Creole Fires (31 page)

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

“God forgive me, but I’ve missed you too.”

Sliding down her body, he unfastened the silken bindings around her ankles, came up beside her, and pulled her into his arms. It wasn’t until he kissed her cheek that he realized she was crying.

“Tell me what’s wrong,
ma chère.”
He tightened his hold on her waist.

She shook her head and glanced away.

“Please.”

Nicki swallowed against the hard lump closing her throat. “It’s just that now I know I fight not only you but myself as well.”

Alex swore softly. Drawing shiny strands of copper hair away from her face, he brushed his lips across her cheek. “It’s time this foolishness ended. You belong here with me. Surely you can see that. We desire each other, and this way I’ll be able to take care of you.”

Nicki turned on her side to face him. “I know you think what you’re doing is best. For someone else, maybe it would be.”

“But not for you,” he finished dryly.

“No. Not for me.” She laid her palm against his cheek. “That I desire you, you have proven without a doubt. That I care for you, I will freely admit. But I am a St. Claire. My family helped settle this country. You knew my father. You know how proud he was. He would never have acted dishonorably.” Nicki’s aqua eyes searched his face. “I’m his daughter, Alex. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t hold dear that same sense of right and wrong.”

“Isn’t your happiness—our happiness—worth more than some vague notion of honor?”

She looked at him as if she couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “There is no such thing as happiness without honor.”

Alex didn’t answer, just pulled her back into the circle of his arms. “There must be some way,” he said softly, kissing away her tears. But he knew in his heart there was none.

Alex rapped loudly on the door to 121 Royale Street. Around him well-dressed gentlemen, their ladies beside them, laughed and talked as they strolled the bustling street. Carriages and hansom cabs rolled past, carrying everyone from Irish laborers to aristocrats, beautiful octoroon women to sailors on leave.

Alex barely noticed them. At his second sharp rap, Thomas Demming’s assistant, Jackson Turner, pulled open the heavy wooden door.

“Is Thomas in?” Alex asked.

“Yes, he is, Mr. du Villier.” Jackson was a thickset man no more than thirty, but already losing his hair. “I’ll tell him you’re here.” He disappeared down a narrow, dimly lit hallway lined with books and returned a few minutes later with Thomas.

“It’s good to see you, Alex,” Thomas said. The two men shook hands, and Thomas led the way back to his office, a wood-paneled room hung with framed diplomas and a painting of a full-rigged ship, her sails puffed out with storm. Thomas pointed toward one of the tufted leather seats in front of his wide oak desk, and Alex sank down heavily.

Thomas assessed his taut features, the eyes that looked hooded and dim. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“If only it were.” Alex released a weary breath and raked a hand through his wavy dark-brown hair. “I’ve come today, Thomas, to speak to you as the friend you’ve always been to me, but also as one man to another.”

Alex’s voice held a note of formality Thomas didn’t like. “Go on.”

“It’s about Nicole.”

Thomas’s head snapped up in alarm. “Has something happened to her?”

Alex waved away his concern. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Alex looked uncertain, as Thomas had rarely seen him. It seemed part of him wanted one thing, while another part wanted something altogether different.

“It’s just that … Thomas, I need to know how you feel about her. You haven’t had much chance to spend time with her, but still ….” He glanced away, his eyes coming to rest on the wind-tossed ship in the painting over Thomas’s shoulder. He looked as if he were battling some inner storm of his own. “You know the two of us have been … together. There’s no point in denying it. But I thought, if you cared enough, maybe that wouldn’t make any difference.”

Thomas felt stunned. “Are you trying to get rid of her?”
Good God, Alex had only just taken the girl to his bed!
“Are you asking me if I’m interested in taking Nicki as my mistress?”

“No!” Alex roared, coming to his feet.
“Nom de Dieu
, that’s the last thing I want.”

“Then what is it you’re asking?”

“I watched you two at supper and then again at the soiree. I saw the way you looked at her. I’m asking if your interest in her includes marriage.”

“Marriage?” Thomas’s mouth gaped open.

Alex stiffened. “Is that so farfetched? I know her past is a bit uncertain, but I can assure you she came to me virgin. She’s the most warm-hearted woman I’ve ever known. She’s kind and caring. And honest to a fault. You’d never have a moment’s regret.”

“You misunderstand, my friend,” Thomas said softly, beginning to understand the problem. Alex concern for Nicki showed in every line of his face, the way his shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of his distress.

Alex sat back down. His chest felt leaden, his mouth had gone dry, and his stomach was balled in a hard, tight knot. “Then your intentions toward her are honorable?”

“Alex, I have no intentions toward Nicole. Not since the first time I invited her out and you staunchly squelched the notion.”

Alex glanced guiltily away.

“Nicki’s a beautiful young woman, one of the loveliest I’ve seen. And I’m sure the things you’ve said about her are true, but—”

“But what?”

“First, I want to know why you’re doing this,” Thomas said. “If you’re not tired of her—”

“Tired of her? I wonder if I could ever grow tired of her.” Alex closed his eyes and sank back against the seat. “Nicki isn’t like the other women I’ve known. Power, money, social position—those things mean nothing to her. What she values most is her honor. She’ll do anything to keep it. Even if it means
putting her life in danger. Last week she tried to run away from me. God in heaven, I was so worried. Anything might have happened.”

“So rather than see her hurt, you’re willing to let me have her.”

“I trust you, Thomas. I know you’d be good to her. If I thought there was a chance for her to marry and be happy, I wouldn’t stand in her way.”

“How does Nicki feel?”

“I don’t know. She just doesn’t want to be my mistress.”

Thomas rounded his desk. “At the party, I spent time with her because I thought she needed the distraction. You were there with Clarissa. From the looks you and Nicki were exchanging, it was obvious something was going on between you.” Thomas sat down on the edge of his desk across from Alex. “I understand your situation, Alex. I know the problems you’re facing with Fortier and Belle Chêne. I know you can’t marry Nicki. I also know you’ve never been like this about any other woman.”

“I’ll admit she means a great deal to me—though as much trouble as she is, I often wonder why.”

“The why is easy—you’ve discovered someone good and kind, someone you can talk to, someone who doesn’t bow and scrape to your every command. In short, Alexandre, you’ve found a woman you can love.”

Alex scoffed. “I don’t believe in love. You of all people should know that by now.”

“Well, I do. And I won’t be happy until I’ve found it.”

Alex chuckled softly. “You’re a sentimental fool, my friend.”

“And you, Alexandre, are a cynic.”

Alex laughed. He felt relaxed again, back in control now that he knew his friend had no interest in Nicole. Yet wasn’t that exactly why he had come here—hoping his friend would marry her and see her safe? “Do you think I should pursue the idea?” he forced himself to ask. “As lovely as she is, it should be easy to find a decent man who would marry her.”

“Do you think you could give her up?” Thomas asked pointedly, and Alex glanced away.

“I don’t want to, Thomas, I can tell you. When I’m with Nicki, I feel like I’ve reached a haven from the problems of the world.”

He loves her
, Thomas thought.
And Nicki loves him.
He had been certain of that for some time. “Nicki cares for you, Alex, just as much as you care for her. On top of that, she’s safe with you, as she hasn’t been in years. Look what happened to her when she went off on her own before.”

“So you think I should keep her with me—even without her approval?”

“She belongs to you, doesn’t she?”

“What if she tries to run from me again?”

“Surely you can keep an eye on her until she gets resigned to the situation.” Thomas’s voice turned gentle. “You realize she may already be with child.”

“Actually, that was exactly what I’d been hoping. I felt certain that once she carried my babe, she would accept the course of her future.”

“Exactly,” Thomas agreed.

Alex stood up and Thomas walked him down the hall to the front door. “At least now your conscience is clear. You tried to find her a husband, but none
was available—at least none of whom you’d approve.”

Alex grinned so broadly, he dimpled. Feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he clapped his friend on the back. “Thank you,
mon ami.
You always seem to have the answers.”

“Maybe not always—” A knock at the door interrupted the balance of Thomas’s response. Opening it, he found Michele Christophe and her aunt Laverne standing on the banquette, the walkway out front.

“My twelve o’clock luncheon appointment is here,” Thomas said to Alex with a grin. “Ladies, won’t you please come in?” Wearing a walking dress of rich coffee-brown, Michelle stepped inside, followed by her aunt. “Mademoiselle Christophe, I believe you’ve met Alexandre du Villier.”

“Good afternoon, m’sieur.”

“And this is Madame Trepagnier, her aunt.”

“Enchanté
, madame,” Alex said gallantly.

“Bonjour
, m’sieur.” The robust woman forced a tight-lipped smile. She was dressed in a dark-green day dress with a too-high collar and carried a hand-painted fan. It was obvious she had heard stories of Alex’s newest mistress—Etienne St. Claire’s daughter, the Christophes’ old family friend. But Alex was too relieved to care.

“Well, I’d better be going.” He extended a hand to Thomas. “I’ll stop by the next time I’m in town.”

After a formal good-bye to the ladies, Alex headed into the street. The sun seemed brighter somehow, the air a little cleaner. It felt good to know he’d been right all along—seeing to Nicki’s welfare the best he knew how—considering their current set of circustances.
That his own chance for happiness had just soared dramatically he didn’t bother to deny.

And he planned to make her equally content. Sooner or later, Nicki would see that her foolish pride meant little in comparison to their happiness. Once she was round with child, she would settle in, accept the special place he meant for her to hold. Until then, he would do whatever it took to keep her with him.

Sometimes it seemed it was he who had no other choice.

All the way down the street, Michele on one arm, Madame Trepagnier on the other, Thomas wondered at his advice. He had known Alexandre for years, but never seen him so distraught. Maybe Alex was too blind to see, but Thomas wasn’t.

Alex was in love with Nicole.

He would marry Clarissa—in that he had no choice. But with Nicki as his mistress there was still a chance he could find happiness.

But what about Nicole?

Again Thomas felt his advice had been correct. It was just as obvious that Nicki was in love with Alex. On top of that, she had no one else to look after her, no family, no money, no possible way to take care of herself. The last time she had tried she had wound up in prison. Besides, just as he had said, Nicki might already be carrying Alex’s babe.

No, he had done the right thing, he decided. At least they’d be together, and though Nicki’s damnable pride might suffer, Alex would eventually make her happy.

He glanced over at Michele and his heart swelled
with warmth. Every man should have someone to love. Someone who would love him in return.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said to her.

Michele smiled back at him, her pretty green eyes alight with a sweetness he had found in few other women. “It is now,” she said. And Thomas felt again that he had done the right thing.

Nicki waited impatiently throughout the morning for Alex’s return. She had no idea where he had gone or why. Then again, that was probably the way a man treated his mistress.

In her soft teal day dress of velvet-trimmed merino, Nicki sat on the ice-blue brocade sofa in the salon, trying to occupy her mind with a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets when Alex opened the door. Handing Frederick his narrow-brimmed gray high hat, he strode in whistling and smiling—a far happier man than the one who had left her that morning. In fact, he looked downright cheerful.

Too cheerful.

Nicki didn’t like it one little bit.

“I’ve the carriage waiting outside,” he said, “why don’t we go for a ride?” Bending over, he brushed her lips with a kiss. “Soon we’ll be forced to stay indoors, but today it’s far too nice for that.”

Though his words were spoken with a casual air, his eyes swept over her, taking in the swell of her breast, the narrow circle of her waist. After the hard arousal she had left him with this morning, she was surprised he hadn’t demanded they spend the day upstairs in his big feather bed.