Christie (41 page)

We were delighted to receive your letter requesting leave to visit us at Stanhope Manor. But, of course, you must come—immediately, if you can. In two days we are giving a ball in honor of little Caroline's christening. (It was postponed until now to allow Melissa's complete recovery from her lying-in.) Please plan to attend, and do bring your new baby son with you. Many who met you here last year, Christie, have been asking for you and we should be
delighted to reacquaint them with you in your new married state. Also, we look forward to introducing Mr. Randall to those elements of Charleston society he may not yet have had the pleasure of meeting. Enclosed, find a list of all who will be attending. I have taken the liberty of . including it so you may inspect it. I assume you will find it sufficiently elevated by the lofty quality of the names included therein.

Looking forward to seeing you again,

I remain
Your affectionate Aunt M.

"Leave it to Aunt Margaret to make sure we're properly impressed by her illustrious gathering." Christie sighed as she handed Garrett the letter and enclosed list. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe Father when he says she wasn't always the frantic social climber she is now."

As she watched Garrett run his eyes over the guest list, Christie saw him turn suddenly red and choke on the brandy he then swallowed.

"Why, Garrett, darling, what is it? Is there something on those sheets which disturbs you?" she cried in alarm.

"No, pet," he murmured. "It's just that—damn it, do you suppose we have to attend that ball?"

"Well," answered his wife, "if you really don't wish to—but I thought you enjoyed dancing, sweetheart, and—"

She was interrupted by a rumble of laughter from Jesse, who had taken the list from his brother and was
now perusing it slowly; and as his eyes traveled down the page, each time- they alighted on a certain name, he would pause and hoot with a new burst of merriment, until he began to hold his sides from the exertion of his laughter, glancing from the list to his brother's ruffled countenance and then back again, with added laughter.

"Jesse, what on earth strikes you as so funny about a mere guest list?" questioned Christie, all the while noting her husband's growing scowl, especially in the face of his brother's continuing laughter.

"Oho—ha!—oh, this is too much!" laughed Jesse is he tried to calm down. "Well, Brother Garrett, do you want me to explain, or will you?"

"Explain what?" asked Christie, beginning to wonder if Jesse had gone temporarily daft, for she was at a loss to explain why, with every second of Jesse's increasing mirth, Garrett's face should appear more scowling.

"You might as well, Jesse," growled Garrett. "You've already gone this far."

"You see, little Sister," Jesse began, as he managed to whittle his laughter down to a wide grin, "it seems your relatives' guest list reads like an official rundown of some of Garrett's former—uh—I believe the polite expression is 'light of loves.' I'm afraid there are a good dozen or so ladies on that list, married and unmarried, whom my brother recognizes. Of course, the acquaintance goes back several years in most cases," he added, not at all too reassuringly in Garrett's estimation.

There was a long silence as Christie sat looking at Jesse, trying to take into full comprehension what
this information would "mean in terms of their upcoming visit. At last, she turned to look at Garrett, whose expression could only be read as one of overdone innocence, and said, quietly, "I see." Then, rising from the sofa, she headed for the door, saying, "Will you both excuse me, please?" Her tone was totally controlled and quiet—too quiet for Garrett's liking.

"Christie, where in hell do you think you're going?" he demanded.

Only then did his wife turn to reveal the mischievous sparkle in her wide turquoise orbs.

"Why, darling, only upstairs for a few moments to rouse Madame D'Albret, the dressmaker. If I'm going to be treated to a dose of your legendary past, I want to make certain—damned certain, if I may say so—that the glimpse your 'past' has of your 'present' and 'future' is a sufficiently memorable one. You see, my love, I am about to order a ball gown designed with only one thing in mind—to keep my husband's eyes on
me
—
all night!"

Then, smiling sweetly at him with the very smile of which he had talked earlier, she blew him a kiss and went through the door, calling behind her, "You two enjoy your brandy. I'll be back down in time for dinner!"

Totally mollified and not a little delighted, Garrett let out the breath he had been unwittingly holding in and broke into a peal of ebullient laughter of his own.

"Jesse," he chuckled, "there goes the only woman in the world who could have caught me and held me, too. She may be half my age, but she's all woman! And in some ways, she's eons ahead of me. A
ball gown designed to—hell, what am I laughing about? If she and that Frenchwoman put together the kind of outfit I'm thinking of, there won't be another man in the room who will be able to keep his eyes off her either!"

And with a groan, Garrett sank back onto the sofa and downed his brandy in one gulp while Jesse's renewed laughter rang in his ears.

All during dinner, Jesse knew something was going on. When he finally realized what it was, he was glad to have an engagement for the evening that would enable him to leave early, thus allowing his sister-in-law ample opportunity to pursue her plan. For Garrett the recognition came about a bit more slowly, but this was perhaps because he lacked Jesse's vantage point of sitting across from them at the table, a position from which he had been able to watch Christie's maneuverings which took place despite the fact that Garrett didn't realize she was studying or working on him. When Garrett did become fully aware of his wife's intent, however, his mouth relaxed into a lazy smile, and he leaned further back in his chair and watched her through half-closed green eyes.

Christie found herself confident and adamant. From the moment she had found out about the potentially troubling guest list, she had begun to turn knowledge of that would-be problem to an advantage. Not a little bit helpful in her decision on how to handle it had been the tiny Frenchwoman upstairs. Madame D'Albret was hardly the first French seamstress Christie had known, but she was
by far the most likable. Nodding her head and clucking with understanding when Christie had presented her with her problem, the tiny, middle-aged brunette had set out immediately to help, insisting she would "sew through ze night," if need be, to assist "la belle madame." So Christie had come down to dinner assured that, when they left for Charleston the following afternoon, she would be carrying a "gown of gowns" in her trunk. But more importantly, the Frenchwoman had impressed upon Christie the need for a more comprehensive "plan of attack" in the situation.

"Do not wait until ze night of ze ball to assure your 'usband you are all ze woman 'e need evair look at," she had said. "No,
maintenant,
we will begin right now, zis evening, to bind 'eem to you wiz 'ees senses, as well as 'ees 'eart." And, holding up a yard of the sheerest, most sensuously enticing white fabric against Christie's sun-tanned skin, she had laughed deep in her throat at the implication of her Gallic wisdom and had instructed the young mistress of the house to go downstairs and to be as seductive as she knew how during dinner, but to excuse herself early and go to her chamber where a fitting "costume of ze night" would await her. This she was to don before her full-length mirror and then while she awaited her husband's arrival, she should experiment with "several suitable poses in which to appear when 'e find you zere."

At first Christie had been hesitant, feeling somehow a certain silliness in being involved in such a deliberate plan. After all, she was as sure as she was
of her own name that Garrett loved her, loved her deeply, permanently. What need was there, then, of any contriving to entice him further? Hadn't he found her daily, hour by hour, a totally desirable lover? But then there flashed into her head a picture of Laurette Mayfield as she had once leaned seductively on Garrett's arm, flirting outrageously, fanning his manly interest, and Christie's doubts in the matter disappeared. No man, she decided, just because he was happily married, should be required to abjure the more tempestuously female charms of woman. A wife need not be passive and ought never chance being dull! Thus far Garrett had seen the innately attracting allure of his new wife, those aspects of her sensual nature she came by artlessly, instinctively. Well, they would always be there; they were a natural part of her and she thanked heaven he found them so desirable and arousing. But tonight he was going to see an added dimension; tonight he was going to know Christie as a total woman and the complete female incarnate!

She had giggled over all this to herself on the way downstairs, finding the anticipated chance to play this new role exhilarating, exciting; but once her feet hit the main floor and she made her way toward the dining-room door where she heard Garrett's and Jesse's voices, she quieted down and became deadly serious in aim and purpose. When Garrett rose and helped her to her chair, she turned large, turquoise eyes up and smiled a little half-smile at him, at the same instant managing to brush her slender hip against his thigh. When her wine had been poured,
she raised the glass over so slowly to her lips while she fastened a wantonly open and passionate gaze on her husband's face, locking his eyes to hers, affixing them there in heady awareness that the plan was working. Already, Garrett's mouth bent into a sensual curve and his eyes signaled desire. But Christie was far from finished. As the dinner conversation wore on, she couldn't be sure how much she contributed to it. Later she would remember none of its details, for she was absorbed in the other communication going on at the table. At one point, when Jesse said something funny, causing all of them to laugh, she leaned ever so slightly toward Garrett, brushing his arm with her breast as she did so. Then her eyes found his and let him know this was no accident. Her eyes, in fact, rarely left his face, but their focus was evanescent, ever changing, while their message remained the same. One moment they were on his mouth, assessing it, measuring its strength; the next, they ranged over his entire visage, smoldering as they took in the hard, chiseled beauty there, naked in their claim; and always, again and again, they returned to meet his own green eyes, signifying, inviting, holding him transfixed.

Once he became cognizant of the game, Garrett's blood began to pound, sending his senses whirling in dizzy madness. Outwardly he remained cool, except for the passionate curl of his mouth, for although he was keenly aware of the design in her behavior, he found himself nevertheless totally captivated by its play, drawn into it, intoxicated by it, anticipating with delight the path it would take.

By the time Christie made her excuses to retire

early, saying she wanted to get one more feeding into Adam, "to assure that he sleeps through the night," Garrett was completely gone. As he watched her stand to leave the table she ran the tiny tip of her tongue suggestively along the teeth which showed between slightly parted lips, and it took all the strength he could manage not to dash immediately after her, carry her to their chamber, and assume instant taking of his husbandly rights. But he checked the impulse, knowing full well what extended sweetness the postponement would add.

Christie's head was dancing when she reached their rooms. Closing her eyes in sweet anticipation, she pictured her husband's face as she had left it. fever had she seen the green eyes more devouring, their sensuous message more openly frank. He couldn't have been more direct if he had screamed "I want you!" to the housetop! Smiling to herself, she hurried about her business.

First, she did indeed feed their son, even though he had been sleeping soundly and she had to awaken him. There was no sense in seducing one's husband if a babe was going to interrupt at some drastically inopportune moment! Then she refreshed and renewed the effects of her earlier bath by filling a basin with scented water—using the jasmine-scented perfume Garrett was so fond of and had begun to associate with her—and this she liberally sponged over her entire body. Finally, after brushing her silken tresses until they shone in the mellow candlelight, and letting them hang loosely about her shoulders and back in glistening abandon, she went to the bed and found Madame D'Albret's intimate
little creation. Doing exactly as she was told, she drew it onto her perfectly curving body as she stood before the mirror. When the tiny gown was in place, she gasped. Tiny was the only way to describe it, for it had no length. Beginning with the two tiny knots which fastened it at her shoulders, it draped and curved its way down over each voluptuous breast, passing, in more clinging fashion, her small waist and ending at the tops of her thighs, and in back, just below the curve of her buttocks! Moreover, except for a fold or two here and there, the diaphanous fabric was used only in a single layer and therefore it hid nothing and was so sheer as to be no fabric at all! "No," thought Christie to herself, "it reveals more than nothing at all," for she noticed how, in barely covering the rosy peaks of her round breasts, it called attention to them, suggesting an eagerness to be free; in catching softly its folds between the tops of her thighs as she moved, it drew the eye to the clearly visible triangle of hair just below, beckoning the beholder onward.

But she had little time to contemplate any of these implications further, for at last she heard Garrett's footsteps in the hall. Quickly she picked up the two glasses of brandy she had just poured and walked to the bed. There she found her position and waited.

Garrett opened the door and saw her immediately, and the effect was to cause his breath to catch deep in his throat and his already honed senses to reel and sway with dizzying speed. Wordlessly he closed the door behind him and continued to observe her.

She sat perched at the edge of the high bed, one leg tucked partly under her, the other dangling tantalizingly, its elegant length almost reaching the
floor. Near her bent knee she held a glass with amber
liquid in it while another such glass she held out to


him with one slim arm extended. Covering her
body—that is, the portion of it she had attempted to
cover—was some kind of fairy creation which
pretended to be clothing. Beneath its gossamer film
his eyes focused on those lush breasts he already knew
so well, their melon ripeness fully displayed, their
darker crests straining saucily against the thin fabric
in peaked readiness. Then, as his eyes traveled lower,
she slid from the bed and moved slowly toward him,
and his vision had complete access to what he had
already suspected the lower folds of the gown
revealed.
' .

Christie smiled in deliberately seductive innocence as she reached her husband, who so far hadn't moved from the spot from which he had first seen her. "Brandy, darling?" she purred. She handed him the glass.

Garrett's hand actually shook as he took the glass, and he took a slow, deep breath in an effort to dispel the weakness he felt stealing over his limbs. She was so near, he could smell the perfume which emanated from her hair, and still he made no move to touch her. Only his eyes, flickering with desire, told he was not completely paralyzed. At last he raised the proffered glass to his lips, but his eyes remained on her.

With her free hand, Christie reached out and began to untie his stock. Succeeding, she tossed it casually aside, at the same time setting down her glass of brandy on a nearby stand. Then she reached up with
both hands and slid them beneath his now-open shirt, weaving her fingers into the darkly curling hair. In the same moment, she brought her body close until it touched his, her curving breasts pressing against his chest, branding him there, her naked thighs leaning into his hard, lean ones, reducing them nearly to jelly.

"You play a dangerous game, madam," breathed Garrett at last. His eyes burned into hers.

"Dangerous, my lord?" whispered Christie, unable to trust her voice at a greater volume. "How so?"

Garrett smiled into the eyes that gazed upward into his with heavy-lidded sensuality. "Many women, as you learned for sure this evening, have sought to tempt me with their wiles, and none half so lovely as you," he said softly. "But with none of those was I ever in love, or did I even come close, yet my man's passions, when so openly aroused, were known to take an aggressive turn. Beware then, love, of turning on my baser nature by your siren's calls and then fanning the flame beyond control through the heart's wilder pull. The two in combination could be more than we can handle." He had set his glass down beside hers on the stand as he spoke and his hands had begun to roam confidently over her curving frame, causing a hotly effervescent sensation to course through Christie's body.

"I think, my darling, we are more than able to withstand the onslaught," Christie replied, moving her arms about and behind his neck and pulling his head down toward her own. She saw him smile briefly before his mouth bore down on hers in a singular movement of passionate possession, demanding, claiming, owning her in a single gesture. When at last he raised his head, his arms continued to bind her tightly to him as he whispered, "I just think you ought to know I adore you for this. I have no problem whatever beholding my wife as a seductive and wanton temptress because I know I'm the only one on whom she will work such magic."

"The only one," replied Christie, but any other words she might have thought to add were cut off as his mouth quickly found hers again, and they were caught in a passion of kisses which succeeded wildly, one upon the other, their mouths crisscrossing each other's in fervent zeal, the breathing of each going ragged under the onslaught, body pressed against body, in a stormy mingling of passion still not at its heights. In seconds Garrett's shirt fell to the floor quickly followed by the rest of his clothes, Christie having worked as deftly as he to remove their constraints. Then they were locked together again, and Christie quivered in rapturous anticipation as she felt his heated manhood against her belly.

At length Garrett brought one arm under his wife's trembling knees and swung her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bed. There he flung himself, still holding her clinging form onto it, and they toppled amid the pillows and sheets in a mindless embrace before Garrett rolled on top of her, pressing her down into the soft bedclothes. Then he supported himself on one forearm while with the other hand he began to fondle and caress what he knew to be the places of readiest access to her desire. At length as Christie began to moan and writhe under him, he fastened both hands at the top of the tiny gown's bodice and
tore it open to the hemline in a single movement.

Christie sucked in her breath and her eyes went wide as she looked at him; but then she moaned again as his hand closed over the hard-tipped softness of one round breast.

"You'll order a dozen more of those tomorrow, and we'll go through one or two a night, love," Garrett whispered hoarsely.

But Christie was beyond answering him, except with the signal of parting thighs which now she thrust forward to meet his pulsating hardness. Eagerly she arched her back in a wanton display of her desire to be possessed in the final measure. Swiftly, almost violently, Garrett pushed into the hidden warmth, his bigness making her gasp. Almost instantly Christie felt the heat of her passion welling up to meet the release his pressured hardness promised. Garrett moved his hands down under her buttocks and pulled her more tightly to him as he drove ever more deeply into her throbbing flesh, and in seconds he felt her body convulse with his as wave after wave of unutterable pleasure bound them together in a world that was totally each other.

It seemed to Garrett that an eternity passed before he was even able to remember where they were, when—the time of day or night—or any other external detail beyond the fact that Christie was in his arms in the name of total love. Finally he was able to open his eyes and look down at her face as she lay beneath him; she lay completely still, except for the continued rapid beating of her heart as he felt it beneath her breasts which continued to press against his naked chest. There he found her eyes, dark and blue now, bent on him in absolute adoration. Garrett
began to press soft kisses over her beautiful face, covering every inch of it as if is were a sacred thing.

"Christielove—Christie—Christie, oh, little love," he murmured, "I can't get enough of you—not ever; and then, just when I think perhaps I can manage the tumultuous explosions you always set off inside me, like some poor juggler just learning his trade, I see you come along in a new storm of delight and send my scattered senses flying in yet another burst of disarray." He chuckled. "I've been accused, by some of those very women who triggered tonight's delightful play, of being an over demanding lover, a lusty fellow whose appetite surpasses their ability to give, and here I find myself bound in sweetest wedlock to a woman half my age, found in innocence, reached through much pain, whose passions meet my every imagined dream and whose capacity for loving overwhelms me and touches my very soul. Are you real, love? Do you truly eat, sleep, breathe, feel, see?"

Christie brought slender fingers up to touch his lips and watched as he kissed them before pressing them close to his cheek. "Yes, my beloved husband," she breathed, "I am all flesh and blood, made by heaven itself, I sometimes think, for the sole purpose of loving you. All that I be, the woman I am, exists because of you, Garrett. Dear God, sometimes the very depth and breadth of the love I bear you scares me so!"

Garrett saw her eyes begin to well up with tears. Quickly he kissed them back, smoothing her long hair until it lay spread out upon the pillow. "No, love," he whispered. "Shed not another tear over our love, except in joy. We are forever, and there's naught
outside can hurt us. I promise you."

Finding her briefly tearful mood vanish under the warmth of his words and gentle kisses, Christie asked, coyly, "Not even old 'light of loves'?"

"Especially old 'light of loaves,'" whispered Garrett, sinking his teeth playfully into her earlobe.

Instantly Christie's body responded with a shiver and a renewed stirring deep in her belly, and only then did she realize her husband's masculine strength still lay buried within her. In answer to her reawakened desire, his passion, too, began to rekindle as his manhood's brand commenced to heat, once again, growing hard within the confines of her depths.

Closing her eyes, she felt his lips burn a hot trail of kisses along her throat and across her neck and shoulder. "Oh, yes, again, my darling, again," she breathed as Garrett's powerful body demanded of her what she had already begun to give. Hungrily, wantonly, they took and gave of each other, binding in rapturous union their love all over again.

Later, much, much later, Christie awoke to find the candles in their chamber burning low. Beside her she felt her husband's warmth as he lay holding her in sleep. Turning her head up slightly, she observed his strong profile, softened now in slumber from the more sharply defined lines his face had taken on in the heat of desire, desire which had risen and ebbed and risen again through the night's sweet passing. And what a night this was! Christie closed her eyes as she quietly reviewed the delicious hours they had just spent together. Even though he had warned her, she had been quite unprepared for the turbulence his
passions had caught them up in. Heretofore, she now realized, ever since their marriage, Garrett had always made love to her with utmost care, letting tenderness be the underlying watchword for his attentions toward her—"probably out of regard for my newness at our game," she thought to herself, smiling. But tonight there had been times when—no, she had to admit, even during his most ardently heated moments, he had never allowed her to feel his regard for her wasn't tender—but there had been something new in their play, nevertheless, something wildly exciting, brought on by the seduction she had arranged. Tonight she had become aware, more than ever before, of the power of this man she loved. It was a power and a,strength which demanded of her a return of the same. For in her reaction to his call, Christie had surprised herself by the fierce, almost violent nature of her own passions and the turn they could take. Wide-eyed, she beheld the small, almond-shaped mark on his shoulder, a mark left by her own teeth! When had she done
that?
Softly, she brought her lips to the spot and kissed it.