Chapter 73

Merlyn looked at Steven and wondered what to say. They were in the limousine again, driving back towards San Francisco, back home. Although it wasn't really home, was it? Just a hotel suite.

But somehow, it felt like home to Merlyn.

She was beginning to love San Francisco, love everything about it, its sights, its hills, its people, its bay, its bridges. And Steven, the aging Frisco Kid who had changed her life completely in less than three weeks, to an extent she would never have believed possible.

Did she love Steven? Well. That was a difficult question. She loved him, yes. But she wasn't exactly in love with him. There was a difference, wasn't there?

She loved him enough to accept him into her bed, to share her days and nights with him, even her innermost thoughts, desires and dreams. But was she ready to spend her life with him? She wasn't sure.

He put his palm gently on her knee. "You know. You don't have to give me an answer right away. Take your time. Sleep on it." He grinned nervously. "Just don't sleep too long!"

She smiled back. But inside, she wasn't smiling. She was trying hard to think this through properly.

Back at the Moon Mask Night, making love to Steven in that roomful of people, intoxicated by the sounds and sights of other beautiful people making love, by the hypnotic music, the mist and moonlight, the drug-heavy air, she had thought this must be what bliss must be like.

The tantrics had it right: Sexual ecstasy at its pinnacle was a form of nirvana. But now, as they were driving back at 5 a.m., sex was the last thing on her mind - and Steven's as well, it seemed.

Because he had just proposed to her. In a way. "We make a good trio," he had said, showing her the diamond ring. "You, me and Frisco. Stay with me. Formal or informal, it can be any way you like. But stay."

And she didn't know what to say to that.

Because she wasn't in love with him. While he clearly was. He was completely, totally, outrageously in love with her. That was why, even at the height of the Moon Mask Night, she hadn't accepted or sought out any other lover.

Only Steven.

Not because she wasn't tempted - hell, she was. Or because none of the other men (or women) were tempting. They were. But simply because she knew just before the orgy started that Steven was so nervous and anxious about it, that he wouldn't be able to bear seeing her make love to another person. And now she knew why.

She knew why he had been so jumpy, edgy, fidgety, ill-at-ease, the whole evening and night.

He wanted to marry her. Or at least have her move in and live with him more or less permanently - "formal or informal, any way you like" - which came to the same thing.

And she wasn't ready for it yet.

He must have seen something in her face because he smiled in the darkness of the limo. "Hey. Don't burn your brains out thinking so hard, just sit back and relax. We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay? We've got all the time in the world to decide, right? And meanwhile, it's a great view."

He gestured out at the breathtaking sight of first light starting to break over the distant hills of California, across the bay. They were driving over the Oakland Bay Bridge.