Zoe Page 7

Once again, the heat between them ignited. She twisted around to look into his blue eyes and felt the same thrill of illicit desire she’d experienced when she’d stood naked in his room. The citrus scent of his aftershave engulfed her. He was even more stunningly virile than she remembered.

  Turning her face from his, she concentrated on the scenery. Up ahead was a forest. It looked thick and dark and impenetrable. But, for now, the sun shone on her face and a breeze teased her with La Roque’s heady scent. Slowly, she relaxed back into his arms and leaned against him. Closing her eyes, she gave into memories of those precious moments of lying beneath him as he made love to her.

  Her dreams merged with reality, the past with the present, as she felt his right hand move upward on her tight bodice and cup the curve of her breast. His touch was firm and persuasive. She tensed, but then realized that since they rode ahead of Marianne, his caress did not put them in danger of being exposed.

  “You tempt me,” he whispered through the locks of her hair. “I want so much to finish what we started.”

  She swallowed, inwardly renewing her pledge to resist him, but making little overt effort to avoid his touch.

  She grew curious as they approached what seemed to be an old cottage. Half of the cottage looked to be destroyed by fire, but the other half stood tall.

  “What is that? ” she asked pointing to the structure.

  “You shall see.”

  La Roque steered the mare toward the ruins. He maneuvered the horse around the side, and then rode through a gaping hole at the back of the cottage. Inside the frame of the cottage, the ground was covered with charred, unrecognizable debris. La Roque steered the horse away from the destruction, circling the inside perimeter, so as to not upset the animal. Zoé took in everything, amazed. The roof was missing, but a lot of the walls remained, along with scorched furnishings. Zoé noted how La Roque guided the horse through the rubble with a practiced hand. He seemed at ease in this strange place. Had he known the people who lived here? Who were they and did they survive what must have been a horrible fire?

  She glanced back to check on Marianne and saw the same amazement on her sister’s face. She also saw that Sheridan had placed his hand rather provocatively around Marianne’s waist. She wanted that animal away from her sister.

  “May we get down and explore? ” she asked, hoping to free Marianne from Sheridan’s grip.

  “Of course,” La Roque said.

  He brought the horse to a halt, and Zoé turned to smile at him in thanks. The words died on her lips, however. Instead, her breath caught at the desire in his eyes. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her right there, out in the open, in front of the others.

  The moment passed and he climbed down. Then he reached up for her and she slid down into his arms, allowing him to pull her close. For two seconds, their faces were only a finger’s width apart and she feared that she might kiss him.

  “Merci,” she said and stepped away, out of his reach.

  Looking over at Marianne, she saw that Sheridan had performed the same maneuver, but instead of putting distance between them, her sister had giggled and remained in his arms.

  Zoé held up her skirt to avoid the rubble and walked over to her sister. “May we speak? ” she said under her breath.

  Sheridan raised an eyebrow.

  Marianne frowned. “What is it? ”

  Zoé ignored Sheridan, grabbed Marianne by the arm, and drew her to one side. Sheridan walked his horse over to where La Roque stood, tying his mare down. Marianne’s porcelain complexion blushed a deep pink as she glanced over at them. She snatched her arm away from Zoé.

  “Why must you embarrass me so? ”

  “You’re embarrassing yourself. If you want La Roque, you can’t flirt with his friend.”

  Marianne glared at her. “You mean the way you flirt with him?”

  “I’ve told you, there is nothing between us. When Papa comes, I will leave.” Zoé saw that Marianne was too angry to listen to reason.

  “Please,” Zoé begged. “You have to be smart.”

  Marianne took a step back. She whispered in a rush of words. “He hasn’t looked twice at me,” she said bitterly. “He wants you. Monsieur Sheridan, however, knows how to appreciate a lady.” With that, she walked off in a huff.

  Zoé started to call after her, but then saw how the two men were watching and thought better of it. She would simply have to keep an eye on Marianne.

  “What is this place? ” Marianne asked, looking around.

  “It belonged to a count. He built it for his mistress,” La Roque said, giving Zoé a meaningful glance.

  Her lips tightened and her eyes returned a warning. He either didn’t understand her meaning or chose to ignore it.

  “What do you think of it, Zoé? In its day, it was quite grand.”

  Everyone turned to her, and she blushed. Eyes on La Roque, she said, “Well, apparently the mistress didn’t think much of it if she burned it down.”

  Marianne looked back at La Roque. “Did she burn it down? ”

  He ran his gloved hand across the burnt remains of what might’ve been a table.

  “The count burned it down, with her in it. Their love was a forbidden one. He couldn’t have married her, but he couldn’t abide the idea of another man having her. While he spent many a night with his wife and family, Marcela was left to roam the cottage alone. A gamekeeper observed her loneliness, and befriended her. Let’s just say that the friendship evolved into something more.”

  “Well, he should have burned it, if she was insolent enough to bring another man into his home,” Sheridan snapped, walking around and kicking at debris.

  Zoé glared at him. “If he bought it for her, it was her home, too.”

  Sheridan laughed. “Do you know what being a mistress is like? It’s indentured servitude with a nice jeweled collar. This place was no more hers than it is yours.”

  Stung, Zoé was about to snap back with a ready reply when La Roque intervened.

  “Enough,” he said, silencing Sheridan. “You are right,” he told Zoé. “It was hers, but when she agreed to be his mistress, she became his. No other man was to touch her. Do you understand? ”

  Zoé was aware of how the others watched them. She caught Marianne’s frown and worried that they would have another scene later. So, Marianne’s next words surprised her.

  Marianne gave La Roque a level look. “My sister will never be any man’s mistress,” she said and went to stand next to Zoé.

  Zoé looked at her and smiled.

  La Roque spoke to Marianne, amused. “Of course not, excuse my rudeness. I just wanted you demoiselles to know the sad love story of Marcela—”

  “Sounds more like a horror story to me,” Zoé said.

  She turned and walked away. She felt the sting of the way his tale mocked her and just wanted to escape all three of them. Walking around the corner, she took a deep breath.

  Before her were the charred remnants of a portrait on the wall. It drew her. With a sidewise squint, she could make out the profile of a woman.

  La Roque walked in behind her. “That’s Marcela.”

  “I tire of your games.”

  He came up behind her, touching her hair. “I still desire you, Zoé.”

  “Well, I don’t desire you.”

  “I think you do.”

  She turned to face him. “That’s what it’s all about for you—the chase. You toy with me for your own amusement, and I’ve let you. I find you rude, arrogant, and most unpleasant. I may not have much say in my life, but I do control my own heart. I could never give it to a man like you!”

  Her words struck home. He flinched. Anger and hurt flashed in his eyes. Good. She had finally fought back. She was sick of men like him. Maybe she’d find herself an African to marry and have her black babies in peace. Then she could be valued as a person and not as a piece of meat.

  She went to the charred fireplace and touched the burnt mantle. This place both saddened
and angered her. It had been the site of a woman’s miserable life and horrible death. Had La Roque thought he would change her mind by bringing her here?

  Dusting off her hands, she said. “Now that we’ve seen this place, can you please take us back? ”

  La Roque walked over with his hands clasped behind his back. “Don’t you want to know why the count gave into madness and killed Marcela? ”

  “Not really, no. Furthermore, you said she cheated on him. What more is there to say? Evidently his hold on her wasn’t as strong as he thought.”

  “There’s plenty to say. Her sleeping with another man wasn’t the worst of it, though the mere thought of another man touching her was a catalyst.”

  He reached out to caress her, but she avoided the embrace. Ignoring that rejection, he continued.

  “He killed her because, after all he tried to do to make her feel comfortable and loved, she never gave him her heart. That was what he desired most. ” He muttered to himself, “Funny… a man wanting his mistress’s heart.”

  “I can’t blame her. You can’t enslave a woman and then expect her love in return. Could you live like that? I think not.”

  He was thoughtful. “No, I suppose I couldn’t.” He looked at her. “But I don’t want a slave, Zoé. I want a lover, a friend and someone to share my passions and regrets with, someone to give my heart to. You willingly gave me the most special part of you last night. I can’t imagine you leaving my side to give the rest of your heart to someone else.”

  His eyes never left hers for an instant, and his yearning made her weak. She had to close her own to find the strength to resist him. It took an effort, but she did. Opening her eyes, she frowned at him.

  “You can’t be serious. You are trying to romanticize this? ” She gestured at the surrounding destruction. “Don’t you see what this was for her? What it did to him? How could this be what you want? You could have any woman. Why do you insist on these games? ”

  “I’m trying to tell you that this isn’t all that I seek. I want more. You could be happy with this arrangement.”

  Zoé could barely contain her fury. “Contrary to what you think, mon seigneur, I deserve more than an ‘arrangement.’ I know that when you look at me, you see some well-bred mûlatresse whom you can put up in some tower and savor all your forbidden fantasies. I am partly to blame for that delusion. However, despite what transpired between us, I am much more than that. I am no fool. I know a man of your standing would never take me as your bride. But there is a gentleman out there somewhere who will. I will wait for him.”

  He took a moment to answer. When he spoke, it was with quiet determination.

  “I won’t let another man have you, not after touching the fire that blazes inside of you. Not after seeing your capacity to love. To know you is to want you. Is it my fault that I have fallen for your charms? ”

  “You have no say in the matter!”

  She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him.

  “Then why did you give yourself to me? ” he asked. “Do you think this dream man of yours will appreciate the fact that you are no longer intact? ”

  A new and ugly thought occurred to her.

  “Is that why you took me to bed? To lessen my options? ”

  His eyes revealed uncertainty. Should he tell the truth?

  “Yes,” he said. “That was part of it. When I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to have you. Even now, standing near you, my blood boils. I have never had a woman bring this out in me.”

  Her anger was swift. “That is too bad, mon seigneur. Because now that we are clear on your intentions, I am more determined than ever to deny you.” She brushed past him, intent on escaping the space they now shared.

  “Your Madame knows!” he yelled, hoping to stop her from what she was determined to do.

  Zoé froze. She looked back at him, terrified. “What? ”

  “She confronted me.”

  “You told her? ”

  “No, but she has her suspicions.”

  “Mon Dieu!” she whispered.

  “I neither confirmed nor denied it. She has no proof, but you should be prepared in case she questions you.”

  Zoé put a hand to her heart. “This is awful. She will tell Papa, and then…”

  “I shall protect you.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I will not be your slave.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He reached for her, but again she backed away.

  “No!” she said and ran out into the burnt corridor. There, she saw Marianne, cornered by Monsieur Sheridan and looking frightened.

  “Chérie,” Zoé cried. “Are you all right? ”

  Her heart nearly broke at the relief on Marianne’s face.

  “Yes,” said the girl. She sidestepped Sheridan, who flashed Zoé another one of his hateful looks. Ignoring him, Zoé took Marianne’s hand and led her outside. She wanted nothing more than to get away. But outside she stopped. They couldn’t get back by themselves. They needed the men. They were at their mercy.

  She felt dizzy. She let go of Marianne’s hand and put her hands to her head.

  “Zoé? ” Marianne peered at her. “What’s wrong? Are you ill? ”

  Zoé’s thoughts spun. Madame knew. She would tell Father, and then everything would be over.

  Maybe I can deny it, Zoé thought. Madame probably just suspects something, from the flirtation she’s witnessed.

  Breathing hard, she heard Marianne calling her name, but Zoé was too overwhelmed to respond.

  Marianne grabbed Zoé’s arm. “What is wrong with you? ”

  Zoé looked at her through tear-filled eyes. “I don’t feel well,” she whispered, and then turned and vomited on the ground.

  Marianne stepped back, wide-eyed, as Zoé braced herself with her hand against the wall and retched. Zoé’s nerves were so raw and her corset so tight that she could barely catch her breath between waves of nausea. Vaguely, she heard Marianne’s terrified cries.

  “Messieurs! Messieurs! Ma soeur est malade! Please help!”

  Weakened, Zoé sagged against the wall. Then La Roque was there, helping her to her feet. Marianne had to release her hand and watch helpless.

  “Are you all right? ”

  Pale, she wiped at her mouth. “Please take me back,” she whispered.

  La Roque picked her up and carried her to the horses. With her head resting on his broad shoulders, she felt safe. In some ways, this man was even stronger than her father. He could protect her, if he wanted to. She almost laughed at the thought. Protect her? He was more likely to harm her than any man she’d ever known.

  From behind her, she heard Sheridan chuckle and ask Marianne, “Are you sure you want to go back? We can let them go and stay behind.”

  “My sister needs me,” Marianne said.

  Sheridan sighed in a manner that was loud and theatrical, and apparently heartfelt.

  Hearing that, Zoé smiled. Even if she’d failed at protecting herself, she’d at least succeeded, even if only momentarily, in protecting her baby sister.

  EF

  After arriving at the château, La Roque helped Zoé down from the horse. He searched her face for a chance to explain himself further, but she turned away and fled inside. Marianne chased after her sister, leaving both men to watch after them.

  “So are you going to marry Marianne? ” Sheridan asked. “What? ” La Roque replied, still looking after them. “Marianne told me she was spoken for. Didn’t figure you

  for the marrying type,” Sheridan said slapping him on the back. La Roque ignored him and left the horses to his footmen.

  Sheridan followed. “Well, she’s too excitable for me. Now that Negress: I think I might inquire about her. She would fit nicely in my world.”

  La Roque turned on him. “Don’t speak of her. You are not to bother her. Are we clear? ”

  Sheridan frowned. “The Negress? ”

  “I know
that in America you have no regard for les gens de couleur, but in my home you will show respect. If you can’t, then your welcome has just ended.”

  Sheridan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you seriously going to stand before me and defend that… that girl? ”

  La Roque turned back to Sheridan. “I won’t tell you again. Keep away from her.”

  He walked away and Sheridan stared after him, enraged. The plantation owner would not be forced to respect a woman he could have bought and sold. His friend had lost his mind and that haughty Negress needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe he would approach the father and offer a handsome price for her. It would be pleasurable to own her, and it would teach his friend a lesson in manners. Smiling maliciously, he formulated his own plans for Mademoiselle Zoé.

  EF Zoé rapped lightly on the door to Madame’s room and then opened it just wide enough to peek in. She saw Madame lying on the bed with a cloth across her eyes. She took it that Madame was sleeping and started out again, but in that instant, Madame spoke.

  “Enter.” Fear as cold as frost chilled Zoé down to her bones. She stepped inside, closed the door and stood beside it with her hands clasped in front of her. Madame Bouchard sat up in bed and discarded the cloth. She gave her stepdaughter a look of frank contempt, and then pointed to a wicker basket in the corner that held folded laundry.

  “Look at the linen,” Madame Bouchard said. Zoé stared at the basket, her heart now in her throat. She closed her eyes, her worst nightmare confirmed. She would not be humiliated into showcasing her soiled nightclothes and sheets.

  “I can explain, Madame.” Madame Bouchard got out of bed. She walked over to Zoé, who looked at her with pleading eyes. Before Zoé could speak, she felt a blow across her face that knocked her to the floor. Zoé held back her tears as her hair loosened from the barrettes and fell across her face.

  Madame stood over her, glaring down at her. “You whore! I raised you to be a lady, and you disgrace your father and me this way!”

  Zoé looked up. “Madame, please…”

  “Please what? Please don’t tell your father that you are now some man’s slut? That you’re damaged goods? As if the shame of your birth weren’t enough… now this.”