Sweet Silken Bondage

by Bobbi Smith

  "Mirabelle Mosley," David replied.

  "What about her?" Clay asked his two companions, thinking the woman in the form-fitting, emerald satin gown looked positively luscious.

  "She's in the market for a husband, and it looks like tonight she's got her sights set on you," Lucien answered.

  "I'm not the marrying kind," he said firmly.

  "Convince Mirabelle, not me," David said.

  "Why hasn't one of you obliged her?" Clay was curious, since she was so pretty. "She's easy enough on the eyes."

  "She has money, too, but when I marry, I want it to be my idea. I'd like to be the one making the proposal," Lucien said with his usual male arrogance.

  "And I'm like you, Clay, I'm not the marrying kind either," David managed before he was forced to play the host and introduce them.

  Rose dashed into the sitting room that had been set aside for the ladies to take their rest. When she made out Emilie sitting in a wingchair, she groaned out loud, "You're just not going to believe it!"

  "Believe what, Rose?" Emilie asked, looking up from where she sat talking with Reina.

  Rose's expression suddenly became reserved when she realized that they were not alone. Emilie hurried to put her at ease, quickly making the introductions.

  "Oh, Rose, this is my cousin, Isabel. Isabel, this is Rose Jackson, a very dear friend."

  "Hello." The women exchanged greetings.

  "You can trust Isabel completely, Rose. I know I do. Now what is it that's got you so excited?"

  "It's Mirabelle... again," she began to explain, rolling her eyes heavenward.

  "Mirabelle?" Emilie had to chuckle. She and Rose had been following the other girl's search for a husband, and she could hardly wait to hear. "What's she up to this time?"

  "Well he came into the ballroom with Lucien and David and..."

  "He, who?"

  "I don't know his name, but he's just about the best looking man I've ever seen."

  "You don't know him?"

  "No. I've never set eyes on him before tonight, but I sure hope I see him again," Rose sighed, wishing that someday a man like that one would pay her court. Realizing suddenly that she was dreaming, she forced herself to continue, "Anyway, Mirabelle took one look at him and swore he was the one for her."

  "Oh, no, not again!"

  "Oh, yes, again!"

  "What did she do?"

  "I don't know for sure. When she started walking over to meet him, I left."

  Emilie knew the stranger had to be pretty special to get Mirabelle to go back on the vow she'd made a month ago never to openly pursue another man as long as she lived. Obviously, she'd changed her mind.

  "Mirabelle's a beautiful girl, and there's a lot of men who would enjoy her attentions."

  "I know, but why can't she wait for them to come after her? Why does she always have to go after them first? You'd think she'd learned her lesson by now."

  "I have to admit I'm curious about him. He must be something wonderful if she broke that solemn oath she made to us," Emilie mused.

  "He is - tall, dark and handsome with a great physique..." Rose affirmed.

  "I wonder where he's from..."

  "I don't know, but I bet by the time the party ends, Mirabelle will."

  "Shall we go get a look at him?"

  "Why not?" Reina agreed.

  Reina didn't know why, but as she followed Emilie and Rose downstairs, unbidden thoughts of Clay Cordell assailed her. Logically, she supposed he was on her mind because the man Rose had described sounded so much like him. The bounty hunter had been one very attractive man...

  Reina suddenly scolded herself for her silly romantic notions about Cordell. He'd been a hired gun with a job to do. The only thing he'd been interested in was finding Reina Alvarez and taking her home. Pushing his memory from her, she swept on down the staircase a few steps behind Emilie and Rose.

  Reina reached the second step from the bottom just as the music ended. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she paused there and glanced up into the ballroom just then. To her utter horror, across the distance, her eyes met and locked with a pair of chilling silver ones.

  Though he'd been giving the impression of having a wonderful time, Clay's mood had been strained as he'd danced with Mirabelle. She was a lovely young woman, but he had no time or interest in a flirtation of any kind. Only Reina Alvarez occupied his thoughts.... only Reina.

  Clay grew angry every time he thought of the terrible hardships Reina's spoiled little rich girl's antics had caused other people. He knew the woman he sought was nothing more than a selfserving witch, and it was going to do his heart good to turn her over to her father just as soon as possible.

  Since he'd become convinced that she might be there at the ball, Clay was filled with a renewed sense of urgency. He wanted this whole ordeal to be over. He wanted to confront his prey and head back to California with her as soon as possible. He had his plan of action ready to be set in motion. All he had to do was locate her.

  It happened then, just as the music ended and Clay was escorting Mirabelle from the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of gold out in the hall, and he looked up. There, standing several steps up from the bottom of the staircase, her luxurious dark hair piled up on top of her head in a stylish fashion, her shoulders bared in the exquisite golden gown, stood Sister Mary Regina...

  Clay went completely still, and only his wellhoned, rigid self-control kept him from revealing anything in that instant. Sister Mary Regina? At first, her name tumbled wildly through his thoughts in questioning disbelief, but he soon sobered. Sister Mary Regina was here-and she was dressed for the ball.

  Suddenly, with the memory of her voice echoing hauntingly through him, it all became perfectly clear. He'd been royally duped. He'd been made to look the fool. There was no Sister Mary Regina. He'd been right all along. Dear little Miss Alvarez had been on the stagecoach, just as he'd believed. Clay would have bet his last dollar right then that she was masquerading tonight as none other than the Delacroixs' cousin Isabel Nunez just in case her father had sent someone back here looking for her.

  Clay was livid, and he tensed in his outrage. He wondered how he could have been so stupid. He berated himself for being taken in by her disguise and for forgetting the ultimate truth he'd learned about women so long ago. There were no sweet, honest, innocent ones. There were no Sister Mary Reginas out there. They were all lying, deceitful bitches just like his mother! Viciously, he told himself he would never forget again.

  "Clay? Is something the matter?" Mirabelle asked sweetly. She was clinging to his arm, and though he showed no outward sign of being upset, the sudden tautening of his muscles beneath her hand had puzzled her.

  "Why, no, Mirabelle. There's nothing wrong," Clay lied. He was angry, but very excited at the same time. He realized, though, that he couldn't let Reina know that he'd recognized her. This was no place for a confrontation. He had to let her think that her earlier disguise had fooled him completely. It took a tremendous effort on his part, but Clay managed to keep his expression carefully schooled into one of just passing male appreciation.

  For the first time since Mirabelle had approached him, Clay was glad for her presence. She provided the perfect distraction as he fought to curb his turbulent emotions. With an ease born of seeming nonchalance, he turned away from Reina and back to Mirabelle. Giving her an engaging smile, he bent toward her with implied intimacy. "Why don't we have something to drink?"

  Yet as Clay led Mirabelle to the refreshment table, playing his role to the hilt, he was filled with anxiety. He wanted to look back and see if Reina was still there. He feared that she might have panicked and run, but he hoped and prayed she hadn't. The next few minutes would tell. If she'd disappeared, he knew he would have to go after her or risk losing her all over again. He remained on edge as he awaited the opportunity to find out.

  Reina was poised for flight as she'd watched Clay and waited. Dear Lord! It was Clay Cordel
l! Fear had clutched at her heart as she'd gone suddenly cold. She'd wanted to run, to flee from the terror that Clay Cordell represented, but his silver eyes had held her pinioned. She'd remained frozen in place, unable to move or speak and barely able to breathe. It had been a climactic moment as his gaze held hers, but then, as quickly as it had happened, it had been over. Clay had turned his back on her and moved off in the opposite direction across the ballroom with the lovely, blond woman holding possessively onto his arm and gazing up at him with open adoration.

  Reina began to tremble uncontrollably, and she clutched the banister for support as her knees threatened to buckle. Clay Cordell was there! She swallowed nervously as panic pounded through her, and she struggled not to lose control.

  A part of Reina wanted to rush from the ball and leave Louisiana, but her more logical side asserted itself. Yes, Clay Cordell was there, she told herself, but so what? He hadn 't recognized her! Surely, knowing how bulldoggedly determined he was to find her, if he'd recognized her either as herself or as Sister Mary Regina, he would have come at her right then. He would never, ever just have walked away.

  As blessed sanity reasserted itself, Reina's thundering heart slowed to a more normal pace. Hadn't she suspected that someone might come to Louisiana looking for her? Wasn't that precisely why she'd chosen to use the name Isabel Nunez? She had to relax.

  This wasn't like being on the stagecoach, wearing her nun's habit, being on guard every minute. She had faced her father's hired predator without the benefit of a disguise, and he hadn't known who she was. Her plan had worked out just as she'd hoped it would. Everything was going fine. Clay Cordell would take a look around, decide Reina Alvarez wasn't there and head back to California to tell her father.

  Reina wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as relief flooded through her. The heavy weight of the worry that she'd be found and dragged back home against her will was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. At last, she was truly safe. She had gotten away from Nathan Marlow, and she intended to stay away.

  Reina drew a steadying breath and then broke into a wide smile. Now, she could really enjoy the evening. She had something to celebrate. Feeling once more fully in control of her destiny, she descended lightly to the bottom of the staircase to join Emilie and Rose just inside the ballroom doorway.

  "Did you see him, Isabel?" Emilie asked excitedly.

  "I don't think so, which one is he?"

  "Over there," Rose pointed to where Clay was handing Mirabelle a cup of punch and laughing easily at something she said.

  Some uncomfortable emotion tugged at Reina as she watched Clay flirting with the pretty, young woman, but she gave what appeared to be a disinterested shrug. "Oh, him..."

  Reina knew she should look away for fear that Clay might glance up and catch her looking at him, but for some perverse reason she couldn't. It was almost as if she was mesmerized by his overwhelmingly masculine presence. It was hard for Reina to believe that the hard-riding gunslinger who'd saved her life a few weeks before was standing before her now, transformed into an aristocratic, debonair southern gentleman. She found herself wondering about Clay and trying to figure out how he'd managed to ingratiate himself so quickly into Louisiana society.

  "`Oh, him,' she says," Emilie mocked lightly to Rose. "Yes, him!"

  "Well, he is very attractive," Reina responded, seeming unconcerned, "but he's not my type."

  "What do you mean `he's not your type'?" Emilie gave her an exasperated look. "He's handsome, and he's obviously single or Mirabelle wouldn't be flirting with him. How could he not be your type or my type or Rose's type?"

  Reina was tempted to blurt out the truth, but she restrained herself. This was no time to confide in anybody. She was here in the middle of a ball, and things were fine. Why risk it? The fewer people who knew, the better.

  "You know I'm not really interested in men right now, Emilie. Besides, he looks far too intense for me." She shivered at her own words as she thought again of just how determined a man he really was, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing servant's tray.

  "All right, Reina, I believe you, but are you sure you don't even want an introduction?"

  That was the very last thing Reina wanted. She knew it would be far, far better not to tempt fate. Glad to see Lucien and David heading her way, she smiled benignly. "Maybe later." She downed the heady champagne quickly and wished for another.

  Within minutes, Reina was once again surrounded by her group of admirers, and she was glad for the distraction.

  "I guess with all those admirers, she really doesn't need to worry about one more," Emilie told Rose with a wry grin as they moved off to visit with some other friends.

  Reina, meanwhile, was chatting vivaciously with the men around her. All she had to do, she realized, was get through the next few hours without arousing any undue suspicions in Cordell. If she managed that, everything would work out perfectly.

  The very idea that she'd faced her worst nightmare and won left Reina feeling ebullient, and as she sipped more of the bubbling wine, she felt almost cocky. Her suitors flowered her with compliments and vied for her attention, and she responded brightly, laughing and flirting outrageously with them all. She felt unthreatened and happy for the first time in weeks.

  Clay bided his time, continuing to make conversation with Mirabelle, as he watched and waited for Reina to come into the ballroom. He knew if she didn't show up soon, he was gong to have to go looking for her, and that was something he hadn't wanted to do here tonight.

  Clay was greatly pleased and enormously relieved when a few minutes later Reina did enter the room. His ploy had worked! She was convinced that he hadn't recognized her! Clay wanted to laugh out loud as a feeling of power surged through him. He'd turned the tables on her. Now, he was the one holding the upper hand. Now, he was in control.

  Clay covertly watched as Reina trifled with the men around her. He could easily understand why the men flocked to her, for outwardly, she was a very beautiful woman. In reality though, he knew she was nothing but a loose-moraled, heartless chameleon of a woman, changing her personality at will to fit in any situation. His acceptance of her duplicity filled him with a terrible, bitter resolve, and it took all of his considerable will-power not to throw caution to the wind and stalk across the room, grab Reina and head straight back to California.

  The longer Clay kept watch over his elusive runaway the more furious he became. She might con sider herself a good enough actress to alter everyone else's perception of her, but he was wise to her now. She would never fool him again. He knew exactly what kind of woman she was.

  A sneer of disgust curved Clay's mouth. For just a split second, Clay's tight control on his emotions weakened, and all the cold, raw anger he was feeling reflected in his eyes.

  Mirabelle just happened to look up at him in that moment, and the flicker of emotion she saw there frightened her. "Clay? Are you sure there's not something troubling you?"

  At her words, Clay realized what he was doing, and he brought himself back under rigid control. Luckily, the music started up again, and he was given a reprieve from further conversation.

  "No, nothing wrong. Would you like to dance?" he invited quickly, wanting to forestall any other questions. At her acceptance, he guided her out onto the dance floor.

  Even as Clay squired Mirabelle around the ballroom, his thoughts were on Reina. Soon, it would all be over. Soon he would deliver her to her father, and Dev would be freed.

  Clay had the return trip to California all planned. He'd figured out the fastest, safest route back on his long, lonely trek to Louisiana. The only complication he had now was finding a way to get Reina alone. Once he'd accomplished that, it would be a simple matter to spirit her away without raising any immediate suspicions. However, getting her away from everybody else might prove tricky, especially if she suspected he might be setting a trap for her.

  Clay knew he had to join the group of idiots who were drooling all over themselves vyin
g for a kind word from Reina and then sweep her off her feet with his charm and good looks. Simple enough, he thought, but in the back of his mind the niggling fear troubled him that he wouldn't be able to get her undivided attention.

  Clay didn't like the idea of having to do it, but he realized he had no other choice. He had to act and act fast, and he had to be totally convincing. He would play the ardent lover until he could maneuver Reina alone. Then once he had her in his grasp, he would head for California.

  Clay knew it wasn't going to be easy for him to play the lovesick fool when all he felt for the woman was contempt, but since nothing about this job had been easy so far, so why should anything change? At least this time, he was no longer just chasing sifter blind leads. He had her now. It was just a matter of time.

  As soon as he was able without appearing rushed, Clay excused himself from a very disappointed Mirabelle and headed for the study. He was ready to begin his calculated pursuit, but he was in great need of one more stiff bourbon before he began. The study was relatively crowded with card players and onlookers when he entered: Clay didn't notice that his father was among them as he made his way to the liquor cabinet to help himself to the powerful liquor.

  "Clay?" Philip saw his son enter the room and knew something was wrong. "What is it? Have you found her?" There was a note of hope in Philip's voice.

  Clay had been lost so deep in thought that he was a bit startled to find his father suddenly there beside him.

  "Yes, I've found her," he snarled as he took a deep drink of his bourbon.

  Philip was taken aback by his vile mood. He'd expected him to be jubilant. Instead, he could feel the hostility emanating from him.

  "Clay?" Philip worried.

  He looked up, his icy, determined gaze meeting his father's questioning one. "I've got a job to do, and I'm going to do it."

  "Can I help you in any way?"

  "No. This is something I have to do alone" At his father's troubled expression, he added, "Well talk later."

  Philip watched in silence as Clay downed the rest of his drink, then refilled the glass and took it with him as he strode purposefully from the room.