Wild legacy (39 page)

Etienne did not understand how, but the fall weather was still warm enough for a picnic, and wanting to be alone with Dominique no matter what the excuse, he agreed to give it a try. "Perhaps you could influence her to accept my invitation."

"Of course. You're our guest. She'll be obliged to entertain you. Just don't give her a reason to slap you again."

"I know better now," Etienne promised, but he was not absolutely convinced that he truly did.

Because both of Arielle's daughters were more slender than they had been when they'd had their last gowns made, she decided to check their measurements before sending for the seamstress. When she discovered Belle's waistline had not decreased like Dominique's but was an inch and a quarter larger, she measured her again and then made a note of the figure. She could think of only one reason a young woman might lose weight but expand in the waist, but chose not to confront her. She had been pregnant with Beau when she had wed Byron, so had good reason to be an understanding mother.

"Your father was rather vague about the date," Arielle remarked. "But let's not rely upon Falcon's progress to schedule such an important event. If we have the wedding here rather than in town, we can help him down the stairs,

and in two weeks he should be able to stand long enough to repeat his vows. Would you like that?"

Because her clothing was all looser now, Belle had not noticed the increase in her waist measurement until her mother had written it down. She had then prayed Arielle would not realize there was such a difference. Although elated to be able to have the wedding in just two weeks' time, she tried to appear merely pleased.

"Yes. That's more than enough time to complete our gowns, but I don't want anything too elaborate. It would be unseemly now."

"The war will be over one day," Arielle reminded her, "but your memories of your wedding will last a lifetime. You shall have the most beautiful dress in all of Williamsburg, and Dominique's will be lovely as well."

Dominique had already pulled on her gown and adjusted the lace at the sleeves. "I only wore my pale blue gown once," she proposed. "Why don't I wear it again? No one in the family will remember it, and it will save us the expense."

Dominique had become so practical since her return from South Carolina that Arielle was continually amazed. "I do remember that dress. Try it on to make certain it still looks new before you make your decision. If you want to wear it again, you may, but there is no need to worry about the cost of a new gown."

"Well, perhaps it is high time that we began to worry," Dominique replied. "There will be enough flowers in the garden to fill the house, and as always plenty of delicious food, but we ought to hire musicians."

"I doubt Falcon will be able to dance," Belle said, "but that doesn't mean everyone else shouldn't. Do you suppose Etienne knows how to dance?"

Afraid her distress would show in her expression, Dominique strolled over to the window before replying. "He told me he'd only be with us a couple of days."

Falcon had repeated his conversation with Etienne, and although eager to help the Frenchman, Belle attempted to sound nonchalant. "Well, he's changed his mind," she informed her sister.

Dominique listened with growing alarm as Belle described Etienne's desire to remain with them until the wedding. "How very thoughtful of him," she replied.

"Yes," Belle enthused. She donned her gown and stood still while her mother laced up the bodice. "We do owe him a great deal. Falcon doesn't want him to feel obligated to help him, though. He would like him to be treated as a guest. Do you suppose you might invite him out for a picnic tomorrow?"

Unaware of her daughter's intentions," Arielle raised her brows. "The last time you girls went for a picnic, you were gone for weeks."

Dominique's mouth had suddenly gone dry, and she sounded hoarse when she spoke. "There's so much to do with your wedding in just two weeks. I doubt I'll have the time."

"Make the time," Belle encouraged. "You've not had a bit of fun lately, and you've told me yourself you find Etienne charming."

At last perceiving Belle's intentions, Arielle also encouraged her daughter. "We've always entertained our guests with whatever amusements we could, but I fear we are dreadfully out of practice. I imagine if given the opportunity, Etienne could tell you some exciting stories. He served with Lafayette, and perhaps was with him at Valley Forge."

Dominique's mouth fell agape. "He knows the Marquis de Lafayette?"

"Yes. Didn't he tell you?" Arielle frowned slightly, then thought it an advantage that the young man had not bragged to Dominique about his exploits. "He appears to be modest, which is another point in his favor."

Dominique felt trapped. After the calamitous tour of the

tobacco fields, in which Etienne had had the audacity to compare her unfavorably to a whore, she had vowed never to entertain another guest. He was, of course, the same guest, and that awful morning now seemed a long while ago.

"I fear I'm not nearly as good at entertaining our guests as I used to be," she admitted unhappily. "I doubt I can summon the necessary enthusiasm anymore."

Arielle caressed her daughter's cheek. "Etienne does not strike me as the type who would be drawn to superficial charm so you need not worry. Just go and have a pleasant picnic and talk with him. Speak French. Peel apples in a single strip. Just be happy again, cherie. You deserve to be."

Dominique was not certain she could even remember how that felt, but after rushing up to her room directly after supper to avoid having to speak with Etienne, she marshalled the necessary courage to accompany him on a picnic the following day. After all, what could possibly happen under the sunny autumn skies? she asked herself, but when he took her hand as they left the house, she began to fear that she knew.

"Falcon told me the fishing was good upriver, but I did not really believe that you would want to fish," Etienne said.

Grateful that he recognized her tastes were nothing like Belle's even if Falcon didn't, Dominique began to relax. "Thank you. I would rather do almost anything than fish."

Etienne laughed at her unintentional humor. "Then I will assume that you like being with me better than fishing."

Dominique felt breathless although he was thoughtfully gauging the length of his step to hers. She had always loved parties, but she could remember the girls who had hidden in the shadowed corners and merely watched the others dance. She had never understood what it meant to be shy until last summer when her whole life had been turned in-

side out and nothing she had ever done had made any sense since then.

"I used to be such an amusing companion," she confided suddenly, "but now I think I was merely too foolish to understand there is more to life than knowing the latest dance."

Dominique had given Etienne a timid smile when they had set out that morning. He had expected to have to coax her into going on a picnic, but she had been waiting for him, all prepared. He would have to thank Falcon and Belle for that, but for the moment he was concerned only with Dominique. He could feel her drawing away from him although her hand still lay in his. He did not want to rush her again, but it was so difficult to contain his own emotions, he did not know if he could adequately assess hers.

"You are the very best of companions," he argued. "You have told me what is in your heart, and I have behaved very badly. You have every right to be sad, and I should never have compared you to a woman who must be paid for her favors. That was not just insulting, it was mean and I never asked your forgiveness. Will you forgive me now?"

Dominique had to move in front of him for a moment as the path narrowed around a poplar, but when they could again walk hand in hand, she thanked him. "Yes. Of course, I will. I think we were both at fault that day."

"No. Absolutely not. I should never have spoken so crossly to you, and then later, I fear I did something even worse."

Dominique could not imagine what he meant. "I didn't even see you later. Well, perhaps for a moment at the docks, but surely you can't be referring to that."

Etienne recalled that instant clearly. After waving goodbye to Beau, Dominique had turned with a graceful swirl. As she had glanced toward her home, their eyes had met briefly. Her expression had been one of shocked surprise,

tinged with what he had assumed was disappointment, but he had been too angry with her to care.

"No. It happened later. I went out for a walk that night, and saw you weeping in the garden. I knew you were not crying for me, but I should have gone to you and offered the comfort I had failed to provide that morning."

The day was warm and clear, and Etienne had suddenly become so thoughtful that Dominique scarcely recognized him as the brash young man who had previously confused her at every turn. She recalled how miserably unhappy she had been that night and shared the reason. "I'd never fallen in love," she admitted softly, "and when I did, it was with a man whose motives I never should have trusted. That it ended badly was my fault as much as his, but it was tragic all the same."

Her lovely voice was husky with the remembered heartbreak, and no longer able to ignore her sorrow, Etienne drew her to a halt. "This is a pretty place. Let's stop here."

An ancient oak shaded the path, and off to the side, a wide stretch of grass beckoned invitingly. Dominique didn't care where they ate their lunch, and readily agreed. She helped him spread out the blanket, but the minute she sat down, Etienne knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"I have never met anyone as sad as you, cherie. If you want to cry forever, I will be content to hold you."

He was wearing a clean pair of buckskins, and as Dominique rested her cheek against his shoulder, his invitation held an irresistible appeal. She had not meant to burden him with her pain, but touched by his sympathetic response, her tears dripped down the fringe adorning his sleeve and onto the grass at his elbow. He rubbed her back, and in a moment, pulled her down across his lap to cradle her in his arms more easily. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief, but it was soon soaked and she held it in trembling hands.

Etienne removed her cap and tossed away her combs. She

was dressed in an aqua gown that matched her eyes. He bent his head to kiss her damp cheek, and then gazed out at the river while he waited for her to shed however many tears it took to mend her broken heart. He would have stayed with her until nightfall and then carried her home, but Dominique had already experienced too much grief and soon exhausted this new bout of tears.

She cuddled against him, and, as always, felt at home in his embrace. Even after she had regained her composure, she hesitated to move and end such a perfect moment, fetienne had always been physically appealing, but she was ashamed not to know more than that he was the son of an Acadian who believed in freedom and spoke with a delicious accent. He was unlike anyone she had ever known, and yet, as he looked down at her, she saw her future reflected in his eyes.

With the same graceful ease she had charmed so many other men, she slid her arm around his neck to invite a kiss; and his response was immediate, and wildly enthusiastic. Thrilled with his fervor, she laughed and coaxed him down onto the blanket. She loved his thick curls and light eyes and the way he held her as though she were precious. She slid her hands under his shirt and ran her fingertips along the scar crossing his shoulder.

Responding to her enticing touch, Etienne yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside, and Dominique welcomed him back into her arms. His devouring kisses made her hungry for more, and when he turned her in his arms to unlace the back of her gown, she melted into him rather than pulling away. She caught a glimpse of cloudless sky and a canopy of leaves, then saw only Etienne as he freed her breasts and licked her nipples into taut buds he again grazed with his teeth.

Dominique tore away the ribbon confining his curls and leaned into his glorious kisses until her whole body ached for more. She pushed him down on the blanket then and

leaned over him. She raked his hair off his forehead, then kissed his well-shaped brows, dark lashes, and ears before dipping her tongue into his mouth. His taste was sweet, and she slid her hand over his chest to pinch his leathery nipple. She felt him flinch and having discovered his flesh was as sensitive as hers, she did it again, harder. She longed to know his body as well as her own, and when he began peeling off her clothes in great grabbing handfuls she arched her back to help him and laughed again with a deep, throaty giggle.

Etienne had never expected Dominique's sorrow to erupt into passion, but once it had, he was beyond caring who might come along the path and find them in each other's arms. He craved her with an aching need that drove him past reason to the shores of rapture and he wanted all that she could possibly give. He splayed his fingers out over her ribs, then cupped her breasts before again pressing his face close to suckle.

Moving lower, he flicked his tongue into her navel, then trailed kisses across the seductive hollow of her belly. He nuzzled the triangle of pale blond curls and, lost in her lithe body's own delectable fragrance, wrapped his arm around her leg and sank lower to drink in her taste. He split her open with the tip of his tongue, then tickled the slippery bud at the top of her cleft to inflame her desire until it matched his own.

The enchanting sensations Etienne coaxed forth were no longer unexpected even if the method he had chosen was, but drowning in his exotic affection, Dominique was more exhilarated than shocked. He moved with such natural grace, his gestures so deeply adoring, that she doubted she would ever have enough of his abundant affection. Lured past any remaining defenses, her surrender was again spontaneous, and this time, complete.

Etienne moved up over Dominique then, and hastily shoving his buckskins aside, he began to tease her with the

whole length of his swollen shaft. He tilted her hips, then yanked the blanket aside to leave no trace of their first coupling. Adjusting her body to his, he probed, gently stroking her, then dipping into her with brief, shallow thrusts. She was so wet he slid into her easily but her body still held back, and desperate to sink to her depths, he lunged forward and swallowed her cry as he felt her tender flesh tear.