Lianne squeezed her hand. “I'm sure your Daniel is a wonderful man, but I'm quite content to be Philippe's wife.”
Dismay swept through Dera. She knew of Philippe's dalliances with women, of the quadroon woman he kept on the ramparts, and of the debts he incurred at the gaming halls. She couldn't imagine a happy union between Philippe and Lianne who was so gentle and loving, but also possessed of an independent streak which would drive Philippe to distraction. But she didn't tell her about these things. Instead she leaned over and kissed Lianne's cheek. “I hope you can say that in a few months, my dear.”
The wedding preparations depressed Amelie. She watched as the servants carried fresh flowers into the house and arranged them in vases until she thought she'd go mad with the smell of roses, jasmine and bright red holly which wreathed around the doorways, the stair railings. Christmas had passed with a sudden flurry of guests to Green Meadows, courtesy of Philippe. She realized he wished to show off his fiancée and give people the impression that Amelie and Dera approved of the match. Amelie knew Dera's feelings though she did her best to hide them with a polite smile on her face. But Amelie didn't bother.
She sat mutely in the parlor through all the holiday gatherings with a silent Claude who waited in the corner, while Lianne paraded around in the new silk and velvet gowns Philippe had ordered for her entrance into society as his fiancée.
She resented the way she had wormed her way into her brother's life and Dera's affections. Oh, why couldn't these two people care for her? Why must she share her brother's love with Lianne and relinquish any crumb of affection Dera had shown her to a woman whom she hadn't seen in years? None of it was fair.
Amelie could have shocked all of them by rising from the couch and dancing around the room. She hadn't told Dera or Philippe she could walk. Not even Lallie knew. Only Claude. Her eyes glanced furtively in his direction. She noticed he watched her with love, with a hunger of which only she was aware.
She flushed despite the slight chill in the air as she thought of the wondrous nights when he crept into her bed, inflaming her with a passion she hadn't known she possessed. She had met his hot kisses with her own and surrendered to his every variation in lovemaking.
Claude had taught her many things, things she'd never done with Daniel, and she wasn't the least bit frightened or repulsed as his lips and hands sought her most private places. With Claude, it seemed natural. She knew then that Daniel had never truly wanted her or loved her. Otherwise, he'd have pleased her in the same way. In fact she no longer cared if Daniel ever returned home. She had Claude, and she belonged to him. Yet she couldn't tell anyone she could walk. She feared that if Dera learned the truth and informed Daniel, he'd insist she leave Green Meadows. And she couldn't. Not now. Not when her brother was ready to take a wife. She'd have no place to go, and there would never be a way for her to take Claude with her, not without risking their love affair. She'd never give him up, just as she'd never relinquish her position as Daniel Flanders' wife.
Philippe had decided that the wedding should take place late in the afternoon on New Year's Day. Amelie grew restless as the servants dashed in and out of the drawing room, sweeping and dusting for the wedding that afternoon. Finally when she could stand it no longer, she motioned to Claude. “Take me for a ride in the buggy or I'll go insane.”
“It's rather chilly outside, Amelie.”
“I don't care! If I have to run out of here, I will. I can't stand hearing that French woman's delighted giggles or the child's crying, Claude. Now, take me outside!” she snapped, then was sorry to see the hurt on his face. “I'm sorry,” she said as he picked her up and grabbed her shawl in one motion.
His lips gently brushed against her cheek when the room was empty of the servants. “Tell everyone you can walk. I'll take you away, Amelie. We could be happy together.”
She loved him and wanted the same thing. But where could they live in peace? He was a mulatto slave, she the wife of a white planter. There was nothing to be done but pretend, and she couldn't admit how much she loved the pampered life to him, though she felt he had already guessed that. “Don't make it harder for me, darling.” She whispered in his ear. “Take me to our private spot before it's time to dress for the wedding. No one will miss us since Dera's too wrapped up in her goddaughter and your mother is pressing the wedding dress.”
Her slender hands unbuttoned the first button on his shirt, reaching in and massaging his chest with the flat of her palm. “I love to touch you,” she whispered.
Her touch started a fire deep in his loins. Within minutes he settled her in the buggy and had cantered to their secret place, a place he had found at the edge of the property which bordered on Belle Riviere and was covered by thick undergrowth and tall trees. He stopped the buggy behind a clump of foliage, sure that it was hidden from the view of the house and helped Amelie down. The moment she fell in his arms again, he kissed her, taking her breath.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He gazed into her eyes, a hazy blue at that moment and clouded with desire. They reminded him of the river on a warm, summer afternoon. He didn't know what he had done to deserve her love, her passion, but she belonged to him and he'd never give her up. Not even to her husband. She smiled a bewitching smile at him, and they entered the foliage which shielded them like a curtain.
With her shawl he made a cushion against the grass. She shimmied out of her gown, taunting him with her small, rounded breasts. She had on no undergarments and his desire increased as he realized that she must have planned this sojourn into the woods.
She reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers massaging and kneading the dusty brown flesh. Then her hand slid to the rope at his waist, and his pants fell to his feet. She bent to kiss the hairy expanse of navel and abdomen. Claude groaned as her tongue worked lower.
“Amelie, Amelie,” he moaned over and over as her mouth and hands showed him how much she loved him, wanted him. Then when he could stand no more, he bent and pushed her onto the shawl and pleasured her in the same intimate way.
Her whimpers of pleasure echoed through the still morning air. Her breasts trembled as she flexed upward at the deep sensations coursing through her lower body. She pulled his head away from her, unable to stand the intense pleasure, demanding more of him. When he snaked up her body to capture her lips, her legs wrapped around him.
“Do you want more,
chérie
?”
“All of you, Claude.”
He wanted her too, and when he entered her, he thought he'd die from the exquisite pleasure of it. She arched against him moaning and writhing. Her nails scratched the skin of his back and excited him to a fever pitch. Then his seed of life rushed into her and she cried his name in ecstatic moans which he muffled with his lips.
Amelie lay gasping, unable to believe anything could be so wonderful. The times she and Claude made love had been filled with passion, fulfillment, but she knew this time was different and would remember it for the rest of her life. Her fingertips stroked the hardness of his chest, and he smiled into her eyes.
“I love you, Amelie. Love you so much.”
“Even more than the kitchen wenches you've had? As I understand it from Bruno Haus, you're quite a man with the ladies, known for your prowess.”
His hand lightly brushed against her breast, an amused look coming to his eyes. “Are you jealous?”
“Not for the women you've had because evidently you were taught very well. But don't take another woman to your bed, Claude. I couldn't bear it.”
“I don't want anyone but you.” He grew serious. “What happens when your husband returns? Suppose Daniel demands his rights?”
Her tongue flicked across his lips for a second. “Daniel doesn't know I can walk, so he won't bother me. I'm yours, only yours.”
She kissed him deeply. Her hands massaged the hard muscles of his thighs, and he knew he'd take her again. And again. And he did. By the time he finished with her, Amelie was so exhausted that she dressed in a warm, sleepy afterglow. They rode back to the house then, and after he carried her to her bed, she kissed him, and fell asleep for a few hours of rest before the wedding.
Bruno Haus wasn't sleepy. He was wide awake and much aroused after silently witnessing the future mistress of Green Meadows writhing in ecstasy beneath a slave.
He knew he had had the power to intervene and whip the arrogant Claude to an inch of his life and perhaps even take Amelie for his own pleasure. But he didn't. The fact that she could walk was important and the way she made love to the slave might just give him power over her at a future date. He laughed. Claude wasn't the only one who wanted her, and he vowed Claude wasn't the only man she'd service with that hot body. In time, his own turn would come.
That knowledge didn't quench the fire in his loins. So, to ease it, he went to the fields where a lone slave girl worked. He knew that she feared him and wouldn't say a word to Mrs. Flanders, so he threw her down and hiked up her skirts, taking her in the middle of the field, but his desire was for Amelie.
Thaddeus Markham waited by the foot of the stairs as Lianne slowly descended the staircase. In an ivory gown made of the finest satin and strewn with tiny seed pearls she looked more beautiful than any woman Thaddeus had ever seen. Except for Dera. He smiled at Dera who stood a distance away and covered Lianne's outstretched hand with his.
“Thank you for giving me away,” Lianne said. “It is most kind of you.”
“I'm honored,” he whispered as strains of harp music drifted from the parlor. “I hope you and Philippe shall be happy.”
She nodded. A small smile curved upward on her mouth. She hoped for their happiness. For the last few years she had known only pain, except for her baby. Now, she had a chance for happiness and love with Philippe who would also be a father to Désirée. She felt Philippe was a logical choice for husband. He was wealthy and handsome. Though she suspected he led a wastrel life style, she determined to change him, and once she did, she felt she'd be truly happy. If only she could stop the memories of the night in the summerhouse and forget the handsome tormented man.
With a pat on her hand, Thaddeus walked her into the parlor. Amelie barely noticed her, her blue-eyed gaze on the figure of her brother. Philippe smiled broadly, his eyes only on Lianne. A few of Dera's neighbors and Philippe's cronies from the gaming hall he frequented clustered around the priest then drew into a circle as Lianne exchanged vows with Philippe.
When the ceremony ended, Philippe kissed her with gusto, surprising her and delighting his friends. Dera inched over to her and kissed her cheek. “I wish you every happiness, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Lianne told her but knew Dera didn't think she'd be happy with her bridegroom. A sense of foreboding filled her. She wished Dera could be pleased for her or at least pretend to be.
Maria brought Désirée to her. “The little one wants to kiss her mama before bedtime.”
Taking her child into her arms, Lianne cuddled her and kissed her plump cheek. Désirée looked like an angel in a hand-embroidered white gown Dera had sewn for her. “Mama shall see you soon,” she told the child and handed her to Maria. Philippe barely acknowledged the baby as he turned Lianne's face to his.
“Don't fret about the child,
chérie
. She is in good hands with Dera. After all, tonight, we spend our first night together at Belle Riviere. We don't need a child to spoil our wedding night.”
Her eyes clouded with tears, but she managed to smile brightly. “Just the two of us.”
Philippe guided her to Amelie who sat primly in an orchid gown on the couch. “I hope you wish us well,” he said to her and kissed the top of her head.
“Best wishes to you both,” she said stiffly.
“Ah, is that the best you can do on such a glorious day as this?”
“I've offered my congratulations. What more do you want?”
Philippe sighed. “Amelie, you're as tiresome as ever. Now, if you'll excuse us, I should like to toast my beautiful bride.” He grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray and raised it in the air. “To my wife. The woman whom I desire above anyone else.” At that moment he did desire Lianne who took his breath away with her beauty and completely forgot Chloe and his son.
Philippe's friends heard him and gathered round to offer their own toasts.
Dera observed Lianne who stood in the middle of the fracas with a smile on her face, but a sadness in her eyes. She wondered again at the foolhardiness of Lianne's marriage. Philippe wouldn't make her happy, but she reasoned that Lianne must deal with the implications sooner or later.
The sound of voices in the vestibule drew Dera's attention. John, the house servant, beamed and pointed in excitement to Dera.
“Look who's home, madam.”
Dera didn't believe her own eyes. Her son stood not ten feet from her with outstretched arms. The three years away had increased his handsomeness, the broadness of his shoulders. She ran into his embrace, too overcome to do anything but weep.