,I have already made the arrangements for a divorce from my present
husband, and Nicholas will resume his position at the head of Christy
Marine. it was true, Samantha knew then that it was true.
There was no question, no doubt, and slowly she replaced the receiver of
the telephone, and sat staring blankly at the bare wall of the cubicle.
She did not cry, she felt as though she would never cry, nor laugh,
again in her life.
Chantelle Alexander studied her husband carefully, trying to stand
outside herself, and to see him dispassionately.
She found it easier now that the giddy insanity had burned away.
He was a handsome man, tall and lean, with those carefully groomed
metallic waves of coppery hair. Even the wrist that he shot from the
crisp white cuff of his sleeve was covered with those fine gleaming
hairs. She knew so well that even his lean chest was covered with thick
golden curls, crisp and curly as fresh lettuce leaves. She had never
been attracted by smooth hairless men.
,May I smoke? he asked, and she inclined her head.
His voice had also attracted her from the first, deep and resonant, but
with those high-bred accents, the gentle softening of the vowel sounds,
the lazy drawling of consonthings that ants. The voice and the
patrician manner were 1 she had been trained to appreciate - and yet,
under the mannered cultivated exterior was the flash of exciting
wickedness, that showed in the wolfish white gleam of smile, and the
sharp glittering grey steel of his gaze, He lit the custom-made
cigarette with the gold lighter she had given him - her very first gift,
the night they had become lovers, Even now, the memory of was piquant,
and for a moment she felt the soft melting warmth in her lower belly and
she stirred restlessly in her chair, There had been reason, and good
reason for that madness, and even now it was over, she would never
regret it, It had been a period in her life which she had not been able
to deny herself. The grand sweeping illicit passion, the last flush of
her youth, the final careless autumn that preceded middle age. Another
ordinary woman might have had to content herself with sweaty sordid
gropings and grapplings in anonymous hotel bedrooms, but not Chantelle
Christy. Her world was shaped by her own whims and desires, and, as she
had told Nicholas, whatever she desired was hers to take. Long ago, her
father had taught her that there were special rules for Chantelle
Christy, and the rules were those she made herself.
It had been marvelous, she shivered slightly at the lingering sensuality
of those early days, but now it was over.
During the past months she had been carefully comparing the two men. Her
decision had not been lightly made.
She had watched Nicholas retrieve his life from the gulf of disaster. On
his own, stripped naked of all but that invisible indefinable mantle of
strength and determination, he had fought his way back out of the gulf.
Strength and power had always moved her, but she had over the years
grown accustomed to Nicholas. Familiarity had staled their relationship
for her. But now her interlude with Duncan had freshened her view of
him, and he had for her all the novel appeal of a new lover - yet with
