Fire and Ice (The Americana Series Book 5) Read online

  His eyes travelled mockingly over Alisa's frozen expression even as he introduced his mother. There was interest but no friendliness in Mrs. Stuart's face as she greeted Alisa. In fact, Alisa got the impression that the woman didn't like what she saw.

  "I've looked forward to meeting you, Mrs. Stuart," Alisa managed to say politely. She was intensely aware that Michael had witnessed the interchange of hostilities between her and Renée and was amused. He was also very anxious to find a place beside Renée.

  "And I've wanted to meet you, the girl who managed to spirit my son away without any advance notice." Mrs. Stuart laughed a tinkling, teasing laugh that made Alisa feel uncomfortable. "Of course, he knew I always planned for him to have such a big wedding. And you know how men are about such functions; they're always so anxious to get them over with. Zachary, bring me some of your sherry. Then run along and talk about your winery with Louis as you always do."

  Zachary nodded his obedience and moved away. Alisa knew where her husband acquired such a dominating air, especially when Mrs. Stuart insisted that they sit down and get to know one another. Zachary returned with the sherry, waited while his mother sipped it, commenting, "It's very good, darling," then he seated himself in a chair next to Louis Gautier and Paul. Alisa was quick to note that Renée had draped herself on the arm of her father's chair nearest to Zachary. Her blue eyes glanced frostily at Zachary, who smiled wickedly back before turning to speak to Louis. Michael was busy trying to engage Renée's attention, without much success.

  "I understand you have a daughter," Mrs. Stuart drew her attention back.

  "A daughter? No, my little sister, Christine, is living with us," Alisa corrected. "Our parents are both dead."

  "Oh, how unfortunate for Zachary." She smiled with solicitous sweetness at Alisa. "And for you, too, my dear. I just meant that it was too bad that you two had to start out with family responsibilities immediately."

  "Christine has a trust fund, so she's really not a financial liability to us," Alisa retorted a little more sharply than she intended.

  "Who has control of this trust fund?"

  "I do," Alisa replied coolly.

  "That's good. Sometimes lawyers and bankers can be so insensitive to the needs of a child, if you know what I mean." Zachary's mother's smile was so ingratiatingly coy that Alisa had to grit her teeth to keep from making a sarcastic remark. "It was such a shock to me when Zachary called to tell me he was married. I wasn't even aware he knew you. Now that I've met you I can see why you entranced him so. You're very beautiful."

  "Thank you. That's a very nice compliment for a mother-in-law to make." The words practically choked her even as Alisa said them.

  "You're not entirely the type of person that I expected Zachary to choose. I always imagined that he would pick someone with dark hair and eyes, like himself. Of course your paleness is a perfect foil for him, but I've always thought similar couples are so much more striking. Now you and Paul would look so good together, with you both being so fair." The raised voice brought Zachary's gaze narrowing down on Alisa. The conversation was growing increasingly unbearable for Alisa and a severe strain to her manners. Mrs. Stuart smiled at her in a confiding yet apologetic way. "I must confess that the Gautiers and I always felt that Renée and Zachary would marry. It would have been so ideal, you know. The vineyards join one another to the north. And the Gautiers are such a respected and renowned name in California. Poor Louis is getting so much older and he only has Renée to inherit his holdings. For a time, she and Zachary seemed very fond of one another; marriage seemed the obvious step for both of them, which would have pleased both our families. But of course, that was before he met you, dear."

  Alisa wondered what Mrs. Stuart's reaction would be if she learned that her son and Renée were still quite fond of each other, and what would she think if she found out that Zachary had married Alisa for the sum of two hundred thousand dollars? It would probably make no difference, Alisa decided, since she had the impression that Mrs. Stuart was motivated by social position and not money.

  "I believe I've made Zachary quite happy in the short time of our marriage," Alisa commented, knowing of no other statement she could make in the face of Mrs. Stuart's obvious preference for a different daughter-in-law.

  "I'm sure you have." The woman patted Alisa's hand in dubious affection. "I just wish I could have met you sooner, but my son was insistent that you two should have time together alone before you met his dragon of a mother." Again the tinkling laughter.

  Unconsciously Alisa reached for a cigarette and held the lighter to it with her left hand. Her ruby ring flashed the reflection of the flame brightly.

  "Oh, is that your ring!" Mrs. Stuart exclaimed. "Such exquisite taste my son has."

  "Let me see it!" Renée rose from the arm of her father's chair with a flourish, moving gracefully across the small space to where Alisa and Mrs. Stuart were seated. Her delicate hand caught hold of Alisa's as she raised it higher to see the ring more clearly. "A ruby!" she cried, casting the amused Zachary a teasing glance. "It's my favourite stone!"

  Alisa had an unaccountable urge to tear the ring off her finger and hand it to the girl. Instead she smiled and thanked Renée politely, meeting Zachary's eyes for a moment before he turned his gaze to Paul who was addressing him.

  "How strange that Zach would pick a ruby for your engagement ring," Renée was saying with lilting huskiness to her voice. "It hardly suits you. Diamonds or sapphires would seem to be more in your order." The malevolent gleam was back in her dark eyes.

  "There have been misconceptions by other people before regarding what suits me, but they've been invariably wrong." Alisa held back none of the sarcasm in her tone as she met the brown eyes with a frosty glare of her own. If Renée wanted to do battle, Alisa decided that she might as well know she had a formidable opponent.

  "Mother, Alisa," Zachary interrupted. "Dinner is ready." He offered an arm to each, smiling down at Alisa in what probably seemed to most an amiable smile, but Alisa saw the warning look that was meant strictly for her.

  Zachary was seated at the head of the table with Alisa at the opposite end. Alisa was happy to see his mother seated to his left. Now she wouldn't have to tolerate any more of Mrs. Stuart's offensively kind remarks. She was rather surprised to discover that she was upset by the fact that Renée was on Zachary's right, her dark brown eyes already flirting outrageously at him. Michael was to Renée's right, trying to compete with Zachary as the centre of her attention. Alisa was able to quell the brief rise of anger by turning to Louis Gautier and his wife, who were sitting on each side of her. Mrs. Gautier was a very self-effacing woman, referring any opinions to her husband. Her excessive politeness and soothing manner greatly eased Alisa's tension. Paul was between the two older women, as usual charming both of them.

  As the meal progressed, Alisa became more and more conscious of deliberately avoiding any glances towards the opposite end of the table. But she couldn't stop hearing Zachary's voice, so low and so musical as he replied to Renée's questioning. There was no mockery, no amusement in his tone, only charm and interest. It was such a vast difference from their own conversations that always held an underlying air of jeering dislike.

  When the main course of roast rack of lamb arrived, Zachary poured a glass of rosé wine for each guest. Louis held his up to the light, studied it, smelled it, sipped it, then nodded approvingly to Zachary.

  "Light, fruity—yes, it is good." Louis Gautier smiled widely as he turned to cock his head towards Alisa. "Do you not find it so?"

  "I am not really a connoisseur of wine," Alisa apologized, noting the reverent way he had inspected it.

  "Ah, but you will learn. Zachary will teach you what qualities we look for in our wines. Has he shown you around the vineyards yet, and the winery?" At Alisa's negative shake of her head, Louis looked reprovingly at Zachary. "The harvest season is almost upon us. Soon you will not have time to take her around."

  "When Alisa and I have
been together, our thoughts have not been on grapes," Zachary smiled wickedly across the table at Alisa.

  "The mind of our new vigneron has been dwelling on his golden-haired wife and not on his golden-green grapes," Louis laughed. "That is what these lazy summer nights are for, while our succulent grapes grow heavy on their vines, huh, Momma?" Passing his plate to be served the dishes, Louis turned to Alisa and sighed. "It will be good for you to learn about the grapes and the wines so you will know what it is that your husband is doing all the time. You should learn the history and tradition that abounds in our valley. My papa came here in 1896 with his papa all the way by ship from Bordeaux. They brought with them cuttings from the finest vines to marry with the American vines. The soil was good and the weather was good, but still they had to protect their vines from mildew, black rot and disease. Their wines were good. Yet when I was twenty-five they sent me off to France for five years that I could learn at my cousin's winery and become a good vigneron. It was there I met Momma." He gazed fondly at his wife, who peered at him with a pleased yet shy look from behind her dark lashes. "My papa and grandpapa have long been gone from us, but still we grow the grapes. From forty acres, we now own over five hundred acres. I would have bought this vineyard, too, but I am growing too old, and my daughter has not provided me with a son-in-law."

  "Papa, now that Zachary has been stolen away from me, who is left?" Renée laughed enchantingly at her father while eyeing Zachary with mock remorse. Alisa's teeth clamped tightly together as she met her husband's penetrating gaze.

  "I have often wished that Zachary were my son," Louis nodded. "But it is not so. He is going to have a splendid vineyard one day. In a few years he will not have to sell any of his grapes to other wineries, for he will be bottling them all himself."

  "There will be few sold this year," Zachary told them. "I have purchased more cooperage, which arrived last week."

  "What kind?" Louis's eyes lit up with an anticipating glow.

  "Stainless steel," Zachary replied.

  "After dinner you must take me to see them," Louis ordered, lifting his glass towards his host before bringing it to his mouth.

  Zachary returned his smile before his gaze slid to Alisa's knowing look. At last she knew where he had spent the money she had given him. She had had such a niggling doubt about it ever since she arrived at his home and discovered his large two-storey brick house so tastefully furnished. His dark eyes danced with mockery at her nearly evident relief. To avoid him Alisa turned to Mrs. Gautier and struggled to carry on a conversation with the gentle, quiet woman.

  The men paused politely with the women at the end of the meal. Michael cornered Alisa for a moment, tossing in a few jibes about the ruby that "her" money had bought.

  "You're really trying to make this marriage look real," he jeered. "I don't think that ring is going to hold back Renée. She's a hot little tamale and she wants Zachary."

  "Michael, you know this never was a love match," Alisa reminded him, her irritation growing.

  "Still, you didn't seem too happy about the way they carried on at the table," he pointed out.

  "Neither did you," she retorted, trying to keep her voice low so the rest of the guests couldn't hear. "Is the competition too stiff?"

  "Maybe, cousin dear, maybe." Michael lifted his glass of wine before sauntering off in Renée's direction.

  The men exchanged a few more pleasantries with the women before Zachary led the way towards the winery to show his new purchases to Louis. Once they had gone the conversation was controlled by Mrs. Stuart and Renée. Alisa sat quietly on the couch beside Mrs. Gautier wondering how she could tolerate being so obviously left out of the conversation. But Mrs. Gautier's attention was on her daughter as if she marvelled that anything so vivacious and volatile could have come from her. Alisa wondered, too.

  She found her eyes wandering to the clock, wishing the time would pass more swiftly so that this tedious afternoon would come to an end. Alisa even caught herself wishing that Zachary would return from the winery so that his vitality would fill the room and stamp out the presence of these two boring women. But the pendulum of the mantel clock swung slowly and the ticking tempo couldn't drown out their voices. When she discovered her fingernails were making marks in the palm of her hand, Alisa decided she had had enough. With the excuse that she wanted to freshen up, she left the room.

  Upstairs in the seclusion of her room, her pose of cool sophistication fell away. She glared into the mirror, suddenly angry at Zachary for ever having the dinner in the first place. He must have known what kind of woman his mother was. And springing Renée on her without any warning had been a choking humiliation. Alisa stared at the bottle of Chanel Number 5 on her dressing-table. She picked it up, carried it into the bathroom, and poured it down the sink. That was the fragrance that Renée had been wearing. Alisa discovered she hated it! A short, hollow laugh escaped her lips as she realized that the perfume was probably the most expensive drain freshener that had ever been used.

  Re-entering her bedroom, Alisa wondered how long she could stay up here before her absence would be considered a breach of etiquette for a hostess. If it wouldn't be conceding victory to Mrs. Stuart and Renée, she wouldn't bother returning. Her pride wouldn't allow her to acknowledge defeat. She reapplied her lipstick, remembering how Michael had referred to it as putting on warpaint. In this case that was exactly what it was.

  "Oh, this is where you are," Renée drawled from the doorway, poised in its frame like a model making an entrance, before swishing into the room. "I decided I'd better do some freshening up before the men returned."

  Alisa hid her surprise quickly, smiling coolly in welcoming Renée into her private room. "I doubt whether the men, being what they are, will even notice that we've done anything," she murmured, watching Renée fussing with her hair in front of the mirror.

  "Zachary will notice. He always does, you know." There was an intimacy in her reply that threatened to curl the hair on the back of Alisa's neck.

  "Really? But then I'm sure you could tell me about a lot of Zachary's little foibles," said Alisa, hoping her shaft of cold sarcasm had found its mark.

  "Yes, I could." The light of battle was in Renée's eyes as she turned to face Alisa. "Zach and I have been close, very close, for a long time. As he has often said, we're two of a kind."

  "Perhaps that's why he tired of you," Alisa retorted sharply.

  Renée's face paled slightly before it was flooded with colour. "Is this your room?" With deadly calm, she changed the subject, or so Alisa thought when she replied that it was. "That's strange. I expected you to be in the master bedroom next door to where Zach sleeps. Why do you have separate rooms? Has he tired of you?"

  "I can answer that one," a bright voice rang out from the door.

  "Christine!" Alisa exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

  "I thought I'd find out how the party was going and the dark-haired lady in the blue dress said you were up here." After answering Alisa's question, the child turned towards Renée. "I know why they don't sleep in the same room."

  "Chris, you shouldn't be talking about such things," Alisa interrupted quickly.

  "Let the child talk," Renée smiled. "This should be very interesting."

  "I asked Zach one morning why you two didn't sleep together like Mommy and Daddy did." Chris's voice rang with authority before a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You know what he told me? He said that Alisa snores so loud that he can't sleep!"

  Alisa met the triumphant glance from the dark-haired girl as she grasped Christine by the shoulders to usher her out of the room.

  "Can I sleep with you sometime, Lisa, so I can hear you snore?" Chris asked plaintively.

  "No. Now run along outside and play," Alisa ordered sharply.

  "It seems I'm not the only one who's commented on your sleeping arrangements," Renée laughed. "They're hardly what one would expect from a newly married couple."

  "This is a personal matter b
etween Zachary and myself." Alisa turned away, unable to combat the frontal attack.

  "Do you expect to be able to hold him by keeping him at arm's length?" Renée jeered. "That may have been the way you got him to marry you, but, honey, you'd better come across with the goods or you're going to lose him."

  "And you'll be right there to catch him, won't you?" Alisa reached for her cigarettes, hoping her hand wouldn't tremble and reveal how thoroughly Renée's jibes were getting through.

  "You bet I will! He's a virile, passionate man and I know how to satisfy him." The long dark locks were tossed over her shoulder in a positive gesture. "You noticed the way he looked at me today. You can bet he's got a lot to remember about what went on between us. I intend that he'll have a lot more."

  "Isn't it dangerous, giving away your plans like this to the enemy?" Alisa queried coldly.

  "Not with you it isn't." Smug sarcasm rang harshly in Renée's voice. "You're a very lovely but cold work of art. You may have the equipment to keep him, but you don't know how to use it."

  "I may not know how to swing my hips provocatively and sway them in front of a man, or how to simper and pander to his ego. But I will not tolerate you mooning over him in my presence, making eyes or whatever you call it. If you think for one minute that I'm going to let you throw yourself all over my husband without doing a thing about it, you're wrong!" Her voice shook with enraged anger as Alisa faced Renée. "There will be no more secret meetings or intimate chats on the telephone. Never again will I allow you into this house to—"