White Satin

  She answered warily. “Really? What’s that?”

  “If you think I’ve earned it, could I have my hot chocolate now?”

  Chapter 7

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Dany asked anxiously as she set Anthony’s cup of coffee on the table by the couch. “You scarcely touched your dinner.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, a touch of impatience in his voice. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that this evening. What does it take to convince you, for heaven’s sake? I just wasn’t hungry.”

  She winced. She wasn’t used to that razor sharpness in Anthony’s tone any longer, and it hurt. “Sorry,” she said in a subdued tone as she sat down beside him on the couch. “It’s just that you’ve been so quiet all day and you didn’t eat much for lunch either.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m at death’s door,” he said caustically. “I do have a few things to think about, you know. One of which is how to get you to concentrate on those compulsory figures. The tracings on that second set were rotten. We have to return to Briarcliff tomorrow and you’ll leave for Calgary the day after. Time’s running out, and you’re still acting as if you can breeze right through the Olympics as if it were a regional competition.”

  She bristled. “You’re the one who told me I was overtraining. You can’t have it both ways, Anthony.”

  “You’re not going to have it any way at all if you mess up the compulsories so that you go into the freestyle with too much ground to make up,” he said grimly. “Those judges are tough as hell, and nationalism definitely enters into the picture, despite what the committee will tell you.”

  “I know all that,” she said, her lips trembling. “I also know I get impatient occasionally and screw up on the compulsories. I thought I was getting better about it, though. Were they that bad, Anthony?”

  “They weren’t good.” He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee. He made a face and set the cup back on the saucer. “That tastes terrible. What the devil did you put in it?”

  There was no pleasing him tonight, she thought crossly. “Next time I’ll let you make it yourself, since it appears you’re the authority on everything around here.”

  “Do that,” he said curtly. “If you can’t do something right, it’s better not to do it at all.”

  “So speaks the great perfectionist. Doesn’t your halo ever get a little heavy, Anthony?”

  “If you don’t maintain—” He stopped suddenly and shook his head as if to clear it. “Good God, what the hell am I saying?” His hand combed through his hair distractedly. “You’re right, I sound like some third-rate dictator.”

  “My thought exactly.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “And I didn’t think the workout today was all that bad.”

  “What?” He glanced at her absently. “No, you were fine,” he said vaguely as he got to his feet. “I’m thirsty. I think I’ll go to the kitchen and get a glass of water.” He strode out of the room, leaving her to gaze after him with puzzled eyes.

  She grew more puzzled and anxious as the evening wore on. There was no question now that there was something very wrong with Anthony, despite his protests to the contrary. His eyes were unnaturally bright and there was an unhealthy flush on his cheeks. He was obviously trying to control his mental processes, but his attempts at conversation often disintegrated into incoherence as he seemed to drift away. In a person as incisive as Anthony, that frightened Dany more than any of the other signs.

  Since she couldn’t get him to admit anything was wrong, she pleaded weariness and chose to make it an early night, hoping that she could get him to rest.

  When she came out of the shower, he was already in bed, lying stiff and still on his side of the double bed. His eyes were feverishly brilliant in his flushed face, and his dark hair was tousled. She took off her flowered peach silk robe and slipped under the sheet. For the first time since they’d come to the lodge, he didn’t reach out for her. She suddenly felt very cold and lonely. “Anthony?” she whispered. “Can I get you something? Maybe an aspirin or a hot drink?”

  “Nothing.” His voice was rigidly controlled. “I told you I was fine. Turn off the lamp.”

  “But there’s something wrong.” She felt so damn helpless. “Perhaps you’ve caught a cold.”

  “I haven’t caught a cold,” Anthony said with certainty. “And there’s nothing you can do to help. Now, will you turn out that damn light or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it.” She reached out and pressed the switch of the lamp on the bedside table. Oh, Lord, there was something wrong. Why wouldn’t he admit it and let her help? Was he really ill? She felt a cold rush of panic touch her heart. There was a particularly virulent strain of flu going around that was often accompanied by pneumonia.

  “Anthony, why don’t—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he interrupted with icy precision. “Good night, Dany.”

  “Good night,” she murmured unhappily. She closed her eyes but could feel the tears burning behind her lids. He mustn’t be sick, she thought frantically. She’d die if anything happened to Anthony now. He was lying so still, his body unnaturally rigid, and even though she wasn’t touching him, she was conscious of the heat emanating from him. Fever?

  She lay there in miserable silence for what seemed hours, but she must have dozed off finally. The next thing she heard was Anthony’s voice uttering soft curses in her ear and she lifted her head from his shoulder in sleepy bewilderment. Sometime during the night she must have rolled over and cuddled close to him, as was her custom. But there was something horribly different about him. “You’re shaking,” she said, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her eyes widening in alarm, she reached out and touched his shoulder. His flesh was so hot and dry that she inhaled sharply. “Anthony, you’re burning up. You must have a chill.”

  “No, not a chill,” he muttered. “I thought I could fight it off. Sometimes I can.” Suddenly he was sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of what?” She switched on the light to see him putting on his clothes with a haste that was hampered by the clumsiness of his movements. Clumsy? Anthony was always incredibly graceful. It was almost obscene to see that awkwardness in him now. Her throat tightened in fear. “Please come back to bed. You’re sick, Anthony. For heaven’s sake, listen to me.”

  “I’ll be all right,” he mumbled as he pulled his sweater over his head. He staggered a little and then steadied. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She was out of bed, yanking on her robe. “You’re not all right. Let me help you. I think we’d better get a doctor.”

  “I don’t need any help.” He was at the closet, pulling out his sheepskin coat. “I never need any help.”

  “You do now.” She was beside him and she tried to take the jacket from him. “You can’t go out when you’re burning up with fever. Go back to bed and I’ll make you comfortable. Then I’ll drive down to the nearest town and bring back a doctor.”

  “No, I’ll go.” He jerked the jacket from her and shrugged into it. “Go back to bed. I’ll send Beau up tomorrow to get you.”

  “Go back to … ?” She couldn’t believe it. He expected her calmly to go back to bed and go to sleep when she was practically frantic with worry! “Well both go, then.” She turned to the closet and yanked a sweater and a pair of jeans off the hangers. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  But he was already out of the bedroom and lurching unsteadily down the hall toward the front door. “Anthony, dammit, wait for me!” She clutched the jeans and sweater in her arms and ran after him. “You can’t drive yourself. That road down the mountain has hairpin curves. Even if you were well, it would be dangerous in the dark. Sick as you are, it would be suicide.” She grabbed him by the shoulder as he opened the door and a frigid blast of air invaded the hall. “Just for once, why can’t you give in and admit you need someone, that you need me?”

  H
e shook off her hold and turned to look down at her, his eyes reflecting only a burning ferocity in the stark harshness of his face. “Because I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone, and I never will.” He strode out of the lodge, leaving her to stare after him in stunned agony.

  Then she heard the soft roar of the Mercedes and she was galvanized into action at the thought of Anthony trying to negotiate those deadly curves.

  “No!” She ran out of the lodge toward the garage at the side of the chalet, but he’d already backed the Mercedes out and had started down the driveway. She ran after him, slipping on the ice and snow. “Anthony, stop!”

  The car was picking up speed, and she finally stopped when she realized pursuit was useless. Her breath was coming in little painful gasps. She wasn’t even aware of the tears running down her cheeks or the flimsiness of her robe that was her only protection against the frigid cold. She watched the taillights disappear around a curve. “Anthony!”

  She was still wearing the flowered robe when she opened the door for Beau the next afternoon. The tears, however, had long since dried, to be replaced by numb despair.

  “He made it down the mountain, then.” It was a statement, not a question. He’d said he’d send Beau to get her, and he’d kept his promise. If he’d catapulted off the mountain, it would have been the highway patrol knocking on the door. She’d been expecting that knock through all those nightmarish hours since Anthony left.

  “He made it.” Beau’s eyes were warm with sympathy. “Though God knows how. I had trouble negotiating some of those turns myself on the way up here.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. “He called me from the hospital and told me to get up here and take care of you.”

  “Hospital!” Panic roused her briefly from her apathy. “Anthony’s in a hospital?”

  “Only for a few days,” Beau said soothingly. “He’ll be out as soon as the fever goes down. It usually never gets this far. It wouldn’t have this time if he’d brought his quinine with him.” His hand reached out to touch her cheek with affection. “You should be flattered. He obviously wasn’t thinking of anyone but you when he left Briarcliff. That’s not like Anthony at all.”

  “Why should he have to take quinine with him?” she asked, brushing his hand away impatiently. “What’s wrong with him, Beau?”

  “Malaria,” he said, surprised. “Didn’t he tell you last night?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me,” she said dully. “He didn’t tell me anything. Malaria! How, for heaven’s sake?”

  “He got the bug several years ago in South America when we were touring with the Ice Revue.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I think it was in Brasília.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it was a pretty bad case. Malaria victims are subject to relapses because the bug stays in the system for a long time. So naturally Anthony always carries quinine.”

  “I never knew. He never told me.”

  “Is it likely Anthony would broadcast a weakness like that?”

  “No, not likely at all.” Despair washed over her again. “He’d never admit that he wasn’t totally invulnerable.” She closed her eyes. “He could have blacked out at any time last night.”

  Beau nodded. “But he didn’t,” he said quietly. “It didn’t happen. Don’t think about it.”

  “No, I won’t think about it anymore.” Thinking about it through those long hours last night had been enough for a lifetime, Dany thought. “Which hospital is he in, Beau?”

  He hesitated. “He asked me not to tell you. He wants me to take you directly to Calgary so you can become accustomed to the ice in that new sports arena they’ve built. He said he’d join us in a week.”

  “I guess I should have expected that.” She opened her eyes and there was only bleakness in their depths. “He’ll appear on the scene when he’s entirely strong again so no one will ever see the chinks in his armor. Not even me.”

  “It’s not that he’s afraid of appearing weak before you,” Beau said, his face troubled. “He knows his weaknesses and strengths better than anyone I know. He just won’t place you in a position where you’ll feel obligated to help him.” He opened his mouth as if to elaborate, but closed it again. “He has his reasons.”

  “And you know what they are, don’t you, Beau?” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Well, I don’t, and after last night I doubt if I ever will.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I actually thought I had a chance.” She wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn’t get warm. She wondered if she would ever be warm again. “Funny, isn’t it?”

  “You do have a chance,” Beau said gently. “So I know a little more about him than you do. We’ve gone through a hell of a lot together. Give him time, Dany.”

  “He could have died last night,” she said fiercely, her eyes suddenly blazing. “He could have driven off the damn mountain and been killed. And all because he wouldn’t let me help him. Because he wouldn’t admit he needed someone … that he needed me! Do you know what that did to me? What I went through last night?”

  “He was a sick man.” The gold flecks in Beau’s eyes were glowing softly. “Out of his head. You couldn’t expect him to act naturally.”

  “He was at his weakest point last night. If he wouldn’t take help then, he’ll never take it.” Her hands clenched on the silk of her sleeves. “I don’t think I could stand to go through another night like last night. And I know I couldn’t go through life with a man who refused to share the bad times as well as the good. I don’t want to live only on the surface of Anthony’s life, dammit!” She shrugged wearily. “I’m sorry, Beau. You can’t help any of this and I don’t have any right to cry on your shoulder.” She turned toward the bedroom. “If you’ll give me thirty minutes, I’ll get dressed and packed. You might turn the generator off. It’s in the utility shed out back.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said absently, watching her with troubled eyes as she disappeared into the bedroom.

  It wasn’t until they reached Briarcliff that Beau tried once again to pierce the wall that despair and bitterness had built. A troubled frown creased his forehead as he stood in the foyer and watched her start to climb the curving staircase.

  “I don’t like this, Dany,” he said quietly. “I know that what Anthony did hurt you, but don’t shut him out. I can practically see you turning hard before my eyes.” His smile was sad. “There are enough of us out there with calluses on our souls.”

  She turned to look down at him. “Not you, Beau,” she said softly. “You’re everything that’s warm and kind.”

  He shook his head. “You’re seeing the man you want to see, Dany.” His lips twisted. “I’m not really much different from the hellion I was seven years ago. I’ve grown up a little maybe, and I know who I am.” His gaze met hers. For a moment his eyes flickered wild and golden, and she had a fleeting memory of Luisa’s words. Golden-eyed devil. Then, that odd glint was gone and he was her steady, easygoing Beau again. “I can be just as ruthless and cynical as Anthony in my own way. You’ve just seen my charming big-brother side.” He sketched a mocking bow. “A side no other lady has been honored to view, I might add.”

  “You’re not going to convince me, you know.” The smile faded from her face. “And you’re not like Anthony. You wouldn’t have done what he did last night. No one with any human feeling would have.”

  “Sometimes it’s the people with the most intense emotions who make the greatest mistakes in human relations,” Beau said quietly. “And who can be hurt the most. Don’t try to put me on a pedestal, Dany.” His lopsided grin was bittersweet. “It’s always easy for me to be the charming southern gentleman because nothing has ever mattered a damn to me. I have a hunch that with Anthony it’s been just the opposite. He cares so much that nothing’s easy.”

  “Well, it’s not easy for me either,” she said wearily. “And I’m tired of fighting a losing battle. Anthony told me last night that he’d never need me. Never. And I believed him. I believe it even more today.”

  “Oh
, hell!” Beau ran his hand through his hair. “Look, you two have got to get this straightened out. If I tell you the name of the hospital he’s in, will you go see him and at least let him talk to you?”

  “You’d run the risk of Anthony’s ire?” she asked mockingly.

  “I told you I’ve never been afraid of Anthony.” His eyes met hers steadily. “I owe him, though, which is a very different thing, and I make it a habit always to pay my debts. Do you want the name of the hospital?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Anthony said it all last night.” She tried to smile. “And I don’t think I’m such a glutton for punishment that I want to hear it again.”

  “Dany—”

  “No!” She tried to temper the sharpness in her voice. “I don’t want to talk to him.” She started to turn away and then swung back around. “I do want to talk to someone else, however. Would you see if you can find the number of Anthony’s lawyer? I think his name is Donlevy or Donnely or something like that.”

  “Dunnely,” Beau supplied. “Why do you want to speak to him?”

  “We need to have a very important discussion before I leave for Calgary.”

  “We’re supposed to leave at once,” Beau said with a frown. “Can’t it wait until we get back?”

  “No. I doubt if we’ll be coming back.” She started back up the stairs. “I need to see him right away, but our business won’t take very long. If you can get him out to Briarcliff today, we’ll probably still be able to fly to Calgary this evening.”

  Chapter 8

  “Beau’s been looking for you for the last two hours,” Marta said as soon as Dany entered the hotel suite to join her and Beau for dinner. “He didn’t like the idea of you wandering all over Calgary by yourself.” She frowned. “I didn’t either. You never can tell what nutty terrorist group is going to try to use the games as a weapon to gain exposure for their cause. Remember Munich?”