The Emerald Queen (A Vieux Carré Romance)

by Karen Jones Delk

  He would have been overjoyed by the couple’s conversation if he had been able to eavesdrop while they waltzed. Simone told Claude no more than she had told Eugène. He was still trying to find out her name when their dance ended and the girl was surrounded by a dozen admirers, each clamoring for a dance. Oblivious to the two sets of brown eyes following her around the floor, Simone danced and laughed and flirted.

  Finally both Fabrice and Alain headed toward her. Fabrice reached her first, nearly flinching under Alain’s cold stare as he claimed another dance with his cousin.

  “Will you please go home, Simone?” he began at once. “You’ve had your fun. And your charade is becoming more dangerous each moment. De Vallière just stalked off to the gaming room, his face as black as thunder.”

  “What have I to do with that?” She shrugged carelessly.

  “I’ll tell you what. His eyes have not left you all night. You’re playing with fire.”

  “So are you,” Simone answered, catching sight of Zaza Pellarin’s petulant young face. “Your intended is not pleased with your behavior either.”

  “She’s not my intended,” the young man muttered.

  “Perhaps not yet,” Simone said, “but she is the girl your father wants you to marry. This dance is nearly over. Go and ask her for the next.”

  “She is a child. Besides, you cannot expect me to dance with one girl and think of another,” Fabrice grumbled. But he released her just the same.

  “Non, that would be unchivalrous, and I would be forced to meet you under the Oaks,” Simone teased, preparing to walk away.

  “You know I would meet you anywhere, anytime you like,” the young Creole replied, suddenly serious.

  “As would most of the men in this ballroom,” Alain’s voice cut in. “I’ve been trying to convince her of that since last spring.”

  “Last spring?” Fabrice repeated dumbly.

  “Why, Monsieur de Vallière, where have you been?” Simone turned to Alain hastily, evading her cousin’s question. Startled by the murderous glare Alain directed at Fabrice, she stammered, “Wh-where is your mask?”

  “I must have left it in the gaming room. No matter. The next dance is mine, is it not?” His tone made it a statement.

  “‘Oui.” She stepped at once into the big Creole’s arms, hoping to divert his attention from her cousin. “Pardon, M’sieur Chauvin.”

  Alain’s face was grim, and he said nothing as he swept Simone around the dance floor. Finding a door open slightly to admit a breeze into the overcrowded ballroom, he waltzed her through it and into the chilly courtyard.

  “What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “I do not think we have anything to talk about.”

  “Spare me your game playing, ma petite. And don’t tell me you don’t play them. I’ve watched you all night, leading the young dandies on, flitting from partner to partner, flipping coins when you could not decide which young gallant to favor, using me--”

  “Using you?” Simone cried indignantly.

  “Oui, to make young Chauvin jealous.”

  She nearly laughed aloud. “I was under the impression you wanted to dance with me.”

  “Oui, if for no other reason than to get some answers from you. And I will have them.” Without warning, he reached over and untied the ribbons that held her mask in place. She grabbed for it as it dropped, but Alain captured her hand and said huskily, “You’re as beautiful as I remembered.”

  Feeling exposed, Simone pulled away from him. “I’m going in. I don’t think it wise to be alone in the dark with a ladies’ man.”

  “And just what makes you think I’m a ladies’ man?” he asked softly, stepping to block her escape.

  Remembering just in time that he had confirmed that fact to Jean-Paul, she quickly changed the subject. “Just like the first time we met, you do not care if I freeze,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her body to keep warm.

  “You didn’t freeze that night,” he reminded her. “Your blood ran hot, and you cannot deny it. I’m not going to attack you,” he growled when she stared up at him in alarm, her face bathed by the light from the ballroom. Taking off his jacket, he draped it over her bare shoulders and added gruffly, “I won’t let you freeze either.”

  Her rose-scented perfume wafted to him as she settled the jacket around her. “Merci,” she murmured, though she still eyed him warily.

  “Come here.” Placing a hand against the small of her back, Alain moved her to stand in the shelter of a wall, missing her grimace when his hand brushed a bruise he had inflicted on Jean-Paul earlier.

  Uncomfortably aware of the man’s nearness, Simone backed away at once but found herself in a corner. Not again, she thought desperately, casting around for an escape.

  She would never get past him unless she took him by surprise. In fencing, a feint could confuse your opponent and leave him open to an assault. Tonight a feint would be her deliverance from Alain.

  But when she looked up at him, towering over her, she felt a qualm at her plan. He would not be easy to trick. Perhaps if she could flirt with him, get him to let his guard down, she could flee. But how could she do that when she found it so difficult to think? His legs pressed against her skirt as his big body shielded her from the wind, and she could feel the warmth radiating from him. The winter wind ruffled his dark hair and carried his spicy fragrance to her.

  “Now, my love,” he murmured, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head, “you’re going to tell me everything there is to tell about you.”

  “Surely not everything,” she demurred, playing for time.

  “Yes, everything.”

  “But, monsieur, that could take a very long time.” She tilted her head to look up at him seductively and was disconcerted to find him braced on muscular arms, bending so his lips were close to hers.

  “The longer the better.” With tantalizing leisure, he planted light kisses at the corners of her mouth. “In fact,” he whispered against her lips, “I don’t care if it takes all night.”

  Now! Simone thought. Alain was not ready for any sudden moves. All she had to do was to duck under his braced arms and run. But then his mouth slanted across hers in fiery possession.

  Too late, she thought hazily as he straightened, his mouth never leaving hers, and slid one of his arms under the jacket to cinch her waist and draw her close. Pressed against him, she shared his heat, his breath, his heartbeat, and all thoughts of escape fled.

  With an unconscious whimper, she stirred against him, seeking instinctively to mold herself even closer to his hard length. Her hands skimmed his ribs as she slipped her arms around him, her fingers delicately tracing the hard muscles of his back.

  Locked in his embrace, Simone did not feel the cold or the dampening mist in the air. Only a cheer from inside roused her from her enthrallment.

  Alain drew back and smiled at her. “It is time for the unmasking, mon amour. Won’t you tell me your name?”

  Simone’s sleepy green eyes widened. Damn him. He had made her forget her intention to escape. She had lost her opportunity to feint. The only thing left to her was to retire, quickly. Shoving hard against his chest, she broke free and spun to disappear into the darkness.

  Wrathfully, he charged into the shadows behind her and was drawn up short by the soft snare of his jacket, hanging on a tree limb. Yanking it out of the way, he wadded it in his big hand and looked around, but he could not see the girl. He searched the dark courtyard, discerning, at last, the gate in the wall. He threw it open and stepped out onto the banquette, but the street was deserted. She was gone, and he still did not know her name.

  Muttering dire curses, he put on his jacket, irrationally spurred to greater fury because it smelled sweetly of her perfume. Then he stalked along rue Orleans into the night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The day after the ball, the Vieux Carré buzzed with gossip. Everyone seemed to know at lea
st one undisputed fact about the mysterious girl, and, at the salle, Claude and Eugène discussed her at length.

  “No one remembers seeing her before,” Eugène pondered with a frown.

  “If they had seen her, they would have remembered. Who could forget those glorious green eyes?” Claude asked dramatically, unaware those very eyes glared at him from the equipment room.

  “You never had a chance with her.” Eugène smirked.

  “As if you did, once de Vallière claimed her,” Claude retorted.

  “The lucky fellow. He disappeared into the courtyard with her, and they never returned,” Eugène said with a knowing smile.

  The cad, Simone fumed; Alain could have at least gone back inside to spare her reputation. Her cheeks burning, she picked up a soft cloth and set to work with special vigor, oiling the leather of the masks stored there. Maybe the same oil that kept the leather pliable would soften her hands.

  “Not that it matters,” she muttered under her breath. “I won’t be playing the lady again any time soon.” It was probably just as well, she thought. She had discovered last night that Alain was not the only one she could not trust. She could not even rely upon her own traitorous body.

  She had realized, too, that she couldn’t hide from him forever. But how could she face him? In the beginning, when she had met her guardian while wearing her feminine garb, she had enjoyed bearding the lion, but now she was tangled in the web of her own deception. And he was going to be furious when he found out.

  Simone shuddered involuntarily at the thought of his dark eyes flashing with anger. Any ire he had exhibited in the past would pale in comparison. She was beginning to wish she had never begun this course of action.

  She felt so confused. She had hated Alain since she was thirteen, but now . . . Her hands slowed in their activity as she recalled the feel of his lips on hers, the heat of his gaze. How could she surrender herself to his guardianship when he was obligated to find a husband for her?

  By early afternoon, Simone’s nerves were frayed, and Alain still had not appeared at the salle. Looking for projects to keep her busy, she took Serge’s sword to her room for polishing. There, she hid from Alain and from her own emotions.

  Alain marched into the house on rue Dauphine, a black velvet cloak over his arm.

  “Yours, I believe,” he spat, holding the garment out to Lisette when she turned to greet him.

  “How did you...” She swallowed the rest of her question when she saw the forbidding look on his face.

  “Is she here?” he demanded hoarsely.

  “No.”

  “But she was here though, last night after the ball, wasn’t she?”

  “Only for a moment,” Lisette admitted.

  “She was probably afraid I had followed her,” he muttered. “I thought about it, but I was too angry. I swear, Lise, that girl is driving me mad.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  Draping the cloak over the back of the settee, Alain sat down across from Lisette. “I claimed her for a dance the moment I saw her. When I had a chance, I took her into the courtyard and...” He trailed off uncomfortably.

  “And?” the woman prompted.

  “And before I knew it, the little fool had run away from me again,” he snapped.

  “Why do you suppose she would do a thing like that?” she asked mildly.

  “How the hell do I know?” Alain roared, jumping to his feet to prowl the room. Forcing himself to speak in a more moderate tone, he confessed, “All right, I kissed her.”

  “I see.” Lisette’s eyebrow rose in silent disapproval.

  “She kissed me, too,” he said defensively. “Then, with no warning, she ran. I was furious. In fact, I’m still angry. When I realized this morning that she had gone without a wrap, I went to the ballroom and explained that my sister had left her cloak there after the ball. The doorman gave me the only one in the cloak room.” He picked up the cape in his big hand and stared at it bleakly. “I took it to the modiste whose label was inside, and who do you suppose she told me had ordered it?”

  “I am sorry, Alain,” Lisette murmured.

  “I had hoped it would lead me to her. Instead, it leads back to you, here where I found her. You must help me. I have to see her.”

  “We’ve been over this before,” the woman said gently.

  “I’m not asking you to break your word.” He caught and held her eyes compellingly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. All I want is for you to arrange a meeting between us.”

  Lisette stared at her old friend in disbelief. The anguish on his face told her quite plainly he was in love. Alain de Vallière, in love. Astonishing.

  Did Simone love him, too? Lisette turned it over in her mind. They certainly struck sparks off each other. Perhaps if they could resolve their differences, they would find happiness. And if Alain wanted to marry Simone, as she suspected, the girl would have both his love and all the protection she would ever need from Marcel Baudin.

  “If I agree to arrange this meeting, do you promise not to behave like some rutting stallion?” she asked the man frankly.

  “Of course.” A frown knit his brows. “What do you take me for?”

  “You seem to have uncommon difficulty keeping our hands off her,” she reminded him mercilessly. “If you promise to treat her gently, I will have her here tonight so you can speak to her.”

  “I promise not to touch her,” he agreed. “I just want to talk to her.”

  “Bonsoir, chère,” Lisette greeted Simone when she let herself into the apartment from the garden. “I see Obadiah managed to get my message to you.”

  “Oui, but I’m not sure it is a good idea for me to be here.” Raking her cap from her head, Simone moved to stand in front of the fire. “I almost didn’t come, but I wanted to apologize for being so irresponsible. Did Jude get your cape back?”

  “It’s safe and sound in my wardrobe,” Lisette answered soothingly. “There’s a nice hot bath waiting, and I have a surprise for you.”

  When Simone saw another feminine dress spread upon the bed, she said regretfully, “You shouldn’t have bought this, Lisette. You know I cannot afford it until my father’s debts are paid.”

  “I can,” the madam announced, “and I wanted to buy it.”

  “You’re very sweet.” Simone turned a dazzling smile on her friend. “But if you stop and think, you’ll remember I have no place to wear lovely clothes. When I go out, I must wear my veil and widow’s weeds.”

  “Then you’ll wear this when you’re here,” Lisette said with an air of finality. “Now have your bath, ma petite. After our café, we’ll play dress-up.”

  Grinning in affectionate exasperation, Simone conceded to her dear friend’s wishes.

  Though she had been reluctant to stay, she was soon glad she had agreed. As she soaked in hot water, her tensions slipped away. Relaxed, she donned a robe and joined Lisette beside the fire.

  “You were in such a hurry last night,” Lisette said casually as she poured the coffee, “I didn’t get to hear anything about the ball. Did you have fun?”

  “Oui.” Putting aside the disturbing memory of Alain and his fiery kiss, Simone told her friend of her adventures at the masque, her green eyes dancing merrily.

  “Oh,” Lisette cried when the girl dropped a butter knife, “my old nurse used to tell me that if you drop a knife, you’ll receive a gentleman caller.”

  “I receive gentlemen every day.” Simone smiled wryly. “But even the ones who were eager to dance with me last night come only to practice their fencing with Jean-Paul.”

  “That wouldn’t be their excuse if they could see you now. You look so pretty, they would never recognize a certain boy of their acquaintance. I can hardly wait to see you in the dress. Do you really like it?”

  “Very much. You always choose well for me.”

  “I have something else, a small gift,” Lisette said, pulling a dainty lace cap from her pocket. “It’s the lat
est fashion from Paris. I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “I’ve seen these in the shop windows.” Simone hurried to the mirror to try it on. Lisette thought her excitement was so completely female it was hard to remember that she spent most of her time masquerading as a boy.

  “What was that noise?” Frowning, Lisette rose suddenly. “Did you hear a crash? I must see what it was. Why don’t you try on the dress while I am gone?”

  When Lisette closed the bedroom door, Simone slipped the dress over her head and went into the dressing room to stand before the full-length mirror. She had worked her way up the numerous pearl buttons from the hem of the gown almost to the low, square-cut décolletage when a light rap sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” she called. “What do you think?” she asked without looking around.

  “I think you’re beautiful,” a familiar male voice answered caressingly, “as I have from the first time I saw you.”

  Simone whirled in alarm, her fingers fumbling as she hastened to finish buttoning her bodice. Alain stood in the doorway to the parlor, as he had the night they had met. Although the length of the room was between them, she retreated a step, warning, “Don’t you come near me.”

  A pained expression on his face, he nodded. “I promise to stay away, if you promise to come into the parlor, where we can talk.”

  “I don’t... ” She changed her mind about arguing when he stirred restively. “Très bien, sir, but I hold you to your word.”

  “On my honor.” Bowing, he stepped back to permit her to pass.

  Simone preceded him into the parlor and sat on a chair beside the hearth, where she watched him warily. He took the chair opposite her, leaning forward so his elbows were propped on his powerful thighs. For a long, silent moment, he seemed to be memorizing a pattern in the Turkey carpet. At last, he said carefully, “First, mam’selle, I apologize if my behavior last night caused you alarm. I usually don’t act in so impetuous a manner.”

  “I see,” she said coldly, staring at a space somewhere over his shoulder. “I just bring out the worst in you?”