Deceive Not My Heart

by Shirlee Busbee

  That suited Justin just fine and like silent conspirators they crept away, leaving Morgan sleeping more peacefully than he had in days. The two of them removed their footwear and Justin waded almost to his knees into the pool; Leonie, mindful of the last time Morgan had found her with her skirts hitched up about her waist, only lifted the hem of her gown slightly and stuck her toes in the cool water.

  The hot sun beat down on her uncovered head and, for one wild moment, she wanted to strip off the confining gown and slip naked into the blue depths of the pool, but Morgan's presence stopped her. It didn't, however, stop Justin, and with Leonie's laughing permission he flung off his clothes and like a small golden pagan he frolicked in the water for some time.

  It was the sound of Justin's laughter that eventually woke Morgan. For a moment he blinked sleepily up at the branches of the sycamore tree before his eyes caught sight of Leonie and Justin. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he watched Justin splash and paddle in the water.

  Leonie too made him smile, the expression on her face making it obvious that under different circumstances, she also would have shed her clothes and taken the same pagan enjoyment of the pool that Justin did. The glimpse of her bare feet beneath the hem of her gown caused his smile to widen and for one wicked moment he considered suggesting to her that they both join Justin.

  Regretfully, he relinquished the idea and assumed a sitting position. As he chewed a blade of grass, the disturbing thought occurred to him that he had never seen his own son play with such natural abandon. Stephanie wouldn't have allowed it, and Morgan frowned at the comparison that was shaping in his mind. Almost angrily he pushed the annoying thoughts aside. Damnit, Leonie wasn't his wife, and Justin wasn't his son, so there were no comparisons to make.

  He lounged there for some minutes, enjoying the sight of Leonie and Justin, and wondering how she was going to react to his plans for the rest of the day. Even with Justin along to halfway guarantee her good behavior, he rather thought he was going to have his hands full.

  Morgan wasn't deliberately using Justin to control Leonie, but he had to admit, he was taking advantage of her obvious love for the child. There was no way in hell that she would have consented to come for a ride alone with him, but in front of Justin... ah, that was a different matter.

  The plan hadn't sprung full blown in his mind, but that morning a glimmer of an idea had occurred to him. He had been in his office riffling through some correspondence when a note from his mother telling him of the ball being held the next evening for Aaron Burr attracted his attention.

  He had been disappointed that there was nothing from Jason, even though he knew there had been barely enough time for Jason to have received his letter, but the note from Noelle had aroused his curiosity. What in the devil was the ex-vice-president doing in Natchez? And why in the hell had his mother thought he and Leonie would like to attend a ball in Burr's honor?

  Sighing, Morgan had tossed the note aside, Aaron Burr the least of his worries, Leonie and Justin uppermost in his mind. Staring blankly out the French doors, he had admitted to himself that his decision earlier this morning not to fight against the silken chains Leonie was weaving about him wasn't going to be easy to carry out. For one thing, his little wife was going to view every move he made with suspicion, and, a cynical smile crossing his face, he had admitted she had good reason.

  Certainly she wasn't going to accept any advances he made... and that was when the idea of combining his desire to spend the day with Justin and his equal desire to disarm Justin's mother occurred to him. Why not simply include Leonie in the plans that he had made with the boy? In Justin's presence it was highly unlikely that she would refuse to accompany them.

  Pleased with himself, just about the time Leonie was learning of his return, Morgan had left the office and immediately set his plans in motion. He had made a swift trip to Bonheur to have an interesting conversation with his mother.

  Noelle, her pretty dark eyes seeking understanding, had said, "Morgan, I was not being critical of your wife nor was I trying to make judgments about her! But if it's escaped your notice that Leonie possesses only three gowns, it hasn't escaped mine. I suggested to her that as the wife of a very rich man there would be nothing wrong with her ordering a few new gowns." Throwing him a resentful look she added, "And I was tactful!"

  Smiling down into her ruffled features, he had said, soothingly, "I'm certain you were." Then cocking an eyebrow at her, he asked, "Am I to believe that her refusal stopped you from doing anything further?"

  A guilty expression flitted across his mother's face. "N-n-no," she got out uncomfortably. "I did go ahead and have Mercy give me Leonie's measurements, and I've had Mrs. Dobson start a limited wardrobe for her." Somewhat defiantly she added, "For the boy and Yvette too!"

  "I see. And now I take it you need my help?" Morgan had inquired mockingly.

  "Well, yes, you see, several of the gowns are ready to be fitted...." Her voice trailed off.

  "And you need me to make certain Leonie is there," Morgan finished for her.

  "Oh, yes, Morgan! That would be splendid!"

  Giving his mother an old-fashioned look, Morgan had said resignedly, "All right. Somehow, and God knows how, I'll get her to Mrs. Dobson's. When?"

  "At three?" she had asked hopefully.

  "At three it shall be."

  It had seemed rather simple when he had discussed it with his mother, but now he wasn't so certain. And glancing at his watch, the small, gold crucifix dangling from the watch chain, he realized that he didn't have much more time before taking Leonie for her fitting. A fitting he was very certain she was going to object to. But with Justin along.... He sighed ruefully, hoping it would work.

  Standing up, he walked over to where Leonie was watching Justin, his approach so quiet that Leonie didn't even realize he had left the quilt until he was directly behind her. His warm breath on her ear and his arms gently closing around her waist was the first warning she had that he was no longer safely asleep.

  Startled, and not liking the way her heart began to race at his nearness, she muttered, "Let me go, monsieur!"

  But Morgan ignored her and nuzzled her ear, murmuring, "Mmmm, I think next time we come here, we should leave Justin at the house, don't you?"

  Unbearably conscious of his tall, warm body behind hers and the strength of the arms that were clasped loosely about her waist, Leonie was suddenly tongue-tied, one part of her wanting to melt against him and another part of her angry with the way he played with her emotions, furious with herself for responding to his practiced charm.

  Stiffly she finally got out, "I do not appreciate your comments, monsieur. And you are an imbecile if you think what happened here once will ever happen again."

  "Is that so?" Morgan replied interestedly, as he loosened his hold on her and turned her around to face him.

  Her small face set in stubborn lines, she stared up into his dark, handsome features, disliking the amusement she saw in the blue eyes. "Yes, that is so!" she said with unwonted fierceness. "We agreed that ours was not to be a normal marriage. And I have your signature on just such an agreement, monsieur.... Force me and I shall give that to the judge also!"

  "Ah, yes," Morgan said, a half-smile curving his full mouth. "You did mention that there was another agreement, didn't you? You really must show it to me sometime—my lamentable memory, I'm afraid, has allowed me to forget all about ever signing it."

  "Your memory is very convenient, monsieur!" Leonie said through gritted teeth.

  Morgan grinned at her. "It is, isn't it?"

  Leonie took a deep breath, her hands clenching into small determined fists at her side. "You find it amusing now, monsieur, but when Judge Dangermond orders you to repay me my dowry, I wonder if you shall find it quite so laughable."

  Infuriatingly he murmured, "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we, sweetheart."

  Leonie might have continued the exchange, but Justin came wading up to them at t
hat moment and in the bustle of getting him dried off and dressed, the opportunity was lost.

  Seated once more in the gig, Justin between herself and that abominable creature she was married to, Leonie stared stonily ahead. She relaxed slightly as the house came into view, wanting nothing more than to put a great deal of distance between herself and her husband. Mon Dieu, but he is impossible, she thought wrathfully. He smiles when he should rage and jests about the most serious things!

  When Morgan drove smartly by the house, with not even a break in the stride of the horses, Leonie stiffened in her seat, and sending Morgan a look that could have killed, she asked, "More surprises, monsieur?"

  Never taking his eyes off the horses, Morgan replied, "Not precisely. An inevitable event, I think, would more correctly describe the situation."

  The green eyes beginning to flash with rising temper, Leonie demanded, "And where does this inevitable event take us?"

  "Why, to the dressmaker, of course," Morgan said coolly.

  Chapter 21

  An ominous silence seemed to engulf the gig. Even Justin felt it, and turning to look up at his mother, he asked uncertainly, "Is something wrong, maman? Don't you want to go to the dressmaker's with us?"

  Leonie took a deep, fortifying breath, fighting to hold onto her flaming temper. With an effort she smiled down into Justin's face and said, with as much lightness as she could muster, "But of course I do, mon coeur!" Glaring over at Morgan, she added, "I just wish your papa had discussed the matter with me first!"

  Morgan smiled. "I would have," he said, "but if you'd known, you'd have found an excuse not to come."

  "Why?" Justin asked. "Don't you like the dressmaker?"

  Leonie gave him a strained little smile. "Yes, yes, naturally I like the dressmaker. It is just that I had other things I'd planned to do this afternoon."

  "What?" Justin innocently persisted, and Leonie had to suppress a decidedly unmaternal urge to shake him.

  Angry with herself for growing angry with Justin when it wasn't his fault, she resolutely swallowed the rage against Morgan that rose in her throat. Helplessly, she muttered, "I don't remember exactly."

  "Well, then," Justin said sunnily, "you can come with us, oui?"

  Morgan's strangled snort of laughter was almost Leonie's undoing, but beyond glaring at him, she nodded yes in answer to Justin's question, and the remainder of the journey into Natchez was without further incident... but only on the surface. How dare he! she thought furiously. To use Justin as a weapon against me! Angrily she shot Morgan a look, the palm of her hand itching almost uncontrollably with the desire to connect with his face. Unscrupulous bastard! If they had been alone...

  Mrs. Dobson's home proved to be a neat white little cottage near the edge of town. A pristine white picket fence surrounded the small house and beautiful, sweet-smelling yellow roses grew rampant across the front of the fence.

  Morgan tethered the horses to the painted white iron hitching post, and he walked around to Leonie's side of the gig and politely helped her down. Catching a glimpse of the chagrin and thwarted temper that raged in her eyes, his lips twitched. Obviously the little madame didn't like being crossed nor, it appeared, did she care much for his tactics.

  Concealing his amusement, he pulled her arm through one of his and murmured, "Mrs. Dobson is quite nice; you don't have to be frightened of her."

  Leonie refused to meet his eyes, her temper not helped in the least by Justin's happy acceptance of the situation. Unaware of the currents passing between the adults, he skipped merrily along at Morgan's side.

  Feeling like a condemned prisoner, Leonie allowed Morgan to escort her into Mrs. Dobson's parlor. It was a cozy room, cheerful chintz curtains hanging at the windows and an obviously prized blue wool carpet covering the wooden floor. The room smelled of fresh air and beeswax, and the simple oak furniture gleamed with the deep shine that only repeated polishing could give it.

  Mrs. Dobson, a plump widow with four daughters to raise, greeted them pleasantly, her expert seamstress' eye running over Leonie's slim figure and Justin's sturdy little body. A pleased smile wreathing her round, kind face, she said, "I think that several of the items will fit with hardly any alterations. How fortunate!" And seeing that Justin was appraising the room with the look of a young gentleman about to embark upon mischief, she said brightly, "Perhaps we can have Master Justin try on his clothing first?" Pointing to several fashion plates with swatches of material attached to them, she added, "Your mother-in-law had only ordered certain things that she felt were the most necessary and, if you like, you may look through those plates for additional clothing."

  Leonie stiffened and Mrs. Dobson had barely disappeared with Justin in tow before she rounded on Morgan. "How dare you Slades! How dare you and your mother go behind my back this way! We do not need your charity, monsieur! Give me my dowry and we shall be gone and you will not have to be embarrassed by our appearance! Mon Dieu, but you Slades are arrogant and overbearing!"

  Morgan regarded her thoughtfully. If she was acting she was giving a magnificent performance, and almost idly he asked, "Why should the gift of a few gowns for yourself and breeches for the boy distress you? I am a rich man, as you well know, and as you've admitted money is your one reason for being here, why should you object if I choose to spend some of it on you?"

  Leonie drew herself up proudly. "We want nothing from you, monsieur, except what is rightfully ours—my dowry!" she spat furiously.

  "Why not consider the clothes part of the dowry?" Morgan countered, conscious of both the desire to shake her silly and kiss her senseless.

  "Clothes!" Leonie said with loathing. "You think I would waste the money on clothes?" she asked incredulously.

  "What would you use the money for?" he demanded. "Jewels? A larger carriage than all the other ladies possess?"

  "There is only one thing that money will be used for," Leonie replied fervently. "Chateau Saint-Andre!"

  Sardonically Morgan said, "Ah, yes, the ancestral acres. How stupid of me to have forgotten."

  Leonie flinched at his words and, turning away from him, she said tonelessly, "You do not believe me, but it is true."

  "As true as that marriage certificate you've thrust under my nose?" Morgan inquired cynically.

  Her eyes flashing, Leonie spun around to face him. Approaching him, she snapped, "You, sir, are despicable! I wish I had never laid eyes on you!"

  His own temper fraying, Morgan grasped one of her wrists and jerked her up next to him. "You no more than I," he snarled.

  She was too tempting that close to him, and throwing caution to the winds, with something between a curse and a groan, his mouth captured hers in a kiss which punished and promised heaven at the same time. It had been unwise to touch her, he realized immediately, to feel her soft lips under his. The intoxicating nearness of that slim body which had haunted his dreams unleashed such a flood of achingly sweet desire that Morgan forgot everything but the woman in his arms.

  The effect of that kiss was just as devastating to Leonie. Helplessly she fought to deny the rising tide of desire his touch evoked. Without volition her body pressed itself ardently to his, and when Morgan's arms tightened around her, she gave a small sigh of satisfaction, her lips responding to the hungry demand of his.

  As Morgan deepened the kiss her breasts seemed fuller, more sensitive, and she was conscious of the sweet swirl of desire in her loins. Eagerly she returned his kiss, all of her passionate nature aroused; hungry for him, her fingers grasped his dark hair; unconsciously she moved her hips against his groin, excited and pleased to feel proof that he was as aroused as she was.

  But even as Leonie gave herself up to the pleasure of his caress, the reality of the fact that she was blindly responding to the man she had the most reason in the world to distrust burst upon her, and with a choked little cry, she tore herself out of his arms. Putting several feet between them, she looked back at him with self-loathing and disgust. Her breath coming in short li
ttle gasps, she said fiercely, "You are not to touch me, monsieur! You promised and I shall not allow it! Touch me again and I will do something that will make you sorry you every laid a finger on me!"

  Morgan froze and regarded her as the desire that had swept through him so urgently only a moment ago began to die. His breathing was uneven and there was a glitter in the blue eyes which made Leonie distinctly uneasy. "You little bitch!" he snarled. "Is it part of the plan to tempt and tease me too? Am I to be brought to my knees by desire for your little golden body? Is that the next step?"

  Her expression puzzled and angry at the same time, Leonie snapped, "I do not know what you are talking about, monsieur!"

  Morgan gave a mirthless laugh, his lips twisting into an ugly sneer. "Now why do I have trouble believing that?" The blue eyes swept over her. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you responded to my kiss. But be careful playing that particular trick, sweetheart. We might not be in such a public place the next time and then, you can be sure, I won't let you take back what you were so generously offering."

  Leonie's bosom swelled with indignation. Holding onto her temper with an effort, she said tightly, "You will take me back to Le Petit immediately, monsieur! I do not want to stay here and certainly I do not want gowns that you have bought!"

  His own temper hardly better held in than Leonie's, Morgan's face set in a hard line. "No," he said. "You're my wife, remember? And as my wife you will dress appropriately."

  Leonie lifted her head proudly. "Bah! You care so much for what people will think?"

  A grim little smile curved Morgan's mouth. "No, cat-eyes. I don't give a damn what people think, but I think that you do."

  "What do you mean?" she demanded with a frown.

  Morgan shrugged carelessly. "Just that you hope to use your lack of attire to your own advantage." His voice like steel, he added, "But you're not going to, my dear. You're going to try on the gowns that Mrs. Dobson has ready and we're going to select several more." Leonie's mouth opened in heated protest, but Morgan sent her a freezing look. "And if you don't cooperate," he finished savagely, "I'll take you in the fitting room and strip you myself."