Deceive Not My Heart (10 page)

Hearing no more sounds from the room, Leonie took another look and seeing the empty room, felt her spirits rise. At last, her moment had come!
Grand-pere's
gaming losses for tonight were as good as hers!

Holding her breath, she cautiously tested the window and to her delight discovered that it was unlocked. Slowly she pushed it open and then silently, her heart pounding in her breast, she nimbly climbed into the room.

She let out her breath in a small gasp as she realized she had to walk past the open doorway where she could see the governor and the general still talking. For a minute she stared at the two men. The governor acting strangely, his face contorting as if in great pain, but the fat man seemed unconcerned.

Tearing her eyes away from the scene in the next room, she crossed her fingers and quick as a cat she slipped passed the doorway. No cry of discovery followed her and with legs that trembled she hurried to the governor's desk. With fingers shaking so badly she could barely control them, she snatched up the pile of papers and stuffed them into her reticule.

Elation shot through her body. She
had
the vouchers! A grin beginning to curve her mouth, she had just started towards the window when, to her horror, she heard someone approaching the door that was between her and her avenue of escape.

Terrified she looked around for a place to hide. There was nothing to hide behind, and giving into sheer panic, she bolted out the door by the governor's desk into the main hallway of the house.

Her eyes wide with apprehension, her heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, and the reticule clutched tightly in her hands, Leonie glanced wildly about, seeking either escape or a hiding place. Neither appeared immediately at hand.

Being in a long corridor and afraid to stay there, she took off in what she hoped was the direction that would lead her to the rear of the house. Her feet made no sound as she scampered down the carpeted hallway; the light from the candles in the carved and painted wall sconces guided her way. The hallway seemed to go on forever with turnings this way and that, until Leonie was thoroughly disoriented.

Mon Dieu! I am lost inside the governor's residence,
she thought with a nervous, frightened giggle. She finally stopped her headlong rush, some modicum of common sense returning.

Think, Leonie, think!
she told herself.
How are you to get out?
She had passed several shut doors but was reluctant to see what was on the other side, for obvious reasons. And yet she dared not stay forever in the middle of the governor's hall.

The sound of an opening door behind her decided the question. Without thinking, her mouth dry as dust, Leonie simply leaped blindly through the doorway of the room nearest her.
Pray God it is empty,
she thought earnestly.

Chapter 5

It wasn't. But Leonie didn't know that as she stood with her back against the door, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.

The room was in darkness, a pitch-black gloom meeting Leonie's gaze. She let her breath out in a long, shuddering sigh, giving up a small prayer of thankfulness that her luck had held and she had found herself in an empty room. An empty room with a pair of French doors, which seemed to offer an avenue of escape. She had just taken one step towards the doors when a man's voice froze her in her tracks.

"I was wondering if Gayoso had forgotten about me," Morgan said lazily as he reached out to touch Leonie, thinking she was the woman that Gayoso had offered.

Sleep had been the only thought on Morgan's mind when he had entered his room, but after stripping off his evening clothes and lying naked on the bed in the darkness, he had found his thoughts straying down a forbidden path. Stephanie's face swam in front of his eyes, her mouth laughing at him, her body taunting him, and then horrifyingly, Phillippe's dead form was suddenly there before him. With a curse, he had risen from the bed and slipped on his black velvet robe.

A stiff brandy from the decanter on a small table near the French doors did little to soothe the ache in his heart or to calm his anger against his dead wife. With a vicious movement he poured another brandy and swallowed it swiftly, the slow burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat helping to drive out the unwanted memories.

Sleep was impossible and needing some way to vent the bitter emotions that ate at his vitals, he wished for the first time that he had told Gayoso to send a woman. A woman had caused his pain; another woman could give him temporary oblivion.

He had just set the brandy snifter down and had walked across the room to put on some clothes and go in search of company, when Leonie had entered the room. Morgan had no clear picture of her, just a glimpse of tawny hair and a firm bosom bursting from the confines of the dark gown she wore. It was enough, though, in his present state of mind—whores did have their uses, he thought cynically as he walked towards the woman and had spoken the words that sent Leonie's heart leaping in her throat.

Precisely what he had meant, Leonie wasn't certain—she only knew she wanted out of this room and out of the governor's residence
immediately!
Clutching the reticule tightly in her hand, she made a desperate attempt to bluff her way clear. Stammering in her nervousness, she blurted out, "Oh!
M-m-monsieur,
y-y-you frightened me! I-I-I think I must be in the wrong room. I-I-I shall leave at once."

Morgan's hand reached out of the darkness and lightly touched Leonie's shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. He felt the start she gave and he laughed softly, "Don't be nervous,
petite,
I won't hurt you. And believe me, if Gayoso sent you, you
are
in the right room." He started to turn away from a paralyzed Leonie, saying, "Let me light a candle so we have some idea who we're talking to."

Leonie's strangled,
"Don't!"
stopped him instantly.

Swinging back to her in the darkness, he put his hands on either side of her shoulders and murmured softly, "Well, that's fine with me, if you prefer it." His voice suddenly growing husky at the memory of the sight of those tempting white breasts above her gown, he said, "You prefer to remain a mystery woman, then?"

Leonie swallowed painfully, too conscious of the man in front of her and of his hands that could so easily hold her prisoner. Still fencing for time, still not quite certain where this curious conversation was leading, she muttered, "Believe me,
monsieur,
I am a mystery woman, and I shall always be one. If
monsieur
will allow me, I—" Leonie had intended to inform Morgan that she would leave, but Morgan wasn't interested in talking and his mouth found hers.

Leonie's mouth was soft with surprise and astonishment as Morgan's lips slowly explored hers, but then as the impact of what he was doing exploded through her brain, she jerked her head back and burst out with a shocked,
"Monsieur!
What do you think you are doing?"

If Gayoso hadn't implied he would send a woman to his room, if Morgan's head had been clear of the alcohol he had consumed during the evening, and if he hadn't just been thinking of his dead wife, the fact that this woman was acting oddly for a whore might have occurred to him. But as it was, he was certain she was merely playing a game with him, teasing him for her own purposes, and jerking her into his arms he said against her mouth, "I think we've wasted long enough on the introductions. Remain a mystery if you wish, but for God's sake quit acting so damned coy!"

Leonie didn't have time to give her indignant reply, for Morgan's mouth came down on hers once more and this time there was no escape, his lips ruthlessly parting hers as his tongue, like a dart of flame, plundered her unprepared mouth. Stunned by the intimacy of the kiss—nothing in her life, so far, having given her any indication that this was the way of a man with a woman—Leonie stood momentarily motionless, her hands trapped between their bodies. She had never had this close contact with a man before in her life, and as Morgan's mouth possessed hers, his hands holding her prisoner against him, she became conscious of a number of things about a man. For one thing, he was infinitely stronger than a woman, which she discovered instantly when she tried to free herself from this unwelcome embrace; for another, he smelled faintly of tobacco and brandy, and for another, soft hair grew on his muscled chest—she could feel it brushing her breasts where they rose above her gown.

As this stranger in this darkened room of the governor's residence hungrily possessed Leonie's mouth, his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her even closer to his warm body, and his other hand slid up her neck, his fingers deftly undoing the pins that held the tawny mane captive. Released from its confines the bright hair cascaded down around her shoulders, and leaving her mouth for a moment, the man buried his face in the sweet-smelling strands of hair.

"Lovely, lovely," he murmured into the soft curls, his hand gently, persuasively kneading her neck. His lips traveling back across her cheek, searching for her mouth, he muttered, "Jesus! Am I grateful that Gayoso sent you to me! Come along, sweetheart, let's see just how pleasantly we can spend the rest of the evening."

Most of what this unknown man said made little sense to Leonie, and she was so frightened and bewildered by what was happening that for just a few minutes she had been paralyzed with shock, her brain numb with fear. But when he suddenly swept her up in his arms and began to carry her across the room, she was instantly galvanized with terror and determination.
"Non!
Monsieur put me down! There is some mistake... you do not understand," she cried, some of her fear evaporating as her ready temper rose.

The man laughed. "The only mistake,
petite,
would be if I didn't do precisely what I intend to. And the only thing I don't understand is why you persist in this game." He kissed her hard on the mouth and added, "But it is a delightful game; play it if you wish."

The darkness of the room hid their features from one another, Leonie was aware only that the man was tall and strong, his skin was warm to her touch, and his voice was cultured and deep. A pleasing voice, she would have thought under different circumstances, but just now, when one of his hands strayed to her breasts and took shocking liberties, she was both frightened and furious. As for Morgan, he had an advantage over Leonie—he had seen a brief glimpse of her hair and body before she had entered the room, though he had no idea what her face looked like. She was soft, she was small, and the feel of her in his arms was incredibly desirable, his body hardening as she struggled against him.

One hand slipped inside the neckline of her gown and, finding her nipple his fingers gently rolled and caressed it, the feel of a man's hand on her breast sending an odd quiver through Leonie's entire body.
"Mon Dieu!"
she gasped. "What are you doing to me?"

Morgan laughed, and leaving her nipple his fingers were suddenly busy with the fastenings of her gown. Before Leonie guessed what he was about, she discovered her gown was being swiftly and efficiently taken off.

Everything was happening too fast for her to comprehend; new emotions were fighting with the urge to escape and the fear of discovery. She was frightened, she was angry, and she was being plunged into sensations she wasn't prepared for. And being Leonie she reacted the only way she knew how—she fought.

Unfortunately, her opponent was too intent upon possessing the firm young body that strained against his to question her struggles and he was far too strong to be stopped by her frantic thrashing and poundings. His robe had joined her gown and chemise on the floor by the bed and in a matter of seconds his hard warm body was pressed intimately against Leonie's.

For Leonie it was a disturbing experience. She was frightened, she was furious, her emotions were in a jumble—one part of her curious at her body's reactions to the intimacies this strange man was taking, another part of her horrified and repulsed, and yet another part strangely aroused by his touch.

What precisely went on between a man and a woman had never been explained to Leonie. Who had there ever been to tell her—the cook at Chateau Saint-Andre? Her grandfather? But that didn't mean she didn't have some idea what was happening. She had grown up exploring the swamps near Chateau Saint-Andre and she had seen the spring matings of the animals that inhabited the watery woodlands, as well as the procreation of the livestock at the plantation. But that scant knowledge did nothing to prepare her for what this stranger was doing to her.