forcing it open, his tongue crushing hers as if he would subdue her by force, though she was not struggling. With a litde sob deep in her throat, Sybille put her arms around him and gave herself up to his kiss with the submission of a child, and the passion of a woman.

Carlton swept her into his arms and carried her across the veranda into the house. "No," Sybille whispered. 'Tour friends... the hunt..."

"They don't need me."

"But this house..."

"... has lots of bedrooms and they're all empty." He laughed, buoyant and excited. "God, Sybille, we've got the whole day. You're very small, you know that? You fit right in my arms, like a litde girl." He climbed the stairs, still holding her, and she snuggled against him, making herself smaller. He turned into the first bedroom off" the landing, a guest room with flowered curtains and flowered armchairs. He laid her on the flowered comforter on the bed, then looked down at her, laughing again. "Damned riding clothes... wait a minute."

He disappeared into the hall and returned a moment later with a boot pull. Sybille had not moved; she lay wide-eyed, waiting for him. ''Now," he said, and pulled off" his boots and clothes, while Sybille lay still, watching. He felt her eyes on him, burning into him; he thought he had never been so excited about a woman. "God, you're a witch," he said, and leaned over her to tear off" her boots and clothes, roughly, flinging them from the bed. Sybille felt his fingers rake her skin as he pulled away her brassiere and silk underpants, and then she gave a long moan and pulled him onto her. She spread her legs and felt him fit himself between them, felt the hairs on his chest as he lay on her breasts. She raised her hips, whispering his name, and he pushed into her. The only sound in the room was their breathing, sharp and quick. Sybille bit the side of Carlton's neck, sucking the skin between her teeth, running her tongue along his perspiration. She felt him shiver as she licked him. She moved her hips in ways she had practiced since college; her breathing grew more rapid, matching Carlton's, and then

he thrust deeply into her, pulled up, and thrust again, and cried out. At just that moment, Sybille too cried out, and then they both lay still.

"Incredible," Carlton murmured. "Incredible litde witch." He lay heavily, crushing her small body beneath his. She made him feel powerful. In a few minutes, very slowly, Sybille began to move her hips in circular motions beneath him, and he raised himself halfway and gazed down at her, at her piercing eyes. "My little witch," he said, and bent again to her mouth. And Sybille sighed, a long, deep sigh of passion. Or perhaps it was satisfaction. Carlton did not wonder which, because he did not think about it. He thought about her body, and the feeling of a little girl in his arms and beneath him, and her low voice saying she knew he would not hurt her.

Carlton had always been too lazy to expend the kind of energy that true intimacy required. He came closest, he thought, with Valerie. But now he was feeling something new. He was transfixed by Sybille En-derby. Something different, he thought, and heard her sigh again. Passion. Or satisfaction. Either way, he knew it was for him, and only for him. She trusted him; she'd hinted that she loved him. And that sigh, and the movements of her hips and hands, roused him as if he were a boy of sixteen. Sybille, he thought exultandy; you're mine.

Nick's days and nights were like the early times at Omega: there was only work and Chad, the exhilaration of creating something new, of learning and doing, of gathering a small staff that worked well together, and developing a list of customers who helped spread his growing reputation. His first act had been to hire two vice-presidents, for news and entertainment, and the three of them had spent the next three months planning a totally new schedule to replace Sybille's. They also had a new name: the E8dSI network.