Emerald Ecstasy (4 page)

Maria's humble lodges seemed like a palace. The room Lianne rented was small and in a rough section of the city, but it was clean and Maria, who took an instant liking to her, saw that she ate properly and got enough rest. Maria knew she had little money, and she waived the rent until after the baby's birth. When Lianne was physically able, she obtained a position with the local opera company. She wasn't the lead soprano, and only sang small parts, but she was happy and grateful to Maria who watched the baby while she performed.

A part of her still ached at the harsh parting words from Victor, but she decided things wouldn't have worked out anyway, not with Paulette spoiling things for her. She surmised Paulette had sent the note to the man in the summerhouse. Later, Lianne had been angry enough to murder her, but now realized Paulette had done her a good turn. If she hadn't sent the note to the stranger, her daughter would never have been conceived, and she loved her baby, who to her eyes was the most precious and beautiful five-month-old child in the world.

Désirée's hair was raven black, and her eyes were the color of a stormy sky. Like the stranger's. Lianne believed her eyes would stay that same translucent gray as a reminder of the man who had fathered her. A small smile curved upward on the finely chiseled beauty of Lianne's mouth at the thought of her child, but then she sighed. What did Don Raoul wish of her?

She walked away from the mirror and gazed out of the long window which faced the street. She drew her cape closer. Though she couldn't feel the night's cold sting through the glass, she shivered. She wondered what she was doing here and how long she should wait before Don Raoul put in an appearance. Shortly after the command performance that evening in the throne room, she had been handed the note in de Lovis's bold scrawl.

Until that moment she'd been excited to perform for the king and his queen, Maria Luisa, but felt a little like a voyeur to witness the queen's apparent fondness for Manuel de Godoy. Poor Charles sat like a small toad on a lily pad, away from his queen and protégé. Instantly Lianne knew the rumors about the queen and de Godoy were true. They carried on right under his long nose, and he never lifted an eyebrow.

The evening had been exciting until the servant handed her the note. De Lovis requested her presence in his private apartments, and she should be there promptly at midnight. Well, she was here, and he wasn't. Was he playing her for a fool? Why should such a powerful man care about her operatic career? Her part in the performance was minor—no cause to claim the interest of him. In fact she didn't even know what he looked like or if she had seen him during the performance. Apparently he had seen her.

She glanced from the window as a shadow loomed large near the bedroom door. Her eyes met the dark, piercing stare of Raoul de Lovis as he emerged and quietly made his way toward her. She'd had no idea anyone was in the next room, and she felt violated somehow, wondering if he had been observing her unawares.

“Señora Laguens.” He bowed and took her hand, placing a whisper-soft kiss in its palm. “How wonderful to meet you at last.”

She curtsied and quickly withdrew her hand. He raised an eyebrow in seeming amusement. “I hope you haven't waited long for me.”

“No, Don Raoul, not long at all.”

A tall man with a finely made face, his nostrils flared, and his full lips looked as if they had kissed a great variety of women. His thin mustache was well-groomed, and his skin was a deep shade of nutmeg, but he seemed forbiddingly dressed in a black jacket with matching breeches and boots. Except for the white lace shirt which made a startling contrast against his person, Lianne would have thought he resembled the devil himself.

“Is all to your liking?” Raoul de Lovis gestured around the room.

“Everything is quite lovely, though I'm at a loss as to why you invited me.”

“Are you?”

Lianne nodded.

Raoul grasped her elbow and steered her to one of the high-backed chairs beside the table. After she sat, and he took his place, his dark eyes swept across her face then down to the cape tied at her neck. He reached out and startled her when he untied the strings. The cape fell from her shoulders. “Now you shall be more comfortable. The room is stuffy.”

Lianne didn't believe that was the reason as he appraised her again, starting from her hairline and traveling to the creamy whiteness of her shoulders and hotly lingered at the globular fullness of her breasts. She felt as if he were a shopkeeper taking inventory of his wares. She resented his blatant perusal, but she remained quiet and waited for him to speak.

He rested his back against the chair, seemingly much pleased, and formed his fingers into a tent. “I had hoped you would come, Lianne. My note, it piqued your interest,
sí
?”

“I could not refuse.”

He laughed and showed even white teeth. “You're direct, and I value that. Of course, you're correct in your subtle way. No one refuses Raoul de Lovis. Wine?” He lifted a bottle to pour into her glass, but she refused.

“I should like you to state your purpose. I must be home soon.”

“Very well.” He placed the bottle on the table, sat back and observed her for a moment before speaking. “I've seen you perform many times at the opera. Tonight, however, was the culmination of my admiration for you. You realize, of course, that the company is very small and it was only through my doing that the performance was given in the palace at all tonight.” He leaned in closer. “In fact, the company isn't very good. You are the main attraction.”

“How kind of you, Don Raoul. However, I sing only a short aria.”

“Soon all will change. As of this night, you are under my protection. You've heard of my power, my connections. I can make you the most sought-after diva in Spain, and with my assistance, the whole of Europe will kiss your lovely feet. I know you, Lianne Laguens. Perhaps better than you know yourself.”

Lianne fidgeted. If any man other than Raoul de Lovis sat across from her, she'd disregard such outrageous talk as mere prattle. But de Lovis wasn't any other man. He was one of the wealthiest men in Spain, a commanding figure used to having his way. And he thought he knew her.

“I fear, sir, that you don't know me at all.”

“But I do,
querida
. I know you're an orphan who married her childhood sweetheart, that you bore your husband a child who later died after your husband's murder. Before this, you and your husband escaped the terror in France and were taken under the wing of your erstwhile mentor Victor Dubois. You left his troupe in disgrace, arriving pregnant and homeless in Madrid nearly a year ago. Since then you've been living at the lodges of Señora Maria Alvarez … Need I continue?”

Lianne's face turned white with shock then grew red with anger. “How dare you spy on me!”

He stood up, took her arm and hauled her from the chair in one motion. “I'm an entrepreneur,
querida
. I know everything about the people I wish to possess. And I shall not only make you the greatest soprano in Europe but you will also become my mistress. As of this night.”

“No!”

She struggled, but he held her tightly. “You need some inducement,
mi amor.”

He brought her to a closet and threw open the door. Inside were clothes of the finest silks and velvets, capes lined with mink, chinchilla. There was an assortment of shoes, hats, stockings to match, and he pulled a wooden box from a shelf. He yanked it open and spilled the contents onto the floor. Emeralds, diamonds, sapphires in an array of necklaces, earbobs, pendants, lay sparkling at her feet.

“This is what I offer you, Lianne. Not only the continent, but its wealth.”

Nothing had ever shocked her to such an extent that she could barely speak. She looked into the Don's handsome face and knew that she'd be crazy not to let him have his way with her. No matter how long the affair lasted, she would still be better off than she was now. But she couldn't give herself to him. For all the desire burning in his eyes, she feared him and knew he could destroy her. Yet she wanted love, the same love she'd found for a few moments of stolen ecstasy with the stranger.

Her voice shook when she finally spoke, and she hoped he would realize she meant her words. “You may know facts about me, but you don't know me. I refuse your offer.”

A self-satisfied smirk played about his mouth. “I thought you would, but,
querida
, you have a child. You'd not want your beautiful baby to starve because of your foolish pride. You shall never sing again in Spain or in Europe for that matter. I doubt if you can find a position to pay as well as what I've offered you, and I doubt seriously if you'd sell yourself on the streets when I'd provide for you … if you willingly give me your body. I've hungered for you from the first moment I saw you on stage,
querida
, and I will have you.”

She froze, staring wordlessly at him, and her heart pounding in her ears nearly deafened her. From the cruel twist of his mouth to the panther-like readiness in his eyes, she knew he'd not let her leave unless she submitted to him. He meant every word he uttered and her baby would suffer if she refused. But there must be another way.

He evidently saw the shock on her face give way to acquiescence. His hold loosened. His smile was breathtakingly white. “I knew you'd see the sense of my proposition, Lianne. It pains me to have to force you to the same point of view, but in the end, you'll thank me.” He pointed to the glittering jewels on the floor. “These are nothing in comparison to what I shall give you.”

Lianne found her voice. “Are you so generous to all your paramours?”

“Just the incredibly beautiful ones, and you are the most lovely of any woman I've ever known.” He fingered a loose curl.

She cringed when his fingertip brushed her cheek. “You shall soon be used to my touch, lovely Lianne, and you'll beg for it.”

Words to sting his ego died on her tongue. She realized it wouldn't help her predicament. Perhaps if she played along with him and let him believe she found him and his wealth enticing…

“You're a persuasive man, Don Raoul.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “And a man filled with desire.” His lips met hers in a possessive kiss which took her breath away. Before she realized it, he had swept her into his arms and carried her to the rose-strewn sheets. His mouth never left her lips. He placed her in the center of the bed, and his hands imprisoned her arms against the softness of the mattress. She broke away to catch her breath.

“Please, you're moving too fast for me, Don de Lovis.”

“Raoul. Call me Raoul,” he growled and nibbled her earlobe.

“Raoul.”

For a brief moment she turned her head and spotted a doorway. She wondered where it led. To the hallway, perhaps? But his hands moved her head and forced her gaze to his. “I always get what I want, Lianne. This you should know from the start. You see, I realize your baby isn't your husband's child. I won't ask who the father is, but I'll kill any man who touches you from this day forward. Understand?”

She nodded; the instinct to flee grew stronger. The fire in his eyes burned brighter. From the way he pulled at her bodice and brought it low over her breast, and from the feel of his swelling manhood against her thigh, Lianne knew it would be only a matter of minutes before he completely undressed her and made her his. She also realized that he would take her whether she was willing or not.

His teeth tugged at her nipples. She had to get away but must be careful.

Pushing suggestively against him, she said, “Raoul, I'm not prepared for this. I'd like to attend to personal matters first.”

His head shot up, and anger flared in his obsidian eyes. However, to her surprise, he sat up and leaned across the bed to a table for a cigar. Standing up, he lit it and inhaled deeply.

“Let me know when you're finished,” he said and withdrew to the sitting room.

No sooner had he departed than Lianne shot bullet-like from the bed. She didn't run toward the beckoning doorway, however, but inched her way to the knob and prayed the door hinges wouldn't squeak.

The huge door was very old, but the thought struck her that it might be locked. Her prayers began anew. But when she grasped the golden knob and pulled, the door opened a crack.

She waited a second.

A heady sense of relief filled her. Now to make it out of the palace before Raoul realized she had fled. As quietly as possible she opened the door further, her eyes darting to the doorway which separated the sitting room. The unmistakable scent of the cigar filled the apartment and smelled much closer than the next room.

Lianne turned to exit through the door, but stopped still in her tracks to see Raoul leaning lazily against the doorjamb, the lighted cigar held casually in his hand. “Taking a midnight stroll, my little French tart?”

The blood had so completely drained from her that she felt weak and almost fainted. He threw down the cigar on the marbled floor and pushed her wobbly body into the room where she sank onto the carpeted floor.

“I told you I knew you well. It's a pity that you couldn't give yourself to me without going through this foolishness.” He bent down and grabbed a handful of hair which escaped from the pins. “You've a beautiful body, Lianne, but I must teach you who your master is. Believe me, I do hate to mar such unblemished perfection.” His right hand came up and slapped her harshly across the face. The stinging sensation brought back her survival instinct, and she realized how cowed she must seem as he towered above her. She decided that Raoul de Lovis wouldn't have her without a fight.