Midnight Flame Page 14

  “That man’s hurtin’. You ain’t told me what happened between you two, but I got eyes, and that man loves you. You love him, too.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Gincie finished brushing Laurel’s hair and stood back with the brush clutched in her hand. “If you was a little girl, I’d be tempted to use this here brush on your bottom. But you ain’t a little girl. You is a grown woman, Miss Laurel, and about high time you started actin’ like one.”

  “I don’t need you to chastise me.”

  Laurel whirled away from the mirror and sat down by a small table. In front of her was a tray the cook had prepared for her. Roasted duck with rice and a garden salad were there to tempt her, but Laurel only picked at the food. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, nor had she been able to eat lately. In fact she always felt nauseated, and Gincie was forced to go the kitchen to make a mint brew. Still, she couldn’t shake this sickish feeling, especially in the evenings.

  “You ain’t eatin’ again.” Gincie’s sharp eyes took in the uneaten food and the sudden whiteness of Laurel’s face. “You feel sick again, don’t you?”

  Laurel took a deep breath to keep the sick feeling at bay. “It will pass. It must be the aftereffects of my illness.”

  “Like hell it is. Don’t you know what’s ailin’ you, Miss Laurel? Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  Gincie’s probing caused a wave of alarm in Laurel. She didn’t want to think about what Gincie’s questions might mean. “I have a slight indisposition, that’s all.”

  “An indisposition that lasts nine months, and you know I’m right. I think you got the evenin’ sickness instead of the mornin’ sickness. You ain’t got your monthlies yet.”

  Laurel groaned and held her head in her hand. “Isn’t there anything about me you don’t know, Gincie?”

  Gincie came and touched her shoulder, and her voice was gentle.

  “You is my baby, Miss Laurel. You took the place of my little Annie who died when she was just a year old. I know as much about you as I did her, and myself. I know when you’re happy and when you’re scared and hurtin’. You is scared now. Did you tell Mr. Duvalier about the baby?”

  Laurel lifted her head. “No. There’s no reason to tell him anything. I might not be pregnant at all. This is none of his business.”

  “Ha! That man gets you in the family way, and it ain’t his business. Miss Laurel, what is wrong with you?”

  Grabbing one of Gincie’s work-worn hands, Laurel said, “Don’t mention any of this to Tony. Please.”

  “Don’t you want him to do the right thin’ and marry you?”

  How could she tell Gincie that the right thing wasn’t to marry her? If she was pregnant, the child wasn’t his. But Gincie could never know that.

  “He already asked to marry me, and I turned him down. Now forget about this. I can assure you I’m not having a baby. We have to leave for Texas tomorrow and have quite a lot to do.”

  Gincie started to say something else but didn’t. She didn’t like the warning look in Laurel’s eyes and had decided not to mention anything to Tony. But half an hour later Laurel had the worst case of evening sickness so far, and Gincie decided to find Tony Duvalier, even if she had to storm a house of ill repute to do it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The longer Gincie dwelled on Laurel’s problem, the more upset she grew. By the time Laurel drifted off to sleep, she was in a dither to find Tony. Convincing Tony’s groom to take her into town at nearly midnight was no easy task, but she made the job easier by giving him a small butterfly brooch that Laurel had given her as a birthday gift. She hated parting with the piece of jewelry, but if it insured Laurel’s happiness, Gincie was content.

  However, by the time they reached Washington, the opera house was closed. Picard, the groom, even went to a brothel on the edge of town, but Tony wasn’t there. By now, Gincie was filled with panic that she would never find Tony before the stage left at noon. Then she remembered Jean DuLac, and within minutes she was waiting on the porch of the white-columned house in the center of town.

  A dim light glowed in the parlor when a servant let her inside. To her delight she found that Jean was still awake and entertained a sweet-faced young man. At her appearance in the doorway, he stood up and asked her what she was doing there. After a few hesitant starts, Gincie whispered in Jean’s ear that she needed to find Mr. Duvalier.

  “Is Miss Delaney in some sort of trouble?” he asked.

  “The biggest trouble a lady can get herself in,” she answered.

  Jean realized the gravity of the situation immediately and told her he would have Tony home long before the noon departure.

  But that wasn’t as easy to do as Jean had originally figured. He went to Tony’s usual haunts in town, but he was nowhere to be found. Then he took his horse and rode in the opposite direction, away from Washington, to Clermont, home of the Lanciers.

  A sleepy servant answered his summons, and within minutes Simone rushed down the stairs, a thin wrapper clasped to her voluptuous body. Her golden hair hung down her back like sunlight, and Jean couldn’t help but appreciate what an angelic-appearing beauty she was.

  However, when she spoke, her shrewish voice broke the image. “What is the matter, Jean? I was sound asleep. My father has been ill, and you’re here in the middle of the night. In need of some company? Well, I’m not to your taste.”

  Simone smirked, and Jean managed a tight laugh. “I’m looking for Tony. Have you seen him?”

  “After the way he has treated me since that American trollop has been under his roof? You’re mad to think that I’d even speak to him. Did she send you here? Is that why you’re here? You’re so enamored of the little witch that maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  Jean held up a restraining hand. “There’s no need to get nasty, Simone. I have to find him as soon as possible. If you see him, tell him that he is wanted at home immediately.”

  Simone nodded she would, then went upstairs after Jean’s departure. Such a simple request, she thought. But one she would never deliver. Stepping into her bedroom, the soft glow of the candle by her bedside illumined Tony’s large frame, spread-eagled across her bed. She stopped to admire the broadness of his shoulders, the thick pelt of hair on his chest as it tapered to his waist, only to disappear and then bush out across the area of his body that had always held such fascination for her. What a man!

  Her hand snaked out, and her fingers gently stroked his naked thigh, feeling the soft hairs on his leg tickle her flesh. Then the exploring trail led to that part of him she wanted to drive deep into her own body, to know again the delights of being Tony’s woman. Her hand grasped it, enfolding it in a soft but firm caress. Almost miraculously she felt the stiffening of his shaft in her hand, and knew that he was hers, that she could do anything she wanted with him. Tony had arrived earlier in a drunken stupor and attempted to make love to her, only to fall asleep soon after he had undressed. She had spent the last two hours waiting for him to wake up and claim her. And now was the moment for which she had waited.

  “Tony, mon amour’’, she whispered. “I am ready for you.”

  For a brief instant he lifted his head. “Laurel?” His eyes fastened on Simone. “You’re not Laurel.” Then his head hit the pillow, and he began to snore.

  The object that Simone so coveted fell limply in her hand.

  ~

  Laurel’s trunks were already in the stagecoach when Jean found her moments before departure.

  “Please wait until Tony can be located before leaving,” he implored.

  Jean appeared so helpless and boy-like with his light blond hair glinting in the sunlight that Laurel almost wished she could grant him this favor and wait for Tony. But she couldn’t. There was nothing else to say to him, and she wouldn’t tell him about the baby. She wasn’t certain if Jean tried to prevent her from leaving out of a sense of loyalty to Tony or if he somehow had guessed she was pregnant. Either way, it didn’t matter any longer.
Soon, Tony Duvalier would be out of her life completely as was the man who had captured her heart in the bayou cabin.

  “Give Tony my regards,” Laurel told Jean before kissing him on the cheek. She stepped into the Wells Fargo stagecoach as Gincie lumbered in beside her with a worried look in her eyes. With a crack of the whip, the horses started into action, and soon the stagecoach, which contained three other passengers besides Laurel and Gincie, sped down Grand Prairie Road.

  “You’re makin’ a bad mistake, Miss Laurel,” Gincie bemoaned.

  “Well, it’s my mistake to make,” Laurel said sharply and dismissed the ache that gnawed at her soul. She would have to raise her child alone, but she was better off than many women in her circumstances, she found herself thinking. At least she was wealthy and could give the child all the love she possessed and material wealth. However, a father was something her baby would simply have to do without. She dreaded the thought that society might ostracize her child and they would both have to deal with that fact of life. The path she had set for herself and the life she carried within her would be rocky and hard, and she prayed they would survive. Still a part of Laurel wished she had accepted Tony’s proposal. Things would have been so much simpler. But he didn’t know she carried the child of the man who had kidnapped her, and if he did, would he still have wanted to marry her?

  Laurel shook her head to stop the whirling thoughts and patted Gincie’s hand. “We’ll be fine, Gincie. Wait and see.”

  “I hope so, Miss Laurel,” Gincie said with a catch in her voice. “For your sake, I do hope so.”

  ~

  The afternoon sunlight spilled onto the bed, waking Tony with its brightness. He sat up slowly, trying to orient himself to his surroundings. A porcelain clock on the mantel chimed the noon hour, and he realized he was in Simone’s bedroom, ensconced in her bed with a thin sheet to cover his naked body. He groaned.

  How in the hell had he gotten here? He didn’t remember anything about the previous night. He had left the house about eight, gone to Plonsky’s Opera House for half an hour before making his way to the local saloon, quickly downing three bourbons and countless whiskeys. After that, he recalled nothing. And Simone, where was she? he asked himself and started to get up to dress, but a dull headache prevented him from moving too quickly.

  From down the hall he heard the faint tinkle of the bell Monsieur Lancier used to summon the servants. He wondered if he should look in on the old man but dismissed the idea. He doubted the very stern and strict Pierre Lancier would wish to know that his daughter had bedded a man in his home. Of course Tony and Simone had made love many times in this room, but that had been when Simone thought they would be married, and her father was too ill to notice Tony’s comings and goings.

  Tony sighed and slipped out of bed just as Simone entered the room. His nakedness brought a sly smile to her mouth, and she licked her lips at such an enticing and arousing sight. Tony grudgingly admitted that she looked quite pretty in a simple blue-and-white frock with a slip of lace at the low neckline. With the sun shining on her golden hair, Simone resembled an angelic being. But Simone was far from being a saint.

  “I trust you slept well,” she said with a smile, but he heard a slight edge to her voice.

  “Like a rock, Simone. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Tony began pulling on his discarded pants, trying not to give in to the pounding of his head and lie back down on the soft bed. He had to return to Petit Coteau. He wasn’t certain why. Most probably Laurel wouldn’t even leave her room, but he liked knowing she was nearby and that at any moment she would appear to brighten his day. However, since she had rejected him, his days and nights had been less than bright.

  Simone walked over to him after she had picked up his shirt, drawn by the sight of his powerful chest. She splayed her fingers over the fur-planed expanse and lifted her ruby-colored mouth to his.

  “You don’t have to leave so soon Tony. Stay and have something to eat. I know you must be hungry after last night.”

  A giggle escaped her, and Tony’s eyes narrowed.

  “Nothing happened last night.”

  “You slept in my bed, chéri.”

  Tony shrugged and grabbed the shirt, his muscles flexing as he slipped into the silken garment. “That doesn’t mean a thing, Simone. You know I was too drunk last night to do anything other than sleep. I might have been very drunk and don’t recall a thing, but I know for a fact that I was unable to make love to you.”

  Simone’s eyes shot blue slivers in his direction. “What makes you so sure nothing happened, Tony? Am I not woman enough for you any longer? Or perhaps you are less than a man.”

  Tony laughed and buttoned his shirt before sitting on the side of the bed and pulling on his boots.

  “Let’s stop playing games. Both of us know how we used to be together, and I don’t have to prove anything to you about my manhood. And you are quite a woman, Simone, but things are different now.”

  “Because I’m not Laurel,” Simone grumbled.

  Tony’s dark brows rose a fraction of an inch. He stood up and grabbed his jacket.

  “I’ll leave now, and believe me, I won’t be back. My apologies for last night. If things had been different-”

  “Don’t apologize!” Simone interrupted. “You insult me with your feeble apology. I cared for you once, and you’ve cast me aside for a woman who makes you miserable. And you are miserable. Why else would you get so stinking drunk that you really don’t know if we slept together or not? I pity you.”

  Simone stung Tony with her criticism, and he couldn’t deny her words. He was miserable. Though he knew she didn’t truly care for him, he felt badly about his callous treatment of her. Simone was a promiscuous bitch, but she had provided him with moments of ecstasy in the past. He grabbed the doorknob, yanking open the large oak door, and gave her a smile.

  “You’re quite correct that I am miserable. I only hope that you never feel the pain I’m experiencing right now.”

  His broad back filled the doorway, then he was gone. Simone trembled and clasped her arms around her waist. Already she felt pain at his polite dismissal of her affections. Granted, she had never loved Tony, but she did covet his wealth and his perfect male body. She thought they could have made a perfectly acceptable marriage. Her father’s illness had drained their money, and she knew that when he died she would have to sell the plantation to pay off the bills, plus her own extravagances. She would have precious little to live on then, and all because of Tony Duvalier and his Laurel.

  She would never forgive Tony for not wanting her.

  “I’ll have you yet, Tony,” she whispered to the closed door. “And if I can’t, I shall make your life worse than miserable.”

  ~

  When Tony stopped his horse before the house half an hour later, Jean hurried outside and motioned furiously to him.

  “Where have you been, Tony? I’ve been searching for you since last night.”

  Tony glanced down into Jean’s flushed face. “Is something wrong with Laurel?” He made a move to get off the horse, but Jean stopped him.

  “She left on the noon coach for Texas.”

  “Oh,” was Tony’s only comment, feeling as if a tree had fallen on his chest. He felt unable to breathe.

  “Go after her,” Jean ordered.

  “Things are best this way.”

  “Laurel is enciente, Tony.”

  Jean’s words barely sunk into Tony’s brain. Laurel was having a child? Why hadn’t she told him? But then again, why should she tell him when she didn’t know the child she carried was his own.

  “Follow me in the buggy to bring Gincie back to the house. I’m going after the coach to get Laurel.” Tony spurred the horse around and stirred up dust as he galloped down the lane and onto Grand Prairie Road.

  ~

  Large trees shaded the road and offered a degree of coolness to the occupants in the cramped quarters of the coach. One of the women, who sat across
from Laurel, rested her chin on her ample bosom, already dozing. The woman’s husband read the daily newspaper, and the other woman traveler had begun to knit. Laurel wished she had something to keep her mind occupied. All she could think about was the man who had claimed her in the dark of night, a night she knew couldn’t be put behind her. She would soon have a living, breathing reminder of their brief passionate encounter.

  And she couldn’t forget Tony Duvalier, try as she might. Leaning her head against the leather seat, she tried to stop the thoughts swarming in her mind like honey bees. The swaying and jostling of the coach soon lulled her into a light sleep, and she was jarred awake by Gincie clasping her hand, followed by the sudden stopping of the coach.

  Outside she heard voices, and a sense of déjà vu filled her. She had been kidnapped from a coach once before. Could it be him?

  “It’s Mister Tony,” Gincie said in disbelief, but her lips turned upward into a delighted smile.

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” Laurel asked in a frantic whisper.

  “Ain’t sayin’ I did and ain’t sayin’ I didn’t.” Gincie resolutely folded her arms across her chest. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll marry that man.”

  Laurel peered out the window, aware of the curious gazes of the coach’s occupants when Tony slid from his horse to open the coach door.

  “I want to talk to you, Laurel,” he told her and held out his hand for her to take.

  Her first instinct was to refuse, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. She extended her hand to his, and he helped her out of the coach.

  “I ain’t got all day,” the driver mumbled to them. Tony nodded and drew Laurel away from everyone’s prying eyes to a shaded cluster of trees on the side of the road. He stared down at her, a dark angry look on his face. Laurel didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a challenging one of her own.

  “You have your nerve to pull me off the stage, Tony. The driver has a schedule to meet.”

  “To hell with his schedule! You’re running away from me.”