Creole Fires (22 page)

“And what is that?” Rachael asked.

“She isn’t going.”

“What!” Nicki came to her feet. “But why not? Surely you wouldn’t deny your grandmother a traveling companion. It’s a very difficult journey.”

“I said, you aren’t going.”

“But—but I can’t stay here … not after you’re married. Clarissa wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You won’t have to. You’re moving into the town house.”

Nicole’s face paled. She started to speak, but the words seemed lodged in her throat.
Toulouse Street. The place he kept his mistress.
Clutching the folds of her skirt, she sank back down on the sofa, her chest so tight she could barely breathe. “Please, Alex,” she said softly, “let me go with
Grand-mère.”

“No.”

“Alexandre,” Rachael said, moving toward him, an odd expression on her face. “Are you certain you know what you are doing?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. “I own her contract—or rather, Belle Chêne does. She isn’t leaving. The subject is closed.”

Rachael watched him a moment more, then instead of getting angry, which he expected, she graced him with a smile. “Whatever you say, Alexandre.” She walked over to Nicole, who looked incredulous, and patted her trembling hand. “Alexandre knows what is best,” she said.

“But
Grand-mère—”

“I shall miss you,
ma fille.”
Turning, she flashed Alex a brief smile and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nicole just sat there, staring at him but not really
seeing. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I never thought you could be this cruel.”

Alex sat down beside her, clasping her cold hands between his warm ones. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted that.”

“Then let me go.”

He glanced out the window toward the gardens. Swans floated on the surface of the lake and a soft breeze fluttered the moss in the overhanging oaks. “You agreed to listen. I’ll expect no less.”

Nicole didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away.

Alex took a deep, calming breath, and willed his words to come out right. “In the beginning—once I knew the truth about who you were—I believed keeping you as my mistress was your best chance for happiness. I knew you cared for me—and I wanted you. Badly.” He paused, but still she didn’t speak. “I knew you had been abused. I thought you were no longer a virgin. Since there was no way of keeping your past a secret, no way to find you a proper husband, I felt sure you’d be better off with me.”

“I could have gone away. You could have helped me make a start somewhere else.”

Alex scoffed at the notion. “And just who would take care of you?”

Nicki squared her small shoulders and lifted her chin. “The same person who was doing it before you came along—me.”

“You?” he repeated, wondering if he could possibly have heard her correctly. “Need I remind you what a botched-up mess you made of it?” That shut her up. “In these times, a woman alone in the world has little chance for survival, let alone happiness.”

“I won’t be your mistress, Alex. I don’t care what your reasons are.”

“You let me make love to you. You wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

“I thought I loved you. I was wrong.”

“So now I’m to believe you care nothing for me at all?”

“It happens to be true. What I felt was gratitude, nothing more.”

“Gratitude? You let me make love to you out of gratitude?”

“That’s right.”

Alex pinned her with his eyes. “You’re a liar.” Pulling her down on the sofa, he kissed her, an insistent kiss that demanded she respond.

Nicki fought against it, pushing him away and forcing herself to ignore the heat that seared her body, the wicked warmth that moved through her, stealing her will. When Alex coaxed her lips apart and slid his tongue inside, Nicki felt a jolt of desire like nothing she’d known. It was all she could do to resist it. All she could do to keep from sliding her arms around his neck and moaning his name. Though her hands were pinned between them, she remembered the strength of the muscles beneath his shirt, the silky touch of his curly brown chest hair.

She could feel his arousal, hot and hard against her thigh; his hand caressing her breast, kneading it softly through the soft linen fabric of her dress. Against her will, her nipple hardened and ached against his palm.

One moment of weakness, one tentative touch of her tongue against his, and then she twisted away.
“Stop it! Can’t you understand I don’t want you anymore?”

Alex mocked her with a soft rumbling laugh. “What I understand,
chérie
, is that gratitude has nothing to do with what is going on between us.” His voice, still husky with passion, swept over her like a caress. “I want you and you want me. It’s just as simple as that.”

Nicole rearranged her dress with trembling fingers. “You’re wrong. But even if you were right, it wouldn’t matter. I won’t be your mistress—I won’t be your whore.”

Alex released a weary breath. “I’ve got to marry Clarissa. François borrowed money against Belle Chêne and the du Villier estates in France. I’ve been racing against time, trying to repay the debt, but time has run out. Problems have come up in France. Even with the improvements we’ve made, the crop won’t bring in enough. The only way I can pay off the loan is to borrow the money from Clarissa. She suggested it some time ago. The documents have already been signed. The money will be mine on the day of our marriage.”

He looked so bleak, Nicki couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. It was all she could do not to touch him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know.”

“No one does, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it.”

“Can’t you get the money somewhere else?”

“Mon Dieu
, I’ve tried. I can get some, but not enough. The only reason François got so much from Fortier is because Valcour wants Belle Chêne. He knew we’d never be able to repay it. He was counting on that. And I can’t let it happen.”

Nicole knew what it was like to love one’s home and family. She knew what it was like to lose them. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and meant it.

“The marriage is only a financial arrangement. I tried to tell you that before.”

Nicki’s brow arched up in surprise. “But surely Clarissa will want children?”

Alex looked away. “There’s the matter of heirs, of course.”

“Of course,” she said stiffly.

“I wish things could be different, but they can’t. At least this way we can be together.”

“No,” she said simply.

“Yes, damn it!”

Nicki surged to her feet. “I refuse to discuss this any longer. I won’t be your mistress, Alexandre. There is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. And since that is the case, I’ll ask you again to let me leave with
Grand-mère.”

Alex’s expression turned thunderous. “You belong to me. You’re mine and we both know it! You’ll stay right here with me.”

“Damn you! Damn you to hell!” With that she stormed from the room. She wouldn’t waste words on either of them again. As soon as Rachael left for France, Nicole was leaving too. She would make it on her own this time.

She had to.

“I’m going to miss you.” Nicki hugged the tiny woman who stood beside her on the docks at New Orleans.

Around them, gulls screeched and wailed, and ships’ rigging clattered and clanked in the stiff afternoon
breeze. Sailors of various shapes and sizes, some dressed in duck pants and striped shirts, some in military uniform, prowled the wharf around them.

Along with Alex and
Grand-mère
, Nicki had left Belle Chêne aboard the first downriver steamboat, her first trip into the city since she had left the prison.

“I will miss you too,
ma fille,”
Rachael agreed.

Tears washed Nicki’s cheek, and she clutched the old woman tighter. Several times after the confrontation in Alex’s study, Nicki had gone to
Grand-mère
and asked the old woman to intercede on her behalf.

“My grandson has never shown such care for a woman,” she had said, “and a fine woman you are, my child. Alex must see how right you are for each other—if he does not, I believe he soon will. You will see.” She patted Nicki’s hand. “You will see I am right.”

Nicki couldn’t tell her that even if he did care, he had to marry Clarissa. Instead, she had smiled and let the subject drop.

She looked at the old woman now.

“I will return next fall,” Rachael told her. “Or Alexandre can bring you with him when he comes to inspect the estates.” It was as if
Grand-mère
had forgotten her grandson’s coming marriage. That life at Belle Chêne would go on just as before.

If only that were so.

“You’ll write often?” Nicki pressed, but as soon as the words were out, she realized she wouldn’t be there to read any letters.

“Of course I will. And you make certain Alexander writes too.”

“I will,” she softly agreed. She and Alex had maintained a stiff air of cordiality for his grandmother’s
sake, but Nicki didn’t believe Rachael had missed the subtle hostility. They had spent the day shopping for the last-minute items
Grand-mère
had wanted to take home to France, lunched at Chez Louis, the finest restaurant in the
Vieux Carré
, and still had plenty of time to situate Rachael and her lady’s maid aboard their first-class cabin on the ship.

“You must not be sad,” Rachael told her, dabbing the moisture from Nicki’s cheek with a white-lace handkerchief. “Alexandre will take good care of you.”

Nicki knew a moment of despair. “I’m sure he will.” But she wasn’t going to give him the chance. She and Alex would be returning to Belle Chêne before nightfall. Three days later she would be back in the city. Permanently. Or—if Alex had his way—at least until he tired of her as he had Lisette. On Tuesday she would be moving into his town house. What he didn’t know was that by Monday she would be gone.

“I love you,
Grand-mère,”
Nicki told her.

The old woman repeated the words in French, wiped her own teary eyes, kissed her grandson goodbye a second time, and accepted the arm of the tall, dark-blond sea captain who had come down from his ship,
Sea Gypsy
, to escort her aboard.

“She’s in good hands, my friend,” Captain Trask said to Alex, with a pleasant smile that contrasted the chiseled angles of his face and the darkness of his suntanned skin.

“There’s no one I’d trust more.” Alex had known Morgan Trask for the better part of ten years. Trask had made a sizeable fortune in the cotton industry as well as the shipping trade. He was solid and knowledgeable—and
one of the toughest men Alex had ever known.

Rachael gave Nicki a last brief hug, then took the rugged sea captain’s arm and walked the gangway onto the ship. As the crew made ready to sail,
Grand-mère
waved good-bye from the rail, and Alex led Nicki away.

Sniffing against her handkerchief, she cried softly and tried not to think how lonely she would be without the woman who had been almost a mother during these past few weeks.

“You’ve still got me,” Alex said gently, reading her sorrowful expression.

Clarissa has you
, she thought,
I have no one.
But she didn’t say the words. “I’m awfully tired, Alex. Couldn’t we just go home?” Alex had planned for them to attend a small out-of-the-way theater production of
Lecompte
, but Nicki didn’t think she could endure it. Not now. Not knowing what lay ahead.

“All right, if that’s what you want,” Alex conceded, surprising her. “Once you’re living in town, we’ll have time to do lots of things.” His eyes, dark with hunger, said making love to her would top the list.

She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Of course.”

The next two days dragged interminably. Since the harvest season was upon them, Alex had been extremely busy. Nicki was grateful for the time to complete her plans.

She would take only two muslin dresses and a horse. Not Napoleon or Maximillian—they were too valuable. Not Orange Blossom either, she was too old. Nicki planned to leave by the River Road, go straight to the docks in La Ronde, and catch the midnight
steamboat upriver. But instead of going to Baton Rouge or Natchez, as Alex would guess, she would get off at one of the smaller towns along the way and head inland, for Jackson, Montgomery, or maybe even Atlanta.

Since she had no money, she would be forced to steal it from Alex. This was the part of her plan she hated. She knew where he kept an allotment for household expenses—she had seen it in the bottom drawer of his desk when he’d been working.

She would leave him a note, try to explain her reasons, assure him that somehow, some way she would pay him back. The horse he would find in La Ronde. Assuming no one stole it before he got there.

Only Danielle knew her plan. She trusted the plump little French girl, and she needed her help. Danielle could cover for her in the morning. Say she was sick, give her as much of a lead as possible before Alex found out and came after her—as she was certain he would.

If she was lucky, he would give up before he found her. Or realizing how much her freedom meant to her, maybe he would let her get away. Whatever happened, she was going through with it. He had given her no other choice.

Monday night at Belle Chêne finally arrived and Nicole fought to hide her nervousness. Alex had been watching her all evening—but it wasn’t about her escape he’d been thinking. She knew by the hunger in his eyes that he desired her. Out of deference to her feelings, he had decided to wait until they reached the town house before he tried to make love to her.

But he wanted her—that much was clear.

Worst of all, she wanted him. Every time she felt his eyes on her, her heart began thudding unsteadily, and a slow warmth spread through her limbs. Thank God she was leaving.

“I’m awfully tired, Alex. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go on up to … my room.” She carefully avoided using the word
bed.

Alex smiled indulgently, as if he knew what she had meant, even if she hadn’t said it. “That’s probably a good idea. We’ve a long day tomorrow. I want you settled in by tomorrow night.” That he would be spending the night in her bed was written in the seductive curve of his mouth, the single groove that etched itself in one cheek. Rising from his chair, he came to her side. “I’ll walk you up.”