I stiffened. "No, how could I know? Really, Jean, I have never known you to take an interest in idle gossip. I don't care a whit who Garth is seeing or what his wife thinks about it. And he's no more a 'poor fellow' than you are!"
"He is very good to his mistresses," Jean said.
I was amazed at the stab of jealousy that I felt. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Jean, what are you suggesting? That I would have been better off if I had let him keep me? You don't understand, Jean. I—I didn't want it that way. I didn't want to feel as though I belonged to him."
"Did you feel as though you belonged to me?" he asked gently.
"No. No, I didn't, but it was different with you, Jean. I don't know how to explain it."
"You weren't in love with me," he said a trifle wistfully. "Therein lies the difference."
"That's nonsense," I said scornfully. "It's simply not true. Only a fool would fall in love with a man like that. I am quite sure that Garth McClelland can be sweet and charming and loyal to a woman, but I have never seen that side of him. How could you allow yourself to be taken in by him? I thought you were a better judge of character than that."
Lafitte grinned. "Very often one's judgment becomes clouded by other emotions. I disliked Garth before we met because he represented the sole threat to my love for you. Looking back, I can see now that I was mistaken, that the clarity of my thinking was disturbed by the turmoil in my heart. You may think you hate and resent him, but—"
"The idea!" My cheeks reddened. "Why, I haven't seen him in weeks, months! I am surprised at you, Jean. It's not like you to meddle like this in my affairs!"
"Forgive me, my darling." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I have your best interests at heart, believe me. I don't want you to be lonely."
"Lonely!" I scoffed. "I am never lonely, Jean. Why, Jacques Fournier calls on me every day, and he writes beautiful letters as well. And he's not the only one. I get at least six letters every morning—"
Jean shook his head. "Boys, Elise, children. You are a woman, and a woman needs a man to make her happy."
"Jean, in another moment I shall have you ejected bodily! You're—you're being disgusting. I am sick and tired of you virile cavaliers who think you are the only ones who can satisfy a woman's needs. Can't a woman enjoy a friendship with a sensitive, gentle young man without you assuming that she's withering on the vine? I don't want to hear another word about it."
Savannah appeared at the French door. "Monsieur Fournier, Ma'am."
Jean sighed and stood up. "Time for me to be going, Elise. Every time I see that young whelp simpering over you I want to kick him from here to Grand Terre. I shall never understand you women, never."
"Poor Jean." I said, kissing him fondly. "He's not that bad."
Jacques came out of the house. He and Lafitte bowed formally to each other. Lafitte stayed for a few minutes chatting politely, then he excused himself.
"He hates me," Jacques said sagely, "because he is still in love with you himself. I can understand that, Elise. I don't see how a man could ever stop loving you."
"Don't talk nonsense," I said. "Jean doesn't hate you, he doesn't hate anyone. He's a very busy man, you know that."
"I'm busy, too, Elise. I've labored all morning on a poem for you. Would you like to hear it?"
I said I would, and as he read his seemingly interminable ode to my beauty I fixed an interested expression on my face and permitted my thoughts to wander. So Garth was seeing the Duplessis girl, was he? I had caught a glimpse of her at a ball one night. She was quite beautiful, and young—only sixteen. I wondered if I had begun to lose my looks. Great Heaven, I was nearly twenty! That horrid man. He was nearly old enough to be her father. I had been rather surprised that he hadn't bothered to call even once since I had moved into the house on Rue St. Charles. His actions had been typical, the scoundrel. He had used me for a night, and then gone on his way. He didn't care about me, he never had. I was delighted that I had foiled his little scheme, delighted that I would never be his whore. And I certainly didn't love him, I was sure of that. Jean was becoming just like an old woman. How could anyone love a man like Garth, especially if they knew, as I did, that he could not return that love?
"Did you like it, Elise? I meant it, every word."
I pressed Jacques' hand warmly. "It was lovely, Jacques. Simply beautiful. I am so flattered. You have such style, such wit."
"Do you think so?" He was pathetically eager for my approval. Suddenly he was on his knees in front of me, with his hands clasping mine tightly. "Elise, I love you! You must know it by now. I have never loved a woman before, not the way I love you. You are so beautiful, so much in command of yourself. You are a magnificent woman, the most gorgeous creature God ever created!"
"Dear Jacques," I protested gently, "please get up, I beg you. Of course I am very fond of you, but—"
"Marry me, Elise," he said passionately. "Right now, today! Marry me and come home to La Rêve as my wife. I want you desperately, my darling. Give me a sign, just a word. Let me hope. I beg you, Elise, say you will be mine!
I shook my head. "It's impossible, Jacques, impossible! You are so young—"
"I am older than you are!" he cried. "I'm nearly twenty-six. I'm not a boy, Elise. I'm a man and I know what I want. I am determined to have you. You'll have everything you want, I promise you. Carriages and servants and clothes. You can give parties and balls every day if you want. Only say you will marry me. Please. Marry me!"
"Get up, Jacques," I urged him. "Can't you see that it would be a grave mistake for you to marry me? I'm not even respectable."
"That's not true!" he declared staunchly. "And even if it were it doesn't matter. Why, only yesterday I heard one of Mother's friends saying that when one was closely connected with royalty it didn't matter if one was well behaved or not. Everyone knows you're nobility, that you're Napoleon's goddaughter. Why, you'd be a brilliant match for anyone, and if you choose me, Elise, you will make me the happiest man on the face of the earth. I want you, Elise." He buried his face in my lap and murmured, "If you only knew how much I love you."
"Get up at once," I said tartly. "You—you mustn't do this, Jacques."
He raised his head. "Promise me you'll consider it, Elise. That's all I ask. Just think about what it would be like. You don't have to give me your answer today. I can wait a week, a year, a thousand years, if I know there is hope. Just give me a sign, a nod. Say that you'll think it over, my dearest. If you refuse me, I—I don't know what I'll do!"
I sighed wearily. "I will think about your offer, Jacques, I promise. Now please go. I have a slight headache and I would like to lie down before dinner."
"You're having guests this evening and you didn't invite me," he accused sullenly.
I said, "I didn't invite you because these are not very respectable people, Jacques. They're from the theater—"
"You're much more concerned with respectability than I am," he grumbled. "I have done a great many scandalous things that I wouldn't dare tell you about, Elise."
I stifled a smile. "I'm sure you have. Now please, Jacques—"
"I won't go until you promise again to consider what I have asked you." He squeezed my hands so tightly that they felt numb.
I looked down at his upturned face. He was so young, so handsome, so ardent. Perhaps I could—but no, it would be wrong, terribly wrong. Did I really care so much about respectability? Did I want so much to live in society again instead of on the fringes with courtesans, actresses, quadroons? Since I had come to live in New Orleans alone the best homes were closed to me. The families who had entertained Jean Lafitte and me in grand style the year before now snubbed and shunned me because they thought I was something I was not, and I hated them for thinking it. I thought ruefully that all those years I had spent at the Chateau with the word 'honor' ringing in my ears must have influenced me more than I knew.
Poor Jacques, gazing up at me so passionately, with all the love he felt for me shining out of his
eyes. If someone else had looked at me like that, just once, I would have done anything for him, gone anywhere, been low and dirty and savage, and I would have gloried in it. But he didn't love me. And Jacques did.
"You have my solemn word," I said. "Write to me tomorrow, as always?"
"I swear it!" He kissed my hands and wrists. "Oh, my darling, we can be so happy together."
When he had gone I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet fragrance of roses in the garden. I felt tired, besieged.
"That boy has it bad, if you ask me," Savannah opined as she cleared away the tea things.
"They are so difficult today, Savannah," I said. "First Jean, with his absurd gossip and ridiculous suggestions, and now Jacques—If these people give me any trouble tonight I shall scream."
Savannah grunted. "They ain't all in love with you, like those other two." She picked up the tea tray. "Seems to me the only fellow you care 'bout ain't never come here yet, and that's eatin' away at you and makin' you mean."
"Oh, Savannah," I moaned, "not you, too!" I stood up and took in a deep breath. "Once and for all," I announced to the bobbing rose heads, "I do not care about him. I shall be witty and charming and gay tonight and forget that I ever heard his name. So there!"
Savannah was not convinced. She went into the house, muttering about certain fools who couldn't see what was right before their eyes.
My party that night was a great success. The players from the French repertory company were full of theatrical gossip and amusing stories about life on the stage, and I had invited several of the dashing bloods in town who made it clear that they wanted nothing more than to be asked to stay after the party ended. I finally managed to get the last of them out the door.
"At least they was walking," George, Savannah's brother who acted as my butler and general handyman, remarked. "Some nights I has to carry them out to their carriages."
"I tried to get them out a little earlier than usual, George," I told him. "God, I'm tired. You can leave all this clearing up until morning if you like. Thank you so much for your help."
"Any time, Ma'am. Good night to you now."
"Good night. If you see Savannah, tell her that she needn't bother to come up." I climbed the stairs to my room. Instead of exhilarating me, the wine and talk and laughter had left me feeling limp and exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into my bed and let my brain drift into nothingness.
A single candle was burning on my dressing table. I removed my jewels from my ears, neck and wrists and put them in their case. Then I took off my gown and draped it over a chair so that Savannah would know that it had to be cleaned and pressed before I wore it again. I kicked off my shoes thankfully and peeled down my stockings. I massaged my legs. I felt tired to my very bones. I brushed my hair out quickly and then walked to the bed, where Savannah had laid out a fresh nightgown.
A low voice came out of the shadows. "I'm glad you didn't ask me to your party. I find theater people so dull."
I froze. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
He was reclining on the lounge in the farthest corner from the light. I couldn't see his face. He stood up and stretched lazily. I whirled around and sat on the bed, and held the nightdress over my naked breasts.
"Surely you're not afraid of me, Elise."
"Garth!" My tiredness vanished. I was wide awake and angry. "How did you get in here? I shall call George at once!"
He laughed. "Come now, Elise. You promised me one visit, remember? But you didn't stipulate either the time I should call or the duration."
"The time is outrageous and the duration will be very brief, my friend," I said grimly. I slid the sheer gown over my head and stood up.
"Do you like your house?" he asked, ignoring my protestations. "I find it charming. What a fine-looking bed. I hope you haven't been lonely in my absence."
"Lonely!" I spat. "I have counted every day that I haven't seen you as a blessing. Why did you come here? Aren't the arms of that child Duplessis strong enough to hold you?"
"Ho! You've heard about la belle Marie! Yes, she is charming and beautiful. I have found her company most amusing."
"Then I suggest you return to her at once. You will find no amusement here."
"Elise," he said with mock sorrow, "you are so inhospitable. I am deeply disappointed in you. I have called on you as an old friend—"
"Bah!" I paced the floor angrily. "If you had any friendship for me at all you would have called at a more reasonable hour. I am tired, Garth, and I have had a really dreadful day. I want to go to bed—alone. Please get out of here. Oh, where have I put my pistols? I shall drive you out of here with a stick if I have to! You can't leave me alone, can you? You must take special delight in plaguing me because you know I hate you."
"Be careful, Elise." he cautioned. "If you get yourself all worked up you won't be able to sleep."
"Sleep! Sleep! Who can sleep with burglars and robbers in the room? Oh, I could spit, I am so furious." I walked right up to him and spat in his face. He calmly mopped his cheek with his handkerchief. The arrogant smile never left his lips for a moment. "Brigand! Fiend!" I raged. "Very well, Monsieur, you may sleep here tonight. The room is yours. Help yourself to anything you see—dresses, jewels, perfume—" I grabbed up a pillow and a light blanket. "I am going elsewhere."
He bounded after me and threw his arms around me before I could reach the door. "Why not wait until morning to kick me out of bed?" he asked.
"Let me go, Garth! I don't want you here. I don't want you at all. Can't you understand that?" I was practically crying with frustration.
"No, I can't understand it at all. You have brought me nothing but trouble from the first moment I set eyes on you, Hellcat, but I still want you." He gathered me roughly into his arms. "Can I help it if the Fates keep throwing us together?"
"Fates! One devil keeps throwing us together—you! Oh, dear God, how much more must I endure?" I dropped my head onto his chest with a despairing moan.
He laughed softly. "Don't think of it as enduring, Elise, but as enjoying." He stroked my hair tenderly. I trembled. "Come now, Elise, admit it. Aren't you the least bit glad to see me?"
"No," I muttered into his shirt front. I could hear his heart beating under my cheek. He felt so warm, so safe, so strong. "I despise you."
"Oh." He pushed me away gently. "I don't want to stay where I'm not wanted then." He walked towards the balcony. "Good night, Elise. Pleasant dreams."
"Come—come back here, you big bastard," I sputtered. "You might break your stupid neck!"
When Savannah came up with my breakfast coffee in the morning she brought two cups.
I frowned at her, but Garth grinned and said, "Morning, Savannah."
"Mornin', sir. Lovely day today. How you feelin' this mornin', sir?"
"Why don't you just ask him if he hurt himself climbing over the balcony last night?" I grumbled. Savannah giggled and hurried away. "I am surrounded by traitors, Judases!" I said. "But then even Judas didn't work for nothing. How much did this little adventure cost you?"
"That's my secret. Don't be too hard on them. I was very hard to resist."
"I'm sure you were," I said dryly. "I hope it was worth it?"
He folded his arms behind his head. "Well worth it, Elise, to have been able to help you baptize this bed."
I gasped. "Spies! Wretches! But don't think I've been waiting for you to call, because I haven't. I just don't go to bed with every man who wiggles his—eyebrows at me."
"Of course not. You've just been waiting for the right man to come along and here I am. I'm honored."
"I had very little choice in the matter, if you recall."
"Really?" He feigned concentration. "I seem to remember your calling me back as I was about to leave—"
"That doesn't matter," I said defensively. "You shouldn't have been here in the first place."
"Are you sorry I came?"
I looked at him. His fair hair was tousled from sleep. The sunl
ight that filtered through the blinds gleamed softly on his lean naked torso. His eyes were shining. I tossed my head. "You'll never get me to admit anything, Garth McClelland. Will you have some coffee?" I reached for the pot.
He intercepted my arm. "No. First things first, and I believe the best way to start the day is—"
"You really are—very hard—to resist."
He came again that night, and the night after that. I fought him, even when I was longing to throw myself in his arms, because I knew he would lose interest in me when he felt sure of me. But now I was still the quarry and he was the hunter, and he would stalk me until he had captured and tamed me.
One night he handed me a small velvet case. Inside lay an emerald and diamond ring, the most stunning piece of jewelry I had ever seen. The emerald was large and square cut, and when I held it up to the light I could see magical blue lights dancing in its mysterious depths. Even Lafitte's trove of magnificent objects contained nothing half so perfect.
I put the ring back in its case. "It's lovely." I tried to keep my voice casual. "What did you do, rob a pharaoh's tomb?"
"No. Aren't you going to try it on?"
I would have loved to see how it looked on my hand, but I swallowed and said, "No, I don't think so. I find emeralds rather overbearing and cold. Who is it for? Little Duplessis? She'll be charmed, I'm sure."
He lifted his brows. "Oh, she'd love it. But it's much too good for her. No, it's yours, Elise. Take it."
"How lovely of you, Garth," I said sweetly. "But I couldn't. Is it real?"
"Don't be a fool," he growled. "Of course it's real. Don't you want it? Are you mad or simply stupid?"
My eyes flashed. "Neither, I hope. But if I accept anything from you then I will be your mistress, don't you see?"
"No, I don't see. What have we been doing for the past three days, playing whist? If you're not my mistress what are you, my sister?"
"I am a woman of independent means and independent spirit," I said. "I have chosen to avail myself of the dubious pleasure of your company lately. So? I would not ask what that makes me, but what it makes you, my friend. You have served me very nicely indeed, but I think I might even be tiring of you—"
Savage Surrender Page 28
