Emerald Ecstasy (29 page)

“
Sí
, I will. Or one of us will die in the process.” He whirled her around and dragged her from the palace into the carriage.

“Somehow, someway,” she heard his voice as it filled the small confines, “I shall make you forget Daniel Flanders.”

“You can't!”

His head moved in front of her, and she saw his glittering eye. “I will win in the end. One day you shall come to me with passion and desire, because I always get what I want.”

Lianne loved the mornings best after Raoul left the house to attend to business matters. Through breakfast she had to restrain her impatience to have him gone by listening to his monologues about the mines, the banks, how he wished he could divide himself in half to take care of his many enterprises. Lianne felt extreme gladness that Raoul didn't have the power to double himself. One of him was enough for the world to handle, she thought. However, she had learned to paste a fake smile upon her lips. Even to accept the farewell kiss which promised hours of his passion when he returned later in the day.

Empty minutes stretched interminably before her. How was she to fill them? Sometimes she thought she'd go insane with her memories for comfort, so she turned to Josephine who was more than willing to while away the time in frivolous conversation.

On one such morning, Lianne sat in the courtyard and watched the shimmering reflection of the sun in the fountain when a servant announced a visitor. The surprise she felt was obvious on her face as Dona Elena de Lovis joined her. After the social amenities, and while Elena sat sipping the chocolate a servant brought them, Lianne composed herself but wondered what Raoul would think if he returned early and found his wife and mistress together. Probably he'd laugh at the ludicrous picture they made: Lianne, with her mass of red-gold hair flowing around her shoulders, in a bright peasant top and skirt; Elena in a dark brown silk which looked as hot as it probably felt, and her tightly coiled hair hidden beneath the black mantilla.

Elena placed her cup on the wrought iron table before her. Her dark eyes lit up when she smiled at Lianne.

“I don't wish to make you nervous, but I think we must talk about Raoul.”

“I can't think of what we could say to one another, Dona Elena. You see how things are between Raoul and myself.”

“I see you live in great luxury as befits the mistress of Raoul de Lovis. I see that you've lasted longer than his other paramours, and this makes me think he is in love with you. No matter what he has done to me or how he has treated our daughter, I still care for him. Not in a passionate way, you understand. But I remember how I felt when we married. Believe it or not, I was once quite pretty, and not that long ago, Raoul loved me a little.” She sighed. “A very little. The marriage was arranged, and my fortune appealed to him more than I did. Not that I blame him. What man wishes to be tied to a pious, plump girl? Not a man like Raoul. Always he thought himself physically perfect and must possess the most beautiful women.”

Elena studied the blue of the sky for a moment. “I had nothing unusual to offer him, and perhaps that's why he married me. He could always be certain I'd be waiting at home for him. The whole marriage wasn't a loss. At least not for me. I have our daughter, though Raoul always wished for a son. When he realized I'd not give him any more children, he stopped visiting my bed.”

Lianne realized Elena had ceased speaking. “Why are you telling me things of such a personal nature?” Lianne asked her.

“Because I think Raoul will demand you present him with an heir. Because I don't believe you care for Raoul and do not wish to have his children, my dear. I saw the way you shook the night at the opera when he touched you, and I knew it wasn't only from your discomfort at meeting me.”

Lianne glanced away and this was all the answer Elena needed. “My visit to you is to beg that you not become pregnant with his child. Not only for my sake but for my daughter's. Carmen must inherit that which is hers by right, and if you give him a son, then Raoul will present the bulk of his assets to his heir and rob my Carmen of her birthright. But I fear for you, señora, if you bear his child. He'll never let you go. You'll belong to him then, body and soul.”

“So far I've been lucky not to conceive.”

“You will. I have no doubt of that. Raoul is a potent lover. I had one daughter but many miscarriages. You're not as frail as I. Believe me, señora, you shall conceive Raoul's child and condemn yourself to a life of living hell.”

“Nothing can be more hellish than the existence I'm living already.” Lianne's voice broke, and Elena patted her hand.

“You love someone else.”

“Yes, I do,” Lianne admitted. To her surprise she found herself telling Elena the whole story, beginning with the night she met Daniel, the time she put out Raoul's eye and ending with Raoul's blackmail of her concerning Philippe's death.

“Daniel and I would be married now if Raoul hadn't ruined things. I love Daniel so much. I'll always love him!”

Elena handed her one of her best silk handkerchiefs and watched while Lianne dried her eyes. Her mind raced with plans. Of course everything would take a bit of time to accomplish, but Elena felt sure she could help Lianne and herself in the process. Never would she allow a bastard of Raoul's to disinherit her daughter, and she knew that Raoul would somehow legitimize Lianne's child because she realized how in love he was with her.

Madre de Dios
, she prayed silently, don't let this poor creature become pregnant with a child until I carry out my plans. When Lianne handed her back the handkerchief, Elena smiled.

“All shall soon be right for you, Lianne.”

Lianne shook her head in denial. “No. Nothing shall ever be right for me again. I miss my own daughter, I miss Daniel. There's no way I can ever be free of Raoul.”

Elena left, a mysterious grin on her face which Lianne failed to see. Barely five minutes after her departure, Raoul arrived and demanded her presence in his bed. No, she decided, while Raoul found his pleasure, nothing would ever be right for her again.

“I have a surprise for you,” Raoul told her some days later. “Get up and dress.”

Lianne practically groaned as she pulled herself to a sitting position among the pillows. She was never certain how to regard Raoul's surprises, but she knew better than to question him. He might believe he was delighting her, but she always knew ulterior motives lurked beneath his gifts. However, after she dressed and joined him in the carriage, his eagerness heightened her own. He grabbed her gloved hand.

“Believe me,
querida
, you shall enjoy this.”

The carriage wound its way past Alameda Park where fountains gushed sparkling water and the foliage was a riot of spring colors, then past the square and the dark, massive cathedral flanked by the poorest of the poor, the
leperos
, holding out hands for alms. This sight always depressed Lianne, and she felt guilty for the luxury in which she resided while many people were literally starving. Raoul never glanced in the direction of the hungry faces, or the surly ones. He regarded them as less than human.

Soon the carriage stopped in front of the opera house, and he didn't speak a word despite her questioning look. Inside he headed straight to the office of Señor Dominguez who was acting as the director and introduced Lianne to him.

Señor Dominguez looked her up and down, his hand on his chin in speculation.

“Quite beautiful, Don Raoul,” he said after a few moments, “but can she sing?”

“Like a nightingale.”

“I know other men are intimidated by your reputation, and would bow to your terms in an instant. However, the young lady must convince me.”

There was a challenge in the man's voice, his stance, and Lianne saw Raoul flinch and stiffen, but he bowed graciously and nodded to Lianne. “Sing for Señor Dominguez.”

She would have refused, but suddenly she realized that Raoul was willing to allow her the opportunity to perform, and she must win her position. And she wanted to sing, to perform again. She had missed the stage.

Seconds later she found herself singing the aria she had sung the night she met Daniel. Tears came to her eyes, and when she finished, she noted that Señor Dominguez was deeply moved.

“
Bella, bella,
he whispered and wiped his eyes. Then he was all business-like. “Report to me tomorrow morning. I think we have a great diva here, eh Don Raoul?”

Raoul agreed and ushered Lianne from the office. When they were in the carriage again, he looked at her, his dark eye glittering. “Have you no thanks for me, Lianne? I just gave you your dream. You may perform with the opera.”

“I won my place, Raoul. You had nothing to do with it.”

Raoul laughed. “Señor Dominguez is a professional man,
querida
, and plays many games. Among them is the one where he likes to feel in control of the situation. I know this, and I play along. It gives me pleasure to do so, because I always know the outcome. Before I walked into the man's office I knew he'd engage you. After all, if he doesn't do as I wish, no one would attend the performances. I'd make sure of that.”

“I can't believe you have that much power, Raoul, to sway mens' opinions.”

“Then you still don't know the full extent of my power. But I tell you this, once you walk onto the stage, Mexico City shall kiss your beautiful feet. Your voice shall take the populace by storm, not only because you can carry a pretty tune, but because you're my mistress. Because you sleep with me, your dream of becoming a famous diva shall come true. I know you hate sharing my bed, but think what you've gained by belonging to me.”

“How insulting!” Lianne shook her head in denial. “Señor Dominguez offered me the position because of my voice, not for the filthy reason you say.”

Raoul contemplated her in amusement for a number of seconds. Then he said, “I think your naiveté is the reason I want you,
querida
. Yet never doubt what I've told you. You will capture the heart of Mexico City because you're my woman. Never forget that.”

Lianne felt unbridled rage and pain rise within her and she denied his prophecy, but from the moment she sang on the stage, the truth of it couldn't be denied. She had captured the hearts and minds of the people. And not only because she belonged to Raoul de Lovis.

The great amount of freedom Raoul suddenly gave to Lianne surprised her. From the moment he left in the morning to the time he returned in the late afternoon, she was on her own. Rehearsals sometimes ran longer than anticipated, and if she returned home after he did, he didn't question her. He seemed to trust she wouldn't run away, and in that regard, he was right. She had nowhere to go.

One afternoon on impulse as she passed the cathedral she motioned the driver to stop and got out of the carriage. She entered the dark church, much upset by the peasantry outside who grabbed at her as she swished past. But she needed to pray and ask God to bless her child, a child she'd never see again. Walking outside, dusk had fallen and the carriage was nowhere to be seen.

She found herself the focus of attention of the peasants. Arms and hands, faces, pleaded with her for money, for food. Some of these people she couldn't look at, they were so skeletal and deformed. Fear filtered through her, and she wondered if Raoul were right about people who'd slit her throat for a hair ribbon. She had to get away! They were suffocating her.

Lianne dug into her reticule and threw the few pesos she had at them. They dispersed like ants and she managed to push past them. Where's the driver? she wondered over and over. She fled to the side of the church but made it no further when an arm reached out and yanked her against the stone wall.

The cold tip of a blade grazed her throat. Lianne peered into a face with dark, evil eyes and framed by limp, black hair. The man smelled so vile she thought she'd be sick, and his body was pressed tight against hers.

“Where do you run to, señorita?” he asked through rotten teeth.

“Home. I must go home.”

“Have you anything for me?”

“I have no more money.” She thought she was going to faint.

“I don't want your money.” His hand slid into her bodice and squeezed a breast. “Now come with me, señorita, or I shall have to hurt you.”

She knew she should fight, but she was so paralyzed by fear she could barely walk. The man dragged her a short distance, and she wondered if he'd kill her when he finished with her, but suddenly he no longer held her. Someone had pushed her away from her kidnapper. She looked at her rescuer and saw he was barely a boy, about sixteen, and very thin. He wore dark pants which molded to his body like a second skin and his shirt was torn and dirty, but he circled the man like a panther, ready to spring.

“Ah, Felix, you don't wish me to kill you on such a fine day,” the man said to the boy.

“I'll kill you, Pepe. You shouldn't have touched the señorita.”

“She's the whore of Raoul de Lovis. You should welcome the chance to anger the man. Come, you can have her too, right after I finish with her.”