Spring Fires (35 page)

"Perhaps—" She swallowed, then licked her lips. "Perhaps you would like to go into the study... for some privacy—while you read her letter."

Lisette's voice came to him through a fog. He didn't want to keep her at arm's length because of this incredible—impossible!—letter, but there was Hyla Flowers in the doorway and he had no intention of sharing secrets with her. "I believe that I will just look this over briefly alone. If you ladies will excuse me—"

The last glimpse that Lisette had of Nicholai's dazed expression frightened her. What did it mean? she wondered as she watched him disappear down the narrow corridor.

For nearly a half hour, Lisette fussed over details of the meal they were serving that noon. She spoke sharply to Chastity while the girl was assembling a tray of dishes, then lost her temper when Nancy accidentally dropped a stoneware mug that shattered the instant it struck the brick floor. Finally, she turned on Hyla Flowers.

"I want you to look after things for a few minutes. I will return shortly." Without waiting for a reaction from the older woman, Lisette turned and hurried toward the study.

When she entered, she discovered Nicholai standing and staring out the garden window. He gave no indication that he had heard her enter... or that he was even aware of his surroundings.

Quietly, Lisette crossed the room and touched his coat sleeve. "I do hope it's not bad news," she whispered awkwardly.

He saw her then, his eyes registering a flicker of surprise. "Oh—Lisette." Automatically, he gathered up the sheets of parchment that were scattered with such seeming negligence across the faded red chaise. "I'm in rather a daze, I suppose. It is difficult to believe that Gabrielle can truly be alive. I almost wonder if I
should
believe it!"

"You don't suspect that her letter could be some kind of hoax?"

"No, no, that's not possible. There are too many references in her letter to—ah—incidents that only the two of us would know about... and besides, I recognize the style of her script. It's just a shock." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled bemusedly. "A happy one, of course, but one which requires adjustment. I mean, I went through hell and I grieved for her, and at last I resigned myself to the fact of Gabrielle's death and I put her in my past...."

It seemed that Gabrielle herself had tightened an icy hand around Lisette's heart. He had loved the beautiful Frenchwoman so much that he still had dreams about her—and now she had returned, as if from the dead! "Well, it's a miracle, then, isn't it? Adjusting to a miracle should be quite a happy task."

The ragged edge of Lisette's voice broke through his distraction. The letter from Gabrielle was disturbing, but he had come to realize, since Lisette, that his relationship with the
comtesse
had been less than satisfying in many respects. The deepening love between himself and Lisette, however—so keenly sweet, arousing, and fragile—was another matter. "A miracle..." Nicholai repeated tentatively. "For her sake, I suppose it is, but, Lisette, I don't want you to think—"

"It's been a wonderful day for both of us, hasn't it?" She interjected with false brightness. "I have the financial means to make dreams come true here in the CoffeeHouse—and you have your Gabrielle back. That's
really
a dream come true!"

"Lisette—" Nicholai reached for her hands, but she slipped away, seeing only the anxiety in his expression.

"Is Gabrielle safe?" she queried, thinking that Nicholai must have been searching for a way to tell her where his heart really lay. "No doubt the situation in France is terribly frightening. Did she ever find her brother?"

He sat down on the chaise with a sigh. "Unfortunately, the marquis is still missing, but Gabrielle is safe. She writes that she was released by some miracle and was able to escape to England with a friend of her husband. Since then, she has met new people who have offered her friendship and their hospitality in London...."

Lisette saw the telltale muscle that moved in his jaw. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the window and said, "You must be anxious to go to her."

The fragrance of gardenias floated up from the letter and, for an instant, Gabrielle's bewitching countenance appeared in Nicholai's mind, giving him a familiar pang.

"You are certainly in a hurry to get rid of me," he remarked dryly. Leaning back, he caught Lisette's delicate wrist and suddenly pulled her down on the chaise.

"What do you think you are doing? Let me up!" Her cheeks flamed with outrage as he held her down easily with one arm. Inside, she burned with jealousy and fear, certain that he would be leaving her now that his true love was alive. "If you think that you can just toss me down and—"

"And what?" he taunted. How fragrant she was—like early morning in a French boulangerie. Lisette's firm breasts strained angrily against her plain bodice, reminding Nicholai of her satiny warmth in his bed that last morning at the villa. His arousal intensified abruptly.

"And—take advantage of me all over again, that's what!" accused Lisette, her own voice husky with yearning.

"You are a hard woman, Mistress Hahn—with a short memory. When will you believe that my motives are pure?" Unable to resist a moment longer, Nicholai buried his face against the sweet softness of her throat. "Mmm... you smell like freshly baked brioche... buttery croissants...."

"Thank you so much!" Lisette replied sarcastically. "As for your motives—well, they certainly aren't pure! Now, let me up!" She thrashed against him until her skirts were over her hips, but Nicholai's pinioning arm prevented her from restoring modesty to her shapely limbs.

He wondered if those were actually tears he saw Lisette blink back. He covered her sweet petal-soft mouth with his own, tasting and testing, while Lisette sighed and melted, her arms twining around his broad shoulders as she kissed him back. Intoxicated, Nicholai thought he would go mad when she traced the soft inside of his lips with her tongue, then drew him deeper into a kiss that was a whirlpool of sensation and acute desire....

Through a blur of tears, Lisette saw Nicholai's lean dark hand on her thigh. She could feel skillful fingertips grazing upward over sensitive flesh, nearer... nearer.... His hardness was pressing against her hip through a thin layer of petticoat and she wanted more than anything to turn against him, welcoming...

"Nicholai?" she whispered, suddenly aware that her bodice was undone. His mouth was burning her throat, the curve of her breast...

"Hmm...?" he answered, circling her rosy nipple with the tip of his tongue. He felt her shudder, nails biting the steely surface of his shoulders.

"Please stop!" She made a muffled whimpering sound, one hand faltering against his jaw.

Instantly, Nicholai moved upward. He kissed her flushed, beautiful, perplexed face and experienced an unsettling twinge of guilt. "What is it, sweetheart? I'm listening." The sight of Lisette's bare breast crushed against his shirt and waistcoat only increased the agonizing throb in his groin.

"Did Gabrielle write only news of her present life? If there is something else—you really must tell me."

So that was it.

Propping himself up on an elbow, he watched Lisette rebutton her bodice. "No—that wasn't all that she wrote about," he sighed, sensing the storm that his next words would trigger. "Gabrielle asked me to come to England. She has heard that her brother, the marquis, has managed somehow to escape from prison... and she insists that only with my help can he be found and aided, particularly if he is still hiding in France."

"And her husband—the
comte?"

"According to Gabrielle, he was guillotined even before I went to Paris last August, which is what we suspected at the time."

When Lisette tried to take a breath, it burned. "I see. So... she
is
free. I suppose that you thought to use me to provide one last bit of pleasure and satisfaction before your celibate sea journey. Or—do they have women on board ships during wartime?"

"For God's sake, Lisette! I was doing no such thing! I don't intend to travel anywhere—"

Lisette interrupted with a sound that mingled frustration with disbelief. "Please, spare me your timely denial!" When she struggled to sit, his arm held her fast.

"I am not going to England, you hotheaded vixen! I want to stay here in Philadelphia and continue what you and I have begun!"

Lisette closed her eyes in an effort to block out the sight of Nicholai's stormy face and eyes that seemed ablaze with feelings that she was afraid to trust. "I don't believe you. I cannot! I saw you that night at Markwood Villa when you spoke of Gabrielle. You were in agony. You wept for her!"

"I thought she was dead, Lisette! Old loves are easily idealized—but it's rather inevitable when one imagines that a beautiful, soft-skinned, coquettish girl has been brutally tortured and murdered! I told you that my relationship with Gabrielle was fed by the mystery of her personality, not by a deep bond of eternal love. She was a challenge at the time—"

"That's easy for you to say now, when she is thousands of miles away and I am right here—and you have something hard and hot in your breeches—" The sudden white flash of his grin made her face flame. "I'm serious! If there were so many unanswered questions about your relationship and feelings for Gabrielle, then I think that you should go to England and clear them up once and for all. Also"—Lisette swallowed hard—"she apparently needs you."

"But you don't."

"I... certainly enjoy your company, sometimes, but I do think it would be fair to say that I am self-reliant. I try not to depend on men to rescue me from life's predicaments."

Nicholai gazed at the proud tilt of her graceful chin and rubbed weary fingers against his brow. "How well I know it, my sweet. There is only one thing for which you need me—and most of the time you manage to resist calling on me for help even then..."

She kept her eyes open wide so that the tears wouldn't come. Aching to reassure him yet afraid to bare her soul, Lisette moved to sit up. This time Nicholai let her go.

"Our relationship, such as it is, isn't the issue now," she said. "If there really is something meaningful between us, it will survive a separation. I will be fine here, as you well know. Now that I'm a lady of means"—she managed a shaky smile, but his face remained stony—"there will be other matters to occupy my time. I just think it would be best, in the long run, for you to see Gabrielle..."

"All right, that's enough. You've made your point." He was on his feet, retying his stock with swift anger. Suddenly, his shoulder hurt like hell and he was exhausted. "Do you have any idea how long I might be gone if I make this trip? Months! If I go to France to search for that damned brother of hers, it could be a year or more before I return. If I survive—
and
if I feel the journey back here is worth the effort!"

Somehow, Lisette found the strength to stand. The harshness of his voice frightened and confused her. "Nicholai, I don't want you to think—"

"That you care? Don't worry!" he interjected bitterly, turning away when she placed a pale, hesitant hand on his clenched forearm. At the door, he paused, glancing back, his face dark and dangerously cynical. "Perhaps we will meet again one day, Mistress Hahn... though I doubt that you trust me enough to believe that I might return to you once I have Gabrielle, or some other available female, to satisfy my
lust.
After all, two celibate sea voyages in one year would probably kill an animal like myself,
n'est-ce pas
?" After sketching a final sardonic bow, Nicholai opened the door and was gone.

For a long minute, Lisette felt as if she had been mortally wounded. Finally, she crossed to the door, pulled it shut, and dissolved into tears that seemed to spring from her very soul.

"Dear God..." she moaned, "what have I done?"

Chapter 31

May 10, 1793

"
Attendez!"
Pierre rushed across the stair hall just as Belle
Maison's tall-clock was striking nine. He wondered who could have the bad manners to knock on the Beauvisages' front door while they were entertaining dinner guests! Plucking a tiny oil lamp from the side table, the Frenchman threw open the door and demanded, "Who are you and what do you want?"

The flame flickered over a dark cape that fell from broad shoulders. "How rude you are, Pierre! What kind of a welcome is that?"

The little man was momentarily speechless as he stared up at Nicholai Beauvisage, who was looking quite lawless in the eerie light. "Oh, m'sieur, I apologize! Is something the matter? What brings you all the way up here so late at night?"

"I am going to England." He stepped into the entry hall and removed his cape and gloves. "I must speak with Sacha. Is he in the parlor—or the library?"

"England?
Mon Dieu!
But—your brother is entertaining guests. They are in the dining room. Would you care to join them for dessert?"

"No! Slow down, Pierre. I don't have the time or the inclination to socialize tonight. Please, just go and beg Sacha to join me here for a moment."