Winds of the Storm (17 page)

 

Since leaving Domino's after the ill-fated Lynette incident, Archer was filled with the nagging sense that he was supposed to remember something, but he had no idea what that something might be. Dressing now to go and get her for their late dinner, the feeling gnawed at him like a bad tooth. Tying his tie in the mirror, he cast his mind back to the commotion on the steps. In his memory he relived their arrival, then the confrontation with the coffee cup, and then he saw Domino slide the razor back into the sheath around her thigh. Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of his neck.
It was the razor!
Where had he seen it before? His mind raced; seeking, sifting, frantically searching for the answer, and then he remembered a fetid Georgia barn and a remarkable woman. The enormity of the theory stopped him cold. Could it be? But how many women carried pearl-handled razors in thigh sheaths? His broad smile reflected in the mirror. What in the world was the famed Butterfly doing in New Orleans posing as a madame? He couldn't believe he'd actually stumbled onto Domino's true identity, but he knew as sure as his name was Archer Antonio Le Veq that Domino and the Butterfly were one and the same.

She'd saved his life that night in the barn. There was no doubt in his mind that had she not been sent to fetch him, his mother would be mourning not only their brother Gerrold's death but Archer's as well. He couldn't wait to thank her in person.

“Oh my sweet
papillon,
” he said softly, translating the word “butterfly” into his native French. “What a night we're going to have.”

Grinning like a kid at Christmas, Archer finished his preparations, then, whistling like the pleased male that he was, left his suite to collect his carriage.

A
fter having taken a quick bath to rid her skin of the smells of men, liquor, and cigar smoke, Zahra stepped into the gold gown she'd picked out to wear for her meal with Archer. As always, Wilma had designed the neckline to be low and teasing. The edges were scalloped and the gown itself sumptuous enough for royalty.

Knowing he would undoubtedly entice her into engaging in that “something else” they'd made reference to out on the steps this afternoon, she'd boldly left off her corset in favor of a gossamer, waist-length shift instead. Society would call her shameless for forgoing the traditional undergarment, but that was how Archer made her feel; shameless, reckless. In truth, she never wore a corset in her role as laundress, but being Domino meant forcing herself into the cinching garment day after day, having the whalebone cut into her
flesh and the binding hinder her breathing. Tonight she'd be able to breathe in as deeply as she wanted, and knowing Archer, Zahra was certain she'd be needing each and every one.

Giving herself a final approving look in the mirror, she picked up her handbag, gloves, and shawl, then went to wait downstairs.

As she descended the staircase, she saw that he'd already arrived and that he was formally dressed. He was talking to the twins. Now that they were done performing for the night, they were wearing long flannel nightgowns. The two looked prim enough to be the daughters of a pastor, but Zahra and half the men of New Orleans knew better.

When he glanced away from the conversation for a moment and saw Zahra, he stood, and his smile of greeting warmed her insides. “Good evening, Archer,” she said, crossing the room to where he and the twins were, “or should I say good morning?”

It was, after all, 2 a.m. She asked him about his attire. “Did you just come from a ball or the opera?”

He looked down at himself. “No. It's what I felt like wearing.”

“I'm flattered.”

He took her golden-gloved hand and kissed the back. “And there's much more to follow.”

Pierced by the desire blazing in his eyes, a pulse began beating in her throat. Noticing the twins gazing at them like two engrossed adolescents, Zahra said to them, “Go to bed. I'll see you two later.”

They stood, gave her a knowing look, then said in unison, “Don't stay out too late. Unless you have to.”

Giggling, they ran off and raced each other up the staircase.

Zahra shook her head. What a pair. She would dearly miss them when this assignment ended.

“Ready?” he asked.

Zahra saw Alfred standing on the balcony. “Mr. Le Veq will bring me back later.”

The big man nodded, and Zahra and Archer departed.

As they drove through the nearly deserted streets, he asked, “How did the evening go?”

“It went well. The twins were in rare form. The customers were happy. A madam couldn't ask for more. How was your evening?” she asked.

“Uneventful until I began dressing to come and meet you.”

“More flattery?”

“No,” he replied casually, “just the truth.”

A contented Zahra sat back against the seat to enjoy the rest of the ride.

They entered his suites through his private entrance, which was accessed by an iron stairway on the back side of the hotel. In the front parlor the flames in the big fireplace danced in the darkness. The hush in the room reminded her of her last visit.

Archer said, “Let me light a lamp.”

Soon the parlor's interior was softly illuminated, but the hush in the room remained.

“How about you take a seat and I'll add some wood to the fires. There's a chill in here.”

While he went about the task, Zahra looked around. The furnishings were as impressive as the last time she'd visited. A framed portrait on the wall drew her attention. She didn't remember seeing it last time. “Who's this beautiful lady?”

“My mother, Juliana. The artist delivered it a few days ago.”

The regal beauty, with her dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair, was posed at an angle so that one could see the strength in her jawline and the warmth in her eyes. The face showed wisdom and the hint of a smile. Zahra thought it too bad that she and Juliana would never meet. Mrs. Le Veq would undoubtedly be an interesting woman to know. “I've heard she's a broker?”

He came to stand by Zahra's side. “Yes, she is. Beneath all that loveliness lies the heart of a shark. She buys properties and bonds like most women buy hats. My brothers and I would walk through Hades for her, though.”

Zahra continued to study Juliana's strong face. “I'll bet you were a trial for her growing up.”

“No denying that. Having to raise a brood of boys alone couldn't have been easy. Our father died at sea.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“She made the best of it, however. We never wanted for anything, and no matter how many deals she had brewing, she always had time to spend with us.”

“She sounds like a great mother.”

“She is. She'll like you, I think.”

Zahra responded with a shake of her head and
a smile. “Archer, I'm never going to meet your mother. I'd never do that to her.”

“
Never
is a strong word, Domino. Life often has a way of negating
nevers.
”

“Well, still, don't bet your hotel.”

He grinned and escorted her into the dining room.

Once again, there were candles on the table, along with elegant china, gleaming silver, and crystal flutes.

“I didn't think you wanted a heavy meal this time of morning, so Aristide prepared a simple bisque and baguettes.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

He helped her with her chair. “You look lovely, as always.”

“Thank you.”

As he took his seat across from her, he raised his flute of wine and said, “To a memorable morning.”

Touched by his tone and the desire in his eyes, she raised hers in response.

It didn't take them long to consume the light meal, and when they were done, Archer cleared the table.

“How about we move to the fire.”

They sat side by side on the sofa. He draped his arm across the back, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Enjoying the companionable silence and closeness of each other, they were content to watch the flames.

Finally, Archer said, “You've led me a merry chase these past few weeks.”

“Humility is good for the soul.”

He smiled and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “So I'm learning.”

“Women have obviously come to you too easily.”

“That's not been the case with you.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

His fingers were idly stroking the edge of her jaw and the side of her neck. Each languid pass stoked the embers of her desire.

Then he asked, “Where will you go when you leave New Orleans?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. West maybe.”

Archer didn't like the idea of her leaving, but because he knew her true identity, he also knew her leaving would be a foregone conclusion. “What would make you stay?”

Zahra looked into his eyes. The seriousness she saw there gave her pause. She knew the answer he sought, but she had to tell him the truth, for once. “I can't stay, no matter what is offered or promised.”

“I admire your honesty.”

He reached out and slowly traced her mouth. The sweet sensation closed Zahra's eyes. “Do you know what the word
papillon
means in English,
chérie
…”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and placed a humid kiss against one parted corner of her lips, then offered the same kiss to the other side of her mouth. His fingers slid down her throat and then across her collarbone.

“Do you?” he whispered, lifting her chin so he
could see what he could of her eyes in the golden mask.

“No,” she finally responded. Sensations were spreading though her like warm sunlight.

He placed his lips against her ear and husked out, “It means…‘butterfly.'”

Zahra stiffened. For a moment, she wasn't sure what this meant, but when he winked at her boldly, she leaped off the sofa. “Damn you, Archer Le Veq.”

But his smile remained. “What's wrong?”

“Who told?”

“No one.”

“Then how'd you find out?”

“From you.”

Archer could see the confusion on her face. “It was your razor. The one you scared Lynette with is the same one you used to cut me down in that barn.”

Zahra threw up her hands. Trust him to have such an acute memory. It had never crossed her mind that something as mundane as a razor would be her undoing. “Dammit!” she swore.

He chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Le Veq.”

“Maybe not to you, but I knew you were a fraud from the moment I placed your hand on me. You'd never held a man like that before, had you?”

She didn't lie. “No.”

The heat in his eyes made her desire return.

He walked over to where she stood and fit himself against her rigidly set back, then wrapped his
arms gently around her. He kissed her cheek. “Why're you so upset?”

She turned to face him. “Because I've never had my disguise breached before. Never.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“That's not the point.” Once again she whispered, “Dammit!”

Smiling, he studied her masked face. He reached up to the ribbon ties, and his eyes silently asked for permission.

“You may as well.”

The ties loosened easily, and a moment later her face was revealed. Archer would be the first to admit that he had no clear memory of her features, only that she'd been a beauty. Now, five years later, he realized he'd been correct. The brown face was regal, the features almost feline. The skin, so soft, drew his fingers down her cheeks. “Thank you for saving my life…” he husked out.

In that moment, Zahra's emotions changed; gone was the frustration, in its place a familiar tightening of her core. “You're welcome.”

The kiss that followed had been simmering since the day they'd met. The heat of their lips meeting overwhelmed them with its sweetness, its fire. He pulled her closer for a better fit, and she wrapped her arms around him in return. They nibbled, licked and placed kisses against passion-parted corners in urgent response to their need. Hands roamed; mapping, enticing, fueling a desire that made the kisses deepen and the sounds of their breathing rise in the otherwise silent room. He blazed a trail with his lips down
the column of her throat while his hands teased her breasts.

Archer thrilled to the feel of her softness inside the gown. “Where's your corset?” he asked, boldly easing down the neckline of her gown, then commanding the exposed nipple with his magic hands.

“In the wardrobe drawer. Ohh…” she cried out sensually as he took the prepared bud into his warm mouth. He loved her with a series of sucks and licks that had her twisting and groaning, arching and flowing.

“And you want to leave, this,” he accused heatedly.

He exposed her other breast and treated it to the same fiery loving. No, she didn't want to leave
this,
but she couldn't stay with him, no matter how thrilling the kisses stealing her breath or the fingers playing lustfully with her tight, damp nipples. Her allegiance was to her parents, not to this virtuoso playing her body like a rare and costly violin.

Archer wanted to make love to her until the end of time. Her perfumed skin, the way her breast filled his hand, the soft sounds she made when he circled his tongue around her nipple all set him ablaze. Even if he did have an eternity, he knew it would not be enough to bind her to him, or make her stay, so he planned to brand her with his loving; that way she'd never forget the feel of his hands, the taste of his kisses, or the passion fueling them both.

He undressed her then; slowly, lustily, and completely, until she was left standing with her back
to the fire, wearing only her garters, stockings, and low-heeled mules. He began again; kissing, teasing, fondling. Working his way down her body like an acolyte making love to his priestess, his touches between her thighs caused her to widen her stance in wanton welcome. When the first long-boned finger went in, she sucked in a shuddering breath, and her head fell back bonelessly. He worked her marvelously, erotically, making her hips circle with a rhythm as ancient as Adam and Eve. While she preened, he added another finger to the impaling, and her answering gasp was loud, strangled. He plied her with lusty, languid thrusts that made her raise herself to him shamelessly. Lowering himself to his knees, his fingers still moving, he spread the fingers wide, and, groaning, she spread her legs in response. Only then did he bend and taste and give her his tongue. His expertise was so staggering that Zahra screamed a joyful completion only moments later. Shattering, the orgasm rolling through her, his fingers still pleasuring, she came again, to his great delight, and he picked her up and carried her to his room.

Snatching off his clothes, Archer feasted his eyes on the voluptuous picture she made lying on his bed, still in the throes of her fading pleasure. Nude now and unable to resist, he kissed her soft mouth and eased his rampant manhood into the tight, warm channel that was love's delight. Feeling her close around him so completely, his groan broke the silence. Grabbing one of the bed pillows, he placed it strategically beneath her hips, then began his strokes.

Because of the pillow, Zahra could feel him so much better than last time, something she hadn't dreamed possible. She never knew a man could worship her this way, nor that passion could be so wild. She ceased to be Zahra, or Butterfly or Domino, and became Archer Le Veq's lover, and for the moment that's the only woman she wanted to be, because he was kissing her mouth, using love-gentled teeth on her nipples, the edge of her throat and the lobe of her ear. The strokes intensified in pace and in power, so she was again in the winds of the storm, matching him measure for measure. He filled his hands with her hips, and the glory of his increasing thrusts made her arch her waist and let him love her with as much fervor and force as he craved.