Deceive Not My Heart (23 page)

By God, but she was captivating, he thought detachedly, one part of him mesmerized by the vibrant features that went beyond mere prettiness—the cat-shaped eyes which gleamed an intriguing golden-green between the long, spiky lashes; the high cheek bones, stained just now with a becoming flush, and the soft, provoking mouth that blatantly dared a man to taste its sweetness. Most of Morgan's attention was on Leonie, but he was also aware of everything else that was going on in the room—of Mr. Marshall's blustering noises at the intrusion; of Melinda's tightening grasp on his arm; of Gaylord's half-conciliatory, half-defiant air, and of the curious hush that had fallen on the rest of the guests.

As for Leonie, she was aware of nothing but the man before her, and seeing his face up close for the first time in almost six years, she was baffled at how little he resembled her memory of the weak, unscrupulous man she had met in New Orleans. Had his eyes always been that piercing shade of blue, the oddly feminine, thick, black lashes intensifying the impact of their gaze? Had his jawline and chin always been so aggressively masculine? The nose so arrogantly formed? And the mouth so frankly sensuous and yet slightly cruel in its shape? She didn't think she could have forgotten his harshly handsome face.... This man was the Morgan Slade she remembered, and yet, he wasn't—but any differences she detected, Leonie promptly put down to the passing years and her own faulty memory. After all, she had only seen the man three or four times and that had been six years ago. There were bound to be changes—she wasn't the same so why should she expect him to have remained untouched by time? The man
was
Morgan Slade, of that she was positive, even if his actual features did not bear an exact resemblance to the face of her memory. And he was undoubtedly a double-damned villain, she thought with a surge of rage.

Glaring up at him and ignoring the others, she burst out, "It seems, monsieur, that I have arrived just in time to stop you from carrying out your wicked plan!
Mon Dieu,
but I never dreamed you were such a scoundrel!" Not stopping to catch her breath, nor giving anyone a chance to speak, she turned to the openmouthed, goggle-eyed Melinda, and with a flicker of sympathy in the great golden-green eyes, she said contritely, "Mademoiselle, I am sorry to cause you distress this way, but you cannot marry this devil!" Earnestly she added, "You will thank me some day for my interference."

Silently applauding what he not unnaturally assumed was a clever bit of acting, and thinking that Gaylord had hired this enchanting little actress to play the part of a woman scorned, Morgan watched the scene unfolding before him with amusement. In time he would put an end to it and send Gaylord about his business, but for the moment curiosity, as well as a lively sense of humor, kept Morgan from calling a halt to what was for him a delightfully ridiculous descent into absurdity.
But why the hell does Gaylord think an accusation of villainy will cause Melinda to cry off?
he wondered.
Surely there must be more to this farce than an outraged woman warning Melinda of my evil character.
Eyeing the red-faced Gaylord reflectively, the dismal thought occurred to him that if this was the best young Easton could come up with, then any hope he had of Gaylord acting as an unwitting ally could be discarded.

At Leonie's words, the guests began to murmur amongst themselves and glance at Morgan, waiting expectantly for his reaction. Morgan's face remained impassive, although a gleam of mockery danced in the blue eyes, and he had difficulty in keeping from laughing out loud at the scandalized and avid expressions of the people nearest him.

It was Melinda, though, who broke the silence. The big blue eyes darkening wrathfully, she rounded furiously on Gaylord. "How
could
you!" she cried angrily. "You've ruined my evening and spoiled everything! I hate you! Do you hear me,
I hate you!"

Leonie stared at her, puzzled by the reaction. Why was this creature angry at Gaylord? She should be grateful to him, Leonie thought with perplexity. Perhaps the young lady didn't understand? And suddenly realizing that she had not made clear the depth of Monsieur Slade's perfidy, Leonie began gravely, "Mademoiselle, do not be angry with Monsieur Easton. He has only your best interest at heart. You should be thankful for his deep concern. You cannot marry Monsieur Slade. He is my—"

That was as far as she got, for Melinda flashed her a venomous look and snapped, "Oh, shut up! Don't tell
me
about Gaylord Easton! I don't know what the meaning of this is, but you were not invited to my party, and neither was he. I want you to leave immediately! Do you hear me,
immediately!"

"Melinda, you must listen to her!" Gaylord implored, finding his tongue. "She has something of the utmost importance to tell you. Listen to her!"

Her lip curling in a sneer, Melinda shot him a look that spoke volumes. "I don't want to listen to her. Why should I?" Clinging even tighter to Morgan's arm, she purred, "I am going to marry Mr. Slade, and nothing you can say will change my mind! So there!"

Gaylord drew himself up with a hiss of rage at her stubbornness, and completely forgetting himself, in a voice that shook with righteous indignation, he shouted, "You silly ninny-hammer, you can't marry him—he's already married!
This is his wife!"

Chapter 11

There was a concerted gasp from the assembled guests and Morgan, feeling that the farce had gone on long enough, said in a deadly tone, "I think that's enough out of you, young man. I can sympathize with what you think is a broken heart, but that is no excuse for your offensive actions. Kindly take your little friend in hand, and the two of you find somewhere else to perform your less than amusing antics."

Melinda glanced up at him admiringly. "Oooh, I just love masterful men!"

Something that could have been distaste flared for a second in Morgan's eyes, but it was gone so quickly no one saw it but Leonie—and the only reason she did was because she had been staring at him with astonishment.
Eh bien!
This was something she had never expected. That he would try to weasel out of paying her the dowry, she had been prepared for, but that he would pretend ignorance of who she was had simply never occurred to her.

Enraged more than she had thought possible, with a violent motion Leonie dug in her reticule and with the green eyes spitting golden sparks, she thrust the marriage papers under his arrogant nose.
"Non!
We do not leave! Deny these if you will, monsieur!"

His face betraying only his growing impatience, Morgan unhurriedly took the papers from Leonie's hand. He glanced at them, the thick black eyebrows snapping together in a frown as the import of the officially worded lines and the boldly scrawled signature across the bottom sunk in. His lip curling up in a sneer, he turned a cold gaze on Gaylord and murmured dryly, "I see you have added forgery to your few talents, my young friend. But it won't work. Now, as I said earlier, get yourself and this little harpy out of here!"

Matthew Slade, who had remained silent by his son's side, said quietly, "May I see them?"

Indifferently Morgan handed the documents to him, his eyes insolently meeting Leonie's furious ones.
Witch!
he thought, amused. Gaylord Easton may be the one who pays your bills now, but by this time tomorrow you're going to find yourself with a new protector... one who will make far better use of that impudent mouth of yours than that young fool could ever dream of.

Leonie did not like the look in his hard blue eyes, but she was not about to back down. Too many people were dependent upon her. She must have her dowry returned to her.
She must!
Not consciously planning it, she turned to the older man who had asked to see the marriage papers, and the small face alight with earnestness, she said softly, "Monsieur, I do not know who you are, nor do you know me—but I am not a liar, nor are those papers you hold in your hand forgeries. They are authentic. I am married to this man. I married him in New Orleans six years ago this July. I do not lie about this, it is the truth!"

Her words moved Matthew. That and the damning papers he held in his hands, as well as the sea-green eyes fixed so appealingly on his face. And yet, he couldn't quite believe that Morgan was capable of the perfidious acts that she claimed he had done. Obviously, though, this wasn't something that could be decided in an instant, and clearing his throat uncomfortably, not looking at his son, he said quietly, "I think we had better find a more private place to discuss this." Glancing apologetically at Mr. Marshall, who was beginning to gobble like a turkey cock, he added, "I am sorry for the embarrassment, but until this affair is cleared up, I do not think it would be appropriate to continue with these festivities."

Morgan may have found Gaylord's machinations amusing at first, but by now any amusement he might have felt had faded. And while the ending of his engagement to Melinda may have been his fondest desire, he did not like the sudden turn of events. For one thing, he
knew
he hadn't married the scheming little bitch in front of him, and for another, he didn't like the implication that he was some sort of nefarious villain who went around marrying young women whenever the whim struck him. That his father would even for a moment believe the papers he held in his hands were real was infuriating, and as for the clever green-eyed witch who claimed to be his wife, he'd like to strangle her... or make violent love to her, he thought furiously, undecided which would give him more pleasure.

Stiffly, Morgan acceded to his father's request, and in a blessedly short period of time he found himself, along with the conniving little baggage who claimed to be his wife and the others most concerned with the debacle, in the green salon of Marshall Hall. Leonie was the only woman present—Mrs. Marshall and Morgan's mother were too busy attempting to alleviate Melinda's shrieking hysterics.

The betrothal ball had ended abruptly. The guests had left with their curiosity unrelieved, speculation and gossip spreading like wildfire through their ranks. Tonight would not soon be forgotten by anyone.

Morgan should have been pleased, as his marriage to Melinda Marshall was now out of the question. But he disliked having his hand forced and especially disliked being accused of a crime he had not committed. He particularly objected to being saddled with a wife he didn't want, and the expression in the blue eyes, as they considered Leonie, was unpleasant.

The entire situation was unpleasant and none felt it more than Leonie. With only Gaylord as her champion, and faced with growing suspicion and hostility by the other men in the room, her heart sank. Several things stopped her from turning tail and running out into the night: She knew she was telling the truth; she had a son as well as several others who were dependent upon her, and she had the agreement that Morgan Slade had signed promising to repay her the dowry given to him by her grandfather.

In addition to Morgan and his father, Mr. Marshall was present, as well as a young man whom Leonie took to be Morgan's brother; none of them looked sympathetic. Mr. Marshall's plump features were so red and angry that she thought he might explode; the unknown young man was staring at her with hard, suspicious gray eyes; the older man, Morgan's father, had a worried, uncertain expression on his face, and Morgan, lounging carelessly against a tall, mahogany bookcase, was viewing her with open contempt.

As for Gaylord, he was having second thoughts; after all, what did he know of this woman? She could have been lying about the marriage, and in his eagerness to confront Slade, he might have made a terrible mistake. Hesitantly he began, "Um, I think I should explain how I came to meet this young lady."

"That won't be necessary," Morgan said bluntly, the blue eyes moving insolently over Leonie. "She has a tongue... one, I might add, she has used to good effect this evening. I'm certain she can explain everything to us." And deciding that divide and conquer might be used to his advantage, he added, "As a matter of fact, I see no reason that you should be part of this meeting. You've played your part. So why don't you leave it to your discovery to finish this drama?"

The others agreed, and before he could protest Gaylord was shown from the room. "Don't wait for the young lady," Morgan said sweetly. "I shall see that she is taken care of."

Relieved to be out of it, Gaylord did not demur, and within seconds after informing Abraham to wait for his mistress, he was driving swiftly away from Marshall Hall, torn between elation at having put a stop to Melinda's betrothal and the lowering knowledge that his part may have done him more damage than good. Melinda had been
furious,
and recalling the tears and tantrums that had erupted once the guests had left, Gaylord shuddered. She might never forgive him!