Creole Fires (12 page)

The butler, a tall black man named Frederick who was always cheerful, accepted his white flat-brimmed hat with little more than a nod. Hanging it on the gilded rack beside the door, he quietly walked away.

Danielle scurried past with her eyes cast down and not so much as a smile.

Lemuel, his aging valet, greeted him briefly at the foot of the stairs but seemed unusually concerned
with a scuff on the toe of one shiny black shoe. When Alex dismissed him, he merely shuffled away.

“Mrs. Leander!” Alex shouted, bringing the buxom woman on the run. “What the hell’s going on around here?”

“Well …”

“If something’s happened, why wasn’t I notified? It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where I was.”

“That’s just it, sir. Nothing’s happened.”

“If nothing’s happened, why is everyone looking so glum?”

Mrs. Leander wrung her hands, a gesture of worry Alex had rarely seen. “It’s the little miss, sir. She’s been in her room for nigh on three days.”

“She’s what?”

“At first we did as you asked. I mean, we took her nothin’ but bread and water. By yesterday she looked so pitiful, I … well, I took her up a tray of supper.” Mrs. Leander squared her shoulders as if she dared him to disapprove.

“Go on.”

“She wouldn’t eat it. Says it’s a matter of honor, sir. Says you bein’ a man of honor yourself, you ought to understand.”

Alex swore a string of oaths beneath his breath, then took the stairs up to Nicki’s third-floor room two at a time. He knocked only briefly before he opened the door to find her propped in the window seat, reading a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. It surprised him she should be so well educated, though it probably shouldn’t have.

“M’sieur du Villier,” she said, “how good of you to drop by.”

“You look terrible.” Alex strode toward her. Though her eyes still shone with their incredible aqua lights, her skin looked waxy, and she’d definitely lost some weight. Alex felt rotten. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, had been sure she’d give in just as soon as she knew he was gone.

“You’ve got to start eating,” he said with careful control, fighting an urge to comfort her. He wished he could say he was sorry.

“Is that an order?”

“Merde.
You damned well better believe it’s an order.” Picking up the tray of untouched food Mrs. Leander had left the night before, he carried it over to the bed. From beneath the white linen cloth, he tore off a chunk of bread and spread a slab of soft yellow cheese across it.

“Eat this,” he commanded.

Nicki felt her throat begin to close. “Anything but bread,” she said softly.

Alex felt another stab of guilt. “How about this?” He handed her an apple.

Nicki smiled and nodded. Accepting the bright red fruit, she bit down hard, savoring the sweet juices. Alex went to the door and called for Danielle to bring up a breakfast tray.

“You’re a stubborn bit of baggage,” he said, returning to her side.

“I knew you’d understand,” Nicki told him, “sooner or later. There are some things a person just can’t compromise.”

Alex’s smile faded. “That’s where you’re wrong—there are times a person
must
compromise.”

Nicki looked up at him but didn’t speak.

“I want you to eat a good solid meal. Afterward, there’ll be a carriage waiting to take you to Elmtree.”

Nicki set the apple aside, unable to swallow the bite that had suddenly lodged in her throat. Alex hadn’t understood at all; he had merely changed tactics. “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

Alex said something she didn’t quite catch, then his expression changed to one of appeal. “Not even for me?” With a soft half smile, he ran a finger along her cheek.

His words, and the rush of warmth that raced down her spine, were almost her undoing. Almost, but not quite. She was a St. Claire. She’d been protecting a friend and giving just deserts to a woman long overdue. And Clarissa Endicott had slandered her parents. She wouldn’t back down no matter the price.

She shook her head. “Not even for you.”

Alex’s features turned hard. “I’ve given my word. You’ll apologize just as I’ve instructed or—”

“Or?”

“Or tomorrow I shall sell you to Valcour Fortier.”

Nicki felt as if the world had stopped spinning, and she had careened off the edge. “You wouldn’t do that.”

He looked at her hard. “I’m afraid I would.”

She didn’t believe him, couldn’t believe him—and yet …. She had trusted and been hurt too many times to rely on her instincts. She couldn’t afford to take the chance. Tears filled her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I shall do as you wish,” she said softly. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she wiped it away with
the back of her hand. Moving past Alex as if he weren’t there, she ignored Danielle, with her heavily laden breakfast tray, ignored the smell of porridge and bacon that made her stomach rumble mercilessly, and walked to the stairs.

Though Alex had hoped she’d eat something first, he didn’t stop her. Instead he ordered a carriage brought around, and in minutes, Ukiah, who had returned to Belle Chêne from the town house, had the horses whipped up and rolling down the hot, dusty lane out of sight.

As he watched them disappear along the River Road beneath the hot summer sun, Alex pondered his decision. Maybe he should have told her the truth—that it appeared more likely each day that the very survival of Belle Chêne depended on this marriage. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to accept the financial proposition that Clarissa had laid out, but the new equipment was taking longer than expected to install, and the exceptionally dry summer weather had hindered the crops. Maybe if Nicki understood …

Nom de Dieu
, what in God’s name was the matter with him? He didn’t have to answer to a servant! The girl was a handful. More than a handful. He’d be glad to see her go. Maybe the school she’d be attending would get rid of her stubborness and teach her to be submissive. He pictured her that way, meek and pliable, and didn’t like the image.

You had no choice
, he reminded himself. But he’d never forget her look of disillusionment, the betrayal she’d felt when he’d threatened to sell her to Fortier. He hadn’t meant it, of course, but he’d run out of options.

At least the matter was ended. In an hour Nicki would be home and their argument eventually forgotten.

Only, Nicki didn’t come home.

Alex spent the day in the fields, returning just before dusk. He was hot and tired and brooding. All he’d thought about was Nicki and the way she had stood up to him. He was proud of her, he realized, regretting more than ever that he hadn’t just told her the truth.

Then again, maybe the truth wouldn’t have swayed her. Belle Chêne was his home. It meant everything to him and the sons he would one day entrust it to. Why should a young girl understand how important it was to him? Why should she bend to his wishes? Yet instinctively he knew if he had made his reasons clear she would have.

“Where is she?” he asked the moment he arrived at the house, barreling through the front door so hard the crystal beads on the chandelier did a dance above his head.

Mrs. Leander looked concerned but resigned. “She isn’t back yet. Neither is the carriage.”

“What?”

“Don’t get all fired up. You know Miss Clarissa.
She probably set the girl some task as a punishment for her behavior. I doubt it’ll do her much harm.”

It sounded so like Clarissa that Alex knew the housekeeper was right.
“Nom de Dieu
, that woman will be the death of me yet.” He moved toward his study, thinking to pour himself a drink, Mrs. Leander trailing behind. “I should have gone with her.” He lifted the crystal stopper from a decanter of brandy and poured himself a liberal dose. “If she isn’t back before dark, I’m going after her.” He downed the brandy in a single swallow.

Mrs. Leander nodded her understanding. “I’ll let you know the minute I spot the carriage.”

Nicole wearily opened the door of the stylish black phaeton that Ukiah had driven around to the service entrance. Before her foot touched the first rung, he was there to help her down. A worried frown lined his face, but his grip felt steady and strong.

She thanked God for it—it was all she could do to stand up. Her clothes were soaked with perspiration and clinging to her body. Her stomach had stopped grumbling and started to roll uneasily. Strands of her hair had come loose and were plastered to the back of her neck. The strips that bound her breasts, soaked clear through, had chaffed her skin red and raw.

“Mista Alex ain’t goin’ like dis, no sir.”

“I don’t want him to know.” Nicki fought her trembling hands and the pain that throbbed unbearably every time she moved them. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Ukiah looked away.

“Promise me.”

“If dat’s what you want, I won’t say nothin’. But dat don’ mean I think it’s right.”

“Thank you, Ukiah.”

The black man helped her into the warming pantry, which, thank the Lord, was empty, and she headed toward the servants’ stairs at the back of the room. The door that led to the main part of the house flew open, stopping her on the second stair.

For a moment Alex just stood there, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “What in God’s name has happened to you?” He strode across the room, his long legs carrying him to her side in the time it took to reply.

“Please, m’sieur, I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.” She wet her parched lips. “If you wouldn’t mind, could we continue this conversation a little later?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, m’sieur. Please, I must go ….”

Alex caught her just as her knees buckled beneath her. Swearing in both French and English, he scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs. “Mrs. Leander!” he bellowed.

Nicki wrapped her arms around his thick neck and clung to him. It was hard not to remember the time he had held her this way before.

“I’ll ruin your clothes,” she said softly as he reached the landing, worried about her soggy garments.

“To hell with my clothes.”

When he turned down the hall instead of heading up the third-floor stairs, she looked at him oddly. “Where are you taking me?”

“I want the doctor to have a look at you. I want you properly taken care of.”

“No!” Nicki shrieked.

Alex ignored her. Using a booted foot, he shoved open the chamber door and headed for the high, carved four-poster bed with its satin-and-lace counterpane. Mrs. Leander rushed in just in time to pull back the mosquito netting and turn back the covers.

“Please,” Nicki whispered. “I’m all right now, really I am.”

“Have a bath brought up,” Alex commanded the housekeeper, “and bring her fresh clothing.” Mrs. Leander left to do his bidding.

“Tell me what happened,” Alex said.

“It’s over and done with. Can’t we just leave it alone?”

“What did Clarissa do to you?” Alex repeated as if she hadn’t spoken.

Though she wished he would let things be, she couldn’t help enjoying his concern. She smiled up at him as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, his heavy weight making the wooden slats creak beneath the deep feather mattress. It was then that he noticed her hands.

“Good God! How the hell …?” They were red and swollen, both back and front. Huge, clear blisters had already begun to fill with water.

Alex tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me.”

As usual, he left her little choice. “Clarissa was furious. So mad she could hardly speak. Even my apology didn’t help—she said it was insincere.” Nicki fought a smile. “Actually, it was.”

“Go on.”

“She said an apology wasn’t enough. That I hadn’t learned my lesson. She had one of the servants bring her a ruler.” She winced as Alex cradled her small hands in his large ones to examine them more closely. “I could have stopped her sooner,” Nicki admitted, “if I’d been a little less stubborn.”

Alex’s expression turned murderous. “Then what happened?”

“When she finished, she had me locked in the tool shed.”

Alex’s stomach rolled. If the temperature outside was unbearable, the heat in that shed must have been stifling.

“I wouldn’t have minded so much, except for the bugs and the spiders.” Nicki shuddered involuntarily, and Alex’s throat went dry.

“I hope that’s all, because if I hear one more word, I just may murder Clarissa.” When Nicki didn’t answer, just stared at him as though she believed he might, Alex came to his feet.

“I never meant for this to happen,
ma petite.
I said you’d be safe at Belle Chêne, but you weren’t.” Wishing there was something more he could do, he reached down and swept back a damp strand of silky copper hair. “I still want the doctor to see you.”

Mrs. Leander’s arrival with the servants carrying water for her bath interrupted Nicole’s refusal.

“I want you to eat something and get some sleep,” Alex gently instructed. “I’ll take care of Clarissa.”

“Please, Alex,” she said, forgetting not to use his given name. “I don’t want any more trouble.”

“This is my house—not Clarissa’s. You belong to Belle Chêne. That makes you my responsibility, not
hers. I won’t stand for her interference—not one moment more.” With that, he stalked out of the room.