Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

to drown all the fragmented debris of uncertainty. She was strong and Etienne viewed the world as his own personal domain. They could together solve each problem in the continuum of their love. She was too miserable without him. Work wasn't enough nor was duty comfort at night in the solitary emptiness of her bed. She gave in at last to the glowing tumult of love.

They undressed each other leisurely while the storm raged around them, the rhythm of their movements congruous only with their private insulated world. And they lay together on their rough bed oblivious to its rusticity. It was soft and scented, the crushed moss pungent in their nostrils, the artesian well cooling their fevered bodies as they played at love.

They had missed the passion of their union too much in the past weeks to rush, and with adolescent slowness they seduced their senses.

The rain cooled the air but they didn't notice, their bodies summer-hot and oblivious to the dropping temperatures outside. They made love as if each sensation were new, as if they'd never kissed each other or tasted each other or felt their skin touch… or felt the slow invasion and penetration that made the world drop away.

It was different, too, in that poetic way captured by erudite lovers through the millennia in lyric, meter, and tune.

Unique. Exquisite. Eager. Intemperate… Magic.

"Making babies is exhausting," Etienne murmured, a sweet and passionate interval later, Daisy nestled against his chest, his arms holding her gently close.

"Arrogant man," she murmured. "How can you be sure?"

"I heard the shaman drums," he said in a teasing whisper.

"Or your heart," she softly replied, the powerful rhythm of his heartbeat strong beneath her ear.

"Or yours."

"Or mine," she agreed, so tired suddenly she could sleep a month.

"You pick a name."

"Mmmmm," she drowsily murmured, sated and content and already half-asleep.

"Maybe I should pick one," he said with a grin, "unless that's a favorite Absarokee name."

Daisy was sleeping already, fatigued from their passion and her restive night past. Secure in her love. Reconciled and happy.

The Duc lay awake, holding—he reflected with unlimited joy—the mother of his child in his arms. Secure in his love. Reconciled and happy.

Etienne cradled Daisy in his arms on their ride back to Newport, their conversation the carefree, glowing kind in which the future offers endless joyful possibility.

He would come back to Montana with her, he said, and look into railroad building out West. He'd planned on going with Georges's expedition anyway, so his business managers could do without him for a few weeks.

Daisy smiled and he kissed her for the hundredth time that day, his need for kisses unquenchable.

"I could come to Paris after this next stage in our court battle with Hanna is concluded." She beamed up at him. "Say in three months."

"With Jolie and her family in Kentucky, maybe I could talk Justin into coming back with us to the States for Christmas. The crossing's only six days in my yacht."

"I didn't know you had a yacht."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Our life should be interesting."

"Plan on it."

Unalloyed bliss wreathed their lives and emotions.

Their plans were accommodating to each other's schedules, to the inflexible portions of their agendas, to their families and the seasons.

Daisy was wrapped in the Duc's leather jacket against the chill of the evening air while the fog creeping in from the sea shrouded their journey down Bellevue Avenue from the curious.

"I'll bring you to the Rutherfords', speak to your mother and father with you, go to Nadine's to change for dinner, and come back for you at nine." Licking her earlobe with the warm tip of his tongue, he added, "Where do you want to go tonight?" He was looking forward to being with Daisy again, like his personal Eden recaptured.

"Lily's having a dance," she sweetly said.

He groaned.

"Empress said the Gardners are putting on amateur theatricals tonight."

"Good, I can steal a kiss when the lights go down. The Gardners are my choice."

"Nadine's entertaining again, a string quartet from London."

"No."

She was pleased to hear the gruffness in his tone. "We'll go to the Gardners then. You can participate if you wish. Ella is always looking for promising thespians."

"The only acting I'll be doing tonight is playing the gentleman when I'd much prefer letting my carnal passions take over."

"Later," Daisy whispered.

"Where? Not at Nadine's. Someone pounding on the door is hell on my concentration."

"Why don't you stay at the annex again tonight? I'll have Trey find you a room with a terrace door outside and I can come to you later."

"This international polo tournament has definitely taken on a new and fascinating charm. I'll win the play-off game for you tomorrow."

"That means father and Trey would lose." Her loyalties were clearly divided.

"I'll lose the play-off game for you tomorrow," Etienne said with a grin. A man in love, he was willing to give his darling her heart's desire..

As it turned out, Etienne never participated in the play-off game because an urgent telegram from his steward was waiting for him when he returned to Nadine's. His business partners had combined with Isabelle and were trying to take over the railroad lines he controlled as majority stockholder.

He returned to the Rutherfords' within the hour, attired not in evening dress but casually in a light sweater and slacks, his belongings having already been transferred to his yacht.

When Daisy came down and saw him, she immediately said, "You're going back." She could tell from his grim face and restless stance.

"I have to. Come with me."

"What happened?"

And when he told her, she felt a great sadness. "Have you heard from Bourges?"

"I have different attorneys for business. He's not involved in this. Although I'll be dealing with him on the divorce as usual."

"Talk to him, Etienne. The nobility use him for divorce, but his major work is merchant banking. He knows the players. He can help."

"Come with me. Talk to him if you like." He wanted her with him; he