By unspoken consent they saved the house for last. Gingerly climbing the creaking horseshoe staircase, Morgan remarked unwisely, "It's a wonder you haven't broken your neck on this damned thing."
Like a tigress defending her young Leonie turned on him. "You shall not find fault with the house! If you had paid me my dowry, it would not have gotten this bad." Her eyes flashing with gold flecks, she muttered, "It is your fault!"
"But you're going to forgive me, aren't you?" he asked teasingly, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Leonie gave a saucy toss of her bright hair. "I might," she returned. "And then again..."
There was an easy air between them, and Leonie was conscious of a great bubble of joy that seemed permanently lodged in her chest. She had never thought there would come a day when Morgan Slade would step foot in Chateau Saint-Andre, or that she would be happy to have him at her side... or even more amazingly that she would dare to tease him. But today nothing seemed out of her reach... not even his love.
Covertly watching him as he studied the house, she felt her chest swell with love and wondered at the strange workings of fate. Less than six weeks ago his name had been anathema to her, and now, against all reason, she loved him, wanted above all things to share the rest of her life with him. Mon Dieu, but my heart has much to answer for, she thought with a rueful smile.
When Leonie and the others had left Saint-Andre, the house had been boarded up, but Morgan found a door that had not been properly barricaded and in a few minutes he had forced it open. Grinning at Leonie, he said, "I trust you do not intend to accuse me of housebreaking?"
Laughing, she shook her head and happily danced ahead of him into the house. They did not linger inside. After being closed up for almost two months, the house had an unpleasant musty smell and there was a depressing, forlorn look to the empty, echoing rooms. But the tour gave Morgan a fair idea of the floor plan of the living quarters on the upper floor and the condition of the interior of the house. Walking out onto the shaded gallery, he asked, "What's on the ground floor? The plantation office and such?"
"Oui, monsieur." Leonie pulled a face. "And what few things we had to store. Monsieur de la Fontaine said he would let me keep some of the larger pieces of furniture and what odds and ends that we could not take with us in there until I redeemed the house or until it was sold... whichever happened first."
Morgan's mouth tightened. "That was generous of him."
Leonie glanced at him, a little uneasy at the note in his voice. "It doesn't matter anymore," she finally said. "With my dowry back, I shall be able to deal with him."
Morgan moved closer to her and tipping her chin up, he stared down into her face. "You don't have to, sweetheart. I'll take care of de la Fontaine."
"Oh, but—" she began to argue, and then stopped abruptly as Morgan gently covered her mouth with his hand. Staring down into her face, he said roughly, "You're not alone anymore, Leonie. You don't have to fight every battle yourself. Let me settle with de la Fontaine. I don't mean to belittle your efforts, but I think," he added grimly, "that I can settle all accounts with de la Fontaine far more effectively than you can." A gleam in his blue eyes, he ended with, "He won't try to seduce me!"
Her eyes widening, she jerked her head away and demanded, "How do you know that he tried to seduce me, monsieur?"
Silently cursing his slip, Morgan shrugged his broad shoulders. "Monsieur LeFort mentioned that de la Fontaine is not the gentleman his father was."
"It seems to me you have been doing a lot of snooping! How dare you, Morgan Slade!"
Becoming angry himself, he snapped back, "If you'll remember, until yesterday, I didn't know about the damned marriage! And not knowing about it, I had every reason to believe that you were a conniving cheat out for my money. I'm certain you'll agree it was only logical to find out as much about you as possible."
Some of her quick fury dying, Leonie regarded him indecisively. She was still affronted with his actions, but her sense of fair play made her aware of the reasons behind what he had done. She confessed to herself that, if their positions had been reversed, she would have done the same. Reluctantly, she muttered, "Perhaps you were right, but it still isn't a very pleasant feeling to know that strangers are poking into one's past."
Watching her, Morgan asked carefully, "Is there something in your past that won't bear close scrutiny?"
Puzzled, Leonie glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
His eyes locking on hers he said bluntly, "If I didn't consummate the marriage six years ago, would you please explain to me how it comes about that you arrived in Natchez with a child? A child that you claimed, at first, was mine?"
Chapter 28
Leonie froze. Turning her pale face away, she said stiffly, "I do not want to talk about it."
Morgan regarded her keenly for a taut moment. He wasn't prying maliciously, but the more he knew, the more effectively he could forestall an unholy scandal from breaking over her innocent head. He particularly disliked his own role at the moment—he wasn't her husband as she thought, and yet he was making no attempt to enlighten her. I am as bad as Ashley, he thought. But he dared not tell her the truth, and in order to free them all from the damnable coil Ashley had created he needed all the information he could gain—even if it pained her and was gotten under misleading circumstances.
He almost let the subject drop, but he couldn't; finally he replied quietly, "That's what you said the last time. And as I was laboring under the mistaken impression that you were telling nothing but lies in the first place, I let it go. But I can't any longer—you bear my name, and because of that, I am legally responsible for Justin. I think that entitles me to know his parentage, don't you?" His conscience writhed at the half-lies he was telling, but it had to be done, he reminded himself bleakly. And he did wonder about Justin's parentage.
Not looking at him, Leonie gripped the railing of the gallery so tightly that her knuckles showed white. Morgan's request wasn't unjustified, she admitted miserably to herself. He had acknowledged Justin, and if he was going to allow her subterfuge to continue, then it was only fair that she answer his question.
She closed her eyes in anguish. It had been her secret for so long, her shame and degradation suffered alone in silence, that she didn't even know if she could tell anyone of it. And with things still unsettled between them, still uncertain of his true feelings, she found it even more difficult.
Morgan watched her intently for several seconds, aware with an angry sort of compassion of her embarrassment and bitter reluctance to speak of what had obviously been an ugly episode in her life. That she would not talk of it, told him much. Unable to bear the sight of her unhappy face any longer, he asked roughly, "Was it Maurice? Did he rape you?"
Astonishment caused Leonie to whirl and stare at him openmouthed. Her eyes widening with amazement, she finally got out incredulously, "Maurice? Maurice de la Fontaine?"
That he had guessed badly was very apparent and he replied, "He seems to have been the only man in your life. And as I have gathered Justin's conception is not a pleasant memory for you... it was only natural that I should think of rape... and Maurice."
Leonie gave a half-hysterical little laugh, and the sea-green eyes shimmering with suppressed tears, she said wretchedly, "How very perceptive of you, monsieur! It was rape, you were right about that, but not that it was Maurice. Never Maurice!" She turned her head away in pain, and her throat clogged with remembered shame. But the words came tumbling out, as if the admission of rape had destroyed the restraint she had placed on herself six years ago. "I was somewhere I shouldn't have been, and... and a man, a stranger, m-mistook me for something I wasn't." Her voice raw with agony, she spat out, "He raped me, monsieur! He was too big and powerful for me and I could not stop him! And, and w-w-when it was over I fled." Bitterly she added, "And so now you know—Justin's father could be anyone!" The threatened tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks, she added defiantly, "And if you're ashamed
of us, disgusted with me, if you don't want Justin and me as part of your life, well then, it will be your loss!"
The expression in his hard blue eyes difficult to understand, Morgan stared at her for a moment, and then gently but firmly he pulled her unresistingly into his strong arms. Her cheek crushed up against the smooth cloth of his jacket, she felt his hand moving with incredible gentleness over her hair. "Shush, little firebrand," he murmured into the tawny curls that tickled his chin. "Did you really think you could, disgust me?" he asked unsteadily. Not giving her a chance to answer, he added softly, "I consider it an honor to have you and Justin in my life." Tipping her head up with warm fingers, the blue eyes searched her tear-wet face. "Leonie..." He stopped uncertain what to say, but wanting to say something to ease her pain, to lessen her shame. "It all happened a long time ago—there is no need to punish yourself for something that you couldn't help. You have a fine son... no matter who his father is. And if you'll allow me, I'd like to take the place of his unknown father—I would be proud to call Justin my own."
For a long time they simply stood there staring at each other, each a little hesitant, each a little wary of the other's reaction. And yet as the seconds passed and Leonie saw no sign of the revulsion and condemnation she was positive he would feel, the icy ball of pain that had been lodged in her chest melted. With eyes full of wonderment, she looked at his lean face. "You don't mind?" she got out eventually.
Morgan's mouth twisted. "Of course, I mind!" Something cold and deadly entering the blue eyes, he said harshly, "I'd like to kill the bastard! And if I ever find out who it was, I'm very likely to do just that!"
Her tears drying, a curious lightness spreading through her entire body, the huge, leaden weight of shame she had carried for so long lifting from her heart, she reached up and with shy fingers gently traced the outline of his wide mouth. In a voice that only shook slightly, she murmured, "You are so kind. So much kinder than I ever dreamed. I am grateful to you, monsieur... so very grateful!"
Morgan jerked as if stung, and in an unfriendly tone of voice, he snapped, "I don't need, nor do I want your gratitude, damnit!"
Bewildered, she stared back at him. "But I am grateful. You could have been cruel to Justin, but you weren't. You have been exceedingly kind to him... even to me, and it would be spiteful and mean of me not to tell you of my gratitude, not to express my thankfulness for the way you have treated Justin."
"Very well, you expressed it," Morgan said ungraciously. "So let's just forget about it, shall we?" He didn't mean to be so curt, but as gratitude was the last thing he wanted from Leonie, her words had given him an uncomfortable shock. Perhaps it was only gratitude that had made her accept his offer of a truce, he thought sourly. Only gratitude that kept her by his side? It was a painful assumption on his part, but one that couldn't be ignored. And remembering the note that burned in his vest pocket, he wondered if paying off de la Fontaine had been the wisest thing to do under the circumstances. Might that make her feel even more indebted to him? He wanted her love, not her damned gratitude!
Frustration with the situation and fury at Ashley's imposture eating at him like acid, he turned away and muttered, "I think we've said enough about the entire affair." And changing the subject abruptly, he asked, "Will you show me the boundaries of the plantation?"
Confused by his attitude and dismayed at the coolness that had fallen between them, a subdued Leonie began to point out the various landmarks that set the bounds of the property. There was silence as they tramped over the land, Morgan politely helping her over any obstacles that lay in their path—a fallen cedar tree, the boggy remains of a bayou, sagging fences that lined the property.
Standing near the edge of a dark, sluggish-moving bayou, Morgan looked over in the opposite direction over towards a hardly discernible Mississippi River. "This is the rear boundary? You own from here to the river?"
Leonie nodded her head, her eyes straying wistfully to the luxuriant, rich acres that lay on the other side of the bayou. "We used to own the land that surrounds the Chateau, but all that was sold when grand-pere died." She sighed. "Without the land, the plantation can barely support itself."
"Mmm, you're right about that," Morgan answered, his fingers gingerly touching the frond of a prickly Spanish dagger plant that grew nearby. Idly his gaze rested on the tasseled tops of the sugar cane that was growing in the fields on the other side of the bayou. He had to tell her he had paid the note, and despite having had second thoughts about the wisdom of what he had done, he knew he couldn't have done otherwise. From gratitude could grow love, he reminded himself, knowing he would hate for his love to come to him because of gratitude. But what else could he have done? he asked himself bitterly. Watch her pay out every penny of that damned dowry on the Chateau, when he could do it and not even miss the money? She had suffered enough because of Ashley and he could not, would not, stand by and watch her lose the independence the dowry would give her. It was hers to use for the little elegancies she might desire, for the many things that are dear to a woman's heart... for all the lovely personal things she had never known—not to provide a roof over their heads! That, he vowed, was his concern!
Knowing he could not put off the moment indefinitely, he reached into his vest pocket and extracted the signed note. Almost offhandedly, he said, "I have something for you." A wry smile tugging at the corners of his full mouth, he murmured, "You might consider it a token of my esteem."
Despite his casual behavior Leonie was conscious of an odd tension about him. Puzzled, she reached for the paper he held in his hand. The document crackled loudly in the uneasy silence that had fallen between them. A frown marred her smooth forehead as she glanced at the paper, her eyes widening with shock. A dazed, confused look on her face, she muttered, "But how is this? Mon Dieu, how did you get this?"
Studiously keeping his face expressionless, Morgan said, "I think it should be obvious. I saw Monsieur LeFort and arranged for the note to be paid off."
Her frown increased as she stared first at him, then at the paper. Not quite understanding, she finally asked, "Do you mean that instead of paying me the dowry, you have paid off the note?"
Aware that he was entering extremely dangerous ground now, Morgan answered carefully, "No, that isn't quite what I mean. The note is yours; the Chateau is free of debt and the dowry is yours too."
Leonie stared up at him, her head cocked a little to one side. Inside her breast was a raging conflict, part of her overjoyed and delighted that the Chateau had been saved, but another part of her confused and perhaps just a little angry at his high-handed actions. She hadn't expected him to shoulder her debts; all she had ever wanted was what had been owed to her, and she wasn't certain how she felt about his generous action. Her pride would allow no hint of charity, though, and stiffly she said, "With the debt paid I shall not need the dowry... except what little would have remained."
"Nonsense!" Morgan snapped, his mouth thinning slightly. "I owe you the Chateau, as well as the dowry, you little fool!" he said sharply. "If Ash—If I hadn't taken the dowry when I did, there would have been no debt in the first place. And you should be entitled to some sort of interest on money I've had the use of for these past years."
Leonie wasn't positive she liked being called a little fool and her sea-green eyes sparkled with growing anger. Proudly, she returned, "There was never any discussion of interest between us in the beginning. I see no reason why you should bring it up now."
"Well, I damn well am!" Morgan shot back, his temper rising as quickly as hers. Controlling himself with an effort, he said in a calmer tone of voice, "I'm probably handling this delicate situation with ham-fisted finesse, sweetheart, but I don't mean to. As your husband I want to pay off the Chateau and I want you to have the dowry—can't you understand that?" Dryly, he added, "Accept it as a sign of my reformed character—take it as proof that I am not the scoundrel you thought."
Her indecision was plain. She wanted to take his words at face value,
to take this unexpected action as a sign that he cared for her, but suspicion and pride died hard. Suspicion she could deal with, firmly quashing any ugly thoughts, but her pride was something else. It wasn't proper, she decided stubbornly, for him to take on her debts. And while she appreciated his efforts in her behalf, she could not accept such lavish generosity. Her heart was warmed by his extravagant gift though, and she was aware of an intense feeling of pleasure at the thought of his gracious activity on her behalf.
A regretful little smile curving her mouth, she said gently, "Monsieur, I do not want to appear boorish, but I cannot accept such a generous present from you." Her eyes pleading with his, she added, "Please understand... it wouldn't be fitting."
Morgan regarded her, wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled and force her to give in, and yet, he was touched and moved at her reluctance to do so. Finally he shrugged, and said mildly, "Very well, my dear, if you don't want it, you don't have to have it. But it really is a shame, you know."
Wary now, the uncertainty obvious in the sea-green eyes, she asked, "Why?"
Morgan sighed heavily, dramatically. "Well, you see... I had rather hoped that we could form a... partnership. It so happens that I am buying all of the land that originally went with the Chateau Saint-Andre." Glancing at her, he added with deceptive indifference, "It would have been an excellent situation—the combining of the entire estate into one ownership again. Ah well, I guess it isn't to be."
Leonie stared at him openmouthed, and swallowed convulsively. A look of dawning wonderment, of fierce joy sweeping across her face, she clutched his jacket lapels and squeaked, "All of it? You bought all of it?"
A little smile lifting the corner of his mouth, a gently mocking light in the blue eyes, he nodded. "All of it."
Deceive Not My Heart Page 40
