Free Mystique by Ann Cristy Page A

who's investigated me like the FBI."
    "Why not? You're free to investigate
me. I've never been married, though I've had a mistress or two."
    "Or forty," Misty shot back
with scathing anger, feeling less and less numb as she began to recover from
the initial shock.
    "All right, I shouldn't have had you
investigated. But I had to know all about you. I couldn't wait to court you and
ask you questions about your marital status. I was in a hurry. You are going to
marry me."
    "You don't know anything about me.
I... I've had my share of problems. I'm not the kind of woman who will fit in
with your family." She had no intention of telling him that her father had
once accused her of being a whore.
    "Then we won't see my family,"
Luc assured her. "I'm fond of them, but I don't see them all the time. Of
course I'll want you to meet my father and mother." Luc smiled down at
her. "Father thinks you're beautiful. He told me my mother's hair was just
a shade lighter than yours when they were first married, but my mother says her
hair was more blond."
    "Your parents know who I am?"
    "Yes, but they'll really get to know
you after we're married. I took them to hear you play at the hotel, and they
were very impressed, as I knew they would be. You play so well."
    "Luc, you didn't... I didn't see
them with you," Misty babbled.
    "We were sitting at a corner table
out of your line of vision." He opened the double doors of the living room
and led her out to the foyer. "Shall we say good night to Bruno?"
    "If you have to walk him, I'll wait
here," Misty said, her mind awhirl.
    "You're thinking that you'll run out
the door and go home while I'm walking the dog. But I'm not about to let you
roam the streets of Manhattan at this time of night. Besides, I would come
after you and take you up to Hudson to get married anyway."
    "We aren't in love."
    He shrugged. "Define
love for me. I know I want to marry you. I know you told me you wanted no other
type of relationship with a man. So, I'm all set." He looked down at her,
determination showing in his rigid stance and hard jaw.
    Misty was at a loss for words. She felt
as if she'd been swept up in a strong current and washed helplessly downstream.
    "Didn't you tell me that you wanted
marriage?" Luc queried.
    "I said I wouldn't have any other
type of relationship, but... but I didn't—"
    "I'm holding you to that,
Mystique."
    "Misty. Everyone calls me Misty,"
she declared, losing her patience.
    "Except your husband-to-be."
    "We can't get married. People like
us don't get married. They live together until they're sure, and then...
then..."
    "You don't want that, and I've found
that I don't want it either. You can sleep alone tonight if you wish, but no
matter what you decide, I want two things from you now."
    "What?" Her voice had a hollow
ring.
    "I don't want you to try to leave
this house alone, and I want you to promise that you won't go back on our agreement."
    "What agreement? I didn't make
any—" "We're just going around and around in circles, love. You're
tired. We'll talk in the morning. Come on, I'll show you our room. You can
sleep there tonight. I'll sleep upstairs."
    "This is crazy, this is crazy,"
Misty kept whispering to herself all the way up the stairs.
    She was too distraught to appreciate the
beautiful beige and cream-colored bedroom with the huge bed in the center.
"I have a water bed," she said inanely.
    "We'll toss this one out and get a
water bed," Luc offered.
    "I have to have my piano. It costs a
great deal to move a concert grand," she informed him as he unzipped her
jeans.
    "I know. I had three Steinways moved
in here two weeks ago. They're all in perfect tune, so you should have no
trouble."
    "Three Steinways? That's
disgusting," she told him, her voice going hoarse. Without thinking, she
stepped out of her jeans.
    "Would you like to sleep in the
buff, sweets, or do you want the top of my pajamas?"
    "I sleep in a flannel nightgown, and
sometimes in flannel pajamas," she