Deceive Not My Heart

by Shirlee Busbee

  As for Leonie, she was aware of nothing but the man before her, and seeing his face up close for the first time in almost six years, she was baffled at how little he resembled her memory of the weak, unscrupulous man she had met in New Orleans. Had his eyes always been that piercing shade of blue, the oddly feminine, thick, black lashes intensifying the impact of their gaze? Had his jawline and chin always been so aggressively masculine? The nose so arrogantly formed? And the mouth so frankly sensuous and yet slightly cruel in its shape? She didn't think she could have forgotten his harshly handsome face.... This man was the Morgan Slade she remembered, and yet, he wasn't—but any differences she detected, Leonie promptly put down to the passing years and her own faulty memory. After all, she had only seen the man three or four times and that had been six years ago. There were bound to be changes—she wasn't the same so why should she expect him to have remained untouched by time? The man was Morgan Slade, of that she was positive, even if his actual features did not bear an exact resemblance to the face of her memory. And he was undoubtedly a double-damned villain, she thought with a surge of rage.

  Glaring up at him and ignoring the others, she burst out, "It seems, monsieur, that I have arrived just in time to stop you from carrying out your wicked plan! Mon Dieu, but I never dreamed you were such a scoundrel!" Not stopping to catch her breath, nor giving anyone a chance to speak, she turned to the openmouthed, goggle-eyed Melinda, and with a flicker of sympathy in the great golden-green eyes, she said contritely, "Mademoiselle, I am sorry to cause you distress this way, but you cannot marry this devil!" Earnestly she added, "You will thank me some day for my interference."

  Silently applauding what he not unnaturally assumed was a clever bit of acting, and thinking that Gaylord had hired this enchanting little actress to play the part of a woman scorned, Morgan watched the scene unfolding before him with amusement. In time he would put an end to it and send Gaylord about his business, but for the moment curiosity, as well as a lively sense of humor, kept Morgan from calling a halt to what was for him a delightfully ridiculous descent into absurdity. But why the hell does Gaylord think an accusation of villainy will cause Melinda to cry off? he wondered. Surely there must be more to this farce than an outraged woman warning Melinda of my evil character. Eyeing the red-faced Gaylord reflectively, the dismal thought occurred to him that if this was the best young Easton could come up with, then any hope he had of Gaylord acting as an unwitting ally could be discarded.

  At Leonie's words, the guests began to murmur amongst themselves and glance at Morgan, waiting expectantly for his reaction. Morgan's face remained impassive, although a gleam of mockery danced in the blue eyes, and he had difficulty in keeping from laughing out loud at the scandalized and avid expressions of the people nearest him.

  It was Melinda, though, who broke the silence. The big blue eyes darkening wrathfully, she rounded furiously on Gaylord. "How could you!" she cried angrily. "You've ruined my evening and spoiled everything! I hate you! Do you hear me, I hate you!"

  Leonie stared at her, puzzled by the reaction. Why was this creature angry at Gaylord? She should be grateful to him, Leonie thought with perplexity. Perhaps the young lady didn't understand? And suddenly realizing that she had not made clear the depth of Monsieur Slade's perfidy, Leonie began gravely, "Mademoiselle, do not be angry with Monsieur Easton. He has only your best interest at heart. You should be thankful for his deep concern. You cannot marry Monsieur Slade. He is my—"

  That was as far as she got, for Melinda flashed her a venomous look and snapped, "Oh, shut up! Don't tell me about Gaylord Easton! I don't know what the meaning of this is, but you were not invited to my party, and neither was he. I want you to leave immediately! Do you hear me, immediately!"

  "Melinda, you must listen to her!" Gaylord implored, finding his tongue. "She has something of the utmost importance to tell you. Listen to her!"

  Her lip curling in a sneer, Melinda shot him a look that spoke volumes. "I don't want to listen to her. Why should I?" Clinging even tighter to Morgan's arm, she purred, "I am going to marry Mr. Slade, and nothing you can say will change my mind! So there!"

  Gaylord drew himself up with a hiss of rage at her stubbornness, and completely forgetting himself, in a voice that shook with righteous indignation, he shouted, "You silly ninny-hammer, you can't marry him—he's already married! This is his wife!"

  Chapter 11

  There was a concerted gasp from the assembled guests and Morgan, feeling that the farce had gone on long enough, said in a deadly tone, "I think that's enough out of you, young man. I can sympathize with what you think is a broken heart, but that is no excuse for your offensive actions. Kindly take your little friend in hand, and the two of you find somewhere else to perform your less than amusing antics."

  Melinda glanced up at him admiringly. "Oooh, I just love masterful men!"

  Something that could have been distaste flared for a second in Morgan's eyes, but it was gone so quickly no one saw it but Leonie—and the only reason she did was because she had been staring at him with astonishment. Eh bien! This was something she had never expected. That he would try to weasel out of paying her the dowry, she had been prepared for, but that he would pretend ignorance of who she was had simply never occurred to her.

  Enraged more than she had thought possible, with a violent motion Leonie dug in her reticule and with the green eyes spitting golden sparks, she thrust the marriage papers under his arrogant nose. "Non! We do not leave! Deny these if you will, monsieur!"

  His face betraying only his growing impatience, Morgan unhurriedly took the papers from Leonie's hand. He glanced at them, the thick black eyebrows snapping together in a frown as the import of the officially worded lines and the boldly scrawled signature across the bottom sunk in. His lip curling up in a sneer, he turned a cold gaze on Gaylord and murmured dryly, "I see you have added forgery to your few talents, my young friend. But it won't work. Now, as I said earlier, get yourself and this little harpy out of here!"

  Matthew Slade, who had remained silent by his son's side, said quietly, "May I see them?"

  Indifferently Morgan handed the documents to him, his eyes insolently meeting Leonie's furious ones. Witch! he thought, amused. Gaylord Easton may be the one who pays your bills now, but by this time tomorrow you're going to find yourself with a new protector... one who will make far better use of that impudent mouth of yours than that young fool could ever dream of.

  Leonie did not like the look in his hard blue eyes, but she was not about to back down. Too many people were dependent upon her. She must have her dowry returned to her. She must! Not consciously planning it, she turned to the older man who had asked to see the marriage papers, and the small face alight with earnestness, she said softly, "Monsieur, I do not know who you are, nor do you know me—but I am not a liar, nor are those papers you hold in your hand forgeries. They are authentic. I am married to this man. I married him in New Orleans six years ago this July. I do not lie about this, it is the truth!"

  Her words moved Matthew. That and the damning papers he held in his hands, as well as the sea-green eyes fixed so appealingly on his face. And yet, he couldn't quite believe that Morgan was capable of the perfidious acts that she claimed he had done. Obviously, though, this wasn't something that could be decided in an instant, and clearing his throat uncomfortably, not looking at his son, he said quietly, "I think we had better find a more private place to discuss this." Glancing apologetically at Mr. Marshall, who was beginning to gobble like a turkey cock, he added, "I am sorry for the embarrassment, but until this affair is cleared up, I do not think it would be appropriate to continue with these festivities."

  Morgan may have found Gaylord's machinations amusing at first, but by now any amusement he might have felt had faded. And while the ending of his engagement to Melinda may have been his fondest desire, he did not like the sudden turn of events. For one thing, he knew he hadn't married the scheming little bitch in front of him, and for another,
he didn't like the implication that he was some sort of nefarious villain who went around marrying young women whenever the whim struck him. That his father would even for a moment believe the papers he held in his hands were real was infuriating, and as for the clever green-eyed witch who claimed to be his wife, he'd like to strangle her... or make violent love to her, he thought furiously, undecided which would give him more pleasure.

  Stiffly, Morgan acceded to his father's request, and in a blessedly short period of time he found himself, along with the conniving little baggage who claimed to be his wife and the others most concerned with the debacle, in the green salon of Marshall Hall. Leonie was the only woman present—Mrs. Marshall and Morgan's mother were too busy attempting to alleviate Melinda's shrieking hysterics.

  The betrothal ball had ended abruptly. The guests had left with their curiosity unrelieved, speculation and gossip spreading like wildfire through their ranks. Tonight would not soon be forgotten by anyone.

  Morgan should have been pleased, as his marriage to Melinda Marshall was now out of the question. But he disliked having his hand forced and especially disliked being accused of a crime he had not committed. He particularly objected to being saddled with a wife he didn't want, and the expression in the blue eyes, as they considered Leonie, was unpleasant.

  The entire situation was unpleasant and none felt it more than Leonie. With only Gaylord as her champion, and faced with growing suspicion and hostility by the other men in the room, her heart sank. Several things stopped her from turning tail and running out into the night: She knew she was telling the truth; she had a son as well as several others who were dependent upon her, and she had the agreement that Morgan Slade had signed promising to repay her the dowry given to him by her grandfather.

  In addition to Morgan and his father, Mr. Marshall was present, as well as a young man whom Leonie took to be Morgan's brother; none of them looked sympathetic. Mr. Marshall's plump features were so red and angry that she thought he might explode; the unknown young man was staring at her with hard, suspicious gray eyes; the older man, Morgan's father, had a worried, uncertain expression on his face, and Morgan, lounging carelessly against a tall, mahogany bookcase, was viewing her with open contempt.

  As for Gaylord, he was having second thoughts; after all, what did he know of this woman? She could have been lying about the marriage, and in his eagerness to confront Slade, he might have made a terrible mistake. Hesitantly he began, "Um, I think I should explain how I came to meet this young lady."

  "That won't be necessary," Morgan said bluntly, the blue eyes moving insolently over Leonie. "She has a tongue... one, I might add, she has used to good effect this evening. I'm certain she can explain everything to us." And deciding that divide and conquer might be used to his advantage, he added, "As a matter of fact, I see no reason that you should be part of this meeting. You've played your part. So why don't you leave it to your discovery to finish this drama?"

  The others agreed, and before he could protest Gaylord was shown from the room. "Don't wait for the young lady," Morgan said sweetly. "I shall see that she is taken care of."

  Relieved to be out of it, Gaylord did not demur, and within seconds after informing Abraham to wait for his mistress, he was driving swiftly away from Marshall Hall, torn between elation at having put a stop to Melinda's betrothal and the lowering knowledge that his part may have done him more damage than good. Melinda had been furious, and recalling the tears and tantrums that had erupted once the guests had left, Gaylord shuddered. She might never forgive him!

  Back in the elegant room from which Gaylord had just been ejected, Leonie swallowed, and in a voice that shook with emotion she said, "Messieurs, I regret the timing of my announcement, but nothing can change the facts. You have the proof of what I say in your hands. It is Monsieur Morgan Slade's signature, and he did marry me almost six years ago in New Orleans."

  Morgan flicked one eyebrow up and murmured, "If that is the case, why don't I remember it?"

  It was one of the most difficult moments of Leonie's life. She knew she told the truth, and yet confronted by an outright denial by Monsieur Slade and the obvious disbelief of the others, she was both furious and frightened. Mon Dieu, what was she to do if she could not convince these gentlemen that she spoke the truth? Morgan Slade was apparently going to pretend they had never met, so her one chance was to convince the other men in the room.

  The green eyes staring beseechingly at Matthew Slade, she said in a voice that trembled with despair, "Monsieur, what I tell you is the truth. I have no reason to lie!"

  Matthew moved restlessly, his gaze dropping once again to the document he held in his hands. It had the look of authenticity as he had seen his son's bold, scrawling signature too many times not to recognize it. The slim girl before him had the look and air of a lady, and even more damning, there was a ring of truth to her words. He looked thoughtfully across at his eldest son. Could he have done such a thing? Married a young woman and then deserted her?

  It wasn't something Matthew liked to contemplate, nor did he particularly like the answers that came to him. What did he actually know of this son of his anymore? Once, he could have answered without a doubt that no son of his would do such a thing, but now? Now he didn't know. Morgan had changed a great deal since Stephanie and Phillippe had died. It was possible that he could have married this beguiling young creature with some twisted thought of punishing her for Stephanie's sins. He didn't know. But what he did know was that the document appeared authentic... and so did the young lady.

  Matthew asked quietly, "Will you please tell us how you came to meet my son, and the sequence of events that brought about this marriage you claim took place?"

  Heartened by his slight softening, without hesitation Leonie told him the facts, her vivid face reflecting a variety of emotions as her young voice rose and fell in the room.

  When she finished, there was a waiting silence, broken only when Morgan pushed himself away from the bookcase and said sarcastically, "A touching story, my dear, but one that I fear is patently untrue." Meeting Matthew's eyes, he stated in a hard voice, "I did not marry her! Not even in a drunken stupor! For God's sake, don't you think I would remember?"

  Staring intently at the tip of his shoe, it was Dominic who said softly, "But you were in New Orleans that summer. And you did play cards with Gayoso—you've told me that yourself. Did you by chance meet an old Frenchman by the name of Saint-Andre there?"

  Morgan let out his breath in an explosive sound. The blue eyes glittering with fury, he snapped, "How the hell should I know? It was almost six years ago, and with the exception of Gayoso's sudden death it was an uneventful trip. I stayed with Jason, and I conducted the business I had gone down there to do. And I damn well didn't marry anybody!"

  Where once Leonie had been the one on the defensive, it was now becoming apparent that at least two of the men in the room were giving her story some credence. A note of incredulity in his voice Morgan demanded, "You believe her?" And when neither his father nor brother would answer or meet his eyes, he turned on Leonie and snarled, "Why the hell did you show up now? If I married you six years ago, why did it take you so long to make yourself known?"

  "Because, Monsieur, you and I made a bargain," Leonie spat back. "I promised to make no demands on you and you none on me, and at the end of five years, you were to pay me back my dowry. It is for the dowry that I have come—not you!"

  "Oh, I see," Morgan replied insultingly. "I knew that there must be money involved somewhere. How much do I owe you, cat-eyes?"

  Leonie stiffened at the tone of voice and two spots of color bloomed on the high cheek bones. "Do not call me that! And you do owe me the money!" Reaching once again into her reticule, she pulled out another crumpled piece of paper and hurled it at him. "There, monsieur! There is the paper you signed which promises you shall pay me my dowry back at the end of five years. Deny that too, if you dare!"

  Frowning blackly, Morgan read the paper, his s
ignature once again staring damningly up at him. "Jesus Christ, but you're a clever little bitch!" he finally bit out. "And I'd like to know how and where Gaylord found you so opportunely... or have you merely been waiting for the right moment to strike?"

  Leonie didn't think, she was so angry that there was only one thought on her mind—stop his ugly accusations. Like a small tawny wildcat, she lunged across the room towards him, her hand connecting soundly with his dark, lean cheek. The sound of the slap was like a pistol shot in the room, and Morgan reacted instinctively, his right hand closing like a steel-sprung trap around her slender wrist before he yanked her arm behind her back, forcing her body up next to his.

  The imprint of her hand burned a dark red on his cheek, and in a murderous voice Morgan threatened, "Don't ever do that again, or I'll break your neck!"

  "Morgan!" Matthew thundered, more shocked than he had ever been by his son's actions. He was a gentle man and of the firm opinion that the ladies deserved only cosseting from a man. Morgan's actions were totally outside his comprehension, and the stunned expression on Matthew's face, as much as his tone of voice, made that more than apparent.

  The sound of his name uttered in those shocked accents brought Morgan sharply back to the reality of the situation, and with a snarl he threw Leonie away from him. "Shall I apologize to the lady, father?" he asked in a dangerous tone. "She has accused me of the blackest villainy and has even gone so far as to strike me. For that, I am to meekly bow my head and say, thank you very much? Not bloody likely!"

  Mr. Marshall, although angry and mortified, had remained an avid spectator to everything that had happened and finally managed to break into the conversation. "Disgusting!" he said with affronted dignity. "Matthew, my friend, I do not wish to be insulting, but I cannot say strongly enough that after this violent exhibition of your son's temper, it would be out of the question for my little Melinda to marry him. Even if it turns out that this young lady is lying... which I seriously doubt!" Puffing himself up importantly, he added, "I have never been so embarrassed or insulted in my life as I have been this evening, and no matter what you say, the blame all lies at the feet of your son!" Looking at Morgan the same way he would a coiled snake, he ended pompously, "The only saving grace of this entire affair is that my daughter has been spared a life of what I am certain would have been unmitigated misery. How I could have been so mistaken by a man's character, I do not know! What a shocking evening this has been!"