"She is quite well, thank you." Garth was cool and polite.
"Please give her my regards when you see her," said Madame Arceneaux lamely. Andre blinked at us and worked his mouth soundlessly. "Such a surprise!"
"I'll do that." Garth bowed to them and took my arm. "Good day, Madame. Monsieur." We went inside.
The manager of the hotel ran over to us. "Ah, Monsieur McClelland, your suite is ready. If either you or Madame requires anything—"
"I should like a hot bath, a bottle of champagne, and a personal maid," I told him. He bowed delightedly and scurried away. I turned to Garth. "No home in the city, Garth?" I chided him. "How shocking for a man of your stature and reputation."
He smiled. "It's full of carpenters and painters at the moment, my dear. Most annoying."
"I'm sure. You know, I never saw Lydia Arceneaux at a loss for words like that before. She seemed quite surprised to find us together. Tell me, who is this Georgette she asked about?"
The manager came running up again, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "Everything is ready, Monsieur, Madame. Your trunks are on their way up, and a young lady named Savannah has been assigned to Madame for the duration of her stay here."
"Excellent, Gaston," Garth said approvingly. "Elise," he turned to me, "I shall call on you a little later. I have some business to attend to now."
He started to move away but I rested my gloved hand on his arm and restrained him. "Who is Georgette?" I asked him again. I knew what his answer would be, but I had to hear it from his own lips, the lying traitor. "I'm too curious, I know."
He pressed my hand to his lips. "Georgette? Why, she is my wife, dear child. Au revoir."
Thunderstruck, I gaped after him as he left the hotel. I felt deaf, dumb and paralyzed, and I only dimly heard the manager requesting me to follow him up to my suite. When I was alone in the sitting room I stood for a full five minutes at the long window that overlooked the courtyard below. I saw nothing. My brain was tumbling around and around and I was calling myself every kind of fool. What an idiot I was! But I had never thought, never even guessed. My heart was pounding furiously and breathing was difficult. I wondered irritably if I was going to faint. I felt hot all over, then cold, then sick with fury.
I threw myself into an armchair and tried to think clearly. Damn these men! Damn Lafitte, who was so Frenchified that he took marriage for granted and never thought to mention that Garth had a wife. He must have known about her, and he must have known that Garth wanted me for his mistress, nothing more.
Well, what had I expected? That Garth would claim me for his own true love and marry me? I laughed bitterly, and the laugh became a sob that stuck in my throat. I wept silently for a few minutes. I didn't want to be his kept woman, his possession. I didn't want to be known to the citizens of New Orleans as Garth McClelland's mistress. Oh, I had been Lafitte's mistress, it was true, but my relationship with Lafitte was different, special. He was my savior and my friend. He was not married, he loved me, he had never paid for my services. I winced as I thought of the word. We had served—and loved—each other. What had I been thinking of? Why, why had I left Jean for Garth? And I couldn't go back. I was too ashamed and too embarrassed to admit that I had been so naive.
I drew myself up and said aloud, "It isn't as though I love him." But even as I spoke to the large empty room I knew that what I felt for Garth came dangerously close to love. I still wanted him, even though he had never shown me an ounce of respect or consideration. Oh, I was a fool.
There was a light tap at the door that connected the sitting and bed rooms. A thin, light-skinned Negress with clear blue eyes and pock-marked cheeks poked her head into the room.
"'Scuse me, Ma'am, but your bath is ready."
"Thank you." I stood up and dried my eyes, thankful that I had gotten it out of my system before Garth returned. He would never see me crying for him. I would die before I showed that much weakness. "You must be Savannah?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Savannah, after I'm in my bath I want you to open the champagne and keep my glass filled."
"Yes, Ma'am!"
I went into the bedroom and stripped off my traveling clothes and pinned up my hair. I stepped into the steaming tub and let the blissful warmth soak the strain and sorrow out of my body. The bath and bubbling wine relaxed me, and I closed my eyes and wondered what to do next.
"Do you want me to unpack your things, Ma'am?" Savannah asked.
"No, Savannah," I said decisively, "I won't be staying here. Just look in that smaller trunk, will you? You'll find a white silk wrapper on top, and underneath there's a mauve gown and accessories. I shall need only those things and nothing more tonight, if you please." I sighed deeply. "And pour me some more champagne. I find it has a soothing effect."
"Yes, Ma'am. You sure has some beautiful things, Ma'am. You is lucky."
Lucky? I thought. Perhaps. Oh, why hadn't I known when I was well off? For a moment I hated Jean for letting me go, and then I realized that he had justly left the decision up to me. He and Garth would have fought until they were both dead, and I had intervened because—because I had really wanted to go with Garth. I stirred impatiently and watched the ripples in my bathwater lap against the sides of the tub.
Garth entered the bedroom casually, without knocking, as if he had every right to be there. I saw that he had changed into evening clothes. He poured himself some champagne, then he sat on a chair near the bath and crossed his legs nonchalantly.
"You may go, Savannah," I said softly. "I won't need you any more tonight."
She slipped silently out of the room. Ignoring Garth, I proceeded to finish my bath as though he wasn't even there. When I rose dripping out of the water, however, he came over to me and wrapped a soft towel around my shoulders. I took it without saying a word and stepped out of the tub without even glancing at the hand he extended to assist me.
I dried myself languidly, then slipped on my wrapper and sat down at the dressing table. I splashed myself liberally with eau de cologne, then unpinned my hair and let it cascade to my shoulders. I brushed it with strong, vigorous strokes. I was keenly aware of him sitting there, watching my every movement with those damnably cool, fathomless eyes. I sipped my wine and dawdled over my toilette, arranging my hair into ringlets around my face and drawing the rest into a fluffy chignon at the crown.
I drew on my silk stockings with slow, voluptuous movements. My wrapper was hanging open to the waist but I made no attempt to close it. Let him look, I thought. That's all he's going to get.
"I'd forgotten how really magnificent you are, Elise," he said softly. "You've grown up."
"What did you expect?" I demanded acidly before I could stop myself. "One cannot remain a whimpering virgin of seventeen forever."
Our eyes met in the mirror over the dressing table and I quickly looked away. "No, thank God," he said lightly, "even virgins can be cured."
I threw off my wrapper and slipped on a sheer organza undergarment with fine transparent lace panels over the breasts. I slid my feet into tiny kid slippers, tied the bodice of the chemise tightly so that my breasts swelled up over the top, and put on the gown that Savannah had laid out for me. It fit perfectly, hugging my bust and flaring away at the hips, but I had some difficulty with the fasteners on the back. I had dismissed Savannah prematurely, I realized with annoyance.
Garth came up behind me and pushed my clumsy fingers away. "Allow me."
"Please don't bother," I said stiffly. "I don't need any help."
"Of course you do." His fingers worked slowly and lazily. "I see that you haven't unpacked yet."
"I'm not staying."
"Oh. I'm sorry the suite doesn't meet with your satisfaction," he said calmly. "I'll ask for another room, if you like."
"It's not the suite and you know it!" I said angrily. I took a breath and forced myself to regain my self-control. "Aren't you finished yet?"
"No. Next time you want to show me how you can dress yourself,
you might choose a gown with fewer than a hundred fasteners." I gritted my teeth and took in another deep breath. "Ah," he said rapturously, "your breasts still quiver when you are angry. Now don't pull away, Elise, or I'll never get you hooked up. This color suits you. I must buy you a diamond and amethyst necklace to wear with this gown. Yes, Lafitte does have taste, I'll give him that much. In clothes, women—"
"You may keep your amethysts," I said icily. "I don't care for them. And I chose this gown myself and paid for it myself. Lafitte did not have to buy my—" I bit my lips and tried to control my anger. Why did I have to let him see how much he annoyed me? Why did I always have to rise to the bait?
"Excellent," he said approvingly. "I like a girl who wants to make her own way in the world. There, done."
I put on a diamond necklace and fastened matching clips to my ears. Then I drew on my gloves and picked out a mauve silk and ivory fan. I swept past him. When I reached the door he ducked in front of me and rested his hand on the knob.
"Don't you think we should talk before we dine?" he said.
"I have no intention of dining with you," I informed him. "And as for talk—" I heard the quiver in my voice and struggled to get it under control, "as for talk," I said calmly, "we have nothing to discuss, Monsieur. Please let me pass."
"You have grown up, Elise," he marveled. "In the old days when you were angry with me you would have thrown a vase at my head. I must congratulate you on this new maturity, my dear."
"I am not interested in your praise, Monsieur," I said levelly, meeting his gaze. "I am not interested in anything about you."
"Not even in my wife?"
My spine stiffened. Salty tears burned my eyelids. "Why did you bring me here, Garth?" I asked in a husky voice. "To torment me? Didn't you have enough of that on the Charleston Belle? Do you want to punish me? For what? Because I survived that devil's madness? Why, why did you have to come back into my life at all? Why didn't the British kill you? I—I thought they had!"
He smiled grimly. "They tried, but I wasn't ready to die. Why are you so distressed, Elise? I am merely an old friend who decided to pay a call and see how you were faring." He touched my cheek. "You decided to come with me, after all."
"Bah! Liar!" I slapped his hand away. "Don't spin me any of your fairy tales. Old friend, indeed! You never felt any friendship for me at all, ever! You make me sick, you greedy bastard. I know all about men like you, Garth. You see something that attracts you and you start scheming about how to get it before you are even sure that you want it or that it will be good for you."
"I know what's good for me," he said slyly.
"You're a dog in the manger!" I shouted. "You don't really want me for yourself, but it killed you to see me with Lafitte, didn't it? What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do you think I can ever forget what you did to me? Would I have suffered any of those torments on the Charleston Belle if it hadn't been for you? I shall never forget those days, Garth, and I shall never forgive you. You think you can install me as your mistress in some dingy little house on a back alley, or in a room in a second-class hotel, and then come around and visit me twice a month or whenever you feel like it. No, my fine friend, I am not about to sacrifice the freedom and luxury I enjoyed on Grand Terre for that. I am my own woman now. No man owns me and no man tells me what to do. When I am ready to choose a lover I will choose, not he. And I would have to be a true imbecile and blind before I chose you. Let me pass!"
He shook his head. "You're as stubborn and willful as ever. Hellcat. But I let you have your say. Now I shall have mine."
He grasped my shoulders and spun me around so that my back was against the door. He towered over me and lowered his face to kiss me. I looked around desperately for a way to escape, but I was trapped. I scratched and pawed at his face, but my gloved hands made no impression at all. He laughed at me as I struggled vainly, and he captured my face between his cool hands and kissed me roughly. I bit down on his lip as hard as I could. He drew back and instinctively put his hand up to his mouth, and I seized my chance and kicked him as hard as I could on his wounded thigh. He sucked in his breath and I saw that his face was white and drawn with pain. I darted across the room, out of his reach.
"Don't come near me," I gasped. "I swear, Garth, I'll kill you if you touch me."
"You still need taming, woman," he breathed. He came towards me slowly, limping slightly on his hurt leg. I saw the dangerous light in his eyes and I fell back against the dressing table.
My groping fingers found my hairbrush and I threw it at him. It bounced off his shoulder and deterred him not at all. I felt around and grasped a heavy perfume flask. I sent it flying after the hairbrush. Then I hurled a vase, a champagne glass, a figurine. He loomed over me, his arms outstretched. I dodged one way and when he moved to follow I ducked under his arm and ran in the opposite direction.
In a panic I rooted among the stockings and lacy undergarments in my open trunk until I found the case that contained my two prized pistols—both loaded. I wrenched the lid open and snatched up one pistol. The smooth wood of the butt felt good in my hand, familiar. I whirled around and faced Garth, who was almost on top of me.
"I'll fire," I warned him breathlessly.
He lunged at me. As I pulled the trigger he knocked my arm upwards and sent the gun spinning out of my hand. The ball of the pistol buried itself harmlessly in the ceiling, sending down a shower of plaster dust. I fell backwards and he came crashing down on top of me. Stunned and winded, I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to catch my breath. When I opened them again I saw him standing astride me. He was naked and his bandage was blood-soaked. I had broken the wound open when I struck him.
I shrank away from him. "Stay away from me, Garth. I'm warning you."
Kneeling over me, he grasped the front of my gown in his two hands and rent it in two from top to bottom in one swift, strong motion. He lay panting on top of me and plunged his fingers into my disheveled hair. I glared at him through wild eyes.
"I'd forgotten just how stimulating your company could be, Elise," he said breathlessly.
"Someday," I fumed, "someday I really will kill you. I swear it."
He made a purring noise far back in his throat and kissed me. I braced myself, certain that he was going to hurt me, but his mouth was surprisingly tender.
"Why so stiff, Elise?" he asked with an amused shake of his head. "Surely you're not afraid of me?" I muttered an obscenity. He frowned disapprovingly. "Poor little Elise. Still a wild creature with no manners, aren't you?" I prepared to spit in his face but he covered my lips with his mouth and kissed me again.
He moved his mouth slowly on mine, exploring, rediscovering. His hands began to move languidly over my body. They were cool and smooth and knowledgeable. A spasm of pleasure passed through me, leaving me limp and flushed with excitement. I felt myself relaxing under his gentle touch and a little ecstatic sigh escaped from my lips. I stirred against him. I could feel the moist stickiness of the blood on his thigh. His mouth traveled over my whole body—over my breasts, my abdomen, my thighs—to the core of my being. The old flame of longing roared up and engulfed me. I had missed him. God, how I had missed this man.
"Garth, oh, Garth," I murmured softly. I caressed him tenderly.
"Bitch," he said warmly. "Sweet, sweet bitch."
He drove his angry manhood deep into me and I took him greedily. We fused together, hot molten flesh that only an earthquake could sunder. I felt an enormous fissure opening inside me and I was sucked into breathless, pulsating darkness. There was no one like him. There would never be anyone to match him. We knew each other so well in the darkness. Why, why did we ever have to come up into the light again?
"You've learned your lessons well," Garth said later, rubbing his cheek against my hair. "Lafitte must be an excellent teacher."
"I wish you'd stop giving Jean Lafitte all the credit," I said testily. "I taught him a few things, too. You, on the other hand, haven't learned a thing since
I saw you last. And you're still dreadfully hard on ladies' garments."
"They still insist on wearing clothes," he said. "That's not my fault."
I took a breath and said, "I won't be your mistress, Garth."
"I don't remember asking you," he said drowsily.
"No. No, you didn't ask. I suppose you were waiting for me to volunteer."
"Something like that." He licked my ear and nuzzled my face and neck.
"Well, I won't! Whatever I am, I'm not an adulteress." He grunted. "Was that Georgette at the opera that night?" I asked.
"Yes." He kissed the hollow of my throat and my breasts.
"Stop that! I'm trying to talk to you."
He laughed. "Forgive me, Elise. Whenever I'm with you my manners desert me. You were saying?"
"We were discussing Georgette. She's—she's rather attractive," I conceded. "Have you been married long?"
"Twelve forgettable years."
"That long?" I was astonished.
He said with mock seriousness, "I am nearly thirty-three years old, my dear little chit. Our marriage was arranged for us in accepted Creole fashion by our fathers when we were children."
"Oh." Yes, I could understand that. I recalled my ill-fated betrothal to the Baron. "Do you—do you love her?"
He sighed. "You women and your questions!" I realized then that all his women probably asked him the same thing. "Love never entered into it," he said patiently. "I married an enormous dowry and nearly two hundred thousand acres of prime land. Our plantations adjoined, you see. The McClellands went from being merely rich to being fabulously wealthy. Money is a great consolation, Elise, in a loveless marriage. You can do a lot when you have money."
"Oh, yes, I know that," I said. "You can buy yourself a seat in the Senate, and a box at the opera, and a string of mistresses a mile long." I drew away from him and pulled on my wrapper. "But you can't buy me, Garth," I said, crossing the room to the window. "Not that you've offered, of course, but it might have come to that eventually. I am on my own, Garth. I'm free."
"Of course you are," he agreed. "And just what do you intend to do with your freedom, if I may ask?"
Savage Surrender Page 26
