Spring Fires (20 page)

"Do you think that you can pay me off so easily—with
his
money?" He was on his feet, his tiger eyes glowing with rage. "What did you do for
him
? What did you give
him,
virtuous lady? You pretend that you are too pure for me to look at; my presence offends you!" He caught her forearms in a punishing grip. "You should see your face now! You don't look quite so superior anymore."

When she saw the way his lip curled in triumph, Lisette forced back the tide of her panic. "What do you want from me?" she asked evenly. "I have paid you the money. Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because it is not the money I want. I want this CoffeeHouse and I want you, my yellow rose." To Lisette's horror, he suddenly pressed his wide mouth against her throat. Marcus smiled when he felt throb of Lisette's pulse. "You are flesh and blood after all!" He chuckled. "Damn, how you arouse me. Even I am amazed! Tell me, Mistress Hahn... are you a witch?"

Though clenched teeth, she answered, "I certainly am not! You are intrigued because I'm the only eligible female in the CoffeeHouse and I don't bed my customers. If I were playing the doxy while I served ale and stew, I would be no more desirable to you and the others than any tavern wench in Philadelphia."

Marcus was kissing each delicately tapered finger. "You are quite right. I don't claim to be in love with you. It is lust. With your crown of braids, you seem as pure and inaccessible as a virgin princess."

"I must insist that you release me."

"What intrigues me the most," He elaborated, ignoring her request, "is the possibility that you might not be as perfect as you appear. After all, no one is
perfect,
isn't that so?"

"Mr. Reems, if you don't mind, I must say good night now and—"

"I am certain that you are a fine person, Mistress Hahn, but not stupid, I hope. I would like to offer you a better life, and I hope you will listen to reason."

Lisette wished she were a tall, powerful man, so that she could hit him in the mouth and render him senseless.

"Mr. Reems, what you do not appear able to comprehend is the fact that the only better life I aspire to is one that I work toward and am entitled to."

He wasn't listening. "Look what I have here. I brought these tonight to give to you in addition to the generous sum I offered for the CoffeeHouse itself." From the pocket of his deep purple velvet coat, he withdrew a silken bundle, which he set on a nearby tea table and untied. Inside was a profusion of priceless jewelry. There were emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, and rubies of every size, mounted in settings of gold and silver; necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches, winking and glittering in the candlelight. Still gripping Lisette's slim arm, Reems urged her closer. "Look at them. If you will sell me the CoffeeHouse, all of these pieces are yours. Have you ever seen a larger emerald?"

Lisette ignored the necklace he was holding to the light. "I suppose these belonged to your wife!"

"No, as a matter of fact, they did not. The person who owned them died and the collection came into my possession. For four years, I have kept all of these jewels locked in their case... and to allay my fear that they might be stolen, I had the case stored out of sight at my mother's home in New York State."

"Is that where you have been—?"

"Of course! I realized that money alone was not sufficient to convince you to sell the CoffeeHouse. Then I remembered the jewels. Their previous owner resembled you in many ways, although she was not nearly the woman you are. Still"—Marcus paused to leer knowingly—"I knew how ravishing you would look wearing these rare gems. How stunning your beautiful face would become, set off by sapphires or emeralds in your ears or tucked among your golden curls."

Lisette could bear no more of this sly simpering. "I beg you to cease." She tried once more to wriggle free of the hands that had caressed her arms during his speech. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no desire for these jewels. You see, extravagant gowns and jewels have never held much allure for me." Once again, she wished that she were as strong as a man, so that she could tell him to leave without worrying that he would take offense and snap the bones in her arms.

"You accepted money from Lion Hampshire," argued Marcus, "and you would probably take this jewelry if it were he who offered it! Why? What makes his money better than mine?"

"Please! You are hurting me! And, I would not take a gift like this from Senator Hampshire! He is happily married and asks nothing of me beyond friendship. He did not want to buy the CoffeeHouse from me, Mr. Reems; he loaned me money so that
I could keep it,
with no conditions attached. The senator is a fine, honest man!"

"Christ, how ravishing you are!" Almost angrily, Marcus shifted his arms so that Lisette was caught against his satin breeches. He kissed her with hot, cruel lips until she choked for breath. "All right!" he rasped, lifting his head enough so that she could swallow air. "So you believe that Lion Hampshire is a saint among men! I think, Mistress Hahn, that you play with me, goading me until I elevate my offer. Is it marriage that you are angling for?"

Still stunned by his sudden brutal kiss, Lisette could only gasp when she heard Reems's question.

"You needn't be surprised," he smirked. "For the moment, I do not intend to remarry, but my appetite for you is voracious. I see no reason why we could not work out an arrangement whereby you would become my mistress after I take possession of the CoffeeHouse." He nibbled at her ear and mistook her shudder for trembling excitement. "In fact, you may live at Wadelands, the summer estate I own a few miles to the north. My wife was the last woman to sleep there...."

His voice trailed off suggestively and Lisette reacted on impulse when she realized that he was going to kiss her again.

"No!" Her hands flew up and pushed violently at his chest. For an instant, Marcus's hold on her waist was broken and Lisette stumbled backward. "Leave me alone!"

She was only halfway to the closed door when Reems grasped her elbow so tightly that she cried out as he spun her around. Fury suffused his face, but Lisette was past caution.

"You are insane!" she spat. "Is it so impossible for you to realize that my only feelings toward you are contempt and revulsion? I do
not
want to be your wife or mistress. I do
not
want your money, your jewelry, or your summer estate. I will
not sell the CoffeeHouse to you or anyone else. I dislike being bullied and kissed against my will. I find your tactics extremely insulting." To emphasize her point, Lisette attempted once more to pull her arms free. "Mr. Reems, I demand that you release me and leave my CoffeeHouse."

"Are you quite finished, Mistress Hahn? Most entertaining!" His voice was sneering and sarcastic. "You are an exceptional woman, Mistress Hahn, but I am a
man,
and it will take more than words to rout me. Perhaps you will now face reality..."

"Which is?" Lisette interrupted icily.

"That you
are
a woman. You are so helpless right now, it is laughable! I'll wager you will wish you hadn't been so stiff necked with me—and friendly with Lion—because neither your insults nor his money can help you now!"

His arms held her like suffocating bands of steel and the kiss he forced into her mouth went beyond mere revulsion to the frightening edge of violent assault. Initially, Lisette was boiling with rage. Her efforts to push him away were fruitless and the pummeling of her small fists at his chest seemed only to incite him further.

Then, her anger was burned away by a blaze of terror as Marcus Reems stopped kissing her long enough to reach around with one large hand and rip the bodice of her muslin gown.

"Don't scream," he warned in a frigid voice, "or I will choke you to death."

When he had torn her chemise so that her creamy breasts were exposed, Reems made a sound of gross appreciation. "Go over to the chaise and lie down."

For a moment, fear almost won, but Lisette could not allow herself to be beaten by this odious creature. Her head, with its braided gold crown, remained high and she did not move.

A strong hand came up and struck her face with savage force. Lisette felt her neck snap back, but she remained upright to meet Marcus Reems's cruel stare.

"Are you challenging me to break your will?" he demanded.

"I am challenging you to see me as a woman that you are attempting to violate. Have you no conscience?"

"I used to, but I conveniently mislaid it nearly two dozen years ago." He yanked Lisette closer and kissed her again. In spite of the contempt that she radiated for him, her mouth was as sweet as wild-flower honey. Keeping one arm securely around her slim back, he tried to hold her still enough to grasp one of her lovely breasts.

She was getting tired of fighting. Her ears rang from his blow and her throat burned with tears. Just as she was ready to sob aloud, something happened. Abruptly, Marcus released her and she stumbled back against the corner chair. The sound of her own weeping filled her head and eyes and it seemed that an eternity passed before she managed to discern Reems, lying on the floor. Through the blur of her tears, Lisette recognized the blood red trickle that ran down his chin, and then she focused on Nicholai Beauvisage.

To Nicholai's dismay, her first question was punctuated by a convulsive sob.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Chapter 18

Midnight to Dawn,

April 26, 1793

"For God's sake, cover yourself." Stepping over the dazed form of Marcus Reems, Nicholai pulled off his dove gray coat and put it around Lisette. The handsome garment hung loosely, its sleeves trailing past her fingertips, but it served its purpose by hiding her torn bodice and bare breasts.

"You needn't behave as if I undressed myself!" Lisette protested, as she stood, conscious of her knee-buckling weakness. Nicholai was conveniently close by and she let herself lean into his chest. "W-why?" she whispered.

"That doesn't matter now... just be glad I am here! It would seem that Mr. Reems is not a man who takes no for an answer," he observed. "You needn't be afraid to hold on to me—I promise not to tell anyone."

Without replying, Lisette did press her face to his snowy shirtfront, holding fast to the fabric of his waistcoat as if to replenish her strength.

Several feet away, Marcus Reems stirred and tried to sit up. Nicholai stared at him over Lisette's head, watching as he shook his head dazedly and blinked several times. Finally, he focused his eyes and met the icy stare of Nicholai Beauvisage.

"That was quite a blow you dealt me, Beauvisage."

"You deserved it."

His self-possession rapidly returning, Marcus got to his feet and pressed a handkerchief to his bloody chin. "I resent your tone of voice almost as much as I resent your attack on my person, sir. What is your interest in this matter?"

"I am a friend of Mistress Hahn's."

"I see." His tone was acid. Ever since the night he had watched Nicholai ride up Third Street with Lion, his vague dislike for the new Beauvisage brother had deepened into bitter animosity. "Are you in the habit of interfering in her affairs?"

Lisette broke in to reply, "No more than
you,
Mr. Reems. I wish that all of you meddling men would attend to your own business and let me attend to mine."

"Right now, Mistress Hahn, my business is with Mr. Beauvisage," Marcus replied coldly. "If he will apologize for his violence toward me, I will say good night."

Nicholai made a rude noise. "Apologize! I would sooner apologize to a rat in the alleyway! Considering your attack on Mistress Hahn, you are fortunate that I was able to restrain myself after one blow!"

Listening to his contemptuous tone, Marcus Reems's face darkened. Purposefully, he stepped forward and struck Nicholai across the cheek with the back of his hand. "Such crude insults leave me no choice, Mr. Beauvisage. The preservation of my honor demands that I challenge you."

Lisette looked from one man to the other, noting the way their eyes blazed in a way that left no room for reason.

"This is madness! You two cannot be considering a
duel?"'

Neither looked her way. "I accept your challenge, Mr. Reems, only because, as far as I can tell, you bring nothing but trouble to those people whose lives you touch."

"I do hope you count yourself among that elite group," Marcus parried smoothly, "because I plan to bring the worst sort of trouble to your life. Could we agree on weapons and location without the assistance of seconds? What is your choice?"

"You may save your threats. I would prefer rapiers, but in America I know that pistols are the rule."

"Excellent. There is a fine open meadow north of my summer estate, Wadelands. Tomorrow, at dawn?"

"I will be there with my second. Good night, Mr. Reems."

Marcus made a low mocking bow, his eyes on Lisette, then left the study. The instant the door closed, she burst out, "Have you taken leave of your senses? A
duel?"