Emerald Ecstasy (15 page)

Allowing Philippe to lead her upstairs to the bedroom, she barely realized she shook.

“Lianne, there is no need for fear,” Philippe told her when they arrived at the door. “After all, you're not a virgin bride,
chérie.”
He nibbled her ear as they entered the room. “You were a widow for some time. Your body must be as hot for fulfillment as mine.”

She found the bedsheets were neatly pulled back. Candles flickered on the dressing table, and the sweet smell of night jasmine drifted through the open windows. Fresh fruit and wine waited on a sideboard in case they grew hungry during the night. Everything a bride could desire had been provided. Even her nightdress had been laid out for her earlier by a servant when her trunks had been brought to Belle Riviere before the ceremony.

Absently she fingered the thin material. The gown, like the rest of her trousseau, had been paid for by Philippe. “It's very beautiful,” she said softly.

“Not as lovely as you, Lianne.” He took her hands in his. Desire shone in his eyes.

“Forget the gown.” He dropped her hands and pulled the buttons through the loops of Lianne's wedding dress. When the dress slid to the floor, he exclaimed, “Lianne, you're a goddess!”

He released the pins which held her hair. The thick amber tresses fell across her shoulders and reached to her waist, captivating him with their perfume.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, where she lay waiting for him while he undressed. When he returned he removed the chemise with a hint of impatience. Once his body met the soft peaks of her breasts, he couldn't restrain himself. He needed her pulsing softness to surround him.

Lianne cried out when Philippe entered her. She expected he would take his time with her, to coax her into submission. He was right when he said she should want fulfillment, but he wasn't the man she wanted. Tears burned her eyes while Philippe grunted and found his own pleasure without any thought for hers. André had always been gentle with her, and Daniel had introduced her to sexual ecstasy and to the ultimate pleasure a woman could experience in a man's arms.

She felt nothing now but distaste and a desire to have the act over as quickly as possible.

His voice echoed in her ears. “Lianne, hold me tight!” When she did, he groaned and grew quiet. It seemed years passed before he lifted his head from her breasts.
“Magnifique, chérie.”
He rolled away from her and pulled the blanket over their naked bodies. She lay there, waiting for him to hold her, to touch her so she might find her own ecstasy. But all she heard were Philippe's snores.

A tear trickled down her cheek. So, she thought, this is how it shall be.

Lianne got up and pulled on the nightgown. She went to the window and drew the curtains aside. The night was dark—not a star glittered in the heavens and she felt just as black because the happiness she'd hoped for would never exist in her marriage to Philippe. She knew that now. He had no idea how to give love, only how to take it.

On the lawn below her, she noticed a tiny bright speck which seemed to hover in the air. Her eyes fastened on it and watched as it grew brighter then disappeared. A firefly, she thought. Turning away from the window, she climbed into the bed beside Philippe.

Daniel threw down his cheroot in disgust. What was wrong with him? He waited like a lovesick fool on the lawn of Belle Riviere, eyes fastened on the upper windows. What did he hope would happen? His secret hope that Lianne would rush from the bridal chamber into his waiting arms dimmed with each passing minute.

He realized that she wouldn't leave Philippe's bed but had firmly ensconced herself as mistress of Belle Riviere. He felt like an idiot. To forget Lianne he had gone to Amelie, only to realize that he didn't want her. He didn't love Amelie, though he wished to set things right between them, to care for her as was her due as his wife. He could only blame his visit to Amelie's bedroom as temporary insanity because of Lianne.

Lianne. In his mind he saw her body entwined with Philippe's and he felt such intense anguish that he turned his horse in the direction of home and rode hard across the dark fields. Dismounting he slowly made his way up the steps but stopped. A slight movement from the dark shadows of the porch drew his attention.

“Come out, or I'll shoot you down,” he growled and reached for his pistol.

“Please, no, Herr Flanders.” Bruno Haus withdrew from his hiding place behind a stone column beneath Amelie's window. “It's just me.”

Daniel eyed him suspiciously, barely able to see the man in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

“I had trouble sleeping. Just taking a walk around the place, making sure all is secure.”

Daniel couldn't argue with that. Security was part of the overseer's job. “Why were you hiding?”

“I didn't know it was you, sir. Thought it might be a stranger.”

That made sense to Daniel, so he didn't question Haus further and went inside the house.

Though the upstairs hallway was in darkness, light spilled from an open doorway. Sounds of a baby's fussy crying drifted through the quiet house. Looking into the room, Daniel saw a dark-haired, heavyset woman rocking a child. Standing beside the rocker was his mother, dressed in her gown and robe.

“What do you think is wrong with her?” his mother asked the woman.

“I think the niña misses her mama.”

“May I hold her?” Dera inquired and smiled when Maria handed the baby to her.

Dera held the little girl against her shoulder and patted her tiny back. “It's been so long since I've cared for a little one.”

“Désirée is a good baby.”

“Yes. A special baby.”

Daniel watched from the doorway while his mother crooned an Irish lullaby to the child, a tune he had heard many times as a boy. Dera tenderly stroked the baby's dark head. Whose child was she? he wondered.

When Dera had laid the sleeping baby in her crib and closed the door, Daniel met her in the hallway.

“You scared the life out of me!” Dera scolded when she bumped into him.

“Whose baby is that?” he asked without preliminaries.

“Why, Lianne's.”

“I didn't know she had a child. Her husband died.” Victor Dubois had mentioned nothing about a baby.

Dera turned her back and walked to her room. “Désirée was born after his death.” Following her, he sat on a chair as she climbed into bed. “I don't understand,” Daniel said and ruffled his hair. “She can't be André's child. If she is then that means Lianne was already pregnant when…”

“Yes?”

“Mother, when did Lianne say André died?”

“She never has mentioned it.”

He left the room without a goodnight and headed downstairs to the parlor. He poured a hefty glass of brandy and swallowed it down. Refilling the glass, he sat on the couch and gazed at the last glowing remnants in the fireplace.

Why hadn't Lianne mentioned the baby to him? Had she forgotten her own child in the flurry of the wedding and his shocking entrance into her life again? If André had died before the baby's birth, then she must have been pregnant when he made love to her in the summerhouse. How long before that night had André died?

Questions revolved around his head like carriage wheels. He didn't know why he should care when André died. Apparently the baby wasn't his own; Lianne would have told him. Wouldn't she? But he realized he knew very little about her. He possessed some facts about her life, but he didn't know her as a person, just as a beautiful, bewitching body. And now it seemed he'd never know her. She belonged to Philippe. Yet a large question still nagged at him. Was he the father of Lianne's baby?

“No, no!” Lianne called and twisted in her sleep. The evil black eyes impaled her, his hands caressed her flesh. She must escape him, must find Daniel. No matter how much she screamed or tried to yank free, de Lovis held her.

“I'll never let you go,
querida
. Never!”

His mouth came down viciously against hers and she felt herself fighting for air.

“Lianne, wake up!”

Philippe's voice dispersed the image of de Lovis but not the fear. She came awake quickly and sat up.

“Whatever is the matter?” Philippe queried. “Were you dreaming?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “A horrible nightmare.”

“Come here.” Philippe drew her naked body into his arms, and she willingly went. His touch which had so disgusted her earlier, she now welcomed. She lay trembling, so overcome by fear that she clung to him.

His voice soothed her a bit. “You're safe,
chérie.”

But was she? During the months since she killed de Lovis, she had begun to imagine she was truly safe, that no one would find her. Now, she felt such intense fear that she imagined de Lovis would harm her, that he'd reach from the grave and grasp her away from life. Away from Daniel.

She buried her face against Philippe's chest. She mustn't think about Daniel. Daniel wasn't her husband.

Philippe lifted her face and kissed her lips softly. This was the first sign of true gentleness he had shown her since the wedding. “No one shall hurt you, Lianne. I will protect you.”

“Philippe!” Her voice gasped his name in a mixture of tenderness for him and denied desire for Daniel. She needed him, needed to feel loved and safe. Somehow she must stop the frightening dreams and cling to the life she had made. No matter how disappointing she found it. She must forget Daniel.

Her hands moved slowly but steadily across Philippe's body until she had aroused him to such a degree that she positioned herself atop him, taking him into her. Her wanton movements excited him, and because she imagined her lover was Daniel, she found the ecstasy she sought.

Lianne and Philippe confined themselves to their bedroom for a week before Lianne decided she had had enough of solitude and lovemaking.

“What are you doing?” Philippe asked her one morning. He watched in shock as she slipped into a lime green riding outfit.

She shot him a vixenish smile. “Going riding, of course. Care to come?”

“Lianne, what will people think to see you out and about? We've been married only a week.”

“I don't care what anyone thinks,” she said and surveyed herself in the mirror. “Being cooped up in here is worse than a prison sentence.”

“I didn't know my company was so offensive.”

Philippe sounded hurt. Lianne turned and walked to the bed and sat beside him. “That's not what I meant, and you know it. I need fresh air, to feel the wind upon my face. Don't be upset with me.” She bent over and placed a light kiss on his lips.

His arms encircled her waist. “Wait awhile,
chérie.”

She grew immediately aware of his amorous intentions, and she didn't want to make love again. Philippe's appetite for lovemaking was insatiable, and she was tired of always pretending to feel something. But she lowered her eyes in a way which he mistook for coyness because she didn't want him to see her loathing. The thought entered her mind that if Daniel was her husband, she'd never have wished to leave his arms.

“You inflame my senses,” he whispered into her ear.

She flashed him a smile which promised more than she intended. “Let me ride first, Philippe. You've completely worn me out.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and released her. “Ah, you're right. In fact I'm still rather sleepy. Go for your ride,
chérie,
but when you return, I shall have mine.” He winked and she decided she wouldn't return too soon.

Lianne was in such a rush that she forgot to pin up her hair. She wouldn't go back into the room once she had departed, because Philippe might wish to appease his appetite sooner.

At the stables, a groom saddled a horse for her and she broke into a brisk gallop and headed for the open fields. The morning was fresh and crisp. The January breeze blew her hair about her face and caressed her cheeks until they glowed a soft pink. Her confinement had depressed her spirit, but now it soared higher than the trees.

Unaware of where she headed, she was startled when she saw the white columns of Green Meadows in the distance. She slowed the horse. She guessed when Philippe learned she'd visited Dera, he'd be angry. Probably he'd feel everyone would think he wasn't good in bed if she showed up only one week after their wedding. Philippe had his pride. But she wanted to see her daughter and Dera. Yet it was seeing Daniel again which propelled her onward. Despite the awful scene at their last meeting, she ached to see his face again.

Dera, indeed, was pleased to see her. She didn't even look askance when Lianne appeared at her door. However, Amelie's brows lifted quite noticeably.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when Lianne was admitted into the parlor.