Lady Vixen (28 page)

"Are
you saying you would
work
for me?" he demanded incredulously.

"Well,
of course I would!"

Raising
his eyes heavenward, he cursed a pride that was as stubborn as it was gentle
and said out loud, "God, give me strength! Very well, madame, you will not
live in my home without earning your keep. Give me a week, two at the most, in
which to make certain arrangements, and then I shall be back to present you
with another proposal that I hope you will find more to your liking."

A
short while later he deposited Mrs. Eggleston a scant block from where they had
first met, and watching her birdlike little figure disappear down the wooden
sidewalk, he was filled with amused frustration—women!

The
library at Thibodaux House was a long and narrow room. It ran the full length
of the house, with tall windows at opposite ends that nearly covered the width
of the room. On one long wall was a magnificent moss-green marble fireplace and
a carved door that led to the main hallway of the house. Above the mantel
rested a massive gilt-edged mirror, and before the fire burning on the grate
were two dainty, but extremely comfortable, scarlet-covered chairs with a large
satinwood table between them. At one end of the room stood a graceful dark
Spanish desk, a black leather chair behind it, and at the opposite end, beneath
one of the windows, was a long, narrow spindle-legged table in a dark wood. The
floor was brightened by the jewel tones of the fine Oriental rug. Opposite the
fireplace were two sets of French doors that led outside to the veranda. All in
all it was a beguiling and elegant room, and Nicole spent a great deal of time
there, especially on drizzly, gray days like this afternoon. Despite Galena's
protests she was still dressed in her boy's garb. She vowed she would go naked
before wearing a gown cast off by a discarded mistress of Saber's. The only
time she released the gray trousers and white linen shirt was at night, and
when necessity demanded they be washed.

Nicole
habitually could always be found in the library in the late afternoon. She was
staring blankly out the window, her thoughts far away. Christmas had come and
gone. Eighteen-fourteen was already a week old, and Saber had not yet returned.
A fortnight of the drizzling rain like today's had kept her chained inside, and
without the relief that came from exploring the estate on a horse, accompanied
by a grave-faced black groom, she was like a bound pantheress. There was a book
lying on the floor where just a few minutes ago she had thrown it in an
unusually violent attack of temper. Normally she wouldn't have misused a volume
so, but this helpless feeling and the inactivity were trying her nerves badly.

The
strain of the last few weeks could be very clearly seen about her person. Her
faint apricot tan had faded, leaving her skin a smooth, milky magnolia color,
that was, if she knew or cared, extremely becoming. She had lost weight and the
fine bones of her face were more prominent. And there was, in spite of her
tallness, a fragile air about her.

Sounds
from the hallway suddenly jerked her from her wandering, unhappy thoughts, and
frowning, she listened intently to the muffled noises that seeped through the
book-lined walls. Saber had arrived!

She
knew in her bones it had to be him—why else had she been in such a foul temper
today? Ignoring the leap in her pulse at the thought of his return, she willed
herself to stay exactly where she was. She didn't fool herself that she wasn't
excited that he had returned—she was, but only because a fight with Saber, and
she was certain there would be one, would chase away this terrible ennui.

Listening
now with all her might and straining to hear his voice, she stiffened when it
became apparent that there was a female with Saber. The words were
indiscernible through the walls, but the soft murmur of a woman's voice was
very obvious. Her mouth tightened disagreeably—probably another of his fancy
women! So much for her hope to enslave him.

Several
minutes passed, during which time Nicole could tell from the scrapes and bumps
that Saber must have brought quite a bit of baggage back with him. Thinking
again of the woman's voice, she snorted—
baggage
indeed!

She
was so intent on willing herself to remain where she was and hiding her
emotions behind a facade of indifference, that the sound of the library door
opening and shutting firmly came as a distinct surprise. Hoping it was merely
Sanderson coming to announce Saber's arrival, she glanced over her shoulder and
suffered a momentary shock when she saw the tall, elegant gentleman standing
near one of the scarlet chairs.

At
first she didn't recognize Saber, dressed as he was in the height of fashion.
He was wearing breeches of light drab, a coat of blue with beautiful silver
buttons, and a gay waistcoat of striped Marseilles; he was the picture of a man
of impeccable taste.

Nicole
blinked at his splendor; then her eyes flew to his face. For the first time she
saw his features unadorned by the disguising beard, and she was startled at the
difference it made. His mouth, with its inherent sensuality, appeared more
firmly cut and aristocratically drawn than before; the hard line of his jaw and
the aggressive thrust of his chin were very apparent. It was not a classically
handsome face; the nose was a trifle too large and the eyes perhaps a bit
deep-seated to claim true male beauty. But it was an arresting face, a
handsomely hard face, and the shock of those incredibly clear amber-gold eyes
shadowed by the heavy black lashes was enough to blind most observers, male or
female, to the faults of his features.

A
faint smile was curving those firm lips just now, and drawing off his buff
leather gloves, he asked softly, "No greeting, Nick? I had thought that
after such a long separation you would be happy to see me."

Aware
of the sudden increased beating of her heart, she forced herself to remain
unmoved, and raising an eyebrow sardonically, she murmured, "Are the fish
that swim in the sea happy to see the shark return? I doubt it. And you should
have known better—you forget that there is only one reason why I am still
enjoying your . . . ah... hospitality, or have you forgotten Allen?"

Christopher's
smile vanished at her words. "You are a little viper, aren't you? No, I
haven't forgotten the good Allen, but I think you cling to that excuse a little
too tightly."

Nicole
gave him an infuriatingly superior smile and turned to stare out the window.
She felt his presence behind her, but stubbornly she kept her back to him.

His
breath was soft on her hair, and she was almost unbearably conscious of his
nearness. "Why," he snarled in a low tone, "do I want to
strangle you and yet at the same time kiss you until you melt in my arms?"

Not
waiting for an answer, nor expecting one, he spun her around. And before she
could defend herself or even guess his intention, his hands, strong and
hurtful, closed around her throat, and bending his head, his mouth, hard and
hungry, came down passionately on her soft lips. Nicole felt an uncontrollable
flare of desire and without thought leaned into his body, feeling his instant
response to her nearness. For a long moment they clung together, his mouth
searching hers with an almost desperate urgency, his painful hold loosening on
her slim neck, his fingers unconsciously caressing where a second before they
had meant to hurt.

Lifting
his mouth away with an effort, he stared down into her upturned face, and then
losing himself in the deep, dark pools of her eyes, he muttered, "Oh, God!
You're a witch, Nick!" and then swept her into his arms, crushing her
against him, his mouth moving feverishly over her face before settling on her
mouth once again.

Mindless,
Nicole didn't fight against her own emotions or search for reasons for what was
happening—she was too wrapped up in the fierce pleasure of being in his arms
again. Later she could condemn herself; later she'd curse her foolishness—but,
oh, God!—not
now!

How
long they would have stayed lost in an embrace or how far this sudden surge of
passion would have taken them was never to be known. There was a discreet tap
on the door, and with a will he didn't know he possessed, Christopher tore his
mouth from Nicole's and, almost flinging her away, called impatiently,
"Yes, what is it?"

Sanderson
entered, looking faintly apologetic. "Sir, Miss Mauer would like to know
if you have any instructions for her before she begins to unpack?"

Breathing
heavily and running his hand through the thick blue-black hair, Christopher
growled, "Oh, the devil take her!" Then realizing it wasn't what was
expected of him and ignoring Nicole's stricken silence, he asked in a quieter
tone, "Have you settled her in her rooms?"

"Yes,
sir. She is on the third floor as you ordered. She has just partaken of a light
refreshment and is now ready to begin her duties."

"Very
well. Just tell her to see to her own settling in. Tomorrow is soon enough for
her to start her duties."

Sanderson
bowed and left the room.

The
conversation, short as it had been, had given Nicole the time she needed to
gain control of herself. Fighting back an emotion curiously akin to jealousy,
she sneered, "My, my, aren't we the greedy one!
Two
of us now!
Aren't you frightened that we might wear you down? Of course," she said
brightly, "if you're replacing me, I can't tell you how delighted I am.
Shall I go and welcome my replacement? Oh, and I will certainly be most happy
to change rooms. There is no reason for Miss . . . er . . . Mauer, didn't
Sanderson say, to stay on the third floor with the house servants. I'll switch
with her in an instant."

"Shut
up, Nick," Christopher said amicably. He, too, had recovered himself and
was as unshakable as ever. Staring indifferently at her angry face, he
completely confounded her by saying, "Miss Mauer
is
a servant. You
have a very nasty mind, my girl. Miss Mauer is your maid. The clothes referred to
are a few I ordered for you. Miss Mauer will alter them to fit—I tried to accurately
gauge your measurements and she will see to any . . . ah . . . oversight on my
part."

At
Nicole's look of outrage, he continued in a harder tone, "You will keep
your mouth shut until I've finished! Mauer is a very expensive lady's maid.
Starting tomorrow, she will begin tricking you out as befits a young lady of
your station.
You
will keep a civil tongue in your head and follow her
dictates. You will also stop using those seamen's curses you are so fond of,
and you will follow my orders and start preparing yourself to return to England."

Completely
dumbfounded, Nicole gazed at him in fascinated astonishment. "Return to
England?" she finally got out in a voice that sounded nothing like her
own.

Christopher
nodded, aware of a sudden sharp pain in the pit of his stomach when he realized
exactly what he was committed to. Whether it was the thought of the
difficulties ahead, or the knowledge that Nick would soon be out of his power
that caused the unexpected spasm, he preferred not to examine at any great
length.

"My
Gawd! The gent's turned respectable! Well, ain't I betwattled!" Nicole
drawled in a vulgar manner, her hands resting on her hips.

Christopher's
lips twitched. "You'll catch cold at that, young woman! I'm certain you
can give me a good display of billingsgate language with little effort, but
restrain yourself. From now on, you are to do everything within your power to
become quite the thing. Mauer is a start, and shortly I hope to have a
governess installed. We haven't," he added thoughtfully, "a great
deal of time, and so you are going to be hard pressed, my dear, to turn
overnight into a young lady of fashion."

"Why?"
Nicole demanded bewilderedly.

"Because
I say so," Christopher returned quietly, a wealth of meaning in his words.

Nicole's
face tightened. "Do you
always
get your way?"

"Of
course."

For
a moment she glared at him, and then with an exclamation of disgust she marched
to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped when Christopher said,
"Your room has been changed."

Whirling
to face him and with curiosity uppermost in her voice, she asked in a cold
little tone, "Why? Observing the niceties?"

Christopher
nodded. "From now on you will forget any relationship that has been
between us. You are, for Mauer's information, my ward. Your governess, a Mrs.
Eggleston by the way, is not at present with us due to an inflammation of the
lung. And because I have not the years to have a beautiful young ward living in
my home unchaperoned without causing speculation, I have stayed away while your
governess has been ill. It was only after Mauer consented to enter my
employment that I could return. Even so, it will be best when Mrs. Eggleston
arrives." He said the words with no emotion, as if reciting a lesson that
Nicole was to learn immediately.

But
Nicole had other ideas, and outraged, she cried, "Do you expect me to
swallow that rapper?"

Crossing
the room in swift strides, Christopher grasped Nicole's hands tightly between
his own. In a determined tone he snapped, "You had better believe it—and
remember
it! From now on, it is the truth. You are my ward, Mrs. Eggleston is your
governess, and you are going to tell that story to anyone who asks. If you
don't, if you cross me, Nick, you'll discover that I am the devil you've always
thought." Driven by his own demons, he added, "Remember, Nick,
Allen's life depends on you. Defy me and I'll kill him with my own two
hands!"