Celine (7 page)

She placed her hand on his arm. “I must find my place in the world, Justin. Staying here would merely continue my . . . my hibernation. I'd be hiding. Stagnating. Something deep within tells me the time to leave here has come.”

She squeezed his arm. “Please try to understand. Don't make things harder for me.”

He tucked his hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “I do understand, my dear. More than you probably realize. It's just that ... this selfish old man doesn't want to lose you. I have come to think of you as family. You've filled the gaping hole in my life that opened when I lost my eldest daughter to influenza.”

“I must leave.”

“I know.”

Tears glistened in both their eyes as, arm in arm, they made their way back through the garden.

Suddenly, her senses alerted her that someone watched them. She glanced up to the second-floor gallery. Trevor stood in the afternoon shadows, leaning against the wall in silent observation.

A chill ran through her. “Do you mind if we go inside?”

Justin gave her arm a pat. “Not at all. In fact, come to my office. There's something I'd like to discuss with you.”

They exchanged small talk as they made their way to his office. He retrieved a thick journal from the bookcase behind him and nodded to the leather chair in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”

The clock on a shelf ticked the silent moments by as Justin thumbed through the book. “Our company has a ship sailing for San Francisco from New Orleans in six weeks. Do an old man one last favor and take passage on it?” He smiled tenderly. “I'll see you to town myself when the time comes.”

Dear Lord, six long weeks?
“Of course,” Celine responded, wondering how in the world she would be able to put up with Trevor's advances. How the devil long were those two cousins planning to extend their stay at Carlton Oaks? She dared not ask. Not at the moment, anyway.

She thought of suggesting they leave for New Orleans at once, telling Justin she would like to spend a bit of time in the city where she'd grown up before leaving forever. But then, Trevor and Cameron would soon return there on business, and wouldn't they reside in the family townhouse? Which was where Justin would expect her to stay. Oh, dear, what a predicament.

Chapter Six

Despite the formidable gray skies that moved in before sunset, spirits ran high, for the family would soon travel upriver to attend the soirée at the Verrette plantation
.
Celine couldn't remember when she'd tasted such delicious excitement.

She sat at the dressing table fidgeting while Marie put the finishing touches on her hair. She tried for as much nonchalance as she could muster. “Tell me about the Widow Beaudrée.”

Marie grunted and spoke through the pins in her mouth. “Oh, that woman is something, I'll tell you.” Her gaze connected with Celine's through the mirror. Her pursed lips contained a sly smile. “That woman wasn't even half Mister Beaudrée's age.”

She wound the last section of hair, pinned the curl in place, and removing the pins from her mouth, patted the sides of Celine's head. “There now, let's see to your gown.”

Celine stepped over to the full-length cheval mirror and removed her robe.

“If you ask me,” Marie continued while she dressed Celine, “she was only after his money, because she doesn't seem too put out now there's no man around. No ma'am. Soon's poor Mister Beaudrée was in the ground, she started spendin' his money like the world wouldn't see another Sunday.”

“Is she attractive?”

“Well—” She drew out the word, savoring it like sweet chocolate on her tongue. “I suppose she's pretty enough. But she knows it, and that kills any hope the woman has of impressin' most people. Doesn't dress much like a widow, neither. Even the frock she wore to Mr. Beaudrée's funeral was cut so low you could spy her toes when she bent over. And believe me, she managed a lot of bendin' that day.”

Marie grinned wide through the mirror at Celine. And then she giggled.

Oh, dear. Celine wouldn't dare laugh along with Marie.

She simply couldn't.

She did.

“You were there?”

Marie was all teeth and sparkling eyes as she nodded. “Hold still, mam'selle. With all your fidgeting, I've had to do these corset laces three times. I know the truth of which I speak, because there was a crowd here followin' the funeral. Zola was fit to be tied having to prepare anything on behalf of that woman. Mrs. Beaudrée spent her entire stay crying in her hanky, with the men putting their arms around her and saying, ‘There, there. Don't be weepin' so.' And all the while they was gawkin' right down the front of her.” She winked. “Right to her toes.”

Celine laughed harder. “So, she's pretty enough, then.”

Marie carried Celine's gown over to her. “Oh, she's pretty, all right. Well shaped in the body, too. But she goes and ruins it by that look she always has about her.”

“What look?”

“Like she's just waitin' for someone to be givin' her a poke right 'tween her legs.”

Celine's jaw dropped. “Marie!” And then she guffawed at the maid's frankness.

“She is nowhere near as lovely as you, though, mam'selle.” Marie patted a bow on the gown's puffed sleeve, a gesture indicating the toilette was complete.

“There you go.
Ravissante.
”

“Thank you for the kind compliment, Marie, but I hardly think I am ravishing.”

“
Mais oui
. Look in the mirror.”

Celine made a pirouette in front of the looking glass. She stepped closer and paused to study the deep turquoise moiré silk gown with a bateau neckline cut so low she wondered if
she
dared bend over lest someone see
her
toes. The bodice fit tightly down to her hips, accenting every curve before billowing out to the floor. A string of pearls snaked through the shining curls piled atop her head. “Oh, the gown is beautiful, isn't it?”

Lindsey's knock sounded at the door. He flushed when the door opened and he spied Celine. “You are . . . well, you are breathtaking.”

She slipped her hand over his elbow and bid Marie a good evening.

Cameron called out from below when the two descended the stairs. “And I am supposed to escort my cousin while little Lindsey gets you? Unfair, I say.”

She met him at the bottom and held her gloved hand to him for his perfunctory kiss.

“At least may I have the honor of riding in the same carriage, madame?”

“Of course,” Celine laughed softly. “Whatever did I do for entertainment before I met you?”

Trevor's gaze burned into her as he joined them. “You're lovely, Celine. Your dress matches your eyes.”

Cameron shot a curious glance at Celine's turquoise gown and then to her eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow at Trevor, but made no comment.

Two covered carriages stood at the ready in front of the manse. Justin assisted Felicité and Celine into the first carriage and then went about seeing to the other.

Felicité began to chatter. Celine leaned over and whispered, “Remember, well-bred ladies do not talk over much.” Justin often referred to his daughter as sixteen, going on twelve, and Celine worried he might be right at times.

Trevor slid gracefully into the seat next to Celine, his movements as sleek as a cat's.

She grew instantly light-headed. “Isn't Lindsey supposed to ride in this carriage?”

Trevor shifted to the corner in order to fit his wide expanse of shoulder next to Celine. “Lindsey wanted his papa.” He slid his arm along the back of the seat behind her, his fingers brushing her bare flesh ever so slightly as he took in every detail of her.

Despite the heat of his body, shivers ran down her arm.

Cameron vaulted into the carriage next to Felicité and regarded Trevor. “
Mon Dieu,
how much did you have to pay your little brother, old boy?”

Celine sensed a sting to Cameron's taunting words. He smiled, but his eyes were cold.

The ominous sky caused Celine to shudder. She pulled her cape around her.

Felicité leaned over and touched Celine's knee, her brows knit together.

Celine shook her head to the girl.

“Chilled?” Trevor asked.

“I'm fine, thank you.” She prayed they would arrive soon. The air felt heavy inside the carriage, and she thought she heard a rumble of thunder.

They rode the distance in silence. Every jostle of the carriage pressed Trevor's hard, sinewy thigh to hers, burning through the layers of clothing. Her cheeks prickled with heat. He could be Satan himself tonight. He was dressed entirely in black, except for his white shirt and white silk stock. His raven hair and midnight eyes made him appear almost sinister, albeit exceedingly handsome. And there seemed to be an even greater intensity about him this evening than usual.

She thought of his sensuous mouth.

Her loins quickened.

Once again, chaos reigned in her mind.

At last they arrived, and soon, Celine found herself standing inside the entrance between Cameron and Trevor. The others stood behind them, waiting to be announced.

All attention in the room was riveted on Celine as Trevor removed her cape and handed it to a footman. The buzz of conversation increased. She stood, regal and proud, while she was announced—as her grandmother had taught her. Hopefully, no one would guess how violently her insides churned.

“Hold on, Celine,” Cameron said through a clenched jaw. “Here comes the Widow Beaudrée with her claws out, and she's headed straight for you.”

Giselle Beaudrée smiled through even, white teeth. “Cameron, Trevor, how nice to see you. And you must be Mrs. Kirkland. I've heard so much about you. We really must take tea, my dear. We widows have to stick together, you know.”

Giselle's condescending manner did little to hide her obvious jealousy. Her cold blue eyes boldly pierced Celine like two ice picks.

The woman was more beautiful than Celine had anticipated with her ivory skin and pale yellow hair. She was dressed in a low-cut black gown that revealed every line and curve of her body. Her ample breasts lay practically bare.

Celine's breath suddenly felt shorter when she saw Trevor's quick appraisal of Giselle. Oooh, that damnable lazy smile of his. She willed herself to remain calm, aloof, while a subtle grin settled around her mouth. Marie was right. The widow did look as though she was just
waitin' to get poked.

Uncertainty seemed to wash over Giselle Beaudrée at Celine's regard of her. Her brows drew together slightly, and she backed away a step. Suddenly, she faced Celine again with fury in her eyes and a red blotch on each cheek.

Trevor left Celine's side and stepped between the two women. Giselle slid her arm through the crook of Trevor's elbow and raised her nose in the air. “See me to the refreshment table, will you, dear?”

The woman brazenly hung on Trevor's arm the entire evening while a long line of potential
beaux
and curious married gentlemen kept Celine occupied on the dance floor. Cameron and Lindsey simply got back in line after each turn and jockeyed for their fair share of her attention.

Michel and Felicité were lost in their own fantasies and spared little time for their family. Celine would have enjoyed herself immensely but for her constant vexation whenever Trevor and Giselle danced by. He seemed oblivious to Celine's very presence.

Why should she care? Those two deserved one another. A rutting bull and a cow in heat. Nonetheless, as the night wore on, Celine felt drained.

Justin, who kept constant vigil over her, must have sensed her fatigue, for he finally cut in on one of her smitten partners. He escorted her to the terrace for a breath of fresh air.

“Thank heavens for my knight in shining armor.” She grimaced when she noticed black clouds hanging low and threatening in the sky.

Justin made note as well. “Stay here while I round up the others. It's nearing midnight anyway, and I've no desire to get caught in a cloudburst.”

He knew she still had a great fear of storms, and although she did not want to be responsible for their early departure, relief flooded her. She looked for the moon, and, not finding it, wrapped her arms about herself, feeling very alone.

A hand slid gently around her waist. She shivered. Trevor's hot breath fell against her ear. This time she grew angry. How dare he try his seductions after spending the entire evening with that ... that bovine? She steeled herself against any reaction. “Don't touch me.”

“You don't really mean that, do you, Celine?”

“Indeed, I do.” She brushed his hand off her.

“You speak as though your tongue dripped ice water.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to face him. “Look at me,
ma petite.
”

“I do believe you've had too much to drink.” She attempted to push him away, but he may as well have been a wall. “And you do not have permission to refer to me so intimately.”

His mouth crushed down on hers. The heady scent of brandy filled her nostrils. She gave a strangled cry and struggled for release. But the more she writhed, the tighter he held her, until she was sure he would rob the very breath from her lungs.

She ceased fighting him.

His tongue deftly parted her lips and probed the soft recesses of her trembling mouth. Each hot thrust felt as though he were deep inside her, touching from within. Primal desire shot through her, jagged and hot.

God, what was he doing to her? How could she be reacting this way? His hand slipped down to the small of her back, and tilted her pelvis forward. She gasped as he leaned his hard shaft against her in the same manner as he'd done in the cookhouse. He pulled his mouth from hers and looked through the shadows, searching her face.

“Leave me alone, Trevor. I do not want you.”

His breathing came in short, ragged pulls. “You want me as much as I want you, Celine.”

“Do you think every woman wants you? Well, I don't.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes, you do. Why don't you admit it? Life's too short to play little virginal games, and that's something you and I both know you are not.”

Raw emotion shot through her, sharpening her tongue to a knife's edge. “If it is illicit pleasure you seek, you've had the perfect partner on your arm all evening. Go to her for your dirty little games.”

He pivoted on his heel and left her, but after a few steps, he paused. “You little fool. I spent the entire evening keeping jealous Giselle Beaudrée from sinking her vicious claws into you.” He disappeared.

Justin found Celine again and moments later the Andrews family departed under the blanket of an impending storm. She tried to jockey the seating around to make sure she rode next to Lindsey, but this time Justin intervened.

He scowled at the sky. “Celine, I want you in the carriage next to me. Trevor, you and Felicité ride with us. The rest of you take the other carriage.”

 

 

Trevor frowned at the concerned mantle his father wore as the carriages rolled into the night.

A rumble in the distance brought huge drops of rain down on the coach. The wind kicked up and howled like a great wolf.

Celine stiffened.

Justin slipped his arm around her. “Everything's under control.”

A bolt of lightning lit the sky followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder.

Celine whimpered.

Justin pulled her closer.

Lightning lit the night again and the horses whinnied and shied. The carriage swayed sideways. Celine's horrifying shriek reverberated through the night.

Trevor leaned forward, puzzled, but his father didn't see him, so intent was he on trying to calm a cowering Celine.