by C. J. Corbin
“Oh Marcus, we can take the car,” Nancy said.
Marcus kissed her on the forehead. “No, Ma Petite, it’s Mardi Gras time. You’d never get a parking place in the French Quarter and it is too dangerous to walk far.”
Nancy rolled her eyes.
“Come upstairs and help me get dressed, so I’m not late.” Marcus took her hand he looked back at us as they left the room. “Michael, we’ve put you in your regular room. If you need anything just speak to Frederick. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He closed the door to the library and Michael and I looked at each other. He laughed, “That went better than I expected.
CHAPTER SIX
I just looked at Michael. "That was easy? Oh my, what has Nancy gotten herself into?"
Michael chuckled, "It really isn't that bad. Simone is who she is."
"Yeah, someone who is used to having her own way. We'd better get changed for dinner."
Just as we made our way to the door, it flung open and a beautiful woman stood in front of us.
“Michael!” She opened her arms wide to hug him.
I stood there my mouth open, the woman’s resemblance to Simone uncanny. Though a much younger version, she had the same shoulder length black hair and petite stature. Her impeccable pantsuit screamed designer and money; she looked in her late twenties.
Michael embraced her and she all but molded herself into him, which made me feel like I was intruding on an intimate moment. I wanted to look away. Finally, they broke apart, but with one arm still wrapped around her, he turned to me.
"Brigitte, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Elizabeth."
Brigitte extended her hand to me and I noticed her long slender fingers and perfect manicure. "Hello, Elizabeth. I have wanted to meet the woman who captured Michael's heart as I once hoped to do.” Her voice was almost a purr and, although she was shaking my hand, she was peering up at him through thick black lashes. I blinked in disbelief - was she batting her lashes at him?
Her words took me aback. I looked at Michael and then back to her. "Thank you. It is very nice to meet you," I said awkwardly, my thoughts in a jumble.
Michael released her. "Brigitte is Marcus' younger sister."
Recognition struck me; Michael had mentioned Marcus had a sister, and he had told me they dated after his divorce. Somehow, when he told me the story, I had not expected her to look so alluring, or young.
"Marcus just told me you are going to Antoine's tonight. May I intrude in on your party?” She formed her lips into a pout. “I would love to spend the evening with you, catch up on our last visit… and get to know Elizabeth,” she purred again, the last part of her sentence definitely an afterthought.
"I'm sure that would be fine. Frederick will be taking us." Michael replied.
My mouth opened to say something. Anything. The way Brigitte looked at Michael irritated me. I didn't feel like sitting through dinner being aggravated. I knew any negative reaction would be rude, so I closed my mouth.
Brigitte tucked her arm through Michael's. "Wonderful. It's settled. I'll meet you down here after you've changed."
Michael led me up to our room. It was a lovely room decorated in blue and gold, overlooking the back garden courtyard. French doors opened to the second floor gallery where there were several wicker chairs and a small table. My ball gowns were already hanging in the closet, even the one we purchased yesterday afternoon in San Francisco, all pressed and ready to wear. The silence pervaded the room while we unpacked and put our clothes away. Brigitte's appearance tore the enjoyment of the room out of me.
“Elizabeth, do you want to take a shower first?” He motioned to the en suite bathroom and I looked up as I was closing my suitcase.
“Ah, yeah. Okay. Sure.”
Michael took the case from me and tucked it in a corner. “Babe,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, “Why are you so distracted? What’s wrong?”
I laid my head on his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of his arms. “Nothing’s wrong,” I lied.
He tilted my head up to look at me. “Are you sure?”
I pressed my lips together. “Yes.” Of course, there was something wrong. Her name was Brigitte, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “I guess I’m just tired from the flight.”
“Babe, if you’re tired we can cancel dinner out tonight. We can eat in, everyone will understand.”
“No. I’ll be okay. Maybe a shower will help perk me up.”
He kissed me on the forehead before gently guiding me toward the bathroom. “Go take your shower and I’ll finish up in here.”
As I undressed, I heard a wolf whistle from Michael and it made me grin. The water was warm and as it ran down my back, I could feel the tension lifting from my shoulders. All I could think of, though, was Michael and Brigitte together… together in an intimate way. I frowned. They dated and, while he did not tell me they had slept together, I knew from the way she had thrown herself at him that they had.
She was another petite woman, just like his ex-wife. There were definitely similarities between the two women. Why did Michael choose to be with me then? I didn’t look like either of these women. Brigitte's appearance only confirmed that I was not his usual type. I was far from petite and definitely not graceful.
Michael entered the bathroom to put the toiletries away, having removed his shirt and looking sexy standing in only his jeans. I turned the water off and stuck my hand out for a towel. He opened the shower door and wrapped me in a towel, rubbing my back dry first.
“I thought you were going to melt away in there,” he whispered low in my ear.
I put arms around his neck and kissed him. I clung to him, closing my eyes and feeling his chest against my skin.
“Babe, we don’t have to go tonight. I don’t mind.”
“No.” I shook my head and removed the tie holding my hair up so it cascaded down my back. “I want to go. I’m getting hungry.”
Dropping the towel as he pulled me against him firmly, he murmured, “You will be the most beautiful woman in the room.” He ran his fingers through my hair, pulling my face closer to his. His inviting lips covered mine in a kiss that promised of more to come later.
Strange how Michael could read my mood and know what to do. I felt immediately better, surrounded in his arms. “You better let me get dressed or we’re going to be late.”
He laughed heartily, “Oh babe, don’t tempt me.”
He released me, though, and I turned to get dressed while he showered.
We met Nancy and Brigitte in the foyer as Russell was pulling up to the front of the house with the limousine. Nancy dressed in a conservative, navy cocktail dress but Brigitte’s outfit was outrageous. The black, sheer lace on the top covered enough to avoid being arrested but just barely, and the rest of the short skirt was so tight I wondered how she breathed, or even sat down for that matter. While we were in the car, Michael appeared not to notice or, at least, I didn’t catch him staring at her breasts as they came awfully close to falling out of their lace coverings.
Once at the restaurant, the maitre'd seated us in the middle of the dining room. Brigitte managed to sit next to Michael, with me on his other side and Nancy beside me. Our party ordered cocktails and I stuck to sparkling water. We shared appetizers of escargot and Oysters Rockefeller. Antoine’s accommodated Michael by giving him the Rockefeller sauce on toast points. The dishes were rich and I had to push the plate away after only a few bites. I didn’t want nausea to start by stuffing myself.
Michael seemed perfectly comfortable with Brigitte hanging onto to his every word. If Nancy rolled her eyes any more, I was afraid they were going to roll out of her head. She kept shooting me looks that said she had a lot to tell me. Unfortunately, we had not found any private time for a chat.
It was evident she was upset about Marcus taking his mother to the ball. I, myself, thought it was odd, and wondered why he couldn't also take Nancy. However, at this particular time, it was wiser not to pok
e into the issue, and I would wait until she let me in on all the secrets.
The wine Marcus ordered for us smelled wonderful and it disappointed me I would not be able to sample it. I was being very careful with the items I ordered because my stomach was still so sensitive.
Our main courses arrived. Michael and his healthy appetite devoured his fried puffed potatoes and vegetable dishes. There were two unhappy women at this table and we mostly picked at our food.
Brigitte finally noticed there was someone else sitting at the table besides Michael. She waved her fork, directing her question to me. “Elizabeth, why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like the food?”
“The pompano is delicious, but it’s rich with the butter sauce. I’m afraid I’m still prone to a bit of nausea due to my pregnancy,” I answered.
Brigitte looked at me as her eyes narrowed. I could have sworn that if her eyes were daggers they would have gone through my heart. “That’s nonsense. My doctor told me nausea is all in our minds and if we don’t give into it, we won’t have it.” She reached for my fiancés’ hand, but he unobtrusively placed it into his lap before she could make skin contact. “Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Darkness passed over Michael eyes and he didn’t answer Brigitte, instead taking my hand in his and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He looked at me and, in that moment, a thrill went through me. Brigitte abruptly stopped talking and watched the scene, her mouth slight agape. My eyes flew to Nancy, who wore a satisfied grin. With that small movement from Michael, everything became right in my world again and I was determined to ignore Brigitte and her evident mooning over my man.
“So, Brigitte, what type of work do you do?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Oh! Hasn’t anyone told you? I am a photographer, like Michael, only I focus on the old homes in New Orleans. Many of the finer gift shops in the French Quarter display my work and, of course, I have a gallery. Michael and I are working on a book together,” she laughed, “Well, we were." Somehow she managed to capture his elusive hand, bringing it up to her chest, and looked at him through her batting lashes. “I’m sure we will pick it up again soon.”
That was it. Nancy’s eyes proceeded to fall out of her head as she moved to get up. “Will you excuse me? I need the little girl’s room. Elizabeth, come with me. I’ll show you where it is.”
We left the table, and Brigitte looked happy to see us go as she leaned in closer to Michael. The two of us slipped around a corner and Nancy tugged me into the bathroom.
“What is going on Nancy?”
“Oh, I have so much to tell you, we don’t have time for everything now so we’ll have to talk tomorrow. Nevertheless, I want you to keep an eye on Brigitte. She’s madly in love with Michael, they stuck her up in Quebec with Simone's sister because she's nuttier than a fruit bat,” Nancy whispered, glancing around to see if she was being overheard.
“Anyone can tell that,” I replied. “I’m more worried about you. What’s with Marcus and his mother going to this ball without you?”
She sighed. “Oh, that. Yeah, Marcus and I had a huge argument about that. Ma Mére is not exactly happy with her son’s choice in a bride - she had planned someone else, local, for Marcus. She is being a pain in the ass about the wedding and thwarts me with every decision I make. Marcus infuriates me, he gives into his mother so easily."
"Nancy, perhaps you need to postpone the wedding while you work out these issues with Marcus."
Her eyes grew wide with shock, "Oh no! We are not going to postpone the wedding. We're fine. Don't worry, I will deal with Ma Mére in my own way."
Doubt registered on my face, but instead of commenting, I let it go as two women pushed the door open.
"I'll fill you in on the rest later," she added hastily.
After a desert of Baked Alaska, we parted from the restaurant and Russell was waiting for us with the car. The French Quarter was crowded with tourists and locals celebrating Mardi Gras. It took a while for the car to make it down St. Louis and as I watched everyone outside, very glad I was inside the car.
When we arrived home, Brigitte insisted we join her in the library for a glass of sherry. Nancy and I begged off and I expected Michael to do the same. I was surprised when he whispered that he would have just one drink with her and then excuse himself. I tried not to show the disappointment on my face, but it was there nonetheless. As I started up the stairs, I saw a sparkle in Brigitte’s eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time I showered, put my nightgown on, and realized that Michael still hadn’t come up to bed, my anger began to build. It was useless for me to try to sleep, so I sat in a chair facing the door. Another hour ticked by, it was past midnight when the bedroom door finally opened and Michael stood in the doorway.
He saw me immediately as he switched on the light. “Babe, what are you still doing up?”
I rose from the chair and angrily stalked over to the bed. Picking up a pillow, I shoved it at him. “Here! Go sleep somewhere else!” I yelled.
“Hey, sshhhh. You’ll wake everyone,” he whispered.
“Don’t you shush me! Just go!” I pointed to the hallway. “I don’t want you here tonight.” As much as I tried biting back my hurt, angry tears, they began to flow freely down my cheeks. I turned away - I did not want him to see me crying.
“I’m not going anywhere. What’s wrong, Elizabeth?” I heard the click of the door as he shut it before he touched my shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart, are you upset about me having a drink with Brigitte?”
I flinched away from his touch. Wiping my face with the sleeve of my nightgown, I moved further away from him.
“Babe, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. She’s highly strung and used to getting her own way.”
Turning around to face Michael, I bit out, “She is also your former lover, isn’t she?” I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my face red and blotchy with anger.
“Elizabeth,” he sighed and took a deep breath, “I told you we dated after my divorce, but it was brief.”
“And you slept with her. Even I can tell that much by the way she hangs onto you.”
He stood in front of me, still holding the pillow and looking frustrated. He appeared to be searching for the right words. “Yes. Is that what you want to hear?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I knew it was a mistake after the first time. I shouldn’t have - I crossed a boundary with a friend and a family that I care a lot about.”
I fought the tears again. “And you brought me here, why? To dangle her in front of me? To hurt me?”
“Oh god, no, Elizabeth. Please.” He reached for me but I backed away. “Please, babe. I didn’t know she would be here. We would have never come if I had known. Come on, and let’s just go to bed. I’m tired, you’re tired; we can talk more about this in the morning.”
“I said you can sleep somewhere else tonight. You are not sleeping with me.”
“Honey, let’s not make a scene. I don’t want to drag everyone into our drama.”
“Michael, this is drama of your making. First, you don’t tell me we’re visiting your former lover and then you sit up all night drinking with her. What am I supposed to make out of all that?”
He stood there and looked at me for a few moments. “Have it your way,” he said while he turned around. As he left the room, he tossed the pillow back onto the bed.
I kept it together long enough to hear the door close and, as soon as it did, tears began streaming down my face again. Throwing myself onto the bed, I cried into the pillows.
Sure enough, shortly after I fell asleep, I woke with a start. The nightmare. This time the dream was different - Michael did not come to rescue me. My sobs started all over again. The sky began to turn pink with sunrise as I finally drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. He closed the door softly and I laid there listening to him shower and then shaving. He came back into the room and quietly dressed
, putting on jeans and my favorite chambray shirt. There was a small knock on the bedroom door.
Michael answered it quickly and whispered, “Thank you, Frederick.”
The sound of china being set on the table, and the hushed sound of clinking glasses and silverware came next. I could smell breakfast; I could smell coffee. It made my mouth water. I was hungry since I hadn’t eaten much the night before.
The bedroom door closed with a quiet click. Michael made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge. “Baby,” he said tenderly.
I opened my eyes, knowing I could no longer pretend to sleep. He had a smile on his face, the dimples I fell in love with creasing his cheeks, and his sky-blue eyes looked at me warmly. His hand gently brushed my face.
“I had breakfast brought up. Do you think you can eat something?” he whispered, as if I were still asleep.
I nodded and sat up slowly. “We have to talk, Michael.”
He pursed his lips but nodded. “I know, baby.”
I wrapped the covers around myself and looked at him expectantly. He drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, a signal he was looking for the right words.
“Elizabeth, the relationship between Brigitte and me is very complicated.”
I frowned; this was not the way I expected the conversation to begin.
Michael caught the look on my face and hesitated. “I know how this sounds. I almost lost my friendship with Marcus and Simone over my stupidity.”
I didn’t say a word and he continued. “Brigitte is fifteen years younger than Marcus. She’s the baby of the family and used to getting her own way. After my divorce, you know I went a little wild and stupid. I came down here to visit and get my bearings straight. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. She always had a crush on me and I took advantage of the situation. It was not my best hour. Brigitte has always been,” he paused, looking for the right words, “mentally delicate. She’s continually been spoiled because of that, and, I guess, after having way too much to drink one night,” he paused again, looking away with a pained expression. “She ended up in bed with me.” Michael hung his head down and looked at his hands.
