I will never use the Mrs. title as I have agreed but I cannot stop others here referring to me as such. Sir William will not accept Angelique, or Angelique Richaud but insists that I sign as Mrs. Angelique Struan, nee Richaud, to make the above binding, for, according to him, and his understanding of English law, that is presently my legal name until I remarry.
"Has he said that?" he asked sharply.
"No, but Mr. Skye says if asked, he would have to agree."
"Ah." Gornt nodded thoughtfully, gulped some wine and went on reading, slower and more carefully: Should any of the above be unsatisfactory, please draw up what you further require, give it to Mr. Gornt who tells me he is going to see you again, then to return here almost immediately, and I will sign it. I commend him to you, he was a very good friend to your son, and has been kind to me--he advised me to accept your kind conditions as Mr. Skye was against. Sincerely yours...
Angelique.
Gornt sat back, exhaled and stared at her, awed. "It's marvelous. Marvelous. You agree to everything but still hold the sword of Damocles over her."
The fan stopped. "How so?"
"You plan to live in London therefore under English law, a latent, obvious threat. Never once do you use "husband" but that threat is there, you put me squarely on center stage as friend to both sides and in a perfect negotiating position. And however devious she is, whatever she draws up for you to sign, you can shed more tears and sigh, Duress, and would win. Twenty-four carat marvelous!"
"Then I should ask Sir William to witness my signature?"
"Yes," he said, enthralled by her, so clever and daring, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. "This is checkmate."
"How so?"
"Tess is safe in only one way: if you remarry and you've blocked that." Though the fan stopped, her eyes watched him over the edge. Then the movement began again and he handed her back the letter, thinking, Devilishly clever--for you, but not for me. "Skye advised you brilliantly."
"No one advised me, except you--something you said guided me."
His heart skipped. "No one else has seen this?"
"No. And no one else will. It can be secret between us."
He heard the "can be" and wondered where that led, despondent now but hiding it. The fire in the grate needed attention so he got up and used the poker to give himself time to think. The air was still strong with the smell of smoke and burning but he did not register it, only her.
How in the hell did she figure that all out?
It's totally brilliant, all the pieces are on the board, for both of us. She's won, she'll beat Tess, but I've lost. I'll still have to negotiate for her, and now I'm surer than hell I can up her stipend, but Angelique's conceded nothing and left her game plan open.
I've lost. I don't share in the big prize: Her. "So the answer to my question is No, must be No?"
Only the fan moved. "Why?" she asked, without emotion.
"Because the moment you do, you lose the game, you lose all power over Tess Struan."
"Yes, I would." She closed the fan quietly and let it rest in her lap. Her eyes never left his, nor their intensity.
For a moment he felt hypnotized, then his mind flared into action, and sudden hope spread through him.
"I would, you said, meaning you would. But I wouldn't? I wouldn't lose power?"
Now she smiled. It was an answer.
The Mona Lisa again, he thought, strange how her face changes, how I think it changes, how really devious she is, and how vigilant I'm going to have to be to tame this filly. I still don't understand but a faint heart never won a fair lady. It took all of his will to keep his feet planted where they were. "I love you for all the usual reasons, and I love your cleverness.
Now, formally, please, will you marry me?"
"Yes," she said.
"Hallelujah!" Gornt said, lightheaded, but did not move from the fireplace.
The fan stopped. "Hallelujah? Is that all?" she murmured, heart picking up tempo.
"Oh no, but first tell me what are your conditions."
She laughed. "Should there be conditions?"
"I'm beginning to know the way your mind works--some of the time."
"When will you board Atlanta Belle?"
"At the last moment. There's much to... to talk about."
"Yes. Edward, would our children be brought up Catholic, and would we be married in a Catholic church?"
"Is that a condition?"
"A question."
He frowned, letting his mind race ahead and all around, wanting to be cautious in this rock-infested sea. "I don't see why not.
I'm not Catholic as you know," he said slowly, "but if that's what you want it would be all right--"
The final piece of the jigsaw blinded him with its power. "Hallelujah!"
"What?"
"Just an idea. We'll talk about in a minute. Now, no more games, Angelique," he said, chiding her. "Conditions? What's in that magic mind of yours?"
She got up. On tiptoe she touched her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Her lips were soft and breath sweet. "Thank you for asking me, and for what you've already done for me."
He rested his hands on her hips. Both noticed that their bodies seemed to fit though neither acknowledged it.
"The conditions?"
"Tell me what they are, Edward."
Now that she had answered the main question, and had given him the keys, he was in no hurry.
"I'll guess three," he said, amused. "If I'm right, you'll tell me the rest?"
"Agreed." His body, hard against hers was pleasing to her. And so was her soft curving against him, diverting his concentration. Effortlessly. Careful, it's her major trump card and this game's now in its most dangerous stage--to settle the future.
Goddam! Easy enough to make the kiss more serious, too easy, and easy then to whisk her off her feet to the bed in the next room and lose--whatever the result--even before you reach the door.
It was more exciting for him to hold back, to wait for the perfect moment--as with Morgan Brock-- to accept the fact of his lust and put it aside and try to inject his mind into hers instead. Three conditions? I know at least five, he thought, wanting to win, needing to win as in everything.
"Not necessarily in this order," he said.
"One is that I successfully renegotiate upwards, say at least to four thousand a year. Another that we spend time in Paris and London, say a month every two years --with travelling time, that'll be about a six months trip. Next, that Tess's trust money, whatever it is, stays under your control, not mine."
He saw her eyes dancing and knew he had won. "And another for good measure, that I must love you madly forever."
"You're so clever, Edward, I know we will be very happy." The strange smile returned. "Now, five would be better than four, and two months better than one."
"I'll try for five though I can't promise," he said at once, "and agree to two months in Paris, all other things being equal.
What else?"
"Nothing important. We will need a house in Paris, but once you know it you will love it too.
Nothing else, except you promise to cherish me."
"No need to ask that, but I promise." His arms tightened around her. She rested against him, fitting, feeling protected, though still not sure of him. "You're more desirable than any woman I've ever known," he said. "That's bad enough, but your mind is stunning too, and your scheming--no, that's a bad word--your flights of brilliance ..." For a moment he held her away from him, looking at her deeply. "You're a stunner, which ever way."
She smiled and did not move out of his arms.