Lady Vixen (The Reckless Brides, Book 3) Page 7

  He was. Very angry with her. But he didn’t allow himself to say so. Bitterly he said, “Of course not. I enjoy having my generosity thrown back in my face.” He meant it. He wanted to care for her, he who cared for no one, or so he had convinced himself long ago, and she would not let him.

  Stricken, she glanced away. They continued thus for several seconds; then unable to stand the sight of her obvious distress, he asked quietly, “What is it you actually object to? Living in the same house with a bachelor? If that is so,” he said impetuously, “I will give you your own house. But let me assure you that we would not be in the way of each other. I confess that it would be pleasant to share my meals with another and to know that there would be someone waiting for me when I returned.”

  She smiled slightly and remarked, “If that is what you want, why not marry? Surely a wife-is the one you would wish to have waiting for you—not an old woman.” She gave a sigh and said, “It is too bad that you are not married and have not set up your nursery—you wouldn’t consider me too old to be a nanny.”

  “Are you saying you would work for me?” he demanded. .

  “Well, of course I would!”

  Raising his eyes heavenward, he cursed a pride that was as stubborn as it was gentle and muttered, “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.”

  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!

  Chapter 6

  The library at Thibodaux House was a long, narrow room. It ran the full length of the house, with tall windows at opposite ends. On one long wall was a magnificent moss-green marble fireplace; above the mantel rested a massive gilt-edged mirror, and before the fire burning on the grate were two scarlet-covered chairs with a 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 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. 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.

  This afternoon, she was staring out the window, her thoughts far away. Christmas had come and gone. 1814 was already a week old, and Saber had not yet returned. A fortnight of drizzling rain 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 chained pantheress. There was a book lying on the floor where just a few minutes ago she had thrown it in an 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 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. Despite her height, there was a fragile air about her.

  Sounds from the hallway jerked her from her wandering thoughts and frowning, she listened 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 temper today? Ignoring the leap in her pulse at the thought of his return, she willed herself to stay where she was. She didn’t fool herself that she wasn’t excited by his return—she was, but only because a fight with Saber, and she was certain there would be one, would chase away this ennui.

  Listening intently now, 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 obvious. Her mouth tightened—probably another of his fancy women. So much for her hope to enslave him.

  Several minutes passed, during which 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 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 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, 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 increased beating of her heart, she forced herself to remain unmoved, and raising an eyebrow, she murmured, “Are the fish that swim in the sea happy to see the shark return? I doubt it. 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. “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 a 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 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. Before she could defend herself or even guess his intention, his hands 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 a desperate urgency, his 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 losing himself in the deep, dark pools of her eyes, he muttered, “You’re a witch, Nick!” and 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 emotions or search for reasons for what was happening—she was too wrapped up i
n 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 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 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. Tell her to see to 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 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, “Keep your mouth shut until I’ve finished! Mauer is an 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.”

  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.

  “My Gawd! The gent’s turned respectable. Well, ain’t I betwattled!” Nicole drawled, 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, “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.

  “Because I say so,” Christopher returned, a wealth of meaning in his words.

  Nicole’s face tightened. “Do you always get your way?”

  “Of course.”

  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, curiosity uppermost in her voice, she asked, “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. “You had better believe it‍‍—and remember it!” he snapped. “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.”

  Nicole stared at him, and shaken by the violence she could feel in the air, she whispered, “Why? Why are you doing this? What do you intend?”

  Looking down at her, he didn’t understand any of the emotions he was experiencing. Because he was confused and uncertain himself, his voice was harsh. “Because it pleases me! I am returning you to England as soon as possible. I hope you will have progressed to a point that will pass muster with your family so that we can sail by late February—perhaps sooner if you are diligent. Mauer will be taking your measurements; I will be leaving within the week for New Orleans again. A new wardrobe will replace the one you supposedly lost when the ship, also mythical by the way, sunk—it was taking you and Mrs. Eggleston from the north, where you both had been living until I could arrange to escort you here.” Smiling thinly, he continued, “That’s when Mrs. Eggleston became ill. It was a harrowing experience and you were lucky to have escaped with your lives.”

  “Why,” Nicole asked in a numb voice, “were we living in the north?”

  “Oh, that. Did you know that when you ran away from Beddington’s Corner five years ago you went with Mrs. Eggleston?”

  Staring at him as if she thought he were insane, Nicole said faintly, “I ran away with Mrs. Eggleston?”

  “Yes. It was irresponsible of you, but Mrs. Eggleston sympathized with your plight—and she didn’t realize you had hidden yourself away on her coach until she had reached London.”

  Her eyes searched his face with something approaching hysteria. “You must be mad! No one would believe that tale—besides who is Mrs. Eggleston?” Her expression changed in an instant and she said in a tone of incredulity, “Mrs. Eggleston! Colonel Eggleston’s widow?”

  Christopher nodded. “The same. I met her by accident in New Orleans.”

  For a second he eyed Nicole with consideration. Then pulling her behind him, he walked over to the two chairs. Sitting down in one of them, he indicated that Nicole should take the other. She did so like one moving in a trance. “How do you know Mrs. Eggleston?” she finally asked. Frowning she added, “And what is she doing here?”

  Christopher hesitated. How much to tell Nick and how much to keep from her? He decided that the only thing that was vital to keep from her was Jason Savage’s visit and the real reason for their return to England. Let Nick think he’d had an attack of conscience and was willing to return her home. Cautiously he asked, “Haven’t you ever wondered exactly who I am or what I was doing in England five years ago?”

  “You came to hire seamen,” she said in a puzzled tone. “At least that’s what Sally said.”

  “Sally?”

  “Sally Bro
wn. Her sister Peggy worked at the inn. Peggy heard you asking around.”

  Christopher grinned. “So that’s how you knew I wanted seamen. I often wondered, but never thought of it overmuch.”

  “So?”

  Reluctantly Christopher admitted, “Nick, I’m Lord Saxon’s grandson. And from now on, you had best forget that Captain Saber ever existed and remember that my name is Christopher…not Saber.”

  Nicole gawked at him, literally struck dumb. Eventually she managed, “The Christopher that ran away?”

  His face falling into bitter lines, Saber nodded. “The same.”

  “Then of course you know Mrs. Eggleston,” she said with wonder. “You know everyone at Beddington’s Corner!”

  “Not quite,” he commented in a dry tone. “It has never been my pleasure to meet your guardians, the Markhams.”

  “Oh,” Nicole said blankly. There were dozens of questions that flew in a dozen different directions in her brain. Why was he a pirate? And why the devil did he now wish to return to England?

  A smile on his lips, Christopher mocked, “Is that all you have to say?”

  She sought for words. “Um, no, it’s just that it’s a shock to discover that you’re someone I’ve known about all my life—that our families were neighbors, good friends even.” Recovering herself, she guessed shrewdly, “Besides, you won’t tell me anything anyway.” Realizing the full significance of what he had revealed, her temper exploded and she exclaimed, “You’re a foul beast, Saber! How could you treat me as you have? I could understand it partially when you were just Captain Saber, but you were raised a gentleman. Your grandfather is a lord. I would have expected better of you.”