don’t know about that. I probably would have been too scared. I’d have frozen on the spot.”
“That’s what you say now. Back then you would have done what had to be done. So let’s just drop it for now, okay? I think I’ll try to read for another hour and then turn in. Mickey might quiz me tomorrow.” Reuben said with a crooked smile. “Have you ever read Zane Grey, Daniel?”
“Yes, but I can’t say he’s a favorite of mine. It’s hard to believe Mickey likes that kind of writing. Sometimes I can’t quite figure her out,” Daniel muttered, his eyes already on the book in his lap. But he was only pretending to read. Someday…
Mickey’s surprise Thanksgiving feast stunned Reuben and Daniel.
“Is it a good surprise?” Mickey asked them. “Tell me the truth, is this like it is in America? I could do only what you described to me.”
“So that’s why you asked all those questions.” Reuben grinned. “It’s perfect. I’ve never seen so much food at one time. Who’s going to carve this magnificent bird?”
“You are, chéri. I will show you how.” She felt so wonderful standing next to him as she instructed him how to carve into the bird and then slice down. They loved her surprise. Perhaps, though, it would make them sad thinking about America. But when she looked up at Reuben, there was no sadness in his eyes at all; they held only warmth, dark and gentle, the way they always did when he gazed at her with love. She released her breath with a soft swooshing sound.
Their plates filled, Mickey surveyed her guests. “A prayer for this bountiful table is in order. Daniel, will you do it?”
Daniel nodded. “Bless us, oh Lord, for this bountiful dinner.” It was a short blessing because he was starving. The Lord would understand.
An hour and a half later, the Three Musketeers retired to the library for their coffee and pie. Thirty minutes after that, they were sound asleep on their respective chairs.
When they woke, tired and sluggish, Mickey suggested a walk and elicited a promise that afterward, Reuben and Daniel would teach her how to play poker.
“For money?” Reuben queried playfully.
“But of course. It is no fun to play for matchsticks or raisins.”
Reuben grinned. “What do you say, Daniel, a little five-card stud?” Already the walk was forgotten.
“Sounds good to me. Shall I explain the rules?”
“I must warn you, I have never been lucky at cards,” Mickey said ruefully. Three hours later Daniel and Reuben were down twenty dollars. Mickey had won the last three pots, the first with an inside straight, then a flush, and finally a full house. She laughed gleefully as she recorded her winnings.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get an inside straight?” Daniel grumbled. “And a full house. I’ve never had one of those.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Mickey said charitably. “Tomorrow will you show me how to shoot the dice?”
“Roll the dice,” Reuben muttered. “I suppose you want to play that for money, too.” It wasn’t exactly a question.
“If you want to play for raisins, it is all right with me. But money is so much more exciting,” Mickey teased, but then her eyes locked with Reuben’s. “I’m tired. Winning money is an exhausting business. Good night, chéris.” She blew kisses in their general direction, then mounted the stairs to the second floor. Reuben grinned. No kiss on the cheek meant he was to join her when he was ready. There would be other, more meaningful kisses.
It was near midnight, the witching hour, when Reuben made his way down the hall to Mickey’s room.
Mickey stood on the inside of the door, her ears attuned to her lover’s footsteps. She sighed. At first she’d thought he wasn’t going to come to her, but then she’d heard the water gurgling in the pipes and knew he was taking a bath. Earlier she’d done the same thing, just to be clean and fresh…for him. The door opened; she was in his arms and he was loving her.
The French silk robe fell open under his commanding fingers, and when he captured her breast, its pink nipple rose to greet him and bring him delight. Slowly he teased her ear with his tongue, following the pulse points to her neck and throat. He wanted her urgently, but he would take her slowly, deepening the pleasure. His hands traced the contours of her body, following its curves, caressing its hollows. He explored the depths of her mouth and the silkiness of her thighs. This was Mickey, his lover, as familiar to him now as the back of his hand and yet, somehow, always new territory to be charted.
Her emotions were charged, more finely tuned than ever before, and when he closed her hand over the proof of his desire, she communicated her own demands.
She hurried him with her kisses, excited him with her soft mewlings and murmurs, undulated beneath his caresses. She wanted him now, desperately. She felt she would erupt with a wildness too long contained. There would be time later for luxuriating in his arms, to have his hands soothe this fever, to have his lips take possession of her inch by inch. Now she needed completion.
Her thighs opened, her back arched, and he became a part of her. In the white heat of her passion she entrapped him, feeling him stroke within her, locking her legs behind his, to take him deeply inside her, where the warmth was building.
Her body exploded into thousands of shimmering, shattering jewels as the waves of her passion swept her under, and she rose to the surface crying Reuben’s name over and over.
Spent, they lay back in the mound of soft pillows. Their mouths touched, tasting of each other. They lay naked together without benefit of covers, and when they sought each other again it was with tenderness. Their mouths were gentle, and their fingers softly caressed. And when their passions quickened, Reuben calmed her with his touch and crooned soft words of love.
His mouth became a part of hers, and her heart beat in a wild, broken rhythm. They strained toward each other, caught up in the designs of yearning. Together they mounted the obstacles of the flesh and joined breath and blood, flesh and spirit.
Chapter Six
The day after Thanksgiving the air was cold and crisp. The sun shone in that particular light of late fall that was more silver than gold. Mickey and Reuben labored to polish the Citroën touring car on the pebbled apron outside the barn as the postman arrived. Mickey was on one side of the car and Reuben on the other, their eyes meeting every few seconds, their light laughter a pleasant sound in the afternoon quiet. Reuben’s eyes adored Mickey. She had changed since those early days at the hospital. Gone was the sophisticated lady. Her preferred dress was casual, soft clothing that barely skimmed her figure. Her slacks, a revolutionary style she had adopted, were nipped at the waist and fell in long straight lines to her ankles, her round bottom accentuated by the clever fit and tailoring. Even her hair, newly coiffed with a little fringe of bangs and a coronet of braids, gave her an air of simplicity and freshness.
Mickey read the happiness in Reuben’s eyes and took full responsibility. He’d told her earlier, when she’d handed him the polishing cloths, that he was happier than he’d ever been in his life thanks to her. “I don’t ever want this to change!” he exclaimed, his eyes darkening. “Do you hear me, Mickey? Whatever it takes, whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
She’d
