Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (11 page)

He pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing down on hers as he held her tightly against him. Her first reaction was astonishment, then as his hand moved boldly to her breasts, sheer fury erupted through her. She fought him, twisting and squirming violently in her efforts to escape his hot, seeking mouth and equally bold hands.

Managing finally to break free of him, her bosom heaving with temper and exertion, she glared at him in the moonlight. Without thinking, she soundly boxed his ears as he stood before her with that superior smile on his face.

"I would
never,"
she hissed in a shaken, furious tone, "consent to marry a man who acts so boorishly! How dare you force yourself upon me."

Alain's eyes glittered with an emotion that made her distinctly uneasy, and she stepped away from him. "Come one step nearer to me, and I shall scream," she warned him.

"And you think that your uncle or brother will come to help you?" Alain asked coolly. "You are a pretty little fool,
chérie,
and I wonder if it is not your hesitation to marry me which holds my interest."

"Hesitation?"
Micaela spat. "Just so you have no illusions, let me explain my position to you—I will
not
marry you—
under any circumstances!"

Alain almost smirked. "Will you not? Shall we make a wager on it?"

"Bah! It is useless to talk to you," she said disgustedly. "Go home, Alain. For the sake of the long friendship between our families, I will try to pretend that tonight did not happen. I hope that the next time we meet you will have recovered your senses."

His confidence not the least battered, Alain bowed and left.

Greatly disturbed by the incident, Micaela had gone immediately in search of her uncle. She found him looking over some papers in his office, which was in a separate building behind the main house.

The words tumbling out of her mouth, she poured out her story in bald detail. To her growing unease, Jean did not seem concerned. Deciding that he had not understood just how far Alain had gone beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior, a blush staining her cheeks, she muttered, "He kissed me,
oncle,
and t-t-touched me in a much too familiar manner."

His dark eyes shuttered, Jean glanced at her and remarked, "I think you make too much of his behavior. He is a young man in love. An extremely eligible young man. A young man who would make an excellent addition to our family."

Micaela flushed with anger. "I told you that I was
not
going to marry him! It is unfair of you and François to encourage his visits. And I do not appreciate having him always lurking about and... and pawing at me whenever we are out of sight of others."

Jean shrugged. "As I said, he is in love. A hot-blooded Creole in pursuit of his bride. You are cruel to keep him at a distance."

Micaela's eyes narrowed. "You do not intend to do anything about him, do you? You are trying to force me to marry him."

Jean looked away, unable to meet her accusing gaze. "Force you,
chérie?
I think you are becoming hysterical."

Micaela snorted. "And I think that you have become hard-of-hearing."

Jean shook his head. "You know how important it is for the family, especially your brother, for you to marry Husson. I suggest you rethink your position." A coaxing note entered his voice. "Becoming a spinster aunt to François's children is no future for you,
petite.
You are far too lovely to remain unmarried. By refusing Alain, you are being foolish and stubborn."

Micaela's hands clenched into fists. "And you will do nothing to stop Alain from continuing to persist in his unwanted attentions to me?"

Jean forced a smile. "As I said earlier,
petite,
I think you are making too much of his behavior. He is impetuous, and I will admit that perhaps he has let his desire for your hand in marriage go to his head.... You have been gently reared—it is natural that you should resist him, but I am afraid that in Alain's case, your reluctance only adds spice to the chase." His smile gone, a shadow on his face, he added with sudden weariness, "You might be wise to accept him, while it is still your choice."

"What do you mean?"

Jean sighed and, picking his words with great care, said, "Sometimes... events... happen which take away one's choices. You would do well to remember that the next time Alain comes to call."

Micaela was so incensed, so angry at Jean's lack of support that his words and the implied threat in them went right over her head. Her lovely face flushed with temper, her dark eyes flashing, she snapped, "And you would do well to remember that I will not be forced into a marriage I find repugnant!" Having said the last word, she stalked from the room.

Dissatisfied with Jean's reaction, she considered talking to François. Alain was, after all, François's friend. Perhaps if she made it clear to her brother...? But talking to François, she realized bitterly, would do no good—he, or at least his gambling, was the reason why the match with Alain was viewed with such favor.

Knowing there was at least one sympathetic ear into which she could pour out her troubles, Micaela stormed up the stairs, intending to tell her mother all that had transpired.
Maman
would support her.
Maman
would make the males of the family listen to reason. Halfway to Lisette's room she stopped. She was not a child, she chided herself, to run to
Maman
at the first sign of difficulty. She was an adult. And her situation was not so very precarious—unpleasant, perhaps, but not serious. And the solution was simple—all she had to do was avoid Alain and keep saying no—vehemently! She would take great care that she did not find herself in the same position that she had tonight. A smile curved her mouth. Eventually even the most ardent suitor would lose heart if he was continually met with an icy shoulder and a frozen stare.

* * *

The date of the house party approached swiftly. To Micaela's relief there were no further incidents with Alain, and she wondered if Jean had, after all, had a word with him. Perhaps Alain had finally realized that she was serious about her refusal to marry him? Whatever the reason for Alain's absence, Micaela was grateful for it.

Sitting alone on Tuesday morning in the gazebo which overlooked the river, she snatched a few minutes respite from the frantic preparations which had consumed the household in preparation of the party.

The house would be full of guests in a few hours and several pleasurable activities had been planned for their amusements. Tomorrow there would be a tour of the plantation and dinner al fresco in the gardens; Thursday afternoon, a riverboat trip had been arranged; on Friday they were all going for an extended ride in the country; a midday interlude had been arranged. At a favorite family stopping point, a pleasant area littered with moss-draped live oaks and with a commanding view of the Mississippi River, a luncheon would be served by the servants, who would have ridden ahead to have everything ready to serve the riders when they arrived. On Saturday night, Lisette had planned a grand ball to which everyone for miles around had been invited. Other amusements were planned and, of course, the gentlemen would be able to hunt and ride as the mood took them; the ladies would be able to explore the extensive and beautiful gardens and grounds adjacent to the house.

Knowing that Hugh Lancaster had been invited, Micaela was both looking forward to and dreading the coming party. She could not understand her antagonistic attitude toward him—even if he was an
Américain!
She had, she admitted uneasily, met several
Americains,
the Summerfield family for instance, and not once had she been prompted to make a hostile comment while in their company. Normally a warm, congenial person, she was appalled at the aggravating things that came out of her mouth whenever she was around Hugh Lancaster. It was embarrassing and, she confessed with guilty pleasure,
very
exciting. Every stinging barb she aimed at him filled her with that odd mixture of guilt and excitement. Rather, she thought ruefully as she rose and began to walk toward the house, like pulling the whiskers of a sleek, sleeping tiger.

* * *

Hugh's appearance that afternoon when he arrived at the Dupree plantation was as far from the description of a
sleeping
tiger as one could get. After he had swung off his horse, a big, restive bay, she greeted him as she stood beside her mother and Jean on the wide steps of the plantation house. Micaela confessed to herself that she had never met such a virile and exciting man. One lazy glance from his surprisingly long-lashed gray eyes and she was aware of herself in a way she had never experienced. She felt...
female,
and something inside of her responded irresistibly to his very maleness. It was unsettling. So when it was her turn to welcome him, she said coolly, "
Monsieur
Lancaster, how... ah, nice that you could bring yourself to leave behind the pressing affairs of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree and accept my uncle's humble invitation to join us for a few days."

Still holding her hand in his, Hugh grinned. Little vixen! If they were alone, he'd teach her to watch that impudent tongue. In fact, he thought with a sweet stab in his loins, he'd enjoy teaching her some pleasurable uses for that sharp little tongue.

A glitter in his gray eyes, Hugh murmured, "But
mademoiselle,
surely you know that the promise of your charming company holds far more allure for me than mere business."

Micaela blinked at the compliment, and she looked very young and vulnerable. Adorably so, Hugh thought.

Flustered, she managed to stammer, "H-h-how, very g-g-gallant,
monsieur."

Jean's gaze narrowed. The interplay made him uneasy, and he was frowning as he watched Hugh, escorted by the two women, disappear into the house. Between Lancaster's meddling at the firm, Husson's pressing for payment of François's debt, and Micaela's stubborn refusal to marry Husson—he needed no further complications at this date. Worriedly Jean played back the exchange between Micaela and Hugh. Lancaster's interest in Micaela had better not go beyond polite flirtation.

Later that afternoon, after all the guests had arrived and everyone had been shown to their rooms and were dressing for dinner, Jean had a word with François. A troubled frown between his eyes, Jean asked François, "Have you noticed, er, anything unusual between your sister and the
Américain?"

François, who was reclining comfortably in a chair in Jean's office, looked astonished. "Micaela and Lancaster? Are you jesting?"

Jean shrugged. "Just an idle question. When they met this afternoon, I thought that there was something."

François snorted. "You are imagining things. Lancaster's interest is well-known to lie with a certain blond, very lovely
Américaine."

"Which is why the Summerfields were invited—and why you have been paying much attention to this same young lady,
non?"

François laughed, his dark eyes dancing. "She
is
very lovely, even you must admit—
Américaine
though she is. And if I can tweak the tiger's nose by flirting with his intended bride, why would you deny me my pleasure."

"Is that all it is—tweaking Hugh's nose?"

"Of course, what other interest would I have in an
Américaine
female?" François asked, surprised.

Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, Jean muttered, "We need no complications, remember that."

It was François's turn to shrug. "But we will have none after Friday night, will we? My debt to Husson will be paid, you will have the capital you need for the plantation, and Husson will have what he wants—Micaela."

"Everything is arranged?"

François nodded. "Everything. Husson knows what he has to do, and he is most eager. With my help, it will be easy enough for him to separate her from the others—I shall be blind and deaf—except to the comfort of the rest of our guests, of course. And I shall swiftly lead them away. The fact that two of our party disappear on the ride will not be noticed until after we return home, and by then it will be dusk. Far too late to go looking for the two missing members. It will be Saturday morning before we can institute a search for them." Reluctantly, he added, "And by then, it will be much,
much
too late for Micaela. Honor will demand that she and Husson marry." François could not meet Jean's gaze, a nagging feeling of guilt rushing through him, especially when he realized that it was
his
debts that had brought them to this point—his debts and unrelenting pressure from Husson.

Unhappily, Jean muttered, "If only there were some other way." He grimaced, knowing there was not, and said bleakly, "It is unfortunate that circumstances have driven us to this dishonorable, desperate plan. We, who should protect her, are willing to sacrifice her for our own gain."

Chapter 6