When Strangers Marry (29 page)

“I am tired,” she whispered back, unwilling to hear more. Tempers were too high, and the boy was clearly incensed. All of this could be sorted out later.

Lysette huddled in bed alone, her teeth chattering. Her gaze moved restlessly through the dimly lit room. The events of the night kept churning through her mind, and she could not rid herself of the feeling that something terrible had been set in motion, something neither she nor Max could change.

She had never seen Max out of control, as he had been tonight. For a moment she had thought he would kill Sagesse right before her eyes. She pressed her hands to the side of her head to drive away the dark images. But they persisted mercilessly, as did the echo of Max’s vow:
By God, I’ll kill you
.

Lysette groaned and turned over, burying her face in the pillow. The house was silent. The
Vallerands had all retired, except for Bernard, who had chosen to spend the night somewhere else. They had all agreed not to mention anything about the evening to Irénée.

It seemed that hours dragged by before Lysette heard the sounds of someone’s arrival. She bolted out of bed. As she reached the bedroom door, Max stepped inside. He did not appear surprised to find her awake.

“What happened?” she asked, slipping her arms around his waist. She felt the tension in his body, a simmering, barely contained violence. His hand swept down her back, and he hugged her briefly before holding her away in order to look at her.

“
Ça va
?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Now that you’re here.” A furrow gathered between her brows as she tried to read his mood. “Is there going to be a duel tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Good,” she said, infinitely relieved. “Come to bed, and we’ll talk about—”

“Not yet,
petite
. I’m going out again.”

“Why?”

“I have an errand to take care of.”

“Tonight?” She shook her head in protest. “No, Max, you must stay here. I don’t care what business matters you have or what the errand is. I need you. Stay with me—”

“I’ll return soon,” he said firmly. “I have no choice about this, Lysette.”

She could not let him go anywhere tonight, not in
this dangerous mood. All her instincts insisted that she keep him safe with her. “Don’t go,” she said, gripping the front of his coat.

As she saw that he was about to refuse, she played a card she had hoped would not be necessary. “You told me once that if I asked you not to do something, you would oblige me. Now I am asking. Don’t go.”

Max let out a growl of frustration. “Dammit, Lysette. I have to. Don’t do this to me tonight.”

“Are you refusing me?” Lysette asked, staring into his narrowed eyes. She sensed his dilemma, his desire to please her clashing violently with his urgent need to accomplish whatever task he had set for himself. His mouth was taut with exasperation.

The silence stretched like a cord about to snap. Rather than allow Max to suffer another moment of torturous inner debate, Lysette decided to tip the balance. Her slender hands dropped from his coat and smoothed over the front of his breeches. She felt his body start at the unexpected touch. Finding the stirring shape of him, she cupped and squeezed gently, bringing the heavy shaft to pulsing life. She pressed the tips of her breasts to his chest.

His voice had lowered to a deep, unsteady timbre. “Lysette, what are you doing?”

“Distracting you.” The shaft beneath her hands was full and thick now, and she plucked at the carved onyx buttons of his breeches to free it. With the help of the straining pressure beneath the thick cloth, the buttons popped easily from their holes.
Lysette made a sound of pleasure as her fingers slid around the rigid length of him.

Max gasped and staggered backward a step, and she followed readily, her teasing fingers slipping to the silken place beneath his testicles. “Lysette,” he said gruffly, “if you think that is going to keep me here, you’re wrong.”

“What about this?” Her head lowered, and she took him into her soft, hot mouth. Her tongue searched delicately until she found a pulsing vein on the underside of the tumescent shaft.

She heard a strangled sound above her, before he found the breath to reply.

“
That’s
going to keep me here.” He leaned against the wall, breathing raggedly as she used her mouth and hands to arouse him thoroughly. When he could stand no more, he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed, consuming her with ravenous passion.

New Orleans was ablaze with gossip. The rivalry between Etienne Sagesse and Maximilien Vallerand was well known, but the events at the Leseur ball were outrageous. The story of Sagesse’s drunken advances on Vallerand’s red-haired wife was recounted until the wildest rumors scattered from one household to the next.

It was said that the young Madame Vallerand had been half naked out on the gallery. One witness was certain he had heard Vallerand swear to take revenge on every member of the Sagesse family.
Someone else claimed that Vallerand had threatened to strangle his second wife as he had the first, if she was ever caught even looking at another man.

As Max went to his small shipping office in town, he was well aware of scurrying excitement in his wake. Not since before his marriage had women given him such glances, as if he were some dangerous animal to be avoided. Men regarded him with measuring gazes, like boys facing the schoolyard bully. Filled with disgust, Max concluded his business as quickly as possible. Obviously, it was his lot in life to be hounded by scandal whether he deserved it or not.

When he returned to the plantation, he saw several carriages stopped on the long drive in front of the main house. It was not Irénée’s usual at-home day. Frowning, he walked in and removed his gloves and hat. There was a steady hum of voices coming from the parlor.

Before he went to investigate, Lysette appeared. “Irénée’s friends,” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile, taking his arm. “Don’t show yourself. We don’t want anyone to faint.” She led him to the library. Max allowed her to tug him forward, while he filled his eyes with the sight of her. She was dressed in a vivid blue day gown trimmed with frothy white lace.

“Your mother has had a wonderful morning,” she informed him, closing the library door. “Everyone from far and near has visited to hear her version of last night. It matters not in the least that she wasn’t even there.”

Max smiled reluctantly, reflecting that whereas any other wife would be strained and upset, Lysette was making light of the situation. He bent to kiss her, relishing the sweetness of her lips. “Don’t worry,” he said wryly. “The scandal could fade in as little as ten, twelve years.”

Lysette smiled and pulled his head down again. “We’ll just have to keep to ourselves until then.”

“Madame Vallerand,” he breathed, his lips sliding to her throat, “you could make hell itself seem appealing.”

“Wherever you go,
bien-aimé
, I’ll be certain to follow.”

Late that night Lysette was awakened as Max lifted his arm from her waist and left the bed. She mumbled in protest, missing the warmth of his body. “What are you doing?”

“I have to leave for a little while.”

“Leave?” Sleepy and irritated, she pushed her hair out of her face. “Didn’t we discuss this
last
night?”

“We did.” He pulled on his breeches and hunted for his discarded shirt. “And I should have taken care of my business then…but I was distracted.”

“Can’t this business be attended to in the daylight?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Are you going to do something dangerous? Illegal?”

“Not entirely.”

“Max!”

“I will return in approximately two hours.”

“I do not approve,” she muttered. “I
hate
it when you go out at night.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, pushing her back down, kissing her forehead. He tucked the covers around her. “When you wake, I’ll be here beside you.”

A light, drizzling rain greeted Lysette in the morning, and she dressed more warmly than was usually required for a September day. Her simple velvet dress was made of a rust-colored red that brought out the color of her hair. She parted her hair in the middle and gathered it loosely at the back of her head.

A faint groan came from the bed, and she looked over her shoulder at the mass of tangled sheets and long hair-dusted limbs. As he had promised, Max had returned during the night. Refusing to give any explanation of where he had been, he had shed his clothes, smothered her questions by making love to her, and promptly gone to sleep. Lysette had been irritated by his evasiveness, but also relieved to have him back.

She walked to the bed now, her hands resting on her hips. “So, you’re awake,” she said pertly.

“I’m tired,” he muttered.

“Good, I hope you’re
exhausted
. Maybe tonight you will stay in your own bed instead of going on some mysterious errand that you can’t even explain to your own wife.”

Max sat up, the bed linens falling to his waist as
he rubbed his face. As annoyed with him as she was, Lysette could not help but appreciate the sight of his tawny, muscular body. “All right,” he muttered. “I’ll explain everything to you, as it is clear that I’ll have no peace otherwise. Last night I—”

He stopped as he heard heavy footsteps racing up the stairs.

Frowning curiously, Lysette stepped into the hallway and saw Philippe. The boy’s face was blank with panic. “Where is Justin?” he cried as soon as he saw her. “Is he home?”

“I don’t know,” she said, partially closing the bedroom door while Max pulled on a robe. “I think he is roaming about town with friends. Why? What is the matter?”

Philippe fought to catch his breath. “I went to my fencing lesson,” he gasped. “I h-heard…news about Etienne Sagesse….”

Lysette was gripped by an ominous chill as he paused. She felt Max’s presence behind her, and she leaned back against him. “Go on,” Max said, opening the door wider. “What about Sagesse, Philippe?”

“I heard that he was found last night in the Vieux Carré, near Rampart Street…. Etienne Sagesse has been murdered.”

T
he full weight of the suspicions cast on Max was revealed by the visit of Jean-Claude Gervais, the captain of the
gens d’armes
. Gervais, the highest-ranking police official in New Orleans, would not have come himself unless the situation was extremely grave.

Captain Gervais fervently wished to be in anyone’s shoes other than his own. He had not forgotten the favor Maximilien Vallerand had done him not long ago, putting a few words in the right ears to ensure the
gens d’armes
were provided with new arms and equipment. And now he was repaying the man by intruding on his privacy and questioning him in regard to murder. Suppressing his discomfort, Gervais assumed an impassive expression as he was welcomed into the Vallerand home.

“Monsieur Vallerand,” he began, standing ramrod-straight
as Max closed the library door to afford them privacy. “The reason I am here—”

“I know why you’re here, Captain.” Vallerand walked to a set of crystal decanters and held one up with an inquiring glance.

“
Non, merci
,” Gervais said, although he sorely desired a drink.

Vallerand shrugged and poured himself a brandy. “Sit down, if you wish. I expect this might take a while.”

“Monsieur Vallerand,” Gervais said, lowering his bulky frame into a deep leather chair, “I must begin by saying this is not an official—”

“I know that you have many questions, Captain. To save time, let us both be direct.” Vallerand smiled slightly. “We’ll save small talk for a more pleasant occasion,
oui
?”

Gervais nodded. “Is it true, monsieur, that you threatened Etienne Sagesse’s life the night before last, on the premises of the Leseur plantation?”

Vallerand nodded. “Sagesse had just insulted my wife. Naturally I wanted to beat him to a pulp. But a fight was prevented by both our families. And I was persuaded not to challenge him to a duel because of his condition.”

“Yes. I have been told that he drank.” Only a Creole would understand the delicate significance Gervais placed on the last two words. The phrase was an indictment of his masculinity, honor, and character. It was unpardonable for a Creole to drink more liquor than he was able to hold.

Gervais clasped his hands loosely, resting them on
his plump thigh. “Monsieur, your wife and Monsieur Sagesse were at one time betrothed, were they not?”

Vallerand’s sable eyes narrowed. “They were.”

“The Sagesse family claims that you stole her from Etienne. How exactly was that accomplished?”

Vallerand was about to reply when there came a gentle knock, and the door was pushed open a crack.

“
Oui
?” Vallerand said abruptly.

Gervais heard a woman’s quiet murmur. “I would like to listen,
mon mari
, if it would not displease you. I promise not to interfere.”

Vallerand sent a questioning glance to Gervais. “If the captain has no objections. Captain Gervais, my wife, Lysette Vallerand.”

Gervais bowed politely, discovering that the young Madame Vallerand was a striking woman, with her exotic red hair and vivid blue eyes. She possessed a wholesome quality, but at the same time she summoned images of rolling naked among fresh white bed linens…and her soft, carnal mouth brought startlingly lurid thoughts to mind. Even with her imposing husband in the room, Gervais felt his face begin to glow, and he was relieved to resume his seat in the leather chair.

“Captain?” Vallerand prompted.

Gervais started. “Monsieur…the questions I must ask may be distressing to Madame Vallerand.”

“We may be frank in front of my wife,” Vallerand said, sitting beside his wife.

“Ah, yes. The, ah, theft of Etienne Sagesse’s betrothed.”

“
Theft
?” Madame Vallerand repeated incredulously. “I would hardly call it that. When I first arrived in New Orleans, I left the Sagesse home of my own accord—because of Monsieur Sagesse’s ungentlemanly behavior toward me. At the invitation of Maximilien’s mother, I came to stay here—she was an acquaintance of my mother’s, you see—and then I took ill. During my convalescence, I fell in love with Maximilien and accepted his offer of marriage. I was not stolen from anyone. It is very simple,
voyez-vous
?”

“Indeed,” Gervais muttered. “Monsieur Vallerand, you dueled with Monsieur Sagesse over this matter, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“Would you say it deepened the enmity that already existed between you?”

“No,” Vallerand said shortly. “In fact, I ended the duel prematurely.”

“Why?”

“I pitied him. Any man who was there will concur that I could have easily killed him on the spot, in legitimate defense of my honor. But I have finally reached the age, Captain, when a man desires a measure of peace. I even dared to hope that the feud between the Sagesses and Vallerands might come to an end.” His brows quirked as he saw that even his wife was looking at him skeptically. “It’s true,” he said mildly.

“Even with the knowledge of Sagesse’s relationship with your first wife?” the captain asked.

“Hatred is a draining emotion,” Vallerand replied. “It leaves room for little else.” He glanced at his wife with a slight smile. “I finally began to relinquish it when I realized how much richer life could be without it.” His attention swerved back to the captain. “Not that I forgave Sagesse, you understand. His betrayal struck deep, and I have as much pride as any man. But I became tired of nursing the old bitterness, and I wished to put the past behind me.”

“But Sagesse made that impossible?”

“I wouldn’t say that. There was virtually no communication between us after the duel.”

Captain Gervais asked several more questions about the affair between Corinne and Etienne, and then he changed tack. “Monsieur Vallerand, you were seen by two witnesses in the Vieux Carré last night. Your purpose there?”

Vallerand’s expression became guarded, and he hesitated before replying.

“I was visiting my former
placée.
”

Both Lysette and Captain Gervais flushed.
Mariame
? Lysette thought wildly. What in God’s name had he been doing with Mariame? She blinked as she realized Captain Gervais was speaking to her. “Madame Vallerand, if you wish to leave the room—”

“No, I’ll stay,” she said tonelessly.

Clearly dismayed, Gervais resumed the questioning. “Your mistress?” he asked Max.

“Yes, for several years.”

Lysette only half listened to the rest of the interview. Her mind buzzed with distasteful possibilities. Either Max had lied to her and was still keeping Mariame as a mistress, or he was lying to Captain Gervais in order to cover up the true reason he had been in the Vieux Carré.

Finally Captain Gervais stood up to indicate the questioning was over. “Monsieur Vallerand,” he said solemnly, “I feel obligated to bring certain facts to your attention—unofficially, of course.”

Max inclined his head, his gaze fastened alertly on the captain’s face.

“It is important for the people of New Orleans to feel the law is being executed as competently now as it was before the American possession,” Gervais said. “The public has little faith in any of the institutions of government—including, I regret to say, my own force. Etienne Sagesse was of an old and recognized family, and his death is considered a great loss. People demand quick retribution for such a crime. Moreover, a fair trial cannot be guaranteed to anyone. The court system is in turmoil. One would be a fool to hang his life on the hopes of fairness and justice.”

Max nodded slowly.

“Especially,” Gervais added, “when several prominent men in the community have come forth to denounce you. One of these men is the judge of
the County Court. They are calling for your arrest. It is more than simple saber-rattling, monsieur.”

“Do any of these men, by chance, belong to the Mexican Association?” Max asked.

“Most of them, I believe,” Gervais replied, a bit surprised by the question.

Burr’s friends, Lysette realized in outrage. The associates of Aaron Burr were calling for his arrest, most likely having promised Burr they would do what they could to take revenge on Max for his disdain of their cause. There could be no better opportunity than this.

“I am giving you time to make plans, monsieur.” Gervais looked at Max squarely. “Because I shall be forced to arrest you quite soon.” He paused. “Have you any questions for me, monsieur?”

“Just one,” Max said tersely. “How was Monsieur Sagesse murdered?”

“He was strangled,” Gervais replied. “It takes great strength, monsieur, to kill a man of Sagesse’s size in such a manner.” He looked pointedly at Max’s deeply muscled chest and shoulders. “Not many men could have accomplished that.”

Lysette could not make a sound as Max guided the captain to the front door. She pressed her fists against her stomach. She felt as if she were in a nightmare, and she longed to wake up from it.

A minute that seemed like a year went by, and then Max returned to her. He dropped to one knee beside the chair, taking both her cold fists in his warm hand. “Sweet,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

She gave him a fixed, frantic stare.

“I did see Mariame last night,” Max said. “I had to make arrangements for her son—by another man—to flee the territory. He’s of mixed blood, and last week he was discovered having an affair with a white woman. His life is in jeopardy. You may have heard what they do to…well, we won’t go into that. A few days ago Mariame sent me a message asking for help. Knowing what the boy means to her, I could not refuse.”

Lysette had barely listened to the explanation. “What Captain Gervais said about allowing time to make plans…he has given us time to get away. He meant escape, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Max sighed. “That is what he meant.”

“We must be gone by tonight, then. It won’t take long for me to pack. Mexico? No, France—”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said gently.

Lysette gripped his coat lapels. “Yes, we are! I don’t care where we live, as long as I can be with you. If you stay, they’ll—” Her voice cracked. “I believe what Captain Gervais said, Max.”

“I did not kill Etienne Sagesse.”

“I know that. But we will never be able to prove it, and even if we could, no one would listen. The American authorities want to show their power over the Creoles, and to take down a man of your position would make them feel as if they were finally in control of the city. We
have
to go. They
will
convict you. Don’t you understand? If anything happens to you, Max…”

“We’re not going to run. That’s no life for you, or me.”

“No!” she said, jerking away as he tried to comfort her. “No, don’t say anything else!” Rapidly she gained control of herself. “I am going upstairs to pack for both of us and the boys. Tell Noeline to have the trunks brought out. No, no, I will tell her.” She jumped back as he reached out for her. “Don’t touch me!”

“We’re staying, Lysette,” he said quietly.

She steadied her quivering chin, and rapidly considered ways to force him to go. “
I
am leaving for France tonight, and you can either stay and be hanged with your principles, or go with your family and be happy. It shouldn’t take you long to choose!”

Lysette began to storm out of the room, and then, lightning-swift, reappeared at the doorway. “And while you are considering your options,” she added, “you might think about the fact that by now I am very likely pregnant. Our child will need a father! And if
that
doesn’t perturb you…” Her eyes slitted. “Then I swear by all the saints that if you stay here to be hanged, I’ll
still
go to France, and find someone else to marry! Does
that
motivate you to come with me?”

As she left and hurried upstairs, Max sat heavily in his chair. Despite his grim worry, he couldn’t suppress a rueful grin. He could search the world over and never find a woman who understood him half so well. In a few concise sentences, Lysette had managed to hit him in every place he was vulnerable.

*   *   *

The house was still as a tomb, except for the sounds of Lysette’s hasty packing. Heavily veiled and grief-stricken, Irénée had taken Noeline with her to the cathedral, where she spent several hours taking counsel from an old, familiar priest, and praying brokenly for forgiveness for her son. She had not been able to speak to Max, or even look at him, as she left the plantation.

Of course, Max reflected, it had not crossed Irénée’s mind that he might
not
have killed Etienne Sagesse. For years she had lived with the belief that he had ended Corinne’s life. He wondered bleakly how Irénée could still love a son she thought to be a cold-blooded killer.

Prowling in and around the house until early evening, Max pondered the idea of escape and rejected it. Long ago he had acquired holdings in Europe, in case his property in Louisiana was ever jeopardized. If forced to flee, he had the means to keep himself and Lysette in comfortable style for the rest of their lives. But the years of exile, being haunted by his reputation, always looking over his shoulder in fear of retribution from the Sagesses or their kin…he and Lysette would never be happy. And the vendetta the Sagesses would declare would be extended to his children. His sons’ lives would be in danger, until someone paid for the crime Max was accused of. He had to stay and fight to prove his innocence.

Halting at the foot of the double staircase, he glanced at the second floor. Philippe had closeted himself in his room. After returning home and be
ing told about Max’s imminent arrest, Justin had left on some mysterious errand. A maid scurried by Max and went up the stairs carrying a leather valise, while Lysette urged her to hurry. Max shook his head ruefully. No one could fault the woman he had wed for lack of spirit. He set his foot on the first step, intending to go up and put a stop to the useless packing.

He stopped at the explosive sound behind him, as Justin threw open the front door and burst into the house like a madman.

“Father!” he shouted. “Fath—” The boy skidded to a halt in front of Max, all tense, trembling energy. The drizzling mist from outside had soaked into his clothes and hair, and he stood there dripping on the rug.