Tainted Lilies (8 page)

Champagne corks went off like a volley of artillery fire from one end of the beach to the other. Laffite filled two silver goblets, offering one to Nikki. She accepted it gratefully.

“Being married is thirsty business!” she said, laughing as her new husband tried to catch the bubbles streaming from the bottle’s neck with his tongue.

“Aye, that it is!” he answered, upending the bottle to restrain the overflow. “And likely to get thirstier before the night’s over, my love!”

He winked at her and Nicolette looked away, shy with him suddenly.

She drank slowly, letting the bursting bubbles tickle her upper lip and thinking that the sparkle of the wine reminded her of Laffite’s kisses. As if he read her thoughts, he leaned close every few minutes to taste her champagne-flavored lips, all the while keeping a possessive arm about her.

They sat far back from the leaping flames and prying eyes. After they had feasted and drunk their fill, Laffite turned his full attention to his bride. Gently, he caressed her breasts, slowly teasing her nipples with his fingers until they stood rigid, straining at the fabric of her gown.

Nicolette found herself longing to have him carry her away—to hide her somewhere dark and private so that they could block out the rest of the world. She was ready for him to show her things, tell her things, and help her explore the sweet world of the unknown, as he had promised.

The night wore on in a dizzying haze of celebration. The sailors proved a talented lot, providing music for dancing on fiddle, hornpipe, and turtle-shell drums. The men and women whirled and jigged about the fires, creating a picture vivid as a kaleidoscope. Nicolette watched, amazed, when she saw her aunt join the dancers on Reyne Beluche’s arm.

“God’s blood! Would you look at the old man!” Laffite shouted. “Well, you won’t outdo the bridegroom on his wedding night, uncle!” He tugged at Nicolette. “Come on, darling. Let’s show them!”

A moment later, Nicolette found herself dancing around the fire, her bare feet flying over the shifting sands. Her heart pounded with a joyous rhythm and her head felt light as a cobweb in a summer breeze.

“Faster, Nikki, faster!” Laffite urged, whirling her until the whole world became a spinning top.

The music accelerated with their motion and the clapping of hands matched the fierce coursing of their blood. When she felt she would drop, Laffite lifted his bride off the ground and swept her on, a limp doll in his arms.

“Mon Dieu!”
he whispered in gasping syllables. “I see why the wild Africans dance so frantically at wedding ceremonies. It fires the blood like nothing else. Right now I want you so I could die from it, Nikki! I want to feel you naked beneath me. I want to kiss you, taste you, drown in you!”

His words set her aflame. Never had she thought any man would say such things to her—or that she would welcome hearing them.

When the music crashed to a finish, Laffite still held her to him. For an instant, Nicolette thought he would take her there on the beach in front of everyone. His eyes flashed green fire into hers and a vein pulsed erratically in his neck. Through her thin skirt, she could feel another throb between his muscled thighs.

Her feet still missed the ground by several inches. Slowly, he let her slip down his body, her breasts sliding over the planes of his heaving chest. His eyes held hers—speaking silent words of passion and longing that made her shiver and feel faint just looking at him.

“No, Jean!” She thought she spoke the words, but couldn’t be sure she had really said them aloud.

His face came down suddenly, but missed her lips. Instead, they found the sweet valley between her breasts. Nicolette closed her eyes, moaning softly, and let her head fall back as if she were in a swoon. His urgent tongue fluttered against her bare flesh.

“Well, brother! It seems I got back just in time for the most interesting part of the festivities.”

Jean Laffite jerked his head up, gave Nicolette a confused look, then turned toward his brother Pierre. He offered him a sheepish grin.

“Not a minute too soon! I’m afraid I might have embarrassed my bride terribly if you hadn’t interrupted.”

“Bride? By damn! I never thought I’d see the day again. Thought you’d sworn off. But congratulations! And you, too, madame.” Pierre bowed to his new sister-in-law, but she noticed a momentary frown cross his face.

“This is Nicolette Vernet… I mean
Laffite,
Pierre.”

The frown intensified. “I guessed as much, but hoped otherwise. We have to talk, Jean.”

“Come sit with us, then,” Laffite offered.

“Dear sister,” Pierre said, kissing Nikki’s hand, “some things are better discussed in private, if you’ll allow us a moment.”

“Of course,” she answered, going back to the blanket.

She sat watching the two brothers. Though Jean was taller by several inches, he and Pierre could almost have been twins, they looked so much alike. Pierre did show his two years’ seniority, but it seemed more due to a lack of grooming and a love of rum and fast living, than age. Pierre looked, she decided, quite rumpled from overuse.

Their voices grew louder and she keened an ear to catch what they were saying.

Jean, angrily: “We’re married, I tell you, even if this broomstick ceremony isn’t legal or sanctioned by the Church!”

Pierre, placatingly: “I’m not questioning that. I’m merely trying to warn you that Nicolette’s father is out for blood. I heard about your trouble with Browne. Some of Gambi’s henchmen were in New Orleans just last week, spreading the word that you’re the one who attacked that ship. Monsieur Vernet has sworn to get troops down here, if he has to, to return his daughter home. Seems another man is waiting at the altar for her.”

They turned away from her and Nicolette could hear no more. She picked at the rest of the roast pork on her plate to do something with her nervous hands until Jean returned. But she found she couldn’t swallow it. The lump in her throat after hearing her father mentioned was too large.

What am I going to do? she wondered. I can’t let Papa fight Jean!

The brothers Laffite turned back toward Nicolette and she watched them change their expressions, forcibly, from deep concern to the joviality due the occasion. They walked to where she sat, their strides equally long and fluid—like two jungle predators stalking, she thought to herself.

Pierre reached down for her hand. “My dear sister,” he said, “I’m sorry if I didn’t welcome you properly. It’s only that I know my little brother so well and I do hate to hear that such a pretty maid will be saddled with him for the rest of her days.” He winked at her. “Now my advice to you is to keep a fat cypress knee handy to clout him a good one over his thick skull when he’s pulled too long on the bottle. Then, too, you’ll need a trusty pistol to keep under your pillow so you can get some sleep from time to time. Just remember that you have a big brother to protect you now. I’ve got a good, broad shoulder just right for pretty eyes to cry into. Jean Laffite, so some say, was sired by an alligator and suckled by a polecat. To my way of thinking, that makes my brother a born and bred alii cat! You’re too good for him, Nikki! Back out of this marriage while there’s still time!”

Nicolette caught the barely disguised mirth and winked back at Pierre. Her first mistrust of him had turned into true liking.

“Mind, now, Nicolette. If he tries anything funny tonight, you just come running to Brother Pierre. I know how to treat a lady!”

“Why, you no good, philandering whoremong—” Jean Laffite caught himself abruptly, remembering his promise to Nikki. “You bastard!” he quickly substituted. “Get away from my bride and quit filling her head full of your foul-mouthed lies! You might remember, too, that you and I
are full
brothers. Whatever names you put to my parentage apply to you as well!”

Pierre laughed aloud and said, “If you young people ‘ will excuse me, I’m going to put these old, bastard alli cat bones to bed. See you in the morning.”

He glanced down and saw his brother tasting his new bride’s lips with some urgency. Pierre chuckled softly. They’d already forgotten he was there.

“Then again, maybe I won’t see you two in the morning,” he said, and left them to their rapture.

Fires were dying down by now, and the men and women had paired off, finding sheltered spots under the oaks at the beach’s edge where they could enjoy each other in private. Nicolette became aware of groans and sighs of passion drifting from the shadows. A new kind of tension filled the night. She could feel it tingling through her husband and touching her own body.

“Nikki,” Jean whispered, sliding one hand up to cup her warm breast. “We can go now. No one will miss us.”

Silently, she rose and walked with him through the silvery moonlight back to the mansion. With every step she took, Nicolette Vernet Laffite felt herself passing out of her old life and into some new realm where none of her carefully learned rules applied. She could almost hear doors closing behind her—feel bonds breaking, never to be woven back together.

“We’re home,” she heard him say, and the words held new meaning for her.

“Yes, home, my darling,” she answered.

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her up the steps and across the threshold, pulling the door shut behind them.

The bang of the frame seemed almost symbolic to Nicolette—locking the world out. She snuggled her cheek against his neck.

She hadn’t lost anything by closing that door on the years and her past. She had gained the one thing a woman longed for more than anything else in life—a man she could truly love.

“I’ll give you some time to get ready,” Jean said, leaving Nikki at the door to the bedroom with the feel of his kisses still warming her lips.

Nicolette watched her new husband walk away down the hall, then felt Sukey tugging at her arm.

“Hurry now, Mam’zelle Nikki. The Boss, he won’t be patient tonight!”

Sukey took her time, though, in spite of Nicolette’s own desire to hurry. She bathed her mistress, powdered her clean body, brushed her hair until it gleamed like spun silk. Then when Nicolette stood naked, ready for Sukey to slip the filmy gown over her head, the servant instead brought forth a silver and crystal flacon of perfume. Sukey removed the frosted stopper and the scent of lilies of the valley filled the room.

“Now you stand right still, Mam’zelle Nikki, while I do like M’sieu Boss done told me.”

Nicolette watched as Sukey dipped the stopper into the bottle’s neck, then dabbed perfume in odd places—between her breasts, along her hairline, into the dimples in her shoulders, behind her knees, and finally at the base of her smooth, white belly, making Nicolette quiver.

“That’s fine,
mon enfante.
Now you lie down and I’ll tell the Boss you ready for him,” Sukey said, arranging the ecru folds of her gown so that the medallions of Alençon lace covered strategic parts of her body enticingly.

After the servant left, Nicolette lay in the flickering candlelight, which cast fantasy shadows about the walls, thinking she must be trapped in a fairyland region somewhere between earth and sky. She sipped at the sweet red wine Jean had sent to refresh her and listened to her own quiet breathing in the stillness. His last kiss still lingered on her lips, its aftertaste making her long for more.

Laffite didn’t knock. The door opened suddenly and he was there. He gazed down at her, his face shining with love. His hair, still damp from his bath, was pushed back at the nape of his neck. She could see the heave of his chest as he breathed in the scent of her. The dark hair in the V-opening of his burgundy satin robe glistened with tiny diamonds of moisture. The picture he made caused Nicolette new stirrings more intense than she had yet known.

He sat next to her on the edge of the bed and his robe fell open, revealing ropelike muscles in his tanned thighs. She gazed, transfixed, longing but not daring to reach out and touch him.

He poured himself a glass of wine and raised it in salute. “To us,” he said, then downed it. The next instant, he bent to cover her lips. He shared his wine, letting it flow slowly from his mouth into hers. Nicolette drank with a new kind of thirst—her mouth, her lips, her tongue, warming to him.

When he tried to raise his head and she held him fast with arms about his neck, he pulled away and forced her to lie back.

“Don’t move, darling. I want you just as you are right now,” he commanded.

She had no idea what he had in mind, but she obeyed. His eyes locked their gaze to hers, making her feel he could see inside her deepest, most secret thoughts. She lay motionless, mesmerized, ready to do his bidding.

She watched his strong hands move to her cheeks. His finely molded fingers traced her forehead, her brows, her cheekbones, finally finding her lips and teasing them ever so gently. It seemed that by touching each part of her he proclaimed that portion his.

Slowly, his fingertips followed an invisible line down her neck. The low-cut gown cupped her breasts in lace, offering little resistance to his exploration. When he slipped one breast out of its hiding place and circled the nipple with his thumb, Nicolette moaned slightly and trembled.

“Easy, darling,” he whispered against her ear. “We have all the time in the world, and I have so many things I want to show you. Just relax… enjoy.”

Nicolette opened her eyes again and looked into his face. His smile for her was so tender, so all-consuming in its love. She forced herself to lie perfectly still, allowing him full use of her body.

He uncovered the other breast and fondled it lovingly. Her breath came in short bursts. It seemed to her that the nerves there must be connected to other parts of her body, which twitched and burned longingly, though he had yet to lay a hand on them.

“You like that, Nikki?” he asked, smiling down at her. When she couldn’t answer, he said, “Never mind. I can tell.”

His head came down to her breast and suddenly a burst of hot flame kindled in her blood as she felt him suckling, his tongue teasing. She twisted her fingers through his hair, giving a small, involuntary cry—his name.

“I’m here, my love,” he answered, then kissed her lips with a new fierceness.

She lay shaken, her blood scalding her veins, when he released her. She wanted… wanted what? Nothing in her upbringing or past experiences had prepared her for this moment. She pleaded silently with her eyes. He read them and understood.

“I’m as anxious as you, Nikki,” he said, stroking her .bare shoulder, “but it takes a woman longer to know fulfillment. I won’t cheat you on our wedding night—or ever, my darling.”

He slid her gown up to expose her feet and legs. Tenderly, he massaged her toes, her ankles, and on up, murmuring endearments all the while.

It seemed to Nicolette that time stood still. She lay suspended now somewhere between the silver-lined clouds of heaven and the fiery-tongued depths of hell. The unknown he had promised to show her was like nothing she had ever dreamed of. Did all women know these exotic, life-giving, soul-wrenching regions? If so, why did they keep these marvelous secrets to themselves?

Her thoughts jerked back when she felt his hot breath on her bare thighs. Her nightgown now lay in folds about her waist. She gazed down at her hips and the tuft of dark curls covering that part of her which craved his touch most. She held her breath… closed her eyes… waited.

When one finger brushed the unnamed spot, Nicolette shivered, then purred. The sensation was so exquisite she never wanted it to end. She began breathing deeply, feeling the beginning and the bittersweet end of something about to wash over her.

When Laffite moved away abruptly, her eyes shot open. He must have read the anguish on her face.

“I know what you want, darling. I won’t disappoint you. Trust me. A little longer and the moment will be that much sweeter.”

He moved back beside her again. As his fingers found her magic spot once more, he pressed his lips down over hers. His free hand manipulated first one taut nipple and then the other. Nicolette’s entire body felt as if it were in a bath so scalding that it carried her past the point of pain to some nebulous region beyond, where suffering was miraculously transformed into ecstasy.

Her eyes tightly shut now, she witnessed a starburst in the darkness of her mind. Cold sparks chilled her legs to numbness then turned them to fire. The flames fed on her flesh, racing upward until they flooded her belly, her breasts, her face. She arched her back, thrusting at his fingers, and cried into his open mouth. She rode a blissful wave in a storm-tossed sea for what seemed an eternity. Then, ever so slowly, the tide of emotion-packed sensations ebbed, leaving behind a star-strewn path in her mind which tingled and warmed and made her body feel more alive than it ever had been in her life.

“Jean, darling, lover, sweetheart!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “What have you done to me?”

“I’ve only shown you what you were born to know, my sweet. What you will know for as long as you love me.”

“I do love you! I always will!”

“Always is a long time, Nikki,” he said solemnly. “But not half as long as I’ll love you.”

He pressed her back on the pillows and rose from the bed. By the first tints of the golden dawn outside the window, she watched as the robe fell away from his dark silhouette. His strong, erect phallus pulsed with a life all its own. She felt a sudden cringe of fear at the sight of it. But that soon faded. She understood his need. She longed to satisfy him.

He came to her waiting arms and whispered, “Love me, Nikki, please. I need you!”

Nicolette caught her breath at his first thrust and the pain it caused. She cried out in spite of herself. For a moment, Laffite, stunned to find her still virginal, withdrew.

Nicolette held perfectly still for a time, then said, “Please. I’m all right now.”

“You’re more than all right, darling,” he said, easing back into her. “You’re wonderful!”

He gave an expert, rapier-sharp thrust then. The pain was over so quickly that Nicolette had only time for a small exclamation before more pleasant sensations overcame her. She marveled at this new feeling of being totally, lovingly filled with his strength and passion. She picked up his rhythm automatically, and as she felt his strong body tense over hers, she tightened muscles she never knew she had. At that instant, a fountain of heat erupted inside her. She heard Jean’s groan of sheer ecstasy, felt his body quiver, then relax. A new wave of pleasure and happiness engulfed her. They were one!

“Oh, my sweet Nikki!” he whispered as he settled for sleep, surrounding her fragrant warmth with possessive arms.

Nicolette came partially awake in the yellow haze of noon. Her body ached in a wonderful way. She stretched her arms over her head, wiggled her toes, arched her back.

How lovely it is to be alive! she thought.

She turned to reach for her lover, but the bed was empty. Probably nature’s call, she speculated, surprised at herself for thinking of such private matters.

Then voices reached her from the dressing room beyond. She heard Jean say, “But I hadn’t planned another auction at The Temple until June at the earliest.”

Dominique Youx’s heavily accented voice answered, “I know, Boss, but Gambi brought the
Philantrope
in last night after we left the beach. I’m not for doin’ the sonuvabitch any favors either, but he’s got two hundred prime slaves from the Cuban market stacked in that hold. There’s no room left in the barracoons on Grand Isle. We can’t leave a cargo like that packed in that stinking ship. They’ll die on us. Gambi says he paid three hundred a head in Havana. They’ll bring two, three thousand each at auction to the planters. Not a bad profit if we move fast.
N’ est-ce pas?”

“Goddammit, Dom! I just got married! I want some peace and quiet. Why does Gambi do things like this? Doesn’t he recognize the position this puts me in? That warrant for me and Pierre is still hanging over our heads. If we advertise an auction at The Temple before that arrest order expires, Claiborne will send troops down the bayou for sure.”

“Maybe that’s what Gambi’s figured. Boss. My guess is it’s a trap he plans to spring. With you out of the way, the bastard could take over Grande Terre without a single swing of his bloody broad-axe.”

Nicolette strained to hear more, but only tense mumblings greeted her ears for several minutes. She could make little sense out of what the men were saying. She listened more closely when she heard Laffite swear under his breath.

“We’ll just see about that, Dom! Set the auction for three days from now. We won’t put up broadsides in New Orleans this time. I’ll send Raymond Ranchier to the city in the courier pirogue. With our strongest slaves at the oars, he can make the trip in a little more than twenty-four hours. I’ll have him contact Joseph Sauvinet and John Blanque quietly and then, in turn, they can tell the planters who are interested in buying. That way, we won’t have every sightseer and gossip in New Orleans spreading the word just to make it a day’s outing. With luck, we’ll have the lot of them sold in a couple of hours and be back on our way to Grande Terre before Governor Claiborne and his militia get wind of what’s happening. Oh, and, Dom, we’ll need armed guards posted from Lake Salvador north to the river just in case we have uninvited visitors.”

“Right, Boss. What about her?”

Nicolette leaned toward the voices to catch the answer. There was another long pause.

“I’m taking her with me. “

“It’ll be a rough trip.”

“Nikki can take it. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Nicolette smiled at her husband’s words.

“But, Boss, what if someone spots her?”

“Doesn’t matter. Pierre told me last night that Monsieur Vernet already knows she’s here… another thing we have Vincent Gambi to thank for! I’ll keep her hidden in the cabin while we’re there. Nothing will happen.”

Nicolette could almost see Dominique Youx’s familiar shrug as he answered, “You’re the Boss!”

“Damn right I am!”

When she heard Jean’s footsteps approaching the door, Nicolette snuggled back amid the plump pillows and fixed a pretty smile on her face. But her husband wasn’t smiling when he entered.

“Darling?” She stretched out her arms to him.

His eyes traveled over her and his expression mellowed perceptibly. But he didn’t accept her unspoken invitation to return to their bed. Instead, he threw off his robe, exposing his powerful nakedness to her eyes for the first time in the bright light of day.

Nicolette tried to look away, but these mysteries, revealed in such sharp and magnificent detail, entranced her. She winced at the sight of a deep dimple in his left side just above his hip bone—an old bullet wound. Paler scars on his chest and arms proved that other men’s rapiers had on occasion drawn blood during his many duels. But the ugly scars only worked as contrast to make the rest of his body seem all the more Olympian.

“Ma chère,
I’m afraid our honeymoon is about to be rudely interrupted,” he said, pulling on canvas britches. “We have to leave shortly for The Temple.”

“The Temple?” she asked, thinking that she had heard of the place, but not sure where it was.

“It’s about halfway between here and New Orleans. We’ll have to travel up Bayou Barataria by pirogue to the point where it meets Bayou Pierrot at Little Lake.”

“Why, that’s the middle of the swamp!” Nicolette gasped. “What’s there?”

He smiled to reassure her, saying, “It’s not all that bad, sweetheart. You may even find you enjoy the uniqueness of the area. The Temple itself is a
chênieère,
an ancient Indian shell mound—high and dry. I have a small cottage there where you’ll be comfortable. The trip will take less than two days, but we won’t be there long. A quick morning auction and then we’ll be on our way home again—safe and sound.”