Wild legacy

by Conn, Phoebe

  Although stunned by her father's ghastly statement, Dominique knew without having to ask that this was the secret she had sensed but that Etienne had refused to reveal. At first, she did not understand why a fight his father had had with hers should matter, even if it had nearly been a fight to the death over her mother. It had occurred before either she or Etienne had been born so surely it did not concern them. Then she looked up at Etienne and saw the dread in his eyes. If he felt so guilty, then there had to be a reason, and she was far too bright not to perceive the cause.

  She released him and took a step away. "You told me your father hated the British. Clearly he also hated my father at one time. Does he hate us still? Is that the real reason you came to America, Etienne? Was it simply to harm the Barclays rather than fight for America's independence?"

  "No!" Etienne shouted emphatically. "I came only to fight, not to seek revenge on my father's old enemies."

  His anguished expression was convincingly sincere, but then Sean O'Keefe had been credible, too. Dominique wanted to believe Etienne with a desperation she could not hide. "But you knew my father's name, didn't you? And that the Barclays were from Virginia?"

  There had been a great deal Etienne had not told her, but he would not lie. "I recognized the name when I met Beau, but it was merely curiosity that brought me here, not a sinister wish to harm any of you. Please believe me, Dominique. Please."

  Dominique heard her mother sobbing softly and wondered if she were crying for everything she had lost in Acadia, or because she was terrified Gaetan LeBlanc might

  have several other sons he would send to America to find them. She had trusted Sean, and been hurt so badly; now the trust she had placed in Etienne was being sorely tested. But if he were no more than a cunning liar, then how could his kisses have tasted so sweet?

  Her heart told her to trust him, but her head advised the caution she had cast aside that afternoon. If she made the wrong choice, he might murder them all in their beds. She also knew she was too dazed from his loving to think clearly on any issue concerning him. She took a deep breath, but it made her decision no easier.

  "I want to believe you," she assured him, "but you should have told me that our parents knew each other long before this."

  Etienne gestured helplessly. "You can see for yourself how easy it is to misunderstand my motives. When you have all been so kind, I did not want to take the risk of turning you against me."

  "So you lied," Byron interjected accusingly.

  Etienne did not respond to him, but to Dominique. "Not to you," he swore.

  As he reached for her hand, she felt not simply his warmth, but an ecstatic rush that she recognized as the power of love. She had been raised with abundant love, and taught to value it above all else. She had her answer, and trusted her heart to decide what was best.

  "I don't believe we should make any decisions based on what happened so long ago," Dominique told her father. "Had Etienne wanted to hurt us, he would have slit Falcon's throat and left his body at the side of the road rather than bring him home."

  "That could easily have been a deliberate ploy to win our trust," Byron argued. "Besides, Falcon is only a Barclay on his mother's side, and killing him would never have satisfied Gaetan's thirst for revenge. You don't know the man,

  370 Phoebe Conn

  sweetheart, but I was surprised when he didn't follow us home after we escaped from his camp in New Brunswick."

  "No," Dominique agreed. "I don't know him, but it sounds as though he fought for what he wanted as savagely as you would." Although her father objected to that comparison with a fiery oath, Dominique refused to retract it. "I only know Etienne, and he's a fine man. I'm not willing to turn him away because of a feud you once had with his father. I can understand why you might not want him staying in our house, but Christian will surely take him in after all he's done for Falcon."

  "I can find my own lodgings," Etienne protested. He brought Dominique's hand to his lips. "I love you with all my heart, but I can not ask you to choose between me and your family. No man should ask that. I will not desert Falcon while he is ill, but I won't see you when I visit him, and I will leave right after the wedding."

  The sorrow in his eyes mirrored her own, and as he left the room, Dominique felt as though her heart had been wrenched from her chest. Etienne had sacrificed his own desires rather than force her to abandon her family, but that did not mean she had to meekly allow him to do it. He had not asked for her hand when her father would surely have laughed in his face, but she did not think he should have walked out on her, either. She could not even imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a house with a man who was consumed with hatred, but Etienne had already proved he knew how to love. She could do no less.

  Byron went to his daughter's side and slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I should have confronted him the night he arrived, and I hope you'll forget you ever knew him."

  Dominique glanced away as though the strain of Etienne's parting had hurt her deeply. She did not reply, but forgetting him was the very last thing she intended to do.

  * * *

  Etienne stood outside Falcon's door until he regained control of his emotions, but his expression was still tormented as he entered his friend's room. Belle and Falcon had again been reading Tom Jones. Belle marked their place and left the bed to come toward him. Etienne tried to find a smile for her, but failed.

  "Oh, dear," Belle greeted him. "We hoped that you and Dominique would have a good time together. What happened?"

  Belle resembled Dominique so closely that Etienne now found looking at her an excruciating reminder of what he had lost and he had to turn away. He felt sick and was sorry he had come upstairs. "It was the best afternoon of my life," he confided, "but when we came home, Byron asked me to leave. He and my father were enemies in Acadia, and he does not trust me."

  Falcon began to swear, then for Belle's sake caught himself before he completed the colorful curse. "When you came home with Beau, Uncle Byron told us a Gaetan Le-Blanc had tried to kill him years ago. I don't understand why he waited from that day to this to object to your presence here."

  Etienne noted the confusion in their faces and was mystified as well. "Do you mean you have known the whole time just whose son I am?"

  "Every man acquires a few enemies," Belle exclaimed, "and because of my father's political views, he probably has more than most. I'm sure he tried not to be prejudiced against you, but perhaps he's become fearful of what might develop between you and Dominique."

  "With good reason," Etienne muttered under his breath. "I told him I would still come to see you, Falcon, but I can't stay today. I need to gather my belongings and find another place to live."

  Belle sent Falcon a quizzical glance and he nodded. "Just move over to the Scotts', south of here," she suggested. "The house belongs to Liana's family and we keep an eye on it. There are linens on the bed in the master bedroom, and you'll be comfortable there. We'll have food for you here when you come to visit Falcon. Don't be discouraged, Etienne. We'll convince my father he's being unreasonable about you."

  Overwhelmed first by the vehemence of Byron's objection to him, and now by Falcon and Belle's support, Etienne didn't know what to believe. "Why would you take my side against your father?"

  "Because he's wrong!" Belle exclaimed. "If you had had evil intentions, I doubt you would have walked in and given a name my parents would recognize. It would have been stupid to put them on their guard, and anyone can see you're very bright."

  Etienne was sorry he had not brought up that point himself. "I wish you had been downstairs just now," he replied. "Unfortunately, Dominique knew none of this, and she is hurt because I did not tell her our fathers were enemies before Byron did."

  Belle rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lord."

  "Oui. I will see you tomorrow, Falcon. Now, I just want to go."

  Readily understanding his friend's plight, Falcon excused him, but as soon as the Frenchman had le
ft the room, he pulled Belle into his arms. "I'm so glad we don't have such problems anymore. Poor Dominique. Do you suppose she'll refuse to leave her room until the wedding?"

  "I hope not." Belle clung to him, and sighed dejectedly. "Dominique used to be so strong, I can't bear to think she might be as miserably unhappy as she was over Sean."

  Falcon leaned back against his pillows. "Perhaps if we hadn't pushed Etienne and Dominique together, your father wouldn't have thrown him out." He was quiet a long mo-

  ment, and then kissed Belle's temple. "I know that I promised to build you a house as fine as the one Christian built for Liana, but if we stay here, we will always be in your father's shadow. When the war finally ends, maybe we ought to clear our own land, and begin our lives together somewhere new."

  Belle had always thought they would remain at home, but she needed only a moment's reflection to understand his concern. "Do you have a place in mind?"

  Falcon nodded. "The Seneca used to hunt in the Ohio Valley. It's a beautiful place, Belle, and we could have a fine life there. We'd not have to answer to anyone, or be thought of as the Seneca branch of the Barclays."

  Belle rested her forehead against his while she considered his plan and could find no reason to object. "There's not only my father to think about, but Beau as well. One day this will be his home, and it will be awfully crowded no matter how many houses we build."

  "You'll come with me, then?"

  "Of course, but you must promise that you won't make me chase you through the wilderness ever again."

  Falcon pulled her down on the bed, and while their loving play went no further than deeply adoring kisses, they were content. When Belle left him, she expected to find Dominique in her room, at best in a melancholy mood, at worst, weeping uncontrollably, but her sister's room was empty. Perplexed, Belle went looking for her and at last found her out in the herb garden.

  "Are you all right?" Belle called to her.

  Dominique looked up, and there was no trace of tears in her gaze. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

  Astonished to find Dominique so calm, Belle recounted Etienne's anguished tale. "Falcon and I fear we're at fault for encouraging his interest in you. He's heartbroken that Father sent him away. I didn't realize that you didn't care for him at all."

  Dominique snipped a sprig of rosemary and twirled it under her nose to enjoy its pungent scent. "Did fetienne really describe our picnic as 'the best afternoon of my life'?"

  Exasperated with her older sister, Belle put her hands on her hips. "Damn it all, Dominique. I thought you'd stopped playing with men's affections."

  Dominique tried not to smile, but failed to suppress the joy of her own memories. "Please believe me. I'm not trifling with Etienne. Do you know where he's gone?"

  Belle recalled how miserable the Frenchman had looked, and couldn't bear to think Dominique might simply toy with him. "Do you really care?" she asked.

  Dominique feared she may have deserved Belle's sarcastic question a great many times in the past, but not now. She dropped the rosemary into her basket and spoke from her heart. Her voice was flavored with the sweetness she had showed Etienne. "Yes. I care very much. Now tell me, so I don't have to waste any time finding him."

  Belle saw too much of the old Dominique in the bright gleam in her sister's eyes to suit her, and remained apprehensive about her motives. "He's staying at the Scotts', but please don't go over there just to torment him, Dominique. He really loves you."

  "Yes. I know."

  "He told you?"

  "Yes. In both English and French." Dominique drew Belle to the end of the garden where their privacy would be assured. "I realize I must seem as fickle as I used to be, but please believe me when I say that isn't the case. I adore Etienne and have no intention of giving him up just because Father has forbidden him to call."

  Fearing she had misjudged her sister, Belle sucked in a startled gasp. "Oh, no, Dominique. What sort of plot are you hatching now?"

  "I do not hatch plots," Dominique protested, "and even

  if I did, the last one brought you and Falcon together so you ought not to complain."

  Belle could not easily dismiss the grave peril of nearly becoming British prisoners, but Dominique was correct in one respect. "That is true, but—"

  "Just listen," Dominique insisted. "I want Mother and Father to believe I'm still pining for Sean and that Etienne was no more than a momentary diversion. Please tell Falcon the truth. I intend to tell Etienne, but not until after your wedding. I don't want anyone to know I'm still seeing him.

  "Please help me with this, Belle. I can't bear to have fetienne suffer for something his father did. If Father were to guess that I love him, then he would take steps to keep us apart. But if he believes I don't care, then I'll be free to come and go as I please. I'm not asking you to lie or make excuses for me. Just don't mention Etienne at all."

  Belle didn't know which was worse, lying to their parents again, or knowing that Dominique had become her old manipulative self.

  Etienne had not been hungry after the awful scene at the Barclays' so he had not missed supper. He had explored the Scott residence and found the empty house reminded him far too much of the one he had been forced to leave. Too sick at heart to search for another home that night, however, he decided to remain.

  The bed Belle had offered was comfortable, but when he had lost the only woman he had ever wanted for his wife, he found it impossible to sleep. He lay stretched across the bed, staring up into the darkness and not caring if he saw the dawn. When he heard the back door open, his first thought was that Byron had either sent someone after him or come himself, and he grabbed his knife and waited on the landing. When he heard Dominique whisper his name,

  i -*

  he dropped the weapon on the hall table and ran down the stairs.

  "Mon Dieu!" he cried. "What are you doing here?"

  "I know it's after two, but I took the chance you'd find it as impossible to sleep as I have."

  "Dominique," he sighed, and gathered her into his arms. He hugged her, then pulled her down beside him on the stairs. "I did not think you would ever come to me."

  Dominique leaned across him and ran her hand up his inner thigh. His buckskins were very soft and her touch whisper-light. "Refusing to ask me to choose between my family and you was a wonderfully noble gesture, Etienne, but I already made my choice yesterday afternoon. Didn't you understand that?"

  Etienne tried to still her hand, but she continued to knead his thigh with a knowing touch. His breath caught in his throat. "What are you saying?"

  Dominique bit his lower lip, then kissed him. "That after I'd given myself to you, you can not give me back to my father." She raked the tip of her thumbnail across his crotch. He was already hard, and pleased she had such a potent affect upon him, she used her fingertips to stroke him lightly. "You asked me to marry you, and I'm going to insist that you keep your word."

  £tienne could scarcely breathe, let alone think, with Dominique demanding he honor a promise that he wanted so badly to keep. When she reached for his belt buckle, he knew this was one argument he was never going to win. Then she slid her hand inside his buckskins and he had to lean back against the stairs. With his elbows braced on one step and his head resting on the one above, he was as comfortable as he had been on the grass.

  Etienne's grateful moan inspired Dominique to grow even more bold. Her hair was loose, and she let it fall across his bare belly as she dipped her head. He slid his hands through her curls, his garbled French now unintelligible, but his ges-

  ture was unmistakable and she swirled her tongue around the crown of his shaft. She had not expected it to be as soft as her breast when he was so hard. Her hands were small, and she could not wrap her fingers all the way around him.

  She mimicked the motion he had used inside her while she continued to tease him with her mouth and tongue. "Did you really believe I would let you walk away?"

  What Etienne could not believe was
how glorious her heated kisses felt. Her mouth was a magical pool that lapped at his very soul and when he could stand no more, he knew he could never carry her upstairs to the bed, and instead pulled her down onto the floor. She was clad in a nightgown that he swept aside easily, entering her with a single, driving thrust; then he had to use all the willpower he possessed not to release his climax in that instant.

  He grabbed thick handfuls of her hair and forced himself to speak. "Witch! Do you want to make a slave of me?"

  Dominique raised up to lick his lips. "No. Only a husband." She drew him down into a slow, deep kiss, and then ground her hips against his to entice him into an ageless dance. He was what she had always hoped love would be, and even on a plank floor, she felt close to paradise. She kept him locked in her embrace until neither of them wanted, or could stand, more.

  "I love you," she breathed against his ear.

  Etienne could remember being desperately unhappy only an hour ago, but with Dominique in his arms, he could not recall why. "We ought to go upstairs."

  Too relaxed to move, Dominique couldn't agree. "I like it here."

  Etienne nuzzled her throat. "I should have waited. It was too soon, and I hurt you again."

  "It does not compare to the threat of losing you."

  He covered her face with tender kisses. "I will not earn enough with the militia to buy your slippers," he revealed.

  "I must own a dozen pairs. I won't need any new ones for years."

  He licked her ears. "And your pretty gowns?" he asked. "It will take me more than a year to save enough to buy one."

  "I've plenty of those, too." Dominique slid her hand up his arm, then across his shoulder. "I don't need fancy clothes to be happy, Etienne. I need only you."

  While Etienne felt her love in her every touch, he could not quite accept his good fortune. "Beau is never going to believe this."