Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (13 page)

"He does not
need
my shares—he is wealthy enough without them!" Micaela exclaimed exasperatedly. Her voice softened as she said, "I would do just about anything for you—you know that. You are my brother and I love you, but, François, you are being utterly selfish to expect me to throw away my life simply because it will be convenient for you—or good business!"

Bitterly François replied, "But Caela, you are not fair! I am not asking you to mary some decrepit, ugly old man—I am pleading with you to marry a man who is young and handsome and who will be one of the wealthiest, most influential citizens in New Orleans before many more years pass. What is so selfish about that?"

"Have you not heard a word I have said?
I do not want to marry him!
I do not even like him very much."

"But Caela, think of it! If you were to marry him, it would solve all of our problems." A wheedling note entered his voice. "And would it be so very bad? You would have your own home, servants to command, a handsome, doting husband. I have seen the way he looks at you—despite the way you treat him." There was a taut silence, then François added, "Are you very sure that his fortune does not tempt you?"

"Oui!"
Micaela spat. "Do you really expect me to marry a man I do not like simply because you wish it—for his
fortune?"

"But it is
not
just for me," he persisted stubbornly. "It is for Jean and
Maman
as well. Have you thought of them? You know that our finances are troubled at the moment, and that your refusal to marry him affects all of us, even
Maman."

"Unfair! You know that I would do anything for
Maman!"

"Then think of
her,"
François urged. "Think of her before you throw away an opportunity to enrich us all."

"Oh, leave me be!" Micaela cried, her distress carrying clearly to Hugh.

"But you will think about it?"

"I will think about it," she answered dully.

Deciding that he didn't want to be discovered shamelessly eavesdropping on what was an extremely intimate conversation, Hugh drifted away. His pleasant mood had been destroyed by what he had just overheard. And while he was not a vain man, he was certain that he could guess the identity of the man who had been the subject of the conversation between Micaela and François. It could be, he thought with a black scowl, none other than himself. He doubted that anyone else, other than himself, had been the object of Micaela's pointed little barbs. And her comments
had
always amused him... until now.

It never occurred to Hugh that the two younger Duprees might be talking about somebody else. Who else did she insult at every turn? Last night's exchange went through his head. And to think he had thought her enchanting! His lips thinned. Of course they had to have been talking about him. Aside from her manner toward him, who else could so easily solve all their problems? And as for the connection to the business... Hugh snorted. She had been right about that—he sure as hell didn't need her shares.

Despite having considered marriage with Micaela, the knowledge that she obviously did
not
want to marry him sat ill with him. In her conversation with her brother, she had made it plain that his wealth and position could not compensate for having to have him as a husband, and it rankled. It was one thing to think about marrying a woman who seemed to enjoy their stinging repartee and another to wed a female who had clearly expressed her obvious repugnance at the idea of marriage to him.
Mademoiselle
Dupree did not have to worry about any more advances on his part. The lady had made her position painfully clear, and he bloody well was not going to pine after a woman who disliked him.

Telling himself that he had escaped a near disaster, and that he would be on his guard for the rest of his stay, Hugh forced himself to smile at Jasper when he spied the other man coming toward him. And if Jasper noticed that his friend seemed unusually preoccupied, he kept that knowledge to himself.

As planned, dinner that evening was held al fresco in the gardens adjacent to the house. Tables had been set up outside near the house, brimstone was burned to keep the insects at bay and servants bustled about waiting on guests. The stately trees surrounding the area were strung with lanterns, and the soft light cast a glow over the meandering paths of the gardens, which were lined with scented flowers. But Hugh had no eye for the bucolic loveliness when, after dinner, he and Jasper joined several other guests and began to stroll through the lantern-strewn gardens.

An unaccustomed feeling of betrayal and resentment had been raging in his breast during the hours since he had overheard that damning conversation at the gazebo, and the passing time had not lessened it. But aside from his resentment, he was angry with himself for letting a pretty face blind him to the reality of the situation. Actually, he was furious that he had allowed Micaela to invade his dreams and disgusted with himself that he had considered, even for one moment, marriage with her.

Of course, he reminded himself viciously, staring blindly at the gardenia bushes awash with white blooms at the edge of the oyster-shell path, it wasn't as if the lady had given him any encouragement. She had made her dislike of him plain. Fool that he was, he had chosen to be amused, chosen to believe that there was something other than dislike which prompted her actions. Grimly he admitted that he had allowed himself to be captivated by her tart sallies and flashing eyes, instead of shearing off and going in search of more welcoming company. Fool!

One good thing had come from his eavesdropping. At least now he was forewarned that Micaela might try to sink her objections to him and encourage his pursuit. His lip curled. To be married for her family's sake and his fortune held no allure at all for him. If the lady gave in to her brother's appeals and threw any lures his way, he'd be ready for them. A nasty smile crossed his face. He was almost looking forward to rebuffing her advances. Almost.

"And what," Jasper asked, "brings that sort of smile to your face,
mon ami?"

Shaken from his unpleasant thoughts, Hugh started, but, recovering himself, he smiled, and murmured, "Nothing that you would want to know about, believe me."

Jasper cocked a brow. "Hmm. I wonder. You have been very quiet this evening... are you certain there is nothing wrong?"

They came upon a small group admiring the golden swirl of tiny fish in a large pond, and the moment for private conversation was lost. Hugh stiffened when he spied Micaela standing next to Cecile Husson. Lisette and
Mes-dames
L'Aramy and Charbonneau comprised the remainder of the group.

It was not surprising that the ladies had stopped to watch the fish. It was a very pretty spot, the walkway around the pond bordered with bright blooming scarlet and pink azaleas and beyond them several huge magnolia trees ringed the pond. The pond itself was eye-catching with its raised, rippled edge and striking tilework. Blue and pink water lilies floated serenely on the surface of the pool, the light from lanterns glinting like stars on the water.

Micaela's heart leaped when she caught sight of Hugh's tall form. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. All it took was one look from his heavily lidded gray eyes or that crooked smile of his, and she was filled with giddiness. And if he were to touch her, to hold her as Alain had done... Micaela swallowed with difficulty, stunned by the shocking heat which bloomed low in her abdomen.

Watching him beneath her lashes as he and Jasper greeted the ladies, Micaela finally admitted to herself something she had known all along: Hugh Lancaster was dangerous to her. Dangerous, because she feared that no matter how hard she tried to act cool and indifferent around him, her reckless heart had very different ideas.

Made miserable by the earlier conversation with François, Micaela's thoughts had been chasing themselves around in her brain like rats in a trap all afternoon. She would do much to save her brother, but she balked at ruining her own life for him. But Lisette... François had used the one weapon that could strike a fatal blow—her mother. For Lisette, she thought wretchedly, she would sacrifice herself. And while Lisette had not even once hinted that marriage to Husson was desirable, Micaela knew that there was only one way out of her quandary. She would, the next time he pressed his suit, accept Alain's offer. The decision brought her no joy, and seeing Hugh Lancaster, realizing that the emotions he aroused within her breast were stronger, more powerful, more exciting than anything she had ever felt before in her life, only made the knowledge that she was going to force herself to marry Alain Husson all the more wrenching.

She managed to hide her unhappiness all evening, smiling and laughing as if she hadn't a care in the world as she mingled with their many guests, but the sight of Hugh's lean, handsome features and the realization that whatever silly, girlish notions she might have about him were finished caused her mask to slip slightly. When he approached her after greeting the older ladies, and bent politely over her hand, she was unaware of the softening of her gaze, the naked vulnerability in her dark eyes as their glances met.

To her astonishment, Hugh's manner was coolly abrupt with her. Leaving her perplexed by his coldness, she watched as he turned to smile warmly at Cecile. Have I offended him? she wondered. It was true that she had made some provocative statements in his presence and that some imp always prompted her to behave just this side of outright rudeness, but he had never seemed to mind. In fact, she thought with growing puzzlement, he had seemed to like the thrust and parry of their conversation, lazy amusement gleaming in his eyes those times when she had been particularly outrageous. And she could not deny that she had looked forward to their verbal tussles. What had changed?

Jean, François, and Alain Husson came up to them just then, and the groups merged, each gentleman offering an arm to the ladies. Despite Alain's determined push to her side, it was Hugh's arm that lay beneath Micaela's slender hand as the enlarged party began to walk slowly down the garden path. Hugh and Micaela brought up the rear, Jasper and Cecile walking in front of them.

The expression in Micaela's usually laughing eyes when they had met had not gone unnoticed by Hugh and while just the day before, it would have caused his pulse to pound, this evening it only added fuel to his fury. Convinced that she had given in to François's pleas and was now attempting to lure him into her web, his anger hardened. The lady, it would appear, has made her decision. Little fool! Does she believe that all it will take is a limpid glance from those lovely eyes of hers to melt
my
heart? She will find, he vowed grimly, before she is much older that she is very much mistaken.

It was that vow which prompted him to make certain that he was Micaela's escort as they strolled through the garden. Determined to make his position clear—as much because he preferred plain speaking as the unacknowledged worry that he might, even knowing that her emotions were not involved, succumb to her wiles, he maneuvered events so that they were at the end of the line of couples.

They had not walked far when he halted and let the others increase their distance between them. Micaela's glance was startled as she looked up at him.

"What is it,
monsieur
? Why do we stop?"

Steeling his emotions against the lovely picture she made in the lanternlight, her dark hair piled elegantly on her small head, her eyes full of mystery and her tempting mouth only inches from his, he said bluntly, "I think I should tell you that while I find your company delightful, I have no intention of allowing myself to be trapped in any snare set by you or your family. You are, I will admit, a tempting baggage, but I will not marry you under any circumstances, so I suggest that you put any ideas of that sort out of your head."

Micaela blinked, hardly believing what she was hearing. As the full import of his words sank in, she stiffened. Full of Creole pride, her quick temper soared. She stepped away from him, glaring, and spat, "How
dare
you!" Ignoring the stab of pain in her heart, nearly choking with righteous indignation, she sputtered, "You are mad! And vain and conceited if you think that I would lower myself to marry such as you!" Her straight little nose went up in the air, her dark eyes flashing as she regarded him across the small distance which separated them. "You need not bother to escort me further," she said with icy disdain. "Fortunately this is my home, and I can find my way alone. I certainly do not need or
want
the company of someone like you—you boorish, ill-bred
Américain!"

"Since we understand each other and I have nothing now to lose," Hugh said darkly, a peculiar look on his handsome face, "I might as well confirm your opinion of me and satisfy myself...."

His hands gripped her shoulders, and, before she could react, his mouth came down urgently on hers. Micaela's lips stung from the barely leashed hunger of his mouth, the heat from his kiss, burning her, making her dizzy, making her pulse race and her heart pound like thunder in her chest. But there was an unbearable sweetness in his embrace, too, and for one fleeting moment she let herself melt against him, let her lips soften.

His muffled groan and the realization of what she was doing brought Micaela hurtling back to reality. With a gasp, part shame, part fury, she tore herself from his arms, which, to her amazement, had somehow closed around her and had been holding her cradled next to him. Her eyes wide with shock and anger, her hand connected to his cheek before she had time to think. The sharp sound echoed through the night.