Emerald Ecstasy (44 page)

“You're brazen,
querida
. Don't become a slave to your own arrogance.”

“I'd never do that, Raoul. I need no other slave but you.”

She knew she had gone too far when he whispered harshly, “When we get home we shall see just who is the slave.”

Lianne had the good grace to blush. Though she hated Raoul, she admitted to herself that she was entrapped by her own base desires in his arms at night. She needed someone to hold her, and since Raoul was the one who had destroyed her happiness, she took her pleasures from him like a greedy wanton. She let out a long sigh.

“I look forward to it,
chérie
,” she said with a frozen smile.

He stiffened, and she knew he would have said more, but Daniel looked in their direction and casually sauntered over to them with Isabelle's arms wrapped around him like an octopus holding its prey.

When the couple stopped before Lianne and Raoul, Lianne immediately smelled whiskey and knew Daniel had been drinking heavily. However, no one would have guessed he was inebriated. He bowed and, with a touch which burned Lianne's flesh, kissed her hand.

The hot light which flared in his eyes was the response she needed to know the gown had worked. Daniel wanted her. He did! Did he still love her? Could he hear the beating of her heart?

Daniel's dark head tilted toward Isabelle, and he flashed them a dazzling smile. “Dona Lianne, you've captured the men with your beauty. I know your husband appreciates such a beautiful wife. I know that for a fact.”

Did his voice harden just a bit, or did she imagine it? Was Daniel jealous to remember the night at San Augustin de las Cuevas? If so, then he must love her. Hope rose within her. She managed to smile at Isabelle and knew that if she wanted, she could take Daniel from the dark-haired woman with no trouble.

“I'm grateful to you, Raoul, for putting in an appearance tonight,” Daniel said. “I believe you shall be most astonished by my work.”

Raoul surveyed the handsome figure Daniel made in a buff-colored satin jacket and breeches which emphasized his tanned good looks. He clutched Lianne's elbow tighter. “I doubt that. In your present state of drunkenness, I'd be surprised if you could sketch a pear correctly.”

A low laugh escaped Daniel, and he hugged Isabelle closer. “I'm a man of many talents, Raoul.” His eyes rested on Lianne's beautiful face for a second. “As Lianne can attest.”

Lianne's emerald orbs met Daniel's ocean-gray ones. She imagined for a moment she saw pain there, but she was forced to look away when Isabelle turned her face up to Daniel's and kissed his lips. “Daniel is a man of much ‘insatiable' talent,” she said when she allowed him to draw breath again.

Lianne wanted to scratch the woman's face to shreds, but was prevented by Raoul's restraining grip on her elbow. Manuel Tolsa came forward then and whispered to Daniel that it was time for the showing to begin. Daniel nodded and flashed his smile again. “I believe you both shall be interested in the unveiling of my new work.”

Reluctantly Lianne and Raoul followed Daniel and Isabelle into a huge room where a platform was set up. On the platform stood a large painting, covered by a white cloth. Daniel detached Isabelle's arms from him and Lianne watched as he bounded onto the platform.

She stood close to the front and didn't miss Manuel, who stood next to her, mouth to Daniel, “Are you sure?” Nor did she miss Daniel's slow nod or the sidelong glance Manuel shot in her direction.

Manuel sighed and nodded his head. Lianne wondered what was happening, knew somehow that this concerned her. It wasn't until the applause for Daniel diminished in the room after he thanked everyone for coming that a sense of foreboding filled her. During the whole speech Daniel had watched her like a cat who will soon swallow a bird.

She began to tug at Raoul's coat sleeve, to tell him she wanted to leave, but at that instant Daniel turned toward the painting and pulled the cloth from it.

“I call this painting ‘The Beautiful Wanton,'” he told the audience.

Large gasps echoed throughout the room as all eyes focused on the canvas. Lianne blinked, unable to believe what she saw. She felt faint when the room swung around her, but she didn't fall. She clutched at Raoul's arm and willed herself to stand tall. No one must know her heart was breaking anew. No one must guess she wished to crawl into the floor and die. She was used to people's eyes on her when she performed, but never in her life had she felt like an insect under a microscope. Snickers and some laughs came to her ears, but she pretended not to hear them.

Her eyes moved slowly from the painting to Daniel. Though she attempted to hide her shock, her face was ashen, her lips pale. She wondered how he could do this to her, how he could freely humiliate her like this. Didn't what she felt for him, and what he had once felt for her, mean anything?

Daniel watched her, unable to take his eyes from her, but whatever he had hoped to see in her face must have been absent. Suddenly he didn't seem as thrilled with himself as he had moments earlier.

Raoul's reaction surprised Lianne. She half-expected him to rush onto the stage and challenge Daniel for this humiliation. She sensed he wanted to by the way he gripped her arm so tightly it hurt. Clearly she saw his jaw tighten, but then as quickly, relax. He appraised the painting with a critical eye.

“Your painting is quite beautiful,” Raoul said in a loud clear voice for all to hear. “I'm certain you shall fetch a high price for it.”

“Don't you wish to purchase it, Don Raoul?” Daniel asked in a challenging tone.

Raoul shook his head. “I have no need of it. Why should I buy your painting when I have the woman who inspired it as my wife?”

Taking Lianne by the hand, Raoul bowed and they walked through the throng of people. She felt unable to look at any of them, but when Raoul whispered softly, “Smile,
querida
,” she did. It was only after they had left the building and settled in the coach that she gave rein to her emotions.

“How could he have done this to me?” she asked Raoul in a near-hysterical voice and made no attempt to still her trembling hands.

Raoul didn't reply, and this unnerved her almost as much as the unveiling. When they reached the house, she went to the bedroom. She undressed and climbed into bed and would have allowed herself the luxury of tears, but she resisted. Daniel's feelings were clear to her now. He truly hated her. There was no hope of winning him back. She wouldn't cry over a man who cared so little for her feelings that he'd paint a nude portrait of her for the whole of Mexico City to see. But without meaning to, she began to sob into her pillow.

Raoul sat on the patio outside the bedroom window. He heard Lianne's sobs through the open doorway and knew she cried because of Daniel Flanders. Would he ever find peace with Lianne as long as Daniel was alive? Daniel still loved her. Otherwise, he would not have taken such trouble to humble her. He rose after a few minutes, unable to stand the sound of her sobbing, and went to his study. He wrote a quick note to Diego and ordered a servant to deliver it. He knew Diego wouldn't be pleased to be disturbed so late at night. However, Raoul sensed the words on the paper would ease any discomfort Diego might initially feel.

Taking a cheroot from the leather case on his desk, he lit it and sat down. Raoul's pleasure with himself grew. Soon Lianne would stop pining over Daniel and grow to love him. After all, she seemed to like it when he made love to her and was an eager participant. He chastised himself for not taking the necessary steps sooner because Daniel was the father of Lianne's child. Well, he would ease Lianne's pain when he sent for the little girl. Once Lianne had her child with her, she would grow to love him. He convinced himself things would work out the way he planned. If Diego didn't botch things…

He wouldn't think about that. Instead he thought about the wonderful news he'd receive within the next few days—the news of Daniel's untimely death.

Soon Lianne would truly belong to him. Soon she'd tell him she loved him.

The next morning Daniel suffered from the worst headache he had ever had after a night of heavy drinking. He felt sluggish, unable to order his thoughts. However, he was grateful that Isabelle's maid hadn't yet tiptoed into the bedroom to pull the drapes. He didn't know if it was morning or afternoon. He didn't care.

When his brain began to clear and the headache abated, he remembered the exhibition. The memory of the stricken look on Lianne's face hit him like a thunderbolt. Now he knew why he felt so awful. He had consumed a large quantity of mezcal to forget the way she lifted herself to her full height, pretending the painting was unimportant. But he knew she was hurt, more than hurt. Lianne was disillusioned with him. Hell! he thought angrily. She had led him on, declared she loved him. Then he found her in bed with Raoul, responding to the man like the worst whore.

“I love you, Raoul.” Lianne's voice echoed in his mind, laced with passion, as he had heard it that night in San Augustin de las Cuevas. For the rest of his life, he'd hear her voice, remember the look of ecstasy on her face for Raoul.

Damn he was a fool!

Isabelle's soft breath fanned his shoulder. Looking down at her dark head pressed against his arm, feeling her voluptuous body against his, he knew he must forget Lianne. Isabelle would help him forget. He had to lose himself within her or go insane.

His hands traced the rounded fullness of her breasts. Isabelle gave a startled moan and opened her eyes.

“Daniel,” she said, groggy from sleep, “wasn't last night enough for you?”

“Don't deny me, Isabelle.” His voice was harsher than he intended.

She wrapped her arms around him and pushed her body upward so that it rested on top of him. “I never do,
mi amor
.”

And she never would. Daniel knew that. All he had to do was touch Isabelle and she melted. He knew she was slightly devious, but she didn't play games with him as Lianne had. He must forget, forget. Positioning her body so that her hips were level, he slipped into her without preliminary but she was ready for him. Within minutes her cry of ecstasy filled his ears and he spent himself within her.

Later, Isabelle got up and pulled open the drapes. “The day is beautiful, Daniel.” Her voice drifted to him from the other side of the room. “But the weather is too warm. Perhaps we should take a trip, leave the city for the remainder of the season. I have a house in the mountains, near Pachuca. Would you like to go?”

Pachuca. He remembered Raoul had a silver mine there. Lianne. Would he never stop thinking of her?

“That would be nice, Isabelle. When do you wish to leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“We'll leave tomorrow.” He patted the side of the bed next to him, and Isabelle laughed and came to him.

“You don't want me again,
mi amor
.”

He pulled her down to him, her dark hair falling across her shoulders. “I want you as often as I can have you.”

Isabelle pressed her lush breasts against his chest. “Then that shall be very, very often,” she said.

The deed was done. Raoul smiled to himself while he watched Lianne perform the next night. From his private box in the opera house, he drank in her incredible beauty with an eagerness he hadn't felt in years. To him, she was the only person on the stage. Her lovely, melodic voice drifted to him, mesmerizing him.

Soon the news of Daniel's death would reach them. He must pretend to be shocked, must console her when she learned Daniel was dead. Never must she know he arranged for the carriage to be waylaid on the road to Pachuca. He wasn't certain how Diego intended to kill Daniel Flanders, but he must never let Lianne know he had had a hand in it.

Well, he didn't kill the man, Raoul told himself. Just put the plan into motion. And Diego justified his position as the husband of his daughter. Of course, Raoul realized that Diego enjoyed torture, and he was assured by him that Daniel did indeed suffer before he collapsed. Raoul felt certain the authorities would decide banditti had killed Daniel, the driver and Isabelle.

Isabelle. That was the only part of the plan for which Raoul felt remorse. He never intended to harm her, but alas, she was with Daniel, and to make the job convincing, she had to die. Still, it grieved him in a heart which felt little grief, to think of the beautiful raven-haired Isabelle lying dead on the road in the hot sun. He hoped someone had come upon the bodies soon after Diego, who was dressed like a bandit, and the men who helped him, made their escape.

Raoul sighed about the unpredictability of life and turned his attention to Lianne on the stage.

Word of Isabelle Hidalgo's fate spread like wildfire throughout Mexico City. Lianne heard the news from Señor Dominguez just as she arrived at the theater two days later.

“A tragic loss,” the head of the opera company said and shook his head in dismay. “Señora Hidalgo was a bright spot in my audience. Many nights she came to the opera with the gentleman, the artist.”