Underground Captive (11 page)

"
Non
, I don't."

"He's a hotheaded, young fool," Jared growled.  "I don't
intend to kill him.
My experience...."

    
             
"He intends to kill you," Charles said, concern in his voice, worry in his features.

    
             
"Let me rephrase that, I don't
wish
to kill him.  But, if I must, I will not lose sleep over it.  Angus!" Jared called, his cold tone gone as quickly as it came.  "Permit me to offer ye a brandy, Charles, and a seat."

"I would appreciate both."

Angus appeared at the door.  "Ye call, Master Jared?"

    
             
"Aye, Angus."  Jared threaded his fingers through his hair.  "Please bring
Monsieur
Duplantier a brandy and bring another scotch for me."

    
             
"Aye," Angus said, leaving immediately and returning minutes later with the drinks.  "Will there be ennathin' else, master?"

"Nay.  Ye may return to yer chamber."

Angus nodded and departed the room.

    
             
"I would again like to extend an apology for my abrupt departure when you visited Crescent Wood."

    
             
"Charles, don't bother.  I took no offense.  We make mistakes sometimes."

    
             
"
Merci
, Jared, for being so understanding."  Charles smiled.  "I hope Nicki didn't offend you in any way."

    
             
"Yer daughter is an opinionated young lady, but nay, she didn't do or say anything for ye to worry about."

    
             
"I'm afraid I haven't been much of a father to either of my children," Charles said on impulse.  "My son and my daughter are as different as night and day."  He stirred in his chair, his anxiety evident.  "Nicki is everything I wish her brother could be....Bold, determined, and daring.  I guess I've always been too permissive with her.  After her mother died, she became very difficult.  I sent her away to a very good school, but she just decided she'd had enough and came back home in July, before completing her studies."

    
             
"And yer son? How is he different from Nicollette?" Jared asked, genuinely curious for more reasons than one, amazed that he didn't feel the extreme anger he'd felt when Nicki spoke of Ricard.  Aye, he still despised Ricard, he just didn't react the same when Charles spoke of him.

    
             
"He has a gentler nature.  He's even-tempered like his mother was.  My wife was a soft, gentlewoman, Jared, and I was the hell-raiser.  Nicki is a lot like I was at that age.  But I didn't really slow down until my wife's death.  Then I knew I had to, if I wanted to live to raise my children.  Especially my daughter.  Ricard was almost nineteen years old when I lost Marie-Claude.  Nicki was almost thirteen.  But her defiance was already evident, even then."

    
             
Hearing the note of sadness in Charles's voice and sensing the man's need to unburden himself, Jared drew in a breath.  Maybe Charles was too proud to bare his soul to his intimate friends.  Or maybe he didn't want to be judged by them as having failed as a father.

    
             
Jared had no desire to judge
Monsieur
Charles Duplantier on his ability to raise children.  His most ardent and only desire was to settle a score on Duplantier's so called "gentle" son.

    
             
While he waited for the return of the prodigal son, Jared decided then and there he'd delight in taming the wildcat that was the daughter.  It amazed him how his warring emotions alternated between anger and desire for Nicki.

    
             
Aye, he would allow Charles to indulge him as a friend for as long as it took.  Because one day the murderer of his wife would come home to be reckoned with.  Then and only then would he have peace.  Peace from the torment and the guilt.  Guilt of not being there when Patricia needed him most.

    
             
"Charles, ye shouldn't reproach yerself at this time.  Ye have tried to make amends for yer past mistakes.  Time is a great mender.  Yer children may surprise ye.  Ye should relax and sit back and wait for the fruits of yer labor of love to really blossom," Jared said, surprised that he gave sympathetic counsel to Charles.  Even more surprising was the sincerity in which he said and meant it.

    
             
Charles looked at Jared with admiration.  "Merci, Jared, for that advice.  The fact that you can be concerned touches me.  I will always cherish your friendship."

    
             
The bell clang sounded again.  Moments later Angus came back into the room.

    
             
"Master Jared,
Monsieur
Louis Aupre and another gentleman be 'ere tae see ye."

    
             
Jared drained his glass and stood.  "Show them in," he grumbled, instinct telling him that Falgout's seconds had arrived.

    
             
Louis and the man stepped hesitantly into the room.  Seeing the murderous scowl on Jared's face, Louis swallowed hard, wanting to be anywhere but where he was.  "J-Jared, I-I didn't offer.  Christian asked.  Being a gentleman, I..."

    
             
Jared glared at him, but relented when he saw the sweat beading Louis's brow.  He smiled, though it came out as more of a grimace.  "I don't wish for yer explanation, Louis.  I hold no grudge against ye."

    
             
Louis let out the breath that he'd been holding.  "Allow me to introduce
Monsieur
Emil Morrell, Christian's other second."

Emil bowed slightly and extended his hand.  "My pleasure,
Monsieur
Fleming."

Jared nodded, shaking his hand limply.  "
Monsieur
Morrell."  Looking back at Louis, he asked,  "When?"

For a moment, Louis was lost.

Jared swore in exasperation.

"The duel, Louis!" Charles barked, startling Louis.

"It is to take p-p-place at the o-o-oaks at d-d-dawn," he stuttered.

"W-what w-w-weapon have you chosen, J-J-Jared?"

"The rapier," Jared responded with studied patience.

"J-Jared, I--"

Jared raised a hand to silence him.  "There is no need for apologies.  Would ye like a drink to calm yer frazzled nerves?"

"
Oui
," Louis said with a smile.

"Charles?"

    
             
Charles hesitated a moment before standing from his seat.  "
Non
, Jared, I must be leaving.  I am expected elsewhere, then I must go to Crescent Wood to prepare for the duel."

"Very well.  I will see ye at dawn."

"Certainly.  Until then I bid you adieu.  I'll see myself out."

"Goodnight, Charles," Jared said, getting no reply and knowing without a

doubt he liked Charles.  ‘Twas a pity that he had to kill Charles’s worthless son.

    
             
"
Monsieur
Montage received a very good offer for the crops.  Our fields have been producing well over the past two years," he said, raising his brow as he glanced at the mantle clock and placing his hands on his hips.  "What are you doing up so late, Nicki?  It is after two in the morning."

    
             
"I'm not a child, Pa Pa.  I couldn't sleep.  But since you are home I would like to speak to you about Ricard."

    
             
His hands falling to his sides, Charles walked forward, stopping before her.  "Ricard?  Is there any word from your brother, Nicki?"

  
             
"
Non
, Pa Pa," Nicki answered, bowing her head, picking at a piece of lint on her nightwrap.

    
             
Charles inhaled a deep breath.  "Cherie, I know you miss your brother but we must speak on this matter later," he said apologetically.

    
             
"Why?  I thought you missed Ricard as much as I," she whispered, seeing the disappointed look in her father's sapphire eyes.

    
             
"I do, Nicki.  But I must get to Allard Plantation."

    
             
"The dueling oaks!" she cried, bolting out of her seat on the settee.  "Pa Pa!  Please.  You mustn't--"

    
             
"Calm down, Nicki," Charles sighed, the tensing of his jaw betraying his deep frustrations.  "I am not dueling.  I have offered to be one of Jared Fleming's seconds."

    
             
She stared at her father in mute astonishment.  Panic quaked in her, the blood draining from her face.  "J-J-Jared?"

    
             
"Nicki, are you all right?"

    
             
"
Oui
, Pa Pa," Nicki said, barely audible, her brows furrowed. 
Mon dieu
!

Jared could be killed! 
Non
! 
Non
! 
Non
!  Her fears were premature.

    
             
"If you'll excuse me,
cherie
," Charles cut into the tense silence.  "I have to get my cape.  The weather is changing."  He started for the door.

    
             
"I'm going with you to The Oaks, Pa Pa!"

    
             
Charles spun on his heels and stared at her.  "Young lady, you will stay

here.  Women are not allowed on the dueling fields."

    
             
"I
am
coming," she ground out, hands on hips.  "If you don't take me, I'll see you there.  To hell with what others think.  Jared may need me and I'll be damned if you or anyone else will stop me from being there!"

    
             
Charles balled his hands into fists at his sides.  "I'll lock you in your bedchamber, Nicollette.  I am your father.  You
will
respect my wishes!  And you won't use that language anymore in my presence or anyone else's.  I am doing what is best for you."

    
             
"I will find a way to get there."  She narrowed her eyes at him.  "I'll climb to the ground from the veranda, Pa Pa."

    
             
"Hurry and get dressed, Nicollette," he sighed in defeat.  "I refuse to have you losing your balance and injuring yourself.  But, later, you must tell me what transpired on Jared's tour for you to be as adamant as you are in wanting to be at Jared's side."

"There is absolutely nothing to tell," Nicki announced and marched past

him.

    
             
In her bedchamber, she doffed her wrap and nightrail and donned a deep blue, velvet day dress, not bothering to put on petticoats or a corset.

    
             
Dieu de ciel!  Jared!
  She didn't know why, but she felt obligated to be there.  He had been so magnificent yesterday, she couldn’t imagine him harmed.  He had matched wits with her perfectly, handled his horse amazingly, looked at her seductively.

It hadn’t even mattered that he was ‘Mericain or not quite as wealthy as her father.

Getting a pair of silk stockings and riding boots from her chifferobe, she went to her bed and sat down, wondering if she could possibly say something to Jared to talk him out of this.  But men and their honor was a very touchy subject.  About as touchy as talk of the Black Rider was amongst the planters.