Sweet Silken Bondage (19 page)

"Miss Isabel. .may I have this dance?" Lucien
Picard, a handsome, fair-haired young man of average height, asked just as the music began again.

"Why, yes, Lucien. I'd love to dance with you,"

Reina answered, giving him her most enchanting
smile as he took her glass from her and set it aside
and then took her hand. He drew her away from
her crowd of admirers.

All the other ardent bachelors who'd gathered
around stifled groans of defeat and fought down
their jealousy as they watched their contemporary
escort the beautiful Isabel Nunez out onto the dance
floor and gather her into his arms. Lucien was a
known rake, and they felt definitely outclassed in
any effort to win her away from him.

Each and every man, though, thought Isabel a
stunning woman, and each and every one of them
wanted to be the man holding her. Her ebony hair
was done up in a tumble of soft curls that begged a
man's touch. The pale gold satin, off-the-shoulder
ball gown she wore was the perfect foil for her dark
beauty. The decolletage was cut low enough to hint
at the tempting flesh restrained there, but the
deeper gold and cream-colored satin rosette edging
added just the right touch of modesty to her sensuous, enticing display. The skirt was full, flaring out
from her slender waist, and it swayed gracefully
about her as Lucien whirled her about the room.
Reina looked the seductive temptress, a woman
well-versed in the ways of men, and the men all
hoped she'd be in town visiting with the Delacroixs
for some time to come.

When the music ended, Emilie appeared at
Reina's side and whisked her off to freshen up
before another young gallant could take the opportunity to invite her to dance. Lucien watched her
go, his gaze hot upon her as he followed her progress from the room. Only when she'd disappeared
from sight into the hallway did he move off to
mingle with the other available women.

"Well?" Emilie asked, her eyes alight and twinkling as they started side by side up the winding staircase that led to the second floor where several
rooms had been set aside just for the ladies.

"Well, what?" Reina countered, struggling to keep
from breaking into a smile.

"I hate to be an `I told you so,' but I told you so.
You are having a good time, aren't you?"

"You know I am" she admitted with good grace.
"I'm glad you talked me into coming along."

"So am I," Emilie agreed. "It's good to see you
relaxed and acting like yourself again. I still don't
think I've gotten over finding you in that nun's
outfit."

"I wonder if I'll ever get over it.. .any of it."

"Now, Isabel, I thought we made a deal this
afternoon. You promised you weren't going to
worry tonight. You said you were going to come
here and have a good time and forget all about
your father."

"I am having a good time. It's just that I still
don't know why I was so afraid this afternoon. I
don't usually get that upset, but for some reason I
was really frightened." Reina shivered a little as she
remembered the great sense of impending doom
that had gripped her for no apparent reason earlier
that day.

"I know," Emilie sympathized. "But it doesn't really matter any more. You're here and everything's
fine, just like I told you it would be"

"You're right," Reina dismissed her worries. Tonight, Reina Alvarez didn't exist. Tonight, she was
Isabel Nunez. "Everything is going just fine."

"Well... almost just fine," she returned with tart
good humor.

"What do you mean?" Reina paused on the step
to look questioningly at her friend.

"Do you suppose..." Emilie paused for effect,
then asked in mock seriousness, "that you could
throw a few of your admirers back so that the rest of us, lesser female mortals might have one or two
to choose from?"

"Lesser female mortals?" Reina laughed out loud
at her friend's wry humor. "Emilie, you look positively wonderful tonight, and you know it! That
pink gown suits you perfectly, and your hair is
lovely when you wear it down like that."

"Thank you," she chuckled, "now tell all the men!"

Reina sobered for a minute as she touched her
arm in a gesture of confidence. "Emilie, you, of all
people, should know that men are the very last
thing on my mind right now. You can take your
pick of them any time you want."

"Well, I have to get their attention first, and that's
pretty hard to do considering the competition. If
only you'd shown up looking homely we might all
have had a better chance," she complained with a
smile.

"You're the one who picked out this dress for me,
Emilie!" Reina teased, remembering their shopping
spree the other day and how Emilie had insisted she
buy the golden gown.

"You're right. I've got excellent taste in clothes,"
Emilie scowled in humorous resentment. "If I'd been
thinking straight, though, I would have told you to
buy the high-necked, long-sleeved, pea green one
with the big, ugly yellow sash and bow."

Both young women broke into easy laughter at
the thought of the hideous gown the saleslady had
tried to convince them to purchase. They continued
on up the sweeping staircase out of sight, unaware
of the two tall, attractive men who'd just entered
the house and were standing in the foyer below.

Clay was tense with expectation as he entered the
Randolph mansion with his father. This was it.
Tonight was the night. Tonight, he would find out whether or not he'd wasted his time in coming to
Louisiana. Tonight, he hoped he would find Reina
Alvarez.

Clay had been thinking about Dev all day, and
his nerves were on edge as he followed his father
inside. They were greeted immediately by their host
and hostess, George Randolph, a robust, grayhaired man of some fifty years, and his lovely wife,
Anne, a graceful, blonde ten years his junior.

"Philip! Good to see you again! And Clay! I'm so
glad you were able to join us tonight. It's been a
long time." George shook hands with his two lontime friends and neighbors.

"That it has, but it's good to be back," Clay
responded warmly. He had always liked the Randolphs and had been good friends with their oldest
son, David, when he'd lived at home. "Is David
here tonight?"

"He most certainly is, and he's been waiting to
see you. Take a look in the study, Clay. He's probably in there."

"I will, thanks" He told his father he'd see him
later and started off down the hall toward the study
to find his old friend, David Randolph, hoping he
would be able to introduce him to the Delacroix
family as the evening progressed.

It was then as he crossed in front of the winding
staircase to the second floor that Clay heard the
lilting sound of feminine laughter echoing softly
down from above him. He froze in mid-stride. That
voice... Something about the one voice was so familiar to
him. He frowned, trying to place it in his memory.
Was it someone from his past or someone he'd met more
recently?

Curious, Clay glanced up quickly, trying to get a
look at the woman. But to his annoyance, he only
caught a quick glimpse of her back, of dark hair
and a golden gown as she disappeared from sight around the curve. Intrigued, he was about to follow
her upstairs when David emerged from the study.

"Clay! It's about time you got here!" David called
as he hurried forth to welcome him.

The two men had been opposites as boys and
little had changed during the intervening years.
Clay had always been tall, lean and strikingly handsome, while David had never managed to reach six
feet tall, was of average looks and was cursed with
the Randolph tendency toward being heavyset. Yet,
where Clay had always been so intense about life,
David had taken joy just in living. He was as open
and honest as Clay was introspective and private.
Still, they had been friends as boys, and seeing each
other again only reaffirmed that closeness.

They shook hands and then David ushered Clay
into the study and pressed a full tumbler of bourbon in his hand. Enveloped in the warmth of
David's friendship, Clay took a deep drink of the
expensive liquor. For a moment, he almost wished
that he could relax and enjoy the evening, maybe
even join in the poker game and just let the hours
pass sharing good companionship and excellent liquor. But thoughts of Dev, locked up and desperate
for his help, refused to let him rest.

Concentrating on the real reason he was there,
Clay paid close attention when David introduced
him to the men gathered in the smoke-filled room
playing cards. He returned their greetings, but it
was hard for him to hide the disappointment he'd
felt when there wasn't a Delacroix among them. At
David's urging, Clay told him of California, yet he
carefully avoided any reference to his real occupation and his real reason for being back in Louisiana.

Lucien had been biding his time in the ballroom
dancing with all the other available young women
while he waited impatiently for Isabel to return. When he heard that Clay, a friend from their boyhood years, was back, though, he excused himself
and immediately sought him out in the study.

"Lucien!" David hailed him as he entered the
room. "Clay's back!"

"So I heard! How many years has it been?"
Lucien hurried across the room to join them.

"Too many, I'm afraid," Clay answered as they
clasped hands. Lucien's reputation with the ladies
was legendary. He had already been quite the manabout-town when Clay had left all those years ago,
and Clay couldn't resist bringing it up. "Where's
your date for the evening or have you broken all
their hearts and gotten yourself married?"

"I haven't married yet, Clay," the easy-going Casanova confided. "But, I swear, the woman who could
own my heart is in attendance tonight."

Clay and David both erupted into laughter, remembering all the other times Lucien had declared
himself madly in love.

"Things certainly haven't changed much," Clay
managed, still chuckling.

"This time is different," Lucien declared.

"Oh, really?" David put in with a grin. "And just
who is this paragon of virtue? Perhaps Clay and I
should have a look at her..."

"She is the lovely Miss Nunez, and I'm declaring
her off limits to you two. She's mine"

"Isabel is lovely," David agreed. "But when I saw
her earlier, I got the distinct impression that she's
not ready to settle down to any one man."

"It is true that she's proving to be quite a challenge," he admitted reluctantly. "She's as elusive as a
butterfly."

"Even butterflies can be caught with the right
net," David pointed out.

"Who is this Isabel Nunez? Do I know her?" Clay
asked casually, after listening to their good-natured banter. He knew of most of the people in the area
and had never heard of a Nunez family.

"No," David replied. "She's here visiting relatives."

Clay's interest was piqued by that bit of news. A
visitor from out of town ...He knew he had to
ask. "Who's she related to?"

"The Delacroixs," Lucien answered.

Clay had to fight to-keep his excitement from
showing. If Reina Alvarez had been smart enough
to escape California without detection, then she'd
certainly be smart enough to think of using an alias
when she got here to Louisiana. He tried to remain
coolly composed as he suggested, "Why don't we go
on out to the ballroom so you can introduce me to
this girl? She sounds absolutely intriguing."

Lucien protested, "I told you she was mine."

"Only if she agrees, Lucien," David remarked,
laughing, thinking that a rivalry between the two
men for Isabel Nunez would certainly liven up the
evening.

Neither David nor Lucien noticed the slight hardening of Clay's features as they jokingly sparred
over who would win the beautiful, young woman.
Nor were they aware of the sudden tautness in
Clay's manner as he refilled his glass and followed
them from the study.

"Who is that?" nineteen-year-old, blond-haired, voluptuous Mirabelle Mosley whispered excitedly to
her friend, Rose Jackson, as they stood with several
other of the young ladies near the refreshment
table.

"Who's who?" Rose was near-sighted, but she
refused to wear her spectacles to any social occasion. She knew she was ordinary looking, with her
mousy brown hair color and her slim, almost boyish
figure, and she had no desire to make herself ap pear even less attractive. So, nearly blind, if the
truth be told, she hadn't even noticed the three men
when they'd entered the room.

"Over there!" Mirabelle turned her in the right
direction and pointed as discreetly as she could
toward Clay. "The man who just came in with
Lucien and David."

Rose squinted as she tried to focus on the bachelors. Straining to see, she frowned as she concentrated. When the stranger came into focus, she
smiled widely. "I don't know who he is, but he sure
is a good-looking devil..."

Mirabelle smiled delightedly as she studied the
stranger. She decided without a doubt that he was
the most fantastic specimen of manhood she'd ever
seen. Tall, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped, his
dark good looks were accented by his snowy white
shirt and cravat and by his expensively cut, perfectly tailored suit. She could hardly wait to dance
with him, let alone maneuver him out onto the
balcony for a few moments of privacy. But she
wasn't sure just how to go about getting an introduction.

"Now, Mirabelle, I know that look..." Rose
cautioned.

"Oh, hush, Rosie!" she hissed, not taking her eyes
off the stranger. "Don't spoil this!"

"Mirabelle!" There was a definite note of warning
in her practical friend's tone.

"Rosie, how often does a good-looking man like
that come around?"

"Not very often, but you don't want to go making
a fool out of yourself."

"Who says I'm going to make a fool out of
myself?" Mirabelle defended.