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  “Julien, may we discuss my business proposal? ” asked Sheridan, interrupting La Roque’s thoughts.

  “You mean your attempt to extort money from me? ” Sheridan laughed. “We are friends. Are we not? Closer

  than blood? If I am in need of financial assistance, shouldn’t I come to family? ”

  La Roque smiled grimly. “How much? ”

  Sheridan sat back with an audible sigh of relief. “Like I said earlier, things are sure to change for the Carolinas. We are organized, and ready to take on John Quincy Adams as well as Congress, to nullify the tariffs that have stripped us of our riches. As you know, friend, prosperity comes at a price.” Sheridan walked around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. La Roque regarded him with suspicion. His friend only took the long route to a point when there was another agenda at play. “I am unable to provide for my slaves as well as run the harvesting on what I am producing. Furthermore, the plantation next to mine is to be auctioned off. They weren’t able to survive the death of the father in that family, and his widow is desperate. If I can purchase it and secure labor to work it, I am sure that I can turn it around.”

  “How much? ”

  Sheridan took a seat next to La Roque. “It’s a good deal, Julien, and it will make both of us rich. I just need to be able to purchase and sustain it for a year before you can see a return on the investment.”

  “I will ask you one last time. How much? ”

  Sheridan cleared his throat. “Five thousand American dollars.”

  La Roque laughed. There was no way that a small rice plantation would cost that much. “You can’t be serious!”

  “It’s a fair price and you have to keep in mind that I have to repair my own plantation as well. We suffered rainstorms that have all but ruined my crop.”

  “I can give you three.”

  “Three! What can I do with three? ”

  “It’s all that I will give on this. Consider it a gift, not a loan.”

  “You insult me, sir.”

  La Roque gave Sheridan a cold gaze. “I will remind you of where you are. Control your tone or take your leave.”

  Sheridan reddened with anger. “It’s that girl. Isn’t it? She’s got you all turned around.”

  Now, it was La Roque’s turn to flush. “How dare you! I make no financial decision based on the turn of a skirt. What I have decided, c’est bon sens, simplement. And if the amount is too little for you, then you may go.”

  Sheridan opened his mouth to reply, but Gérard entered the room.

  “Madame Bouchard,” he announced.

  She appeared in a tangerine-colored dress, her red hair pinned up in tight curls. Both men rose when she entered, watching as she took her seat. Sheridan slumped back down in his chair, fuming. La Roque nodded at Madame.

  “Are the girls joining us? ” he asked.

  “Bien sûr,” she said.

  La Roque glanced at Sheridan and saw his smoldering resentment. The count gave an inner shrug. He’d never denied his friend’s request for money before. He wasn’t happy to do so now, but he would. And what little chance Sheridan might’ve had to convince him otherwise was gone. The American had made a foul error in blaming Zoé. Of course, he also didn’t like the way Sheridan looked at her. This was true. But the one had nothing to do with the other. He would never make a business decision based on common jealousy and he was infuriated that Sheridan would accuse him of doing otherwise.

  The girls were announced and entered. La Roque felt his heart lift at the sight of Zoé. She was so breathtakingly beautiful, he had to control the urge to walk over and embrace her. She stood before him in a blue gown with light blue stones interwoven in the corset. Her long dark ringlets were pinned back to set off her lovely face. She wore a teardrop necklace and matching earrings in the same shade of blue. They sparkled when she moved. Marianne was dressed similarly in a soft pastel pink gown, but he barely noticed her.

  Zoé avoided the count’s eyes as she walked to the table and was seated.

  “Are you feeling better this morning? ” he asked.

  “Oui, mon seigneur,” she answered with her head lowered.

  La Roque frowned. The fire that he loved in her had dimmed. She seemed changed to him, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

  Breakfast was served and the tension at the table was thick. Between Zoé’s evasiveness, Sheridan’s anger and Madame’s nervousness, Marianne seemed to be the only one enjoying the conversation. La Roque wished he could reach out to Zoé. He desperately wanted to talk to her, but she gave him no opening. He fell more in love with her as he watched her eat in silence.

  “My husband should be arriving shortly after noon today,” Madame announced.

  “Really? ” Sheridan said, with a noticeable hint of interest in his voice.

  La Roque glanced at him. Why should he care about Bouchard’s arrival? Perhaps, Sheridan hoped that once Bouchard fetched his daughters, then he could once again have La Roque’s full attention and pressure him for more funding.

  Madame nodded. “He will be entertaining Comte La Roque’s offer.”

  Sheridan looked at La Roque with an expression of new comprehension. “So is that why you so rudely dismissed me this morning? ”

  Infuriated, La Roque slammed his fist on the table. “Enough!”

  Zoé looked up, as did Marianne and Madame. Sheridan stood, excused himself and stormed out. He paused just long enough to give Zoé his now familiar glare. She paled, her face showing confusion—and a new sense of fear.

  A moment of stunned silence followed Sheridan’s departure. Then Madame Bouchard cleared her throat.

  “Mon seigneur,” she said, “Zoé has something that she would like to discuss with you.”

  La Roque raised a surprised eyebrow. Marianne looked puzzled, then fearful. Her eyes darted between her mother and Zoé, who put on a small smile. Madame rose and grabbed Marianne’s hand. “Come. We will leave them alone.”

  Baffled, La Roque watched them leave, and then returned his gaze to Zoé. She remained at the other end of the table, looking into her plate.

  “Will you speak at last, and tell me what’s on your heart? ” he asked.

  Struggling to find her voice, she raised her head and looked straight ahead. “I was told that you intend to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage today.”

  “Mais non!” he said, both surprised and relieved. If her sadness was due to this simple misconception, then it should be easily remedied.

  But to his great dismay, Zoé turned to him and said, with even deeper sadness, “Oh, but you will, mon seigneur.”

  “I will do what? ”

  “Ask for her hand. And I…” Zoé choked on her words and closed her eyes.

  “You will what? ” Frowning with worry, he leaned on the table with hands clasped.

  “I shall stay behind as her Abigail… and your mistress.”

  “What on earth are you talking about? ”

  Zoé stared at him for a moment. “I am talking about the best of both worlds for you. A beautiful bride to give you an heir and a whore to warm your bed!”

  His heart sank at the bitterness in her voice. “But I don’t want you to be my whore.”

  “I am already. You yourself said so. Don’t you remember? ”

  “I never said—”

  “I think your exact words were, ‘Would my dream suitor want me knowing that I am no longer intact?’ Isn’t that right? ”

  He shook his head. “No, this is not an arrangement that I shall abide by.”

  “It is the only one being offered. Any other would break my father’s heart, and I won’t let that happen to him again. I care less what you do to me. I just want to keep my family’s honor intact.”

  Looking into her full brown eyes, with sweeping lashes, he saw her resolve.

  “You hate me,” he said.

  “I feel nothing for you. I guess I am more like Marcela than I thought.”

  He blew out
a frustrated breath, stung by her last comment. Seeing her harden herself for a fate not of her own choosing made him ache with regret. He had never wanted to hurt her, but by trying to possess her, he had done exactly that.

  “I shall speak to your father and clear this up. The offer I was to make was to ask for you, as my maîtresse, but I have no intention of marrying anyone.”

  Zoé shook her head. “Therein lies the problem. I won’t have it. I won’t let him be hurt by my actions. I won’t have him humiliated in front of you. He will think that this is my choice. I will convince him of that. I just ask that you make sure that he’s well taken care of.”

  “But I only want you, Zoé. Only you.”

  “And that is all you care about, isn’t it? What you want.”

  He felt reduced under her words, realizing the truth in them, but he couldn’t find words to answer her.

  “Look at it this way,” she continued. “You shall have me. I will not fight your advances any longer. You shall finally have your mistress.”

  She pushed away from the table and rose. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for my father’s arrival.”

  “Zoé, wait.”

  La Roque got up, went to her and took her hand. “If I withdraw my offer to your father and let you leave, will that give you back what you lost? ”

  She shook her head. “I have nothing to offer a husband. Madame reminded me of that. If my father tries to pair me off, and my suitor discovers our secret, then he will be ruined. If you don’t accept my offer, then I will be forced to tell Papa the truth, and I will probably be sent to America to experience a worse fate. So it is up to you, mon seigneur, because I no longer care what happens to me.” She withdrew her hand from his and went out.

  La Roque ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. He couldn’t let her go, but to keep her this way would be worse than losing her. It would be destroying her. He wanted her heart more than anything, and now he had done the very thing that would steal it away from him. Furious, he kicked over a chair. He couldn’t decide who he was angrier with, himself for falling in love or her for bewitching him the way she had.

  EF

  Walking with her head down, Zoé hurried away from the salon. She wasn’t in the mood for Madame and Marianne now. She needed to gather her strength in order to stand before Papa and lie. How could she tell the man that she respected more than anything in this world that she had no respect for herself? That all she wanted out of life was to wait on her sister. How on Earth could she sell him that lie?

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the stealthy footsteps behind her. Before she knew what was happening, someone had grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a room to the left of the corridor.

  It was Sheridan.

  Pushing her inside, he slammed the door. Zoé fell across the arm of a sofa. Breathless with shock, she straightened up and brushed aside the hair that had fallen across her face.

  “What is this? ” she asked, her thoughts racing and her gaze shifting between him and the door.

  “It’s about that apology you owe me,” he said, advancing toward her.

  She ran around the table, using it to block him. “I will ask that you leave me at once or I shall scream.”

  Sheridan laughed. “You scream and I will tell dear old pappy the truth about his nigger whore of a daughter.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “What? ”

  “You heard me. If you can give yourself to Julien, why not me? ”

  He licked his lips and moved around the sofa. Zoé backed away. Her heart raced and the tears that she’d vowed to hold back now fell from her lashes. She didn’t know what to do. He crept toward her. She took two more steps back, pinning herself against the wall behind her.

  “Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this.”

  “Now it’s please, eh? Before, you sneered at me and disrespected me. Give me my apology!”

  He made a grab for her. She slipped around the side of the sofa and made a dash for the door, but he caught hold of her long curls and yanked her back. She screamed in pain and terror. He clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped an arm around her waist. She fought and kicked, to no avail. He was stronger, much stronger, and emboldened by malice. Standing behind her, he whispered into her ear, his voice filled with lust.

  “I will say you are a tasty dish.”

  He licked her cheek and forced a hand down the front of her tight corset.

  “No,” she whimpered and squirmed to avoid his rough probing.

  He yanked her around and shook her. “Don’t you tell me no! Don’t you ever dare utter those words to a white man!”

  He slapped her. She fell across a table, her hip connecting painfully with the hard wood edge. The heavy brass candelabra on the table fell and she grabbed it and held it out in front of her. Her hair hanging in her face, she breathed through it and tried to focus on defending herself.

  Sheridan laughed. “Are you really going to fight me on this? Exactly what are you protecting? You’re lower than a common street walker.”

  “That very well may be, but even the lowest wretch of a woman would bite through her wrist and rip open her own veins rather than allow herself to be touched by a pathetic scoundrel like you!”

  “I shall teach you something about respect!”

  He lunged for her. She swung the candelabra and felt it connect with his shoulder. He roared in pain, knocked the candelabra from her hand and grabbed her by the throat. Forcing her back against the table, he put both hands around her throat and squeezed. She clawed at his hands, twisting and kicking, but couldn’t loosen his grip. She felt her vision darken. On the verge of slipping away, she realized that his hand was under her petticoats.

  Zoé thought of her maman, of how strong Capucine had been, and how it would’ve broken her heart to see her daughter die this way. Without thinking, she prayed, “Help me, Maman! Please, help me.”

  For a moment, there was nothing, just the deepening dusk of her dying vision. Then a wave of strength surged through her. She gave one last mighty kick. Her knee connected with the soft underparts of Sheridan’s manhood and he gave a guttural cry.

  Then his touch was gone. She dropped to the floor. As from a distance, she heard the sound of a struggle.

  Blinking through tears and gasping for breath, she found the strength to sit up, and was stunned at what she saw.

  La Roque had Sheridan pinned to the floor, pummeling him with blow after blow. Sheridan had his hands up, trying to protect himself, and begging for mercy, but La Roque kept inflicting his powerful punches.

  “Arrêtez! Arrêtez!” Zoé cried. “You will kill him! Stop!” Zoé ran to the count and grabbed his arm.

  Feeling her touch, La Roque lowered his bloodied fist. He got to his feet, took another look at Sheridan and gave him a kick for good measure. The plantation owner rolled over on one side, coughing up blood. La Roque dismissed him with an expression of contempt, turned to Zoé and pulled her into his arms.

  “Did he…? ” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “Are you hurt, Chérie? ”

  “No.” she said as she shook her head and held onto him.

  He cupped her face and brought it to his to see if she were truly unharmed. She gazed up at him, her heart grateful. With a sigh, he crushed her to him and kissed her, pouring all of his desperate longing and fear of losing her into his embrace. They heard Sheridan scuttle out of the room and ignored him.

  Zoé held tightly to the count’s neck and kissed him back. His embrace felt like the safest place in the world. He had saved her life and defended her honor. No man other than her father had ever gone to such lengths to protect her.

  La Roque lowered one arm and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “So very sorry that you were hurt.”

  She ran her fingers through his long mane, savoring his affection. She could feel his sense of guilt and regret. But more than that, she felt his need and desire a
nd knew that she wanted him just as badly. He was her prince, and he had slain the dragon. His gallant efforts had won her over and had awakened a sense of not only gratitude, but also adoration. These feelings only made her more aware of her heart’s desires. She was in love with him and she could no longer deny it.

  La Roque walked her backward. She found herself between him and the wall. At first his kiss was soft and apologetic. She quivered under the sweet tenderness, and her passion, mixed with his, grew. There was a dreamy intimacy in the kiss they shared, a kiss so intoxicating that she lost her head. When he buried his face against her throat, he left her mouth burning for more. Summoning what little resistance she had left, she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed at him.

  “I can’t. My father will be here soon,” she panted.

  He blinked and she could sense the fever leave him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, smoothing her long ringlet curls.

  “This is my fault. I should never have—”

  “Shh,” she said as she hushed him with fingertips on his lips. “I am not hurt. This is not your fault.”

  His gaze scanned every inch of her. It was as if he was trying to impress every bit of her image on his mind. It was the look of someone who feared losing someone that was so dear to him.

  He took her hand and they turned to go. They paused, however, at the sight of the blood smears on the floor. She could feel the count’s rage coming back.

  “He will be made to answer for this,” La Roque said. “I will call him out publicly for violating your honor.”

  “Non, you can’t!” she cried, grabbing his arm.

  “Why not? ”

  “He knows. He is threatening to tell Father. Please. I don’t want my father to know.” She blinked back tears.

  “Zoé…”

  “Please, honor our agreement. Give me this much, for it will kill him to know what has become of me. I beg you.” She waited for his answer, openly fearful.

  “To listen to you beg me for this,” he said, “makes me feel like a monster.”