Page 10 of Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies #3)

Ignoring the sudden pounding of her heart, Micaela took a prudent step away from him. "We shall t-t-talk and learn to know each other better," she said primly.

Since the only knowledge which interested Hugh at the moment was the Biblical kind, he barely hesitated before he swept her into his arms and began kissing her. "We have years and years in which to talk, sweetheart. I think our time would be better spent in retiring to our marriage bed and learning all the wonderful ways in which we can pleasure each other."

"N-n-now?" she stammered, her senses spinning from his ardent embrace. "During the day? S-s-should we not wait until evening?"

His face buried in the fragrant dark clouds of her hair, Hugh grimaced. In view of everything, it would be sensible to proceed slowly with his bride.

Firmly setting her tempting body away from him, he said, "Since what we do here is important only to us, we can do what we wish, when we wish it, but perhaps you are right—perhaps it is time that we learned more about each other." Seating himself at the small table, his long legs stretched out in front him and crossed at the ankles, he slanted her a sardonic glance. "So. What do you want to talk about?"

Uncertainty evident in her gaze, she sat down across the table from him. She bit her lip, racking her brain for a topic. "We could talk about your family," she said finally. "You know about mine, but I know nothing of yours other than Monsieur John Lancaster is your step-papa."

"There is not much to tell," Hugh replied, resigned to following her lead. "My father, Sidney Lancaster, died from injuries suffered when his horse bolted and took him over a bluff when I was four years old." His face softened. "He was much older than my mother, but she adored him. She always maintained that she had buried her heart with him. They had only been married five years, and she was just twenty-three years old when he died."

"Do you remember your papa at all?" Micaela asked, her dark eyes full of sympathy.

Hugh shook his head. "No, I was too young to have any clear memory of him. Mother claimed, however, that I was his very image."

"And Monsieur John Lancaster? When did your maman fall in love and marry him?"

A mocking expression lit his face. "They did not fall in love, sweetheart," he drawled. "Their marriage was a mutual business decision. John was a distant relative of my father's, a second or third cousin, removed a few times, I think. His property adjoined ours, and my father and John had undertaken several business ventures together prior to my father's death. Our interests were entwined and after several years, mother and John simply decided that it made good business sense for them to marry. He acquired a wife and a hostess; she got an excellent business manager and a father for her son." His mocking expression became more pronounced. "They neither one pretended it was anything other than convenient for both of them."

"I see," said Micaela, wondering sickly if he considered their marriage convenient. If Francois was right, her husband not only considered their union convenient, but expedient. But deciding not to tread on dangerous subjects, she asked, "And Monsieur John, was he a good step-papa to you?"

Hugh grinned. "The very best! Because of the situation, it has been John who has acted as my father for as far back as I can remember. I was elated when he and mother told me of their decision to marry." A reminiscent smile curved his mouth. "They were married the day after my eleventh birthday, and I felt every inch a man when I escorted my mother down the aisle and put her hand in John's. John formally adopted me a few hours later. It was a momentous day."

"And your maman ? You do not speak of her."

Hugh looked away. "She died," he said simply, "a little under three years after they were married. I was not yet fourteen."

"Oh, I am so sorry," Micaela said, her tender heart moved by the pain she glimpsed behind those blunt words.

"Well, at least you will have only one in-law to contend with," he said, "and one you will be meeting not too many more weeks in the future."

"You think he will come to New Orleans?" Micaela asked, frowning. "He never has in the past. Maman said he was here when the company was formed, but never once since—in spite of being the major owner of the company."

"Perhaps," Hugh said dryly, "he took an aversion to the place. Remember he has not been the major owner for a few years now... or have you forgotten? I am the one who now owns the major share."

Micaela's lips tightened. "How could I forget, when it is because of that fact that we are married?"

Hugh smiled mirthlessly. "I suppose I should be flattered that you are finally being honest about your motives for having arranged this union between us."

"I did not 'arrange' a thing, and that was not what I meant at all!" she snapped, appalled at how quickly the mood between them had changed. Hanging on to her fraying temper, she muttered, "I meant that if you were not the major owner, you would not have come to New Orleans." Defiantly her gaze met his. "We would never have met and certainly would never have been forced to marry each other." The openly mocking smile which curved his lips was her undoing. It was obvious he did not believe a word of what she had just said. Her eyes blazed, and she added furiously, "And I, for one, wish that I had never laid eyes on you!"

It was, Hugh decided as he watched her spring to her feet and stalk majestically to the far end of the room, going to be a long five days. His gaze fell upon their bed. A grin crossed his face. Then again, perhaps not.

But Hugh's prediction proved to be more accurate than not. It was a long five days. Not that he was bored, nor was it that Micaela denied him his conjugal rights—in fact that was the only time that there was not a simmering air of suspicion behind their every word. At night, Micaela came into his arms easily enough, her body docilely accepting his, but she was a passive participant in their lovemaking. Her soft, almost-smothered sighs and oh-so-subtle reactions to his caresses were the only outward signs that she did not find the entire act repugnant.

They did talk, and even laughed together upon occasion and inevitably grew more comfortable with each other. It was an unspoken rule between them not to speak of the reasons for their hasty marriage, or the events surrounding it, as well as the dangerous subject of the affairs of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree.

Hugh found much pleasure in making love to his wife, but he was increasingly frustrated that he could not seem to give her the same scalding release he experienced in her arms. And he would have been astonished at how very difficult his wife was finding it not to respond to his skilled lovemaking with an openly wanton delight. He'd be even more astonished to learn that by suppressing every urge to respond with delirious vigor to his caresses that she thought she was behaving in a manner which pleased him.

Micaela might not have known what to expect from the marriage bed, but after Lisette's and especially Tante Marie's strictures, she did know that it was her duty as a good, decent Creole wife merely to accept her husband's lovemaking—very little was required of her beyond passivity. It would have been unthinkable for her to cry aloud her pleasure, or even more inconceivable, boldly to touch her husband or freely caress him—or even, horror, invite his passion. Innocent as she had been, she had taken Tante Marie's words to heart, especially the part about a Creole husband who had wanted to divorce his bride, because he thought she had been too exuberant in expressing her joys of the marriage bed. Micaela and Hugh might have been forced by circumstances and convention to marry, but Micaela was determined to be a good wife to him, even if it meant submissively accepting him into her bed and body, when every nerve, every fiber of her being called out for her to greet their joinings with wanton abandon.

It was an uncomfortable situation for both of them; Hugh determined to bring her earthshaking ecstasy; Micaela equally determined not to give any indication of the wild, shuddering delight his touch aroused within her. Each grew to dread the marriage bed.

By the time the five days had passed, it would have been hard to guess which one of them was the most relieved. At least now they would not be forced to spend hour after hour in the sole company of their unknowing tormentor. Following custom, Micaela would still not be seen in public for another week or two, but they were no longer confined to their bedroom, and Hugh would be able to take up his normal activities. Micaela could discreetly visit their new home and begin overseeing its renovations.

On the sixth morning after their marriage, they joined Lisette and Jean at the breakfast table. Francois, they were informed, had eaten earlier and had left to visit with Alain, who was healing well and had returned to the city for the wedding. Facing her relatives, embarrassingly aware that they knew exactly what she and Hugh had been doing the past five nights, was not the ordeal that Micaela had feared it would be, and five minutes after being seated by her husband, she was smiling and talking to her mother as if she had been married for six years instead of six days.

Jean seemed to have accepted with good grace the fact that the Américain was now part of the family and he made an effort to be friendly. For perhaps the first time ever in their long relationship, Jean and Hugh held an amiable conversation; but there was no denying that the mood lightened considerably when Jean rose and took leave of the others.

Having finished his own meal, Hugh put down his cup of coffee, and asked Micaela, "Would you like to see the house this morning? I intend to go into the office this afternoon, but for now, my time is yours."

Micaela's eyes sparkled. "Oh, oui!" She glanced at Lisette. "Would you care to come with us, Maman?" Uncertainly, she threw a look at her husband. "That is, if you do not mind, H-h-hugh."

Hugh grinned. "I am your husband, petite, not an ogre." To Lisette, he said, "Would you join us, madame? It would please me and, of course, my wife."

Lisette happily accepted, and a few minutes later, the trio left the house and walked to old Monsieur Follet's house on Dumaine Street. As Hugh had mentioned, it was just a few doors down from Jasper's town house. Like most Creole houses, it was built right to the edge of the banquette. The second-story balcony, festooned with delicate iron grillwork, jutted out over the banquette.

Micaela was filled with both pride and excitement when she stepped inside the elegant house, knowing that this would be her New Orleans home. As they wandered about, investigating places and areas that had been private during their other visits to Monsieur Follet, Micaela and Lisette exclaimed over the many spacious rooms. The house was, not surprisingly, furnished in an old-fashioned manner, but Hugh had made it clear that his purse was open and that Micaela could dip into it freely. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure, Micaela had immediately begun to make a list of the furnishings that she intended to buy.

The servants were introduced to their new mistress and Micaela was pleased to recognize a few faces from home. Most were strangers to her, but she had no doubt that she would grow familiar with them in a short time.

The inspection done, Hugh escorted the ladies home. The day was growing hot and humid, and both ladies were happy to retire to a shady corner of the courtyard and sip lemonade. Hugh saw them settled and, finishing his own drink, rose to his feet.

"If I am to get any work done today, I am afraid that I must leave you ladies now."

Micaela was both disappointed and relieved that she would be spared his disturbing presence for several hours and said nothing. But Lisette made a face and said, "You Américains! All you think of is work—and you not married a week."

Hugh smiled. "Someone in the family has to work, madame —I have new demands on my purse these days and must make certain that it is full enough and stays full enough to please my wife."

A shadow entered Micaela's eyes. "I am certain that I will not act the spendthrift with your purse, monsieur," Micaela said stiffly. "And I do have money of my own—I did not come to you penniless."

"I am certain that is true," Hugh said, his gaze on her averted features. He had said the words in jest, but it appeared his bride had taken them to heart. Hugh sighed. He had much to learn of his new wife. Gently, he said, "Do not fear, sweetheart, it is a very deep purse. I would prefer you spend my money for major expenditures and keep yours for any personal trifles which catch your eye. Believe me when I say that you shall have whatever your heart desires."

"Will I?" she asked with sudden intensity, oblivious to her mother's presence. "Will I?"

Hugh picked up her slender hand and dropped a kiss on it. "I swear it," he promised gravely, his gray eyes fixed on hers.

Micaela flushed and dropped her gaze, conscious of the rapid beating of her heart. How does he do this to me, she wondered miserably. A look, a word, and my emotions are not my own, and I forget the circumstances of our marriage. He smiles at me, kisses me, and I instantly forget that Francois might have been right. This man I married may have connived to bring about our union for monetary reasons. Despite his kindnesses, and he has been kind, very, his interest is only in the shares of the family business which I brought to our marriage.

* * *

Micaela's shares in Galland, Lancaster and Dupree were being discussed at that very moment in the Husson town house. Alain, Francois, and Jean were seated in Alain's study, which overlooked the courtyard of the house. They were scattered comfortably about the room, a cup of coffee near each man's hand.

Alain's wound was healing swiftly, but because of the broken shoulder, he was still tightly bandaged, and his arm was carried in a black-silk sling, which gave him a romantic air. It would be at least another month before he could dispense with the sling, and he was looking forward to it—and the moment he could take his revenge on the Américain.

He had many scores to settle with Hugh Lancaster, especially Hugh's marriage to the woman Alain considered his own. Forgetting that the duel had been of his own making, he was convinced that the Américain had cleverly arranged it all to get him out of the way, while boldly stealing his bride-to-be. Alain conveniently forgot that Micaela had bluntly refused his offer of marriage and that the only way he had been going to be able to marry her was by an underhanded, nefarious trick. He was incensed that the Américain had been able to marry her by using that same method. Not given to deep thinking, the irony escaped him.

It was Francois who brought up the subject of Micaela's shares. His voice full of gloom, he muttered, "And to think that now instead of you, our friend, commanding those shares, it is the Américain. I tell you, I cannot bear it!"

"Do not be such a melodramatic young fool!" Jean said. "It is not so very bad, what has transpired." As both younger men turned disbelieving, furious eyes upon him, he said coolly, "I think you are forgetting that while he may be her husband, he does not actually own her shares. She does. Together they may own a larger share, but individually..."

"Are you trying to tell us that nothing has changed?" Francois demanded incredulously.

"Non," Alain said, "that is not what your uncle is saying." An ugly smile crossed his face. "Ah, I begin to see..." His eyes narrowed. "They own their shares individually, but they are joined, and if Monsieur Lancaster were to suffer an unfortunate accident, his shares would come to his young widow, oui! If fate is kind, sweet Micaela could end up owning the lion's share of the business."

"Mon Dieu!" Jean burst out, startled, "That is not what I meant at all. All I meant was that Micaela's loyalty would still be to us."

"But it is true, hein?" Alain asked softly. "That she would inherit his shares?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Jean admitted, his gaze moving thoughtfully from one young face to the other.

Alain smiled across at Francois. "You see, mon ami ? It arranges itself, oui?"

* * *

Hugh was whistling to himself when he entered the offices of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. Despite the difficulties in his marriage, he was feeling pleased about life in general. He was in his office not more than five minutes, however, before his good mood vanished. The report just given him by Monsieur Brisson was enough to ruin anybody's good mood..

Frowning, Hugh asked in a dangerous tone, "Do you mean to tell me that Le Lys Bleu arrived with a large shipment of goods for us three days ago and no one thought to tell me about it?"

Monsieur Brisson nearly wrung his hands in trepidation at the expression on Hugh's face. "But monsieur," he cried, greatly upset, "what could I do—you were just wedded!"

Hugh swore under his breath. "You could have," he ground out, "sent me a note, informing me of the fact."

"But you were just wed!" Monsieur Brisson burst out, aghast at such a notion.

"What the hell difference does that make? I told you that the moment a ship arrived I wanted to be notified."

Brushing past Monsieur Brisson, Hugh left his office. Striding to where Etienne Gras was seated at his desk, he demanded, "Do you have the original ship's inventory from Le Lys Bleu!"

A shuffle of papers on his desk brought it to light, and wordlessly Etienne handed the bulky document to Hugh. Hugh smothered a curse at the size of it. He had no doubt that this was the shipment he had been waiting for—and no doubt his thieves had been, too. It looked, he thought grimly, as he scanned the document, to have been an extensive shipment of goods—just the sort to tempt whoever was stealing from the company and that dolt Brisson had not notified him.

Spinning away, he strode back into his office and dismissed Brisson. Several minutes later, an expression, part disgust, part satisfaction upon his face, he sat back in his chair. Well, he had been right. Idly his fingers ran over the betraying pages of the invoice.

As with the other suspicious documents, concealed in the middle of the invoice were once again those pages of a subtly different quality. He stared at the invoice for several long moments, an unpleasant idea sliding through his mind.

The arrival dates of ships were never exact, but approximate dates were known from dispatches which were carried on ships that had sailed earlier and consequently arrived in New Orleans, days or even weeks ahead of the later-sailing ship. Information about the size and content of the expected cargo was usually included in the dispatch by their business associates. Hugh had been studying the various dispatches which had arrived over the weeks with an eye to spotting a shipment of the quantity carried by Le Lys Bleu. After the fact, he realized that nothing had crossed his desk which had even mentioned Le Lys Bleu, neither her expected arrival date, nor what she carried in her hold for Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. Interesting.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. So.

Had there been no dispatch sent? Or had it simply not arrived? Or had it arrived and not reached his hands?

His lips thinned. It would be unusual for the firms they did business with abroad not to have sent advance notice of a shipment, especially one of the size carried by Le Lys Bleu. It was possible, he admitted grimly, that the ship carrying the dispatch had been lost at sea—but he did not recall talk of any recent disappearances. The loss of a ship was not an uncommon occurrence, it was part of the cost of doing business, but news of such a disaster was normally common knowledge: he felt confident in dismissing that theory. He vaguely remembered that another ship from France had arrived the week before his marriage with a small shipment for the firm—but there had not been any dispatches. At least, he amended carefully, none that he had seen. But had there been one and had someone else gotten his hands on it?

Now, who in the firm would have been first to receive the newly arrived dispatch? Ah. Yes, of course. Etienne Gras normally handled that part of the business, just as young Etienne was usually the first one to inventory the newly arrived goods.

A few minutes later, in response to Hugh's request for his company, Etienne stood before Hugh's desk. His young face pale, he swallowed several times before he was finally able to answer Hugh's question.

"A d-d-dispatch, monsieur ? I am afraid, I do not know what you are talking about. I received nothing mentioning the approximate arrival date of the Le Lys Bleu." He tried a smile. "It is unusual, but it does happen occasionally that we have no advance warning of a shipment's arrival."

Hugh nodded and dismissed him, but he stared a long time at the door Etienne had shut behind him as he had departed. Now, was that young man nervous because he had been called before his employer? Or had there been another reason, such as guilty knowledge?

Jasper wandered in an hour later. Having first stopped by the Dupree house and learning of Hugh's whereabouts, he had immediately strolled to the office. After greetings had been exchanged, Hugh asked abruptly, "What do you know of Etienne Gras?"

Seated in a chair in front of Hugh's desk, his elegantly clad legs stretched out in front of him, Jasper looked surprised. "Young Gras?" At Hugh's nod, his expression became thoughtful. "Do you suspect him?"

Hugh made a face. "Yes and no. I just want to know more about him. His family, friends, and habits will do nicely to start."

"You do not ask much, mon ami," Jasper replied with a grin. His face sobered almost immediately and he said slowly, "The family is well respected. Not wealthy, you understand, not of the crème de la crème. He is working for you, after all. But they are accepted everywhere, and most Creole papas would not be too displeased by a union with one of their daughters and a Gras son or vice versa." Jasper frowned. "As for his friends and habits, I am afraid I cannot help you there. Francois is more of an age with young Gras. Now that I think of it, I believe that I have seen them together about town now and then."

"Nothing else?"

Jasper leaned back in the chair, staring down at his glossy black boots, racking his brain for more information. "There is something else," he said eventually. His eyes met Hugh's. "A few years ago, I remember hearing talk that he owed Husson some money. A gaming debt."

A look of satisfaction crossed Hugh's face.

"Husson!" he said with relish. "Is it not strange how often his name intrudes into our discussions?"

"I would not be too pleased, mon ami." Jasper cautioned. "New Orleans is, after all, a close-knit community. Husson is a prominent member of Creole society. His gambling connections are not unknown, and if young Gras likes to gamble, which he does as I recall, it is not surprising that he has owed Husson money from time to time. Many people have—you will end up chasing your tail if you suspect everyone who has ever owed Husson a gambling debt." He grinned. "Do not forget that even old Christophe Galland owed him, which is why we presently have Husson as a partner, oui?" Hugh grimaced, and Jasper laughed. "And do not forget, that I, too, won my shares from Christophe. Does that make you suspect me also?"

Hugh snorted. "If you were fleecing the firm, mon ami, you would have left no traces."

Jasper's eyes danced. "Merci beaucoup —I think."

"But I still like the connection between Husson and Gras. Could you do a little discreet snooping and see what reveals itself?"

"To please you, oui... but do not expect very much."

Business out of the way, Jasper cajoled Hugh into joining him in a visit to one of the coffeehouses—which had been the entire purpose of his visit. It was apparent, Hugh thought with amusement, that his friend was determined to woo him away from the nasty habit of actually working and was slyly trying to turn him into an indolent Creole gentleman of leisure. For today he would allow his friend to think he was succeeding.

* * *

The following week saw the removal of the newly-weds from the Dupree town house into their own home.

Overnight the Follet house had become the Lancaster house, but the changes went much deeper than merely a name change. The house had been newly repainted inside and out; new airy summer hangings now ornamented the windows; fresh grass matting covered the cypress floors; and several pieces of mahogany furniture had been added to complement the furniture left behind by Monsieur Follet. It took Hugh and Micaela several days to settle fully into their new home, but by the third week of June, they were each feeling optimistic about the future and the establishment of their own home.

But they were not going to have much time to enjoy the residence they now shared—the fever season was approaching and Hugh had informed Micaela that he was removing her to the country until October or November, when the danger had subsided. They had just finished their evening meal and were enjoying a final cup of coffee in the dining room, when Hugh had mentioned leaving.

"But where are we to stay? With Maman?" she asked, her fine eyes wide and puzzled.

Hugh shook his head and smiled. "No—although until a week or so ago, that was a possibility."

"Then?"

"An excellent property, some distance north of the city, was recently brought to my attention by Rene L'Aramy. We looked at it last Wednesday, and the owner and I finally struck a bargain today."

"I see," Micaela said slowly. "You did not think I would care to know of this before you bought it? Or that I might have preferred to live nearer Maman?"

Hugh frowned. He was used to arranging events to suit himself, with no one gainsaying his plans. To his credit, he had debated telling Micaela of the possible purchase, he had even considered taking her to view it. But the owner, a handsome Creole widow, Madame Justine, had vacillated on several points, all the while flirting outrageously with Rene, and Hugh had not been positive that the purchase would actually take place. His motives had been pure. He had not wanted his bride to be disappointed if the widow could not be brought to terms. In fact, he had planned the purchase as a surprise—he'd had no doubts, until this very moment, that Micaela would find the place as attractive and eminently suitable as he had. From the expression on her face, he realized uneasily, that he had definitely put a foot wrong. Marriage, he admitted wryly, was not quite the easy affair he had assumed it to be.

"You must forgive me," he said. "Having to consider another's sensibilities is new to me."

Micaela felt a mortifying blush sweep up her face. Her wretched, wretched tongue! Would she ever learn to control it? How shrewish she had been. How had she dared to question him? No self-respecting Creole wife would have done such a thing. Her gaze dropped, and she muttered, "It does not matter. I am sure that I shall be satisfied with the place."

Seeing her discomfort, never guessing its cause, Hugh got up from the table and stopped beside her. Gently lifting her chin with one finger, he stared down into her lovely face. "If you do not like the Justine property," he said quietly, "we shall sell it and buy another." Drowning in the dark beauty of her gaze, he was amazed to hear himself murmuring, "I want you to be happy, Micaela. We may have started out badly, but I intend to be a good husband to you, believe that, please."

Her throat constricted by the rush of emotion his simple words gave her, Micaela slowly nodded. He was a good husband, she thought fiercely. He was a handsome, exciting lover, as well as a generous, wealthy man who treated her with consideration and kindness. Many Creole wives would have envied her. And if there had been no love between them when they married, what did it matter? Few Creole marriages were based on love; fortune and social ascension were behind the majority. By those standards, her own marriage was hugely successful. So why did she wish so desperately that she could forget Alice Summerfield's confident assertion that Hugh loved her, why could she not forget the fact that, whatever the reasons behind it, they had been forced to marry? And why, since love had nothing to do with their marriage, did her heart ache with such painful intensity?