Creole Fires (9 page)

“That’s what I said. And there’s no way Miss Clarissa’s gonna put up with the likes a you under Master Alex’s roof.” The housekeeper eyed her from the top of her copper hair to the small bare feet that peeped from the bottom of her nightshirt.

Nicole sank down on the bed. “If he sells me again, I’ll just die.” She twisted the folds of her nightshirt and stared at the hands she rested in her lap. “Belle Chêne is the only home I’ve had in years. I can’t bear the thought of leaving—I just can’t.” Salty tears rolled down her cheeks.

Mrs. Leander sat down beside her. “Here, here, now. Master Alex wouldn’t sell you to somebody cruel.” Nicki only cried harder. Mrs. Leader cradled her head against one plump breast.

“It’s all right, dearie, don’t fret yourself so.” She patted the top of Nicki’s head. “If you’re that set on stayin’, we just won’t let on for a while. Once the master and Clarissa are married and she’s settled in, she’ll probably let you stay. She’s a practical sort. Master Alex paid handsomely for you. She’ll want to earn back every cent.”

That wasn’t the most comforting thought, but at least she would be able to stay at Belle Chêne.

“Then you won’t give me away?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wouldn’t want to give Miss Clarissa the satisfaction of steppin’ in. I’ll deny I ever said it, but I think the master’s makin’ a bad mistake. He’s a fine man. He deserves someone who’ll love him, not just a woman who’s marrying him to increase her holdin’s and improve her social position.”

“Alex doesn’t believe in love.”

“So it’s Alex, is it?”

“I don’t call him that. I just think of him that way.”

“For your own sake, dear, you’d best not let your mind wander in that direction.”

Nicki took a steadying breath and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “You’re right, of course.” Mrs. Leander stood up and so did Nicole. “I won’t forget your kindness.”

Mrs. Leander frowned. “I hope it’s a kindness I’ll be doin’.”

Nicki wondered what she meant.

The following day Patrick returned to Belle Chêne, pulling her thoughts away from Alex’s coming marriage. A little adventure was what she needed to put things in perspective. How long had it been since she’d ridden free, done exactly what she wanted?

Eyes bright with anticipation, she met Patrick out at the stables just before midnight.

“I’m riding Napoleon,” she announced without preamble.

“Are you daft? No one rides him but the duke.”

“You said we wouldn’t get caught. If we’re going to do this, then I’m riding Napoleon.”

Patrick scratched his head and looked uncertain. Then he grinned. “Ye’ve the spirit of the Irish, me girl,” he said, exaggerating his accent. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

They saddled the horses, Nicki insisting on a sidesaddle, though Patrick seemed determined she should ride astride. “You’ll break your damned fool neck in that contraption.”

“I ride better this way,” she said, not bothering to tell him she had ridden this way for years.

They led the horses into the trees behind the stable before they mounted, Patrick giving her a knee up, then swinging up himself. Napoleon, edgy and fighting the bit, danced and snorted, and it occurred to her he’d probably never been ridden this way before. She spoke to him softly and soon had him gentled and ready to go.

“Ye’ve got a way with ‘im, lass.” With a smile of approval, Patrick dug his heels into the tall black gelding he rode, and they were away, hooves thundering over the hard-packed earth.

Nicki couldn’t remember a better night. With the stars above and the huge bay stallion responding to her every command, she felt more free than she had in years. After several hours of riding beside the cane fields, they stopped at a stream to give the horses a drink, dismounted, and dangled their bare feet in the water.

“You’re a pretty one, lass,” Patrick said to her. “You’ll make a fine-lookin’ woman one day.”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

“Make a fine wife, too, I’ll wager, with your fancy talk and educated ways.” He flashed her an approving glance and started to say something more, but
Napoleon whinnied, reminding them that the hour was late, and they decided it was time to head home.

Nicki was grateful. Patrick was at least two years younger than she, though he thought it was the other way around. He was a nice boy, someone she wanted to keep as a friend. She hoped he would be understanding when he found out she had been lying to him.

Fleetingly, it crossed her mind that Alex might not take her deception any better.

“I’ll race you to the top of the rise,” Patrick called after her once they were mounted and ready, and the horses thundered away. Running neck and neck through the first leg of the race, Napoleon, at Nicki’s urging, took a downed fence and began to pull ahead. As they crossed a fallow field, he led by two lengths, running flat out, his ears laid back against his head, his neck stretched into the wind. The big bay stallion was enjoying the race as much as she was.

Laughing with the rush of victory, Nicki slowed him just before they reached the rise that overlooked the house and stables below.

“That felt wonderful!” she said. Reining the horses to a halt, they dismounted beneath an oak tree, giving the animals a chance to blow.

“You’re really somethin’, lass.” Patrick looked at her with nothing short of awe.

“She’s something, all right,” said Alex, stepping from behind the tree. “A foolish little bit of baggage who’s bound and determined to get herself killed.”

Patrick swallowed so hard Nicki could hear it. “She—she’s a fine rider, your grace. You taught her well.”

“Take the horses back to the barn,” Alex commanded
him. “Sullivan wants a word with you.” It was obvious the stable manager had more in mind than conversation.

“Yes, your grace.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“No, your grace … I mean, no, sir.”

Alex waited until Patrick led the horses away, then turned a hard look on Nicki, whose heart hammered so hard she could barely breathe.

“As for you,
ma petite …”
He gripped the top of her arms and pulled her up on her toes. “What in the name of God did you think you were doing? Napoleon is a very valuable animal. On top of that, he’s dangerous. It’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed.” He shook her—hard. “I ought to turn you over my knee and give you the thrashing you deserve. In fact …” He tightened his hold and glanced toward a fallen log, looking as if he meant to do just that.

Nicki’s eyes went wide. His expression looked murderous. She could feel the power in his hands where they gripped her arms, read the anger in the set of his jaw. Suddenly she was back in the Laurent house, fending off her owner’s heavy blows, fighting to ignore the pain, desperate not to show her fear. She whimpered and went limp in Alex’s arms.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, her voice filled with terror. “Please …”

Alex’s hold gentled. He couldn’t have touched her for the life of him. Her pretty aqua eyes had grown so huge they engulfed her pale face, and she was trembling all over. “Ah,
ma petite.
So brave one moment, so fearful the next. What in God’s name have they done to you?”

She started to cry then, soft little sobs that pulled at his heart. He drew her into his arms and let her cry against his chest until the wetness touched his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, brushing strands of copper hair from her tear-damp cheeks.

“I can’t tell you I’m sorry. It felt wonderful to be free again, even for a night.”

Alex pulled away. “Belle Chêne isn’t a prison,” he said gruffly. “And asking you not to steal my most valuable stallion is hardly asking too much.”

“Don’t say that—” She glanced up at him, meeting his hard look squarely. “I didn’t steal him. I was only exercising him for you.”

“You most certainly did that.”

“If it displeases you so much, I’ll promise not to do it again.”

Alex felt the pull of a smile, but kept his voice stern. “You won’t do it again because next time I’ll carry out my threat. In the meantime, you’ll work two extra hours a day for the next two weeks. And if you’ve done anything to Napoleon, you may still get that thrashing.”

Nicki watched him from beneath her thick, dark lashes. He was mad all right, furious in fact. But his expression showed concern. Had Alex been worried about her?

“Now get back to the house,” he finished.

Alex watched her run down the hill.
What was it about her?
He’d been furious when, unable to sleep, he’d wandered out to the stables and found Napoleon gone. He hadn’t believed for an instant the horse had been stolen, but he never would have guessed who was riding him.

When he’d seen her racing the stable boy over the hill toward the rise, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. She had learned well, better than he could possibly have imagined. Still, Napoleon was not a horse to be trifled with. That the animal had accepted the strange new saddle at all surprised him. Then to be controlled by someone her size … well, she’d been lucky this time, but she might not be so lucky the next.

He probably should have given her the licking she deserved. The next time she got the urge to go riding off in the middle of the night, she would have something to remind her not to!

Alex scoffed at himself. Since when had he begun to discipline the servants? He must be losing his mind. The girl was getting to him—making him feel protective in a way he hadn’t before.

Alex shook his head. That Nicki was special he had no doubt. For the most part, he was glad he had bought her contract after all. She deserved a chance in life, a chance to better herself. If it weren’t for the growing attraction he felt for her, he wouldn’t give her employment at Belle Chêne a second thought.

As it was, however, every time he looked at her, he felt a little like Valcour Fortier. He kept wondering how her body would look once she filled out, how her shiny copper hair would look unbraided and draped around her shoulders.

Three years, he told himself. In three years you can make her your mistress. With the problems Belle Chêne was facing, his upcoming marriage, the tension between him and his brother, which they seemed unable to resolve, and the hard work it took
just to run the plantation, he’d be so busy that three years wouldn’t be so long.

Nicole didn’t see much of Alex for the next two weeks. He worked long, tiring hours in the cane fields, and thanks to her midnight foray, she had extra duties as well. Once, when she’d seen him out on the veranda where she was sweeping, she had purposely avoided him.

It wasn’t that she was sorry for what she’d done—her wild night of freedom had been worth it. What bothered her was the way she’d behaved in front of him.

How could I have let him see me that way?
She should have taken whatever punishment Alex handed out and never said a word. Whatever he would have done to her would have been finished there and then, and her self-respect would have remained intact. Instead she’d behaved like a coward.

It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t picked that particular moment to remember Armand Laurent, the cloth merchant who had bought her contract from the Ramseys. Laurent had taught her the meaning of fear. His drunken episodes had left her battered and bruised, with cracked ribs and broken bones, and constantly in terror of when it would happen again.

Then had come Adrian Paxton. The beautiful dark-haired woman had never physically abused Nicole, but in lying about the stolen brooch and sending her to prison, had demonstrated just as clearly the power one human being could wield against another.

That was then and this is now
, Nicki told herself firmly. You’re Etienne St. Claire’s daughter. You’re
not in prison anymore, and even if you were, it’s time you remember just exactly who you are. She prayed she’d be able to live up to her convictions, but even if she failed, she felt better having made the commitment.

By the following Monday, she was back to her normal work schedule. Out behind the stables, where she sat beneath an oak tree to lunch on some meat and cheese, she spotted Alex striding toward her.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said, surprising her.

“You were looking for me?”

“I’ve missed you,” he teased. He looked as handsome as ever in his tight beige riding breeches and snowy linen shirt. His flat-brimmed planter’s hat shaded his dark-brown eyes from the sun.

Nicki’s cheeks felt warm and her heartbeat had speeded up the moment she had seen him walking toward her. She wanted to tell him she’d missed him, too, but didn’t.

“I’ve got to ride out to the sugar mill in about an hour. I thought you might like to go along. You’d get a chance to ride again, and I think you’d find it interesting.”

It sounded wonderful. She couldn’t tell him she’d spent hours in her family’s mill at Meadowood. Her favorite night of the year had been the harvest celebration—the sugarhouse ball—where all the workers and their families drank rum or syllabub, a mixture of white wine and whipped cream, and danced until dawn amidst the vats of drying sugar.

She wanted desperately to say yes, but shook her head instead. “Today’s Monday. I’ve got floors to sweep and beds to change—”

“I told them I needed your help for a couple of hours.”

Nicki smiled. “In that case, I’d love to go.”

With a sweeping glance that made her suddenly short of breath, Alex’s dark eyes raked her from head to foot. She would have given two more years of servitude to be wearing a beautiful gown instead of her dowdy black uniform.

“Why don’t you go in and change?”

Into what?
she thought, suddenly angry. He knew she had nothing else to wear. “I’m afraid this will have to do.” She lifted her chin. “If I’m going to embarrass you, maybe I shouldn’t go.”

Alex smiled indulgently. “I asked Mrs. Leander to have a few things made for you. She told me this morning they were finished. You’ll find them upstairs in your room.”

Her expression must have been priceless. “You’re giving me new clothes?”

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.”