Deceive Not My Heart (52 page)

Openmouthed Leonie stared at him, unable to believe that he had apologized or that he wasn't going to toss her and Justin out into the night. Swallowing painfully, she admitted in a low tone, "I should never have told everyone he was your son, monsieur, but," the great green eyes lifted pleadingly to his, "I could not have people call him names, to laugh and jeer and call him a bastard.
I could not!
Not for myself, you understand, but for Justin."

Morgan saw very well, and he was conscious of an unwanted feeling of tenderness welling up inside of him for her. Fighting off the almost overpowering urge to take her into his arms and croon passionate promises of protection and comfort into her ears, he replied, "We'll leave your son out of this for the time being, but I would like to know who his father really is. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me—after all, if I'm to take responsibility for him, I think it is only fair that I know his background, don't you?"

Leonie looked away, her face flaming with shame. How could she tell him that she didn't know? How could she baldly come out with the news that Justin's father had been a stranger to her? A stranger who had raped her and carelessly taken her virginity? A stranger, she could tell him nothing about? She tried, but the words stuck in her throat and finally she got out in a low, mortified whisper. "Monsieur, I cannot tell... please do not ask me this."

A less sensitive man than Morgan would have been aware of her distress and embarrassment, and he said in a flat voice, unwilling to prolong what was obviously painful to her, "Very well, we'll leave that for now too. But I'm not moving from this room until several things are settled between us."

"What do you mean?" Leonie asked, so relieved at the moment that he was not going to pursue the painful subject of Justin's father, that she wasn't even angry... yet.

"Just this, cat-eyes—I didn't marry you, of that I'm positive. Neither did I sign any dowry agreement, nor that preposterous agreement concerning my rights to the marriage bed." His eyes blue chips of ice, he added, "If I'd seen you and married you, I would have brought you back to Bonheur with me—I would never have left you in New Orleans and certainly I would never have allowed you to present me with another man's son!"

"I don't understand," Leonie said. "Are you going to pretend now that we never married? Is that how you hope to avoid paying the dowry back—by claiming that I am the one who is lying?"

Morgan smothered a curse under his breath and once again grasping Leonie's shoulders he shook her with a sort of frustrated gentleness. "You're a stubborn fighter, I'll give you that," he said. "But the time for fighting is over, sweetheart. I'm through playing this game and tonight you're going to tell me the truth if I have to beat it out of you."

"But I am telling the truth!" Leonie cried, her hands pushing against his chest, trying to free herself.

But Morgan's hold only increased and in a level tone of voice he said, "I made a mistake in acknowledging you and I'll admit it. It is something I should never have done, but if you think I'm going to let this situation drag on until you have firmly entrenched yourself with my family and friends you are very much mistaken."

Bewildered, confused by what he was saying, but angry too, Leonie continued to fight against him. Was he mad? she wondered. Only this afternoon he had implied he wished to make their marriage real, and yet now he was claiming he had never married her. Why had he suddenly changed?

Even Morgan couldn't have answered that question. He only knew that the situation had become intolerable. He could not and
would not
allow this mendacious state of affairs to continue any longer. And knowing he shouldn't have allowed things to reach this point didn't make his decision any easier. Whether it was Jason's letter or the certain knowledge that he hadn't married her that had crystallized that thought in his mind he didn't know; he only knew that he was not going to exist between heaven and hell as he had these past weeks.

Pulling Leonie's struggling body closer to his, he demanded grimly, "Are you going to tell me the truth? Are you going to admit that you've lied all along? I promise I'll not harm you or the boy, but for God's sake, have done with this travesty! My patience has run out, Leonie, and I think I should warn you that I am a dangerous man when provoked and God knows you have provoked me deeply enough."

"Monsieur, I think you are insane!" Leonie said furiously. "You accuse
me
of lying, when you are the one who is lying!" Glowering up at him, she spat, "Everything I have said can be proved. Ask anyone in New Orleans and they will tell you that
Saint-Andres do not lie!
The record of our marriage is there and yet you dare to say I lie! It is you who are lying, monsieur! You who are not telling the truth!"

Morgan had to admire her acting ability, but it also infuriated him and in a goaded tone he snarled, "Very well, cat-eyes, we'll go to New Orleans! It's there that this bloody farce started and it's there that it is damned well going to end!"

Part IV

Shadows from the Past

The love of my life came not

As love unto others is cast;

For mine was a secret wound—

But the wound grew a pearl, at last.

"The Deep-Sea Pearl"

Edith Matilda Thomas

Chapter 25

The first day in New Orleans passed swiftly for Leonie—as had the days before she and Morgan had left Le Petit. Having decided to come to New Orleans, Morgan had moved quickly. Within forty eight hours of his astonishing announcement, they were on a flatboat sailing down the Mississippi.

Mercy and Saul had accompanied them, as had Litchfield, but Morgan had been adamant about Justin's presence. His eyes hard and cold he had stated flatly, "No. Your son isn't going to come with us. He'll be perfectly content here while we are gone. And considering the situation between us, I would have thought you might think it best that he not be subjected to any unpleasantness that arises between us."

Despite grave misgivings and a mother's natural reluctance to leave her child behind, Leonie had uneasily capitulated. Justin
would
be better off at Le Petit, she decided unhappily.

Since their argument Morgan had become cool and aloof, as if he had retreated behind an impenetrable barrier. He was polite, very, but it was an icy politeness that froze Leonie in her tracks.

At first anger had carried her through the tense time that had followed his decision to go to New Orleans, but now her predominant feeling was confusion. Leonie was confused not only by his abrupt change in manner, but also by the ugly accusations he had hurled at her. He acted as though she had tried to trick him and there was such a note of sincere fury in his voice that Leonie was utterly bewildered. The thought had occurred to her more than once that perhaps he suffered from an occasional loss of memory. What else could explain his erratic behavior? One moment he appeared to want their marriage to be real and the next he stated forthrightly that she was a liar and an extortionist. What was one to think? Her heart wanted to believe that there was a logical explanation for his wild accusations and vacillations, but her practical head came to the unhappy conclusion that he was acting, acting the part of one wronged in order to discredit and disarm her. It was, she decided, simply another ploy of his not to pay the dowry.

And thinking that, she retreated behind her own wall of icy reserve, just as eager as Morgan to leave for New Orleans, to prove at last that she was no easy prey.
Mon Dieu, but I shall show him!
she vowed.

More gowns had arrived from Mrs. Dobson's before they had left Natchez. With the clothes had also come all sorts of things Leonie hadn't even thought of—satin slippers, kid boots, lacy shawls, bonnets, soaps, perfumes, pearl combs, and various other things necessary for a young matron. Noelle provided trunks and valises and Leonie had departed with a fashionable and extensive wardrobe.

Upon their arrival in New Orleans, Morgan had found a suite of rooms at a very pleasant inn south of the city. He had barely allowed Leonie to wash the travel stains from her face and change into a less crumpled gown before he had whisked her back into the city.

Having shipped a team of thoroughbreds and his curricle on the same flatboat that had brought them to New Orleans, transportation had proved no obstacle. He had helped Leonie into the vehicle, and moments later they were headed toward the St. Louis Cathedral on Chartres Street.

It was a silent ride. Leonie stared pensively at the mud-clouded waters of the Mississippi as they rode along the river road. She missed Justin and wished that he were with her.
What is he doing at this moment?
she wondered.
Is he happy with Yvette and the others?
She hoped that he wasn't missing her as much as she was missing him.
Mon Dieu, but life can be very hard at times,
she thought, wishing the anger that had kept her spirits up during the first few days of their journey would return.

Anger was such a comforting emotion, she mused. It could carry one through all manner of events without allowing more disturbing or painful emotions to intrude. The problem was though, that anger—at least her anger against Morgan—could never be sustained for any length of time. After a day or two stronger emotions began to erode her anger, leaving her vulnerable and unprotected from the promptings of her own heart. Resentfully she shot Morgan a look from underneath her long, curling lashes.
Why does
he
have to hold this power over me?
she asked herself crossly, not liking the way her senses responded to his presence, the way her heartbeat quickened whenever he was near, or the way her arms ached to embrace him.

Leonie sighed again.
His attraction is potent,
she admitted gloomily,
but I would be a great fool if I even seriously considered following anything but my original plan.
Her full mouth tightened.
I must be strong, and no matter how much it hurts, no matter how painful it will be—for both Justin and myself—just as soon as I can make him pay me the dowry, we must escape from his spell.

But can you bring yourself to leave him?
Leonie wondered. Slyly her mind taunted her:
Why would you cling to a man who has proved himself to be so dishonorable?
She knew the answer to that question.
I love him and I am a great fool
she thought disgustedly.

Morgan's emotions were not in much better condition. At the moment he was cursing himself for having embarked upon this journey, aware that the old adage of letting sleeping dogs lie had much to recommend it.

You bullheaded ass,
he thought furiously,
you had to have this settled, didn't you? You had to force the issue—instead of wooing her and thanking God every day that she had come into your life... and
damn
the reasons!

It was the same futile argument he'd had with himself ever since he had determined upon this trip to New Orleans; time had not lessened the bitter frustration that ate at him. He wanted the truth and yet he feared it, which didn't help his lacerated emotions at all. With a feeling of dull rage he realized that nothing was ever going to be the same again. The little witch at his side had made certain of that. She had woven her spell too well for him to ever escape and he was furiously aware of it.

In an unfriendly silence they reached the St. Louis Cathedral. After tying the reins to an iron hitching post, he walked around the curricle and, in the same unfriendly silence, helped Leonie down.