"I must insist that you tell me who you are," she commanded, "and why you are here!"
Slowly, with graceful strength, he crossed the kitchen's planked floor. In the firelight, Lisette could see that his hair was a dark chestnut color. It was not queued, but cut into ruffled layers that grew away from his face and curled negligently over his collar. There was a long fresh gash across one dark cheek. In spite of the dusty condition of his clothing, Lisette realized that the man beneath was quite clean. Tall, lean, and muscular, he smelled pleasantly of salt water, horses, and night air. To her surprise, the stranger reached out to catch her flour-smudged hand, lifting it to his lips for a kiss that startled her by its sensuousness.
"Nicholai Beauvisage, at your service, mademoiselle," he said with wry jauntiness.
Lisette was stunned as she tried to absorb this news. "Nicholai Beauvisage?" she echoed. "I—but—why, I don't believe you!"
"You don't?" Both eyebrows flew up. "I am devastated to hear you say so. And, now that we have that matter settled, I believe it is my turn to insist that you identify yourself."
Seated, Lisette felt at a disadvantage. The man towered over her, seeming to mock her somehow, so she wiped her hands on her apron and stood up. It was disconcerting to find herself only even with his wide shoulders, for Lisette was taller than most women.
"My name is Lisette Hahn."
"Hmmm... that seems to—" He broke off, snapping his fingers in amusement. "I have it! Hahn's CoffeeHouse. I was there tonight for a jug of ale and I was surprised to learn that I could get supper as well. The stew was like ambrosia after the food I ate at sea. Are you one of those Hahns?"
"As a matter of fact, I am. I am pleased that you enjoyed my stew, sir."
"Why the devil are you here?"
"As a favor to your alleged brother and sister-in-law. I made these tortes for this party tonight." When he moved to the window, gazing toward the house, Lisette persisted, "I still don't believe you are Nicholai, but if I did, I would want to know how you came to be here tonight."
He looked down at the lovely girl who stood at his shoulder. Moonlight streamed in through the window, shooting her long pale curls with silver lights. He was unaccustomed to seeing a female in public with her hair loose and flowing this way, and there was a direct, intelligent glint in these blue eyes that he found intriguing. She smelled of vanilla and butter, yet was utterly appealing: slender and graceful, with an exquisite neck and soft rose-tinted lips...
"It is quite simple, Lisette. The situation in France has become rather uncomfortable, so I decided the time was ripe for a visit home. My ship docked tonight. Since my house in town is closed up, I went to my parents' to see them and fetch the key, only to learn they had come here. So, I procured a horse and rode out. When I saw the light on back here I thought I might find some soap and water before venturing into the fray –" He gestured toward the lights, music, and laughter. "Where are Mrs. Forbes and Pierre and all the rest?"
"They've all gone to the main house. Dinner will be served momentarily, so they are busy with that. As you can see, I'm left with the last course—and I had better finish up before Pierre returns to fetch these."
Nicholai's eyes lit up at this. "Pierre is coming? Bon Dieu, it will be wonderful to see that old elf. Do you know, I've been gone ten years... and it suddenly seems a lifetime."
She regarded him from the corner of her eye as she assembled the last torte. He certainly did sound authentic. "I don't think you will find your family much changed. Have you been in touch?"
"Letters, yes—until a few months ago, when I was forced to leave my chateau for Paris. I've been duly informed of all the births, weddings... and Grandmere's death." He perched on the edge of the table and stared into the fire. As she spread orange icing, Lisette's eyes wandered over Nicholai Beauvisage. There was a chiseled strength about his profile that was very unlike the description Katya had given of her brother. Fun loving, easygoing, vulnerable—those were the adjectives people had used in reference to the younger Beauvisage brother. But if this was indeed Nicholai, it was obvious that the decade he had spent in France had carved out a very different man. The lines of his body were steely; muscles and tendons showed in his bronzed neck and were outlined beneath the clothes that concealed the rest of his body. All outward signs of a harder inner man, Lisette thought.
"You are staring, mademoiselle," Nicholai told her sardonically. "Do you find me odd looking?"
The last torte was done; Lisette put the wooden spoon into an empty bowl and gave him a wry smile. "Not at all, Mr. Beauvisage. I was thinking that, although you may not see many changes in your family, I'll wager that they will be surprised by the transformation you have undergone!"
Excerpt from
Caroline
The Author's Cut Edition
Beauvisage Novel #1
by
Cynthia Wright
***~~~***
Chapter 1
***~~~***
One could hardly imagine a more perfect October day, for the autumn of 1783 had painted the Connecticut landscape in her most glorious colors. The low mountains were a riot of flaming oranges, reds, and yellows which contrasted sharply with the clear azure of the sky. The air had a clean chill to it, and Alexandre Beauvisage, winding his way between the trees astride a handsome stallion, felt very good indeed. He had been brimming with a rich euphoria for over a month now—ever since the final Peace Treaty had been signed in Paris. The last eight years of war had been long but victory made all the bloodshed and tragedy seem worthwhile. The cost of freedom had been high, but that shining prize belonged to America at last.
Granted, it had been two years since the British had laid down their arms to General Washington at Yorktown. Only the most sporadic fighting had occurred since then, and the majority of the American soldiers had been able to go home to their families long ago.
Alec grimaced when he thought back over his own life during the past two years. All through the Revolutionary War, he had only occasionally played the part of soldier; his had been a unique role tailored especially to his talents and background. He had been a mixture of spy and scout, given the trickiest and usually the most dangerous assignments. After Yorktown, Alec had been able to return to his home and business at intervals, but just as he would settle back into a normal pattern of life his services would be needed again.
"We simply can't trust anyone else to carry off this plan without being detected, Beauvisage. You are a master!" the officer in charge would declare. Alec had to admit that despite the terrible aspects of war, there was a certain thrill in the role he played. He had roamed the swamps of South Carolina with Frances Marion, captained a sleek privateer, and drunk cognac with Washington and Lafayette on the banks of the Hudson. He had been required to put his ingenuity and intelligence to full use, and the constant danger had been stimulating. Perhaps the return to full-time everyday life would prove boring?
A bright patch of color beneath a tree at the side of the trail caught Alec's attention, rousing him from his reverie. Gently, he brought his horse, Ivan, to a stop and dismounted, walking back to investigate. It appeared to be a packet of garments drawn hastily together inside a piece of bottle-green silk. He hunkered down among the crisp leaves, preparing to open the bundle, when a soft moan rose from the trees to his left. His head came up, instantly alert, and then he was off as lightly as a cat in the direction of the noise. Soon he spotted its source—a small form lying at the foot of an oak tree about twenty-five feet away. Cautiously, Alec drew a pistol from his belt and moved forward. From a distance, he perceived the figure to be that of a young boy, clad in ill-fitting gray breeches, a loose white work smock, and a green tricorn hat that seemed to cover his entire head. Drawing alongside the boy, he replaced his pistol and knelt down beside the still form. His dark brows came together at the sight of two suspicious shapes outlined against the loose shirt. Tentatively, Alec placed a hand over one of the mounds, which proved beyond a doubt to
be a beautifully formed breast.
"What the hell?" he muttered in bewilderment while drawing the green hat off. Lustrous honey-colored hair spilled out over the rusty leaves and Alec let out a low whistle as he bent over the girl's face. She looked little more than eighteen, and for a moment he felt that he must be dreaming. The girl had the face of an angel. Her eyes were fringed by long lashes that brushed her creamy skin. Alec's gaze took in her tiny nose, and came to rest on appealing lips. Gently, he raised her head and cradled it in his arms. Almost instinctively, he tipped her chin up with his forefinger and covered her mouth with his own.
When he felt her lips move gently in response, he drew back, thinking, Who do you think you are, Beauvisage—a damned Prince Charming? Involuntarily, his mouth twisted in a smile of cynical amusement. What do you suppose I've got myself into this time? he wondered, and grinned in spite of himself.
* * *
The girl felt as if she was gliding down to earth from a great height, and seemed to touch ground with only the smallest jolt. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up into a most remarkable face. It was brown and lean, framed by shining raven-black hair drawn casually back and tied at the neck. The man wore a short beard, but it failed to disguise his charming half-smile or the contrast of his gleaming white teeth with tanned skin. Above a straight nose sparkled eyes of an amazing turquoise color which held her own almost against her will. As she became more fully conscious she realized that she felt no fear, although he held her in his arms and his muscles were hard against her cheek.
Alec, for his part, found himself looking into warm caramel-brown eyes flecked with gold. The girl was simply exquisite!
"M'lady, I would, be extremely gratified if you could attempt to explain your presence here. I must confess to a curiosity that grows stronger by the minute!"
As the girl struggled to sit up, Alec braced her with his arm. Gingerly, she raised her hand to touch what proved to be a large lump. Alec gently parted her glossy hair and looked closely at the swollen area. His forehead creased at the sight of the nasty bump and a patch of dried blood.
"Tell me now, what has happened here? What is your name and where do you come from?" His deep voice had grown sharp with concern.
The girl covered her eyes as though collecting her thoughts. Then, slowly, she drew her hand away, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.
"Oh, sir—I don't seem to be able to remember! I cannot recall a thing—not even my own name!"
* * *
Several minutes of questioning brought Alec no closer to the truth. He surmised that the girl had probably been riding and caught her head on a low-hanging branch. Perhaps something had frightened the horse, causing her to lose control. At any rate, the steed was gone, and Alec was left with an injured woman-child dressed in boys' clothing who had no memory of her past.
He had propped her up against a tree trunk and was pacing through the dry leaves. The girl was alternately investigating the contents of the green silk bundle and watching Alec stride to and fro. He moved with a natural grace and suppressed strength that were easy to admire. His fawn-colored breeches were close-fitting and showed the play of muscles in his lean thighs with each step he took. Leather boots, softly shining, rose to his knees, and a linen shirt split halfway down the front to reveal a hard brown chest.
Suddenly the girl's soft voice broke the rhythm of Alec's rustling stride through the leaves.
"Sir, you wouldn't be a pirate by chance, would you? Perhaps you're ashore to bury your treasure...?"
He threw back his head and laughed with pure delight.
"Why do you ask that, pray tell?"
"You look the way I suppose pirates must look. Quite swashbuckling and adventurous, really. Rather unscrupulous, too." She found him grinning at her and blushed. "I'm sorry about that last. It wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it?"
Alec strolled over to drop down beside her and clasped one soft hand between his strong ones.
"Think nothing of it. I admire your candor and I must confess that I laugh in part because you hit quite near the truth. My father was indeed a pirate—a French buccaneer of the first water. If the war had not intervened, perhaps I would have followed in his footsteps!" Alec's smile held a hint of mockery, but there was warmth in his eyes. They darkened, however, as the problem at hand returned to his thoughts. Gesturing at the clothes which lay on the piece of green silk, he asked:
"You don't see anything there that sparks your memory?" He had already been through the bundle himself, but found little that looked informative. There was another simple white smock, one of the loose shirts worn by Colonial men as part of their working attire. Also inside the bundle were a few items of well-made underclothing, a lacy fichu, and some dainty shoes. Lastly, there was a lovely gown, simple but pretty, the color of buttercups and trimmed in lace. Inside of it were wrapped a fine china hairbrush, two satin ribbons, and a bar of jasmine-scented soap.
The girl looked up at Alec and shook her head in bewilderment.
"I cannot place a thing. This is all so confusing—and frightening! Sir, what will you do with me?" Her brown eyes were wide and her tiny chin trembled. Alec reached out and gathered her into his arms. Although he was uncomfortably conscious of two ripe breasts pressing firmly against his chest, he managed to restrain himself so that he only stroked her hair in a brotherly fashion.
"What did you imagine I would do—leave you here alone in the woods? I may look unscrupulous, but I believe that you will find I have a definite streak of decency! You shall come with me back to my home and we'll find out who you are. In the meantime, perhaps you'll recover your memory."
Impulsively, she hugged him, and Alec could smell the sweetness of clover in her rich hair. Her voice was warm with excitement in his ear:
"You would do that for me? How shall I ever thank you?"
He could think of a few ways, but feared that none of them would meet with her approval. He could not resist smiling to himself as the girl loosened her grasp on him to look up and ask:
"Could you please tell me your name? And what shall mine be?"
"Ah, yes! Forgive me for neglecting to introduce myself. I am known as Alexandre Beauvisage, but you must call me Alec. As for your own name, I think it should be your choice."
A smile lit her face, revealing deep dimples. "What fun—being able to choose one's own name! And yours, sir, is wonderful and most fitting. 'Handsome face'!"
He colored beneath his beard and bit his lip. "Yes, unfortunately, that is the meaning. A constant source of embarrassment to me, I assure you."
"But why? Certainly it is perfect for you! It would only prove embarrassing if you were a homely man, I should think!"
Alec relaxed and was chuckling softly when a sudden realization struck him.
“You must have some education in the French language. You know, that's no small accomplishment for a female, especially one who has grown up during a time of war in a relatively undeveloped country. You must have come from a good family...." His voice trailed off and he frowned. "Why, I wonder, were you running away?"
"Do you think that is what I was doing?"
"My dear, that is the only reasonable conclusion I can draw from this rather inexpert disguise. Also, you were more than a little off the main road. To be precise, you were miles from the nearest house. I can't imagine what you were planning to do before you had this accident, and I feel certain that you were well on your way to being hopelessly lost." He paused. "I suspect that you were running away in great haste from someone or something. Your belongings were quickly assembled... and you were taking an escape route to which you could not have given much thought. As a matter of fact, you must have deliberately crossed over the Boston Post Road some miles back."
He glanced over at the girl next to him only to find her in perfect profile, staring dreamily into space. He lifted one honey-colored curl from her shoulder and teasingly flicked it across her tilted nose. His voice held a note of ironic amusem
ent.
"You do wonders for a man's ego. I can see that you hold my brilliant conversation in high esteem!"
"Oh—sir—please do not be offended!" Relief spread across her face at the sight of his flickering. "You are teasing me! I am glad you’re not angry, because I was daydreaming for a good reason. My name! To me it is so important, and I hope you'll approve of my choice." She moved closer to him and paused dramatically. "It is... Caroline. Don't you think that is the loveliest-sounding name?"
She spoke the syllables with such warmth that the name Caroline did indeed sound beautiful. His face softened as he regarded this girl who was smiling at him so radiantly in the midst of what should have been a terrible crisis for her. It occurred to him that most young ladies of his acquaintance would probably be carrying on quite hysterically if they were in Caroline's position. She was lost, unable to remember anything, and perhaps worst of all, left in the woods with only a hot-blooded rogue to rely on. Alec was just beginning to realize how truly different from other females this one was. Gently, he touched her soft cheek and smiled.
"I believe that you have chosen the most beautiful name in existence, little Caro."
Twilight gathered quickly, and Caroline did not notice the approaching darkness until she felt a chill in the air. She and Alec were both astride the black stallion, Ivan, who was patiently making his way through the trees. Caroline sat in front of Alec, who held her securely around her petite waist. His nearness unnerved her, and during all the hours they had been riding she had found it difficult to think—and heaven knew she had plenty to think about! She realized that the discomfort she felt wasn't because he repulsed her; instead, it seemed that all her senses were full of him. His arm was strong and her skin seemed to tingle beneath it. She would watch his brown hand holding the reins, and find herself fascinated by its deft movements. She was leaning into his broad chest and his chin brushed the top of her head. She thought he smelled wonderful.
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