Danielle Steel - Passion's Promise

“Not only are you drunk, but you’re a sloppy drunk. Just look at the Honorable Miss Kezia Saint Martin.”

“Why can’t I be Kezia Johns?” She sank back into the corner with her empty champagne glass, and waited for him to refill it, a pout taking over her face. He eyed her curiously for a long moment and cocked his head to one side.

“Are you serious or drunk, Kezia?” This was important to him.

“Both. And I want to get married.” She looked as though she were going to add, “And so there!” but she didn’t.

“When?”

“Now. Let’s get married now. Want to fly to Vegas?” She brightened at the thought. “Or is it Reno? I’ve never gotten married before. Did you know I’m an old maid?” She smiled primly, as though she had revealed a marvelous secret.

“Jesus, baby, you’re shitfaced.”

“I most certainly am not! How dare you say such a thing?”

“Because I’ve been supplying the champagne. Kezia, be serious for a minute. Do you really want to get married?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“No. Not right now, you nut. But maybe later this week. Depending on … well, we’ll see.” The accidental reference to the impending hearing had gone over her head, and he was grateful for that. She was thoroughly plastered.

“You don’t want to marry me.” She was getting close to champagne-induced tears, and he was trying hard not to laugh.

“I don’t want to marry you when you’re drunk, stupid. That’s immoral.” But there was a special smile on his face. My God, she wanted to marry him. Kezia Saint Martin, the girl in the papers. And here he was in a limo wearing Gucci shoes, on his way to a suite at the Fairmont. He felt like a kid with ten electric trains. “Lady, I love you. Even if you are shitfaced.”

“I want to make love.”

“Oh God.” Luke rolled his eyes, and the chauffeur slid into his seat behind the wheel. A moment later the car pulled away from the curb. Neither of them had seen the unmarked car drive up behind them. They were being followed again, but by now they were used to it. It was a fixture.

“Where are we going?”

“To the Fairmont, remember?”

“Not to church?”

“Why the fuck would we want to go to church?”

“To get married.”

“Oh, that kind of church … Later. How about getting engaged?” He looked at the signet ring on his hand again. He had been so pleased with the gift. But she saw the look in his eyes, and anticipated what he had in mind.

“You can’t give me that I gave it to you. That would be Indian giving, not a proper engagement … an Indian engagement? In any case, I don’t believe it would be for real.” She looked haughty and was listing badly to one side.

“I don’t believe you’re for real, Mama. But okay, if this one won’t do it, let’s stop and get a ‘proper’ engagement ring. What would you consider proper? I hope it’s something smaller than a ten-carat diamond.”

“That would be vulgar.”

“That’s a relief.” He grinned at her, and she dropped the haughty look for a smile.

“I think I’d like something blue.”

“Oh. Like a turquoise?” He was teasing, but she was too drunk to see it.

“That would be pretty … or a lapis patchouli….”

“I think you mean lapis lazuli.”

“Yes, that’s who I mean. Sapphires are nice too, but they’re too expensive, and they crack. My grandmother had a sapphire that …” He shut her up with a kiss, while pressing the button to lower the window separating them from the chauffeur.

“Is there a Tiffany’s here?” He knew all the right names now. For a man who hadn’t known the difference between a Pucci and a lap dog four months ago, he had learned the private dialect of the upper classes with astonishing speed. Bendel’s, Cartier’s, Parke Bernet, Gucci, Pucci, Van Cleef, and of course … Tiffany, everyone’s favorite supermarket for diamonds. And comparable stones…. undoubtedly, they would have something blue, other than turquoise.

“Yes, sir. There’s a Tiffany’s here. On Grant Avenue.”

“Then take us there before the hotel. Thanks.” He rolled the window back into place. He had learned that one too.

“My God, Lucas, we’re getting engaged? For real?” Tears sprang to her eyes as she smiled.

“Yes, but you’re going to stay in the car. The papers would really love this one. Kezia Saint Martin gets engaged at Tiffany’s, and the bride was noticeably inebriated.”

“Noticeably shitfaced,” she corrected.

“Excuse me.” He gently relieved her of the empty glass she’d been holding, and kissed her. They rode into town sitting close together in the back of the car, his arm around her, a beatific smile on her face, and a look of peace on his that hadn’t been there for weeks.

“Happy, Mama?”

“Very.”

“Me too.”

The driver stopped in front of the gray marble facade of Tiffany’s on Grant Avenue, and Luke gave her a hasty kiss and dashed from the car, with a sobering admonition that she stay there.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me. And don’t under any circumstances get out of the car. You’d fall flat on your ass.” Then, as an afterthought, he stuck his head in the window and wagged a finger at her slightly hazed eyes. “And stay out of the champagne!”

“Go to hell!”

“I love you too.” He gave her a quick wave over his shoulder as he dashed into the store. It seemed like only five minutes before he was back.

“Show me what you got!” She was so excited she could hardly sit still. Unlike other women at her age, this was the first time she’d gotten engaged.

“I’m sorry, baby. They didn’t have anything I liked, so I didn’t get anything.”

“Nothing?” she looked crushed.

“No … and to tell you the truth, they didn’t have a thing I could afford.”

“Oh shit.”

“Darling, I’m sorry.” He looked crestfallen and held her close.

“Poor Lucas, how awful for you. I don’t need a ring, though.” She suddenly brightened and tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but she was so tipsy that it was hard to keep it all in control.

“Do you suppose we could get engaged without a ring?” He sounded almost humble.

“Sure. I now pronounce thee engaged.” She waved an imaginary wand at him, and smiled happily into his eyes. “How does it feel?”

“Fantastic! Hey, far out! Look what I found in my pocket!” He pulled out a dark blue velvet cube. “It’s something blue, isn’t that what you wanted? A blue velvet box.”

“Oh you … you! You did get me a ring!”

“No. Just the box.” He dropped it into her lap and she snapped the lid open and gasped.

“Oh Lucas, it’s gorgeous! It’s … it’s incredible! I love it!” It was an emerald-cut aquamarine with a tiny diamond chip set on either side. “It must have cost you a fortune. And oh darling, I love it!”

“Do you, babe? Does it fit?” He took it from the box for her and carefully slipped it on her finger. Doing that was a heady feeling for both of them, as though when it reached the base of her finger something magic would happen. They were engaged. Christ, what a trip!

“It fits!” Her eyes danced as she held out her hand, looking at the ring from every possible angle. It was a beautiful stone.

“Shit. It looks like it’s loose. Is it too big?”

“No, it isn’t. No, it isn’t! Honest!”

“Liar. But I love you. We’ll get it sized tomorrow.”

“I’m engaged!”

“Hey, that’s funny, lady. Me too. What’s your name?”

“Mildred. Mildred Schwartz.”

“Mildred, I love you. That’s funny though, I thought your name was Kate. Didn’t it used to be?” He had a tender light in his eye, remembering the first day he’d met her.