Creole Fires (21 page)

Alex’s eyes grew so dark, they looked black. A muscle bunched in his cheek. He said nothing more, just danced with her in silence. But when the dance was over, it was to François, not Thomas, he returned her. In spite of herself, Nicole felt pleased.

Though he tried to keep his attention on Clarissa, Alex found himself watching Nicole through dance after irritating dance. She looked beautiful in her shimmering white-and-gold gown, her copper hair swept into long, silky curls that cascaded onto each shoulder. Her soft, white breasts swelled invitingly, stirring a memory of how tantalizing they had felt in his hands. Every time he looked at her his body hardened and he had to glance away.

“I’ll expect you to be discreet,” Clarissa said, surprising him. She glanced at Nicole, but made no further comment.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered dryly. That
she cared so little bothered him for the very first time.
A mistress who loves you for money, and a wife who loves you not at all.
Nicki’s words. The words of a naive young girl.

Or the wisdom of a beautiful woman?

Just before supper, Valcour Fortier arrived. Alex knew he had been invited. Valcour was a member of the elite planter society, and though the two of them didn’t get along, Fortier had never openly done anything that Alex could object to. That privately he was cruel and sadistic, especially in his dealings with women, was a subject carefully glossed over.

“Congratulations,” Fortier said to Alex, brushing a light kiss on Clarissa’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Alex replied formally, accepting Fortier’s handshake.

He had to admit, Valcour was a handsome man. With his dark good looks and brooding black eyes, women usually found him attractive. Only Clarissa seemed immune. She smiled at Fortier’s flattery and accepted his invitation to dance, but was obviously not interested. Alex found himself almost wishing she were. He wondered with a bit of cynicism how Valcour Fortier would hold up beneath an onslaught of Clarissa’s dubious charms.

It wasn’t until sometime later that he spotted the Spaniard, as Valcour preferred to think of himself, dancing with Nicole. Even from a distance he could read Nicki’s nervousness. Just watching the way Valcour’s hand caressed her tiny waist made Alex’s stomach tighten.

“So, Mademoiselle Stockton is really Mademoiselle St. Claire.” Fortier was the first person who’d had the courage to speak the words.

“Do you find that distasteful, m’sieur?” Nicki asked.

“I find it amusing.”

Nicki stiffened. She had agreed to the dance because the man had backed her into a corner. He seemed to be good at that. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

Fortier smiled indulgently. “It’s warm in here. Why don’t we go out on the terrace?”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly. Fortier’s laughter was soft, too soft, an unnatural sound that made her shiver inside. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the way he had looked at her that day at the auction.

“Still afraid, little flower? You shouldn’t be. Had I bought your contract, you would not be here, but warming my bed. With me you would find pleasure like nothing you’ve dreamed.”

Nicole felt the blood drain from her face. She was grateful the music ended before Fortier had time to say anything more. Nicki thanked him for the dance, though it galled her to do so, and took her leave. When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she made her way out onto the terrace.

It felt good to be away from the strained conversation, the warning glances that Alex seemed to cast her way with each new man who partnered her. To his obvious chagrin, she merely smiled and kept on dancing.

The air felt cool on the terrace, but there were several couples nearby, and she wanted to be alone. Heading down the wide marble steps, she walked
among the rows of boxhedges along the path that led to the lake. Small oil lanterns trimmed with bright yellow ribbons lit the way.

Seating herself on a gray stone bench, she looked out across the moonlit lake toward the overhanging oaks in the distance. The evening breeze washed over her, soothing her ragged nerves. She found herself enjoying the solitude, content to be away from her problems, if only for a while.

She wasn’t there long before footsteps crunching on the oyster-shell path drew her attention, and a shadowy figure approached. Valcour Fortier sat down on the bench beside her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Nervously, she wet her lips. “I was just about to go in.” She started to rise, but Valcour pulled her back down.

“There is no need to hurry. It’s a beautiful spot, is it not?”

“Yes. Lovely.”

Valcour touched her cheek, turning it with his hand to study her profile. “Not nearly so lovely as you.”

Nicki turned away and started to rise, but Fortier’s grip on her arm forced her back down.

“You should have been mine,” he said.

Before she could stop him, his arms went around her and his mouth closed over hers. Nicki pressed her hands against his chest and tried to break free. She felt the first small stirrings of fear. Remotely she noticed he tasted faintly of tobacco, and his lips felt dry, but not unpleasant. When his tongue probed her mouth seeking entrance, she renewed her struggles,
but felt him jerked away so abruptly she almost toppled over.

“I believe Mademoiselle St. Claire was just leaving.” Alex voice held the hard edge of steel, and his eyes were so dark they looked as black as Fortier’s. He released his hold on Valcour’s shirt.

“So she said,” Fortier agreed, smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes. The skin over his high cheekbones looked taut, but his voice sounded even and controlled. “It seems your bargain was far shrewder than even you imagined,” he said to Alex. Then to Nicole, “Another time, mademoiselle.” With a slight, mocking bow, he turned and strode away.

Nicki sat down on the bench in silence, her heart hammering as if fighting to escape her chest.

“What are you doing out here?” Alex’s voice cut through her numbness. She looked up to find him scowling down at her.

“Spending a moment by the lake,” she told him, gathering the remnants of her composure. “Is that something else of which you don’t approve?”

“I’ve warned you about him. I thought you’d have enough sense to keep out of danger.”

Nicole set her jaw; her small hands balled into fists against her sides. “Forgive me, your grace. I shouldn’t have encouraged him, but after all, I find him so attractive.”

“Stop it.”

“Next time I’ll work harder to control my passions.”

“Stop it, damn you!” Jerking her roughly into his arms, Alex’s hard kiss silenced her. Nicki pressed her hands against his chest and tried to twist away, but
he held her easily, forcing her mouth open and plunging his tongue inside.

Nicki felt the heat of it, the swift jolt of desire, just before she tore herself free. Her breath came fast and hard as she fought for control. “You warn me away from him, but you are no better!”

Alex stood there, his wide chest heaving in and out. Finally his grim look softened. “I’m sorry,” he said, raking a hand through his wavy dark-brown hair. “You did nothing to deserve what I said.”

“Or what you did?”

Alex almost smiled. “It’s difficult to regret kissing you,
chérie
, when I’ve thought of little else these long days past.”

She felt the pleasure of his words like a blossom opening inside her. It only strengthened her resolve. “Well, you had better
stop
thinking about it.” With that she turned in a swirl of sheer white organdy and started back down the path.

“Two o’clock,” he called after her, reminding her of their afternoon meeting.

Just the sound of his voice piqued her fury, but she didn’t let it show. In truth, she was looking forward to their meeting. She had been wanting to get things settled. Tomorrow would be the perfect time to spring her little surprise.

Alex sat behind his carved mahogany desk working on a green, leather-bound ledger, but his mind lingered on Nicole. For the tenth time in the past few minutes he glanced at the walnut clock above the mantle. Five minutes till two.

If she wasn’t there by two-fifteen—and he wasn’t sure she would be—he would go up to her room and get her.

At one minute till, a polite knock sounded at the door and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Rounding the desk, he turned the silver doorknob to find Nicole in a sunny yellow day dress,
Grand-mère
standing at her side. One look at his grandmother’s serene expression said that whatever Rachael was doing there had nothing to do with what had happened between him and Nicole that night at the lodge.

“Good afternoon,
Grand-mère”
Alex said dutifully, with a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

“Bonjour
, Alexandre. You look as though you have recovered from the party.”

He had dressed casually in dark-brown trousers and a light cotton shirt. He wanted to set an informal
tone for his meeting with Nicole. He wanted her to feel at ease with him, the way she had before.

“And you,
Grand-mère?
Did you enjoy yourself?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. So much so, I have decided to come out of mourning for your father. It’s been quite long enough.”

For the first time, he noticed her pale-blue day dress. She had worn nothing but black since the day of her arrival. “Father would have approved.”

“Perhaps. In many ways I never really knew him. My husband—your grandfather—insisted on playing the larger role in our son’s upbringing, and I was young and foolish enough to let him.”

“I’m glad you and I were more fortunate,” Alex said, meaning it.

“Your mother made the same mistake,” she continued, “by letting Charles singlehandedly raise you.” Clucking her disapproval, she affectionately touched Alex’s cheek. “It seems none of the du Villier men has learned the value of a good woman.”

“Oh, I don’t know”—Alex smiled warmly at Nicki—“I believe we know enough to recognize a treasure when we find one.” His eyes roamed over her. “You should wear yellow more often,
chérie.
It more than agrees with you.” But then, she looked beautiful in just about anything—or nothing at all.

“I’m glad you approve,” she said lightly. Too lightly. Where was the temper he had left her with the night before?

He gave her a chaste kiss, too, though it was hardly what he wanted. The smell of violets drifted up, and he fought a sudden hardening in his loins. He liked the way her dress showed off her tiny waist, the way she wore her hair, in soft copper curls beside her
cheeks. But he didn’t like the way she smiled at him—as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Is there something you wished to see me about,
Grand-mère?”
he asked, intent on getting to the business at hand.

“It can wait.” She seated herself beside Nicole on the tufted leather sofa.

Alex cleared his throat. The little minx wasn’t getting off this easily. “I asked to see Nicole because there are some things we need to discuss.” He sat down in the winged-back chair across from them.

“Go right ahead,”
Grand-mère
said.

“In private,” Alex added. He had never known his grandmother to be so dense.

“D’accord,”
she finally conceded with a sigh. “I only stopped by to ask you to make arrangements for our passage. I have already checked with your friend Thomas. He says there is a ship departing for France next Saturday.”

“But surely you won’t be leaving so soon?” Alex arched a brow in surprise.

“I am afraid I have no choice.” Rachael explained about her friend’s ongoing illness and ended by saying, “At least I shall not be making the voyage with only a lady’s maid for companion.”

Alex frowned as an inkling of suspicion crossed his mind. “And just who will be traveling with you?”

“Why, Nicole, of course. We discussed the idea at length while you were away. It is the perfect solution,
n’est-ce pas?”

Alex clamped his jaw to keep from swearing. He fixed Nicole with a gaze meant to wither, but she only shrugged her shoulders. “It’s the perfect solution,” he agreed. “Except for one minor problem.”