White Satin (12 page)

“
My
home?” Her eyes widened. “Briarcliff is your home, Anthony. You can bring anyone you like here.”

He looked away uneasily and quickly busied himself with pulling off her high-heeled sandals and slipping her beneath the covers. “No, it isn’t,” he said haltingly. “When I sent you away six years ago, I deeded Briarcliff over to you. Competitive skating isn’t the most secure career in the world. I wanted you to have something to fall back on.” He scowled fiercely. “It should have been yours anyway, so don’t give me any of that gratitude crap.”

“No, I won’t give you that.” She swiftly closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see the brightness of unshed tears in their depths. What a wonderful thing
to do. “Something to fall back on.” Perhaps. But it was her home and she loved it. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, that was the real reason he’d given it to her, and that knowledge filled her with a glowing exhilaration that was pure joy. One day soon she’d tell him how she felt, but not now. If she said anything now, he’d mistake it for that cloying gratitude he seemed to despise so much. She opened her eyes, her gaze running lovingly over the bold planes of his still-frowning face. “Well, in that case,” she said with mock sternness, “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your mistresses away from
my
house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Anthony said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He stood up. “We’ll discuss any further restrictions you wish to put on your humble tenant in the morning. Good night, Dany.”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “You’re leaving? I thought you were going to sleep with me.”

He stiffened and his grin faded. “I’m not taking Briarcliff out in trade either, Dany. Gratitude is bad enough, but—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said wearily. “I
wasn’t suggesting any such thing. I just thought it would be nice if you could hold me and make the world stop going around.” Her lips trembled slightly. “You did it before.”

“Once was enough for a lifetime,” he said, his lips tightening grimly. “I’d never last another night like that one, and there’s no way I’m going to take advantage of you while you’re under the influence.” He hesitated. “You really want me to stay?”

She nodded. “But not if it’s going to be difficult for you.”

“It’s going to be difficult.” He sighed. “But not as difficult as lying in another room worrying about you all night.” He was dragging the Queen Anne chair from across the room to the bed. He dropped into the chair and reached for her hand, enclosing it with sure, warm strength in his own. “A compromise. Satisfied?”

“Satisfied.” She smiled happily. Then she felt a guilty qualm. “You’re going to be terribly uncomfortable if you stay there all night. You can leave right after I’ve gone to sleep.”

“Thank you,” he said wryly. “I’ll keep that in
mind. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.” He reached out and turned off the lamp so that the only light was the moonlight streaming through the dimity curtains at the window across the room. He was only a dim shadow now but his hand holding hers was warm and strong and blessedly secure. She closed her eyes and felt drowsiness flow over her in a soothing tide.

He felt her hand relax under his and knew she was asleep. He also knew there was no question of his leaving her as she’d suggested. Not now. Not when she’d asked him to stay beside her for the first time in her life. It was too precious a victory to yield for mere comfort’s sake.

His thumb gently rubbed the palm of her hand. Such small, well-shaped hands, and so graceful, Anthony thought. He loved to watch every eager gesture and movement she made with them. He leaned back in the chair, a reminiscing smile curving his lips. Once, when she’d been about eleven or twelve, he’d been coaching her in a laid-back spin. He’d watched her perform the movement with all the exquisitely graceful, balletic overhead arm-and-hand movements the spin required.
There had been such a look of dreamy exultation on her face that he’d impulsively asked what she’d been thinking of.

“I was pretending I was reaching up to gather stars from the sky,” she’d said simply. Then the exultation had faded from her face, and she’d given him that half-apprehensive glance he was accustomed to seeing. “Pretty silly, huh?” she’d murmured. And skated away.

Dany was always reaching for the stars, Anthony thought. Searching and working for the very best in herself and everyone around her. Perhaps he loved that facet of her personality most of all. She would be reaching for one of the brightest stars of all in a few weeks, and he wished to heaven he could wrest it from the firmament for her. God, he wished that!

Well, he couldn’t do it. Dany had to fight her own battles, to gather her own stars … just as he had. If he tried to interfere, he’d be cheating her in the worst possible way. All he could do was stand aside and watch her struggle, hold her hand like this when she’d let him, and love her. Oh, yes, he could love her.

His head settled against the high back of the chair as he prepared to wait the long hours until dawn. His thoughtful gaze was fastened on Dany’s shadowy profile, and his grasp tightened protectively on the hand of the woman who tried to gather stars.

Anthony wasn’t there when she awoke, nor was there any note like the terse one that had met her that morning two days before. It didn’t disturb her. This morning she didn’t think anything could have disturbed the serenity and sheer joyous exuberance she was feeling. It was much later than she usually rose, almost nine o’clock, and she hurriedly showered, dressed in practice clothes, and ran lightly down the stairs within thirty minutes.

She was met at the bottom of the stairs by Beau, who took one look at her glowing face and sparkling eyes and lifted a quizzical brow. “I
thought you’d be dragging this morning,” he said. “Bags under the eyes and groaning with every cautious step. You’re not used to the sauce you were swilling last night.”

“What a disgusting expression.” She made a face at him. “I did
not
swill. I sipped delicately and with great style.”

“If a trifle copiously.”

She nodded ruefully. “Definitely copiously. Oh, well, no harm done. I have a trace of a headache, but I’ll be rid of that once I’ve started to practice.” She checked the leather-banded watch on her wrist. “I’ll have some toast and coffee and be with you in ten minutes. Okay?”

“Uh-uh.” Beau shook his bronze head. “No way, sugar. I received detailed instructions from Anthony before he left about the schedule you’re to follow today.” He grimaced. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Left?” she asked. “Anthony’s not here?”

Beau nodded. “He left about forty-five minutes ago with the luscious Luisa. She took her bags. Evidently she’s not planning on coming back.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say good-bye,” she murmured absently. Somehow she hadn’t thought Anthony would leave without speaking to her. For a moment it cast a shadow over her soaring spirits, but only for a moment. Then she gave herself an admonishing shake. What had she expected, for heaven’s sake? Last night had been only the beginning. They’d laid the groundwork for a new kind of relationship, but that was all. They had a long way to go. Anthony was still as enigmatic and complex as he’d ever been. It was only her attitude that had changed. But that was enough. She’d make it enough. “Did he leave any message for me?”

“Several,” Beau drawled. “First, you’re to have a long, leisurely breakfast. I’m to see that you eat properly, upon threat of mutilation. Second, you’re to be permitted three uplifting hours on the ice doing compulsory figures.” She scowled. “I thought that would hurt.”

“I worked on those yesterday,” she objected.

“Anthony says you’re to do them today too. Then you may rest, have a light lunch, and, if you
feel like it, you can work on ballet at the barre for a while before dinner.”

“Three hours on the ice and just on the figures.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that. What can Anthony be thinking?”

He shrugged. “He asked that you meet him at ten o’clock tonight at the rink, so he may plan on going over the long program with you himself.”

She felt her heart leap. “Anthony’s coming back today?”

Beau nodded, his gaze narrowed on her face that was suddenly alight. “He was expecting to be at Dynathe until early evening, but he said to tell you he’d be back by ten at the latest. He’s having to squeeze your training in between board meetings.”

“I suppose I should be honored,” she said lightly. “I’d better be sure to get plenty of rest today so I’ll be fresh when he gets around to me.”

“You’re not as upset as I thought you’d be,” Beau said, his face thoughtful. “No arguments?”

“Not at the moment,” she said with a serene smile as she tucked her arm into his. “But as your
Scarlett pointed out, tomorrow is another day. Now suppose you escort me into the breakfast room and start this force-feeding process Anthony’s so set upon.”

There were no lights streaming from the tall arched windows of the gray stone building that housed the rink as she walked swiftly up the path, and for a moment she felt a stab of disappointment. He hadn’t been able to make it back to Briarcliff after all, then. She shouldn’t have expected it, she supposed. Anthony was a terribly busy man, and it was perfectly natural that he should become so involved, he would forget even to call and tell her he couldn’t return as planned. Her mind made all the appropriate excuses, but it didn’t help lift the crushing weight of depression that was suddenly bearing down upon her.

It wasn’t until she opened the door that she heard it: the triumphant strains of Ravel’s “Bolero” soaring through the empty rink with the fiery glory of an army with pennants flying. No, not
quite empty, she realized with a swift surge of excitement.

Anthony was in the center of the ice, dressed in a black crew-neck sweater and black jeans. She had a fleeting memory of the first time she’d seen him so long ago. A dark flame, she’d thought him then, and he hadn’t really changed much in the years since. He was attacking the ice with the same incredible grace that was pure breathtaking beauty to watch. A triple executed with absolute precision, a spin that was a blur of high-speed motion, a camel that was sheer poetry.

As she’d noticed, he hadn’t turned on any of the lights, but she could still see him with daylight clarity. The moon’s rays were streaming through the skylight that covered most of the ceiling and cast a silver glow over the glittering ice and the man who was making it his own.

She softly closed the door and slowly made her way across the arena to the bench beside the sound unit in the shadows at the rim of the rink, not taking her eyes off Anthony’s lithe figure. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she wanted to take
advantage of this rare opportunity to watch unobserved as Anthony released all the passionate intensity he usually kept leashed. She sat down on the bench, automatically unzipped her skate case, drew out her skates, and slipped them on. Lord, the height of that split was fantastic. There was no question that Anthony was getting into the ice, she thought ruefully as she swiftly laced up her skates. Even in that split when he’d left the ice to soar, the observer had confidence it would receive him like an eager lover when he returned to it.

As she would receive him if he came to her. That sudden realization came as no real surprise. The tingle of breathless anticipation she’d attempted to smother all day, the way she’d dressed tonight with instinctive ritual, the sense of dreamlike inevitability she was experiencing now. She hadn’t come to practice. She wanted to belong to Anthony, and she’d come to him to offer herself with the primitive simplicity of woman.

But how was she going to make certain that Anthony would accept her offer? He’d almost driven them both crazy the other night with his
maddening scruples about waiting until after Calgary, and last night he’d been just as self-disciplined. Well, she had no use for self-discipline at the moment, and she’d just have to make sure Anthony didn’t either. The first item on the agenda was to change that music. Anthony was magnificent as a solo performer, but right now she was more interested in a duet.

Anthony stopped in midmovement when she removed the “Bolero” tape and inserted her own Olympic program cassette. The hauntingly beautiful strains of “Somewhere in Time” began to weave their poignant spell. His eyes searched the shadows by the bench. “Dany?”

“Yes,” she answered, trying to steady the quiver of excitement in her voice. She skated toward him out of the dark. “You’re a very private person, Anthony. It’s not often I get a chance to watch you work out. I’ve been here for some time.”

“I thought you might be,” he said to her surprise. She stopped a few feet from him, where she could see the silver-green of his eyes in the shadowy darkness of his face. “And I’m not always
that reserved. There are times when every male of the species wants to spread his plumage and strut a bit.” He paused. “The time of courtship.”

She felt the breath leave her body. “And were you strutting for me?”

“I was doing my damnedest. Did I please you, Dany?”

“Oh, yes, you pleased me.” She laughed shakily. “You pleased me very much.” Her hands flipped the pleats of her skating skirt. “I think perhaps I wanted to strut a little myself tonight. Do
I
please you?”