Creole Fires (42 page)

Alex’s relaxed expression faded. “He hasn’t been to Belle Chêne, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking if you’ve seen him, Alex. Your brother loves you. He misses being able to talk to you.”

“All he has to do is come home.”

Nicki set her glass down on the marble-topped table. “Belle Chêne is your home, Alex, not François’s. He isn’t interested in being a planter. François has his own life now, his own goals and needs.”

“François has no goals. Surely that is plain, even to someone as determined to see his good side as you are. François refuses to grow up, to accept responsibility. He refuses to see life as it really is.”

Nicki gently touched his arm. “This time it is you, Alexandre, who refuse to see life as it is.”

Alex jerked his arm away. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means François is … different. He is gentler than some men, a little more … sensitive. His needs are different from yours.”

Alex’s expression turned bleak. “His needs are different, all right. As different from mine as night and day.”

“Does that make him bad?”

Alex didn’t answer. His eyes locked with hers and his breath seemed lodged in his throat. “You know about him, don’t you?”

Nicki’s heart went out to him. She should have known Alex had guessed the truth about his brother—or at least suspected. “I know very little of … matters such as these, but I know François is kind and caring. I know he loves you and he needs your love in return—whether he is … different … or not.”

Alex released a long, weary breath, his worried expression making him look years older. “I hoped that sooner or later he would be as he was before. That this was only a phase. I felt sure once he came back to Belle Chêne and started working, his … preferences … would return to normal.”

“He is as he is, Alex.” Nicki smiled softly. “He’s a wonderful artist, incredibly talented. He wants to study in France. I think he could be happy there.”

“With his friend,” Alex added darkly.

“Yes.”

“And you believe I should help him?”

“He loves you as you are. You must show him you feel the same.”

Alex cleared his throat, his voice a little husky. “I only wanted what was best for him.”

“I know.”

Alex watched her a moment, then slid an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said and nuzzled the side of her neck. “How did I ever manage without you?”

Nicki grinned. “I’m sure I can’t imagine.”

Dipping his head, he kissed her, a slow, tender, loving kiss that thanked her for understanding him so well. “I’ll do as you ask,” he told her when he finally pulled away. “Tell him I want him to be happy.”

Nicki’s eyes filled with tears. “He will know.”

In the morning, Alex woke early, dressed for his business meeting in dark-brown breeches and a crisp white linen shirt, and set out a gold brocade waistcoat and dark-green frock coat.

“I’ve a meeting with Louis Mouton,” he whispered in Nicki’s ear as she lay curled against the pillow.

Nicki bolted upright. “You do?”

Alex kissed the tip of her nose. “This morning at seven.” He returned to the rosewood mirror above the bureau, and tied his white stock neatly around his neck. “He sent a messenger to Belle Chêne yesterday, saying it was urgent. I hope to God nothing’s gone wrong with the shipping contracts.”

“I—I’m sure it’s nothing like that.” Nicki just prayed Mouton would do exactly as he promised and give Alex back his money.

“I hope you’re right,” he said. After buttoning his
waistcoat, Alex grabbed his jacket and strode to the bed. “Why don’t you get a little more sleep?” Brushing tangled hair away from her face, he kissed her cheek.

“When will you be back?”

“Not for a few days, I’m afraid. I’ve got to get back to Belle Chêne, but I promise I’ll return as soon as I can.”

Nicki stretched and yawned, her back braced against the cold mahogany headboard. Lifting her copper hair away from her neck, she gathered it together and pulled it over one shoulder. When she glanced up, she found Alex’s dark eyes fixed on a naked breast, exposed where the sheet had fallen away.

“I assure you, mademoiselle, Louis Mouton can wait, if that is what you wish.” His hand found the heavy swell and cupped it gently.

Nicki felt the heat of it all the way to her toes. “No,” she whispered, her voice a little strained. “You had better see what he wants.”

Alex sighed resignedly, bent down and kissed her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The minute he had gone, Nicki flew out of bed. She called for Danielle, ordered a bath sent up, then hurriedly bathed and dressed. She was certain Alex would return just as soon as he heard the news.

She wanted to look beautiful when he asked her to marry him.

Nicki waited all afternoon, but Alex didn’t arrive.

Maybe Mouton hadn’t given him the money. Maybe Alex had gone to Feliciana to see Fortier and pay off the note. Maybe he had gone to see Clarissa, get things settled once and for all.

Surely tomorrow he would come.

Again, she waited, but Alex never arrived.

On Friday, Nicki sent Ram to Mouton’s office. The big Turk found the factor packing his things, readying himself for his trip from the city.

Ram returned with the news. “Mouton has done as you asked. He showed me papers, signed by Alexandre, accepting the sum in full—an inheritance from some unknown relative in France.”

“And you believe him?” Nicki asked.

“He was too frightened to lie. He has repaid the money.”

“Then why hasn’t Alex come?”

“There is still the note to pay—and matters to settle with Clarissa.”

But Nicki’s apprehension only grew stronger. “Maybe that is so … then again, maybe I have once more misread his intentions. Alex and I have spoken of many things, but marrying me has not been one of them.”

“Alexandre loves you,” Ram said. “He will offer marriage.”

Nicki didn’t answer. A few hours later, a messenger came from Belle Chêne with a note of Alex’s arrival. Tonight she would know the truth.

“You must not worry,” Danielle assured her as Nicki fought to calm her jangled nerves. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I pray you’re right, Danielle.” At the sound of Alex’s voice downstairs, Nicki dabbed a spot of perfume behind each ear with trembling fingers. The gown she had chosen was a simple dark-green silk,
since Alex had made no mention of any special plans, but it was flattering, and one of his favorites.

She found him standing in the foyer dressed in black evening clothes, his eyes warm and filled with love. Unmindful of the servants, he kissed her soundly, lifting her clear off her feet.

“We’re going out,” he said when he finally set her down. “Someplace elegant and expensive.” He walked to the gilded table in the entry and picked up a big box tied with a bright pink ribbon that he had set there. “For you,
mon amoureuse.”

“What’s this?” With a smile of excitement, Nicki accepted the box and hastily pulled the bow.

“Just something I thought you might like.”

She lifted the lid to find a beautiful gold silk gown trimmed with tulle and decorated with clusters of delicate pearls. Raising on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “It’s lovely, Alex.”

“François gave me the name of your seamstress, so it’s sure to fit.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Yes. We talked as we should have long ago—thanks to you.” Alex pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Mademoiselle St. Claire.”

Nicki’s heart pounded. He’s going to ask me! He’s going to ask me tonight!

“We’d better change and get out of here,” Alex whispered against her ear, gently nibbling the lobe, “or we’re likely not to leave at all.”

Nicki didn’t really care. She just wanted Alex to speak the words she had been waiting to hear for so long. Instead, she nodded and they went upstairs to change.

“Where are we going?” Nicki asked a little later as
they swept out through the courtyard toward a gleaming black brougham Alex had hired, its enclosed interior being warmer for winter. Secretly, she hoped they might be dining at the St. Charles, the most fashionable spot in New Orleans. If he took her there, it would mean he had spoken to Clarissa, that their wedding had been cancelled. That he was free to marry Nicole.

“I know a charming little place at the edge of the city. It’s small, but lovely. I think you’ll like it.”

And no one will see us.
Some of Nicki’s enthusiasm began to wane. Then again, maybe Alex was just being romantic, wanting her all to himself. “That sounds wonderful.”

And it was. The restaurant was built in an old abandoned Spanish rampart, thick-walled and cozy, with dim yellow lamps near the timber-studded doorways, soft music, and lovely potted palmettos to lend intimacy to each candle-lit table.

“You look beautiful,” Alex told her, stripping her elbow-length gloves from her hands, then kissing the tips of her fingers. He spoke to her in French, as he seldom did, telling her he loved her and devouring her with his eyes. The dress he had bought was daringly low-cut, displaying her breasts in a manner that brought warm color to her cheeks.

“It’s all I can do not to take you right here,” Alex whispered, and Nicki’s face grew warmer still. Her pulse pounded, and her skin tingled just thinking of Alex’s touch.

They dined on
soupe de poissons
, a delicate fish soup;
noix de St. Jacques au courtbouillon
, poached scallops; and
noisettes d’agneau poêlées
, medallions of lamb with spinach and mushroom stuffing; along
with a variety of wines. For dessert they shared a pear soufflé and drank champagne.

Alex spoke of François, and later, of a letter he had received from
Grand-mère.
But the words Nicole longed to hear did not come.

“How is the harvest progressing?” Nicki asked, hoping he might warm to the subject of Fortier and the note he most surely had paid.

“For the most part, we’re finished. But I’m afraid I’ll be needing the services of a new factor. Louis Mouton is leaving the city.”

Nicki’s stomach tightened. “After all these years?”

Alex sighed. “Who could have guessed?”

“Did he say why?”

“Just that he needed the challenge of someplace new.” Alex squeezed her hand. “Let’s leave business aside, shall we? Tonight we speak of more important things.”

Nicki smiled, and her heartbeat quickened. “Such as?”

“Such as making love.” His eyes swept down her throat, across her shoulders, and fixed on her bosom. “I think it is time we went home.”

Alex rose and pulled out her chair. Nicki flashed an uncertain smile and stood up.
The carriage
, she thought with growing desperation.
He’ll ask in the privacy of the carriage.

But he didn’t. Just kissed her with such force she found herself responding. His wide hand slipped inside her gown, cupped her breast and teased the nipple into a hard, dark peak.

Nicki moaned and leaned into his hand. By the time they reached the town house, she felt breathless and dizzy, and aching with desire for him. Then the
driver pulled open the door, letting in a burst of cold air and with it a return of her senses.

He isn’t going to ask me, she realized with a sickening sureness that washed over her like a cold, dark wave. He’s going to marry Clarissa, just as he planned.

She started toward the house, feeling shaken and disoriented. When she missed a step and stumbled, Alex swept her up in his arms.

“I think you’ve had a little too much champagne.”

“Yes. I—I am feeling a bit light-headed.”
And sick all the way to my soul.

Alex carried her up the stairs. Nicki wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. Using his foot to shove open the door, he carried her over to the bed. One look at her pale face, and Alex’s dark brows drew together.

“You don’t look good. Maybe I should send for a doctor.”

“No. It’s just the champagne. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Alex undressed her with a hand that shook when he accidentally touched her breasts. Nicki forced herself to ignore the warm sensations he stirred.

“Alex?”

He kissed her forehead. “What is it,
mon amour?”

“I need to know if anything has … changed between us? I need you to tell me exactly what you feel.”

Alex gripped her cold hands between his warm ones. “I love you more every moment. I intend to take care of you and make you happy. Nothing has changed.”

Nicki swallowed hard and fought to hold back her
tears. “I know you want to make love, Alex, but I’m really not … feeling very well. Will you mind terribly if we wait?”

“Of course I’ll mind.” He grinned, the cheek-dimpling smile she loved so well. “Especially since I must leave again at first light.” He brushed her lips with a kiss. “But I’ll be content to hold you, if that is what you wish.”

“Thank you.” They finished undressing, Alex’s movements brusque and businesslike, but his hard arousal was evidence of the passion he fought to subdue. Her own body stirred with those same urgent feelings, but she refused to give in to them.

That Alex wanted her she had no doubt. She could even believe that in his own way he loved her. But he also loved Belle Chêne. Alex loved the dynasty the du Villier family had built, and he intended to keep right on building. Now Nicki knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the core, that Alex had never considered marriage. From the moment he had discovered his desire for her, he had planned to make her his mistress—and he had succeeded far better than she would have believed.

Alex’s marriage to Clarissa Endicott would stand. The du Villier power and fortune would more than double by the single act of his wedding. How could she have been naive enough to believe he would willingly give all that up?

And for what? To marry a penniless bond servant?

Nicki’s throat ached with the unshed tears she fought to keep from spilling down her cheeks. Through the long hours of the night, she felt Alex’s arms protectively around her, his hard body pressing against her. Though she pretended, sleep remained
elusive. At dawn, when Alex awoke, she looked more wan and pale than she had before.