Creole Fires (34 page)

“Good evening, m’sieur,” she said instead, working to keep the tremor in her hands from reaching her voice.

As Nicki descended the last few stairs, Alex strode toward her, his long, muscular stride carrying him swiftly. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her,
his mouth so hot and demanding that Nicki found herself clutching his neck.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, when he finally pulled away. “What about your overseer and the problems with the harvest?”

“The overseer is going to be fine, just a gash on the arm and a minor concussion. The problems are resolved for the present—and I missed you so damned much I couldn’t stay away.”

Nicki’s heart felt near to bursting.

“Ask Betsy to get me some supper,” he told Frederick, taking Nicki’s hand, “and bring a goblet of wine for each of us.”

Alex led Nicki into the salon, his eyes fastened on the gentle rise and fall of her bosom. He felt a tightening in his groin just to look at her. Even in her simple blue serge dress, she looked beautiful;—and far more tempting than he could have imagined. Her cheeks were flushed from his kiss and her pretty aqua eyes tenderly searched his face.
She’s glad to see me, too, the little minx. Even if she won’t admit it.

And Nicki wasn’t about to. Now that she had recovered from her surprise, she realized exactly why he had come. Three times each week, he had gone to see Lisette. If it weren’t for the harvest, Nicki was certain he would be pounding on her door with equal regularity.

The more she thought about it, the more disgruntled she became. By the time Alex had finished his meal of cold roast chicken, bread, and cheese, and downed his goblet of wine, her temper felt close to bursting.

Alex seemed not to notice. “You look tired,” he
said, a teasing light in his eyes. “I think it’s time we went upstairs.”

“I’m not tired at all,” Nicki told him, and Alex’s soft look faded. “In fact, I think I’d enjoy a walk in the garden.”

“I’ve come some ways,
chérie.
I’ve worked hard all week, and I’m too damned tired to play your childish games.”

“You may think they’re childish. I do not. I’m not your mistress, Alex, as you seem set on thinking. I’m not now, nor will I ever be your willing bedmate. Excuse me,” she said, standing up. “I’ll be out in the garden.” Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Nicki started for the door.

“Maybe you’re right,” Alex agreed, catching up to her in two powerful, angry strides. “A little exercise might be just the thing.” But instead of heading outdoors, he drew her firmly against him, slid an arm around her waist, and against her protests, led her up to their room at the top of the stairs.

“Come here,” Alex ordered once the door was closed, his eyes dark and hungry. “I’ve waited far too long already.”

“No,” Nicki said firmly, backing away from him.

Alex clamped his jaw. Forcing a calm he obviously didn’t feel, he shrugged out of his coat, pulled off his boots and dropped them onto the floor, then removed his shirt.

Drawn to the sight of his wide bare chest, the soft thatch of curly brown hair that beckoned in the warm yellow glow of the lamp, Nicki wet her suddenly dry lips. Alex unbuttoned the front of his trousers and slid them down his long, muscular legs, the sound a slow
whoosh
that sent gooseflesh dancing across her skin.

“Damn it, Nicki, I know you’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!” He sighed. “Shall I tie you up again?” he asked. “I can, you know, though I’d rather feel your arms around me.”

“How can you enjoy this when you know it’s not what I want?”

“It’s exactly what you want,” Alex replied, his eyes roaming over her. He hadn’t missed her suddenly shallow breathing, or the taut pink nipples that strained against her bodice just from watching him undress. “It’s exactly what we both want.”

Naked and aroused, he strode toward her. Nicki glanced from right to left, but before she could think to move, Alex had her by the waist, turning her back to him. With practiced ease, his fingers worked the tiny covered buttons on her dress, then he pulled open the bodice, and slid it off her shoulders. Next he unfastened the tab on her petticoats and drew her from the fluffy folds in only her corset and chemise.

Now
, her mind said.
Run from him now.
But she really didn’t want to, and there was no place for her to go. She stood there half-naked, thinking how easy it would be to let him love her, how easy to succumb to his charm. She wanted him, had from the moment he’d stepped into the foyer. Only her pride kept her from him. Only her pride—and her honor.

Alex tugged on the laces of her corset and it fell away. Deftly, he pulled the pins from her hair, and the silky copper mass tumbled loose around her shoulders.

You made a vow
, she told herself firmly. If she fought him, at least the servants would know for certain
she wasn’t there by choice. As Alex fumbled with the sash to her white cotton drawers, Nicki mustered her courage and jerked away from him.

“If you intend to take me, you’ll have to do it by force.”

Alex swore softly, but seemed unsurprised. “When was your last monthly?” he asked, the question so far from what she expected that Nicki’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

“Your last monthly?” he repeated, as if she weren’t quite bright. “When was it?”

“Last week,” she said, “but what has that got to do with—”

Alex cursed again, this time more soundly. “I shall bed you every chance I get, until you carry my child.”

“What?” Nicki drew farther away. “But what difference …?” She broke off in mid-sentence as the light of understanding dawned. “That’s why Ram is planning to leave after the harvest. Your damned masculine pride is so great, you’re sure I’ll be with child!” Nicki’s bosom heaved, and she clenched her hands into fists. “You think that will change things—that I’ll be forced to stay here with you.”

“What else could you possibly do?”

“The same thing I would have done from the start. Take care of the babe myself.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Alex snapped, coming closer. “The last time you tried to take care of yourself you wound up in prison.”

“I’m older now and a whole lot wiser.”

Alex scoffed. “That remains to be seen.”

Nicki picked up the apricot-colored vase she had purchased just that afternoon. “This is going to get expensive,” she warned, holding the vase above her.

Alex grinned, dimpling his cheeks. “One way or another, a man must pay for his passions.”

“Damn you!” Nicki hurled the vase at his head and raced toward the door. Alex ducked and it shattered against the wall. He slammed the door closed just as she pulled it open.

Grabbing her arm, he carried her, cursing and struggling, toward the bed.

“I hate you!” she raged, breaking free and trying once more to escape.

“Only for the moment,” he said with a mocking grin. Using his body to hold her in place, Alex pressed her down on the mattress. Nicki freed her arms and twisted away from him onto her stomach, her hips sliding over the edge. It was definitely a mistake.

Alex captured her arms and drew them above her head. “We’ve had so little time,
ma chère.
You’ve only begun to know the pleasures of a man and woman.” His hold turned gentle. Warm lips touched her shoulders while his hand swept the fall of copper hair from her cheek.

“They’ll be bastards, Alex,” Nicki whispered.

“It doesn’t matter.” He nuzzled her ear and nipped the back of her neck. “They’ll still be ours to love.”

Nicki tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on her skin, the touch of his lips as they trailed hot kisses across her shoulders. Bands of muscle rubbed against her back, and his hard shaft pressed against her bottom.

Alex slipped a wide palm inside her chemise to cup her breast, his fingers warm and strong. With practiced skill, they teased her taut nipple, making it even harder and sending a surge of moisture to the place between her legs. He lifted and molded the soft round
flesh, and his mouth and tongue worked their magic until she trembled.

‘Oh, God,” Nicki whispered when his hand moved lower, across the flat plane above her navel to stroke and tease. He untied the cord of her white cotton drawers and slid them over her hips. Then he carefully lifted the hem of her chemise.

When Alex settled himself against the soft white globes of her bottom, Nicki moaned. Parting the folds of her sex, he found her wet and ready, and eased himself inside. She could feel the powerful length of him, filling her, stirring a host of new sensations. His shaft, hard and throbbing, pulsed with a need that matched her own.

Alex let go of her wrists, circled her waist with his hands, and raised her hips to meet him as he came to his feet still deep inside her. Nicki arched her back and went up on her knees, wanting to feel every hard inch of him. Grinding her hips against him, she forced him even deeper.

Alex groaned and whispered her name, speaking soft French love words. Caught up in a world of heat and passion, Nicki barely heard them. Alex drove deeper, his strokes more powerful. Flesh pounded flesh until nothing mattered but the feel of him. Nothing mattered but the penetrating thrusts of his shaft.

Alex plunged into her, driving himself like a man gone mad. Nicki moaned and writhed beneath him as he pulled back and entered her again and again. The enormity of her response amazed him, stirring his passion higher and higher and sending him over the edge.

They reached their peak together, surging as one to that high plateau. Alex shuddered and his hold tightened
around her hips. Again and again he impaled her, until both were spent and covered with a shine of perspiration. Then he pulled her down on the bed beside him, smoothing the hair from her face, kissing the side of her neck.

“You’re mine,” he whispered beside her ear. “You belong to me and nothing can change that.”

For a moment she didn’t answer. ‘You won’t own me forever. One day I’ll again be free.”

Alex smiled into the darkness. “I speak not of your contract,
mon amoureuse
, but of what lies in your heart.”

Nicki drew away from him, refusing to acknowledge the feelings she fought so hard to hide. “Were you sure of Lisette, as well?”

Alex’s gentle look hardened. “You’re nothing like Lisette.”

“No? I’m your mistress, aren’t I? Just as she was.” “It isn’t the same.” “Why not?”

“Lisette meant nothing to me.”

“And what do I mean to you, Alex? What exactly do you feel for me?”

Why couldn’t he tell her?
Why couldn’t he say that having her there meant everything to him? That he needed her as he had never needed a woman. That when Nicki smiled at him, the problems he faced fell into shadow, replaced by sunshine and warmth?

He couldn’t tell her because a man wasn’t supposed to feel that way about a woman. His father would have laughed at him—
mon Dieu
, he laughed at himself.

“Go to sleep,
chérie,”
he said instead, and snuggled her into his arms.

By the time Nicki awoke, Alex was gone. Twice in the night he had made love to her again, and she hadn’t protested. There was something in his manner that made his need of her apparent as it never had been before.

Still, this morning, when she’d felt his hard arousal, she pretended to be sleeping. Alex hadn’t pushed her, just held her in his arms a little longer, then quietly climbed from the bed.

She had wanted him again, too, but his words the night before had stilled the notion. She had been lucky so far. Unless she’d conceived last night, she was not pregnant. Escape would be easier. Better one to care for than two.

Though she’d known the risks from the start, she had pushed them to the back of her mind. Now that he had forced her to face them, and uncertain how many more times he would come to her before she could get away, she decided to speak to Danielle.

Danielle would soon be wife to René. It would not be untoward for her to speak to her married friends, discover the ways of prevention, though it was all too clear how seldom they worked.

Not that Nicki didn’t want children. If things were different, there could be no finer gift than that of Alex’s child. That he would allow his own flesh and blood to be called bastard seemed harsh, but men thought differently about such things. From the way Alex had spoken of his father, she felt sure Charles du Villier had sired such children either here or in France.

She shuddered at thoughts of the same sort of fate for her own children.

Maybe with the problems of the sugar harvest, she could be gone before Alex returned. Would he come after her? She wasn’t afraid of him now—and yet there was a side of him she wasn’t quite sure of. Alexandre du Villier kept what was his. At any cost.

She would have to succeed this time, or God alone knew what he might do. A second shudder rumbled through her at the image of Alex’s powerful frame towering over her, his hard eyes black with rage. It was almost enough to end her scheming.

Almost—but not quite.