Lotus Blossom (25 page)

It suddenly pierced Lotus’s cloud of dreams that they had never discussed having children, that there were a great many things they hadn’t even mentioned together—things that could profoundly affect their future.

Dash felt her stiffen in his arms as they circled the floor slowly. “What are you thinking now?”

“I was thinking of children,” Lotus told him simply.

“Ours?” Dash’s pulse double-timed as the picture of a tiny, dark-haired, green-eyed baby leaped into his mind.

“Yes.”

“Darling.” He hugged her. “You do have the loveliest ideas. This is a project that may take a great deal of work . . . lovely work.”

“And you wouldn’t mind having them?”

“My love, I can’t think of anything that would please me more . . . unless . . .” He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Before he answered a thousand reasons wormed through her brain on why they couldn’t have children.

“When was the last time you had a physical? I don’t want you being pregnant unless you have a complete checkup.”

Lotus was flummoxed. She had not expected him to say that. “Dash. No one has a physical before they become pregnant today.”

“You will.”

The music changed and Dash let her flow away from his body, the rhythmic gyrations taking them both as they faced each other.

“Darling . . .” Lotus began.

“Yes . . ." Dash kept his eyes on her fluid form as she moved in front of him with incredible grace. “You are such a beautiful dancer.”

“Dash ...” Lotus felt caught between irritation and laughter at the hot look in his eyes. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I am. Your body language is loud and clear, love.” He inhaled a sharp breath when he saw her breasts move beneath the silky fabric. “I am going to take you to Alaska,” he said through his teeth as Alan came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Tch, tch,
brother. Jennifer says you’re making a spectacle of yourself.” Alan beamed at him. “You should stop looking at Lotus as though she were the last peanut butter sandwich on the planet. That’s a quote, brother. Going to punch me in the nose?”

“Of course he isn’t.” Lotus laughed at her husband’s outthrust jaw, loosening her hand from his grip so that she could dance with her brother-in-law. “I’ll be right back, darling.”

Dash continued to watch them as they moved out into the center of the floor, dancing apart from one another, but in perfect rhythm.

“You really should get that murderous look off your face, John Dasher. She won’t go far, you know.” Lissa Colby took hold of her son’s arm and urged him to the side of the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance, Lissa?” Dash requested stiffly.

“I don’t think so, John Dasher. Why don’t we get a frosted orange juice, and you can tell me how you met the tiny Oriental dynamo who has taken over your life.”

Dash’s twist-of-lemon smile touched his mother, then his eyes were back on the dance floor. “You have a way of hitting the nail, Mother.’'

“My goodness, you are affected. You haven’t called me Mother in years,” Lissa drawled.

“I always thought you didn’t like to be called Mother.”

“I thought so too,” she confessed. “Strange how things change in this world.”

“True.” Dash cupped his mother’s elbow as they approached one of the tiny bars set discreetly among greenery in several sections of the huge ballroom. “Two orange juices, please.”

Lissa’s careful arched brows rose a fraction. “You, John Dasher? Orange juice?”

“I find that I need less and less of either the stimulation or smothering of boredom that I used alcohol for in the past.” The words slipped out as he turned his head to watch his wife and brother laughing and dancing on the floor.

“She has taken over your life then?” Lissa moved away from the peopled area around the bar, giving plastic smiles left and right as other guests greeted her and her son, but encouraging no one to approach.

“She is my life, Lissa.”

“Darling, boy,” Lissa said softly.

“Are those tears in your eyes, Mother?” Dash edged her nearer the wall in the nominal privacy of more of the potted plants that landscaped the ballroom into a “Summer Garden Party,” the theme of the Symphony Ball. “I’ve never seen you cry.” “Most people haven’t, but I have cried many tears for you, John Dasher, because I knew how-much I helped shape that cynicism of yours, how much I encouraged you to box your emotions away, and how, when I could have warned you what a selfish devil Prue was, I let you marry her anyway because her family was the right one.” Lissa looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I scarred you, John Dasher.”

Dash stared at his parent, more shaken that he cared to admit by her words. “If I tell you that nothing would have changed my mind about marrying Prue at that time, will that absolve you of the guilt you feel? I really felt at that time that she and I had the best chance of making a marriage. We seemed to have the ingredients of success. We both understood and liked finance and big business. She and I both had money. We knew the same people, had similar backgrounds, and were fond of each other’s families. I had no illusions about love, Mother, and not until the moment I met Lotus”—his eyes seemed to have a life of their own as they flitted toward the dance floor—“did I realize that there could be a someone who fits like a glove into your life as she does mine, but I knew it the moment I first held her in my arms when we danced at the casino.” He smiled down at his mother. “I developed my own armor in life, which was considerably hardened after I entered the casino business. You had little to do with that.” Lissa put her hand on his arm. “My dear boy, you have always been quick to shoulder the responsibility for your actions, but that does not mitigate my part in your unhappiness. I allowed your sisters to foist Prue onto you.” His mother pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I am very grateful that Lotus came into your life. She really is quite lovely.”

Dash felt relief when he saw the slight satirical lift to her lips. “What are you plotting now, Mother?”

“Not a thing, dear boy,” she drawled. “I was just thinking how absolutely beautiful your children will be.”

Dash felt as though his chest would burst through his silk shirt. “I agree. In fact both Lotus and I want children, but not before I know she is able to be pregnant safely.”

Lissa’s lips parted a bit in surprise. “But, John Dasher, surely you know that most women of average health are well able to carry a child, and Lotus looks of more than average health to me.”

“Yes. She seems very healthy, but I want an affidavit from a few good doctors on that,” Dash insisted.

“A few good doctors ...” his mother repeated, then she covered her mouth with her hand.

“It’s not funny.” His clipped Boston accent surfaced and wiped away his usual drawl.

“No, of course not, dear.” She set down her glass, the ice tinkling in the almost empty receptacle. “That is a very nice waltz, John Dasher. We can dance to that. Surely all those lessons at Madame Duval’s dance studio weren’t wasted.”

Dash smiled at his mother and inclined his head. “I’m not sure, Mother. I played hooky at a few of them.”

His mother shook his head. “You were an incorrigible child, but I knew you would grow up just like your father.”

“And that would please you. The worst-kept secret in Boston is that you love Dad, Lissa.”

She grimaced. “You mustn’t shout it about Boston, dear boy. Being in love with my husband could get me forcibly removed from the Priscilla Club,” his mother murmured as she lifted her hands to place one in his and the other, most correctly, at the tip of his shoulder. “My, my, this is wonderful. I can’t remember when I’ve last waltzed.” She sighed as they moved in rhythm.

Dash whirled his mother down the room, aware that because his wife watched him, his performance was a little more theatrical than it would have been. “Mother, you’re as light as a feather. Only Lotus is better on the dance floor,” he told her.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She laughed as they twirled around the perimeter of the room. “My goodness, is that your father and Alan with their mouths open watching us?” Lissa asked.

Even though she was a little out of breath, Dash could hear the satisfaction in her voice. He slowed his movements just a trifle. “Don’t be silly, John Dasher, carry on. I love it,” his mother scolded him. “Don’t slow down.”

Dash grinned and nodded, but he didn’t pick up his pace.

At the dance’s end Alan and his father approached them with Lotus and Laura, the four of them applauding. “My dear, I’ve never seen you look more graceful. You showed all those debutantes how it’s done.” Zachary Colby leaned down and kissed his wife, tucking her hand into his arm.

“It was lovely,” Lotus said. “You and Dash looked wonderful out there.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Dash told her, putting his arm around her and kissing the top of her head. “Because the next waltz is with you.”

“Lissa, you looked great. You made the ladies of the Priscilla Club look like old fogies,” Alan told his mother.

“And I shall feel like an old fogy when my bunion yells in the morning,” Lissa said, and wrinkled her nose when Lotus chuckled.

“Not to worry, my dear. I shall massage your feet before we go to bed,” Zachary told her, admiration in his eyes.

“Well, that certainly makes it worthwhile,” his wife simpered.

“If you’re waiting for me to blush, Melissa, my sweet, forget it.” Zachary reached down and gave his wife a resounding smack on the mouth, eliciting laughter from his two sons when their mother looked dumbfounded.

“Don’t be such bullies.” Lotus pinched her husband’s and brother-in-law’s arms.

“Ouch, Lotus.” Alan glared at her. “You’re getting as bad as Laura.”

“Don’t take my name in vain,” Laura said, and pinched Alan again. “Watch out, everyone, the cavalry is right on my tail.”

Lotus saw Jennifer and Ann bearing down on them and lifted her chin.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Dash chuckled at her back. “Mother, really, we saw you with John Dasher . . .” Jennifer inhaled a deep breath.

“And I thought you looked great, Lissa.” Jennifer’s husband, Warren, laughed when his wife’s mouth opened and closed like a gaffed fish. “You did too, didn’t you, Jen?”

“Ah . . . yes, as a matter-of-fact I did, but—” “But nothing.” Ann’s husband, Richard, interrupted. “You looked good out there, Mama-in-law.” He kissed her cheek. “I’d like the next waltz myself.”

“He was better at Madame Duval’s than I was,” Dash assured his mother.

“Anyone was, Dash. You scared the old girl witless when you climbed down the drainpipe and the damn thing collapsed,” Richard stated.

“I banged my backside pretty badly as I recall,” Dash drawled, bringing his sisters’ eyes on him.

“I’m starved.” A bored Alan looked at his relative. “I’ve done the proper thing, Lissa, now let’s get out of here.”

“How can you be hungry after the meal you had at the Neptune?” Ann looked at him indulgently. “That was hours ago.”

“We can leave after the orchestra breaks . . .” Lissa stated, ignoring Alan’s groan. “Oh. there is that Crawford girl. She needs a partner. Dash, dear, why don’t you dance with her?”

“I’ll do it.” Alan’s ears were red when his mother chuckled.

Dash edged Lotus away from the others. “Could I talk you into leaving?”

“After you waltz with me,” she said, and grinned impishly. “I wish I could have seen you at dancing school.”

“You were a babe in arms then, my dove,” Dash said, and gathered her close to him and kissed her. Then he lifted his head. “Ah, that is the ‘Blue Danube’ they’re playing. Shall we, Mrs. Colby?” “I’d be delighted, Mr. Colby.” Lotus put her hand on his arm, feeling the familiar heat flood her as she touched her husband. Oh, how she loved him!

Dancing with Lotus in the centuries-old dance to the three-quarter time of Johann Strauss was a turn-on that Dash had not expected. Lotus was as light as down in his arms. Her not-so-small, uptilted breasts moved when she exhaled with delight. Her curving, slender legs moved through the steps with a minimum of fuss, as though they were not on the floor but cushioned by air.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Lotus gasped as Dash twirled her. “No wonder so many love songs have three-quarter time.”

Dash exulted because she looked so happy, so free. “I wish I could write a love song for you.” “Oh, you have.” She took a deep breath and laughed when he looked puzzled.

“Have I?” he whispered.

“Yes. I’ve been singing some sort of song since I met you.”

“So have I.”

“See, we write our own music.”

“Yes,” Dash whispered. “A duet.”

Lotus nodded.

Their eyes clung as they swayed and twirled around the floor almost unaware that a great many people had taken to the floor with them, including Dash’s parents.

When the dance ended, many persons applauded.

“Even the debs and their escorts were waltzing,” Lotus said, leaning on her husband.

“Madame Duval would be ecstatic,” Dash announced laconically.

“I would have like to have seen you trying to sneak down the drainpipe . . . then again, I don’t suppose I would have been able to stand it.”

“No. You would have probably been there with me, going down the other drainpipe.”

“I was a tomboy,” Lotus admitted. “But what else would I be with two brothers who considered me to be able to play baseball and football as well as any boy? That delighted me and horrified my mother.”

“You didn’t go to dancing and deportment classes,” Dash answered solemnly, his mouth twitching.

“Mother tried, but I was very elusive. She settled for piano lessons, which I liked. She tried not to worry about the rest.”

“Wise woman, your mother.”

“Yes, she is. I hope I’ll be that good a mother.”

“You’ll be marvelous.”

“Pardon me, cousin. But I just have to dance with your lovely bride.” A man Lotus had never met whisked her away from Dash before her husband could even speak, let alone introduce them. He swept her down the long room in giant pirouettes.

“Stop.” Lotus gasped. “I’m dizzy.” “I’m Dexter Colby, Dash’s cousin.”

“More Colbys,” Lotus said and whimpered, closing her eyes as they stampeded around the room.