Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

His answer was in the ardent mouth that met his, in the fervent melting of the slim young body against his. For a long time there was silence in the library except for the crackle of the fire and the muttered endearments that lovers exchange. Explanations could come later, explanations and understanding, and with those forgiveness, but right now there was just each other—no tomorrow, no yesterday, just the present.

  CHAPTER 38

  They were married the next day, a Wednesday, in a small town some twenty miles above New Orleans, by a justice of the peace, with Higgins, grinning broadly, as one of the witnesses. The justice's wife had been hastily summoned as the other witness, and as she later told her husband, she had never seen such a handsome couple or two people so obviously in love with each other.

  Christopher quite frankly could not keep his gaze off Nicole, almost as if he expected her to vanish, and Nicole made no effort to hide the love shining out of the topaz eyes. She could have wished that Lord and Lady Saxon had been there, but all that really mattered to her was that Christopher loved her, loved her enough to marry her, even if it was a hurried, secret, simple ceremony.

  They rode back to New Orleans in silence, the persistent rain making it a damp, uncomfortable journey despite the warmed bricks to keep the feet warm and the tight construction of Christopher's elegant carriage. Higgins, displaying his usual tact, had elected to brave the weather; blandly ignoring Christopher's and Nicole's protestations, he sat with the coachman during the four-hour journey back to New Orleans. Ordinarily it would not have taken so long, but the rain had turned the roads into quagmires of mud and silt, and the carriage could gain no speed.

  Inside the coach the silence was companionable, both occupants for the first time in their relationship almost at peace with each other. There were difficulties still ahead of them, but with patience, understanding, and love they would overcome them, provided, as Christopher had said with a laugh last night, "We can keep from flying at each other's throat the first second one of us says something the other takes violent exception to!"

  They arrived just before dusk at Dauphine Street, and Christopher wasted little time in assembling his staff and presenting Nicole as his wife, and their new mistress. Later he made it extremely clear to Sanderson that he would appreciate it if the actual marriage was said to have taken place in England, today's ceremony merely a reaffirmation of their vows.

  His features crinkling into a wide, white-toothed grin, Sanderson had replied, "I understand perfectly, sir. There will be no gossip. I will see to it!"

  Christopher had grinned, dismissing him with a careless flick of the hand. Nicole's position was now secure as his wife, and Sanderson would see to it that no one dared raise any awkward questions, either in his own home or in the homes of others.

  Before he could put the present aside and concentrate on the far more agreeable subject of his very new bride, he sat down and wrote two short messages. One was sent round to Jason Savage's with the less-than-cryptic message that he and his wife, Nicole, would be delighted to dine with them tomorrow evening.

  The second letter took a little longer to write and would take weeks, even months, to reach its destination in England. It was to Lord Saxon; he wrote simply that he was once again in New Orleans and that Nicole was with him —this time no longer his ward, but his wife. After a fond inquiry as to the state of his grandfather's health and that of Lady Saxon, Christopher closed the brief note with the promise that come summer, he and his bride would return once again to England. Tomorrow he would find out from Jason if there were any ships due to run the blockade of the Gulf that might take the letter to his grandfather.

  His most pressing tasks seen to, he was able to sit back in the quietness of his library and with a bemused expression recall that he was now a married man.

  A tender, half-amused smile on his mouth, with an eager step he left the library, intent on finding that tempting creature, who was now his wife. He found her sitting prosaically in the main salon, idly studying some dress pattern plates.

  At his entrance she glanced up, and sending him an almost-shy smile, she put down the plate in her hand and asked, "Did you finish your business?"

  "Yes, I did. The Savages have been informed, and I'm certain they will do their part to stifle any awkwardness that might arise. I don't foresee any—after all, we have been back in New Orleans barely three days and you have made no social appearances. I seriously doubt that anyone outside of the members of my household and the Savages even knows you are here. I've spoken to Sanderson to make certain none of our servants prattle. Few people are even aware that I am back in the city, so I think we can safely put aside the worry of gossip."

  Slightly surprised at what had constituted the important business he had stated that he must see to immediately, she questioned gravely, "Why are you so concerned about gossip now? You never have been."

  Christopher gave her a twisted smile. "I've never had a wife to worry over, either, and I will not have you the object of every scandalmonger in the city. Especially since the fault of your predicament was largely due to me."

  A warm little glow of gratification spread through Nicole's body when she heard those words. More than she would have cared to admit she had dreaded the furor their unorthodox marriage would have caused. Not so strangely too, it gave her the unusual feeling of being protected to know that Christopher, abandoning his usual indifference to what people thought, had immediately taken steps to insure that no one could create a disagreeable situation for her. And with a smile hovering about her lips she remembered the old adage that reformed rakes make the best husbands. She fervently hoped it was true.

  Seeing her smile, Christopher drawled quietly, "That amuses you? The fact that I want no one to besmirch your name?"

  "Not that! I was just thinking of that saying about reformed rakes, and wondering if you were going to run true to form."

  Christopher seated himself beside her on the sofa, and lifting one of her hands, he pressed the palm to his lips. "I intend to try, m'dear. I intend to try."

  Breathless, Nicole could find no words to say, and after a second Christopher asked quizzically, "Aren't you going to say the same? That you're going to try too to make our marriage work?"

  "Oh, I will!" she promised instantly, leaning against him, her mouth unconsciously beckoning. And unable to help himself, Christopher caught her close in a fierce embrace, his lips searching hers, demanding a response. Nicole gave it unstintingly; the fiery tip of her tongue slipped into his mouth, and with a smothered groan Christopher was the one who ended the kiss. "Witch!" he said in a husky tone. "This is not the time to start that kind of thing! Later this evening will be soon enough. I can tell you I do not intend to sleep alone in my bed as I did last night!"

  A teasing light in the topaz eyes, Nicole murmured, "Why did you? You've never let the lack of a wedding band stop you before."

  A frown wrinkled Christopher's forehead as he said slowly, "I admit being guilty of that! But knowing we were to be married today, somehow I didn't want the memory of the night before the wedding to interfere with the wedding night." Almost ashamedly he added, "A most odd sentiment coming from me, my love, but there you have it."

  The most incredible suspicion that underneath the habitual cold exterior the world saw of Christopher Saxon, lay a romantic heart was taking hold of Nicole, and a delightful gurgle of laughter broke from her. "Christopher!" she spluttered. "Next you shall be telling me that you are sorry you treated me so cavalierly in the beginning."

  Slanting her a mocking look, he retorted bluntly, "No, I am not sorry about anything I have done to you in the past. My only regret is that the moment I saw you I did not recognize my fate and haul you before the nearest minister and marry you instantly! I would have saved myself a great deal of heartburning and uncertainty."

  Unable to help herself, softly Nicole taunted, "And did you suffer great heartburning?"

  Christopher pushed her gently down on the sofa, and leaning over her,
his mouth barely touching hers, he muttered, "And what do you think? First there was Allen to keep me tossing and turning in my bed, wondering if the two of you were together somewhere lying in each other's arms!" The half-tender, half-teasing note vanished as he said in an entirely different tone of voice, "Then there was England." Harshly, he snarled, "Yes, by God, I suffered heartburnings—heartburnings, jealousy, rage, hatred. I suffered the lot, you little devil!"

  His face had that shut-in expression she had seen so often in the past; his eyes were suddenly cold and inimical as he stared down at her. She met that gaze this time without flinching, and very gently her fingers traced the chiseled outline of his lips. "You didn't have to, you could have given me some sign of what you were feeling." He started to twist away, but Nicole held him to her by the simple act of twining her arms about his neck. "Listen to me, you fool!" she whispered against his ear. "There was never anyone for me, except you! But how could I let you know? The one time I tried, you threw it back in my face. I was certain you felt nothing for me." Her mouth curving wryly, she added, "Except for a certain amount of animal passion."

  It was Christopher's turn to look wry. "I felt a great deal of animal passion for you, my dear! I don't deny it. But at the same time, I had never wanted a woman to belong to just me. I had never felt compelled to protect one or see that her future was secure—even if it meant denying myself. And I had never experienced such a destroying emotion as jealousy before. I could have killed Robert and all the others just for looking at you." His face hardened again, the gold eyes were suddenly bleak, and he finished, "And I could have killed you when I discovered you were with him that last night in England."

  Searchingly Nicole's gaze traveled over his features. In a very careful tone of voice she said, "Robert was nothing to me, but a good friend, Christopher. Later when I learned his part in what had happened to you, I loathed him."

  Christopher's face did not change, nor did he give any sign he believed what she had said, and Nicole's heart tightened painfully. There was so much that had to be said between them, but Christopher was not about to discuss the past. As if in confirmation of her thoughts, he sat up and said lightly, "Enough of this. Sanderson will no doubt be informing us that dinner is ready in no time. Would you like a glass of sherry or shall I pour you something stronger?"

  Reluctantly following his lead, she smiled with false brightness and indicated that a sherry would be fine. Consideringly she studied the tall, lean body, as with his back to her, he decanted some brandy for himself and a light golden sherry for herself. He was so dear and handsome, and yet she knew they could not simply pretend that the past did not exist. Christopher might have confessed that he loved her, and she believed that he did—but she also knew he hadn't wanted to love her and that he still harbored certain suspicions and doubts about her. Doubts and suspicions that could destroy the fragile beginning they had at the moment. She wasn't even positive that he believed her avowal of love. Last night there had been a faint gleam of cynicism in his eyes when she had blurted out what was in her heart. And today, despite the fact of their marriage and the way he looked at her, there was a hint of wariness in his manner, and she wondered with a shiver of sadness if he was al- ready regretting not only what he had admitted to last night, but their marriage as well.

  That thought was uppermost in her mind all through the delicious dinner that Ruth-Marie had prepared for them, and this time, thinking hard, Nicole did grim justice to the delectable array of dishes placed before her. Swallowing the last bite of a melting almond macaroon souffle, she made a fierce vow to herself that Christopher was going to have to face not only the truth about her mother, but about Robert as well. Because until he did they could never share the kind of love and marriage that she wanted—that she was determined to have. He had said he wanted no ghosts in his marriage bed, well neither did she!

  With a determined sparkle in the topaz eyes, she entered the main salon, expecting Christopher to follow her shortly. When an hour later he had still not made an appearance, she summoned a servant to discover his whereabouts and was slightly nonplussed when the terse message was relayed to her that the master had gone out! Torn between the desire to laugh and a strong urge to throw a tantrum, Nicole spent the remainder of the evening by herself, not unnaturally speculating on where her exceptionally new husband had gone.

  By ten o'clock and still no sign of Christopher, with a heavy step she ascended to her bedroom, wondering dismally if that now she was his wife, he no longer wanted her, that she was doomed to endless evenings spent by herself. Common sense told her she was being silly, but their relationship was so delicate, as yet so unexplored and untried, that it took very little to shake her confidence.

  Her room had been changed during the day; what clothing and personal effects she had at the moment had been moved into a large elegant suite of rooms that adjoined Christopher's. Ordinarily she might have taken pleasure in the spacious elegant appointments, the thick ruby carpet, the soft gleaming yellow walls, and the rich velvet drapes of sapphire blue, but tonight none of them held her attention. Not even the warmth of fire leaping on a hearth of polished olive slate could melt the iciness that was running through her veins.

  Dismissing Naomi almost immediately and ignoring the flimsy negligee of lush amber silk lying enticingly on the coverlet of sapphire velvet, she stared bitterly at the double louvered doors of natural oak that separated her suite from Christopher's. How dare he do this to me, she questioned with increasing anguish. And slyly the thought slid into her mind—you believe he loves you, is this how you prove it? By doubting him? So soon?

  Instantly angry with herself for being so quick to judge, so quick to look for slights and injustices, she turned away and with a determined stride walked to the bed. There was a very good reason why Christopher had gone out tonight. And he would tell her what it was when he returned.

  Holding firmly onto that thought, she deliberately made herself prepare for bed, just as if she knew that Christopher would be coming to her in a short while. She was not going to greet him in fury and with recriminations —at least not until she had given him a chance to soothe away her doubts and fears. If he didn't...

  Almost lightheartedly she stripped off her gown and, having bathed that evening before meeting Christopher in the salon, slipped into the amber silk negligee, enjoying the luxurious feeling of the material. From a fat crystal flacon she liberally splashed herself with a heady scent that reminded her of spices and carnations. A tortoiseshell hairbrush in her hand, she seated herself on the rug before the fire and slowly, caressingly began to brush the heavy sable hair, the flames on the hearth bringing to life the fiery glow in the wavy mass.

  That was how Christopher found her when, a few minutes later, he quietly opened the louvered doors that separated their rooms. She was bathed in gold, the fire flickering over her body and hair, turning her skin to molten gold, the amber silk negligee to the gold of a morning sunrise, and her hair to dark flame. He caught his breath sharply at the unconsciously sensual picture she made—the negligee in the firelight revealing as much of the slender body as it hid, the steady stroke of the brush in the long silken hair spinning the flame-struck strands about her shoulders.

  He made some sound, never afterward certain what it was, her whispered name or the click of the doors as he shut them behind him, and Nicole turned slowly to look at him. The blinding smile she sent him then left him feeling curiously lightheaded.

  He crossed the room to her side in an instant and, kneeling down on one knee, reached out to touch the sable-fire hair, and with an odd catch in his voice, he muttered, "Ah, God, you are so beautiful I You remind me just now of some pagan goddess who has wrapped a golden chain around my heart, and no matter how I try, I cannot break it! You're an enchantress!"

  The warmth and unconcealed tenderness in Christopher's eyes swept away all her earlier doubts. And because he was near her once again, his hand gently caressing her hair, his mouth just a heartbe
at away, she was able to tease impishly, "Is that why you went off and left me alone all evening? Because I am such an enchantress?"

  Amusement crept into the gold eyes. "Witch!" he mocked. "You have a wicked tongue too." Seating himself on a chair near the fire, he extracted a narrow oblong box from under his jacket. With a diffident quality to his voice, he said as he handed the box to her, "I had not gotten you a bridegroom's gift. Every bride, even one as hastily married as you, deserves something from the man she marries to mark the occasion. And because, I must confess, unfortunately I did not think of it until after dinner tonight, I had the devil's own time rousing a jeweler." To cover his deeper emotions, he drawled lightly, "You have no idea of the trouble you have put me to finding this bauble. I hope it meets with your approval."

  It did. Opening the box with a trembling hand, Nicole sat staring misty-eyed at the magnificent necklace and earrings. Suspended on a finely wrought chain of precious gold was a pear-shaped topaz surrounded by glittering yellow diamonds; the matching earrings of smaller stones had a loop of the yellow diamonds that would dangle and dance against her cheek when she wore them. "Christopher!" she breathed at last. "It's positively the most lovely thing I've ever seen."

  "Mmmm. I wanted a rare stone for you, but when I saw these, I was reminded so vividly of your eyes gleaming with the same color that I knew I had to have them for you." The words were said softly, almost as if to himself, but Nicole heard him and, setting the box away from her, threw her arms about his neck.

  "I love you," she said fiercely. "I think I have always loved you, even when I was a child and you were so brutal to me on La Belle Garce. And I will love you until I die."

  Christopher's arms tightened around her, his mouth instinctively seeking hers. She was warm and yielding in his arms as never before. It went to his head like a most potent wine, and with a low groan, he gently moved to lay her down before the fire, his own hard body lying next to hers. And like a man savoring the taste of heaven, his mouth slid gently over hers, his tongue questing and probing between her lips, before moving on to explore and touch, to incite and arouse.