Sweet Silken Bondage

by Bobbi Smith

  "Is there anybody around who'd want you out of the way for a while or maybe just plain want you dead? How about your partner?"

  "Clay?" Dev was shocked by his suggestion. "No, not Clay, and not anybody else I can think of."

  Macauley looked even more troubled after hearing his answer. That afternoon had changed his way of thinking about this young man, and he felt obligated to delve more deeply into the facts as he knew them.

  "I see. Well, think on it. If you come up with any ideas, let me know. I'm not adverse to following up on leads, if you think they might mean something."

  "I will," Dev promised, but he doubted that he'd think of anything new. He'd already spent endless hours going over what had happened and had turned up nothing. He hoped Clay was having much better luck than he was.

  The Randolph party was in full swing. Beautifully gowned women and elegantly dressed men mingled together in the brightly lit ballroom, enjoying the music and partaking of the sumptuous array of food and drink.

  In a corner of the room, surrounded by a halfdozen, very handsome, would-be suitors, Reina was in her glory. It had been so long since she'd been able to really enjoy herself that she was exulting in being the center of attention once again.

  As Reina sat, drinking champagne and holding court of sorts, she found herself wondering why she'd been so worried about coming here tonight with the Delacroixs. It seemed foolish to her now that just a few hours ago she'd been so consumed by fear of discovery that she'd almost refused to attend. Luckily, good-natured, level-headed Emilie had managed to calm her and convince her that everything would be fine. Reina was glad now that she'd listened to her friend, and she realized that her worries had been nothing more than her overactive imagination running away with her.

  "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.<
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  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.

  "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.