Midnight Flame (15 page)

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“Would Mademoiselle like the curtains drawn?”

Laurel glanced from her position on the bed and shook her head at the pretty, young woman with skin the color of light chocolate.

“I think not, Pauline. I want the curtains always opened from now on. I like the sunshine,” Laurel amended, seeing the peculiar glance the servant girl sent her way. She couldn’t explain to one of Tony Duvalier’s servants how she had come to love the sun after her imprisonment.

She wondered if Duvalier had informed anyone about what had happened to her. Most certainly she hadn’t told him anything other than what the driver must have told him. A man had kidnapped her from the coach. Only Tony knew where she had been kept prisoner, and if he assumed the worst, he hadn’t said anything to her so far. In fact, over the last week, since she had been at Petit Coteau and under a physician’s care, Tony had been very kind and behaved as a perfect gentleman should. If not for Tony’s private search for her, she would have certainly died.

But as Laurel sipped the warm tea offered her by Pauline, she again wondered why he hadn’t found her before she escaped. Surely he was familiar with the territory. He had lived in the area all his life. When she gathered the courage to ask him who the man might have been, even going so far as to admit the truth about Lavinia’s deception to him, he had remained strangely silent. She had feared he would condemn her, but he had gently told her to forget the whole incident, that she was safe with him.

She stretched luxuriously against the linen sheets, the frills at the neckline of her nightdress tickling her chin. Tony Duvalier had thought of everything, even to going back to the Garland Hotel and claiming her trunks so she would have her own things. She grudgingly admitted that she was liking him more and more each day. Another man, given the strange circumstances of her disappearance, might not have offered her a room in his home in which to recuperate. But then again, she had known from the very first that Tony Duvalier wasn’t like other men.

A knock sounded on the door. She nodded to Pauline to admit Tony, who always visited her at the same time each afternoon after lunch. At the dismissive wave of his hand, Pauline scampered away, leaving the two of them alone. Today, Tony wore a pair of dark-brown trousers, a tan shirt, and black riding boots. The color emphasized his deep bronze coloring and the raven head of curly hair. Laurel had never seen a blacker pair of eyes than Tony’s and for a fleeting second she recalled how they had flared with passion the night they had nearly made love at the Mardi Gras dance. She blinked rapidly to dispel the image. After all that had happened to her in the last ten days, she didn’t want to become bewitched by Tony Duvalier. Besides he had a fiancée.

Moving a Queen Anne chair closer to the tester bed, whose sheer white hangings were tied to the four mahogany bedposts, Tony sat down and handed her a book. “I thought you might like to read, since you look as though you’re feeling better.”

She took the thin volume from him, amazed at how Tony always made it seem as if he had just left the room for a brief instant, when actually it had been a whole day. Why was it that suddenly she felt she knew him so much better since he had found her and brought her here? Probably because he
had
found her and didn’t question her about what had happened between her and “that man,” as she now thought of her kidnapper.

“Aurora Leigh “
Laurel said and noticed it was a comparatively new work by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. “Thank you so very much, Tony. I loved her
Sonnets from the Portuguese.
I do feel quite well now and shall start reading this today.”

He spread his long legs out in front of him. “Don’t expect too much from this work. It isn’t that good of a story, but it does have its moments. I thought you might be interested in reading the latest literary rage.”

A dimple deepened in one of Laurel’s cheeks. “I had no idea you were such a learned fellow.”

“I suppose there’s quite a bit you don’t know about me, Laurel.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

A long stretch of silence passed between them. She heard his steady breathing and felt his gaze upon her face when she turned away to sip at her tea. His intense perusal of her caused her to feel apprehensive, edgy, and she felt that stupid stain of color rising to her cheeks. Why couldn’t she be like Lavinia more and accept a man’s gaze without blushing like a silly fool? The thought flashed across her mind that the man who had loved her for that one wild, mind-drugging night could be very close-by. Her hand shook and caused the cup and saucer to rattle. Immediately Tony was up and took it from her. He placed it on the table beside the bed and looked down at her.

“You’re very beautiful, Laurel.”

In fact, Tony thought, she was more than beautiful. Just looking at her caused him to yearn for her. He ached to hold her again, to inflame her passions for him whereby she would melt shamelessly in his arms. But he must tread slowly with Laurel or lose her forever.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she whispered and tried to avert her gaze from his penetrating eyes, but he tilted her face up to his. “Once I might have welcomed your attentions, but, Tony, things are different now. Things have changed.”

Her honesty took him aback, and he didn’t understand at first. Then the light dawned. For the first time she was admitting in her shy but subtle way that something had happened in that cabin on the bayou. Why now and why to him? Did this vague confession mean she could never give her heart to him now?

Tears misted her eyes, turning them into sparkling green pools. The hurt, the raw pain reflected in their watery depths tore at his very soul.

“I’m not the same person I was before that man, and I…” She could barely say the words as a sob shook her. “Oh, why am I telling you this? I swore I’d never tell another person what happened to me.”

Tony could tell she longed to cry, and he sat next to her on the bed, drawing her into his arms as she finally broke down and sobbed out the painful truth, which was much more painful for him to hear than for her to tell. She had no idea of the guilt he carried, how he longed to make it all up to her. When she had finished reciting her tale and wiped her eyes with one of his silk kerchiefs, she even managed a timid smile, which tugged at his heart, black cursed thing that it was.

“So, you see, Tony, I’m unfit for any man,” he heard her say. “There can never be anything between us now. That man must live nearby, and for the rest of my life, I’ll be haunted by his image. For all anyone knows, he could be an acquaintance of yours. What if he comes here for me?”

“You’re safe here now, Laurel.” His voice sounded ragged, and his large hands clasped her upper arms, keeping her in place when she sought to move away. “I can make you forget what happened—all of it—if you’ll let me try.”

Laurel had no doubt that Tony would endeavor to make her forget. But could she ever stop remembering the feel of the man’s lips upon her body, the way she had wantonly arched herself upward to meet that first heart-stopping thrust when their bodies joined? Could Tony really make her forget? Did she want to forget?

“Oh, God, Tony, I don’t know anything anymore!”

He was pushing her too hard. Time was what she needed, but he didn’t know how long he could wait for her. The intoxicating scent of violets drifted from her hair, and beneath the thin, frilly gown he could see the rise and fall of her full breasts with each breath she took. He longed to throw her on her back, to admit he was the one who had loved her and that he was going to love her again. No doubt, she would respond to him. He was certain enough of his prowess to know what her reaction would be. It was what would come later that bothered him. She would be repulsed by what he had done, and he couldn’t bear to harm her again. No, time was the best he could do for now.

Letting her go, he stood up. “I’m sorry about everything,” he said, his voice laced with meanings she couldn’t fathom. “You need your rest, and I’m badgering you about things you can’t deal with at the moment.” Bending down, he kissed the top of her head. “Ring for Pauline if you need anything.”

Then he was gone.

Laurel gazed at the closed door for a long time afterward. Her thoughts whirled in her head like leaves in a windstorm. She really ought to leave Petit Coteau for San Antonio. Her uncle needed her. But she couldn’t leave yet, not with the feeling that her life was unsettled. Too much had happened in too short a time. She couldn’t think straight. Perhaps the best remedy was to remain in Tony’s home until she could decide what to do. But beneath the rational musings was an irrational thought that her kidnapper was still nearby, and this knowledge brought a rapid heat to her body, almost consuming her with forbidden desire.

From beneath her pillow she withdrew the shiny gold button and clasped it to her breasts. Pauline had been quite upset with her when Laurel felt well enough to demand to know what had been done with her gypsy costume. Pauline had grudgingly retrieved it from the trash to be burned. When the torn and dirty, gold-and-purple skirt was again in her hands, Laurel had clawed at the hem until the button popped out. The gold button was all she had to convince her that the night she had lain in a stranger’s arm hadn’t been a dream.

It had been paradise.

Two
days later Laurel was surprised by the unexpected arrival of Gincie. The woman flew into the room and embraced Laurel against her ample bosom, stroking her hair as though she were a little girl and calling her “my baby.” In the doorway stood Tony with a huge grin on his handsome face and an unaccountable softness in his eyes.

“When Mister Duvalier came to tell me that you had been sick, Miss Laurel, I just up and told Doctor Mornay that I didn’t feel poorly anymore. My place is with my baby, I told him. I done thought you left for Texas, but you ain’t gonna get rid of me now. I’m stayin’ with you until you get your strength back to travel on to San Antonio.” Gincie folded her arms across her chest in a gesture of loving defiance. Laurel laughed and grabbed one of her hands.

“I wouldn’t think of going anywhere without you, Gincie. I’ve missed you so. Are you really feeling better?”

“I sure am,” Gincie said, eyeing the opened chifforobe in distaste. With much hustle and bustle she marched over to it and withdrew three of Laurel’s best gowns, declaring that that uppity French girl didn’t know anything about taking care of a lady’s dresses, which were in need of pressing. With the gowns laid over her arms, Gincie hurried from the room in a whirl of rainbow-colored silks and satins to teach Pauline a thing or two.

Tony sauntered leisurely into the room and took his accustomed place in the chair by her bed. “I think Pauline has finally met her match,” he observed and shot Laurel a devastatingly handsome smile.

“Do you mind if Gincie takes over looking after me?” Laurel leaned back against the propped-up pillows and drew the sheet up a bit. Something about Tony’s covetous glance caused her to flush.

“Not at all. That’s why I brought her here. I knew you missed her, and she certainly has missed you.” The smile faded and deepened into something more serious as he observed Laurel, whose long, dark hair spilled in silken waves across her shoulders. Even the ruffles of the gown at the neck couldn’t conceal the swell of her breasts beneath the thin material. An ache started in Tony’s loins. God, he would grow crazy if he couldn’t have her warm, willing body beneath his again.

“Laurel,” he began in a husky breath, then cleared his throat. “Do you really intend to head on to San Antonio when you’re recovered enough to travel?”

“Yes, I must. My uncle is ill. I told you all about that.”

“I wish you’d wait a while.”

Her eyebrows arched, and he continued hurriedly. “Until I know you won’t fall ill again. I’d like to show you Petit Coteau, if I may.”

Somehow she felt he had wanted to say something else. Perhaps he wanted her to stay because he had come to care about her? But if she stayed, then what? He couldn’t offer her marriage. Tony was engaged to Simone Lancier, and the memory of Simone’s clinging to him, the embrace she had seen between the two, caused Laurel to know that she hadn’t a chance with Tony Duvalier. He might desire her, as he had proved the night of the dance when she had nearly abandoned herself to him on the lawn. But Laurel could foresee no future with a womanizer like Tony. Granted, he had rescued her and been incredibly kind and solicitous to her. She owed him a great deal, but she didn’t owe him her heart and vowed she wouldn’t be swayed by Tony’s ardor again. Not when she had tasted true passion in the arms of a stranger, a man she would never see again, an experience that would be forever denied her in the future.