“Mr. Le Veq. Did you find the excuse you were after?”
“I did.” He pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Copies of the contract for you to keep.”
“Very nice,” she said approvingly. She walked over to take the papers from his hand and placed them on the desk. She leaned back against the edge and asked, “Now, what excuse will you use to prolong your visit?”
He grinned. “I didn’t think you required another one.”
He was standing so close, Zahra could smell his spicy cologne. “I do.”
“You’re a hard woman, madam.”
“Makes me interesting, don’t you think?”
“Very much so.”
Archer wanted her so badly he could taste it. This flirtatious back and forth only enhanced matters. “Suppose I have no other excuse?”
“Then you’re not as clever as I’d hoped.”
His eyes held hers and Zahra’s heart began beating like a drum.
“Shall I offer you a kiss in exchange for my ineptness?”
The room suddenly went warm as July or so it seeemed to Zahra. She hadn’t planned on backing herself into such a volatile corner, but the determination in her nature refused to let her turn tail and run. “If that is all you have to offer, I guess it will have to suffice.” Just like yesterday, her tone was not as firm as she’d intended.
He slid a slow fiery finger over the corner of her mouth, “I think it will be more than sufficient….”
His touch generated tiny quakes all over her, and when he pressed his lips to hers, the power made her eyes close. Zahra had been kissed before but nothing compared to this sweet potent rendition. His mouth was warm and knowing; she was inexperienced and melting. When he eased his arm across her lower back and moved her up against the hard cradle of his chest and thighs, she lost all touch with time and space. The kiss deepened. The tip of his tongue played sensually and her defenses crumbled like sand.
“Ahem!” they both heard someone say.
The dazzled Zahra backed out of the embrace and saw a very displeased Alfred standing in the office doorway.
“Yes?” she asked coolly.
“Came to bring you your mail.”
The tight set of Le Veq’s jaw showed he wasn’t happy with the interruption either. The two men faced each other like combatants in a coliseum.
Zahra walked over took the mail from Alfred’s hand. “Thank you. Now, good-bye.”
Closing the door quietly but firmly, she turned to Le Veq. “My apologies.”
“None needed,” he said, then drawled, “but I suppose I should go. I do have business to attend to today and it won’t get done if your pet has me for lunch.”
She enjoyed his wit and sense of humor. “Thank you for the contract and the kiss.”
“You’re welcome. Next time maybe we won’t be interrupted.”
“Who said there’ll be a next time?” she asked softly.
“I do.”
The promise in his words affected her more than she let him see.
“Good day, madame.”
Before she could reply, he placed his arm across her back, eased her to him and kissed her until she was dizzy. When he released her she melted back onto the edge of the desk.
“Told you there’d be a next time,” he whispered, then walked confidently to the door and departed.
The breathless Zahra knew she was in trouble.
With Christmas less than a week away, Archer decided that the time had come for a decision. His desire for Domino was all-consuming, but he had a mistress. Until meeting Domino, Lynette had been an ideal mate and the idea of casting her aside had never crossed his mind. Although she was not his wife, he nonetheless respected her enough to be faithful, and expected her to do the same even though most men would say that spending a few nights in the arms of a lady of the evening did not constitue such. To their thinking, a mistress was the meal while women like Domino were froth, and therein lay the dilemma. Domino was not froth. No man in his right mind would think that after meeting her. Granted Archer knew next to nothing about her, but what he had experienced in her company he liked. He’d seen the aloof side, the witty side, and had tasted the passion in her kiss. Lord knew he wanted to know and see more but he had a mistress. Archer was not the type of man willing to share a woman. Yes, he’d vowed to somehow make her his, yet the idea of maybe sharing Domino’s charms with half the men in New Orleans did not sit well.
Looking at his choices logically, Lynette won hands down, but sometimes desire defied logic, he knew. He also knew that Domino’s occupation promoted faithlessness and any man who did not take that into consideration was a fool.
With that in mind he set aside thoughts of the mysterious madam and turned his attention to the type of Christmas gift he wanted to give to Lynette. He was uncertain, but she’d hinted at a gown she’d seen at an expensive shop that had recently opened, so he decided to meet her there. For all her loveliness, his Lynette was not shy when it came to desiring the best in everything. The more expensive the better seemed to be her motto, but he didn’t mind. One mistress was infinitely cheaper to please than three. Leaving the hotel, he headed up the street. It was a cold December day, but the sun was shining, and the air was fresh off the Mississippi.
Archer loved New Orleans. He loved the crowds, the sounds, the smells. He stopped and purchased a bouquet of flowers for Lynette from a young flower girl selling blooms out of a cart, then he continued his walk. A funeral procession was moving down the street; behind them was a crowd of people known as the second wave, folks who might or might not have had a connection with the deceased but had joined the family, along with musicians playing a lively tune, to send the soul on its way. Such happenings were common in a city known for loving both music and having a good time. In the rougher parts of town music could be heard spilling from the doorways of gambling halls, brothels, and saloons from dawn to dawn. It had its own distinct sound, one heavily influenced by the varied ancestry of Africa, Haiti, Spain, and France. In New Orleans every celebration had a musical backdrop, whether the event was a birth or a death. As the funeral wound its way out of sight, Archer smiled and headed towards the dress shop where he was to meet Lynette.
She was already inside when he arrived. There were quite a few other women there as well, making the shop a bit cramped. Lynette and an older woman he assumed to be either a clerk or the owner were leafing through a book of drawings. The other customers were doing the same. Lynette raised a graceful gloved hand in greeting. He approached, handed her the bouquet, and enjoyed the smile the small token put on her lovely face. “Now, let’s see this gown.”
Indicating the woman at her side, Lynette said, “First I would like you to meet the owner. Her name is Mrs. Wilma Gray, and she has the most divine designs.”
Archer nodded. “Mrs. Gray. I’m Archer Le Veq.”
“It is a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise.”
Wilma then said, “I will leave you to look at patterns. My clerk Ann over there will assist you. I had no idea so many customers would come in at the same time.”
Archer said, “All businesses should have such problems. You go ahead. We’ll be fine.”
Just then Zahra, followed by Alfred, swept into Wilma’s dress shop. She noticed that the place suddenly went silent and that every eye was directed her way. She ignored them all, except for the pair of speculative dark eyes belonging to Archer Le Veq. She offered him a short nod, then waited for Wilma to finish helping a customer.
Lynette frowned. “Is that the new town whore?”
Archer, eyes on Domino, said, “Yes.”
“She’s well dressed, if nothing else.”
Archer noted the green gown and the matching domino. Even with the mask on, she gave the impression of legendary beauty. He also noted that she had garnered quite a bit of attention; so much so that a few of the older women, taking umbrage at her entrance, lifted their noses and huffed out. If their attitudes bothered or affected her, she g
ave no indication.
Lynette groused, “You’d think Mrs. Gray would keep such base people from mingling with the cultured clientele.”
Archer didn’t reply. He was too busy watching Domino and the giant Alfred hovering behind her while she and the shop owner spoke. He could see Mrs. Gray smile and take a small piece of paper from Domino’s gloved hand.
“What about this one?” Lynette asked Archer, pointing to an elaborate gown that was hemmed in wide pleats.
He turned his attention back to the drawing, but it was Lynette’s displeased face that made him ask, “What’s the matter?”
“It would help if you’d pay attention to me, Archer.”
He met her green eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Lynnie.”
“No, you’re not. You seem more interested in the whore.”
Archer swung his eyes to Domino, who was approaching him. All the desire he’d experienced before rushed over him like a flood.
Lynette whispered tightly, “You are not to acknowledge her. I’ll not be made a laughingstock.”
Zahra was indeed on her way over to speak to Le Veq. She’d seen the biddies file out in apparent protest of her being allowed to shop in the same room with their illustrious selves, but she didn’t care. None of them were important in her scheme of things. On the other hand, Le Veq was important if for no other reason than their business connection, and it would be impolite for her not to offer at least a token greeting. In reality, Zahra just wanted a close-up look at the confection of a woman standing beside him. Was she a relative or his mistress?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Le Veq.”
Once again he was snared by the black velvet voice. “Madame Domino.”
Zahra saw fury in the face of the young woman, who seemed to be making a point of ignoring Zahra. “And who is this lovely young woman?”
Archer replied, “Lynette Dubois.”
But Lynette continued to turn a deaf ear to Zahra’s presence.
Zahra asked pleasantly, “Do I offend your person, Miss Dubois?”
A cold-eyed Lynette looked Zahra in the face and stated plainly, “Yes, you do.”
“Why?”
“Well-bred women do not traffic with whores.”
“I see,” Zahra replied, looking her up and down. “Are you Mr. Le Veq’s sister, cousin?”
“No.”
“Then you must be his mistress.”
Her chin went up.
“In that case you and I are very much alike. We both accommodate men who are not our husbands, non?”
Lynette went beet red, and Zahra smiled coldly. “It has been a pleasure meeting you. Au revoir, Mr. Le Veq. Come, Alfred.”
With that, she and the giant walked away and left the shop.
The female clerk assisting Archer and his mistress was hiding a smile. It was obvious that Lynette had not intended the conversation to end with her having egg on her face, but it had. Lynette told Archer coolly, “I don’t care for any of these. Let’s try another shop tomorrow.”
“As you wish.”
Archer and the clerk shared a look, then he escorted Lynette out into the streets. He hailed a hack and put her inside. Without a word or a backwards glance, she settled into the seat and was driven away. He sighed, shook his head, and walked back to his hotel.
Once Alfred and Zahra were back in her office, she took off her gloves and asked him, “So have you learned anything useful about Le Veq?” She would be the first to admit that the encounter with Lynette Dubois had left her a bit testy. Last week the man was plying Zahra with kisses and this week he was buying gowns for his mistress. She wondered why he’d not come around to see her again, and now that the reason had been revealed she felt foolish for thinking he’d been interested in someone like Domino.
Alfred said, “Mr. Le Veq is not only prominent but his family is one of the wealthiest and most well connected in the state.”
“What else?” she asked with interest.
“Mother is Juliana Le Veq Vincent. Married to her third husband. A successful broker and financier. Like many of the Creoles, she lost most of her wealth during the war but has recovered nicely. Six sons.”
“So many? Where’s our Le Veq in the line?”
“Born third behind eldest, Raimond, who owns a shipping company, and Gerrold, who, I’m told, died in the war.”
Zahra felt sympathy.
“He’s also a highly placed Radical. The family is very active politically.”
“How did you get the information?”
“Went to that big city market, told a few maids there I was out of work but had heard the hotel was hiring waiters, and did any of them know Le Veq? Took me a few days, but I was finally introduced to a maid whose employer lives next door to Le Veq’s mother. Very chatty woman.”
Zahra smiled.
“She didn’t know if the hotel was hiring, but she knew nearly everything else. If I’d asked what color drawers Le Veq wore, she would have probably given me an answer.” He added, “Felt sorry for her in a way. It was real clear she didn’t get to talk to folks much.”
Zahra met his eyes. She was learning that this giant of a man had a heart the same size. “You’ve given us a start. Now, what happened with Roland?”
“Found him a place and he has the coach.”
Pleased, Zahra nodded. “Good. Anything else to report?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll see you later on. Thank you, Alfred.”
He nodded, closed the door, and left her in the office alone.
Christmas Eve, Archer joined his family for the celebratory midnight mass at St. Louis Cathedral, then journeyed back to Juliana’s to open gifts. There would be a large meal later in the evening, but right now they were content to enjoy each other, coffee, cognac, and the small sweet treats prepared by Juliana’s cook, Little Reba.
Juliana surprised her sons by gifting them all with matching black velvet vests. “I know it was a silly notion,” she admitted, watching them admire the garments, “but I simply couldn’t resist. I used to dress you alike when you were younger, and I suppose I never got over it.”
They all smiled. The vests were finely made, and the sons were now old enough to not resent being given the same gift.
She, on the other hand, was given everything from gifts of jewelry from Archer and Drake, to an elaborate candelabra seaman Philippe had purchased on his last trip to Cuba. Beau, the artisan of the family, gave her an elaborate iron-worked trellis for her garden. As always, Juliana was moved to tears by the generosity of her boys, but she mused aloud, “I do wish Henri were here, and Raimond and Sable and my grandchildren.”
“And Gerrold,” Archer said somberly. Gerrold Le Veq, their second oldest brother, had given his life to the country during the war. Seven years had passed since his death, but the hole in the family’s fabric was still as real today as it had been the day the tragic news had arrived.
Beau lifted his cognac. “A toast to family.”
“Here, here!”
They all lifted their drinks in response, touched each other’s glasses as was the tradition, then downed a swallow.
To end the quietness that always overcame them whenever Gerrold was mentioned, Beau asked his mother, “So when is His Majesty due to return?”
“Sometime after the new year.”
Archer cracked, “Raimond can stay away indefinitely, but I do miss Sable, Cullen, and the girls.”
Archer and the other Brats, as Raimond had christened his brothers, enjoyed the way Sable Fontaine Le Veq had upset Raimond’s well-oiled life during the early months of their marriage back in ’65. Raimond had tried everything to keep from loving the former slave woman, but in the end he’d been so overwhelmed by his deep feelings that he’d even agreed to adopt three children Sable had found living on the streets of New Orleans. The then twelve-year-old Cullen, his twin sister, Hazel, and the younger Blythe were as loved by the family then as they were now. Later that same year, Sable and Raimon
d added a daughter of their own, Desiré, and she was as feisty and as beautiful as the House of Le Veq required.
After going home to get some sleep, Archer bathed, dressed, then set out on Christmas Day to see Lynette. He would spend the afternoon with her before returning to his mother’s home for the big Christmas feast.
When she answered his knock on the door, she greeted him with uncharacteristic coolness. He assumed she was still simmering over her encounter with Domino. Undaunted, he kissed her smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Merry Christmas to you as well, Archer. I have a gift for you.”
While he shed his coat and hung it on the peg by the door, she returned with a small package wrapped in bright blue cloth.
“Thank you.” Inside he found a set of white linen handkerchiefs. A prominent A had been embroidered on the corner of each. “These are real fine, Lynnie. Thank you.”
“I hoped you’d like them. I did the needlework myself.”
“They’re just what I need.”
She smiled for the first time.
He eased her into his arms and gave her a soft kiss. “What would you like to do today?”
“You pick, as long as it doesn’t involve talking to whores.”
Archer ignored the dig. “How about a ride through the park?”
“No. I hear that woman has been parading around in that vulgar red coach of hers. I’d rather we didn’t run into her.”
“So you plan to spend the rest of your life hiding at home?”
“No, Archer, I don’t. But I do wish you had listened to me and not acknowledged her.”
“She’s a client, Lynette. I could hardly ignore her when she walked up.”
“Considering who she is, and that everyone in the shop heard the way she spoke to me, I would think you’d cut your ties to her.”
Archer stepped back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. She’s a whore, and in spite of her snippy words to me, she and I have nothing in common. Nothing!”
He studied her silently.
“And if you cared for me, you’d do as I asked.”
Archer drawled, “And that would be, what?”
Winds of the Storm Page 8
