Christie (36 page)

"I love you with my life, Christie. That will never
change. And if I had my way, we'd never be physically farther apart than we are right now. Oh, love! Your hell is my hell too! And this is the only heaven," he whispered, kissing her softly.

And heaven appeared to be in Christie's eyes as she kissed him back. Then she asked, "Garrett? When did you first know you loved me?"

"Very late and long after the fact," he answered, smoothing back the hair at her temples. "The night Adam was born, love, and I was afraid I would lose you. I was terrified into coming to my senses. And you? When?"

"Our wedding night and the next morn," she whispered. They were both silent for a moment as they remembered the details of that time.

Then, in each other's embrace, they talked, for a while, confessing things felt in past moments together, and presently, when Garrett bit Christie's earlobe, she shyly said, "When you do that, you make me want you again."

He chuckled and took another nip, saying, "Since I'm planning to spend a lifetime making love to you, I'll be sure to remember that. It's my duty, you know, as well as my pleasure as your lover, to find out what makes you tingle," he said, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat. "Shiver," he added, running a finger around her ear, "and purr." His hands traveled down to softer flesh.

As if on command, Christie did make a purring sound, and Garrett laughed lightly.

Then, wide-eyed, she asked him, "And what about you? Shall I learn what gives
you
pleasure? Will you teach me?"

"Yes,"—he smiled—"as well as all the other ways that I may please you." His fingers touched the tip on one lush breast.

"All?" she asked. "Are there many?"

"Yes," he answered, his mouth moving to her neck.

"And will we begin right now?" she whispered, a broad smile on her lips.

"Yes."

The fire burned once again between them, and they made their magic in each other's arms.

They remained in their rooms, secluded, for three days, shutting the world out, making their own world together. Only when their son cried his hunger would they interrupt this seclusion, for then Garrett, clad in his robe, would go to the nursery, take the babe from a smiling Lula, and carry him to his wife who usually sat in the bed wrapped only in a sheet and fed the child. During these tender moments she would croon a lullaby as she suckled the babe while Garrett lay close by, watching and knowing the total peace he felt within him. Also through Lula, Garrett had their meals sent up to them and baths made ready when they felt inclined to take them.

They were absorbed totally in each other, sleeping little, talking much, touching and holding and loving, their glad bodies speaking for them where words left off.

It was approaching evening on the third day when Garrett at last said to Christie, "I could remain this way with you forever, but do you think we should let poor Jesse know we're still alive and grace him with
our presence for dinner?"

They were on the bed, Christie propped up against some pillows, Garrett lying with his head in her lap as he played with a lock of her hair.

"Hmmm," answered Christie, "I suppose we should, and since dinner can't last
too
long, and since the dining room isn't
that
far from this bed . . . maybe I could endure it." She giggled. "But I hope Jess will forgive me if I look only at you the whole time."

Garrett laughed as he sat up, turning to plant a light kiss on her mouth. "And with me looking only at you, Brother Jess is bound to have a hard time of it. But we can take pity on him and throw him an occasional word or two. Wait here. I'll tell Lula to tell them we'll be coming down."

So they went downstairs to dine, and when Jesse greeted them at the table, the twinkle in his eyes and the grin on his face caused Christie to blush and Garrett to give him a remonstrative look. But then the younger brother went to Christie and gave her an affectionate hug, after which he placed a communicative arm on Garrett's shoulders.

"I've taken the liberty of ordering some special accouterments to tonight's dinner, as a celebration— of joy," said Jesse smiling at them. "We'll begin with a bottle of that '62 Bordeaux, or maybe two bottles, because there are two other people I wish to toast." "Who?" asked Christie, her eyes on Garrett as he seated her.

"Lula and Laughing Bear are to be married a fortnight hence in a double ceremony—once by Sinclair, then again by the Cherokee custom."

"Oh, it's wonderful!" cried Christie. "I love them both—such dear friends! But where is Laughing Bear? And we must fetch Lula right now!"

"Easy, easy." Jesse laughed. "As a matter of fact, Laughing Bear is on his way. I've invited him for dinner. Now, Lula poses a small problem. As a servant at Riverlea, she's been taking her meals with the rest of the help, and that is probably as it should

Christie frowned.

"However, as Laughing Bear's future wife, she should be welcome at our table as a guest. Once they wed, she will live at the village, anyway, so, hoping the rest of the staff will understand, I've asked her to join us tonight also. I hope you both concur?"

"But definitely," said Garrett, looking at his smiling wife.

Christie clapped her hands together gleefully. "Oh, but this
is
a happy occasion!"

Just then, they heard a noise in the hall, and Lula and Laughing Bear entered. They were both clad in the manner of the Cherokee, wearing soft doeskin leggings, with the brave dressed in a matching fringed shirt and Lula, a long tunic of similar design. On their feet were soft moccasins of the same leather, and each wore a wide beaded bracelet which was an exact copy of the other's.

"Oh, you're beautiful!" trilled Christie, rising to greet them. Then she ran to Lula and gave her a squeeze while Garrett stood and offered the brave his hand.

"Welcome, friends," said Garrett. "You honor our table." He put an arm around Christie's waist. "This
is a house of joy tonight, as it will be in the future. And I begin to realize," he said, looking down at his wife in quiet adoration, "that nothing so multiplies happiness as the sharing of it with others."

"Sounds like the entree to a toast," said Jesse. "Come, sit. We've good bread to break and a flagon or two of wine to drink before this night's over."

And so they sat together, sharing good feelings as well as good food, but much of the time, as she had predicted, Christie found her eyes on her husband, and his on her. It was during those moments she found it hard to keep her mind on the conversation, for her thoughts would slip to their recent time together and when she saw his eyes, she knew Garrett was thinking the same.

Lula looked happy and spoke very little, but from time to time she would cast fond looks at Laughing Bear. The brave seemed not to look at her at all, but at certain brief moments Christie would notice him dart a glance at the black woman so quick as to be almost imperceptible, and at these times the muscles around his mouth would break ever so slightly into a suggestion of a smile, leaving Lula looking even more radiant and happy.

At one point the discussion took a notably interesting turn. It was Laughing Bear who brought up the topic.

"Tell me, Brother," said the brave, "what matter was it that took you to England last year? Was it the search?"

"Yes, it was," answered Garrett, "but it led me to a blind end."

Then he told them of the two agents who had
worked as middlemen for Harper's unknown competitor, of Cutwell's untimely end, and of how his search for the other led him to England. During his explanation, Christie watched him carefully, noting in silent wonder, how utterly relaxed he seemed as he spoke, with none of the former hardening of his jaw muscles or tensing of his cheeks when he spoke of his quest. Jesse noticed this too, smiling softly as he listened, looking from Garrett to Christie, and then back to Garrett again.

"When I left New York, I traveled briefly
to
Virginia," continued Garrett, with a soft smile
aimed
directly at his wife, "and then to Charleston where I looked up, and located, Cutwell's widow. There I learned the name of the second man, Henry Blakely, and that Blakely left for England a week after Cutwell's death, vowing never to return, acting as if the devil himself were at his back.

"In London, after much difficulty, I at last reached my dead end. I found out from Blakely's brother that poor Henry had suffered the same fate as Cutwell, less than
a
month after he had arrived there. That was when I returned home."

"A dead end, to be sure," said Jesse, "but it does tend to verify one thing; someone who knew both Cutwell and Blakely, and was very desperate to keep them silent, must be at the root of everything. Whoever hired those two must be our man."

"Exactly," said Garrett. "And although my New York and London trips served to narrow things down, I'm afraid we're really no closer than before in determining the identity of the guilty man. He apparently was very effective in covering his trail."

"Will you embark on further searches now?" asked Laughing Bear.

"I have no plans to do so," said Garrett, giving Christie a loving and meaningful look. "There is too much to keep me at home now."

Christie returned her husband's look with one of
t
otal adoration. Then she said, "But Garrett, perhaps
you can secure additional help from Carlisle's
investigators in finding out whom those men worked
for. You will not quit the search entirely?"

"No," he said, smiling at her. "As long as my wife has some, interest in pursuing it, as she apparently does, I will not abandon the effort altogether. But I am at last prepared for the possibility that I may never gain my end. And if that be so, I may sometimes wonder why, but never again will I cease to live because of it. Life is too sweet to waste."

All were silent for a moment as the full impact of Garrett's words sank in, and Christie felt very close to tears, wishing she could be alone with her husband just then.

At length, Jesse cleared his throat, saying, "Not to deliberately change the subject, but I wanted to bring up something else of concern to all of us. Yesterday, while I was out riding Thunder to exercise him, and one of the stable boys went with me on Gypsy, someone took a shot at us down near the river. Came pretty close, too. The bullet 'sang' near my ear."

"Someone shot at you on Randall land? For God's sake, Jess, and you only mention it now?" Garrett's voice was incredulous.

"Easy, Garrett. It happened yesterday, and there
wasn't a way in the world that I was going where you were to tell you that," said Jesse with a significant look.

Garrett seemed to calm down a bit then, and asked, "Well, did you at least trace the shots, see where they came from?"

"Could it have been a careless hunter who was lost?" asked Christie.

"Not likely, that far inside Riverlea's boundaries," answered Garrett.

"True," added Jesse. "And I did do some tracking, but with no results. Whoever it was, probably used the river to travel or crossed it in such a way as to make tracking difficult. I found no traces."

"Well, perhaps we ought to take a second look around tomorrow, with several men, just in case. Laughing Bear, will you come?" Garrett asked.

The brave agreed, and the conversation moved to other things. Millie came to tell Christie Adam was up and hungry, and as it was late, Christie made her good nights and went upstairs.

It was close to midnight when Garrett came up to their room. Christie was sitting at her dressing table wearing the soft blue gown she had worn the morning he had carried her to breakfast in the garden. Without turning around, she watched him enter, catching sight of his tall frame in the mirror. Garrett said nothing, but stood near the door and began to remove his jacket and cravat, placing them carefully on a nearby chest. Christie felt her breath quicken when she saw his broad, dark chest, exposed now that his shirt lay open. He continued to undress,
removing his shirt and hanging it neatly over the back of a chair. Since all this was done without a word, Christie began to wonder if something were amiss when he proceeded to yawn and stretch, and walk toward the bed. Turning, she looked at him, an expression of dismay on her face.

"Garrett, is something wrong?" she questioned, her big eyes bewildered.

With a leap, Garrett was across the room at her side, gathering her up in his arms and whirling her around and around, laughing. "Yes, something's wrong! I've not held my wife in several hours and the loss was not to my liking!"

Squealing with laughter, Christie finally calmed down enough to admonish him. "Garrett Randall, you were teasing me! I was sure I had done something to displease you! How brutish to scare me thus!"

"Brutish, am I?" He laughed. "Then I'd best live up to my description!" He began to growl as he nuzzled her neck, then threw her onto the bed and fell on top of her as she shrieked and giggled with giddy delight.

"Christie, Christie! I'm so in love with you, I can't think straight," he said, tangling his hands in her hair as he gazed down at her. "It was all I could do, several times during dinner, not to leave everything and carry you away to this bed. What are you, love? Some goddess, sent down from Olympus to tempt this poor mortal and make him your slave?"

"No," she answered. "Only a poor lass whom the gods favored enough to send me you, and it is I who would gladly be your slave, and lie willingly in velvet chains, and call them loving chains, blessed chains,
sweet chains that tie me to your side."

"Then, come," said Garrett, suddenly acutely conscious of her semi-clad, curving warmth beneath him. "If these be chains—no matter who the slave— let us forge new links between us."

They melted together eagerly, and the cock was heard to crow before they slept—and then only reluctantly . . . very reluctantly.

As the warm, languid days of late spring heralded the hazy heat of the low country summer, the residents of Riverlea immersed themselves in the busy life brought on by that rich, fertile season of growing things, and all were aware of the parallel it found in the ripening bond now existing between the master and mistress of the place. Everyone, from the smallest stableboy to the occupants of the big house itself, could be found with a quick smile and ready laughter as the mood of the plantation reflected that held by its owners. The halls and chambers of the big house, as well as the air for miles around echoed with the sound of Garrett Randall's laughter, and there were many to remark on how free this was from the tone it had borne in earlier times. Stripped of the mockery and bitterness of yore, it now rang with the easy buoyancy of untroubled mirth, an almost boyish sound, clear and joyously free as it signaled its owner a man glad to be alive. And woven throughout its strains was the rippling peal of Christie's gladness, for, indeed, wherever the master might be found, the mistress was rarely far away.

When she was not devoting her energies to the business of caring for their son or lending what slight
supervision was needed toward the well-oiled running of the household, Christie joined her husband in and about the stables and barns where the horses were kept and happily shared in his work, for Garrett had no intention of keeping his wife to what others regarded as "women's work" when her interests ran beyond those bounds. Indeed, he had every intention of making her a full partner in his horse-breeding operation, just as Charles had relied on her proficiency and talents in this regard; and both were delighted by the additional time this allowed them to spend in common.

Their union truly a marriage now, Christie and Garrett each became the embodiment of the other's joy. Garrett devoted himself toward giving her pleasure, though this proved a simple enough task. He 'spoiled her and teased her, pampered and cherished her, tickling her deepest longings and fulfilling her as a woman. In short, he turned every act toward her into an overt expression of love, joyfully reveling in the fact that his complete world lay in the slender person of the wife he once had felt he'd never take.

And if this was ironically so, so also was Christie's joyous discovery that as Garrett's wife she had also become to him the mistress she had once sworn never to be. In their private moments, no desire of his could be made known, no suggestion felt, which did not see her eager to please him in the intimate duties a woman bears her man. She became his ready pupil, for in love-making Garrett was a master, and as Christie reaped joy in learning from his skillful initiations, Garrett gathered equal delight through
the wonder they shared in her happy discoveries.

Theirs was that rarest of things, a true marriage— in mind and spirit, as well as in name and flesh—and all who knew them instantly recognized this and were touched by it in positive ways. In short, the joining of these two had become a fulfillment of the prophesy once made by Barnaby Rutledge, a thing to "teach us all something about loving."