Each Time We Love (43 page)

Politely, but barely that, Adam replied, "Hello, Miss
Asher—what a surprise to see you here in New Orleans." He nodded to the
man at her side and added, "And you, Asher."

Charles Asher, apparently no happier to see Adam than Adam was
to see them, said stiffly, "Pleasure. Are you here for very long?"

"No. Merely a few days." Manners dictated that he introduce
Savanna, and wishing Betsey Asher and her brother to the devil, Adam
said coolly, "Allow me to introduce my wife, Savanna St. Clair.
Savanna, this is Miss Betsey Asher and her brother, Mr. Charles Asher."

The effect on Betsey was stunning. She went white, her mouth
almost falling open, while Charles looked extremely satisfied.

"Your wife
¹
."
Betsey ejaculated in an ugly, shocked tone. "You must be jesting!"

Adam smiled grimly and fairly dragged Savanna away from them.
"No, I assure you, I am not," he said icily. "Excuse us, we have an
appointment."

With malevolent, narrowed green eyes, Betsey watched them
stride away. It was only Charles's insistent tug on her arm that broke
her stare. Under his breath he hissed, "There is nothing you can do. He
is married! You will just have to set your cap for someone else."

Betsey's mouth thinned and something dangerous moved in her
green eyes. "Don't tell me what to do! Wife or not, I still intend to
have Adam St. Clair as
my
husband!" she said in a
voice shaking with rage. Full of malice, she stared at Savanna's
disappearing form and added viciously, "I don't know where
she
came from or what hold she has on him, but I'll wager this sudden
marriage—and it has to have been sudden—is no love match! I want him
and
nothing,
not even a
current
wife, is going to stop me!"

Part
Four

Treachery
and Triumph

If
you
remember'st not the slightest
m folly

That
ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not
lov'd.

As You Like It
William
Shakespeare

CHARLES
ASHER BIT BACK A FURIOUS OATH, but mindful where they
were, he kept his temper under control. Smiling through gritted teeth,
he said, "If you don't mind, sweet sister, I would prefer to discuss
this in a much less public place!"

Betsey shrugged her shoulders, but she followed his lead and
kept a pleasant expression on her face as they mounted the stairs and
made for their rooms in the hotel. They had arrived in the city only
two days previously, and since New Orleans at this time of year was
notoriously bereft of society, all the planters busy on their estates
and everyone else avoiding the city to escape the heat and the seasonal
fevers, the Ashers had found themselves somewhat bored. That, of
course, would change once they arrived at Oak Shadows, where Charles
had high hopes that Betsey could charm a proposal out of the Michaud
heir, Pierre. The Ashers had only recently met the Michauds, mother and
son, when they had come to visit a distant elderly relative in Natchez,
in May. It had been apparent almost immediately that Pierre was greatly
smitten with Betsey, and since Pierre so neatly fitted his
requirements, Charles had graciously accepted the young man's excited
invitation that the Ashers come for an extended visit at his home, Oak
Shadows, in the fall.

The door to their connecting rooms had barely shut behind them
before Betsey hurled the lovely ivory-and-lace fan onto the floor, and,
her beautiful face contorted with rage, she snarled,
"Married!
I cannot believe it! Especially since the bastard wouldn't marry
me!"

Well used to Betsey's rages and vanity, Charles wisely made no
comment, but let her storm around the room, waiting for the worst of
her fury to abate. Only after she had hurled a crystal decanter against
the wall, kicked over a dainty inlaid mahogany table and viciously
flung all the satin pillows from her bed onto the floor did she gain
some semblance of control.

Bosom heaving, she faced her brother and snapped, "1 know you
never wanted me to marry him, and though he may not suit your needs, he
suits me just fine. I want
him!
Pierre is just a
boy—he doesn't even begin to compare to Adam St. Clair!"

"That may be, but while Adam may satisfy you in bed," Charles
said nastily, "I doubt that he would tamely allow you to plant horns on
his head or turn a blind eye while I played ducks and drakes with his
fortune!"

"Well, it's your own fault! You were the one who gambled away
our fortune. I'm just glad Mama and Papa aren't alive to see what
straits you have reduced us to!"

There was nothing Charles could say to her angry statement—he
had
done precisely that, gambled away the impressive fortune that had been
left to him by his father. No one, not even their sister, Susan,
realized just how desperate their situation had been when her
invitation had so providentially arrived.

The house, the plantation, Charles's fortune and even Betsey's
inheritance, which had been under his control, had gone to pay
Charles's enormous gambling debts in Virginia. Susan's invitation had
been a godsend; though Betsey had always been courted, once there were
whispers about Charles's huge losses, suddenly the majority of Betsey's
suitors simply melted away. Of those who were left, few had a fortune
large enough to satisfy Charles.

Betsey had been furious when the full extent of the disaster
had been borne upon her, but if she loved anyone, other than herself,
it was her brother, and eventually he made her see a way out of their
dilemma—her marriage to an
indulgent,
wealthy
gentleman. And it had to be Betsey who did the marrying—just as her
suitors had disappeared as word had gradually spread through their
friends and neighbors, so had Charles's prospects for a suitable match
disappeared. A gentleman intent upon marrying Betsey wouldn't want to
appear overly mercenary by inquiring too deeply about her supposed
fortune, and while news of the disaster hadn't traveled beyond their
home ground, even if Charles was fortunate enough to find an heiress to
accept his hand, it was highly unlikely that the marriage would take
place without a close scrutiny of
his
finances.
Which would be fatal!

Adam St. Clair had been the perfect match for Betsey in many
ways, but though she had clamored to marry him, Charles had been
adamantly against it. It hadn't taken him more than one meeting with
that young man to make him realize that, while easygoing, St. Clair was
not a man who would turn a blind eye to Betsey's philandering, nor
would he be willing to saddle himself with an extremely expensive
brother-in-law! The two Ashers had fought bitterly over it, and Charles
had breathed a sigh of relief when Adam had gone to visit his sister
and her family.

That he was now married pleased Charles inordinately,
especially since a young man who
did
fit all
their requirements had appeared on the scene. The only child of a
doting widowed mother, Pierre was a handsome, carefree youth, just
twenty-three years old, and more important, he was convinced that
Betsey was an angel. Not only was he thoroughly bedazzled by her, but
both he and his mother had found Charles utterly engaging. These past
weeks, while Betsey had kept Pierre in a state of abject adoration,
Charles had easily disarmed Madame Michaud by his charming manner and
was already stepping into his role of helpful advisor. It was perfect!

A scowl marred Charles's too-handsome features. Provided
Betsey didn't allow her fascination for Adam St. Clair to ruin
everything! he added to himself.

"It doesn't matter," Charles said dismissingly, "how we come
to be in this situation—we
are
in it and the
solution is for you to forget Adam St. Clair and concentrate on Pierre
Michaud!"

"I don't want Pierre! He's a mere boy! I
want
Adam!"

Charles slapped her. Hard. His face dark with rage, he
promised savagely, "Whistle Pierre down the wind, Betsey, and I'll make
life so miserable for you, you'll wish you'd died!"

Nursing her stinging cheek, Betsey threw him a vicious look.
"Don't threaten me! There are things I could tell about you, don't
forget!"

Controlling himself with an effort, Charles said tightly, "I
could say the same, my dear! We can ruin each other… or we can, as we
have always done, join forces. The choice is up to you."

A beguiling smile on her mouth, she said lightly, "Oh,
Charles! We're fighting again! Come, let us talk of something more
pleasant. Do we have to leave this afternoon for Oak Shadows?" Tugging
on his sleeve like a child, she asked sweetly, "Couldn't we stay just
one more night here in New Orleans and leave tomorrow afternoon
instead?"

Charles stared at her suspiciously, well aware that Betsey was
quite capable of pretending one thing when intent upon another, and
while he would have preferred to put as many miles as possible between
her and Adam St. Clair, he also saw no reason to cause more dissension
between them. Besides, what harm could she possibly cause in
twenty-four hours?

Betsey herself didn't quite know what she was going to do; she
only knew that she wasn't going to let
any
opportunity pass, and since burying herself at Oak Shadows, for who
knew how long, wouldn't allow her to forward her own plans for Adam's
future, she was desperate for any chance. One more night just might
present her with a heaven-sent opportunity to set the St. Clairs at
each other's throats. Betsey smiled.

Her smile might have been even wider if she had known that her
mere presence was already causing trouble between Adam and his wife.
Convinced that Adam had been ashamed of her, hence his quick departure
from the vicinity of his friends, Savanna lost whatever pleasure she
might have taken from the day. Adam's actions had only confirmed her
worst fears, but she was determined not to let herself be beaten so
easily. Pride kept her walking gracefully at his side, her chin lifted
regally, her back straight, her shoulders squared. But if she was hurt
by his actions, she was also very angry, and there was a decided edge
to her voice when she replied to Adam's suggestion that they stroll to
the French Market. Keeping her gaze directly in front of her as they
stepped onto the banquette, she said tightly, "I'm surprised you chose
such a public place. Aren't you afraid that you might run into someone
else you know and have to introduce me to them?"