My Cherie Amour

by Azod, Shara

  warned both him and Cherie not to come until he said so. A sweeter torture had never

  been invented. Diego’s hands had been everywhere, his teeth marking Étienne’s neck and

  shoulder. They had all moved in tandem, their tempo set by the domineering Diego who

  played them all as if their bodies were instruments played by a maestro. The onslaught had

  felt so good, so right. Even now the memory of what they had shared made Ètienne shiver.

  “Am I being unreasonable?” Cherie asked, her voiced muffled against his chest.

  “Yes.” Cherie smiled at his simple answer. ‘Tienne was nothing if not honest even as he was

  indulgent as always of her bratty ways. When she had first talked with him after he had

  found her in Florida, she had explained she could not marry him feeling as she did about

  Diego. She had begged him to go on with his life and try to forget her, but in typical

  ‘Tienne fashion he had told her he would never give her up. He had even said of that

  meant sharing her then he would because he loved her. When he begun to have feelings for

  Diego himself, he had told her without delay. He had acted as if she would be horrified at

  the revelation. As if she hadn’t seen this for herself. But that was her ‘Tienne, the one

  person in the world who never tried to shield her from things he felt was too much for her

  to handle.

  “Will he leave me you think?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking. While she

  never once doubted Diego’s feelings for her, she knew he had a strong sense of duty. He

  hadn’t brought her back to New Orleans when she thought she should have after they first

  met, but he had believed her old life was over. It was a fair assumption given the way of the

  world. But as soon as Étienne had appeared, he had made arrangements to come here

  without delay.

  Étienne gentle moved her back a little so he could look down into her eyes.

  “No, Cherie, he will not leave us.” His sky blue eyes told her more than she had asked. Whatever happened to her she

  would never be alone. He really did have complete faith in Diego. Cherie buried her hands

  into his silky auburn curls, tugging his head down to meet her lips. He always kissed her so

  softly, as if she was precious and should be cherished. Whereas Diego made her burn,

  Étienne soothed her like balm to her soul. There could be no going back now; like her

  mother before her, Cherie was now the center of a committed ménage.

  *******

  Though he would have rather died before admitting it, Diego was in need of advice.

  Before he knew it, he wound up at the front door of the Bonnet townhouse in the French

  Quarter. Sighing in defeat, he knocked lackadaisically, jumping back at the speed to which

  the door was opened. The imposing figure that stood as regal as any king made him take a

  step back. Diego himself was at least six feet four inches tall. This man was a full head

  taller than he was. His skin was a deep bronze like some kind of Arab sheik who spent all

  his time in the sun. That in itself would be normal – for New Orleans anyway. What threw

  one off was the fact that the man's eyes so light blue they were almost colorless and the

  cascade of straight startling white hair fell past his shoulders to the middle of his back.

  “My Lord Duque,” the man intoned in the deepest voice Diego had ever heard, and

  in clipped British accent. “Please come in and follow me.”

  The man executed a perfect military pivot and led him into the house. “May I presume you are here to see Monsieur Bonnet?”

  “Well, no, actually,” Diego began only to be brought up short when the man

  stopped in his tracks to fix him with a glare that actually had him shivering. The infamous

  Capitán Diego Esteban de Aguilar, Duque de Suárez, weary of a…what the hell was this

  man anyway? “I am here to see Monsieur.. . Err, Luc.” He had not realized until that

  moment he had no idea what Luc’s surname was. Everyone simply called the man Luc.

  The bronze man seemed satisfied with that answer. At least, Diego thought he must

  be because he simply repeated his military pivot and moved on to a door near the rear of

  the house. The door opened to a typical masculine study complete with overstuffed leather

  armchairs, large fireplace, and several bookshelves strategically placed around the room.

  Instead of one desk however, there were two. The bronze man waved towards one of the

  chairs near the fireplace.

  “Please be seated. I will return with Monsieur shortly.”

  And with that he was gone. Diego didn’t have time to question the wisdom of

  making this trip. Not more than a few minutes after bronze man disappeared, Luc

  appeared.

  “Diego,” Luc swept into the room shaking his hand wearing a decidedly irritating

  smirk. “While I did expect you, I must say I did not expect you so soon.”

  Diego decided to ignore that one. “Was that your butler?” Luc glanced toward the door. “You mean Farnsworth? He is whatever he chooses to

  be.”

  Farnsworth the mixed race British butler? No, that was just too comically

  stereotypical. “Is he a slave?” Couldn’t be. The man was a sultan masquerading as a

  servant to spy

  on the European colonies, or a Native chief/king whose tribe was tragically massacred and

  by the British but spared him, which explained the accent. Yes, Diego liked his imaginary

  scenario much better than anything Luc could tell him. Dear God, the ever fanciful Cherie

  had taken residence in his brain and taken over the way he normally thought.

  “We actually don’t own slaves,” Luc informed him pouring two glasses brandy. “All

  the servants here are paid. Most of the people on the plantation are sharecroppers or paid

  servants. Farnsworth has been with me since I came here from France. He worked for my

  grandfather. Amélie was amused by him, so Farnsworth stayed. So,” Luc handed him a

  brandy, “is it Cher, or is it ‘Tienne?”

  Of course the cheeky bastard knew about his attraction to the younger man. He had

  known from the first day at Gaspar’s. He had probably suggested Étienne stay with them to

  move things along quickly.

  “Agathe was in our home this morning.”

  Luc’s hand stilled in the act of raising his glass. “And you didn’t detain her why?” “She was gone before I knew who she was.”

  Taking a deep breath, Diego filled him in on everything that had happened in the

  last forty-eight hours, edited of course. By the time he was done Luc was sprawled in the

  chair opposite him, a deep frown marring his face.

  “Somehow Agathe had gotten to the governor, or more likely the governor’s wife.

  She is a criollo, non? And from what I hear quite prudish. She would be scandalized enough

  to insert herself in your personal affairs.”

  “Possibly, but now I have a former wife and two lovers to contend with. A man can

  only take so much.”

  Luc studied Diego intently. He was taking his attraction to Étienne fairly well, far

  better than Claude had taken it. Claude had fought him and their mutual attraction for

  months, fearing that to admit it he would lose some part of his masculinity. Diego had no

  such qualms. But then, he had Cherie. She had grown up witnessing a loving permanent

  ménage relationship and she was far more used such things than her mother had been. By

  h
er complete acceptance she probably made it seem normal and natural for Diego making

  it an easier transition for him. Still, there had to be lingering doubts.

  “And this thing between you and ‘Tienne? How are you feeling about that?”

  “I haven’t really given it much thought. It just is.” In truth Diego hadn’t wanted to dwell on it. How did he feel? He knew he should

  feel disgust or confusion, but he didn’t. Last night he had made love to another man as if it

  was the most natural thing in the world. All three of them had touched, kissed, caressed

  and made love to one another and nothing had ever felt so right. He had never felt so

  complete. If he had believed Cherie completed him, the addition of Étienne had made him

  more of a man then he was before. Cherie had held him afterwards, even as ‘Tienne held

  her. She had whispered she was so happy, that the three of them would be happy together.

  He had believed it because he believed in her.

  “I could be content with the situation. But there is Maria-Teresa to deal with. She

  has become fanatical in her devotion to the church. She has somehow gotten in her head

  we should remarry, or we are still married – I’m not sure which. Whatever Agathe is telling

  her, it is making it worse. She actually believed herself to be saving me from some a

  demonic seductress.”

  “Well, at least we know where Agathe is likely hiding,” Luc mused. “And who is

  giving her shelter.”

  “But what can we do about it? If she is with the governor’s household, she is well

  protected. With the addition of the king’s daughter, I am somewhat neutralized, and I am

  the only one who outranks the governor.”

  “Are you?” Luc mused. Diego glanced up sharply but the older man was in his own little world. He was

  loath to interrupt his private deliberating.

  “Let me deal with the governor,” Luc said standing. “You go home and deal with

  Cher. After this morning I imagine she will be in quite the snit, non?”

  *******

  Agathe watched and waited hidden in the bushes where she had been for a while.

  The little putain was just like her mother. She had to be stopped from corrupting decent

  men with her voodoo and her foreign wiles. She now had the help of the governor and his

  wife. She couldn’t save Claude, but she could save the duque. Smiling with satisfaction she

  eased out of her hiding place and made her way back to the governor’s home. She would

  visit Princesa Maria-Teresa without delay. The woman needed to take her former husband

  in hand and soon. Étienne was a hopeless case. She had not realized he came from tainted

  stock. Soon the putain breed would be gone; Étienne could find his own way. She was

  concentrating so deeply on her plans she never noticed the man following her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Diego gritted his teeth as he reread the fifth missive this week from Maria

  demanding he attend her. He had written her back after the first one, explaining he would

  not be able to get away for the foreseeable future. Apparently Maria-Teresa had lost the

  ability to read. There was no way he could leave New Orleans now even if he wanted to.

  Étienne had to travel to see his father on the family plantation after some kind accident.

  Cherie could not be left alone; especially since the governor’s wife had taken up Agathe’s

  crusade to save the men of the New Spain from femmes libres de couleur. All kinds of

  ridiculous laws had been passed with the aim of restricting interactions between the races.

  The famed octoroon balls where wealthy planters often went select quadroon and octoroon

  mistresses were deemed illegal. The governor had soldiers patrolling popular venues were

  the balls had been held. The Creole elite had simply moved them to plantations owned by

  gens de couleur for a healthy price, of course.

  What irritated Diego the most were the laws that directly affected those free people

  of color who were not in any way involved with the balls or anything else dealing with the

  French and Spanish Creoles affairs de coure. Businessmen and women were often affected

  financially by decrees barring them from interacting in public with whites in any way. And

  for what? Things would go on the way they always had. After over hundred years, there still was a serious lack of white women in all the colonies except the English ones. Perhaps

  English women were far more adventurous. Though many had tried throughout history

  there was just no way one could force abstinence on an unwilling population.

  “Just go and see what she wants.”

  Diego shook of his ruminations at Cherie’s entrance. Holding out his hand for her

  he marveled at the way she seemed to glide towards him despite her now obvious state of

  pregnancy. She wore her growing belly with innate grace, glowing with some mysterious

  inner beauty more and more with each passing day. He had to admit he found her even

  more desirable with her rounding belly and spreading hips. He was seriously contemplating

  keeping her pregnant for the foreseeable future. If he wasn’t positive she would probably

  cause serious injury to his person he would actually put his thoughts into action.

  “How do you feel, querida?” He murmured as she snuggled in his lap.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Cherie pouted, loving the way he lavished affection on

  her. He and Étienne were ever solicitous, sometimes too much so. “Papa Claude and

  Maman will be here soon and if you go now you can be back by tonight. Go, see what she

  wants. She was once your wife, Diego. It is your duty, non?”

  He wanted to say he had done his duty when he married her, tried to do his duty by

  getting an heir before it drove him not only to have the marriage dissolved but to put

  oceans between them. He had tried. It was not Maria-Teresa’s fault she was not cut out to be a wife, but it was not his either. They had married according to the dictates of their

  stations. Such marriages rarely resulted in great love or passion but he had hoped for a least

  mutual respect and friendship. When it became apparent that was not going to happen he

  had to get out. He could not be the man Maria-Teresa wanted him to be.

  “I cannot leave you, Cher. I don’t want to.”

  “You can and will. Whatever it is the princess wants you will do your best to oblige.

  She was your wife, Diego. I am just your…”

  “You are the love of my life,” he replied fiercely, tilting her head up by her chin.

  “Nothing less, querida. Never less.”

  *******

  Agathe cackled in absolute glee as she witnessed Diego riding out. Finally! She had

  told Maria-Teresa to keep up the pressure and sooner or later her wayward duque would

  come running. Fairly skipping down the street to the waiting hired carriage she went over

  her brilliant plan in her head done last time. By now, the men she had hired would have

  shot Gaspar as he was leaving his home to run to his daughter’s assistance. Of course, the

  whore Amélie was not in need of any assistance. She had one the governor’s houseboys

  deliver the old man an “urgent” message from his bâtard, saying that something had

  happened to Claude. She also arranged to have several “witnesses” swear that a deranged

  Cherie Bonnet had shot her own grandfather because he would not sanction a marriage between herself and Étienne due to her recent scandalous behavior. Bec
ause no one outside

  their little family cult of sin knew of the relationship between Cherie, Diego and Étienne; it

  would be easy to plant the seed of a wicked breed who seduced one man, got with child

  and try to pawn her it off on another. After all, how many of her mother’s bastards carried

  the name Bonnet but where sired by Luc, who as far as Agathe knew, had no surname?

  There was a messenger who should be at this moment informing Claude and his whore

  what happened to Gaspar. They would of course hurry to his side without delay. That left

  Cherie all alone.

  Having the hired hack park a few houses down from Gaspar’s, Agathe waited until

  she saw a frantic Amélie running into the house, Claude and Luc trailing behind her before

  she instructed the driver to take her to the governor’s house with all haste. Trembling with

  anticipation she couldn’t hold the crows of glee that escaped her lips. This time there

  would be no knight in shining armor for the breed’s bastard. With governor’s blessing,

  Cherie Bonnet, the breed bitch would be dead in a week.

  It took less than an hour before the soldiers arrived at the door. Agathe watched with

  the governor’s wife safely ensconced in a carriage across the street while they dragged a

  visibly shaken and very pregnant Cherie out of the house into a prisoner’s carriage. Carlos

  Hernandez was yelling behind them trying desperately to get the soldiers to let the girl go.

  Oh, it was just too delightful. The girl was perceptibly frightened with tears running unchecked down her face. Later, Agathe would allow herself a good laugh. For now she sat

  stoically beside the uptight bitch who was the instrument of her revenge.

  “Hernandez will have to be dealt with,” Agathe hoped she sounded regretful. It was

  so hard when she was so very happy. “He will attempt to run to his master.”

  “Madame Bonnet, we are not thugs. This is about justice. There is nothing the

  duque can do with so many witnesses against her.” Señora de Gálvez sniffed disdainfully.

  “The girl must have been quite mad to shoot her own grandfather.”

  Agathe gritted her teeth at that one. If Gaspar Durand had been more of a father to

  her maybe none of this would be necessary. Placées were meant to be kept a secret, away