Queen For A Night (7 page)

He bent his head, hovering over her as he brushed the globes of her breasts with his eyelids, his cheekbones, his lips. Inhaling the scent of her, he pressed his mouth to her smooth skin, trailing his tongue to taste and entice. Settling his mouth over one nipple, he let her feel the heat inside him before giving her the wet abrasion of his tongue, tugging with gentle suction.

There was no hurry. With consummate care and closely executed skill, they sought the wellsprings of mutual delight. Caressing, delving into warm hollows and scaling resilient heights, they used hands and lips, invention and imagination, to test endurance and stretch enchantment. Until it was too much, and not enough.

The joining was a slow, liquid slide, yet a joyous shock. They made it last with measured, deliberate rhythm, using the rise and fall of the boat with the waves as naturally as breathing. Touching the threshold of ultimate grace again and yet again, they skirted it, daring it while they moved together with straining muscles and expanding minds.

Surrender came with a shattering plunge. It was an internal storm, one more exhilarating, more potentially dangerous, than the one outside. They let it buffet them, shake them, while they rode it with panting effort. They reveled in it, sinking deep into its mystery. And when it passed, the memory of it lingered in the heated meshing of their bodies, transfiguring them. They lay, trying to hold it, while their heartbeats shook them and drying moisture cooled their skins.

Ross stirred, smoothing her hair away from her face, pushing it behind her shoulder in aimless, caressing exactitude. As he touched her arm that was doubled under her, he seemed to recognize that she was cramped against the back of the sofa. He shifted, giving her room.

There was no real comfort to be had on the narrow width of the cushions, however. He pressed his lips to her forehead then extracted himself with the contraction of long muscles and excellent balance. Bending to scoop up his discarded jeans, he stepped into them. He leaned once more to pick up their mugs where he had set them on the floor, then moved across to place them in the sink.

Caroline felt exposed, lying there naked and alone on the sofa. She sat up and found her robe, struggling into it. Shaking her hair back, she lifted its long length from under the robe's collar and swept it over one shoulder out of the way.

She glanced at Ross where he stood with his back to her and his head bowed. A slow chill moved over her skin. Drawing up her feet, she covered them with the robe and wrapped her arms around her.

Ross reached for a glass from the overhead cabinet. The battery operated pump under the cabin floor was loud as he ran water into it. He drank a few swallows. As he set the glass down, he spoke over his shoulder, his voice offhand and easy, perhaps too easy. “The sofa unfolds into a bed. You might try and get some sleep.”

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant to do, but caught the words in time. There was no point in issuing what amounted to an invitation to share her bed, since he had already decided, apparently, to leave it. Finally, she said, “Yes, I'll do that.”

He braced his hands on the cabinet top. The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he put pressure on them. “This—just now—was not my intention when I brought you on board.”

“No, I realize.”

“Nor is it a habit, in spite of what Tony may have said.” The words were sober, deliberate.

She looked away from him, her gaze catching and holding on the black reflective surface of the back window. “Don't,” she said in low tones. “Nobody's blaming you.”

He was silent for long seconds. She thought he turned his head to stare at her, but refused to look at him to be sure.

He said, finally, into the long pause. “It's really so important to you to be a Mardi Gras queen?”

Confusion tied her tongue for an instant, or possibly it was guilt for earlier thoughts. “I—you don't have to feel—you don't owe me anything.”

“I know that.” His words cut across hers with sharp rebuke. “This has nothing to do with what I might or might not owe you, all right?”

“Fine.” The single word was tight. She didn't believe him, but it would do no good to say so.

“Fine. If we've got all that straight.” He paused, rolling his shoulders as if his neck muscles were stiff before he began again. “Look, I'm not too excited about being king. I don't like dressing up, don't like hordes of people in one place, and despise making a spectacle of myself. These things aside, there's no real reason why I can't do it. What I'm trying to say, and making a mess of it, is if you're sure Tony wants me to take his place, I'm agreeable.”

She drew a swift breath as she swung her head to look at him. His gaze from across the room was dark blue and firm. “Are you sure?” she asked in tentative tones. “I mean, I wouldn't want you to do anything you'd hate.”

“Hell, no, I'm not sure,” he said on a short laugh. “But it's only for one night. It can't kill me.”

“Two,” she corrected him. “There’s the rehearsal tomorrow night at the civic center—or actually tonight now, I think—and the ball the next.”

“I know the routine, don't worry.”

Caroline watched him while an odd mixture of relief and dread rose inside her. “Uncle Tony will be relieved.”

“If he doesn’t laugh himself into another heart attack. And I expect Murielle will have her own giggle or two.”

“What?” She watched him while a frown drew her brows together.

“Never mind. You can call her as soon as we get back. I'll talk to Tony, try to reach him before he goes to surgery; I need to have a word with him anyway.” As she tilted her head in inquiry, he added, “To show a little concern?”

“Oh, right.” It was natural, of course, but she still wondered if there was something more Ross wanted to discuss with Tony, something to do with her.

“Rest, then. I'll try to get us away from here as soon as possible.” He swung abruptly to pad up the stairs to the cabin above. The outside door opened then closed behind him.

Caroline sat staring at nothing while listening to Ross move about on deck, braving the rain for a fast check of their anchor and the mattress wedged in the windscreen. She had what she wanted, the thing she’d come to see Ross McDougall about, didn't she? She was going to be the Mardi Gras queen.

Why, then, did she feel so deserted. Why did she feel as if she had been paid off? Why did she feel like crying?

She tried to sleep, but it was next to impossible with the wind swinging the boat on its anchor and the rain splattering around them. If Ross relaxed at all, she was not aware of it. She heard him as he monitored the weather radio at a barely audible sound level. She knew all three times when he went out on deck to check their mooring and to scan the weather. From the sound of it the last time he opened and shut the door, the rain was finally slowing, moving away from them. Not long afterward, she smelled coffee brewing, and then came the rumble of the engines as they started.

They reached the bayou leading to Ross's house just after daybreak. By that time, Caroline's T-shirt dress and underwear, draped over a chair after she bathed, were more dry than not. She donned them and stood ready to help bring the boat in to the dock.

The atmosphere between her and Ross had grown more awkward with every league of water that passed under the boat. There seemed no reason to prolong the good-byes.

Caroline had marshaled her excuses, and she brought them out in a breathless string. There was no need for both of them to call Tony and Murielle; she would take care of it. She would go by the hospital on her way home, sit with her cousin during Uncle Tony’s surgery since there were a thousand details they needed to discuss. Then she needed to pick up the queen's costume, make an appointment to have her hair and nails done, let the people where she worked know she wouldn't be in today or tomorrow because of all the preparations.

As she spoke, she moved from the boat out onto the dock. Ross followed her out, but stopped at the railing.

“I thought we might drive up to Lake Charles together. Maybe I should be at the hospital in case something goes wrong.”

“Oh, that would be so much trouble. I have my car here. We would have to come all the way back to pick it up.”

“I could call somebody to bring it.”

“But then you would have to drive me around town on my errands. You would hate that. Anyway, it would feel funny, having you waiting for me.”

“I wouldn't mind,” he said quietly.

“No, really, I have so much to do, and so do you if we're going to pull off this king and queen thing. Besides, you have no obligation to me, and I would rather you didn't feel any.”

His lips tightened, and he made a movement as if he would come closer. Abruptly, he stopped. “I think I understand,” he said, the words even. “I suppose I'll see you tonight then.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she echoed, backing away in the direction of her car. It wasn't necessary for him to kiss her good-bye. If she kept enough distance between them, he would realize he needn’t make the effort. Summoning a smile, she went on. “I'm helping decorate the civic center late this afternoon, so will be there already for the rehearsal. I'll just meet you there about seven?”

“Yeah, fine,” he said, though there was a furrow between his brows.

“Good.” She backed away another step, still smiling with aching cheek muscles. “Thanks again for agreeing. I do appreciate it.”

“Don't mention it.” The words were dry.

There was a hard pain just under her heart, but she lifted a hand and turned. She walked quickly away. It was only as she reached her car that she was able to force the desperate curve from her stiff lips.

She had to blink several times in order to clear her vision enough to find her car keys and push them into the ignition. Still, she could see fine, just fine, by the time she had turned her Ford Escort and headed back toward Lake Charles.

Ross stood with his hands on his hips, staring after Caroline's car. What in the name of heaven had he said or done to make her so anxious to get away from him? Try as he might, he couldn't think of a thing.

He had as much ego as the average man, but he didn’t think he’d imagined her response when they made love. He had certainly tried to be sure she enjoyed it as much as he did. She’d seemed to like the boat ride, even with the blow-out of the windscreen. She had shown no signs of being seasick. And he didn't think he had said anything to tick her off.

Maybe he could have held her a little longer there on the sofa, but only at the risk of pressing her into the cushions with his weight. As for the things he could have said, might have said, he had been afraid they were too much and far too soon. They both needed to test the waters a little more. Only teenagers leaped in with both feet at first sign of an accelerated heartbeat.

He was no teenager, nor was Caroline.

On the other hand, neither of them were exactly geriatric cases. They weren’t super-sophisticates, either. They were just a man and a woman carrying their baggage from the past while doing their best to make some sense of the future. That left a great deal of room for misunderstanding.

He hated to think she took off because she had what she wanted from him, his warm body as Mardi Gras king. She didn't seem the type, but then, it wasn't always possible to tell.

It was conceivable, of course, that his offer to be king had seemed too much like pay back, tit for tat, in spite of what he’d said. After thinking it over, she had decided to be insulted.

He hadn't meant it that way. Of course, he hadn't been thinking too straight at the time, not with the taste of her on his tongue and the sweet scent of her still clinging to him. It had seemed, in his highly charged state of mind, that agreeing to what she wanted was the best way of keeping her in his life. He couldn't expect her to want him around if he hurt her by refusing, could he? And letting her go had not been in the plan.

There was a strong probability that things had gotten more hot and heavy than she intended, and she was embarrassed. Maybe making a quick break for town was her way of putting distance between them.

Or maybe she had figured out, in spite of his fancy defenses, that there had been no need to ground the boat. She knew he could have eased along until they were inside the protection of the jetties, then found the bayou and cruised to the dock. In that case, he was in deep trouble.

He would straighten it out this evening at rehearsal. A king had a right to know where he stood with his queen.