Consequently, just as soon as she had been seated and morning greetings had been exchanged, ignoring the stabbing pain in her heart, she said, "Monsieur, I think it is time for some plain speaking between us." At Morgan's quizzical look, she continued, "Now that you know I was not lying about the marriage, and that you really do owe me the dowry... as... as soon as you have seen your banker about paying me back my money, I see no reason for us to continue to intrude in each other's lives."
For a long moment Morgan contemplated her, one part of him taking pleasure in the pretty picture she presented in a stylish gown of pale apricot muslin. But while he could take enjoyment from looking at her, another part of him was angry that she could speak so coolly of a parting. With a hint of hardness in his voice, he parried, "Is there some great urgency that makes it so important that we discuss the matter immediately? I'm in no hurry to make any decision that will disrupt our present situation."
His tone confused her, as well as the look in the blue eyes. Yesterday she had thought he could hardly wait to get away from her, and yet today... Bewildered, she blurted out, "But yesterday... yesterday you made it quite clear you wanted only to be rid of me."
Startled, Morgan stared at her. "I did?" Unable to recall having said anything that even hinted at a parting, he reached across the table to catch hold of her hand and said earnestly, "God knows what I said yesterday, Leonie! But this is today and today I want us to make a new beginning." His voice softening, an expression in the dark blue eyes that caused her heart to lurch in her breast, he murmured, "I know that things have not been pleasant between us, but would you agree to a cessation of hostilities, cat-eyes? A time for us to let the past die, and the future to unfold?" A rueful smile lifting one corner of his full mouth, he stated, "I'm asking for a truce, Leonie. Will you be very magnanimous and give it to me?"
Indecisively she regarded him, ripped apart by the fierce struggle that was raging within her—her heart joyfully agreeing, her practical little brain rejecting his request outright. But her heart won the battle—as it always would—shyly, she nodded, saying softly, "Oui, monsieur, we shall try your truce and see what it brings."
Chapter 27
The truce started out well. With Morgan's impending departure no longer looming ominously on her horizon, and the possibility that they might make their marriage work in the offing, Leonie suddenly found the day wonderful.
As for Morgan, the knowledge that Leonie was willing to give him an opportunity to establish himself in her life, gave him hope that perhaps he could risk telling her about Ashley. But not yet, he vowed, watching the small smile that hovered about Leonie's mouth as she sipped her coffee, not yet... I want nothing to change that sweet expression on her face. Nothing to make her look at me with distrust and suspicion. And nothing will, he promised fiercely. Nothing.
They spent a delightful day together, wandering aimlessly through New Orleans, browsing in the shops and viewing the goods of the street vendors. A picnic lunch of fried oysters and crusty French bread was eaten in perfect harmony on a grassy spot near the river, and they leisurely watched the cloudy waters of the Mississippi River as it flowed towards the sea. Munching on a praline, Leonie leaned back against a moss-covered oak tree and thought she had never been so happy. For the first time in her life, she actually viewed the future as something that might be enjoyed—instead of a desperate battle that had to be fought.
For Morgan the day was a mixed blessing. He was becoming more enchanted by Leonie with every passing moment, but he was also bleakly aware that it wasn't the wisest thing he had ever done in his life. He had no guarantee that the lady cared overmuch for him or that she would view his suit with favor.... Especially when she finds out about Ashley, he reminded himself. The knowledge that Leonie really wasn't his wife, that legally, if not rightfully, she belonged to Ashley loomed like a sinister black thundercloud on his horizon.
But despite the obstacles the future might bring, he was able to take a great deal of pleasure from the day. And by the time he dropped a chaste kiss on Leonie's surprised mouth when they parted for the night, he was looking forward to the morrow with optimism.
He hadn't wanted to seek out his own lonely bed, but now that he knew of her innocence, an innate streak of honor kept him from forcing his attentions upon her. Besides, he told himself savagely, she was Ashley's wife!
The next morning was as beautiful and warm as the previous day. Once again they ate breakfast on the small patio. This time though, when Leonie joined Morgan, her eyes were sparkling. "Bonjour, monsieur," she greeted him.
Morgan glanced at her appreciatively, liking the way her white muslin gown contrasted attractively with her golden skin and tawny hair. Dropping a light kiss on her temple, he murmured, "And good morning to you, sweetheart." An imp of mischief dancing in his blue eyes, he teased, "I trust you slept well, in that strange bed. A pity I didn't join you...."
Leonie blushed and wished she were brave enough to return his challenge, but as it was, she ignored his question and instead asked one of her own. "What do you intend to do today, monsieur?"
Looking thoughtful, mindful of the fact that if all had gone well, he should be in possession of the note against Chateau Saint-Andre in a matter of hours, Morgan answered slowly, "I have to drive into town, sometime this morning, but other than that my time is at your disposal. Is there something you would like to do?"
Leonie nodded her head. "Oui, monsieur. I should very much like to drive to Chateau Saint-Andre." A slightly anxious expression on the lively features, she added, "It is almost four hours from here, but if we were to leave fairly early..."
"I don't see any problem," Morgan replied. "As soon as I finish my coffee, I'll drive into town and take care of my business. If you will have our hostess pack a lunch, we could leave within the hour."
Less than twenty minutes later, Morgan was again seated in Monsieur LeFort's office. After explaining the reason for his unfashionably early arrival, Morgan asked, "Were you able to talk with de la Fontaine? And has he signed over the note?"
Monsieur LeFort smiled sourly. "Oui, monsieur. It was simpler than I thought." And at Morgan's look of inquiry, he added, "De la Fontaine has a passion for gambling, but I am sorry to say that he is a very bad gambler. When my messenger found him and gave him the news that the note would be paid in full, he came instantly to my office."
Morgan shrugged. De la Fontaine's plight aroused no sympathy. Quite the reverse. "You have the note?"
"Oui, monsieur. Here it is. Your wife should be pleased."
Morgan glanced at it, a wry smile curving his mouth. "I hope so." He knew LeFort would be unable to understand that his wife would likely berate him for taking a hand in her affairs. Morgan said only, "I must commend you for the swiftness of execution in this matter. I hope that you will have the same luck in the other matters."
Monsieur LeFort looked smug. "The money you asked to have transferred into her name will be taken care of this morning. As for the other matter, I have already contacted the current owner of the lands, and he wishes to sell... especially at the price you have offered."
The rest of the conversation moved swiftly and Morgan left LeFort's office, the note that Leonie had wanted so desperately tucked in his waistcoat pocket.
Morgan drove the curricle back to Madame Brosse's where Leonie was waiting for him, a small reed basket at her side. Five minutes later, they were on their way to Chateau Saint-Andre.
As the horses trotted along the winding, dusty road that followed the meanderings of the river, Leonie looked across at Morgan and asked shyly, "Did you complete your business, monsieur?"
Morgan nodded, his eyes on his horses as they swept narrowly by a large, slow-moving farm wagon. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did." The wagon passed, he glanced down at her and murmured, "And you should be gratified with the results."
Because suspicion died hard, especially in view of Morgan's past behavior, Leonie asked, "Why? Was your business about my dowry?"
Morgan grinned. "That, too, was taken care of. As a matter of fact, by this time tomorrow, it is very possible that I shall be handing you your dowry, or at the very least, the legal documents that transfer the money from my account to one in your name alone."
An expression of mingled delight and wariness crossed her face. "Truly?"
"Truly," he said gently. "Monsieur LeFort assured me that by tomorrow he will have taken care of everything."
Momentarily diverted, Leonie asked,"Monsieur Emeri LeFort? He is your business agent?"
Morgan nodded.
"How strange! Did you know that he was also my grand-pere's man of business?"
"I didn't until yesterday when he informed me of that fact."
Leonie shook her head in amazement. "It is a very small world, isn't it, monsieur?" she said at last.
There was a light reply from Morgan and for several seconds they rode in silence, Leonie swamped by a bewildering variety of emotions. The news that Morgan was finally repaying her dowry filled her with excitement and joy; at last she could pay off the note that Maurice de la Fontaine held against the Chateau Saint-Andre! Her hope of saving it for Justin would be realized, she thought exultantly. Yet interspersed with this elation was a pang of sudden doubt and confusion. Was saving the plantation the wisest course? Once, and not too long ago, she had decided that if Morgan had wanted to make their marriage real that the dowry could be used to secure Justin's inheritance, but now she was assailed with uncertainty.
Biting her lower lip, she calculated the amount of money that would remain after the note had been paid. It would be a mere pittance, barely enough to support her little family. I have been deluding myself,she concluded disgustedly. Using the money to save the plantation would be foolish, and Justin certainly would not thank her for it when he became a man. But if he loved the land as much as she did? She sighed. How could one decide that about a five-year-old boy?
There was another aspect to the situation that she had not considered, she suddenly realized. Despite the fact that Morgan was being charming at the moment, and while she had her fingers crossed for the future, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't do as he had done in the past and make another one of those lightninglike changes. Uncertainly she looked at him. I love him so much, she thought despairingly, and yet I do not understand him, nor do I quite trust him Perhaps, she mused unhappily, there will be no need to make a decision about the dowry—our truce may not last...
Leonie's silence hadn't gone unnoticed by Morgan, nor had his news pleased her as much as he had thought it would. Frowning slightly, he asked abruptly, "Don't you believe me about the dowry? God knows, I haven't given you much reason to trust me, Leonie, but I swear to you, you shall have the money tomorrow."
As that particular disagreeable notion hadn't occurred to her, she was able to say quite truthfully, "Oh, no, monsieur! I mean, oh, yes, I do believe you! At least," she added with a sudden mischievous smile, "I haven't yet considered the possibility that you might be lying."
A rueful grin curved Morgan's mouth. "I'm not lying, cat-eyes. But if you do believe me, why do you seem so unhappy? I thought you wanted the dowry above everything."
"I did! I do!" she began and then stopped helplessly. Staring blindly at the verdant undergrowth that lined the meandering road, she said reluctantly, "Before I went to Natchez everything seemed so simple. I needed my dowry to save Chateau Saint-Andre, and I was going to get it from you, no matter what! I would pay off Monsieur de la Fontaine, and then Justin and I, and the others, if they wished, would have lived our lives as we always had." Almost resentfully, she added, "But nothing worked out the way I had it planned!"
"Is that so very bad?" Morgan murmured.
Her troubled gaze swung back to him, the golden-green eyes studying his lean features. "I don't know," she admitted.
"Suppose you don't worry about it this afternoon, hmm?" he suggested. "We will put our troubles aside and enjoy each other's company, taking the hours as they come."
Leonie nodded her tawny head. Morgan was right. She didn't have to decide anything today—she was on her way to her beloved Chateau with the man she adored, and she would think of nothing else but the joy that was hers at this moment.
It was almost two o'clock when Morgan finally turned the horses off the main road and headed them down the bumpy, overgrown lane that led to the Chateau. The closer they had come to the plantation, the more obvious had been Leonie's growing impatience to see her home again. With childlike glee she had eagerly pointed out familiar sights—the homes of neighbors, barely seen through the moss-hung oaks and underbrush, the small bayou where she went fishing, and protruding out into the muddy waters of the Mississippi the sagging, rotting landing docks of Saint-Andre.
She made no excuses, neither for the disreputable condition of the wooden docks, nor the wretched state of the road that would bring them to the house. Instead there was an odd air of haughtiness about her, as if she dared Morgan to make even one critical remark. Not that he would have been so foolish, he thought with tender amusement observing the pleasure and pride with which she revealed the faded charms of the plantation.
Having cast an experienced eye at the landing docks, he came to the conclusion that the most practical solution would be to dismantle them entirely and have new docks built. As for the lane to the plantation, he grimaced as the wheels of his well-sprung curricle hit a large pothole. Tomorrow morning, he promised himself, I shall hire a crew to come out and get started on repair work.
It was only as they came closer to the house itself that Leonie displayed any sort of nervousness. Shooting Morgan a curious look of mingled embarrassment and fierceness, she said, "The house has not had any money spent on it in at least twenty years, monsieur. Please remember that when you see it." That was as close to a defensive remark about her home that she would ever come. But unconsciously her fingers dug painfully into the palms of her hands, and she steeled herself for Morgan's reaction to his first sight of the Chateau.
The lane ended abruptly and there drowsing in the hot, yellow sunlight was the Chateau Saint-Andre. Leonie's heart leaped at the sight of the house and she felt a sudden rush of tears. Despite its faded elegance, to Leonie it was the most beautiful house in the world. She reveled in its remembered charms—the tall double doors with the attractive fanlights above them, the steep, dormered, hipped roof, the intricately designed balusters and the glorious sweep of the horseshoe-shaped staircase. It didn't matter that some shutters dangled lopsidedly at the doors, or that the paint was peeling, the gutters sagging, or that weeds choked the grounds—it was home and she had fought for it too long, had loved it too intensely, to be deterred by such mundane things. With an agonizing knife-thrust of pain, she wondered how she had even for one moment considered not saving it. Then she swallowed convulsively. If she had to choose between the house or Morgan, she knew that there would never be any real choice. She loved Chateau Saint-Andre but Morgan was her life; without him nothing would matter.
Morgan pulled the horses to a stop near the house and thoughtfully stared at the building. Taking in the blistered paint, the sagging staircase, the missing gaps in the balusters, the shutters that hung haphazardly at the long double doors and the general air of decay, he very nearly turned the horses around and drove them at a breakneck pace back to New Orleans.
But realizing that to do so would seriously jeopardize his standing with the proud little creature at his side, he took another look—a long, careful look—and it was then that the house began to cast its spell over him. For the first time Morgan saw the charm in the building, the elegant sweep of the horseshoe-shaped staircase, the fine workmanship of the slender wooden colonnettes that encircled the upper story, and the delicate grace of its construction. It must have been absolutely breathtaking at one time, he admitted slowly to himself, aware of a sharp pang of regret that it should have been allowed to reach its present state of decay. Consideringly, his gaze swept to the matching pair
of colonnaded gargonnieres that flanked the main house, noting how their equally moldering state could not obscure the elegant lines. The smaller buildings duplicated the design of the house, and viewing the attractive setting of the buildings, the massive, spreading moss-draped oaks, the towering cedars and magnificently flowering magnolia trees, Morgan decided that the site held definite possibilities.
Staring intently at the house and its lush, beautiful background, he was suddenly aware of an odd sense of homecoming, as if all his restless wanderings had been leading him to this one place... to this one woman. Such a powerful sensation of rightness, of inevitability swept over him that he was startled by its depth and intensity. The house pulled at some buried part of him, wakening him to dreams he had thought long dead... perhaps, even to happiness.
The silence seemed to go on forever, and finally, unable to bear the suspense, Leonie risked a look at his face, and demanded almost fiercely, "Well? What do you think of it?"
His head full of half-forgotten dreams, for a second Morgan stared at her blankly, and then said huskily, "I think it is perfect. Or, rather, it will be."
A smile of pure delight crossed Leonie's expressive features. "Truly, monsieur?" she breathed.
A mocking gleam in the dark blue eyes, his gaze on her mouth, he murmured, "I thought we had decided my name was Morgan?"
Leonie blushed, but she would not be sidetracked. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
His eyes never leaving her face, he agreed, "Very beautiful."
Shy with him, she glanced away from the look in his eyes, and scrambled out of the curricle. "Come, I will show you everything."
After securing the horses, Morgan followed her as she darted excitedly to one place and then another. "See, here is the barn!" And then rushing off in another direction, she cried, "And there are the stables. And over there is where our garden was. And over here is..."
Deceive Not My Heart Page 39
