sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  Her eyes widened, and she turned a deep shade of rose. She took a burgundy decanter from the sideboard and walked toward him. Her eyes sparkled like green crystal.

  "More wine?"

  Her soft, seductive voice caused an instant reaction. His tongue moved slowly across his lower lip. She leaned over him to pour. He caught a glimpse of her delicious curves and caught his breath as the delicate aroma of roses teased his senses. He closed his eyes as the fiery goddess rose again in his mind.

  Cold, wet wine filled his lap, followed by his partially full plate. Jamie’s roar echoed through the chateau, "Vixen!"

  Her tinkling laughter lingered in the air but she had disappeared.

  "Retribution then," he whispered.

  ~ * ~

  Nicolette threw her silver brush at the mirror when she noted her flaming face in the mirror then sprang to her feet and began to pace.

  "Zut! He is little more than an uncouth, uncivilized barbarian. I hate him!" she kicked the bedpost, then yelped and limped back to her dressing table. She sat on the stool with a thud and rubbed her throbbing foot.

  She gazed into the mirror and found a wanton stranger looking back at her. Why did she have such confusing thoughts and bewildering feelings? Remembering his touch embarrassed her one moment and excited her the next. A sudden shiver rushed down her arms as she thought of his kiss.

  "What is wrong with me?" she whispered. She wanted to blame him for her reckless behavior, but how could he be responsible for her traitorous body and melting responses?

  Again, she thought of the spiraling sweetness she felt when he touched her, and she groaned. Her fingertips traced her lower lip and the vivid memory of his kiss shot through her. "How can I ever face him again? I loved bathing at the lake, but I shall never go there again," she picked up a powder puff and threw it violently toward the mirror. It drifted gently to the floor leaving white dust in its wake.

  Nicolette’s fingertip moved to her lips again, slowly tracing back and forth. She closed her eyes only to have the image of his face lowering to hers burst into her thoughts. She groaned. A shiver raced along her arms as she remembered the feel of his strong, hard body. "What are you thinking?" Nicolette forced herself to remember Philippe, but her mind inevitably drifted back to the lake. Thoughts of Jamie were far too uncontrollable, and she became afraid to acknowledge her passionate thoughts.

  "No! I cannot do this! Philippe is the one I must marry! Philippe is the one I love, not Jamie!" her whisper echoed into the lonely room. "Jamie!" Nicolette put her head in her hands and looked back at her reflection.

  Her face grew pink and she laughed at the next embarrassing thought, "He called me a Goddess!" She giggled, made a face and scolded herself for the vanity of thinking of his words, then stood abruptly and walked to the window.

  Brilliant sunlight streamed in kissing her with its warmth. Her forefinger moved to her mouth and again she traced her lips. A shudder raced through her at the thought of Jamie’s broad shoulders and rippling muscles.

  "I am the one who is dishonest. I did respond to his kiss! So delicious...yet, I must stop this insanity!" she closed her eyes, only to see the deep blue fire in his gaze, then glanced down at the silky chemise floating about her and wondered how it appeared yesterday as it clung to her body. She felt her face flame again.

  Nicolette forced herself to return to reality, "He is a scoundrel, not the man of my dreams!" She returned to the dressing table then looked into the mirror as she uttered the words, hoping to convince herself, "He is simply a voyeur that should be punished for his boldness!"

  "Am I truly a wanton?" she looked back into the mirror, then wondered why she felt nothing when Philippe had kissed her.

  Dear God, what am I to do? "I have promised to marry Philippe. How I feel when Jamie touches me is unimportant! I will marry Philippe. I must fulfill my vow. I promised father I would stay here forever and so I shall."

  "Good morning, Mademoiselle."

  Nicolette jumped, then glanced at the mirror, "Marie, you surprised me!"

  She noted the wisps of hair that escaped Marie’s normally neat tresses. "Are you well?"

  Marie giggled, "Very well." She blushed, "I know we tell each other everything, yet something happened that I do not wish to share, at least not yet."

  Nicolette nodded, "I am not in the mood for conversation either. I had very little sleep last night."

  "So, are you the one who is unwell Mademoiselle?"

  "I am fine. I have a...headache."

  "Ah," Marie nodded, then handed her a paper. "I was told to give you this note."

  Nicolette placed it on the dresser, closed her eyes, and relaxed as Marie brushed her hair, allowing her thoughts to wander. It seemed unimaginable that she could not even remember Philippe’s visage. Instead, she found herself obsessed by thoughts of Jamie and found it confusing.

  Nicolette dressed in a rose colored, linen day gown with a low cut bodice covered by a white, lace fichu tied in the center, that covered her shoulders and the full curves. Emphasizing her trim waist, the flaring skirt pulled gracefully away at the center in ever widening scallops to reveal yards of the exquisite Belgium lace.

  "Mademoiselle, you seem so far away," Marie smiled.

  Nicolette’s gaze snapped to the mirror. "I don’t mean to be," she smiled.

  Marie threaded a deep rose velvet ribbon through her curls then looked around the room. "You have not been riding?"

  Nicolette grinned when she saw the distress in Marie’s eyes, "Quit worrying! I’m fine." She squeezed Marie’s hand, "I must go downstairs. Would you please ensure the accommodations for Laird MacQueen’s men are adequate?"

  "Do not worry, Mademoiselle, they are well cared for, indeed, I have met one of them and he is handsome." Marie’s laughter echoed down the hallway as she left the room.

  Nicolette read the note sent by Laurent and wondered about his request, "It must be about Philippe." She smiled, "Of course, Philippe has decided not to wait and has already spoken to Laurent about our betrothal."

  Nicolette raced downstairs to the petite breakfast room then realized how late she had arrived for breakfast when Laurent was not there waiting for her. She poured a cup of chocolate, walked outside to the verandah, then down the steps to the gazebo. Sunlight filtered through leaves and blossoms that covered the latticed walls. She paced back and forth for a moment, then suddenly had an upsetting thought. Perhaps this request had nothing to do with Philippe. "Did Jamie tell him of the lake?" she whispered. Reaching for the tie of her lace fichu, she began twisting the end.

  She stomped her foot at the guilty thought, "Oh, zut!" Frustrated, she sat on a bench near the wall and sighed. Nicolette looked about, if anything could bring peace, this scene would. The deep blue lake reflected the fluffy white clouds in the sky, and a swan drifted serenely by, causing tiny ripples.

  "Why is my life not as uncomplicated as yours?"

  "And pray tell, beautiful Goddess, why is yours so complicated?"

  Surprised, Nicolette jumped to her feet and a scream, never uttered, tickled her throat.

  Jamie leaned against the doorway of the gazebo, with his arms crossed much the same as when she had first seen him. His eyes ignited into the same searing blue flames that were trapped in her memory. She began to tremble as his gaze swept over her. Something deep inside sparked a well-hidden inferno as her heart pounded in a primitive rhythm.

  His nearness caused riotous thoughts. She imagined the scene at the lake, with his open shirt, and his arms around her. She longed for his caress as much as she longed to touch him, and she hated the thought.

  "Sir, have you lost your way? If you are looking for Laurent, he should be in the library."

  Nicolette’s gaze moved to his lips, watching them as he spoke. She found her feelings impossible to deny. The thought of his kiss caused a new burst of excitement to explode within. The searing touch of his deep blue eyes embraced her as she reveled in the penetrating warmth of his gaze.r />
  "I haven’t lost my way. I came looking for you," his velvety voice, a teasing caress as he stepped nearer. "Now answer my question. Why is your life so complicated?"

  She stepped back and lowered her gaze. How could she tell him he was the cause? She could never admit his kiss had nearly robbed her of sanity.

  "I cannot say."

  "And why not? What can’t you say?" he whispered.

  Her gaze once more lowered to his lips then moved back to the blue fire of his eyes. She could almost feel the caress as his gaze moved to the top of her gown, then back to her lips. Flames shot through her, then shivers again rushed down her arms, as the strange feeling of butterflies deep within returned.

  She swallowed, "Because I do not know Monsieur. Now, why are you here and why do you seek me out?"

  Nicolette’s gaze drifted to his mouth as she waited for his reply. He did not speak and her gaze returned to his eyes, only to find his gaze riveted on her lips.

  "Why will you not answer my question? Are you a coward, my lady?" he smiled again, his gaze returning to hers, taunting her with the sparkling blue orbs. A moment of silence passed. "Why would I not seek you out, Nicolette? You have haunted my dreams."

  "Haunted your dreams?" A curious shiver moved down her arms as she watched his tongue slowly glide across his lower lip. His dreams? She looked to his chest half expecting an open shirt, the silk blowing softly in the wind.

  Instead, she found him formally dressed, with lace at the cuffs and a cravat at his neck. Her gaze swept over him. He wore a plain beige wool superfine coat. Dark brown, skintight breeches covered his masculine thighs to the knees, with cream hose and buckled shoes to complete his attire. For a moment, she found herself vaguely disappointed with the proper dress.

  She glanced back and he nodded imperceptibly. He had noted her gaze on his body, and her cheeks grew warm.

  "The moments at the lake and the later ones here are difficult to forget. Perhaps for us both?"

  Nicolette gasped, "Sir, you must disregard what happened, and never speak of it again!"

  He laughed, "Much easier said than done. I have thought of nothing but that last kiss. Yet, what of you, do you think of our rendezvous?"

  Nicolette’s fingertips moved back and forth over her lower lip. She gazed into his eyes then looked down to his full lips. How could she tell him what she thought? She could not! He must never know!

  "No, Monsieur I do not and I must beg you to forget as well," She looked beseechingly into his eyes.

  Jamie stepped closer, "Beg me if you will, command me if you must, but it will do little good. I will never banish the thought of those moments, or you, from my mind."

  Another shiver rushed down her neck, as his warm breath tickled her cheek. She glanced up and found his sizzling blue eyes were riveted to her mouth. She fought the urge to turn and run when the flames within seemed to burst to life. God help her, she wanted his touch!

  Her ragged voice wobbled, "Why must you distress me so?"

  "Distress you? The sweet agony of remembering your body close to mine is pure torture, that is what you have left me." Low and sensual, his voice stirred her. "Tell me, does the thought of our last kiss cause your blush? Or is it the memory of your own passionate response."

  Her gasp of outrage only made him laugh, and the joyous sound filled the garden.

  "Of course not! I have completely forgotten and so should you. Why did you come here? Why can’t you leave me alone?"

  He grinned, "I am destined to never leave your side, your beauty is far too compelling."

  "Cease this torment. Why are you here?"

  "Do you mean in France or here?" he waived his hand with a flourish. "In your beautiful garden?"

  "Here and now. I know why you came to France."

  He took a step nearer, almost touching her, "Do you?" Jamie hesitated, "I came here for you, and now that I have seen you, I realize that I would have searched the ends of the earth to find you, Goddess. I am drawn to you, like a bee to honey."

  His fingers swept her hand to his lips. Nicolette snatched it back, as if she had been burned.

  "God help me, I think of nothing else except the lake," his deep voice, a tortured whisper, "And you."

  "Jamie, don’t mention that again!"

  "Lass, I have warned you before, do not command me."

  She stepped back. Her hands flew up to press against his chest when she remembered his last chastening. She noted blue fire ignite his eyes with anger.

  "If you fear punishment for that plate in my lap, or the goose egg, you need not worry." Rubbing the back of his head, he smiled, "At least right now. Nay, retribution will be sweet and it will come, but not today."

  He smiled again, his deep voice almost teasing, "Now what is disturbing you, lass?"

  "Nothing!" she gasped. "I swear it!"

  "Your words tell me one thing but your eyes tell me another. Something confuses you. You are afraid, but this is not the time to discuss it. Now we must go to the library, Laurent is anxious to speak with you," He reached for her arm but she avoided his touch.

  "Yes, of course," Nicolette rushed out of the gazebo and up the steps, grateful for a reprieve. She stopped at the door then turned, "Why has he sent for me, do you know?" She looked into Jamie’s eyes and saw a flicker of surprise.

  "He has something to discuss, but he should tell you, not I," he walked past her.

  "Zut! Laurent knows of the lake. Is he angry?" she whispered.

  "Why would he? Did you tell him?" he grinned.

  Nicolette hurried into the chateau, pausing before entering the library to take several deep breaths.

  "No use putting off the inevitable." Jamie opened the door.

  Nicolette rushed forward, believing her only defense was to speak first, but before she could utter a word, her brother took her hand.

  "Nicolette, we have much to discuss," he led her to a gold brocade chair near the huge marble fireplace, then began to pace back and forth as his hands rolled and unrolled a piece of paper.

  His somber face surprised her. Jamie stood solidly behind her chair, almost protectively, and a feeling of dread overcame her.

  "Laurent, none of this was my fault. I swear it."

  "Of course not, Chere! It is mine, not yours. You are a beautiful girl. I should have taken you to Paris years ago. Yet, I believe in destiny and so this is for the best."

  Nicolette shook her head, "What are you talking about? I am confused." She took a deep breath, "Laurent, how can you be at fault? You knew nothing..."

  The tale Jamie gave him of the lake must have been dreadful. She turned, noting Jamie had moved toward the French doors, appearing as if he found the conversation extremely tedious. For a moment, Nicolette felt perversely irritated. She looked back, searching Laurent’s gaze, "Well then, why did you call me here?"

  "Nicolette, what have you done that makes you feel so guilty?"

  Her cheeks felt as though they were burning, "Nothing. Nothing at all." Confusion gave way to worry. She curled her hands in her lap and twisted tiny knots in her gown. "Please tell me, has..." she bit her tongue to keep from speaking Philippe’s name for he would have been furious if she had revealed their secret engagement. Then she had a startling thought as she suddenly realized this had nothing to do with him.

  Laurent stood directly in front of her. He turned and put the paper on the mantle. When she glanced up, an ominous feeling began to build. She had never seen her brother so somber.

  "What is wrong?" Nicolette asked, sitting completely still, her hands folded tightly.

  Laurent gave her a sad grin, "Nothing, Chere. In fact, everything is perfect, it is simply time to learn of your future. Please understand that I have made this decision out of my love for you."

  She turned, and looked behind her at Jamie, "I don’t think it is appropriate to speak of this now. I cannot believe that you wish to discuss our private business with a stranger in the room."

  "Jamie is my closes
t friend, and I have already spoken with him," Laurent turned away, placing his hands on the fireplace. "It concerns him as well."

  Her head whipped back as she turned to face her brother, "What do you mean? How could it concern him? He is a... Tell me, Laurent."

  "Chere, there are times when we all must do what is required of us."

  "I will fulfill my family obligations," Nicolette sighed. "I will remain here in our province and live at our chateau as I promised Father."

  "When women marry they live with their husbands and so shall you. Indeed, you will wed but you will not live here." Laurent put his hand on her shoulder, "Remember, I told you that I would take the situation into my own hands and choose your future husband some time ago?"

  Nicolette’s heart gave a frightened bound, Laurent sounded remorseful and she knew a moment of pure anguish. Her voice wobbled, "Laurent, what do you mean? What have you done?"

  "Nicolette, Jamie is your betrothed. Laird Jamie MacQueen is the man I have chosen for your husband."

  Everything suddenly became quiet. For a moment Nicolette heard a roaring in her ears, and she feared she might faint. She pushed Laurent’s hand away and noted the implacable purpose written in his gaze. Her throat constricted with fear. Her voice shook as she replied, "You don’t mean this! Please tell me you are teasing."

  Laurent began to pace again, "Chere, I would not taunt you so unkindly. This is your betrothed, the man I wish you to marry."

  Nicolette jumped to her feet, "No! You cannot do this! Of all men, not this one."

  "Why not this one Chere? Are your memories of him so very unfavorable? This cannot be, you were far to young." Laurent ran his fingers through his hair, "Be reasonable, Nicolette."

  Tears welled in her eyes. "Reasonable?" she screamed. "You cannot be so cruel! I don’t know him and if I did it would make no difference. I refuse to accept Jamie as my intended!" Her voice shook with fury. "I am begging you to reconsider."

  Laurent’s face turned bright red and he stood completely still, "Nicolette, you shame us in front of your future husband! You will marry whom I choose. And I have chosen Jamie!"