The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes Read online

  ‘Make love to me,’ she said, breathless, and he said, ‘I was,’ and she said, ‘No, condom, inside me,’ and he reached for his pants, and she thought, I hate having power, and let her head fall back and looked up at the tree that at least had all its branches still in place. Heavy suckers, too. You never did that before, she told the tree, and realized that to keep all those branches up there and not plummeting down on them, she was going to have to fake an orgasm. With the man she loved. Who was perfectly capable of blowing her mind. Literally. And who was going to leave her on Monday.

  Life sucks and so do you, she told the tree, and then he was beside her again.

  ‘Something you want to tell me about?’ he said.

  ‘I tried,’ Mare said and kissed him, pulling him down to her as she licked inside his mouth. ‘You taste good.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s you.’

  ‘I know. I just taste better on you.’ She rolled against him, and said, ‘Let’s try the old-fashioned stuff. You know, you inside me, moving in and out.’

  ‘Old-fashioned is good,’ he said, and tried to roll so she was on top.

  ‘No, real old-fashioned,’ she said, pulling at him so she’d be on the bottom. Missionary position. Harder to come that way. Plus, she could keep an eye on that damn oak tree.

  He let her pull him over her, balancing above her on his hands, and she wriggled underneath him, wrapping her legs around him, feeling him hard between her thighs.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’ he said, and she moved her hand down his stomach and let her palm slide against him, taking him gently while he sucked in his breath.

  I’m thinking yes,’ she whispered, tilting her hips and guiding him to her, and then he eased himself inside, and she drew in her breath and thought, Oh, God, I forgot how much I love him on top of me.

  He moved into her slowly, the way that always made her shudder, with his mouth on her neck, on that nerve that always made her shiver, and she looked up at the oak, checking on those branches as her eyes unfocused and thought, Oh, Christ, there was a reason I cried for him for a year, and lost herself in him, stroking her hands over his back as he moved inside her, tracing the lines of his muscles the way he loved as his fingers traced hers, biting the place on his shoulder that made him crazy as he whispered in her ear, tilting her hips at the angle that made him moan as he moved deeper inside her and made her gasp, loving the scent and the taste and the sight of him, drowning in the rhythm they made together, and five years fell away as if they’d been nothing, as if he’d never been away at all, except this time the throb and the heat and lust he built in her, the incredible grinding need she had for him had an ache behind it – he’s going to leave me - and even while the flutter in her blood began to itch and then to sear, even while she clenched herself around him, arched up into him and rocked hard against him – yesyesyesyes - even as the oak tree waved above them like a storm, all that time she was hanging on -dontcrydon’tcrydon’tcry - because it was too much to bear, he was going to leave again, he’s going to leave, all that glory, she was never going to have it again, never again, never again, never again, she rocked with rhythm of it, and so did the ground and the tree and her blood, and her breath came quicker, little gasps as he moved in her, hard in her, never again, neveragain, neveragain, again, again, again - tighter and tighter and then it all broke and she cried out in his arms, and held him to her, felt him shudder against her, too, and something soft as tears rained down on her, covered her as she sobbed but didn’t cry, great gulping breaths as she fought back real tears and rocked in his arms, breathing, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ over and over again, trying to get her breath back, holding on to him for dear life, afraid to let him go.

  ‘I love you, too,’ he said finally, when his breathing had slowed again, and then he picked something off her shoulder. ‘What is this?’ he said and held it up.

  Mare focused on it. Something blue. ‘A flower?’ She looked up at the oak. It had bloomed, little blue flowers everywhere. Violets. She looked over to the meadow and saw a bare patch in the wildflowers there. That’s where my tears went. I didn’t cry, I pulled the violets into the oak.

  Crash started to sit up, and she held him tighter. ‘Don’t leave me.’

  He pulled her closer, their damp bodies sliding together, and brushed the blue petals from her hair. ‘I thought that was an oak tree.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, now you’re a botanist,’ she said. ‘Kiss me.’

  He did, and she kissed him back and thought, My heart is breaking, and for once, drama queen of the universe though she was, it was true.

  * * *

  Xan stood in the middle of the room, silent in liquid silver silk, gripping the see glass that hung around her neck like a pendant as she tried to slow her breathing. Deep slow breaths, from the diaphragm, cleansing breaths, because if she didn’t, she was going to turn Vincent into something unfortunate, and that would be too good for him.

  ‘You’ve really completely lost your sense of humor, darling,’ Vincent said, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his satin lapel. ‘Jennifer meant nothing by that remark.’

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t.’ Jennifer was such an airhead, she didn’t have the concentration to mean anything by any remark. Xan opened the cupboard hidden in the silver paneling and took out a plain glass decanter of deep red wine, burgundy, like blood. I’m in the mood for blood.

  ‘When she said her grandmother had known you, she didn’t mean you were the same age as her grandmother,’ Vincent went on, his smile sly.

  ‘Of course I’m near her grandmother’s age,’ Xan said, taking down two goblets. ‘But Vincent, you’re older than her grandmother. Her grandmother slapped you for taking liberties when she was a teenager’

  Vincent’s smile vanished, and Xan filled the goblets.

  ‘Jennifer is a silly girl, but she’ll get older and wiser’ Xan handed him a glass. ‘Everybody does.’ She looked at Vincent’s stupid, smiling face. ‘Well, they get older anyway.’

  ‘I don’t think you quite understand,’ Vincent said, taking his wine.

  ‘I understand.’ Xan picked up hers and leaned back against the paneling, knowing the silver background was kind to her, along with the goddamn candlelight. ‘You’re turning into an old goat chasing much too young women who probably laugh behind your back.’

  Vincent sipped his wine and then checked his reflection in the silver mirror on the wall. ‘No, you really don’t understand.’ He smoothed back his already smooth white hair.

  ‘Jennifer has agreed to become my wife.’

  Xan’s hand tightened on her glass. ‘You proposed to that bubblehead?’

  ‘Two days ago. I think you and I had about run our course anyway, don’t you?’

  There was a rushing in her ears and the room shimmered a little. That would be the blood rush, Xan thought. And, of course, the rage. I’m being discarded by a moronic bastard before I could dump him. I really have to stop letting my work get in the way of my social obligations.

  ‘I know this comes as a shock.’

  ‘Only because I didn’t get there first,’ Xan said and drank more wine.

  ‘Oh, please.’ Vincent drained his glass and put it down on the table in front of her. ‘Everyone knows you’re mad for me. That’s why I waited until after tonight to tell you. I knew tonight was important-’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Xan straightened. ‘Are you telling me that everyone at the gala knew about this except me?’

  ‘Well, Jennifer wanted to show people her ring’

  Xan looked at his slack, arrogant face and thought, You were this close to getting out of here alive.

  He shook his head at her, smugly with faux sympathy. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do for you. My future awaits.’

  ‘Sit.’

  ‘Really, Xan,’ he began, straightening his white tie, and then he sat down, surprised.

  ‘I’ve been seeing you for exactly three weeks, Vincent,