Concerned that Deborah might have hurt herself, Melissa started forward to offer help, but she had barely taken one step when Deborah scrambled to her feet and, hands outstretched protectively in front of her, screeched, "Stay there! Don't come any closer or I'll scream!"
Thoroughly nonplussed, Melissa stared at her, wondering if she were confronting a madwoman-Deborah certainly resembled one with her wild, staring eyes and hysterical actions. Her voice very soft and calm, Melissa said reasonably, "There is no need to scream-besides, no one could hear you. "
Reading a sinister intent in Melissa's innocent remark, Deborah thought only to put as much distance as possible between herself and this female instrument of revenge. Keeping her eyes on Melissa for any sign of aggression, she warily inched backward, muttering, "It's not my fault!
I
This was all Julius' idea-he planned it. He made me do it!"
"Oh, that's ridiculous!" Melissa burst out contemptuously, her temper rising at the despicable way Deborah tried to throw all blame onto Latimer. Shaking her quirt for emphasis, she added, "You're lying! And- even if he did plan it, you're the one who is waiting here half naked! "
The sight of the raised quirt was Deborah's undoing, and Melissa had barely finished speaking when Deborah squealed, "Don't touch me!" Desperate to escape, forgetting where she was, how very small the gazebo was, Deborah edged farther backward, falling against the lightly fastened muslin material. One minute she was standing there and then the next she was slipping through the gaping hole hidden behind the excruciatingly pink fabric. Frantically she tried to prevent her fall, her hands wildly clutching at the material, and for one second she hung half out of the building. Then, with a great ripping sound, the fabric gave way and Deborah, shrieking with terror, plunged into the rank green water.
Openmouthed with astonishment and faintly conscious of a flicker of anxiety for a fellow human being in distress, Melissa swiftly crossed the room to stare out of the hole left in the rotten latticework. Below Melissa, encumbered by yards of clinging, wet material, her beautifully coiffured blond hair having a distinct green hue from algae and duckweed, was Deborah ... a wet, spluttering, thoroughly furious Deborah!
Because she was no longer in imminent danger from Melissa, Deborah's nerve had returned along with her temper, and she proceeded to curse with a fluency and vulgarity that made Melissa's eyes go round. Stopping long enough to breathe, she glared at Melissa and spat, "Look at me! This is all your bloody fault! I hate you! I hate this country and everyone in it! I wish I had never come here!"
Since it was obvious that Deborah had suffered no harm, Melissa smiled saucily and said over her shoulder as she walked out of the building, "You no more than I, dear lady!"
Chapter Twenty-nine
REACHING her horse, Melissa mounted and, wheeling the animal about, watched as Deborah, the muslin material coiling around her body like a slimy pink snake, grappled to make the edge of the shallow pond. It was quite a struggle, the heavy waterlogged fabric slowing her progress, and the slippery, uneven bottom of the pond making it difficult to maintain her balance. Melissa had to choke back a laugh as Deborah stumbled and fell face forward in the swampy water not a yard from the shore. Unwilling to leave without seeing Deborah firmly on land, Melissa kept her restive horse steady until at last Deborah gained dry land. Taking one final look at the bedraggled and thoroughly infuriated Deborah as she staggered a few more feet from the pond, yards of algae-stained material trailing wetly behind her, Melissa could no longer prevent a small chuckle from escaping. There was now no reason to remain, and she kicked her horse into motion and galloped away.
Too intent on her own progress as she lurched in the direction of the house, Deborah was not even aware that Melissa had left. Her only thought at the moment was to gain the sanctuary of the house and, once she had rid herself of the clinging, wet fabric and the noxious odor which clung to her skin, to personally oversee the burning down of the gazebo! When it was a smoking ruin, then she intended to put as much distance as possible between herself and the site of the most humiliating moment in her life. She was leaving Baton Rouge! And no one was going to talk her out of it!
And so it was that when Latimer returned home some three hours later, having prudently absented himself for the afternoon, he found his entryway filled with trunks and boxes piled haphazardly. "Good God! What is going on?" he demanded of the harassed butler.
"Your sister, sir, she is leaving," the man said without any emotion. "She is in the main salon waiting to talk with you before she boards the packet this evening. It is leaving in the morning for New Orleans."
Latimer hurried down the hallway, all sorts of wild ideas shooting through his brain as he tried to guess what terrible calamity was forcing Deborah to take such rash action. Had Slade suffered a fatal accident when the two of them were alone in the gazebo? Had she murdered Slade in a fit of temper? What in hell had gone wrong?
Smelling of roses and gowned impeccably in a lovely frock of blue satin, Deborah was pacing impatiently up and down the long room when he entered it and rushed up to her. "Are you all right?" Latimer demanded. "What is this nonsense that you are leaving? What the devil happened this afternoon?"
Her voice bitter and sullen, she proceeded to tell him exactly what had transpired, although Melissa would not have recognized the story that Deborah told. "She attacked me, Julius! I feared for my very life! And then if it was not enough to assault me with a horse whip, she tried to drown me in that awful pond!" The blue eyes were kindling with remembered rage. "She is a savage, brutal person-just like this country-and I am not remaining here one moment longer than it takes me to reach New Orleans. As for the ship that we are to meet in January-it cannot appear too soon for me! "
Latimer tried to reason with her, and though he did have some difficulty believing her story without question, he recognized the obstinate jut of her chin and realized that there was no swaying her. Whatever had really happened, it was obvious that their plan had gone dreadfully awry and that any hope he had entertained of using Deborah's seduction of Dominic as a means of bringing Melissa into his arms had been smashed.
"Very well," he said finally. "I will take you to the packet tonight."
As if realizing for the first time that she would be on her own, Deborah asked nervously, "Won't you come with me? There is nothing here for either of us. It is time we moved on."
"It may be time for us to move on," Latimer said with an ugly twist to his mouth, "but before we do I have a score to settle with Dominic Slade and his wife."
Her eyes fearful, Deborah demanded, "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Latimer admitted coolly, "but I don't intend to leave Baton Rouge without making both of the Slades very sorry that they ever crossed me." He smiled at Deborah and said in a lighter tone, "Don't worry, puss-I shall join you in New Orleans before the end of the month. You have the name of the hotel where we are to stay and you know the banker we are to see there. I shall write you a letter to present to him, explaining that I have been unavoidably delayed and that you are to have complete access to my account there." Pinching her gently on the chin, he added, "Don't spend it all on new gowns-when we meet that ship in January, we cannot take very much with us. It will be a military ship, so most of your trunks and baggage will have to be left behind."
Deborah pouted. "I don't see why!" Then, struck by another thought, she suddenly smiled. "But it won't matter. With all the money we are to get from Roxbury, I shall simply buy myself an entirely new wardrobe."
"And do not forget that one of the reasons I am remaining behind is to pilfer the Franklyn cub's fortune," Latimer drawled, a calculating gleam in the blue eyes. "Think of me tomorrow night at the Manchester place, winning all that lovely money for us."
Escorting Deborah on board the packet an hour later, Latimer remarked, "Now, do not forget that a gentleman by the name of Anthony Davis will, no doubt, come to call on you. You may speak freely with him-he is one
of Roxbury's men. Also, a gentleman named Samuel Drayton might attract your attention. It is Drayton who will lead us to the rendezvous site in January. Both men know that we are expected in New Orleans soon and will be watching for our arrival."
"Will you be all right alone here?" she asked anxiously.
Latimer smiled confidently down at her as he ushered her into the cramped, unpleasant little room that would be her quarters until the packet docked in New Orleans. "Nothing is going to happen to me," he said smoothly. "This will be the first time we have been separated and, in this less-than-civilized country, one can never tell what may happen, but I'm sure nothing will."
Her worries easily allayed, Deborah turned her attention to her new quarters, her complaints loud and unending. Several moments later, when Latimer bade her a brief farewell, she was still criticizing her accommodations, and he walked away with her long list of grievances ringing in his ears.
But Latimer had his own grievances to consider, and during the short ride back to the house he brooded on the various methods with which he could strike back at Dominic and Melissa. Everything that had gone wrong with the trip to America he now blamed on Dominic's unwarranted interference, and as for Melissa's part in all of his troubles ... His mouth thinned. Melissa had gravely wounded his pride and he hungered to punish her for having chosen to marry Slade instead of submitting to his demands! He had almost convinced himself that he would have married her! But had it mattered to her? No! She had cruelly spurned him, had teased him and led him on, until she had found a wealthier suitor! Like his sister, Latimer could easily twist facts to satisfy his own purposes ... and his purpose was revenge....
Revenge was the last thing on Melissa's mind when she had ridden home some hours earlier. Even the ridiculous scene with Deborah had faded from her mind, and her thoughts were solely on her husband. A dazzling smile on her lips, she left her lathered horse at the stables and hurried to the house.
Crossing the hallway, she met Bartholomew on his way upstairs with a steaming bucket of hot water. Running up the steps ahead of him, she asked, "Is that for my husband? Is he awake now?"
"Yes, madam," Bartholomew returned in measured accents. "The master woke up some time ago ... he seemed a trifle annoyed when he learned that you had gone riding and that no one knew when you would be back, nor where you had gone."
Melissa flushed guiltily, never having given Dominic's reaction to waking and finding her gone a moment's thought. Speculatively she eyed Bartholomew as they reached the top of the stairs. It was not proper to gossip with one's servants, but Melissa could not help inquiring, "And now? Is he still a 'trifle annoyed'?"
A twinkle in the brown eyes, Bartholomew replied, "I believe, madam, that his, er, annoyance will vanish the moment you walk in."
Melissa sent him a blinding smile. "Oh, I hope so!" she breathed fervently.
Motioning him to go ahead of her into Dominic's room, she whispered, "Don't tell him I am back yet-I want to surprise him."
Nodding wisely, Bartholomew did as instructed, answering Dominic's barked "Has she returned yet?" with a sedate "I do not know, sir. Shall I check at the stables?"
Dominic's back was to the door as he sat in the huge claw-footed copper bathtub, wisps of steam rising slowly in the air, and consequently he did not see Melissa slip inside his room. Her gaze rested lovingly on the portion of his broad back that was exposed above the rim of the tub, and her heart gave a little jump when he answered Bartholomew's question with an explosive "Goddammit, yes! It isn't like her to just ride off, especially not after last-" He stopped speaking abruptly and said in a more normal tone of voice, "Let me know the instant she returns. "
"Very well, sir," Bartholomew replied, winking slyly at Melissa as he walked past her and out the door. For several moments after Bartholomew had departed, Melissa just stood there leaning against the doorjamb, her eyes on Dominic, a warm feeling of anticipation curling lazily within her.
Then, smiling to herself, she felt for the key behind her and, finding it, with a quick twist locked the door. Dominic had been grumbling to himself and did not hear the soft click of the key when it turned in the lock. Stealthily, Melissa removed her boots, then began to undo the buttons of her riding habit as she walked slowly across the room toward Dominic.
Some sixth instinct must have warned him that he was no longer alone, because he suddenly slewed around in the tub, staring in her direction. A lazy smile curved his lips and a frankly carnal gleam came into the gray eyes as he murmured, "Coming to join me, I hope?"
Melissa bit back a gurgle of laughter and with great care unhurriedly removed the top of her riding habit to reveal the fine linen chemise beneath it. An answering gleam in her own eyes, she asked with suspect doubtfulness, "Do you think I should? Would it be proper?" .
With interest he watched as she came nearer, sweet, hot desire building in his veins with every step she took. "Oh, I'm quite sure that it would be perfectly proper," he returned huskily, his gaze mesmerized by the slow, sinuous slide of her riding skirt to the floor.
Standing before him in her chemise, she toyed with the dainty little strap on one shoulder. Then she walked to the edge of the tub and with exaggerated fastidiousness commenced to remove her remaining piece of clothing. Avidly his eyes feasted on the beauty slowly revealing itself to him: the high, coral-tipped breasts, the nipples already puckered and stiff; the narrow waist; the alabaster sheen of the flaring hips and the long, slender legs.
Through passion-narrowed eyes Dominic stared at her, the knowledge that this was his wife, the woman he adored, filling him with a fierce delight. Gliding to his knees in the water, he reached for her. His arms went firmly about her waist as he pulled her to him. His cheek resting against her soft, warm midriff, he closed his eyes in sheer pleasure at her nearness and muttered gruffly, "The next time I wake and you are not in my arms, I shall beat you!"
Not the least disturbed by this apparent threat, Melissa nodded her head in perfect agreement and flexed her fin gers with sensuous enjoyment in his thick dark hair. "Of course," she murmured docilely, "and after you have beaten me . . . ?"
"After I have beaten you," Dominic fairly purred, "I shall have to kiss all your hurts . . . like this. . . ." Deliberately his lips closed over her nipple, pulling it hungrily into the wet warmth of his mouth, his tongue flicking tautly against the sensitive tip.
Melissa moaned softly, her hands cradling his head nearer to her sweetly aching breast. Languor creeping through her limbs, she swayed gently against him, the muted throb of rekindling passion increasing its tempo.
There was nothing hurried about their movements; it was as if last night they had momentarily dulled that first razor's edge of passion and could now simply savor the joy they found in each other's arms. Last night had been the greedy feasting of a starving lover, but now . . . now was a banquet of erotic delights to be relished slowly.
Nuzzling her tingling nipple, Dominic slid his hands to her hips, gently exploring the smooth flesh of her buttocks as he said thickly, "I'm on fire for you already, sweetheart ... all I have to do is touch you and my body bums for you." Sliding without haste backward into the water, he gently dragged Melissa with him, deftly guiding her pliant body where he wanted.
The water was warm, and, filled with a strange inertia, Melissa rested against Dominic's hard length, distinctly aware of every muscle and sinew of his tall form beneath ; her. A ripple of intense pleasure surged up through her as she felt his bulging shaft nudging hotly between her thighs, and her arms twined around his neck, pulling his head down to hers, her lips eagerly seeking his.
They kissed with easy intimacy, their tongues lazily stroking against each other in unhurried, teasing movements, both of them conscious of the obsessive, all-consuming passion that welled up more powerfully with every languid motion they made. It was exquisite torture to deliberately deny themselves deeper caresses, but by an unspoken consent they contented themselves with increasingly more passionate kisses, th
e hungry fire within them blazing brighter and brighter.
Lifting his lips from hers, his eyes smoky with desire, Dominic said roughly, "You're driving me mad!" His gaze dropped to her breast, the swollen nipple half out of the water. Lifting her slightly, he bent his head, hungrily sucking the coral tip deep into his mouth. "Quite mad!" he said in a muffled tone as his lips traveled up her chest to find her mouth once more.
With growing urgency their bodies moved against each other, the silken feel of Melissa's slender form rubbing next to his sending a bolt of naked longing through Dominic. Her body touched his everywhere and he groaned with delight when her hand began to travel with a tormenting lack of haste over his chest, down across his flat belly to tangle in the thick curly hair at the junction of his thighs. She seemed to hesitate there and he nipped her ear, saying huskily, "Oh, Jesus, Lissa! Touch me!" and ungently dragged her hand where he wanted it most.
Wonderingly, Melissa touched him, excited and fascinated by his shape and size, her fingers gliding teasingly up and down the rigid length. There was much pleasure, she discovered, in giving pleasure and, enthralled by her own power, she caressed him more passionately, her own arousal deepening.
His fingers suddenly bit into her waist and insistently he pulled her up over him, her knees fitting snugly on either side of his lean hips in the narrow confines of the tub. One hand behind her head, he caught her lips with his, his mouth moving demandingly over hers, all restraint gone. Blind to everything but his great need, Dominic sought the eagerly yielding flesh between her legs, caressing her urgently until Melissa was writhing uncontrollably against his fingers.
Trembling from the force of the passion that raged within her, Melissa said against his mouth, "Take me, darling. Let me feel you inside me."
Midnight Masqerade Page 47
