Sweet Silken Bondage (20 page)

"I do. Don't you remember when-"

"Of course I remember, but this is different."
Mirabelle cut Rose off before she could say more.

"It is not!" her friend insisted. "Think about it!
The last man you thought was irresistible and
chased all over town impressing him with your
money and beauty, turned out to be a cad of major
proportions! He almost got you to the altar. You
can't be so trusting, Mirabelle, or in such a hurry.
It's a good thing your father found out about him
and how he was only after your dowry before you
went through with the wedding."

At the vivid reminder of her last ill-fated excursion on the sea of love, Mirabelle blushed furiously.
"I was blinded by love."

"Love, hah," Rose scorned. "You didn't love him.
You were blinded by the thought of holy matrimony, and let me tell you, I've got a feeling that it's
not as great as everyone lets us think it is."

"You're so cynical, Rosie," she pooh-poohed her
friend's arguments.

"Not cynical, just honest. Take your time, Mirabelle. What's your hurry? If you go rushing over
there to meet this new man, he'll think you're too
aggressive, and it'll end up just like all the other
times. Remember Arthur Edison?"

She groaned at the mere mention of the man's
name, another one of the men she'd mistakenly
thought would be perfect for her.

"Enough, Rosie! You've made your point. I already told you this time will be different," she told
her, but even as she spoke the thought of the ripe
old age of twenty looming on her personal horizon
spurred her on.

"Different?" the other girl spoke up. "How?"

Mirabelle was watching the newcomer across the
room and could wait no longer to try to meet him.
"Oh, never mind," she dismissed, and she started
across the dance floor, leaving her friend standing
there, aghast that all her good advice had gone
unheeded.

"I can't watch..." Rose whispered to herself in
humorous agony. Fearful of what her friend might
do, she hurried from the ballroom and went upstairs.

When the men discovered that Isabel Nunez was
nowhere to be found, Clay was as disappointed as
Lucien, but he kept his feelings hidden behind a
mask of congeniality.

"I guess she and Emilie haven't come back downstairs yet," Lucien remarked idly.

Clay stiffened at his words... haven't come back
downstairs yet. He realized then that it had probably
been Reina Alvarez he'd heard talking on the steps
earlier. Clay wondered why she'd sounded so familiar to him when he had never met her before.
There was no way he should have recognized her
voice.

Thinking of the golden-gowned woman again,
Clay let his gaze sweep the crowded room for her,
but to his disappointment his search turned up
nothing.

"Look out, gentlemen," Lucien said with a grin.

"For what?" Clay asked, glancing up to see a
lovely, blond-haired woman heading their way. For a
moment, he feared that Lucien was telling him this
was Isabel Nunez. The momentary rise in his spirits threatened to fall. Reina Alvarez was no blonde.

"Mirabelle's coming." He gave a slight nod in her
direction.

"Mirabelle?" Clay was relieved that this wasn't the
woman he was searching for.

"Mirabelle Mosley," David replied.

"What about her?" Clay asked his two companions, thinking the woman in the form-fitting, emerald satin gown looked positively luscious.

"She's in the market for a husband, and it looks like tonight she's got her sights set on you," Lucien
answered.

"I'm not the marrying kind," he said firmly.

"Convince Mirabelle, not me," David said.

"Why hasn't one of you obliged her?" Clay was
curious, since she was so pretty. "She's easy enough
on the eyes."

"She has money, too, but when I marry, I want it
to be my idea. I'd like to be the one making the
proposal," Lucien said with his usual male arrogance.

"And I'm like you, Clay, I'm not the marrying
kind either," David managed before he was forced to
play the host and introduce them.

Rose dashed into the sitting room that had been
set aside for the ladies to take their rest. When she
made out Emilie sitting in a wingchair, she groaned
out loud, "You're just not going to believe it!"

"Believe what, Rose?" Emilie asked, looking up
from where she sat talking with Reina.

Rose's expression suddenly became reserved when
she realized that they were not alone. Emilie hurried to put her at ease, quickly making the introductions.

"Oh, Rose, this is my cousin, Isabel. Isabel, this
is Rose Jackson, a very dear friend."

"Hello." The women exchanged greetings.

"You can trust Isabel completely, Rose. I know I
do. Now what is it that's got you so excited?"

"It's Mirabelle... again," she began to explain,
rolling her eyes heavenward.

"Mirabelle?" Emilie had to chuckle. She and Rose
had been following the other girl's search for a
husband, and she could hardly wait to hear. "What's
she up to this time?"

"Well he came into the ballroom with Lucien and David and..."

"He, who?"

"I don't know his name, but he's just about the
best looking man I've ever seen."

"You don't know him?"

"No. I've never set eyes on him before tonight,
but I sure hope I see him again," Rose sighed,
wishing that someday a man like that one would
pay her court. Realizing suddenly that she was
dreaming, she forced herself to continue, "Anyway,
Mirabelle took one look at him and swore he was
the one for her."

"Oh, no, not again!"

"Oh, yes, again!"

"What did she do?"

"I don't know for sure. When she started walking
over to meet him, I left."

Emilie knew the stranger had to be pretty special
to get Mirabelle to go back on the vow she'd made
a month ago never to openly pursue another man
as long as she lived. Obviously, she'd changed her
mind.

"Mirabelle's a beautiful girl, and there's a lot of
men who would enjoy her attentions."

"I know, but why can't she wait for them to come
after her? Why does she always have to go after
them first? You'd think she'd learned her lesson by
now."

"I have to admit I'm curious about him. He must
be something wonderful if she broke that solemn
oath she made to us," Emilie mused.

"He is - tall, dark and handsome with a great
physique..." Rose affirmed.

"I wonder where he's from..."

"I don't know, but I bet by the time the party
ends, Mirabelle will."

"Shall we go get a look at him?"

"Why not?" Reina agreed.

Reina didn't know why, but as she followed Emilie and Rose downstairs, unbidden thoughts of Clay
Cordell assailed her. Logically, she supposed he was
on her mind because the man Rose had described
sounded so much like him. The bounty hunter had
been one very attractive man...

Reina suddenly scolded herself for her silly romantic notions about Cordell. He'd been a hired
gun with a job to do. The only thing he'd been
interested in was finding Reina Alvarez and taking
her home. Pushing his memory from her, she swept
on down the staircase a few steps behind Emilie
and Rose.

Reina reached the second step from the bottom
just as the music ended. For some reason she
couldn't fathom, she paused there and glanced up
into the ballroom just then. To her utter horror,
across the distance, her eyes met and locked with a
pair of chilling silver ones.

Though he'd been giving the impression of having
a wonderful time, Clay's mood had been strained as
he'd danced with Mirabelle. She was a lovely young
woman, but he had no time or interest in a flirtation of any kind. Only Reina Alvarez occupied his
thoughts.... only Reina.

Clay grew angry every time he thought of the
terrible hardships Reina's spoiled little rich girl's
antics had caused other people. He knew the
woman he sought was nothing more than a selfserving witch, and it was going to do his heart good
to turn her over to her father just as soon as
possible.

Since he'd become convinced that she might be
there at the ball, Clay was filled with a renewed
sense of urgency. He wanted this whole ordeal to be
over. He wanted to confront his prey and head back to California with her as soon as possible. He had
his plan of action ready to be set in motion. All he
had to do was locate her.

It happened then, just as the music ended and
Clay was escorting Mirabelle from the dance floor.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of
gold out in the hall, and he looked up. There,
standing several steps up from the bottom of the
staircase, her luxurious dark hair piled up on top of
her head in a stylish fashion, her shoulders bared in
the exquisite golden gown, stood Sister Mary Regina...

Clay went completely still, and only his wellhoned, rigid self-control kept him from revealing
anything in that instant. Sister Mary Regina? At first,
her name tumbled wildly through his thoughts in
questioning disbelief, but he soon sobered. Sister
Mary Regina was here-and she was dressed for the
ball.

Suddenly, with the memory of her voice echoing
hauntingly through him, it all became perfectly
clear. He'd been royally duped. He'd been made to
look the fool. There was no Sister Mary Regina.
He'd been right all along. Dear little Miss Alvarez
had been on the stagecoach, just as he'd believed.
Clay would have bet his last dollar right then that
she was masquerading tonight as none other than
the Delacroixs' cousin Isabel Nunez just in case her
father had sent someone back here looking for her.

Clay was livid, and he tensed in his outrage. He
wondered how he could have been so stupid. He
berated himself for being taken in by her disguise
and for forgetting the ultimate truth he'd learned
about women so long ago. There were no sweet,
honest, innocent ones. There were no Sister Mary
Reginas out there. They were all lying, deceitful
bitches just like his mother! Viciously, he told
himself he would never forget again.

"Clay? Is something the matter?" Mirabelle asked
sweetly. She was clinging to his arm, and though he
showed no outward sign of being upset, the sudden
tautening of his muscles beneath her hand had
puzzled her.

"Why, no, Mirabelle. There's nothing wrong,"
Clay lied. He was angry, but very excited at the
same time. He realized, though, that he couldn't let
Reina know that he'd recognized her. This was no
place for a confrontation. He had to let her think
that her earlier disguise had fooled him completely.
It took a tremendous effort on his part, but Clay
managed to keep his expression carefully schooled
into one of just passing male appreciation.

For the first time since Mirabelle had approached
him, Clay was glad for her presence. She provided
the perfect distraction as he fought to curb his
turbulent emotions. With an ease born of seeming
nonchalance, he turned away from Reina and back
to Mirabelle. Giving her an engaging smile, he
bent toward her with implied intimacy. "Why don't
we have something to drink?"

Yet as Clay led Mirabelle to the refreshment
table, playing his role to the hilt, he was filled with
anxiety. He wanted to look back and see if Reina
was still there. He feared that she might have panicked and run, but he hoped and prayed she hadn't.
The next few minutes would tell. If she'd disappeared, he knew he would have to go after her or
risk losing her all over again. He remained on edge
as he awaited the opportunity to find out.

Reina was poised for flight as she'd watched Clay
and waited. Dear Lord! It was Clay Cordell! Fear had
clutched at her heart as she'd gone suddenly cold.
She'd wanted to run, to flee from the terror that Clay Cordell represented, but his silver eyes had
held her pinioned. She'd remained frozen in place,
unable to move or speak and barely able to breathe.
It had been a climactic moment as his gaze held
hers, but then, as quickly as it had happened, it
had been over. Clay had turned his back on her
and moved off in the opposite direction across the
ballroom with the lovely, blond woman holding possessively onto his arm and gazing up at him with
open adoration.

Reina began to tremble uncontrollably, and she
clutched the banister for support as her knees
threatened to buckle. Clay Cordell was there! She
swallowed nervously as panic pounded through her,
and she struggled not to lose control.

A part of Reina wanted to rush from the ball and
leave Louisiana, but her more logical side asserted
itself. Yes, Clay Cordell was there, she told herself, but
so what? He hadn 't recognized her! Surely, knowing how
bulldoggedly determined he was to find her, if he'd
recognized her either as herself or as Sister Mary
Regina, he would have come at her right then. He
would never, ever just have walked away.

As blessed sanity reasserted itself, Reina's thundering heart slowed to a more normal pace. Hadn't
she suspected that someone might come to Louisiana looking for her? Wasn't that precisely why she'd
chosen to use the name Isabel Nunez? She had to
relax.