Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (32 page)

In the time that had passed since he had realized that he loved his bride, there had been no truly free moment in which to explore his startling discovery of the state of his heart. He had come to accept it as fact that he
did
love her—deeply—and it seemed incredible to him that he could have been so blind to his own emotions. He knew that Micaela fascinated him, almost from the moment he met her. He knew that he lusted mightily after her lush body, but he had not thought that there had been any lasting emotion behind those feelings.

Yet he had taken her as his wife, even knowing that she had connived and tricked him into marriage—even knowing, if Alice was to be believed, Micaela had openly admitted theirs was a business arrangement. His lips quirked into a rueful smile. He had been a thickheaded fool! He had told himself, convinced himself, that marrying Micaela had been an expeditious way to gain her bed and to make certain that her shares in the company had not ended up in the hands of someone like Husson. His reasons, he now admitted with a certain amount of amused chagrin, had been foolish in the extreme and composed of sheer unadulterated nonsense.
He loved Micaela!
And had, he realized with equal parts of despair and satisfaction, for a long time. With a silly smile on his face, he was only partially aware of his stepfather seated beside him and the road ahead of him. Most of his thoughts dwelled on his future with his dark-eyed, sweet-lipped love at his side.

The dusty, rutted road they were driving upon ambled along the Mississippi River, haphazardly following parallel to the channel of the river. Heavy vegetation obscured the river occasionally, but during other stretches, the edge of the road was not twenty feet from the sluggishly drifting water. There were places where the rampant greenery pressed close to the narrow trail, leaving a scant foot or two between the dust-rimmed leaves of brush and berry vines and the sides of the curricle; other areas were broad and open, the vegetation growing low and sparse.

At present, they were driving through an area where the road was fairly wide and straight, the gray-blue river was on one side; on the other tangled brush and swampy undergrowth. The lush, verdant foliage was not as encroaching along this section of the trail, and there was a decent amount of openness, perhaps thirty feet between the edge of the road and the massed green wilderness. It was, Hugh would realize later, a perfect location for an ambush.

Suddenly, several things happened simultaneously; a ground-nesting bird at the edge of the road erupted into flight, startling the horses; the curricle swerved wildly as the horses plunged and shied; and the crack of pistol fire rang out. Hugh owed his very life to that nesting bird, the bullet grazing his arm instead of finding his heart as it would have if the curricle had not swerved so unexpectedly. He took a deep breath. Though he did not yet realize it, a few inches to the right and he would have been a dead man.

"Get down!"
he yelled at John as he slapped the reins on the backs of the horses and brought his whip into play. At the first stinging lash of the whip, the horses leaped forward, even as a second shot buried itself in the cushion of the backrest near Hugh. Too damn near for comfort, Hugh thought grimly, as he exhorted his pair into a dead run. The horses responded like the thoroughbreds they were, their long necks outstretched, their powerful black legs gleaming in the sunlight, the curricle fairly flying down the dusty road.

Ambushes by murderous scoundrels were not uncommon along any road, but instinct told Hugh that this was no simple robbery. Someone, concealed in the undergrowth, had just tried to kill him, and he sincerely doubted that it had been a bandit with a penchant for killing his victims.

A third bullet smacked into the rear of the curricle and then the horses, black manes and tails flying, were thundering around a curve in the road, the curricle tipping precariously as they tore around the bend. The curve was sharp and one wheel left the ground, spinning uselessly in the air as the curricle rounded the curve. Hugh and John threw their weight in that direction and the curricle bounced down jarringly as the wheel found earth again. Two miles down the road and no sign of pursuit, Hugh finally slowed his horses to a trot.

His mouth set, he glanced at John. "Are you all right?"

John nodded. "You?"

Hugh looked down at his arm, noticing for the first time the tear in his coat and the faint gleam of blood on his sleeve. "I think I have been hit, but it does not feel serious." He grinned at his stepfather's expression. "A mere scratch, sir. I assure you."

A closer examination of the wound proved Hugh's words correct. The bullet had ripped a gash in his upper arm, but beyond a burning sensation, Hugh seemed none the worse for his ordeal. Shrugging quickly back into his coat, Hugh said, "I do not want to linger here any longer than necessary. I don't think our attacker will follow us, but I would just as soon take no chances."

Despite what he had said for John's benefit, Hugh silently considered briefly the possibility of going back and taking a look around. Wisdom dictated otherwise—a lone horseman could easily disappear into the forests, while any attempt to follow in the curricle would prove disastrous. Besides, whoever had shot at them was more than likely gone from the scene by now. And John was with him. The shock of Etienne's death had left Hugh feeling particularly wary about involving others in what was clearly becoming a deadly enterprise. There was no way in hell that he would risk harm coming to his stepfather. The need for direct and decisive retaliation gnawed at him, though, and it was only with great reluctance that he finally snapped the reins and started the horses into motion.

As was their wont when traveling, Hugh and John had brought pistols with them. But there had been no time to bring their own weapons into play, and since their attacker had been well hidden, to have fired upon him would have been a waste of precious seconds and ammunition. But the next time, Hugh thought, they would be prepared, both pistols now lying handily on the seat between them, ready to be snatched up in a moment. They would not be caught by surprise again.

The remainder of the journey was without incident, but both men were tense and alert, their narrowed-eyed gazes carefully scanning the passing countryside. Hugh kept the horses at a swift pace, slowing only long enough from time to time for the animals to restore their vigor, before pushing onward.

They had driven in silence for several minutes before John said, "A robber with murder in mind, do you think? Or something more sinister?"

"More sinister," Hugh replied bluntly. "It
could
have been an attempted robbery, I will not deny it, but you will have a hard time convincing me that someone did not just try to kill me."

John agreed. "My opinion also. Etienne's killer?"

"I do not know. Probably. There are lawless, murderous men aplenty in this area, but it would seem too much of a coincidence that Etienne and I would cross paths with two different such men."

"But who?" John demanded. "If it is the same man who killed Etienne... One of our erstwhile partners, do you think?"

That dangerous tiger's smile crossed Hugh's face. "I do not know, sir, but I certainly intend to find out—soon." His expression grew hard. "Everyone knew that we were leaving for
Amour
this morning. And knowing that, it would have been a simple task for anyone to set up the ambush."

"I do not like this at all," John admitted. "This person is becoming more vicious by the hour. Etienne is dead, and you were just shot at." He looked worriedly at Hugh. "If they tried once, what is to stop them from trying again?"

"Nothing, except that now they have lost the element of surprise and believe me, Papa, I do not intend to make myself an easy target for them again."

"Who do you think it was?"

Hugh slanted his stepfather a mocking look. "Well, and I could be wrong, but I suspect that we have discovered why Husson was so easily convinced to sell me his shares—even at an inflated price."

John frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think," Hugh began slowly, "that it was Husson back there who tried to kill me. He is no friend to me, and he had nothing to lose by my death and everything to gain—I had just bought his shares and paid him for them. Before I came to New Orleans he was a suitor for Micaela's hand.... I think
Monsieur
Husson saw a way to dupe me twice. The first by making me pay an exorbitant price for his shares while I was alive and the second, in due time, after he had murdered me, by marrying my widow and gaining control of a majority interest in the firm, including the shares he had made me buy from him."

"
Diabolical!"
exclaimed John, horrified.

Chapter 15

When Hugh's first note had arrived, Micaela had been overjoyed,
thrilled
that their separation would be so brief. She was miserably aware of the constraint that still lay unresolved between them. But the conversation with her mother had given her much to think over and she had concluded that she was a silly goose for letting the situation happen in the first place. And she would be a fool ten times over, she told herself sternly, if she did not attempt to breach the gulf between them before it became any wider. Hugh's unexpected return would give her a chance to make amends.

Micaela and Lisette had been sitting in the shade of a sprawling magnolia tree near the house, enjoying the faint breeze from the river, when the servant from New Orleans had arrived with Hugh's note. Since Hugh left the ladies had been busy exploring the house, outbuildings, and gardens. They had met with the various new servants and organized a thorough cleaning and inventory of the place. The house had fairly vibrated with all the activity and only today had the two women begun to plan the furnishings that would be needed. It was highly pleasant to spend money, especially when one had a generous husband.

Seeing the color blooming in Micaela's face and the glow in her eyes as she read the note, Lisette laughed. "Now let me see," she began teasingly, "what can that little piece of paper contain that makes you look so? Could it be? Is it that your so virile and handsome husband is returning?"

At Micaela's smile and nod, Lisette murmured, "And you thought he was tired of you! For shame,
petite,
it is obvious that the man cannot stay away from you."

Thinking of what else Hugh had written, Micaela laid aside the missive and, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, murmured, "He writes that he will be returning to
Amour
tomorrow and bringing a guest... John Lancaster."

Her words had all the impact she could have wished. Lisette's beautiful eyes widened. She paled, and her breath caught audibly in her throat. "
Here
? He is coming here?"

"Of course," Micaela replied demurely, her eyes dancing. "Where else would my husband bring his stepfather? I suspect that
Monsieur
John Lancaster will stay here for several weeks."

Lisette surged to her feet. "Oh!
Merci!
I did not think to meet him again so soon! I knew he was coming, but I did not—And to be living in the same house!
Dieu!
I must leave! Oh, what will he think to find me here?"

Fondly Micaela watched as Lisette took several agitated steps around the area, and she decided that her flustered and very pretty
maman
did not look as if she were old enough to have two children who were now adults. She looked like a woman half her age, her creamy skin firm and glowing, her black hair without one strand of silver in it and her form as generously rounded as a young girl's. With midnight black eyes full of uncertainty, Lisette swung around to stare at Micaela.

"I cannot stay here!" Lisette said almost desperately.

"Why can you not?" Micaela asked interestedly, feeling very wise and mature in the face of her mother's obvious agitation. "The man is only my papa-in-law. He will not eat you,
Maman,
no matter what happened between you in the past."

"But you do not understand! We were to run away together, it was all planned." Lisette's voice thickened. "We were to meet at the gazebo near the river, and he was going to take me away with him to Natchez, only
Papa
and Renault were there instead." Lisette looked away, her eyes filling with tears, even after all these years, as she remembered her shock and anguish at John's bitter betrayal. She took a deep breath. "They told me that John had confessed our plans to them that afternoon—and that he had admitted that he did not want to many me—that he had only been amusing himself with me. He abandoned me. Deserted me, even knowing that I—"