Spring Fires (4 page)

"My name is Lisette Hahn."

"Hmmm... that seems to—" He broke off, snapping his fingers in amusement. "I have it! Hahn's CoffeeHouse. I was there tonight for a jug of ale and I was surprised to learn that I could get supper as well. The stew was like ambrosia after the food I ate at sea. Are you one of
those
Hahns?"

"Yes, I am. I am pleased that you enjoyed my stew, sir."

"Why the devil are you here?"

"As a favor to your alleged brother and sister-in-law. I made these tortes for the party tonight." When he moved to the window, gazing toward the house, Lisette persisted, "If I did believe you were Nicholai Beauvisage, I would want to know how you came to be here tonight."

He looked down at the lovely girl who stood at his shoulder. Moonlight streamed in through the window, shooting her long pale curls with silver lights. He was unaccustomed to seeing a female in public with her hair loose and flowing, and there was a direct, intelligent glint in her eyes that was very intriguing. She smelled of vanilla and butter, yet was utterly appealing: slender and graceful, with an exquisite neck and soft rose-tinted lips...

"It is quite simple, Lisette. The situation in France has become rather uncomfortable, so I decided the time was ripe for a visit home. My ship docked tonight. Since my house in town is closed up, I went to my parents' to fetch the key, only to learn they had come
here.
So, I procured a horse and rode out. When I saw the light on back here in the kitchen I thought I might find some soap and water before venturing into the fray–" He gestured toward the lights, music, and laughter. "Where are Mrs. Forbes and Pierre and all the rest?"

"They've all gone to the main house. Dinner will be served momentarily, so they are busy with that. As you can see, I'm left with the last course—and I had better finish up before Pierre returns to fetch these."

His eyes lit up at this. "Pierre is coming?
Bon Dieu,
it will be wonderful to see that old elf. Do you know, I've been gone ten years... and it suddenly seems a lifetime."

She regarded him from the corner of her eye as she assembled the last torte. He certainly did sound authentic. "I don't think you will find your family much changed. Have you been in touch?"

"Letters, yes—until a few months ago, when I was forced to leave my chateau for Paris. I've been duly informed of all the births, weddings... and the death of dear Grandmere last year." He perched on the edge of the table and stared into the fire. As she spread icing flavored with orange peel, Lisette's eyes wandered over Nicholai Beauvisage. There was a chiseled strength about his profile that was very unlike the description Katya had given of her brother. Fun loving, easygoing, vulnerable—those were the adjectives people had used in reference to the younger Beauvisage brother. But it was obvious that the decade he had spent in France had carved out a very different man. The lines of his body were steely; muscles and tendons showed in his bronzed neck and were outlined beneath the clothes that concealed the rest of his body. All outward signs of a harder inner man, Lisette thought.

"You are staring, mademoiselle," Nicholai told her sardonically. "Do you find me odd looking?"

The last torte was done; Lisette put the wooden spoon into an empty bowl and gave him a wry smile. "Not at all, Mr. Beauvisage. I was thinking that, although you may not see many changes in your family, I'll wager that they will be surprised by the transformation
you
have undergone!"

Chapter 4

March 25, 1793

While waiting for Pierre to arrive, Nicholai Beauvisage worked up a craving for Lisette. Six long weeks had passed since he had bedded a woman, whose face he had already forgotten. It was his experience in France that females of the serving class were eager to please men of breeding and grateful for the attention. Smoothly, he eased into a more charming attitude. He began to compliment Lisette and look for excuses to touch her.

She, however, did not respond in the expected manner. Instead of becoming a shy coquette, the chit turned wary and cool. After receiving a second barbed set-down, Nicholai traded charm for bluntness.

"Hasn't anyone troubled to teach you manners?" he demanded.

Lisette was washing the bowls. Not bothering to look up, she retorted, "My dear Mr. Beauvisage, I see no reason to be polite to a man who wants something from me that he could pay for on the docks."

"Your tongue is sharp," he muttered in a menacing tone.

"What do you expect? You would like it if I batted my eyes at you and unfastened my gown, wouldn't you? You've a lot of nerve, questioning
my
manners! Would you be trying to charm me into your bed if I were one of the ladies dancing in the parlor?"

Her cheeks were flushed with anger and Nicholai's face

hardened at her insults, but before either of them could speak again, Pierre burst in.

"Mon Dieu!"
he cried. "The tortes! I have been so busy!" The little white-haired valet scurried toward the confections that lined the table, but halted in mid-step and seemed to freeze. His mouth gaped for several seconds before he managed to croak, "M'sieur Nicky! Can this be? Are you a ghost?"

The younger, much taller man came forward with a grin to embrace Pierre. "Christ, but it's good to see a familiar face! You look just the same!"

As much as both men would have enjoyed a leisurely conversation, time did not allow it. Nicholai needed a bath and a suit of clothes before he would venture into the party and the reunion with his family. Lisette solved several problems by insisting that she would transfer the tortes to the house while Pierre prepared the bath and hunted down a suit for Nicholai's use.

A blanket was strung up across a back corner of the kitchen, a copper bathtub concealed behind it. Lisette hurried in and out with the tortes while Pierre heated water and filled the tub. She made a grand effort to ignore the proceedings and avoid Nicholai's mocking eyes.

Finally, the last torte was handed over to a crisply dressed maid in the main house and Lisette started back to the kitchen. She almost collided with Pierre in the garden.

"I cannot take you back to Philadelphia until I see to M'sieur Nicholai as well as several other matters. I am sorry to make you wait, but now I must find a suit!" He was hurrying on, but stopped to add, "This is such a wonderful night! Everyone will be so happy!"

"Pierre, does Mr. Beauvisage seem the same to you?"

The Frenchman's eyes were wide in the darkness.
"Mais, non!
Truly, he is a man now. Greatly changed. The family will be astounded."

Lisette nodded slowly as she watched him disappear into the moonlit garden. For a moment, she wondered whether or not to return to the kitchen, even though Nicholai and his bath were concealed behind a curtain.

"Am I to stand out here in the cold?" she whispered, deciding at once. A few more steps and Lisette opened the door purposefully, only to find the bathtub in full view. The blanket lay in a heap on the floor.

"It fell," Nicholai said with a mischievous smile.

Lisette was astonished to realize that she was blushing. She had believed herself beyond shock or embarrassment after her years at the CoffeeHouse where men regularly said and did things no other virtuous girl had to deal with. How could her composure disintegrate
now
,
when she needed it most?

Lisette counted on the firelight to hide her dusky cheeks. "I am certain that the position of that blanket could not matter less to me, Mr. Beauvisage," she said coolly, meeting his amused gaze.

He grinned. "You don't mind if I get out, then?"

"Please, do
not."
She strove for a disgusted tone, but could not help noticing the strong, deeply tanned neck and wide shoulders that glistened with soapy water.

"You are an intriguing paradox," Nicholai decided, enjoying this light banter that chased his thoughts from France and the recent past.

"I haven't the faintest notion what you mean, sir."

"I perceive that you are a woman who has no interest in any man—nor
need
for one." His eyes glinted with gentle perception. "Isn't that so? You would have me believe that, mademoiselle... believe that no man could send a chill down your spine or cause your heart to race with longing for his touch, kiss—"

"Mr. Beauvisage!" Lisette burst out, angry to feel her cheeks burn again. "You have been living in France too long—and I think that you would not dare to speak this way to a female of what you'd consider your own station. Not that you are in any way above me—"

Nicholai laughed. "I have no interest in this class nonsense. If I believed in it, I would doubtless have lost my head, literally, long ago. But we digress. As I was saying... the other side of your paradoxical nature is this: I see, opposing your coolness, that utterly beautiful face and body that seem to cry out to be made love to. I see the fire in your eyes when you are angry, I feel the genuine passion of your character."

"You are inexpressibly insolent," Lisette told him in her iciest tone.

"Which side of you is real?" he continued, ignoring her insult. "You know you can confide in me; I won't tell a soul."

Lisette stared at him in fury, noting that his own gaze had hardened in challenge. "You are a rude, odious man and you have further spoiled an already disagreeable evening."

"Well, I would ordinarily beg for forgiveness on bended knee, but am prevented by my state of undress and the fact that my
own
day has been somewhat less than idyllic."

Lisette noted that the light tone was gone from his voice. Eyes averted, he slowly soaped the strong expanse of his chest, and for a moment looked poignantly weary. Before Lisette could ponder the ordeal of his escape from France or speak in a gentler tone, Pierre burst in, brandishing a handsome suit of sage green, a fawn waistcoat, and a snowy starched shirt with pleated cuffs.

"Voila!"
he cried happily. "You will look magnificent, m'sieur! The colors are much better for you than for your brother; he has only worn this suit two or three times."

As the little Frenchman bustled about, Lisette went out to the dark garden. Pacing the brick walkways that divided up the intricate boxwood-edged flower beds, she wished that Pierre would hurry with his duties so that she might return to the CoffeeHouse. Tense and bone-tired, she felt that the unsettling appearance of Nicholai Beauvisage had stretched her nerves to the snapping point

Without even realizing her direction, Lisette had come within a few yards of the main house. Light and music and the movement of richly garbed guests assaulted her senses; she recognized Annie Bingham through the French doors, twirling coquettishly in the arms of President Washington.

"Lisette? Is that you?"

She whirled to find Lion and Meagan Hampshire coming out of the darkened garden from a different direction. "You startled me, Senator!" Lisette managed a smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Hampshire. You are looking very beautiful tonight."

Meagan's expression was doubtful. "Thank you."

"I strayed a bit too near the house, I'm afraid," she went on. "I wouldn't want anyone to see me wandering about looking like this. I'm just waiting for Pierre to take me back to town."

Lion smiled. "Don't apologize, Lisette. Even with icing on your nose, you are lovelier than most of the women inside."

In the darkness, Meagan's haunted look went unnoticed, and the next moment all three were distracted by the sudden appearance of energetic Pierre and a tall, darkly handsome stranger whom neither Lion nor Meagan recognized.

As the little Frenchman made introductions and the Hampshires enthusiastically told Nicholai how many tales they had heard of him and how happy they were to see him safe at home, Lisette scrutinized the arrogant Mr. Beauvisage.

In the shadows, gilt-edged with chandelier light, Nicholai was quite devastating—there was a raw, wild quality about him, despite the fine clothing. He was a man who belonged outdoors. Yet, his eyes gleamed with intellect and a sure wit, and his demeanor was confident as he kissed Meagan's hand with all the grace of a native Frenchman.

One brow arched in a tiny insolent salute to Lisette before he allowed Pierre and the Hampshires to pull him into the house. Lisette shivered in the night air as she watched him disappear into the crowd. What a happy night this would be for all the Beauvisages and their friends. Ten years was a long time...

Shivering again, Lisette wrapped slim hands about her arms and started back to the kitchen to wait for Pierre.

* * *

Nicholai accepted another snifter of brandy from Alec and managed a weary smile. His face ached from smiling; it was not an expression he'd had much use for of late. It was a shame he was so damned tired tonight... The happy reunion with his family seemed like a somewhat blurry dream. It was difficult to comprehend that his brother, now forty, had an arm around him, and Caro, his first fierce one-sided love, had been rushing over to hug him every few minutes. Little Katya was nearly a woman, engaged to be married! How could that be? Maman and Papa stood nearby... older, yet seeming to shed years each time they looked at their long-lost son.