Emerald Ecstasy (16 page)

“Visiting. It's nice to see you, too, Amelie.” Lianne placed a kiss on her sister-in-law's cheek.

Amelie laid her embroidery hoop aside. “Does Philippe know about this? I can't believe he'd let you out so soon. Why, it isn't proper.”

“Your brother isn't my jailer.”

“Or your keeper, I warrant.”

“I married a man, not a master.”

Amelie sniffed. “Aren't all women trapped in one way or another?”

“Lianne,” Dera broke in, not liking the turn of the conversation, “would you like to see your daughter?”

“Yes, I would.” Lianne left the room, not caring for the gleam in Amelie's eyes and wondering where Daniel was but not asking. She didn't want anyone to know her heart was breaking because she had made the wrong decision by marrying Philippe.

Maria was pleased to see her and Désirée snuggled up to Lianne, her eyes following her every move.

“Mama's darling has grown so big. Why you look more beautiful than ever!”

Désirée babbled she understood. Maria left the room to fix the baby's breakfast and Dera was called away by a servant announcing the arrival of Doctor Markham. Lianne was glad for the time alone with her daughter. She sat in the rocking chair with her and talked to her.

“Soon you shall come to Belle Riviere,
chérie.
Mama has a nice room waiting for you. There are lots of pretty toys, and horses to ride when you're older. And when you're a big girl, I shall have many gowns made for you, and you shall be the most beautiful girl in Louisiana.”

“More beautiful than her mother?”

Lianne looked toward the doorway which framed Daniel's powerful physique. Her heart hammered in her ears. She hadn't really expected to see him, though she had wanted to. She managed a slight smile. “I didn't see you standing there.”

“I didn't want you to. The two of you together is quite a picture. Perhaps I'll paint one. Would you and Désirée mind posing for me?”

Daniel walked into the room, and for the first time, she noticed he looked rather shabby. His shirt was disheveled and appeared not have been taken off for a few days. The dark hair was tousled and hung over his forehead in a way she found endearing. He also needed a shave. Quite unlike Philippe who always looked immaculate. However, her blood stirred in a way it never did for Philippe.

“I've never had my portrait painted.”

“Then it's time you did. Nothing tugs at the heartstrings more than the image of mother and child.”

He knelt beside the rocker, and Lianne smelled stale liquor. Putting out his hand, Désirée clasped his finger, instantly bringing it to her mouth. “She's teething,” he told Lianne.

“How do you know that?” she asked in astonishment.

“Désirée and I are great friends. We visit quite often together.”

His face glowed a warm brown, and his gray eyes lighted up as he let the child gnaw on his finger. Lianne felt shaky, as if she were in a rowboat on suddenly rough seas. Perhaps she shouldn't have left Désirée in Dera's care. Being so close to the child, Daniel might learn the truth, if Dera hadn't told him already. Otherwise, why should he take such an interest in the baby?

“Has your mother mentioned anything to you about Désirée?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know, anything,” she said lamely, not wishing to say too much.

“Let's see.” He paused. “She tells me she is the best baby in the world. She sleeps all night and eats her vegetables and has an easygoing disposition. She thinks she has her mother's nose … and her father's eyes.”

Lianne's hands shook, and she picked up the baby and put her in her bed. “I, I'd better get back to Belle Riviere. Philippe will wonder what happened to me.”

She made a move to leave the room, but Daniel's hand shot out and grasped her wrist. “Is it true she has her father's eyes?”

God, it was true! A fool would have to be blind not to see that Désirée's eyes were the same shape and color as Daniel's. But she couldn't tell him the truth. Philippe was Désirée's father now, and Daniel would never be free to show her any true affection as a father should.

“Yes, she has her father's eyes,” she said truthfully.

“Who is her father, Lianne?”

She gulped. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn't. Things were confused enough, and she'd never admit she made a mistake by marrying Philippe. She was soon to take Daniel's child to be reared in another man's house.

“André Laguens, of course.”

His grip tightened on her wrist until she winced in pain. “You're hurting me, Daniel.”

“Am I? Well, you're hurting me by not admitting the truth. Tell me, I am Désirée's father.”

“You're not!” She twisted her arm but he refused to loosen.

“I'm not such a fool that I can't see the child is mine. And I don't believe you were pregnant when we made love that time.”

“I was.”

“And you let me make love to you while you carried your dead husband's child? What kind of a woman are you?”

“You're drunk,” she scolded.

Daniel laughed lowly. “Yes. I admit I was quite drunk last night, because I've been wondering who the child's father is and torturing myself in the hope that she might be mine. I've always wanted children, Lianne. And I need a woman who desires me as I desire her. I had the mistaken impression that you might be that woman, however, I was wrong. You're a liar; and because you married a man you don't love, you're worse than a whore.”

She slapped him with all the force her left hand could muster. “I detest you, Daniel Flanders!”

He didn't even bother to touch the offended area of his cheek which was a splotchy red. “No, you don't. One day, you might, but now you don't. If I wanted to take you here and now, Lianne, you'd let me. I can almost hear your contented mewls of pleasure, but I'll wait. I'll wait until you beg for me.”

He dropped her wrist and turned on his heels and started to leave the room, but he stopped and smiled at her. “Give Philippe my good wishes.”

Then he was gone. She waited beside the baby's crib. Désirée played in contentment, but Lianne felt like a wilted flower, left too long in the sun. When Dera returned, she asked her what was wrong, but Lianne hastily kissed her and the baby goodbye. Then she rushed down the stairs, not even bothering to return Doctor Markham's greeting as he stood in the vestibule.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rode to Belle Riviere, her self-imposed prison.

Amelie didn't know how much longer she could keep up the pretense.

Doctor Markham's visit had unnerved her, and as she sat on the side veranda and sipped warm, soothing tea, she trembled.

“Why won't you allow me to examine you today?” Doctor Markham had inquired earlier when he saw her in the parlor.

“I'm indisposed,” she had whispered and lowered her eyes in a becoming manner.

Immediately Thaddeus understood, and because he was a gentleman, he didn't press the matter. “I'll check on you in a few days,” he volunteered gallantly.

After his departure, Amelie extinguished a long sigh. At least that problem was over for the moment. But a worse one plagued her, and she could barely speak to Claude when he brought her onto the porch for tea.

Now, her gaze followed him as he walked among the grazing horses in the fields and gave Amie a loving pat. She never tired of looking at him. The simple shirt he wore strained against his chest and his pants molded like sculptor's clay to powerful thighs. She loved Claude and longed to shout her feelings from the rooftop of Green Meadows. However, she'd never do anything to endanger her position as Daniel's wife. But she realized that the time had come when she must rethink that position.

What would happen if someone discovered she could walk? Would her life change so drastically? She felt that soon Thaddeus would ascertain the truth about the paralysis. Yet that didn't bother her so much at the moment and wasn't what caused her fingers to shake and drop the teacup.

“Damn!” she muttered. The crash caused Claude to look toward the veranda. With long strides, he reached her just as a house servant appeared.

“Madam has had an accident,” the servant girl named Ella said and bent to pick up the broken pieces of china.

“My dress is ruined!” Amelie wailed.

Dark splotches stained the bright blue silk. Claude dabbed at it with a napkin.

“Please.” Ella halted him with a hand lightly placed on his wrist, but her dark doe eyes expressed disapproval. “I'll tend to Madam Amelie.”

“How clumsy I've become.” Amelie was on the verge of tears.

“Tsk, madam. Don't cry. The stains shall come out and your dress shall be good as new.”

Claude stood stiffly by. Tenderness shone on his face for Amelie, but a look of keen interest for Ella, who had been recently purchased from a planter in the Felicianas, mingled there, too. He liked the way she took control of the situation with a pleasant detachment.

“I advise, madam, that you change from your soiled dress. I shall see that it is cleaned at once.”

Amelie smiled her thanks, and Claude picked her up. He headed into the house, unaware of Ella's eyes on him. When he lowered Amelie to the floor in her room, he turned her in his arms. “Would madam like me to undress her?”

“Claude!” Amelie flushed but would have adored to have him remove her clothes. However, she said, “I'll ring for Lallie.”

“Are you all right, Amelie? You don't look well lately.”

She twisted away from him. Her eyes held no sparkle. Claude mustn't guess her secret. “Claude, you better leave now. Someone may walk in. Your mother suspects us already.”

His mouth tightened. The dark eyes snapped. “So, madam issues the orders and like a loyal dog, the slave obeys!”

She hadn't meant to sound imperious, but his nearness bothered her and caused her heart to ache even more.

“Claude!” she called after him, but he had left the room in a huff.

Throwing herself on the bed to wait for Lallie, she allowed herself the luxury of tears. Her love for Claude was hopeless. She hated keeping her secret to herself but saw no other alternative. But what was she going to do?

She had implied to Thaddeus that she had her monthly, but for over a month she hadn't seen any trace of it. For the past few mornings, nausea greeted her upon waking and her small breasts seemed slightly fuller. The signs were there, and she couldn't ignore them.

Her hands traced the contours of her abdomen. She wondered how long it would be before her condition showed. What would she do then? Daniel would know he wasn't the baby's father and would take great delight in throwing her out.

She nearly laughed despite the burning ache in her throat. At last, she'd be free of him and his precious plantation. But she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Except for Claude. Claude, her lover. Claude, the slave.

She needed time to think, time to decide what to do. Though she carried a slave's child, she wouldn't rid herself of it. The child was a tie to Claude, the seed of their love.

Rubbing her tears away with small fists, she wondered if the baby would be light-skinned. After all, Claude wasn't much darker than Daniel, and with herself as the mother…

Slowly she stopped crying and sat up, a plan forming in her mind. Perhaps there was a way to keep Claude and her child, a way to remain Daniel's wife. Admittedly, it was a gamble, dependent upon fate. But all of life was a gamble, and she must take the chance.

When Lallie finally entered the room, Amelie's eyes glowed brighter than they had for days. With just the right amount of happy surprise and disbelief in her voice, she spoke to the woman.

“Lallie, some feeling has returned to my legs.”

The news of Amelie's miraculous recovery drifted back to Belle Riviere. Philippe left the marriage chamber earlier than he had intended to visit his sister and took Lianne with him.

“Such wonderful news,” he told Amelie and kissed her cheek heartily.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed and took a few steps in the parlor to show him just how wonderful it was. Amelie sat down, growing quite pale suddenly, and Philippe patted her hand.

“Please take it easy at first. Remember you haven't walked in some time.”

Amelie could only nod as a wave of nausea swept over her.

“I'm pleased for you, also,” Lianne said and sipped a glass of claret a servant presented. Though she smiled at Amelie, her eyes darted now and then to Daniel who lounged in a chair near the fireplace. He looked so huge in the small chair, and she wondered how the fragile piece didn't break under his weight.

“Are you?” Amelie inquired, not missing the secret glances her sister-in-law sent her husband or the openly covetous ones he cast her way. However, Philippe didn't seem to notice.