Lady Vixen (84 page)

Christopher
stirred restlessly behind her. "Yes," he said flatly. "The code
books. Have you forgotten them?"

Her
fingers biting into the tender flesh of her palms, she admitted, "Yes. I
had forgotten them." Flashing him an angry glance, she said hotly,
"All right, I tried to take them, but I didn't betray
you!
Stealing
those books was not harming you. They didn't even properly belong to you; you
had stolen them in the first place." Honesty made her add, "Feeling
the way I did then, knowing what I did then, and given the same circumstances,
I would probably do the same thing again. You had no right to them. Allen and I
were merely returning them to their rightful owners. Besides," she added
childishly, "I wanted to get back at you. To thwart the omnipotent Captain
Saber."

With
a thread of sudden amusement in his voice, Christopher said softly, "Well,
you did that, you little devil! You've done nothing
but
thwart me since
Bermuda."

Her
eyes shimmering with angry tears, she rounded on him. "Don't you dare
laugh! I've admitted why I tried to take the books, and I'll even go so far as
to say maybe I was wrong, but that doesn't mean I'm like my mother!" And
desperately she played her last card. "Because she was my mother you say I
have to be like her, but tell me, was Robert like your grandfather? The same
adage should hold true—like mother, like daughter, like father, like son. Was
Robert
exactly
like Lord Saxon?"

"Of
course not! Absolutely not!" Christopher burst out furiously. "You
cannot even begin to compare them! Robert was vile and selfish, while my
grandfather is—" Christopher stopped abruptly, an arrested expression in
the gold eyes. For a tense moment he stared at Nicole, his jaw taut, the heavy
eyebrows meeting in a scowl. "I see your point," he said at last.

Nicole
smiled bleakly. "You see it, but you don't agree?"

With
a gentle hand Christopher reached out and cupped her face. "I don't know
what to believe any longer. I've nursed this feeling against you for so many
months that I can't seem to let it go. Give me time, my love. Time to come to
understanding within myself. Will you grant me that?"

It
was a humble request, and while he still might have to battle within himself,
there was no hiding the love she saw on his face. Mutely she nodded, knowing
that time was on her side. Time and love. And it gave her a queer feeling of
tenderness to know that despite thinking she could be as wanton and wicked as
Annabelle, he loved her anyway—loved her and had married her. Perhaps, she
mused pensively, that was a greater sign of love than believing in her
explicitly.

Gently
Christopher drew her next to him and asked simply, "Tell me about that
last night in England." And hesitatingly at first, her voice growing
stronger as she continued, she told the tale of kidnapping and trickery. When
she finished speaking, there was a long silence; both of them stared at the
flames on the hearth, as if the answer they sought was there in the leaping
tongues of fire. His arms tightening around her, Christopher murmured into her
hair, "I believe you, wildcat. That was too wild and improbable a tale for
it not to be true. I just wish I had known and had been the one to rescue
you—not Robert."

Twisting
in his arms to face him, she said gently, "Well, you did in the end, you
know. If you hadn't come along the beach just then I would have been in sorry
straits. Higgins certainly wasn't going to do anything with me. He was too
intent upon catching that ship. So you see, you really did save me from a fate
worse than death." Her voice husky with emotion, she said against his
lips, "Living without you would have been like dying."

With
a groan Christopher pulled her even closer to him. "Keep loving me,
Nicole. I'm a brute, a jealous madman where you are concerned, but I love you
so much." His voice breaking just a little, he muttered, "I've loved
you it seems like forever—you were always in my thoughts. First as an impudent
cabin boy I couldn't help teasing and then as a wanton creature that haunted my
every moment. Waking or sleeping, you were always there, a torment and an odd
sort of joy." Pushing her away slightly, he stared intently into her face.
"I can't put the past from me totally, but give me time. Teach me to love
without looking for motives, without questioning, without doubting what I see before
my very eyes. Teach me to trust you. And oh, Jesus," he growled thickly,
"love me and go on loving me."

His
mouth descended on hers hungrily, urgently, and Nicole met the hard caress of
his lips eagerly, her body suddenly aflame to know again that sweet-savage
possession of his. There was no holding back with either of them, no hiding
their emotions, just the sweet enchantment of the other.

Slowly,
as if he were discovering her body for the first time, Christopher's hands slid
over her, marveling at the silken texture of her skin. Lazily his mouth left
hers, and with a frankly sensual expression in the gold eyes, his gaze swept
the slender body; the flickering firelight caressed the gentle upthrust of her
breasts, shadowing the taut stomach and turning to gold the long, slim legs.
Entranced, he glanced at her face, the sable hair splayed out like a flame-shot
banner of silk on the ruby carpet. Her eyes were half closed, the high
cheekbones highlighted by the fire, the full mouth generous and waiting for his
kiss. With a muffled groan of desire, he sought her lips again, his hands
touching and caressing the proud high bosom, delighting when he felt her
nipples harden with hunger as consuming as his own.

Nicole,
the blood roaring in her ears, reached for him, wanting more intensely this
time for him to take her . . . this time, for the first time in love, not lust.
She needed no arousing; her body already trembled with the demanding hunger he
evoked so simply and fiercely, her body arched up against his hands, telling
him without words that she was on fire for him. Instantly he covered her,
filling her, her body expanding eagerly to take all of him.

It
was like every time they had made love before combined into one urgent
joining—their bodies meeting eagerly and hungrily the thrust of the other,
their hands seeking to pleasure the other, their mouths mingling and tasting
the other. And this time, this time when that exquisite, shattering explosion
of the senses was fading, when they became aware of the world again, there was
just each other—Christopher to cradle her body next to his, whispering soft
words of love in her ear, and Nicole to press herself to him, her lips gently
and tenderly slipping across his face.

It
was a beginning between them. The beginning of something so fragile that the
merest breath could destroy it, and only the coming months, and perhaps even
years, would tell if what was between them now could grow and gain strength,
flourish and take root, until not even death itself could destroy it.

There
was little doubt in anyone's mind that the British were determined to take New
Orleans, seize control of the lower Mississippi, and open the subcontinent
nearby to the British crown. Even the peace talks in Ghent added to the British
desire to take the city from the Americans; Lord Liverpool had remarked to the
Duke of Wellington that "it is very desirable that the American war should
terminate with a brilliant success."

Fortunately
Andrew Jackson was now very much aware of the British intentions with regard to
New Orleans, and he had written to Colonel Butler that "there will be
bloody noses" before he would allow the conquest of New Orleans to happen.
But Jackson made the dangerous assumption that when the attack came it would
not be from the coast. He believed that the attack would be mounted from
Mobile, and based on that surmise, he ordered mobilization of militia in
Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky.

Jackson
was on the move from that point on. He ordered fresh supplies, men, and guns to
a strategic fort on a long east-west spit that all but closed the mouth of
Mobile Bay, reinforced Mobile itself, and sent more troops to Baton Rouge. On
November seventh he marched into Spanish Florida and with some four thousand
men stormed Pensacola, capturing Forts St. Rose and St. Michael; the English
garrison withdrew to ships offshore after blowing up Fort Barrancas. That
victory, while having diplomatic repercussions, gave the Americans their first
view in months of the British in retreat. Feeling he had done his best to
enmesh the British, Jackson departed for New Orleans to prepare the city for
any eventuality.

Christopher
was seated in Jason's library on the day the news came that the general was on
his way to New Orleans. Straightening from his relaxed position, he remarked,
"Well that's something! Maybe now our citizens will shake off their
terrible apathy."

Smiling
almost ruefully, Jason commented, "Do you think so? I tell you,
mon ami
,
I have my doubts. The legislators are bickering amongst themselves, the
committee of public safety is competing with the committee of defense, and
although Claiborne has mobilized the militia, that order has been ignored by
anyone who does not wish to serve! We are in a sorry state, and I wonder if
even such a magnificent general as Jackson can do anything to change
matters."

There
was too much truth in what Jason said to dismiss it lightly, and Christopher
was still mulling it over in his mind when they joined the ladies about half an
hour later. Nicole, quick to sense his mood, sent him an inquiring glance, and
while Christopher smiled at her reassuringly, she was not fooled.

The
Saxons' visit to the Savages' was a combination of pleasure and business.
Christopher and Jason had disappeared into the library to discuss the latest
military developments, while Nicole and Catherine enjoyed each other's company.
The friendship between the two women had grown rapidly, because they were
English, and because they were married to extremely provocative and dynamic men.
At first Nicole had been shy with the older woman, but as the days passed, she
had discovered that behind Catherine's ladylike air, were a lively sense of
humor and some shockingly unorthodox ideas. They had not reached the point
where they laid bare all the secrets of their pasts, but Catherine made Nicole
feel relaxed and often made her giggle at the tactics she used so blatantly to
circumvent her autocratic husband. That Jason Savage was like clay in his
wife's small hands and that she adored him grew more apparent each time she saw
them, and wistfully she wondered if someday she and Christopher would be as
close and so obviously in love as the Savages.

After
their call on the Savages Nicole and Christopher sat before the fire in one of
the smaller, cozier rooms of the Dauphine Street residence. Nicole was still
concerned about Christopher's preoccupation after his conversation with Jason,
and she asked abruptly "What did Jason tell you that was so
worrisome?"

Christopher
glanced up in surprise from some business papers he had been quietly reading.
"Nothing very important, sweet," he said carelessly. "Merely
some political news, and nothing for you to bother your beautiful head
over."

Exasperated,
Nicole glared at him and snapped, "I am not an idiot! Why do you treat me
like one? And if you don't want to tell me what was said, why don't you just
come out and say it?"

Christopher
sighed, staring at the charming portrait she made sitting across from him on a
couch of rose damask. Her hair was demurely pulled back into a chignon of curls
at the nape of her neck, revealing the fine delicate bones of her face, and a
discarded embroidery frame lying near her gave the deceptive impression of
domesticity. What was he going to tell her?

He
hadn't meant to treat her like an idiot, and he didn't really blame her for
being somewhat angry at his noncommittal answer to her reasonable question. But
by the same token, he had no intention of discussing the current situation with
Nicole, for two reasons. First, he didn't quite trust her; he was not sure
precisely where her loyalties lay. He knew it was highly unlikely that she
would find a way to pass any information to the British, but he was taking no
chances. His second reason was simply that he did not want her to worry; in fact,
he would have preferred to install her safely at Thibodaux House until all
danger was past, but he knew Nicole would want to be right in the middle of
whatever overtook the city. Hiding in the background was not her way, and he
would not have had her any other way.

Seeing
his smile, Nicole's temper rose, and she demanded, "Well? Aren't you even
going to answer me?"

With
a laugh Christopher said, "Calm down, spitfire! You have the hottest
temper I have ever known! Yes, I'll answer your question." Rising
leisurely from behind the desk, he walked over to where she sat and joined her
on the couch. With one arm along the back of the couch, he drawled, "I'm
sorry you think that I treated you like an idiot, but I can't see why you are
interested in what Jason and I discussed."

A
little ashamed at how quickly she had grown angry, Nicole muttered, "I do
not mean to be a prying wife and I don't really care what you two discussed.
What I cared about was that you were obviously perturbed about the
conversation. Is it so wrong of me to want to know what was disturbing you? If
our positions were reversed wouldn't you feel the same way?"