Chapter 7

Diana rolled over in the bed. Her long, graceful arms reached out to hold her husband. But only found emptiness on his side of the bed.

She pushed her sleep-laden eyes open and stared beside her. Michael's side had been slept in, but it was empty now. She quickly glanced around the room. Her husband was gone.

"Hrmph!" she snorted out loud. "Not much of a way to treat your bride on the second night of your marriage!"

Then she remembered the man in the passage and was grateful that her husband hadn't awakened her.

It's passed now. Let it be. There's no reason that Michael needs to know. Not now at least. He's upset enough as it is, at having had to make this trip to his family's home. I'll tell him later, when we're away from here. Later... maybe...

She rolled to her back and stretched. It would be nice to have Michael now. He's good in the morning. Hell, he's good any time!

She smiled and pulled his pillow to her and hugged it. She could detect the slight smell of him. She shivered, wishing the pillow was her husband, imagining she was holding him close while he was atop her.

No! Forget it! she scolded herself. No reason to get yourself hot and bothered. Michael's not here!

Groaning with disappointment, she tossed the imaginary Michael-pillow back to the other side of the bed, gave it a loving pat, then swung herself out of the bed. After a few moments in the bathroom, tending to the regular morningly duties, she came back into the bedroom and selected a pair of burgandy hip huggers and a cream-colored blouse from the suitcase. Not sure how the Hightowers would take to the braless look, she also pulled out one of those thin, very sheer, nylon bras, that did little more than keep her nipples from poking out under her blouse. Her breasts were still firm, even without a bra; they did little more than jiggle around pleasantly.

Quickly stepping into her casual, but attractive, clothes, she glanced longingly at the empty and unused bed once more, then made her way downstairs.

The mansion seemed deserted. She made a quick check of the room she had been in the night before, but could find no one, let alone her husband.

Deciding that if she had been left to fend on her own, she'd do something about the growing hunger in her stomach. After all, it was time for breakfast.

With little difficulty--she did make two wrong turns that led her to the den--Diana located the hall leading to the kitchen.

"Good morning," Lorraine cheerfully greeted her as she swung the door into the kitchen. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," Diana smiled at the blonde-haired woman, finding herself still disbelieving Lorraine was the mother of two teen-age children.

If I can only hold my age as well! she thought, but said, "Where is everybody?"

Her mother-in-law smiled and offered a cup of coffee, which she accepted, as well as two pieces of toast and several slices of crisp fried bacon.

"Your Michael got up earlier this morning and drove in to the courthouse. Both the girls went along to do some shopping," Lorraine said, seating herself at the breakfast counter with Diana, nursing her own coffee. "Bryan and my Michael are around the house somewhere."

Diana listened as the woman talked, mostly idle conversation about her family and the Hightower estate. However, Diana couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine really knew what was going on with her family. Did she know that her son and daughter had shared anal intercourse last night, shared it and enjoyed? And did she know that they were both their stepsister's lovers?

She smiled to herself, remembering the lusty scene she had witnessed from behind the one-way mirror last night.

Then the memories of the man in the dark came to her again. Less distressing than last night, but still perplexing.

"Look, Diana," she heard her mother-in-law suggest. "It's a beautiful day. Why don't you go outside and see our place? It's really rather beautiful. Michael One did most of the work himself."

"I think I will," Diana agreed, mostly because she wanted to think. "I'll be back shortly to see if I can help with lunch."

"Don't bother," the older woman answered. "I'm just going to throw some cold cuts together. Take your time. I might come out and join you in a little bit."

Nodding, Diana left her mother-in-law alone in the kitchen and left the immense plantation house via the back door.

It was a nice day, spring warm, but lacking the humidity that comes with Louisiana summers. A light breeze added to the fresh feel of the day. A mildly, sweet scent of the blossoming magnolia trees suffused through the air.

Moving idly and without any set purpose, Diana walked away from the house. She stopped once and reached down to remove her shoes. The St. Augustine grass, with its broad flat blades, was a thick green carpet that felt cool and alive under her bare feet. It was almost a sin to walk on this grass with anything but bare feet. Beautifully manicured, the lawn of the Hightower estate was almost a work of art.

Who had it been?

Despite the marvelous feel of the day, her thoughts kept returning to the secret passage, the alcove with its sexy viewing arrangement, and the man who had fucked her so thoroughly, the man she hadn't seen--only felt!

"Good morning!" a voice called to her, her husband's voice.

She pivoted, glad that he had gotten the legal business out of the way so quickly. But it wasn't Michael that was coming toward her. At least, not her Michael. Rather, it was her husband's father.

"You look especially lovely this morning. The way all new brides should," he smiled at and received a smile in answer. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. "Lorraine suggested I come out and see what you've done with the landscaping. I'm glad I took her up. It's beautiful."

His face beamed with pride, "Thank you. I won't be humble about it. This took a hell of a lot of work and I did most of it by myself. I guess it's the New England farm boy I never was coming out in me. There's something special about planting things and watching them come to life."

She smiled, then chided, "Don't tell me you're responsible for these magnolias!"

"No," he chuckled. "They were here when I bought the place. But they were in bad condition and I did nurse them back to health."

"A man with a green thumb," she laughed.

"Thumbs don't get green by working with the earth," he corrected. "They get dirty."

She laughed again. Last night, she had decided she liked her new father-in-law and those feelings were being confirmed now. "Is there anything special I should see? Any labor of love you're especially proud of?"

"Why of course," he smiled, offering her his arm, which she took. "The pond is just over there. If you'll kindly come with me."

The walk was farther than Diana anticipated. The mansion had disappeared behind them, hidden by the small forest of magnolias. But it was worth it. Michael One's pond was special.

Skirted by trees on all sides, the small pool of water was clear and calm looking. To one side was a small clearing, complete with a picnic table and benches.

"I had to call in the bulldozers to help me with this, her father-in-law explained. "It's my design, though. The pond's spring fed and most of the year it's downright cold, which keeps the snakes away."

"Snakes?" Diana glanced up at him.

"This is bayou country. There's plenty of cotton mouths around," he answered. "But don't worry. Like I said the water is plenty cold, too cold for them. But on a hot summer's day, this pond beats the hell out of a swimming pool. Lorraine and I often sneak away from the house during the summer for a little skinny dippin'."

Diana laughed. It was quite easy for her to picture her father-in-law and his sexy wife swimming nude in the pond. He might be in his fifties, but he still presented a virile image. The humor, however, was Diana's mental images of Bryan, Paula and Kate doing exactly the same thing without the knowledge of their parents. This quiet, little pond had probably been the scene for more than one of the sexual romps the threesome had shared.

"Your home really is something special," she commented, as they paused, leaning against the trunk of one of the towering trees.

"We think so," Michael One smiled at her. "There's a lot here to work with and we're always finding something new, some remnant of this estate's history."

"Like those cellars they used to keep runaway slaves in until passage north could be arranged?" Diana asked.

"Mmmm hmmmm," he nodded, gazing out over the pond. "Or some buried wagon wheel. Or like those andirons for the den's fireplace. I found them while the workmen were digging this pond. There must have been another house out here at one time. Perhaps a guest house. If not, then I discovered the Duvalle's old trash dump."

She chuckled with him at the thought of the antique andirons once being someone else's garbage.

"This whole place is like the house," he continued.

"Full of those quirks you mentioned last night?" she asked.

"Right," he smiled at her, his eyes locking to hers. "Did you know that the house has secret passages?"

"Yes..." she suddenly stopped.

It hit her all at once, like a ton of bricks!

Her father-in-law's eyes flashed with a devilish glint.

He knew!

And she knew!

The man in the alcove had answered to the name Michael last night! He had sounded like her husband! Michael One sounded like her Michael! They were both the same size. The similarities were unbelievable!

"You!" she gasped. "It was you!"

Her hand lashed out, fully intent on slapping her father-in- law's face. It was silly, a childish reaction. But at the moment, it was all that she could think of; all she could do to relieve the anger and the embarrassment that flushed through her body.

But even that was ineffectual!

His own arm jumped up and grasped her wrist. Her anger growing, she slapped out with her other arm. Which again, he blocked, raising both her arms above her head and pinning them firmly against the rough trunk of the magnolia. She struggled, twisting to free herself, but he held her solidly.

"You bastard! It was you!" she spat. "You were the man last night! You... you... rapist!"

He chuckled and grinned at her, "Rapist?"

"Yes, you son of a bitch!" she grunted, still trying to wrench her wrist free of his one vise-like hand.

"Come now," he chided, his eyes laughing with amused delight. "Surely you don't expect me to believe that. I doubt whether you've been able to convince yourself that it was rape!"

Her knee lashed out, directed toward his groin. A measure he had apparently been anticipating, since he easily sidestepped the would-be painful thrust and laughed, obviously enjoying the position he held his daughter-in-law in.

"My dear Diana, you wanted it as every bit as much as I did," he grinned lewdly down at her, knowing. "You never so much as tried to get away from me. And I know you could tell I wasn't my son."

She kicked out again, but it was a vain effort. He was now positioned beside her, out of reach.

"You bastard!" she hissed, renewing her struggle to get away from his hand, but he held her tight

"I only did as you asked," he continued smiling at her. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do a damn thing until you asked me to. Unless you want to count my copping a feel of those marvelous tits of yours."

Again she twisted and writhed and again her struggles received the same results. Nothing!

"And you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it as much as I did," he went on. "My God, girl, you had one of the strongest climaxes I've ever seen in a woman!"

"No! That was not rape," he concluded. "One of the farthest things from rape I've ever seen!"

"Yesss!" she hissed. "It was! You raped me!"

"No," he answered simply, as he reached up and tightly grasped her chin with his free hand. "No."

His head dipped forward.

He's going to kiss me!

The thought jolted her. It was the last thing she had expected.

The conceit! The egotistical bastard!

She tried to jerk her head away, but his clamping fingers held her steady and immobile. Lightly his lips brushed over hers, then his head rose and he smiled, as she glared with indignation.