The Creole Historical Romance 4-In-1 Bundle

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Sure I did. You don’t learn easily, Simone. Sometimes I don’t think you learn at all. You’ve got your little plans all put together, and everybody has to fit into them. But life’s not like that. You were wrong about Fleur. Why don’t you admit it?”

  Simone was furious. She put the cup down on the table next to her and lifted her hand to slap him, but the cold slowed her move-ments. Colin caught her wrist and held it. “You can’t slap everyone who offends you.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Do you really want me to?”

  “Yes! Take your hands off me!”

  Colin pulled her to her feet and held her by her forearms. “I don’t think so, Simone. I think you like it when I hold you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t like to be handled!”

  “When I kissed you, you didn’t fight much.”

  Simone didn’t answer. She was embarrassed when she saw that he had not forgotten her surrender to his embrace. She had many times wondered why she had given in to him. “I’m ashamed of what I did.”

  “Ashamed of what? Being a woman and feeling something for a man?”

  The room was close about them, and she could feel the strength of his hands pressing into her arms. She looked up and wanted to break away, but he was too strong—and she was not sure that she actually wanted to. “Let me go. You confuse me!”

  “I’m not a complicated man, Simone. Your life is complicated, and your emotions too. You keep them in a little box and trot them out on occasion, expecting them to behave exactly as you want. But love isn’t like that.”

  “Love? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about a man and a woman. You know I hated you once, but I don’t any more. You’re spoiled to the bone, but I feel some-thing for you that I’ve never felt for another woman.” He pulled her forward, and she cried out, “Let me go, Colin!”

  “I won’t do it.” He pulled her closer. He knew his hunger for Simone would never lessen—and would never be satisfied. There was a beauty in her that made him feel strong enough to take on the world. He knew it was foolish and that she was still often selfish, but that did not change what he felt. He knew she wanted to be touched, and he wanted to touch her. He lowered his head and put his lips against hers, and at first he felt resistance. Ignoring it, he held her close, and then her lips softened and he felt a tremulous warmth in them. He held her tightly and kissed her until finally he felt an eager-ness in her lips. It was like falling into some sort of gentle softness.

  Simone seemed to have lost all her power to think. She wanted to fight, to resist, but something in her would not permit it. She knew that they were both on the near edge of rashness, that he was strug-gling with his impulses. She knew that any gesture on her part would sway him, and it frightened her somehow. She lifted her arms to his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Please,” she whispered, “let me go, Colin!”

  Colin did not release her, however. Instead he said, “Men see beauty in different places. My tough luck is that I see it only in you, Simone.” He reached out and put his hands on her face. “Do you think you could ever learn to care for me?”

  Simone could not believe what she was hearing. “I—I don’t know.”

  Colin smiled. “Well, that’s good. You’re blunt—and mean enough to say so at once if you didn’t care at all for me.”

  “I am not mean!” she exclaimed.

  “No, not on the inside. Just on the outside. But inside you, Simone, there’s a loving, generous woman, beneath that veneer that society has put on you. And I’m going to make sure that woman gets out.”

  “I want to go home,” Simone whispered. She was frightened now, not of him but of herself. “Please, Colin, take me home!”

  “Of course.” He stepped back, moved to the door, and opened it, and she walked outside. The cold air hit her again, and as he took her to a carriage, neither of them spoke. He handed her in, followed her inside, and spoke to the driver. Colin was silent for several minutes, then said, “I’d like to take you out on the Gulf sometime when the sun’s shining and the water’s warm. Would you go?”

  Simone was shaken by what had taken place. “I think maybe,” she said finally, “I see what you mean about Fleur.”

  “She’s a sweet young girl, but it’s going to take a lot of care to make her into what you want. And I’m not sure that’s wise. Make sure she wants it.”

  Simone could not respond. As the horses moved along the streets, she knew that she would not forget that day. It was the second time he had kissed her, and both times all of her defenses had collapsed. What kind of a woman am I? I might have given in to him. The thought frightened her, and she pulled the cloak tighter about her and said no more.

  Fleur had put on her oldest clothes and gone out to the stables. She was grooming her mare, and when that was finished, she started mucking out the stalls. Robert walked in and stopped, shocked. “Miss, you shouldn’t do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “That ain’t no job for a lady.”

  “Oh, I’m no lady, Robert.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Fleur, but you’re mighty wrong about that.”

  “I can’t do none of the things fine ladies can do, Robert.” She leaned against the wall, holding the rake in her hand. “I go to that ball, and it was terrible. I couldn’t even talk right.”

  “Well, I’ve been around these so-called ladies quite a bit. Most of them ain’t got no more feeling than a snake. They don’t care for nobody but themselves.”

  “Well, what is a lady, you think?”

  “I don’t rightly know, Miss,” Robert said, shaking his head. “It’s got somethin’ to do with how you treat other people.”

  Just then Bayard appeared. “I’ve been looking for you, Fleur.”

  “I thought I’d come down and groom my horse.”

  “That’s good. Robert, Miss Fleur and I are going on a little ride.”

  “A ride? You mean around town?” Fleur asked with surprise.

  “No, I thought we’d go out to your place. I’ve had our cook pack a lunch. We can stay all day.”

  Bayard was surprised at the sudden life that came into the girl. Her eyes flashed, and she grabbed his arm. “Do you mean it? Can we really go?”

  “That’s what my plan is. Are you ready now?”

  “Oh yes, let’s go, Bayard!”

  Ever since the two had arrived at the cabin, Fleur had been very quiet. Bayard had watched her carefully and been quieter himself than was usual. He understood then how her staying at his home had been hard on her. She walked around the cabin, touching things, and finally went outside, braving the sharp bite of the wind. He followed her to the edge of the water. The swamp was still now, broken only when a fish came to the surface and sent concentric circles outward. Once a heron flew slowly overhead and settled somewhere deep in the bayou.

  “It’s good to be here, Bayard. Thank you for bringing me.” She turned to him, and at that moment he saw something in her eyes he could not identify. He had no idea what her life had been as far as men were concerned. He knew she was shy and suspected she knew nothing of romance. He reached out and took her hand and found it cold. He held it, feeling the roughness of her palm. Then he said what he had brought her to say. “Fleur, I’ve become very fond of you.”

  Startled, Fleur tried to read his face. “Fond of me?”

  “As a man gets fond of a woman.”

  “I don’t know about things like that,” she said quickly.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  His words shocked her, and she tried to pull her hand back, but he would not release it. “Nothing can come of that,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  She gave up her struggle and let him hold her hand. Her face was troubled. “I can’t live in the city, me, and you can’t live in the bayou.”

  Suddenly Bayard felt a great sense of need to protect the young woman. He dropped her hand and put his arm
around her. As she came against him, he was aware of the softness of her body and saw that her lips were trembling. “People change sometimes, for love. I can change, and so can you. I’ve never felt like this about any woman, Fleur.”

  Fleur was trembling. She did not know how to answer him, but in all truth he was like no man she had ever met. A sense of longing had been in her since she had saved his life, but it had been something she had kept very secret. Now she said, “Your family would never agree, even if I did.”

  “You won’t be married to my family. You would be marrying me.”

  “You want me to marry with you?”

  “Yes, I do.” He pulled her close and kissed her on the lips, then put his cheek next to hers. She seemed to resist for a moment, and then she put her head down against his chest.

  “I don’t know what to say. I am afraid.”

  “Don’t be afraid, Fleur,” Bayard said. “I’ve been afraid most of my life, but ever since I met you, there’s been something different. Part of it is you, part your faith in God, which has touched me.”

  Fleur felt tears come to her eyes. “I don’t know how to answer you.”

  “Come, let’s go back in the cabin. You’re cold.” He led her back inside, and when the door closed, she turned to face him. He stood waiting.

  Fleur said, “I think I love you, Bayard. I have never loved any man, so I’m not sure.”

  Bayard laughed. He took her hands and kissed them. “Well, be very sure,” he said. “Don’t be afraid of anything.”

  “There’s a man to see you, sir. He wouldn’t give his name.”

  Vernay looked up at the butler and asked, “What does he look like?”

  “He looks foreign somehow, Mr. Vernay.”

  “Bring him in, Dennis.”

  Vernay stood, and as soon as the man entered the room, he smiled. “Hello, Jean Paul.”

  “Hello, Claude.” The man who entered the room was not large. He was somewhat less than average height, but he had a neatness and trimness and strength in his body, and he wore a careful expression. The two men shook hands, and Vernay said, “Sit down. You must be hungry.”

  “No, I ate before I came.”

  “How long have you been in New Orleans?”

  “I just got in yesterday.”

  “Did anyone see you come?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’ll fix us a drink.” Vernay went over to the cabinet and poured two drinks. He brought them back and sat down and handed one to Jean Paul Compier. “You have a good trip?”

  “It was all right.”

  The two talked for a few moments, and finally Compier asked, “Why have you sent for me, Claude?”

  “I have a problem. I need some help.”

  Jean Paul Compier made a sour face. “I have a problem too.”

  “I guess yours is financial. I know you’ve been having difficulty.”

  “I gave up gambling, but it was too late. I have lost nearly every-thing.”

  “What about your idea of an academy to teach fencing? A fitness academy for young men.”

  “That’s what I want to do, but it takes money.” Compier had dark brown eyes, studious and calm. “What about this problem that you have?”

  Claude hesitated, then said, “I have to go back to tell you about it.” He described how he had wanted to marry Simone d’Or and been frustrated. He spoke of Armand, the former Marquis of Beaufort, and saw Compier’s gaze grow intense as he described the duel. “I didn’t mean to hit him in the back. He whirled around for some reason. It was an accident, but it was the worst thing I could have done. He was a popular man.”

  “He was a very fine musician. I admired his work greatly. But he’s dead.”

  “But the man who now bears the title is not.” Vernay went on to speak of how Colin Seymour had shamed him. “He’s a curse to me, Jean Paul. I want him finished.”

  Compier sat absolutely still. “I am not a murderer, Claude.”

  Claude Vernay did not answer immediately. “How bad do you want to start this new academy? Very bad indeed, I think—and you’ve wanted it for a long time.”

  “You know I have.”

  “Do this thing for me, and I will become your silent partner. I’ll put up all of the money. We’ll split the profits. You’re famous in France. Young men will flock to you.”

  “What is the man’s name? The man you want me to fight, it’s Lord Beaufort?”

  “That’s him. I despise the fellow.”

  Compier stared at the glass in his hand. His voice was soft as he said, “I have heard him sing several times. He is a great singer.”

  “It’s up to you, Jean Paul. I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. If you don’t want the job, I’ll pay your expenses back to France. I might add,” he said, “that Seymour is a master with a sword and pistol. It may not be as easy as you think.”

  “My friend François Morell, his teacher, has spoken of him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘I would bet no more than even money on you, Jean Paul, if you had to fight my pupil Colin. He can use either arm for swordplay.’”

  “That’s the truth. I’ve seen it for myself.” Claude Vernay knew that there was no point in arguing with Jean Paul Compier. The man had been famous for years as the best blade not only in France, but in Europe. His weakness had been gambling, and knowing this, Vernay thought him a likely ally.

  Compier looked at him bitterly. “Yes, I will do as you ask.”

  “You will? That’s good news.”

  “No. It’s bad news, Claude. I despise myself for what I have become. Nothing but a murderer! But I’m getting older, and this is my one chance.”

  “The challenge must not be connected with me. You must pro-voke him and leave me out of it.”

  “I will find a way, Claude—and may God have mercy on my soul!”

  Chapter twenty-two

  Simone smiled but shook her head, saying patiently, “The way to pro-nounce the word very sounds like this: ver—ree.”

  “Am I not say that, Simone?”

  “Not really. You usually leave off the ree and just say ver.”

  “Me, I am not know I say it like that. Veree. Is right?”

  “Exactly right.”

  “Then you tell me every time I say him wrong.”

  “Of course I will. You are learning so fast—and by the way, words are referred to by it, not him. I know in French every word has be mas-culine or feminine, but in English inanimate objects are just referred to as it.”

  “What is an—what you call it, ‘object’?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Read some more. It’ll all become clear to you after awhile.”

  Fleur began to read aloud again from the book that Simone had given her. It had become a daily practice for the two of them to go to Simone’s room and work on Fleur’s English and accent. When Fleur and Bayard returned from their trip to the cabin, the young woman had shown a devoted interest in becoming more of a lady who would fit into Bayard’s world. Simone was thrilled and threw herself into teaching. She was glad Fleur had made clear that she wanted these changes. Colin had been right. It would have been wrong to force city ways on her if she didn’t truly want to be part of it. She had started teaching Fleur to dance. She found out that Fleur had a natu-ral rhythm and learned very quickly. As a matter of fact, she learned everything very quickly.

  Finally she said, “You’re doing well. You are going to speak English much better than I speak French.”

  Fleur shook her head, and her black hair tumbled as she did so. “Me, I not think so.” She was quiet for a moment and finally said, “I have a question for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I not know how to ask it.”

  “Just ask it right out.”

  Fleur said, “Bayard has said that he—that he cares for me.”

  “I’m not surprised, and I’m very happy about it.”

  “
You would not mind having me in your family?”

  “Why, of course not. I can think of nothing that would please me more.”

  “Your parents, they might not find it so pleasing.”

  “Of course they would. They are very fond of you, Fleur.”

  “But I’m not the kind of woman that would fit in here.”

  “That’s what we’re doing now. You’re studying and working and making marvelous progress.”

  “It can never be,” Fleur said simply. “I can never be like you.”

  “You don’t need to be like me. You need to be like yourself. All of these other things, the speech and the dancing and the clothes, these are just surface issues. Who you are is much more important.” Simone took Fleur’s hand. She was surprised to hear herself saying this, for she was well aware that she had had different goals once. “Look, Fleur, if you love Bayard, and he loves you, you must not pass up the miracle.”

  “The miracle? What is that you mean?”

  Simone released her hand and stood and walked to the window. She stared outside. The weather was cold; it was now mid-December. She was surprised to see a robin hopping along, pecking at the hard ground. It was past the time for robins, and she wondered what the bird was doing there that time of the year. She turned then and said, “I think it’s always a miracle when two people find each other and love each other. Just think, Fleur, out of all the millions of people in the world, for a man and a woman to find each other out of all these: it is a miracle.”

  Fleur laughed. “I think you are right, but I do not know much about love. You must teach me, Simone.”

  Simone suddenly flushed. “I’m not the one to ask. I’m certainly no expert.”

  “But you have had many lovers.”

  “No, don’t say that. It’s not nice.”

  “It’s not nice? Why?”

  “Because ‘lovers’—well—that refers to two people who have become—um, intimate.”

  Fleur looked at her knowingly, “Ah, I understand. What are these men that come after you as I see them? They are not your lovers, what are they?”

  “Oh, I suppose suitors is the word.”

  “Suitors. I’m think a suitor was one that made suits.” Fleur spoke so earnestly, with her eyes so wide, that Simone was amused. She chuckled and said, “No, that’s another thing entirely.”