Underground Captive (17 page)

Underground Captive
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
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Charles groaned.  "Louis had to be mistaken.  He admitted the man had an Irish accent.  Why Louis failed to inform Nicki of this, I'll never know!"

    
             
"True.  But you didn't have to punch Louis.  He felt bad enough and you could have broken his ribs or he could have challenged you to a duel!  I  thought you had lost some of that temper."

"I have, but not where my children are concerned.  Especially my daughter.  Did I say I didn't want Jared or Ricard in that hell-hole?  Imagine how I felt when I learned my daughter was in there!"

    
             
"Please don't start talking of Nicki's scandalous behavior again or I may lose the contents of my stomach."

"Antoinette!" 

    
             
"Sorry,
monsieur
," Antoinette said, nonplussed.  "But do you realize you haven't considered her out in the cane fields scandalous?  You don't want to tell her we're getting married until the last possible minute.  For that reason, you'll have your daughter out in those fields until the day of our wedding, which I don't understand.  What is so bad about informing Nicki of our approaching marriage?" Her tone conveyed her own frustrations.  "If you would, I could move to the plantation and you could do your job and concentrate on finding an overseer after grinding season ends."

    
             
"I will tell her," Charles snapped.  "I've explained to you that she'll not like giving up her title as mistress of Crescent Wood.  She is my daughter and I know her better than you."

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Antoinette's gray eyes blazed with sudden anger and she bristled with indignation.  "Do you really,
cheri
?  You cannot force Nicki to like me.  Holding back the knowledge that we'll marry will make it worse, not better.  She'll think I talked you into this deception.  You're playing with your daughter's feelings, Charles, and it is unfair.  You will have to give Nicki time to adjust to me as her stepmother."

"That's what she needs, Antoinette, a woman's guidance."

"Make up your mind," Antoinette snapped.  "She needs a husband!  She needs a woman's guidance.  You don't know yourself what she needs!  I will offer your daughter advice only if she asks.  Her mother raised her, Charles.  If there is one thing I remember about Nicollette is all hell breaks loose if someone forces her into something.  Besides, she
has
a woman's guidance.  Blanche has been there for her since Marie-Claude died."  Sitting up on the bed,  she pushed the covers aside, revealing her nakedness.  "I am going to dress for the opera.  I suggest you do the same."

*  *  *   

             
Angus brushed the curls on the coppery blond head until the hair gleamed like foxfire.

    
             
Jared stood and his servant helped him on with his gold brocaded vest and dark velvet maroon waistcoat.  Putting his stock in place, Jared walked to the beveled mirror that sat atop his manchest.  The white shirt and snowy stock against the brushed velvet, so dark it appeared black at some angles, contrasted perfectly.  His dark trousers clung to his well-developed, long limbs.

    
             
"Aye, master," Angus commented.  "'Tis a look ye 'ave that willa put unpure thoughts in the minds of the lassies and cause the lads tae turn green wi' jealousy."

    
             
Jared laughed.  "Ye're kind to think thusly, Angus.  But I'll wager ye I'll get lost in the crowd and go unnoticed by both lassies and laddies the entire evening."

   
             
"Pity.  Ye shouldna be going alone, Master Jared...." 

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Angus’ voice trailed off when he saw the look Jared gave him.  'Twas not a look of forbiddance, just exasperation.  Jared was well aware of how Angus felt.  Angus shared the same sentiment as the other servants.  They felt 'twas time Jared unlocked the doors to his heart and opened it to love again.

    
             
Jared understood their concern for his well being but as long as he was so intent on avenging his wife's death, he had no room for love.  Falling in love might somehow lessen the fires of hate he nurtured for Ricard.

    
             
But, in spite of himself, he couldn't stop thinking of Nicki.  He couldn't stop the tender feelings she elicited in him.  That tenderness overwhelmed even the annoyance her spoilt ways constantly provoked.  His loins throbbed at the remembered taste of her lips and the feel of her body pressed against his a short week ago.  What exotic things he would do to her if he ever got her into his bed.  Just by the way she responded to his kisses, he knew she could be a woman of flaming passion.

    
             
The man who finally won Nicki would certainly have a willing and amorous bed partner.  Extreme jealousy spiraled through Jared at the thought of another man, other than himself, possessing her.  Like a wild honeysuckle vine, she was slowly creeping under his skin, climbing and tugging at his heart--

   
             
Well, he wouldn't bloody let her!  He wouldn't waste his emotions on a woman whose brother he was bound and determined to kill.  The devil take Nicollette Duplantier.  He would go to the opera and lose himself in the glorious voice of the diva.  Wanting to enjoy himself, he determined to push Nicki out of his mind.

    
             
"Master," Angus interrupted his thoughts.  "Hugh 'as 'itched the barouche.  The time for curtain call approaches."

    
             
"Aye, my friend.  But I fear I'll appear lost in the barouche.  Was there not a smaller carriage available?"

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"Nay, master.  They 'ave all been rented oot.  'Twas only the larger coach and the barouche left.  Would ye prefer tae 'ave Georgie saddled?"

    
             
"I don't relish going to an opera on horseback.  I'll ride in the barouche."

    
             
"Mayhap, you would take yer cape," Angus advised him.  "There's a change in the air."

    
             
"If ye insist, Angus."  He allowed Angus to secure the light weight cape across his shoulders.  He put his top hat on his head, took his white gloves and joined Hugh in the carriage. 

             
Hugh, dressed in the gold and white velvet coachman's uniform, the colors of Lismore Castle's liverymen, clicked his tongue and the two horses moved in unison.
             
"Hugh," Jared said after several minutes of riding in silence, "tomorrow ask Mary Douglas if she'd like to close the house by the ramparts and journey to Highland Acres with us.  She and Elizabeth seems to get on well enough.  It keeps slipping my mind to ask Mary, however."

    
             
"Aye, master.  Mary, the daft 'ag, will probably enjoy the female company."

"Ye're quite right."

"'Ow long willa we be at 'Ighland Acres?"

    
             
"Only a week," Jared answered.  "Long enough for me to check on the horses.  I'll discuss it in detail with all of ye in the morning."

"Aye."

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Mary Douglas and Elizabeth Wedgewood always seemed to get along well, Jared reflected.  His housekeeper at Highland Acres was a plump woman, though not as hefty as Mary Douglas.  He shook his head, marveling at the contrast between her and Mary Douglas.  Not that Mary wasn't a clean woman.  She was just always so unkempt looking.  She always looked like she came out of a trunk, wrinkled and disheveled, whereas Elizabeth could have easily come out of a large band box.  He concluded Mary Douglas's reputation for being daft probably came about because of the way she looked.  But then again, if she wasn't just a tad off the mark, she wouldn't look like that.

"Bloody 'ell," Hugh mumbled.

"What is it, Hugh?"

"'Tis the traffic, Master Jared."

    
             
Jared hadn't realized they'd crossed Canal Street already.  The closer they got to the newly opened French Opera House, the more congested the streets became.  Carriages, landaus, phaetons, barouches, large carriages, small cabriolets and buggies were stopped side by side.  Some were even blocking the street entirely.  Gaslights all along the streets luminated the area.

    
             
"I'll walk this last block."  Jared stepped out of his stranded carriage.  "Use yer own judgement as to whether ye'll stay and wait or go back home and return for me later."

    
             
"'Tis a chill in the air and I didna bring me coat.  I think I willa go back to the warmth and comfort of me room at the house."  Now blocked from going either forward or backward, Hugh saw that the task might prove impossible.   "Bloody damn."

    
             
Jared laughed.  "Ye figure it out, Hugh.  If ye're able to get out, plan to be back here in the next three hours.  If I'm not here I'll leave word where I'll be."

    
             
"Aye, Master Jared," Hugh replied.

    
             
When Jared reached the opera house, he entered the magnificent hall with its ornately decorated domed ceiling, shimmering and shining from the crystal and gold chandeliers.  Colors of royal purple and gold decorated the balconies and walls.

    
             
He casually strode through the reception hall, and nonchalantly looked around for familiar faces.  His eyes fell almost immediately on Blanche Sonnier.  His heart skipped a beat.  If Blanche was here, would Nicki be here also?

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the reception table, enjoying a cup of punch.
             
His breath stopped at the incredibly beautiful sight she presented.  Her hair, black as a moonless night, hung in loose waves down her back.  Her bold off-the-shoulder evening gown of midnight blue taffeta and silk seemed to match the color of her hair against the smooth whiteness of her shoulders.  Every other girl there had her hair in the fashionable style of tight little curls with hair parted down the middle.

             
But Nicki Duplantier wasn't like everyone else.  Therefore, she didn't care

to look like everyone else.  She laughed at something funny that was said and Jared thought he had never heard a more endearing sound. 

    
             
Nicollette turned to seek out her
tante
.  Almost magically, her glance found Jared’s hazel gaze.

    
             
Her eyes are not amethyst
, Jared thought as he scrutinized her in wonderment.  They seemed a deep, smoldering blue.  As blue as the gown she wore.  And the gown was blue, after all.
             

             
Across the crowded, noisy room of fashionably gowned ladies and elegantly attired gentlemen, their glances collided.  Everyone else melted away and, for a brief moment, they silently communicated a feeling neither one cared to define or admit, a feeling neither one wanted to let go of.

    
             
Nicki gazed at him with tenderness, a soft smile playing across her small mouth.

    
             
Jared's eyes smoldered with passion and a curious, deep longing.

Then, the spell was broken.

    
             
A friendly hand tapped Jared on his shoulder.  He quickly turned, not knowing whether to rage or rejoice at being brought to reality so abruptly.

"Jared!" Louis Aupre shouted above the din.  "I did not know you would

be here tonight."