Patricia Rice (37 page)

"But Raphael has not come to claim her, and his brother refuses to do so. What other choice does she have? Isabel doesn't have the household to present her to society as she deserves, and I am not in a position to do so unless she is married to you. It is the best thing for both of you, and you know it. I do not fool myself into thinking that you do this for me."

Nicholas saw the hurt in his mother's eyes before she turned away. It did not seem possible. He had seen his father slap her until she fell to the ground, but when she got up again, the only thing visible on her face would be her pride. He had never seen her weep. Occasionally there had been cries of pain, but never when he was in a state to do anything about it.

"I do this for you as much as for anyone," he replied wearily. "I cannot think of any other good reason to do it. You will have the daughter you never had. You can present Gabriella to society. You can win back all your respectability, gain Madame Dupré's approval, go to balls again. I will leave all that to you,
maman
, for I have no patience with it. I will be going back to the plantation as soon as this is over."

"You will have to take her with you for a while, Nicholas. It is expected."
 
Hélène clasped her hands in her lap and watched Nicholas pace the room.
 

He grimaced with distaste and looked away at her words. "I am not a young man, and I have been married before. I don't think the tradition of keeping us locked in our room for a week after the ceremony is called for in this instance. Gabriella is quite likely to pass out from fear. You can be assured I will treat her with all respect due to a wife, but do not expect more. She would be better off remaining here with you."

"Not if the British are coming, Nicholas," she whispered in defiance.

And as if to seal the hands of fate, Michael barged through the doorway, his cheeks ruddy from his run, his hair wind-blown. "Claiborne has sent a fleet against Barataria. They're shelling the island right now!"

Chapter 31

Eavin had no warning at all. Or perhaps she had dozens of warnings and heeded none of them. She certainly didn't think it when the carriage arrived and Nicholas escorted the young girl and his mother toward the stairs. Actually, she cursed the presence of company now that Nicholas had finally returned home. She was so glad to see his face again that she wanted to dive into his arms and make a spectacle of herself, but by waiting on the women below, Nicholas gave her time to compose herself.

She was grateful for that composure a while later when they entered the house. Gabriella clung to Nicholas's arm, looking thoroughly unsure of herself as she glanced around the wide hallway as if she had never seen it before.
 
Hélène busied herself with her bonnet and ordering Hattie about. It was Nicholas to whom Eavin turned, and the dead look in his eyes told her more than she wanted to know.

"Eavin, you remember Gabriella, Francine's cousin. We were married this morning, and I think she is a little tired from the journey. Could you send Clemmie to take her into my chamber?"

It was cruel. He had known it would be. But there was no kind way of telling her. Nicholas watched as Eavin paled and the golden glow on her face disappeared. There would be accusations in those wide eyes shortly, but right now he saw only pain, extreme pain. He held his breath, waiting for that Irish temper to explode. After the torments of hell he'd suffered this day, he almost craved the outburst.
 

But Eavin was stronger than he had believed. Life had taken the softness out of her. He had known that and counted on it. She wasn't one to faint or cry or have the vapors. Eavin would carve his heart out with her teeth, but at the time of her own choosing.

"What a charming surprise." Her voice was flat and uninterested as she turned to Gabriella. "I had no idea you were Francine's cousin. Does that makes us cousins-in-law? Do come with me, I'll see that you get some rest."

Nicholas didn't realize he was holding his breath until he watched Eavin leading Gabriella down the hallway to the newly redecorated master suite. Grinding his teeth, he swung to confront his mother. She met his glare calmly and removed her gloves. Not daring to speak, Nicholas stalked off to his study and the brandy he desperately needed.

He waited for Eavin to seek him out. He could hear the accusations ringing in his ears before she spoke them. He knew his arguments well—he'd rehearsed them a thousand times—but they sounded weak even to him in the face of Eavin's anguish. The brandy wasn't making his tongue any smoother. He would have to talk fast if he meant to make her understand. And he had to make her understand. To contemplate the alternative was to drive a stake through his heart.

That was a damned fool thing for a sensible man to think. He had one argument that Eavin couldn't refute.
 

Ignoring his mother's call from the salon, Nicholas strode up the stairs in the direction of the nursery. Eavin wouldn't argue in front of Jeannette. He could make his case heard before she tore into him. Eavin would understand once she heard him out. She might not speak to him for a week. He would no doubt have to seduce her all over again. But in the end she would understand. He had to believe that. To believe otherwise would be to doubt all that he had begun to trust between them, and he desperately needed her trust.

The nursery was empty. Disbelieving, Nicholas scanned the room; then with growing fear he stalked toward the next chamber. That door was closed, but he could hear voices from within. Reassured, he opened Eavin's door.

The one pitiful trunk with which she had arrived was already full. She still wore the light summer gown she had been wearing when he arrived, a gown totally unsuitable for traveling, but Nicholas didn't mistake her intentions. The feral gleam in her emerald eyes as they looked right through him was sufficient to gauge the extent of her fury.

"Clemmie, get out of here," Nicholas ordered. The already rattled black maid eagerly complied.

Eavin slammed the trunk closed and began to fasten the various latches.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Eavin gave him a scathing look. "Away." She turned to the small chest of drawers at the side of the table and began to search for any items left behind.

The drawers were already empty. It was amazing that in the year and a half since she had been here she had accumulated so little. Seeing the empty drawers that had once spilled with the fragile laces and scents of sachets he had given her, Nicholas felt a band tighten around his chest.

"Not in my lifetime." He stepped forward, slamming the door shut and reaching for the trunk on the floor.

Eavin swirled and hit him squarely in the midsection with a punch. For a woman, she packed a powerful wallop, but Nicholas only grunted and caught her wrist. With a movement as quick as a cat's, she brought her knee up and missed his groin by a fraction when he anticipated her reaction and stepped backward.

"You aren't even giving me a chance," he growled, pushing her toward the bed, where he could hold her trapped against the frame.

"I gave you everything I had, and you didn't even have the decency to warn me. Let go of me, Nicholas, or I will scream the house down."

"Scream. There is nothing anyone can do. You will hear me out first."

"I'll see you in hell first." Twisting, Eavin sank her teeth into the hand holding hers captive.

Not even attempting to free his hand, Nicholas used it to push her backward into the feather mattress. Clouds of mosquito netting flew up and settled around them, and Eavin screamed more in fury than fear.

"I'll kill you for this, Nicholas! Get off. Let me up this instant." She kicked and squirmed in a vain attempt to throw him off.

"Not until you listen to reason." His sudden arousal infuriated him as much as her refusal to listen. She was walking out on him as if they were nothing to each other, and he wanted her so badly he couldn't stand up even if he wanted to.

"Listening to your reasons is what got me into this! Now get the hell off before your precious new wife hears us. Nicholas, stop that!" Eavin screeched in anguish as his kisses found their mark on her throat. "It will be a cold day in hell afore I'm lettin' the likes of you touch me again, Nicholas Saint-Just! Get your blasphemous hands off me!"

"
Mon dieu
, you are a vicious witch! Get your claws out of me! You're not going anywhere, do you understand? Marriage changes nothing!"

Below, the cry of rage those words produced caused even
 
Hélène to flinch. When she looked up to find the frail figure of Gabriella standing frightened in the hall, she straightened her shoulders.

"Go back to your room, child. I'll take care of this."
 
Hélène advanced toward the bottom of the stairs.

"Will he hurt her?" Gabriella pulled her robe more tightly closed, her fear evident in the whitening of her knuckles.

"He already has." Without another word of explanation she proceeded upward.

When first
 
Hélène entered, she thought her son was strangling his mistress, but it soon became evident that the two of them were locked in an equal battle of wills. Eavin was smaller, with much less strength, but Nicholas was forced to hold back his own greater size to prevent harming her.
 
Hélène gathered air into her lungs to override their shouts.

"Nicholas!"

Both combatants jumped guiltily. Eavin's frantic struggles ceased in embarrassment. Nicholas looked down into her flushed face stained with tears and had the urge to gather her into his arms. She would take his hide off first. Keeping her trapped between his body and the bed, Nicholas answered with annoyance.

"Get out of here,
maman
. You have caused enough trouble. This is between myself and Eavin."

"And the entire household. Get up from there and be sensible. Mrs. Dupré, you cannot think of leaving the child. I would suggest that you have your trunk removed to the
garçonnière
along with Jeannette's belongings. Gabriella is much too young to know how to take care of an infant, and I'm certain she wouldn't dream of separating you from your niece. Nicholas, you had best go calm your wife. She will no doubt be in a state of hysterics shortly."

Satisfied that the battle had been brought to a standstill,
 
Hélène spun on her heel and walked off.

Studying Eavin's face to be certain she would not rip out his eyes, Nicholas slowly rose, giving her the freedom to do the same. She wouldn't look at him but angrily wiped her face with the back of her hands.

"I will send one of the men to carry the trunk. You will need to make changes. The rooms have been neglected. When I find Annie, I'll send her and Jeannette to you." Nicholas spoke stiffly, choosing his words by her lack of reaction.

Eavin said nothing, merely turned away, her cheeks flushed with shame.

Nicholas had the overwhelming urge to cry. The need to do so had been beaten out of him a long time ago and he did not give in to it now, but the pain ached. She was so proud and beautiful, and he had brought her down to this. Why had it never occurred to him that humiliation was more powerful than logic?

There was nothing that could be said to make it better. Understanding that much, Nicholas walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

Eavin didn't join them for dinner. Nicholas kept close watch on her through the servants to be certain she went no farther than the bachelor's quarters, but he stayed out of her way otherwise. She couldn't stay silent forever. Sometime she would unleash that formidable tongue. That would be his chance to make her see reason.

His original idea of building another house seemed more logical now. Eavin wouldn't accept the idea of his building one for her, but he could build a new one. He'd contemplated the idea for some time now, even had a location chosen. Once it was done, he would turn this house over to Eavin. She would see the suitability of it. This house was too small for entertaining, but it would be just right for Eavin and Jeannette. And for himself, once things were settled. Gabriella would be content to play house in a brand-new structure she could decorate to her heart's desire.

Once she learned how to run a household. At dinner, Nicholas glared at the burned concoction on his plate. The servants were declaring their allegiance to Eavin. He remembered a time before Eavin when he had eaten this kind of slop daily. Francine had been too delicate to attend to the kitchen as she ought. And Gabriella was too young and frightened to establish her authority.
 

Nicholas rang for someone to take the unpalatable plate away. A crash on the backstairs was the only response.
 
Hélène raised her eyebrows and rose to go in search of the culprits. Nicholas groaned inwardly. Of a certainty, his mother would use this opportunity to make herself at home. The new house would have to contain a wing just for her.

He turned his attention to his new bride.

He would have to quit thinking of her as a child. He had seen Gabriella's birth date on the marriage records. She would be eighteen shortly. Beneath the gauzy frills of her gown he could see the curve of small breasts. She had much the same sort of figure as Francine: long and delicate, with fragile bones and little flesh. He had thought that the mark of a lady once. Perhaps it was, but it wasn't the promise of a woman.