Only With Your Love (26 page)

Breathing harshly, he pulled back a few inches and then sank deeply inside her, his face contorted, his fingers entwining in her hair. She met every lunge with her own feminine strength, gripping his back and digging her heels into the mattress. Her slim arms wrapped around him, and then her legs, and he was so completely held, possessed in her softness, that he could no longer contain the burst of his seed. The fierce excitement dissolved in a rush of fulfillment. Justin clutched her tightly, his breath coming so fast that his lungs ached.

When he had strength enough to move again, he rolled to his back, and she draped herself on top of him. He pushed her silken hair back from her face and stared into her dark eyes, wanting to say a hundred different things, but finding himself speechless. She smiled faintly and brushed a kiss on his lips. His hands slid from her shoulders to her white breasts, stroking with the lightest of touches. She straddled his thighs and leaned back in wanton invitation. Justin felt himself harden again, and he clasped her hips, positioning her over his rigid shaft. She reached down to guide him into her, and both of them stopped breathing as she slid down the full length of him.

Justin muttered her name. Her eyes half-closed as she raised and lowered herself in a compelling rhythm. Drugged by the sensual pleasure, Justin followed her languidly, savoring the movements of her lithe body. His hands roamed from her shoulders to the glinting down between her thighs, teasing and tormenting until she arched above him in a shuddering release. His own climax
was not as sharp and deep as before, but longer, slower, seeming to spread from his toes to the top of his head in a fiery glow.

Celia relaxed on top of him and settled her head on his chest. “Justin,” she whispered thickly. “What will happen to us?”

“Shhh, little heart…we won’t talk about it until we know for certain if Philippe’s alive.”

“But what if he is? What will you—”

His fingers came to her lips, silencing her. She would have asked more, but he hushed her again and began an idle stroking of her neck and back. Tears slid from her eyes and fell to his chest. It felt so natural to be in his arms, but she knew it was wrong. All the other times they had been together, she had believed herself to be a widow. Now, by giving herself to Justin when she knew her husband might still be alive, she had betrayed Philippe.

“I shouldn’t love you,” she said, spreading tears and kisses across his neck, his shoulders. “I never wanted to love you.”

“I know.” He held her tightly. “I know.”

“My feelings for Philippe were never like this, even though I—”

“No,” he murmured. “Don’t compare. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“But I want you to understand. I…I could never have loved him like this, never—”

“I understand.” He kissed her until she was quiet.

Suddenly she was exhausted, and she closed her eyes. “Don’t leave me,” she mumbled.

“Now, petite coeur
…” He kissed her forehead and cuddled her until she drifted into sleep.

*   *   *

The sound of a bell rang through the crisp morning air. The plantation was just beginning to awaken, chores being started, food being cooked, voices calling sleepily. Justin and Max ambled away from the main house down the long plantation drive, oblivious to what was going on around them as they talked. Their long, lazy strides matched perfectly, and their dark heads were bent at precisely the same angle. They walked past the smooth lawn while the wind strew leaves about their feet.

Justin looked at the
garçonnière
. Celia was still sleeping. He had wanted to wake her before he left her bed that morning, but he had seen the lines of strain on her face even as she slept. She would need rest in order to face the next few days.

Max followed his gaze. “You care for her, don’t you?”

“And you disapprove.”

“No, I do not disapprove,” Max replied. “I would have put a stop to any liaison if I thought you were taking advantage of her. But that does not seem to be the case. From the moment you arrived there was…an attachment between the two of you that I did not feel I had the right to break.” Max paused and added wryly, “I have been surprised by your attraction to Celia.”

“She is a beautiful woman,” Justin pointed out.

“Yes, but hers is a quiet beauty. And her inner qualities…intelligence, kindness, dignity…no, she is not the kind I would have expected you to show an interest in.”

“It’s more than an
interest,
” Justin muttered.

“So you may have intentions toward her. But what if Philippe is alive?”

Justin shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground in frustration. “I wouldn’t
take her away from him. And I think that ultimately she has too much honor to leave him.”

“It is possible that Legare’s claim is just a ruse—”

“Possible, but I don’t think so. I think Philippe is alive.” Justin’s voice was hard and determined. “Jack Risk has gone to the island to find out for certain. He’ll come here tomorrow night with the news. If they do have Philippe, I swear he’ll be brought back safely. I’ll stake my life on it.”

“I don’t want you to stake your life on anything,” Max said swiftly, and stopped him. They faced each other. “We will find another way,
mon fils.
” The golden eyes were filled with anxiety and love. “Your life is as precious to me as Philippe’s.”

Justin was momentarily taken aback. His father had always been so aloof and self-controlled. The display of emotion made him uncomfortable, elicited a yearning he had not felt since he was a boy. “There is no other way—” he began, and Max interrupted, more overwrought than Justin had ever seen him.

“Don’t you think I understand? You are like me, Justin, more like me than Philippe. For years you’ve been driven by anger and guilt, just as I was. You’ve made the same mistakes. It wasn’t your fault that some things were easier for Philippe than you. It wasn’t your fault that I didn’t give you the guidance you needed. I was so absorbed in my own grief and bitterness that I turned my back on my sons. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

“It wasn’t your fault that I turned out a blackguard,” Justin muttered. “I’m not like you, I’m like…her.”

“Your mother?” Max clarified, his thoughts
turning to that distant time when he had been married to Corinne. “She was selfish and scheming, Justin. But she wasn’t evil. Is that what you thought, that you were fated to be a scoundrel because you were her son? You have not one drop more of her blood in you than Philippe did.”

“Yes, but he…” Justin shifted his weight to his good leg and averted his gaze from Max’s. “He was the good one.”

“That is nonsense,” Max said shortly.

“Is it? All I know is that Philippe was everything I wanted to be but couldn’t.” Justin felt heat creep up from his collar as he struggled to express what he had never put into words before. How strange, that the compulsion to make his father understand this one thing was almost as strong as the need he’d felt to tell Celia he loved her. He’d always been secretive about his feelings, afraid they would be used against him. Now it seemed confessions were being dragged from him, and he was helpless to stop it. “For a long time I didn’t understand why she was gone,” he said, “and why you had turned so cold and bitter. I thought that all of it was my fault, that if I had been good, if I had been like Philippe, she wouldn’t have been unfaithful to you. She would have cared about her family. She would still be alive and you—”

“No,” Max said roughly. “It had nothing to do with you. Look at me!” There was a vibrant note of command in his voice that was impossible to disobey. “No matter what you did, no matter how you behaved, you couldn’t have changed anything. It was not your fault. I’ll make you believe that if I have to say it a thousand times.”

The winter breeze wafted over them gently, filling the air with the rustle of leaves and the scent
of cypress. Justin stared at his father without blinking. He felt a curious sensation of relief, and a betraying sting in his nose and eyes. Oh God. Had his self-control become so corroded? He shook off the feeling and summoned a crooked smile. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I believe you.”

“Then you know you don’t have to redeem yourself by giving your life for Philippe’s.”

“My motives aren’t noble. This is a matter of practicality. I’m the only one who can get Philippe out of this safely. You could comb through the civil authorities and the navy, and you wouldn’t find a man who knows one-tenth of what I do about Dominic Legare and the island.”

“And if I gain Philippe and lose you?” Max asked.

Suddenly Justin grinned. “You’d give a damn?”

Max scowled and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, like a wolf with an annoying cub. The gesture coming from a man any less than Max’s size would have been ridiculous. “Yes, I’d give a damn! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Justin continued to smile. “I give a damn about you too, Father.”

“I won’t lose you,” Max said grimly.

“No, not if you keep from interfering.”

Max released him reluctantly, remembering Justin’s dislike of being touched. They began to walk again, and Max said abruptly. “There is something I didn’t intend for you to know until after the matter was resolved. Now I think you should be made aware of it.”

“What is it?” Justin asked warily.

“Commander Matthews and Lieutenant Benedict are assembling a combined force of sailors and
marines to attack the island. They’ve been planning it for some time.”

Justin stopped in his tracks. “
What?
How long have you known about this?”

“For weeks, actually.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Justin demanded angrily.

“I didn’t feel you needed to know.”

“Dammit, when is this little expedition supposed to occur?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“The day af—” Justin broke off with a foul oath. “The fools! There’ll be heavy loss of life. There are ships in the harbor with long guns and carronades. They’ll take out half the force before Matthews gets close enough to fire on the island!”

“Perhaps. But Legare’s presence has become too much of a menace. They can’t allow it to continue unchallenged any longer. They feel the assistance of the army will give them the necessary strength.”

“Have you told Matthews about Philippe? That he may be a prisoner on the island?”

“Of course not. If I had, the authorities would have come to arrest you immediately.”

“You’ll have to go to Matthews and Lieutenant Benedict and tell them everything, Father. About me and Philippe and the whole charade.”

“No,” Max said decisively. “If you’re hoping to rely on their mercy,
mon fils,
you’ll quickly discover that there will be none for you. Come morning they’ll have you swinging from the gallows.”

“Not if they know I can be of use to them. You must find out
precisely
when they plan to attack, down to the minute. Convince them to wait until
after I exchange myself for Philippe. That way Philippe will be safe.”

Max looked unimpressed. “And how will you be of any use to the naval force then?”

“I’ll have some of my men on Isle au Corneille to protect me. Aug will smuggle them there. Then I’ll lead an attack from within the fort. Tell Matthews that we’ll set fire to the munitions warehouses and use the fort’s own cannon to take out the defenses in the harbor. We’ll weaken them from the inside. Then the naval squadron will be able to take the island without resistance. Matthews will have to agree to that.”

Max shook his head. “There are too many opportunities for something to go wrong.”

“There always are.” Justin glanced at him, surprised by the feeling of companionship he had never experienced with Max before. “We have to do it this way. For Philippe’s sake. Make Matthews understand that I can help him.”

Max scowled, but he did not argue.

Justin was relieved as he realized that his father would do what he asked. “Father…you realize that after this I’ll have to disappear for good.”

“I’m still attempting to arrange a pardon for you.”

“Not even you have that much money or influence. If I’m not caught, I’ll leave and hopefully be presumed dead.”

“And we’ll never see you again,” Max said quietly.

Justin hesitated. “No.”

“And what of Celia?”

When there was no immediate reply, Max looked at his son. Justin’s face was remote and his jaw was tightly clenched. “She’ll be better off with Philippe,” Justin managed to say. “There’s
only one kind of life I can offer her, and I’ve come to realize I…don’t want that for her.”

After walking back to the main house with Max, Justin kept himself occupied with small tasks for the rest of the day, repairing a few loose boards in the bell tower and joining in the effort to clear a fallen tree that had partially blocked the drive. As he worked alongside the slaves, Justin reflected on the irony that on Isle au Corneille and among most pirate crews, men of color had freedom and authority equal to any white man, whereas here in the civilized world they were reduced to slavery. The value of a man like Aug, intelligent and perceptive, able to organize men and carry out plans with skill and inventiveness, could never be realized here. Here Aug could not sit at a table and partake of a meal with him. Their friendship would be governed by intolerable restraints devised by a hypocritical society. Justin realized that his friendship with Aug and the past few years of living and fighting alongside his crew had changed his beliefs radically.

Although there were many freedmen in New Orleans, and it was common—even encouraged—for white men to take mulatto or octoroon mistresses, a male with any drop of Negro blood would be hanged for having an affair with a white woman. Since Justin had arrived here he had dared to ask Max if he felt there was anything wrong with such a system. To his surprise, Max had admitted uncomfortably that with his own increasing interest in his shipping business, he had recently been considering freeing his slaves. Justin hoped that he would, although he knew that it would cause trouble, even outrage, between the Vallerands and many important Creole families.