Stand-in Bride Read online

  "Last night you didn't mention coming into the city today!" she accused. Well, so much for Louis's political dinner, thought Nicole with a sinking heart as she jerked away from those lean, attractive hands whose touch brought ecstasy to her responsive flesh. She might have known he had been with Angela. Then why had he brought her to New Orleans and introduced her to his close friends and, worst of all, raised her hopes that he might care?

  "Nor did you mention plans to make use of my apartment without permission," he said curtly to Angela, his eyes following Nicole as she walked stiffly over to one corner where Larry Dupuis appeared deeply absorbed in picking out another tape. "How did you get in?"

  Angela pouted, her manner showing a trace of uncertainty at this brusque reception. Craig Johnson sat on a sofa between Sally and Michelle, the three of them looking highly uncomfortable. The tension in the room was almost unbearable for Nicole. Everyone seemed to be waiting breathlessly for Angela's answer.

  "Darling, you gave me the key, don't you remember? You said I was welcome to use the apartment any time." She flashed a glance of triumph in Nicole's direction before walking seductively across the space separating herself and Louis.

  His anger was almost a tangible thing, but when he spoke his voice was icily controlled. "That was before the wedding, when you and your mother were coming to New Orleans almost daily to shop for your trousseau. Circumstances have changed since then."

  Nicole's heart plunged at the deep bitterness in his voice. Love for him made her achingly conscious of the unhappiness he had suffered months ago when Angela deserted him and must be suffering now with this new reminder of how all his plans had crumbled.

  Angela's confidence in her ability to smooth things over faltered slightly at this unexpectedly hostile reception to the intrusion of herself and her friends. She used her most beseeching tone as she cajoled, "You can't just put us out on the street this time of night! After all, it's not our fault all the hotels are filled up with doctors in town for the medical convention."

  "You should have checked into that before you came," Louis replied unsympathetically.

  "Oh, come on, darling, please," wheedled Angela. "There's room enough with four bedrooms. It's obvious you and Nicole were planning to occupy separate rooms, so maybe she wouldn't mind sharing with one of us girls. It's chummy, but we can work something out."

  Mortification flooded Nicole's cheeks and neck with hot color at the tactless words. Angela evidently had already surveyed all the bedrooms and noted the location of her and Louis's luggage in separate rooms. At that moment she knew she was incapable of staying another hour in the apartment, much less having to share a bed with Angela or one of her girlfriends. Summoning her courage, she spoke with a flippancy born out of sheer desperation.

  "Personally I volunteer to return to Iberville tonight and escape the sardine act. Someone else is welcome to my bed."

  Her announcement caused titters of surprise that gave her a certain grim satisfaction. Obviously she had been expected to go along meekly with whatever was decided. Angela's eyes narrowed with suspicion at this unexpected turn of events.

  "Well, do I have a chauffeur?" Nicole prompted with a brittle poise she was far from feeling.

  Larry started to speak, only to be silenced by a curt gesture from Louis. "Nobody is driving my wife home except me."

  Later Nicole would replay the scene in her mind and remember details she hadn't even realized she'd noticed: Angela's whimpered protest and the look of pure enmity in her eyes as she glared at Nicole; the expression of surprise on Larry's face; and, most of all, the subtle change in attitude evident in Craig Johnson and the two other girls, as if they had suddenly made a startling discovery…

  The long ride back to Iberville was silent and strained, idle conversation being impossible because of a high invisible barrier. It was hard to believe this impassive, stern man was the same person whose company she had enjoyed on the drive into the city, the same attentive companion who had made her pulses drum with awareness all during dinner.

  She mustered up her courage and spoke tentatively as they speeded along in the heavy darkness with dense swamp spreading out on both sides. "You really didn't have to leave tonight. Larry probably wouldn't have minded—"

  "I'm sure Larry wouldn't have minded," he interrupted with cutting irony that brought tears to her eyes. It sounded as if he hated her. Her insides shriveled as she huddled into the corner against the door. Her thoughts went round and round in endless circles as she relived the events of the day, bitter that it had all ended this way. An hour passed and her eyelids grew very heavy. It was just too much trouble to hold them up.

  Some time later the flashing brightness of a caution light blinded her, and with a start she realized that somehow she had moved from her position against the passenger door and was sitting pressed against Louis, her cheek rubbing the rough fabric of his jacket sleeve.

  She sat bolt upright, trying to clear her mind and wake up. The fuzziness enveloped her head again, and she heard herself murmur, "I can drive now if you want to rest." She didn't know anything after that until the car finally came to a complete stop, and strong arms were gathering her up against a hard chest that thumped with deep regularity. She relaxed into the warm security of those arms with a blissful sigh.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning she awoke in her familiar brass bed in the pale yellow bedroom and tried to remember how she had gotten there. A peek under the covers showed she wore a filmy, pale blue nightgown, but she didn't remember undressing last night. She didn't remember anything except that wonderful sensation of being carried in strong masculine arms.

  Evidently she must have awakened enough to remove her clothes and loosen her hair from its heavy coil at the nape of her neck. Unless— The thought was so embarrassing she raised both hands to cheeks flushed at the thought that perhaps Louis had undressed her and taken the pins out of her hair. How could she face him if he had?

  She needn't have worried, because he wasn't at the breakfast table when she went down. Elaine was full of questions about the trip into the city, and Nicole did her best to answer them with the enthusiasm expected of her. She tried without success to divert the girl's attention to the upcoming Dryades tournament at Thanksgiving.

  "Say, you and Adrian had better get on the ball and practice for that tournament next weekend. He looked awful disappointed when you canceled practice to go off to New Orleans with Big Brother," the girl observed shrewdly.

  "I still say I'm not ready to play in a tournament," Nicole said worriedly.

  "Well, at least Angela won't get a chance to practice with her partner," the girl said with unmistakable satisfaction.

  "Why not?"

  "You know, silly. Louis will be in New York until Friday. He left early this morning. Didn't he tell you?" she asked incredulously.

  "Of course," Nicole lied, struggling to hide her dismay that not only was he gone, but he hadn't even bothered to tell her. That's how much he regarded her as a wife, she thought bitterly.

  "Hey, it's not the end of the world. He'll be back." Elaine eyed Nicole with a penetration discomfiting in a girl so young. "Besides, I didn't get the impression you were that crazy about Big Brother."

  "It's time for you to get to school," Nicole reminded, caught in an impossible situation where, no answer would satisfy Elaine without being either dishonest or too revealing. She just hoped Louis didn't get the impression she was "that crazy about him." Cringing inwardly at the humiliation such a discovery by him would cause her, she faced again the grim truth that leaving Mimosa House seemed the only real answer to her problems. If only there weren't Elaine to consider.

  Nicole missed Louis with an aching force that dismayed her at its intensity. The big house seemed hollow and empty without him. She went down to breakfast each morning despondently aware that he wouldn't be at the table looking up at her with those enigmatic blue eyes. It seemed pointless to take any care in dressing for dinner when
it would be just herself and Elaine and possibly Adrian now that Louis was away.

  She struggled to combat the listlessness undermining every effort. Everything just seemed to be too much trouble. Just a few weeks ago she had been serene in her life at Mimosa House, content with the company of Elaine and Adrian. Nothing essential had changed, except for her feelings. Doggedly she tried to rationalize herself out of the deep depression.

  Even Elaine and Adrian commented on her moodiness. The three of them spent many hours on the tennis court along with Jimmy Martin. They all praised her improvement and worked hard at jockeying up her confidence for the tournament just two days away. Somehow, though, she couldn't seem to care about the outcome of a tennis tournament when there were so many more crucial problems to ponder.

  She wondered how she had allowed herself to get embroiled in such a bizarre situation in the first place. Her marriage to Louis had defied every rule of rational behavior and landed her in the middle of a situation no girl would envy: married to a man who loved the girl who had jilted him. The crowning touch to the whole cruel melodrama was that the bride of convenience had fallen in love with her husband, knowing he would never reciprocate the emotion. What a hopeless mess!

  In the eyes of the world she had everything anybody could desire, everything, that is, that money could buy. What she didn't have was love…

  "Hey, she's tripped off again. Somebody hit her over the head with the racquet!" Elaine's teasing voice held an undertone of concern that prompted Nicole to straighten her shoulders and pretend mock offense at the chiding. Goodness! She would have to stop this endless introspection. Lately she found herself standing motionless right in the middle of some task, lost in the maze of her own thoughts.

  "Say, why don't you and Adrian go out to dinner or a movie or something? It'd do you good. Get your mind off the tournament."

  Nicole instinctively rejected Elaine's suggestion, but Adrian looked like a hurt puppy at her prompt refusal. Why not, for heaven's sake? Louis obviously dined out with other women even here at Iberville, and maybe it would do her good to get out and clear her mind, even though she wasn't dwelling on the tournament as Elaine believed.

  "How about it?" asked Adrian, studying the indecision on her face and speaking with a wistfulness that made up her mind.

  "I'd love to get away from you-know-who for an evening," she said brightly, wrinkling her nose at Elaine, who feigned hurt by grabbing her chest in a mock attack of pain. "Say, maybe you and Jimmy would like to join us old stodgy folks for a pizza or something?" she suggested and immediately noted the joy on Elaine's features and the downcast expression Adrian struggled to conceal. Oh, well, she couldn't make everybody happy. That was obvious.

  "Say, I'm real sorry, but I can't make it tonight," Jimmy stammered, his face red with adolescent embarrassment.

  "I had other plans, anyway," Elaine prevaricated blithely, hiding her disappointment with female stoicism.

  Nicole reflected upon her own indifference as she looked into her closet of beautiful clothes for something to wear. Getting dressed for a man other than Louis just lacked the spice of excitement—there wouldn't be that breathless moment when those disconcerting blue eyes slid over her figure, making her bones weaken as if the joints were coming unglued.

  Scolding herself mentally, she pulled out a long skirt of soft wool jersey in a tartan plaid design of green, red, and black. With it she wore a close-fitting silk blouse of a matching dark green with long sleeves and a scooped neckline. The overall effect was stunning after she had braided her long hair and arranged it in a coronet around her head and slipped heavy gold hoops in her ears. She descended the graceful sweep of stairs trailing in one hand the fringed shawl of the same material as the skirt.

  The young man who walked into the hallway at that moment looked up, entranced by the lovely woman whose beauty was only heightened by the faint shadow in her wide velvet eyes, the slight pallor to the creamy complexion. Adrian Dessommes was definitely not given to fanciful poetic comparisons, but he thought whimsically that Nicole looked like a heroine in a classical tragedy.

  "Beautiful," he murmured, his warm hazel eyes exposing feelings she preferred not to recognize.

  "You look pretty, too," she said lightly, and meant the compliment. Adrian was attractive enough to get his fair share of female attention. No doubt about it. He wasn't as tall as Louis, but he had the compact, muscular build of an athlete and carried himself with a lithe grace. His open, good-natured face was framed by the thick mass of sun-bleached curls.

  "Well?" His voice held a tinge of amusement, and she blushed at the realization that she had been staring at him for several seconds.

  "Uh-huh. I was just telling myself how lucky I am to have such a handsome escort," she quipped lightly and couldn't repress the imp in the back of her mind who taunted, Why can't you be casual and natural like this with Louis? Because he matters too much, she hissed back at the tormentor.

  "Too bad you tied yourself down without considering the advantages of a permanent escort like me," he returned in a voice equally light, but serious at the same time.

  "It's a little late for such thoughts," she said slowly as they walked out to Adrian's low-slung sports car.

  "There's always divorce," he said very carefully.

  "You're forgetting one thing. Someone with my upbringing takes her marriage vows very seriously. Besides, I have no grounds for divorce." Her voice was husky with the effort of speaking calmly about divorcing the man she loved. She knew she would never be the one to initiate divorce proceedings, while at the same time she wouldn't stand in the way of Louis's happiness if he asked her for a divorce.

  Both she and Adrian seemed to make a conscious effort to direct the conversation to pleasant topics on the drive to Lafayette, where they dined at a new steak house with a Spanish decor. The atmosphere was quietly intimate and the food good. Afterward they drove around and checked to see what movies were playing, deciding finally to see a light comedy.

  "I think you chose this one because it's G," Adrian teased, referring to the rating of the movie for the general public, which meant it lacked explicit sex scenes and raw language.

  "I'm only thinking about your young morals," Nicole retorted, unable to restrain a tiny blush at the astuteness of his observation.

  Settling into seats about midway in the theater, Adrian offered her a gigantic container of buttered popcorn, whispering, "Now for the real reason behind coming to the movies."

  The movie was definitely lightweight entertainment about the mishaps and practical jokes at a large summer camp for children. Nicole laughed spontaneously at some of the slapstick antics, more relaxed than she had been since that fateful trip to New Orleans.

  Afterward she declined his offer of a drink or a cup of coffee, insisting it was late and they should be making the drive back. He didn't demur, and they passed the next hour in companionable silence, except for several desultory lapses into conversation. She wondered wistfully why she couldn't have gotten herself emotionally involved with someone warm and safe like Adrian.

  "How about just one little cup of coffee?" he wheedled as they drove into the big half circle in front of Mimosa House.

  "It's late," she protested, hearing the halfhearted consent in her own tone.

  "One late night isn't going to put permanent hollows in your lovely cheeks. Please."

  "Okay, okay, you win. But just one cup!"

  They tiptoed into the house like fellow conspirators, giggling at the noise they made in their exaggerated effort to be quiet. Nicole led him back to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. While it came to a boil, she ladled coffee grounds into the central compartment of the French drip-style coffeepot.

  A few minutes later they sat opposite each other drinking the fragrant coffee. Adrian cocked his head toward the door. "Hear anything?"

  "No, it's probably just a new ghost taking up residence," she teased playfully.

  He leaned over and laid
his hand on hers, causing her to look up into his eyes with a startled expression. "I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed tonight," he said in a low voice filled with an emotion that made her squirm uncomfortably.

  "Please," she whispered, pulling her hand away with gentle determination, only to have him reclaim it in a firmer clasp. Sighing deeply, she said in a regretful voice, "Adrian, please don't get involved with me. It isn't wise. As I tried to explain tonight, my marriage vows are forever."

  He looked at her with a strange light in his eyes. "It's awkward bringing this up—but I have to. A marriage can be annulled if—if it hasn't been consummated."

  "I'm afraid that condition doesn't exist in this marriage, Dessommes, so I'll bid you goodnight." The icy voice came from the doorway. The couple sitting at the table jerked their heads in that direction, and Nicole snatched her hand from Adrian's as the scorching glance of Louis Chauvin eyed the clasp with withering scorn.

  With an incoherent exclamation she jumped to her feet, hating the guilt she emanated. "Where did you come from—you weren't supposed to—" Adrian was staring at his employer with a sickened expression on his tanned features, looking as if his greatest hope in life had suddenly dissipated right before his eyes, "Sorry, old man," he said soberly. "I guess I had no right."

  "No, you didn't," Louis said sternly. "If you plan to stay here, you'll have to get one thing clear. Nicole is my wife. There will be no divorce."

  Adrian looked questioningly at Nicole for a long moment, then left the room with a strangled "Goodnight." She stood next to the table with her head slightly bowed so that her gaze was riveted on the glossy brown leather shoes of the implacable man in the doorway. Her hands were clasped in front of her in an unconsciously beseeching attitude.