Emerald Ecstasy (17 page)

Lianne laid her glass of claret on the side table. “Of course,” she said and meant it. However, she couldn't help thinking how this new development might change things. Would Daniel leave Amelie now that she could walk? Would he declare his love for her and divorce his wife? She felt guilty for harboring such thoughts, but she couldn't help thinking them.

Amelie answered her questions, however, when she reached out an arm and stroked Daniel's hand. “The past few years have been hard on all of us, but we intend to rectify them. Don't we, dearest?”

Daniel hid his amazement. Amelie hadn't touched him since before the accident. “Yes, we will,” he said, his gaze not leaving Lianne's face.

At that moment Lianne knew she had lost him. No matter what, he was determined to make up for the pain he had caused Amelie. Even if it meant giving up any claim to his child. Yet he hadn't spoken to Lianne since the day in the nursery, and though he might strongly suspect Désirée was his daughter, he hadn't questioned her again.

Philippe stood up to leave. He held out his hand to Lianne. “Come, chérie.”

She rose but hesitated. “Philippe, the baby.”

“Baby?” He lifted his brow in puzzlement.

“Désirée. I want to take her home with us.”

“Chérie,
we're still on our honeymoon. A child will be a bother.”

“She is my child. I want her with me.”

“But our honeymoon…”

“Philippe, I fear your time with your bride has already ended.” Amelie broke into the conversation. “Lianne was here for a visit only a few days ago.”

He whitened. The look of defiance he saw creep across his wife's face confirmed his sister's words. He had thought she rode only on Belle Riviere that morning when she left the house. To think that she'd visit Green Meadows hadn't occurred to him. Didn't she realize a man had his pride? What must everyone think? That Philippe Marchand's bride was eager to leave his arms? However, he'd never embarrass her in front of others as she had done to him.

He swallowed and smiled at Amelie and Daniel, who seemed amused. “Lianne was eager to see the child. Yes, my dear, gather your little one's things. We shall take her home with us.”

Lianne kissed his cheek. “Thank you, thank you.” She rushed from the room and up the stairs.

Philippe sat down again, a sheepish expression on his face. “So, how long shall it be before you make me an uncle, Amelie?”

Amelie's fingers curled around a fold of her gown. She managed to speak in a steady voice, and purposely looked at Daniel. “Soon, I hope.”

Daniel didn't bother to reply. Once again, Amelie had surprised him. How unlike her to be so loving, so full of warmth. And children? What was she up to?

When Lianne arrived downstairs with the baby in her arms, Dera and Maria following, Daniel wrenched his hand away from Amelie's and followed Philippe and the chattering women onto the porch to bid the Marchands goodbye. He felt a part of him dying, because he suspected the little girl was his own. He silently cursed Lianne for her stubbornness, but in a way he was glad. He had nothing to offer the child. Lianne was another man's wife, and he already was married. There was too much to untangle if he claimed paternity. He also knew he had hurt Lianne with his cruel words, but he wanted her to realize how deeply she had hurt him by refusing him as her lover.

When Philippe helped Maria into the carriage, Daniel moved toward Lianne and the baby. “I hope you've made the right choice.”

If she hadn't seen the pain in his eyes, she'd have thought he meant to be sarcastic. “I have,” she said.

“I'm here if you ever need help.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she mouthed his name. She watched as he bent down and gently kissed Désirée's cheek. That was too much for her to bear. She turned quickly and hurried down the steps and into the carriage just as the tears spilled forth.

“Why the tears, Lianne?” Philippe asked, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice, now that they were on their way home. He still hadn't forgiven her for leaving their marriage bed to ride to Green Meadows. He felt humiliated.

“I'm overcome with emotion. That's all, Philippe.”

“Hmmph!” He sneered. “You'll be overcome by more than that if you ever humiliate me again! Understand?”

She cowered, practically becoming one with the cushion. “I'm sorry.”

He ignored her and the baby during the ride home. Maria stared stonily ahead. Lianne controlled her tears, but her heart cried for the man left standing on the porch at Green Meadows.

The last remnants of the brandy slid easily down Daniel's throat. Flickering flames leaped in the fireplace, but he felt no warmth. He kept seeing Lianne in Philippe's bed, his daughter in an adjacent room of Belle Riviere. In his whole life he'd never felt so alone.

A knock sounded on his door. “Come in,” he grunted and tossed the empty bottle onto the floor. He settled himself against the pillows, not even bothering to see who had entered.

“Daniel.”

Opening his eyes in disbelief, he beheld his wife. She stood poised in the doorway, her figure clearly outlined against the darkness of the hallway behind her.

“May I come in?”

“Certainly.”

She closed the door and entered into the dancing shadows of the room. Amelie wore a thin nightdress which was low and barely covered her breasts. Her golden hair swirled around her shoulders. A sweet smell like lilacs clung to the air.

Daniel had never seen her look more lovely or more desirable. What was the little tease up to?

“Can't you sleep?” he asked her. “Are you ill?”

“I'm very well, as you can see. I wanted to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“I'd like to work out our problems, to start our marriage anew.”

“Amelie, I thought you hated me.”

“I did,” she said slowly. “However, I misjudged you. I realized I wasn't a very good wife, not dutiful at all. I imagine I was quite trying at times. I'd like to right the wrongs I've done you.”

He stroked his chin, appraising her. “By coming to my bed?”

She swallowed hard. “If you'll have me.”

Being a man, and a man without a woman for a long while, desire swelled in him. Here stood a willing woman, a woman who was his wife. Perhaps she'd even ease the ache in his loins for Lianne. He'd be a fool to refuse.

“Are you well enough for lovemaking?”

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Then come to bed.”

He opened his arms and she went to him. Their lovemaking at first was tentative. He was distrustful of her and she thought of Claude. But soon they reached a climax which, if not of major intensity, was pleasant.

Later she slept beside him and listened to his gentle snores. “I shall give you a child soon, Daniel. A son to inherit Green Meadows,” she whispered to his back in the darkness. Then she left his bed, unable to sleep there. Her mind dwelled on Claude.

She padded quietly down the hallway until she came to her own room and cut across to the door which led to Claude's. She found him standing by the window.

“Darling,” she whispered and hugged him around the waist.

He looked down at her. A twisted smile played across his mouth, and the moonlight flooding his small room only enhanced the hardness of his eyes.

“Have you not been satisfied in your husband's bed, madam? Must you seek out your slave for complete satisfaction?”

“Claude, please!”

“Amelie, I know you were with Daniel. I may be only a slave, but I'm not stupid!”

“I never said you were.”

His hands disentangled her arms from him, almost as if he hated to touch her. “I loved you, and you betrayed me.”

How could she explain to him that she carried his child and loved him but couldn't give up the pampered life of a planter's wife? He couldn't offer her and the baby anything but a life of desolate poverty. But she couldn't tell him any of this. She must put her faith in God that their child would have fair skin. Claude must never know the baby she'd pass off as Daniel's was his.

“You shouldn't have loved me, Claude. But we can still be lovers. Daniel need never know.”

“I'll know, Amelie. I can't share you with him. Whether you know it or not, I'm the master over your body. Not Daniel.”

She knew that very well. Daniel was a good lover, but Claude was the one who excited her and made her feel alive.

Wildly she threw her arms around his neck. “Make love to me, Claude. Now!”

“Didn't Daniel do an adequate job, madam?”

She hated the way he looked at her with loathing in his eyes, but she wanted him and knew how to incite him to passion. Her hands flew beneath his shirt and massaged the muscles of his chest, then strayed downward to his manhood. As she had guessed, he was ready for her, and this gave her the hope that her plan would work. She could have Claude, the child, and still live as Daniel's wife.

“Take me, Claude.” She ripped at his pants until he was naked, then she tore the shirt from his back. “You're my slave. Do as I say.”

She was in a frenzy to have him, and when he tore the gown from her body, she was more than eager. He threw her across the bed and slid into her with such force she gasped. But the pleasure of his entry overcame the pain, and she wound her legs around him. Her nails sunk into the tender flesh of his back, and in that instant they found satisfaction.

Amelie panted. The sweat poured from Claude's brow onto her breasts. He lifted his head, and his eyes impaled her.

“I may be your slave, Amelie, but you're my whore.”

He got up and dressed. She could think of nothing to say, no words to stop him from leaving. After he had gone she went to the window and watched as he made his way to the slave quarters.

During the second month of Lianne's marriage, Philippe informed her that he was going to New Orleans to take care of business and that she shouldn't worry herself if he wasn't back right away.

This information didn't bother Lianne at all, and she hoped that Philippe didn't see how her face lit with relief at the news. “Content yourself with preparations for the Mardi Gras Ball,
chérie.
This will be the first time in years that Belle Riviere has had such an extravagant affair. Powerful people shall attend, and I want you to choose the most dazzling costume imaginable.”

“Shouldn't I go into town with you?” she asked and finished pouring her cup of morning tea. “I could visit the dressmaker.”

Philippe waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Stay here. I shall send a seamstress. There's no need for you to travel.”

“I'd like to go, Philippe. Things are rather dull here.”

“Are they?” His blue eyes hardened a bit. “I suppose you'd like to visit with that motley crew at the opera house to boost your flagging spirits. Well, forget it. You're mistress of my home and as such I demand your presence here. That gypsy life style is behind you. Sometimes I can't believe you're the daughter of nobility and were married to a comte. I think you forget your duties, Lianne.”

He pulled himself to his full height. She felt at a disadvantage to be sitting on the bed, cup in hand. She hated it when his eyes frosted in contempt. Philippe had changed since she had left their bridal chamber earlier than expected and ridden to Green Meadows. She decided he'd never forgive her for that humiliation, which she thought was absurd. However, she guessed that wasn't the only reason behind his wintry look.

“I didn't intend to visit, though I admit I'd like to see everyone. But my main reason is to engage a seamstress for…”

“I told you I'd send one here! Aren't you satisfied with the expensive trousseau I bought for you? It seems you're never happy, Lianne. Or satisfied. And I think you understand my meaning.”

Philippe loomed over her, and her stomach heaved. He'd never struck her, but now she wondered if he was capable of violence. No matter what she did or didn't do, he found fault with her. But she took a deep breath and ordered herself to stand her ground and not be intimidated by him.

“What I meant,” she said sweetly and shot him an engaging smile, “was that I need to hire someone to make Désirée new clothes. With each day, she grows and now her things are much too small. I don't need any more frocks, Philippe. And I am satisfied. No matter what you think.”

His face softened. Lianne had a way of twisting him around her fingers like prayer beads. He desired her even now though he recognized the determined set of her jaw when she wanted her way. However, she would tow the mark with him or suffer for it. Friends of his beat their wives for less. His humiliation at Green Meadows didn't sting so sharply any longer, but frustration of another sort ate away at him. Always considering himself an expert in the bedroom, he now felt the amateur.