Spring Fires (51 page)

"Would you prefer to explain your past to him?" Gabrielle whispered with a small wicked smile.

"D'accord!"
Angelique wanted to scream, but somehow managed to exclaim softly, "You are a cruel person to blackmail me with something that happened when I was so young and foolish."

"Would Dudley accept your excuses?"

"Perhaps." She lifted her chin.

"Would you care to find out?"

"No." Angelique breathed nervously.

Gabrielle opened the door. At four o'clock in the morning, even Berkeley Square's nightingales were asleep. "Shall we go?"

* * *

Luxuriating in the lean-muscled arm that held her near, Lisette nuzzled Nicholai's shoulder and sighed contentedly. "You smell wonderful!"

"So do you." He smiled.

"Like croissants and brioches?"

"Even better!" Nicholai grinned and lifted a glass of champagne to his mouth. "You taste better, too."

"Flatterer!" She laughed softly. Surely this was a dream and morning would find her back in her bed in the Raveneaus' house in Hanover Square. Dream or not, she would enjoy to the fullest sitting with Nicholai against plump down pillows, sipping champagne as moonlight streamed through the parted bed hangings. His body, warm, hard, and familiar against her own, was a potent source of euphoric pleasure. "Tell me, now, when did you realize that Giselle Amstetten was actually me? Did I forget my accent in my anger tonight?"

Nicholai choked on his champagne, apparently hugely amused. "Please! You underestimate me, my sweet. I knew it was you at Vauxhall!"

"Liar! You only say that to make me feel foolish! If you knew it was me, why did you not say so?"

"And miss that stellar performance? Watching you play the wealthy, love-starved widow, garbed in satins and velvets and dripping with jewels, has been the most fun I have had in months!" He touched the spot where she had worn the patch. "I especially liked that little detail. Would Lisette Hahn have ever affected such—"

"Stop gloating!" She cuffed his hand away. "I want you to tell me how you knew—exactly when you realized, and why."

"Actually, I knew in my gut even before Vauxhall, but my logical brain convinced me I was having an hallucination." Nicholai glanced over to find Lisette looking charmingly perplexed. How lovely she was! The first thing he had done after soundly making love to her was to take down her hair and brush out the light dusting of powder. Now, her long disheveled curls gleamed in the moonlight, reminding him of his first night at Markwood Villa, when he'd awakened to find an angel with cool soft hands perched on the edge of the bed....

"What do you mean?" prompted Lisette.

"I—oh, sorry." He smiled and kissed her with feeling as tears pricked his eyes. "Let's see... where was I? Oh, yes. Well, before Vauxhall, I saw you and Devon Raveneau draw up in front of Whitloaf's mansion in an open landau. You two were pointing and whispering." He laughed. "For God's sake, Lisette, you needn't look at me so accusingly! I wasn't spying on you; I just happened to look out my window!"

"Oh..." she moaned, "when I think of all the trouble and expense Devon and I went to—and all our plans were thwarted even before we began to carry them out!"

"Not exactly. As I said, I thought you were a figment of my lovesick imagination... until you appeared again that night at Vauxhall, and still I told myself that it was a coincidence. I reacted just as you and Devon meant me to, until she came over to be introduced and I realized, after a moment's confusion, that she had been the other person in the landau that morning, accompanying a girl who had looked much more like my Lisette, with loose long blond hair, a simpler dress, and no paint or patches."

Nicholai paused to set aside his champagne, then took her glass and placed it on the nightstand also. Yearning to feel her lush body against the length of his again, he drew her with him under the covers. "Still... I wasn't completely certain until we were alone in that grotto. Did you imagine that I could forget your kiss? The sweet taste of your mouth?" Nicholai demonstrated, for emphasis, until a ravenous Lisette lay atop his powerful body and feasted on his intoxicating kisses. "Did you actually think that some other woman could have skin as soft as yours?" he murmured at length, running his hands up her thighs, lingering on the firm curves of her derriere, then softly caressing the elegant line of her back. "And your breasts..."

She smiled, remembering how he had managed to expose one breast that night at Vauxhall... doubtless to aid in confirming her true identity!

"But, Nicholai, what about Gabrielle? When you saw her again, did the magic return? If I hadn't turned up in London, would you be in her bed tonight? I find it a bit difficult to believe that you are planning to accompany her to France solely out of a sense of obligation!"

"I wouldn't accompany her across the street if I could avoid it, let alone to France," he replied evenly.

"I'm not one to accept every glib story offered, you know," Lisette was continuing, seemingly unaware of Nicholai's words. "I wasn't born yesterday! You mustn't think that I'm spreading tales just so that I can have you all to myself, because that's not it at all. It isn't right for her to practice such deception and get away with it, especially when your life could be in danger as a consequence—" All at once she broke off, straightening her arms to stare down at him through silvery blue shadows. "Did you say that you would not accompany Gabrielle to France?" Her voice was a perplexed whisper, as though she were certain she'd been hearing things.

"I did. I wouldn't have gone with her even if it were really her brother she's been searching for instead of that slimy
comte."

"You know?" gasped Lisette. "How long?"

"I've suspected for a long time, and made up my mind to sever ties with Gabrielle before I knew the truth for certain. Actually, I probably would have turned back for Philadelphia the first day if not for my chivalrous instincts"—Nicholai's voice was acid with sarcasm—"and my genuine affection for Gabrielle's brother... who, it would seem, has been dead for some time."

Lisette shook her head as though in shock. "I cannot believe my ears! You've stolen all my thunder. The shocking exposure of Gabrielle was my excuse for coming home with you tonight. I was sacrificing my pride to save you from boarding that ship for France!" She paused and stared down at him, arching one delicate brow. "Where
were
you planning to go?"

"Nowhere at all without you, sweetheart," Nicholai drawled, then gave her a mischievous smile. "I was just getting bored waiting for you to conclude your little game... and even more impatient to have you right where you are now, so I forced your hand."

"You are shameless. An unscrupulous rogue." Lisette was smiling as he drew her face down and brought their mouths together in a slow burning kiss.

"There is another reason why I couldn't sail to France with Gabrielle tomorrow," he murmured at length.

"Mmm. What?"

"I have other plans."

Lisette rolled onto her side and hooked a graceful leg over Nicholai's lean hip. "Pray enlighten me," she responded absently. Her fingers were in the soft crisp hair that covered his chest and she hesitantly kissed one nipple, then touched it with her tongue.

"I cannot possibly go to France because I will be very busy at church." Lightning shot from her persistent mouth to his groin. "Busy," he ground out, "marrying you, you insatiable vixen! God's eyes, stop that before you drive me mad!"

All at once, his arms were around her, pressing her into the pillows, and Lisette's lilting laughter filled the bed. "I promise to behave. After all, I'd be unwise to marry a madman, wouldn't I?"

He wondered if acute happiness could shatter one's heart. "I love you excessively, Mistress Hahn."

Their lips were clinging, pausing, tasting, while Lisette's slim fingers boldly found the hard proof of Nicholai's passion for her. "Mr. Beauvisage, I—"

He silenced her with a deep warm kiss as she guided him into her body. Nicholai didn't need to hear her say that she loved him. He was all too aware that nothing short of kidnapping by an army could have brought Lisette to London and caused her to act out that touching masquerade unless her love for him was so powerful she hadn't been able to bear life without him. He was well acquainted with such desperate emptiness....

They made love slowly, glorying in each exquisite sensation.

Afterward, they had no wish to break their bodies' embrace. Flushed and rosy, Lisette sighed dreamily and trailed a fingertip over a muscled arm and shoulder, then traced every feature of the face she loved so well. "I adore your hair," she whispered. "It ruffles very attractively, and curls just so at your neck..."

"The wine's gone to your head," he replied fondly, amused.

"I've always been afraid to compliment you, to let you know how special you've always been to me. Exposing my feelings now is terrifying and—"

"And?" he prompted.

"Exciting. Liberating."

They kissed tenderly for long minutes, communicating with an eloquence that far surpassed words.

"I cannot believe that we are actually going to be together from now on," Lisette whispered in wonderment.

"How do you feel about that? Are you worried that marriage will usurp your identity?"

"It's hard to break old patterns." Lisette smiled, pausing for a moment to choose the right words to explain the changes her thinking had undergone since their parting in Philadelphia.

"I've been thinking a lot about the old problems in our relationship—and those old habits that tripped us up so many times," Nicholai was saying. Lisette beamed in the darkness, amazed at the rapport between their minds.

"What have you decided?" she asked.

"One of the main reasons I love you so much is that backbone of spirited independence that makes you shine in any setting. Admitting our love and need for one another doesn't mean that one of us has to submit to the other's will." He groaned. "Promise that you'll never be
obedient!"

"I swear it!" She giggled delightedly.

"I'm sure that the solution must be a marriage of lovers and friends—with common goals and mutual respect. We'll each have an equal say in decisions and
we'll have to learn to compromise!"

"Perhaps we could still argue sometimes just to spice things up—" Lisette was laughing, but she tingled with excitement at the picture Nicholai painted of their future together. "We don't want to be reasonable to the point of stuffiness!"

"Granted—you vixen!" Abruptly, he caught her up and began to tickle her. Lisette shrieked with outraged laughter and was squirming to free herself in a way that rekindled the embers of their desire. Then, just as they sank into the pillows, wrestling and kissing at the same time, a loud banging at the front door broke the spell.

"What the devil?" Nicholai exclaimed irritably. "Let me up. God only knows who is out there at this hour. I'd better answer it before the servants are roused."

Logic told her that it was probably nothing—a drunken acquaintance from one of the nearby clubs on Saint James Street—yet Lisette couldn't help admonishing, "Be careful, Nicholai."

The door knocker thumped again as he pulled on the breeches and shirt that lay on the rug. "Don't fret, love. I'll be right back."

Nicholai's bare feet were silent as he hurried downstairs. "Who the devil is it?"

"I am so sorry to bother you at this hour, M'sieur!" a familiar French-accented voice piped up from the top step outside. "It is I, Lady Angelique Whitloaf!"

He opened the door in consternation. "Angelique—do you have any idea what time it is? What is wrong?"

She was looking very pale and small. "Please, I implore you as a friend to let me come inside. I need only a minute of your time."

He shook his head in exasperation and led the way into the parlor. "What is it?"

Angelique's heart was beating wildly. She went to the fireplace and turned around so that Nicholai would be forced to have his back to the door. In a trembling voice, she told him the story that Gabrielle had concocted—all about the terrible sad condition of her friend who had done nothing but weep ever since he broke her heart. Explaining that Gabrielle had forbidden her to speak to Nicholai, Angelique said that this had been the only time she could come, to beg him to reconsider.

"At four-thirty in the morning? Are you mad?"

Around his shoulder, Angelique saw the front door open slowly, silently, and then Gabrielle was creeping across the entryway. It was obvious that Nicholai was not going to stand still for much more of this conversation. How was she to keep him here? Then Angelique glimpsed a flash of silver near Gabrielle's hand before the other woman passed up the stairway.

Fool!
she screamed in her mind.
I've been a blind fool to believe that Gabrielle meant only to frighten or threaten that girl. She's going to kill her!

Angelique bolted around Nicholai and ran wildly into the entry hall. "Gabrielle!" she cried to the copper-haired figure who had nearly reached the upstairs hall.

"Go back, or I'll tell Dudley!"

She's mad,
thought Angelique dazedly. With a speed she never realized she possessed, she was running up the carpeted stairway. "I don't care. That's not important. You cannot do this—for your own sake,
ma chere amie!"

It was all over in a few seconds. Gabrielle wheeled around as though she would stab her own dearest friend, and the two women struggled. Somehow, Angelique managed to wrest the knife away, but not before Gabrielle lost her balance and tumbled down, down, down the long staircase.

Lisette, hastily clad in one of Nicholai's voluminous white shirts, came into the hall. Angelique stood silently, her face a mask of pain, while Nicholai knelt beside Gabrielle far below. After a long minute he glanced up.

"I think she's dead...."

Epilogue