Patricia Rice (28 page)

"Don't get your Irish up." He chuckled softly as he sat at the bed's edge to remove his boots. "A good woman would help me take these things off, you realize. I ache all over and my arm hurts like hell. I can make love to you much better if I don't have to strain myself removing these damned boots."

"I'm not your whore, Nicholas," Eavin muttered in ominous undertones.

Nicholas succeeded in pulling off one boot, letting it fall to the floor as he turned to pin the sheets on either side of her. Face to face, he met her uncertain gaze. "I don't have need of whores,
ma petite
. I need a woman who wants what I have to offer. I may not be much compared to the pampered Jeremys and Alphonsos of this world, but I think I can give you what you need. And I think you can give me the same in return. It's a mutual arrangement,
chèrie
. Why not give it a try?"

Eavin had no easy answer to that. The fear of pregnancy that had kept her chaste until marriage was gone. Now that she had a better understanding of marriage, she had no desire to enter into it again anymore than Nicholas did. To be permanently tied to a man's whims and desires while he did as he pleased held no appeal at all.
 

If what Nicholas said about his will was true, she had no more to gain financially by marrying him than living with him. Of course, there was always the chance that he would grow tired of her and throw her out, but she didn't think Nicholas would be that totally dishonorable. Even the men who took mistresses among the women of color set them up handsomely before they left them.
 

Eavin was beginning to understand that that was an eminently practical arrangement. All the world knew men tired of having just one woman. Why be tied to one and watch as he philandered his life away? It was much more reasonable to take what he had to offer while he wished to offer it, and still maintain her independence.

The other boot dropped to the floor. Nicholas held out his hand, and wordlessly Eavin took it.

Together they crossed the hall to the freshly made bed of masculine proportions that Nicholas had had set up for them to share. In a way, Eavin mused as she stepped into Nicholas's welcoming arms, it was almost like being married. Only the "death do us part" was missing. She raised her lips for Nicholas's kiss and clasped her hands behind his neck with almost a sense of pride.
 

For whatever reason, her trust in Nicholas Saint-Just was unbreachable. By handing herself into his care, she was admitting that she trusted him to treat her with all the respect due a wife. Perhaps others would call her mad, but she had seen the man behind the mask and knew his pain as well as her own. She was willing to take her chances.

And Nicholas certainly made the gamble worth it. Eavin closed her eyes in ecstasy as his lips covered her breasts with kisses and to suckle gently at the tips. If any man could teach her the joys of love, Nicholas could.

They woke to the blinding glare of a June dawn and Jeannette's contented chatter in the nursery. Eavin's lashes fluttered open to meet the amber glow of Nicholas's eyes and the breathtaking warmth of his slow smile. She gradually became aware of those places on her body that had received his most urgent attentions last night, but the aches and scrapes were well worth it. She returned his smile with one of her own.

Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief and kissed her nose. "I was afraid you would change your mind again with the crow of the cock. You are not an easy person to second-guess, Irish."

"I didn't think you had any doubts," Eavin answered wryly.

"It is always better to pretend one doesn't, I have found. Would you have come with me last night had I asked instead of commanded?" Nicholas slipped his hand into the thick richness of her ebony hair, lifting the soft curls over her shoulder to better see her breasts.
 

Eavin tried to regard this question sensibly, but what he was doing to her insides made her incapable of coherent thought. Somehow he had talked her into agreeing to be his mistress. She ought to be ashamed, but she couldn't summon the emotion as the sun poured light across their skin and the infant blessed the silence with her coos.

"I don't know what I would have done," she confessed. "But I had better leave here before Annie comes upstairs. It is human nature to gossip, and there is no point in adding proof to the rumors."

"I told Annie I would call her when I wanted her to come up. Jeannette is old enough to wait a while for breakfast. How soon can she be weaned?"

His decisive means of settling all problems left Eavin bemused. "She's terribly young..." She hesitated beneath Nicholas's questioning gaze.
 

He would accept any answer she gave him, she realized. A relationship like theirs was beset with problems from the start, but they would only multiply should their trust in each other be lost. She had never trusted a man before, not even Michael, but for some odd reason she was trusting this one. She might as well give him reason to make the feeling mutual. "I don't know for certain, but she's eating a little food now that she has some teeth. It will be difficult to persuade Annie."

Nicholas looked satisfied. "I'll persuade her. Keeping Annie out won't stop all speculation, but there will be no one to say otherwise, either."

He was quite right. She had never got out of the habit of making her own bed. The servants would never know if she didn't sleep in it. Without Annie in the nursery, no one would have any right to be up here until they called. It was their word against rumor, as it had been all along.
 

The first day of her new life as a man's mistress ran more smoothly than her first day as a wife. The day after she had married Dominic she had spent in constant fear and revulsion of the night to come. In her nervousness, Eavin had argued with Dominic and burned his oatmeal and smacked one of the boarders when he had made a lewd comment about the marriage bed. All in all, she had been perfectly miserable. Nicholas was wiping out that memory.

He had a magnolia blossom floating in a bowl of water at her place at the table for breakfast He arrived at the noon meal with a bouquet of roses, and when Eavin informed him she would rather have the bush, he gave her the name of a man to write to request whatever shrub she would like. Instead of politely keeping his hands to himself during the day as Dominic had been prone to do, Nicholas never missed an opportunity to kiss her when they were alone, inspiring a desire for the night to come instead of dread.

That didn't mean the arrangement was idyllic. When Eavin protested at his insistence on driving himself physically when it was obvious that he was in pain, Nicholas ignored her arguments. When she noted one of Lafitte's scurrilous pirates loitering in the yard and inquired about his presence, Nicholas refused to tell her.

Physical intimacy did not mean intimacy in all areas of their lives; Nicholas made that perfectly clear. Eavin chafed at the restriction, but she could find no satisfactory way around it. He would be the same with a wife. In her own family there were no secrets. They had yelled and screamed and argued the house down over every topic of the other's life. But Nicholas came from a different culture, and she would have to learn to accept it. Gritting her teeth, she flung a paper wad at the door from which he had just departed. Arrogant bastard that he was, he thought himself invincible. Who was she to tell him otherwise?

No surprise awaited her at their evening meal, but Eavin could tell from Nicholas's smug expression that he had something in store. They discussed the highlights of their day with their usual politeness while the servants were about, but expectation curled in Eavin's stomach as soon as the meal was done.

Nicholas retreated to his desk to deal with correspondence, as he often did in the evenings, and Eavin went up to the nursery to tuck Jeannette into bed. Already learning to walk, the toddler wasn't eager to part with Eavin's attention, but eventually she wearied and fell asleep. By that time Annie had retired to her own room out back, and Eavin was prepared to spend the remainder of the evening reading. Instead she found Nicholas in the nursery doorway, waiting for her.

Drawing her into his room across the hall, he closed the door and pulled her into his arms. It seemed like eternity instead of hours since they had been alone like this, and Eavin eagerly stepped into his embrace, turning her head for his kiss and stretching to thread her hands through his hair and press herself against him. Nicholas groaned against her mouth and crushed her closer, then stepped away and began to unfasten the front of her bodice.

She would never grow accustomed to the liberties he took with her person. Before she could do more than shiver at the touch of his fingers inside the thin muslin, Nicholas released her to reach into his pocket.

"Close your eyes," he commanded as she stared up at him with bewilderment.

Doing as told, Eavin felt the brush of something cold against her skin. He had untied the drawstring of her chemise, leaving her naked to his gaze, and she felt her nipples pucker against the material that barely clung there.

"Open them."

Eavin looked at Nicholas first, then down at herself. A ruby teardrop encircled with tiny diamonds hung from an intricate silver chain between her breasts, and her hand involuntarily reached to cover it. Just the touch of her own hand against the sensitive flesh made her aware of the man who had placed the jewel there, and she clutched the pendant as fury welled up in her at the same time as her breast ached for his touch.

"You agreed I am not your whore. You said this was a mutually beneficial arrangement! How dare you pay me with jewels for what I freely gave? Why don't you give this to your colored mistress? She would appreciate it more." Eavin struggled to find the clasp so she could throw the necklace at him.

Nicholas caught her hand and jerked it down, pulling her gown from her shoulders as he did so. "Don't try my temper, Eavin. It won't work. If I want to give you jewels, I will. I would do the same for a wife. It pleases me to see you wear things I have bought for you. Had I the right, I would brand you for all to see, but I don't have that right. So allow me what little I can."

"Little?" Eavin glanced down at the costly pendant and the place where Nicholas's brown hand rested, and tears formed in her eyes. "This necklace must be worth more than I have ever worn on my back in all my lifetime. How can you call it little? And I have nothing to give you in return. I can't accept it, Nicholas, can't you see?"

Slowly he unfastened the remainder of her buttons and bows. "It is but a pirate's bauble,
ma chèrie
. How can it compare to the joy you bring me every time I hear Jeannette laugh? Do not argue the value of our gifts for each other; that is for merchants. It has naught to do with life."

Nor love. Eavin shuddered as Nicholas bent his lips to her breast, seducing her in the way he knew best. And it was seduction, she knew. What was between them had no more to do with love than the jewel hanging about her neck. It was desire, pure and simple, and she gave herself up to it as easily as she accepted his claim.

It was more than she had ever known before.

Chapter 24

"Ahh, my poor
chéri
, is worse than I thought." A creamy hand caressed the sun-browned cheek beside the healing gash. "You should have come to me. This may scar your pretty face."

Nicholas smiled, kissed her palm, and set her hand aside. "I have been assured that a scar will only improve my miserable attractions."

Dark eyes lit with amusement as Labelle studied his satisfied expression. Wearing a gown of gold-and-cream- striped silk that would have appeared gaudy on any other, but suited her black hair and magnolia complexion to perfection, she swayed with the smooth grace of a gazelle as she sauntered to the lace-curtained window.

"
La petite mademoiselle
with the green eyes?"

Not surprised by Labelle's knowledge of all his secrets, Nicholas poured himself a glass of wine. "She has a wicked tongue," he agreed.

"I can think of more than one way to apply that expression," Labelle replied suggestively. "Whatever it is she does, she does it well. I cannot remember seeing you so..." she hesitated over the word, "content. She is good for you, I think."

"She is a stubborn, hotheaded, argumentative little witch," Nicholas corrected. "But I did not come here to enlighten you with my personal life."

"You should not come here at all." Labelle stepped back from the curtain and helped herself to the wine decanter. "You have a house of your own. Why do you not go there?"

Nicholas stiffened but continued sipping his wine. "Do I get in the way of your latest lover?"

Labelle gave him the closest thing she had to a scowl: a slightly miffed expression involving raising her delicately plucked eyebrows. "When and if I wish to take lovers, they will not tell me who I may entertain in my own home."

Nicholas relaxed and leaned against a set of shelves lined with books. "You should marry, Belle. You should have gone with Henrí to France. You would be courted by the wealthiest and most powerful men in the country once Henrí
 
establishes his credentials."

"Your credentials, you mean." Belle drifted to a chair and floated into it. "I am certain you find it
très amusant
to send a man of color to take the title of marquis in your place. Just think of the generations to come, so proud of their blue blood, not knowing it is tinted with black. You are a cynical bastard, Nicholas, and you have the nerve to ask me why I do not marry?"