by Conn, Phoebe
Dominique tore away the ribbon confining his curls and leaned into his glorious kisses until her whole body ached for more. She pushed him down on the blanket then and
leaned over him. She raked his hair off his forehead, then kissed his well-shaped brows, dark lashes, and ears before dipping her tongue into his mouth. His taste was sweet, and she slid her hand over his chest to pinch his leathery nipple. She felt him flinch and having discovered his flesh was as sensitive as hers, she did it again, harder. She longed to know his body as well as her own, and when he began peeling off her clothes in great grabbing handfuls she arched her back to help him and laughed again with a deep, throaty giggle.
Etienne had never expected Dominique's sorrow to erupt into passion, but once it had, he was beyond caring who might come along the path and find them in each other's arms. He craved her with an aching need that drove him past reason to the shores of rapture and he wanted all that she could possibly give. He splayed his fingers out over her ribs, then cupped her breasts before again pressing his face close to suckle.
Moving lower, he flicked his tongue into her navel, then trailed kisses across the seductive hollow of her belly. He nuzzled the triangle of pale blond curls and, lost in her lithe body's own delectable fragrance, wrapped his arm around her leg and sank lower to drink in her taste. He split her open with the tip of his tongue, then tickled the slippery bud at the top of her cleft to inflame her desire until it matched his own.
The enchanting sensations Etienne coaxed forth were no longer unexpected even if the method he had chosen was, but drowning in his exotic affection, Dominique was more exhilarated than shocked. He moved with such natural grace, his gestures so deeply adoring, that she doubted she would ever have enough of his abundant affection. Lured past any remaining defenses, her surrender was again spontaneous, and this time, complete.
Etienne moved up over Dominique then, and hastily shoving his buckskins aside, he began to tease her with the
whole length of his swollen shaft. He tilted her hips, then yanked the blanket aside to leave no trace of their first coupling. Adjusting her body to his, he probed, gently stroking her, then dipping into her with brief, shallow thrusts. She was so wet he slid into her easily but her body still held back, and desperate to sink to her depths, he lunged forward and swallowed her cry as he felt her tender flesh tear.
He lay still, and knowing he had taken what no other man ever could take again, he rose up slightly to look down at her. His breathing was ragged, but hers was no more controlled, and when she smiled, the love that filled her eyes warmed him clear to his soul. He gave her a bruising kiss and began to move. Each time he neared his limit he slowed to let the urgency subside until he could control it again, and again.
She was so tight and hot, he longed to stay hard forever, but finally she rolled her hips to pull him down into her and he was lost. He clung to her as his climax surged forth and her blissful inner contractions caressed him until he had nothing more to give. Exhausted by the sheer splendor of loving her, he moved aside, grabbed the blanket to cover them, and held her so tight it took him a moment to realize she probably could not breathe. He relaxed his grasp, but only slightly, and kissed her temple.
"I have never told another woman that I loved her, but I love you, Dominique," he swore with convincing ardor. "Je vous aime. Voulez-vous m 'epouser? "
Dominique lay snuggled in his arms, too sated by pleasure to do more than respond with a grateful sigh. She was going to have to tell her mother—after the wedding, of course—that her description of making love provided barely a hint of the joy she had found in Etienne's arms. She had never been more certain of anything in her life, but love him she did.
Etienne hoped that he had interpreted Dominique's re-
sponse correctly as an affirmative, but he could readily understand why she could not speak. Had he not felt compelled to declare his love, he could not have drawn the breath to speak, either. He did not know if he wanted to shout or cry, so he simply held her and wished that he did not ever have to let her go.
"I would not mind dying now, if I could take you to heaven with me, Etienne."
Her breath washed over his chest with a seductive heat, and captivated anew by the incredibly responsive young woman, Etienne rose on his elbow. He combed her tangled curls out of her eyes and sighed with the first genuine contentment he had ever known. "Do not talk to me of death, when life has taken so long to finally become this good."
Intrigued by the glint of tears in his eyes, Dominique reached up to caress his cheek. "I tried so hard to drive you away. I'm glad you were too stubborn to go."
Etienne kissed her palm, then laced his fingers in hers. "I do love you, cherie. You must never doubt that."
With his body pressed against the length of hers, she would have been warm even without the blanket, but his comment filled her with a sudden chill. "Why would I doubt it?" she asked. "Have you forgotten to tell me something? Oh Etienne, you don't have a wife and children in France, do you?"
Etienne laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought, but he did have another confession he knew he ought to make. At the same time, he was loath to do it, and risk losing her. Torn between the honesty he knew true love required and the discretion that would protect him, he chose to remain silent and leaned over to kiss her. "You will be my first and only wife, and I have never fathered a child."
"You are hiding something, though. I can feel it." Frightened, Dominique sat up and began gathering her scattered lingerie. "I know so little about you, Etienne. I want you to
tell me everything this afternoon. Will you promise me that?"
"I will promise you anything." He leaned over to lick the pale crest of her breast and it hardened beneath his lips. As he sat up, he saw the marks of his teeth on her pale flesh and was horrified. "You are so fair—I did not realize loving bites would hurt you."
"You haven't hurt me," she assured him, "but I don't want mere promises, Etienne. If you promise me something, you must follow through."
"Yes. I understand."
He looked away as he reached for his buckskins and again Dominique sensed something was very wrong and was frightened. The first time he had kissed her, her response had been fright, and she had been confused and ashamed. Now she wondered if it hadn't been a premonition she ought not to have ignored. He went down to the river to wash; still unsettled when he returned, she also took advantage of the water to cleanse away the evidence of their passion. She waited until they were both fully dressed, then faced him squarely.
She had so many images of him in her mind: his startled expression when she had run into the parlor to greet Beau; the way his thick, black curls caught the sun. She remembered his defiant stance when he had raised the rifle to his shoulder in the shooting match with Falcon, and how exhausted he had been when he had brought her cousin home from King's Mountain. Each glimpse of him was precious now, but even with the sweetness of his touch still lingering on her skin, she knew something was wrong.
She had to swallow hard to find her voice. "I do love you," she swore, "but if there's something you haven't told me that you should, please do it now."
Her eyes were a more beautiful blue than the sky, and having won her heart, Etienne would not risk losing such a prize. "My life has not been easy, but I have committed no
crimes. If I return to France, I will not be arrested on the docks. I have never seduced another man's wife, nor cheated anyone."
Dominique nodded thoughtfully as Etienne recited an impressive litany of offenses he had not been a party to, but her suspicions remained unresolved. Then she began to fear she was merely attempting to find a new way to discourage him, and was ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry. I know you're a fine man, and I didn't mean to offend you. It's only that love is so new to me, and I feel unsure of myself."
Relieved beyond measure that she had ceased interrogating him, Etienne pulled her into his arms. "You need never be unsure of me," he vowed. "I love you wit
h all my heart and soul. Now let's have something to eat so we can say we really did have a picnic, and I will tell you more about myself."
He pulled a bottle of wine from the basket, and two pewter mugs. "I sailed to America with Lafayette on La Vic-toire, but I was only a sailor, not one of his officers. I wanted to fight with him, though, and did. When he was given a brigade of Virginians to command, I liked them and thought Virginia must be a fine place to live." He stopped to smile at her, adding, "And it is. When Lafayette returned to France, I stayed here. I sailed with a couple of privateers, and met Beau in Martinique. WTien he asked if I would like to come to Virginia, I did."
Dominique took the mug he handed her, and while she was surprised the basket contained wine rather than cider, she took a long sip. "Were you with Lafayette at Valley Forge?" she asked.
"Oui. I was with him when he chased off the Hessians."
He was smiling as though it had been a great adventure. She remembered reading about it in the Gazette. "Is that what you remember about Valley Forge, not the cold, or being hungry?"
Etienne unwrapped a platter of ham. "It is always better
to remember the good things, Dominique, rather than the bad."
Dominique considered that for a moment, and then nodded. "Do you really want to go back to France?" she asked in a fearful whisper.
She had not bothered to replace her cap, and her curls framed her face with an innocent charm that delighted him. "I will make you a promise right now, Dominique. I will not go home to France without you." He winked at her and raised his mug in a silent toast.
"I would like to see France," Dominique assured him, "but even with you, I'm afraid I would miss my family terribly. Don't you miss yours?" Etienne frowned slightly, and when he began to rummage through the basket for the bread and cheese, Dominique had her answer.
"I know not all families get along as well as ours does," she said. "Were your parents opposed to your coming to America?"
"No." Etienne ripped off a hunk of bread from the loaf, then broke it in half to share with Dominique. "My father despises the British and wished only that he had a dozen sons to send to fight them."
"Yes. I don't imagine any of the Acadians admire the British, but when my mother fell in love with my father, she forgave him for being English—although I do believe it took a long while for the good people of Williamsburg to forgive her for being French. Now that Lafayette is regarded as a great hero, being French is no longer a problem."
"I am so relieved to hear you say that."
Dominique laughed, and their conversation drifted off into teasing banter. They did not make love again, although they wanted to, but now allowing their passion for each other free rein in the open countryside struck them as too dangerous. As they gathered up the remains of the picnic and replaced them in the basket, Dominique rested her hand lightly on Etienne's sleeve.
"You've asked me to marry you, and I've said yes, but this is Belle's time to be a bride and I don't want to take anything away from her. Will you please wait until after she and Falcon are wed to speak to my father?"
"On one condition," Etienne stated firmly.
Dominique's eyes widened in surprise. "And what might that be, monsieur?"
That afternoon, Etienne had finally seen the charm that had captivated so many other young men, but he had had so much more than any of them, and that fact made him bold. "That I do not have to wait that long to make love to you again."
Dominique leaned close to kiss him. "Do you think I could bear to ask that of you?"
Etienne shrugged. "Well, I hope not."
"We will have to be discreet, and because my bedroom is right above my parents, we dare not use it tonight."
"And the guest room?"
"You're right above my aunt and uncle, and Hunter can hear a leaf fall in the forest, so we'd never fool him if we used your bed. We'll have to sneak out of the house, or will that be too awful?"
"It would only be awful if you did not want to meet me."
He picked up the basket and Dominique slipped her arm through his as they started back down the path. "I can not even imagine that happening."
Etienne could, but he kept still.
Arielle was seated at the windowseat in the parlor and when she saw Dominique and Etienne coming up the path arm in arm, she called to her husband. "Byron, come here, please. I want you to see this. I was hoping Etienne would lift Dominique's spirits, but he seems to have done much better than that."
Alarmed, Byron walked over to the window. He watched
his daughter dip her head and then look up at the young man in one of her classic coquettish poses. He uttered a low moan. "He looks far too much like his father to suit me," he murmured darkly. "What if his turning up here wasn't merely coincidence?"
Arielle took her husband's hand. "What are you thinking?"
Etienne and Dominique paused, and unaware that they were being observed, exchanged a lengthy kiss that sent Byron's temper up a notch. "I think that even after more than twenty years, if Gaetan and I were to see each other on the street, he would try to kill me again. What if he sent Etienne to harm us in whatever way he could?"
"There is nothing hostile about him, Byron. He has not given us any cause to doubt his sincerity, and we can not condemn him just because he is Gaetan's son."
"What if he is diabolically clever?"
Arielle closed her eyes. Her husband was not given to making wild accusations and in this case, she readily understood his fears. "What are you going to do?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
Byron bent down to kiss her, and then turned away. "I'm going to invite him in for tea and ask him just what his intentions are."
"And you think he'll blurt them out?"
"No. I think he'll lie, and both of us will see it. If that happens, I don't care how good a friend he's been to Falcon, he'll be off the plantation within the hour."
Arielle nodded, but she could not bear to think how badly Dominique would be hurt if Etienne, like Sean O'Keefe, had only come there to betray them.
Byron made a few comments about the upcoming wedding and then spoke directly to Etienne. "The night you arrived with Beau, we spoke only briefly about the possibility of our having known your father in Grand Pre. Now that we know each other better, I'd like you to tell us what he said about Arielle and me."
Confused by her father's question, Dominique turned to fetienne and watched the color drain from his face while he struggled not to drop the fragile porcelain cup. "You told me your father was from Acadia," she prompted him. "Why didn't you tell me he was also from Grand Pre?"
Etienne set his cup on the table by his side and sat forward. He felt as though Byron had just dropped a noose around his neck, but he strove to remain calm. "I told you that my father did not speak of Acadia," he replied.
"I know that's what you told us," Byron shot right back at him, "but we'd prefer the truth this time."
Dominique had no idea what was going on, but she did not appreciate the tone her father had taken with Etienne. "Father, please. You're being very rude."
Byron responded as though he were shocked by her comment. "Am I? I suggest you listen carefully and then decide whether or not I've forgotten my manners. I was speaking to you, Etienne. Shall I repeat my question?"
Feeling at a terrible disadvantage, Etienne rose to his feet and took a step away from Dominique. "My father is an angry and bitter man," he announced defensively, "and I have not communicated with him in three years."
Alanna came to the doorway, saw what was clearly a confrontation, and turned away, but Byron called out to invite her to join them. "Please give us the benefit of your wisdom, Alanna. This is a family matter, after all."
Alanna sent Arielle a questioning glance, and only after receiving an encouraging nod did she enter, but she took a chair near the window rather than intrude. She accepted a
cup of tea from Arielle, but immediately set it aside. "Is there a problem?" she asked.<
br />
"You might say that," Byron answered. "You will recall that Arielle and I had a difficult time leaving Acadia."
"Yes. I do remember," Alanna said. "The Acadians being transported on your ship seized control from the captain and held you prisoner for a time. What made you think of that after all these years?"
Byron gestured toward their guest. "Having the son of an Acadian in our midst prompted all sorts of intriguing memories. Tell us the version you heard of that shipboard revolt, Etienne," Byron encouraged. "I'm certain your father must remember things differently than we do."
Etienne swept Dominique with a fearful glance. "I am nothing like my father," he swore. "You must not blame me for his mistakes."
"Of course not," she replied. She looked toward her mother, who was studying the swirling design in the rug. Her Aunt Alanna was staring wide-eyed at Etienne, while her father wore a smugly satisfied grin as though he had just sold his tobacco crop at a record price. Not liking the odds, she left the settee, went to Etienne's side, and looped her arm through his. He patted her hand and she felt him trembling.
"Could we possibly begin at the beginning?" Dominique inquired. "You appear to be blaming Etienne for something his father did in Acadia, which is absurd. If I'm the only one here who doesn't know precisely what it was, I can't defend him as readily as I'd like."
Byron gave Etienne a chance to speak, but when the young man remained silent, he provided his own version of the story. "Gaetan LeBlanc was in love with your mother. She had refused his proposal before I arrived in Grand Pre, but he was not a man who could accept her decision in a gentlemanly manner. In fact, he was a firebrand who fought everyone who crossed him, and when we left Acadia on the
same ship, he led the men who overpowered the crew, tried to beat me to death, and made a hostage of your mother. She and I escaped, but even after all these years, I find it difficult to believe Gaetan LeBlanc's son could have walked into our home by chance."