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Strong arms closed around her, and surprise made her sag limply against him. "Let me go. How dare you!" she whispered desperately, alarmed at the tide of excitement coursing through her weak body in response to the crushing contact with his hard masculinity.

  "I dare because you're my wife—" His low voice vibrated with passion and she shivered as he pushed aside her long hair with one hand and pressed his mouth against her neck. She was powerless to protest when he turned her around in his arms, smoothing her hair back from her face with hands that were strangely unsteady.

  Without warning her knees buckled under her, and she reached out and grasped his waist for support. With a low groan he drew her against him in a bone-crushing embrace, his heart pounding erratically under her cheek.

  "Nicole, I need you…" he murmured, and she lifted her head to stare up at him in wonder, eyes widening at the expression on the face of this man who was always so utterly self-possessed, so completely in control. Then, before she knew what his intentions were, he had picked her up and laid her across the yellow satin coverlet, lowering himself beside her and taking her lips in a long, searching kiss that took her breath away with its undisguised urgency.

  Panic gripped her as she realized what was happening, and she tried to push him away. But her efforts were made feeble by the tremors of sensation awakened by the tantalizing exploration of his mouth on her neck and cheeks and eyelids and finally the trembling softness of her lips. Her hands turned traitor and slipped up around his neck, caressing the strong bone structure under the fine dark hair.

  Her caresses inflamed his already aroused passion, and he half lay on top of her, one taut, muscular leg pinning her to the bed. The intimacy of their contact made her aware of his masculine need and unleashed a sexual response in her body so powerful and unfamiliar that it shocked her into the realization that she was on the very brink of making love with a man who had married her without love and did not love her now— who might in the very near future realize that she was unsuitable to be his wife.

  Her only recourse now that matters were so out of hand was to remain passive, she resolved frantically. When Louis awakened to her lack of response to his lovemaking, he, too, would come to his senses and remember the marriage condition to which he had agreed.

  But in spite of her firm intentions to the contrary, her lips softened under his, and she moaned deep in her throat as his tongue probed the sweetness of her mouth, which no man before him had ever known. "No!" she whispered as his hands slid under the thin fabric of her nightgown and caressed the slender curves. She held her breath as he captured her rounded breasts, lack of experience having left her totally unprepared for the surge of longing that assailed her as her nipples hardened against his kneading palms. An unfamiliar ache throbbed into life in her lower torso.

  He was breathing unevenly as he sat up and began to unbutton his shirt, awkward because his hands were trembling. Nicole watched him dazedly, perceiving his intentions. During those few seconds when he was not touching her, the cold chill of reason descended on her feverish brain. She couldn't allow him to make love to her—not when he didn't love her the way she loved him—with all her heart and soul.

  What was she thinking! It was true—she loved Louis. The shock of her newfound insight gave her the strength she desperately needed to resist him. "You promised!" she whispered pleadingly.

  He went rigid, staring down at her white face with its enormous dark eyes, the long tresses of shining brown hair rippling over the yellow satin coverlet. She closed her eyes against the unspoken question in his, not daring to risk giving away the truth. Deep down she didn't want him to keep his promise, but she couldn't bear to let him know how much she wanted him, because then he would know she loved him. With the tenuousness of their marriage relationship, it was fairer to both of them to conceal from him her deep emotional involvement.

  "You promised," she said again, dully, as if she had already retreated to some safe place out of his reach. During the long, tense silence, it took all her willpower not to open her eyes and look at him.

  "Why did I ever make such a fool arrangement!" he grated angrily and rose abruptly from the bed. The muted click of the door held painful finality. Nicole was alone. The tight leash of control slipped and her slender body convulsed with great, painful sobs for the hopelessness of her situation. She had only herself to blame for falling in love with a husband who didn't love her, who might still be emotionally bound to the woman he'd wanted to marry. And that woman had made it plain she still wanted him—and intended to get him.

  Chapter Six

  Ignoring the faint dark smudges under her eyes, Nicole plaited her thick brown hair into a single braid, fastened the favorite gold hoops in her pierced ears, and went downstairs to breakfast in a crisp navy tennis skirt and a beige knit blouse with a navy collar and pert cap sleeves. She carried the tailored navy jacket that completed the smart outfit.

  She pushed aside the nagging memories of the previous evening and looked forward to a tennis lesson with Adrian this morning. It was one of those crisp fall days so rare in Louisiana, where the humidity lingered in the enervating eighties or nineties most of the year. She couldn't wait to get outside in the exhilarating air and abandon herself to the freedom of physical movement and the total mental concentration tennis demanded. How she loved it! And how grateful she was to Adrian for his tutelage.

  Her springy step faltered and her smile faded around the edges as she saw one person too many sitting at the table in the sunny breakfast room. A golden head was positioned in her customary place. Angela evidently had considered the previous night only a temporary setback in carrying out her plans to reinstate herself in Louis's life. She was already here for breakfast!

  Her icy blue eyes raked Nicole from head to toe, taking in every detail of the chic tennis outfit. The corners of her mouth seemed to turn down in a quick spurt of contempt.

  "I told her she was sitting in your chair, Nicole," Elaine blurted vehemently, resentment clouding her usually vivacious young face.

  "Oh, you don't mind, do you, Nicole?" Angela parried in a tight voice, looking daggers at Nicole's young ally. "It's not easy to break old habits."

  Nicole slid into a chair beside Adrian, who looked extremely uncomfortable with the collision of personalities. She turned to him with a glowing smile. "I can't wait for our lesson this morning. I've been looking forward to it for days, and it's gorgeous outside!"

  His eyes ignited in response to her warmth. "Sorry I've had to neglect your tennis lately…" His voice .trailed off lamely, as if he'd realized suddenly that the person responsible for his being so busy was his employer and also seated at the table.

  Up until now Nicole had avoided looking directly at Louis, but a quick glance under her lowered lashes confirmed the cold .arrogance stamped on his handsome face. He didn't look at all pleased.

  "Adrian says Nicole is a real natural at tennis," Elaine said pointedly, looking at Angela with open dislike.

  The compliment to Nicole brought twin spots of angry color to Angela's cheeks. Suddenly an idea dawned, illuminating her features as she spoke to Louis. "I almost forgot! The mixed doubles championship tournament is coming up. Shall we defend our title from last year?"

  Nicole bristled in resentment at the intimate tone in Angela's voice. Instinctively she knew Louis would refuse out of the same sense of propriety that had prompted him to tell Angela last night that no one except his wife would be hostess of Mimosa House for the Tour of Homes.

  "Adrian has kindly agreed to be my partner," she inserted quickly into the short silence, feeling the surprised looks from both Adrian and Elaine. In the electric pause following her announcement, she concentrated on spreading strawberry preserves on a hot biscuit.

  "I guess we have our work cut out for us, Angela," Louis said in a sardonic voice.

  Nicole didn't have to look at Angela to comprehend the smug expression on her blond features. Satisfaction oozed in her voice as she suggested eagerly, "I'll
just run home and slip on some tennis togs, and Louis and I will take you two on in a little practice match!"

  "Not a chance," Adrian refused flatly. "Nicole and I have a lesson scheduled."

  "Louis," Angela objected plaintively, "it's your tennis court."

  "Never let it be said we denied our opponents every advantage," Louis said mockingly, and Nicole could feel his stinging gaze, but she steadfastly resisted the temptation to look over at him. "We can probably get up a practice game over at the club this morning," he said finally.

  "Ready, Nicole?" Adrian's expression betrayed his eagerness to escape the abrasive atmosphere. She rose quickly and accepted his help in donning the navy-blue jacket, well aware that, if baleful eyes could kill, she would be at least seriously wounded by the hostility in Angela's blue eyes.

  On her way out she heard Elaine proclaim, "Those two are going to be a tough team, believe me." The little troublemaker! Nicole's lips twitched into a small smile of gratitude for the girl's intense loyalty.

  Five minutes later she had forgotten everything except the business at hand as Adrian drilled her on ground strokes and net volleys. After some forty-five minutes of intensive practice, he began to instruct her in the correct technique for hitting an overhead smash. Thirty minutes later she was gasping from the strenuous exertion. Adrian took pity on her and called a halt to the lesson. "That's enough for today."

  "Thank you, Adrian," she said with a smile of appreciation as they stood together at one side of the net zipping on racquet covers.

  "I loved every minute," he said simply. "But I was a little surprised to learn we were playing together in the mixed doubles tournament."

  "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment impulse," she admitted ruefully, wondering how much Adrian had grasped of the undercurrents at breakfast. "I don't, for one minute, expect you to go through with it. You deserve a real partner."

  "Don't give me that 'real partner' business. You've committed yourself. No backing out now." She closed her mouth at the finality in his voice.

  "In the meantime, I have a book back at the cottage I want you to read. On mixed doubles strategy. Why don't you walk back with me now? It's at least an hour before lunch time, and we can start going over some of the main points."

  They strolled side by side along the shell-covered lane winding under huge live oak trees with great sprawling limbs wreathed in Spanish moss. Adrian's cottage was about five hundred yards from the main house, nestled in lush azalea shrubs that blazed into blooming glory in early spring. Nicole had been inside it several times, but always before with Elaine. Now she felt a slight sense of embarrassment as she followed him up the steps onto the front porch—called a gallery or veranda in this area of the South—overlooking the swift brown currents of the bayou. "I'll wait here," she said, dropping down on the cushioned porch swing at one end of the porch.

  It was gloriously quiet and peaceful here near the bayou, with just an occasional mysterious splash. On the other side the cypress trees grew right down to the swampy edge of the water, their rich green prickly foliage having faded to a brownish yellow in the fall. Out of sight beyond the border of low marshland were canefields stretching mile after mile, all part of the vast Chauvin plantation system.

  Adrian returned with the book and dropped down beside her on the swing. Heads close together, they studied the illustrations and diagrams in the first chapter, with Adrian explaining the role of each player in several common situations in doubles.

  Something alerted Nicole to a subtle change, and she looked up from the book to find him staring at her with an intent expression on his face. Their eyes locked for several breathless seconds.

  "I want to know what's going on," he said bluntly, and she didn't bother to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. It was inevitable that sooner or later she would have to take him into her confidence, at least to a certain degree. After all, he was undeniably a close friend to the three of them—Louis, Elaine, and herself. He must be puzzled. With a heavy sigh, she explained briefly the circumstances behind her marriage to Louis, expressing as delicately as possible her role as wife in name only.

  "And now the original bride-to-be is back, making disgruntled noises about having been replaced," he commented perceptively.

  Nicole's velvet brown eyes were haunted with memories of last evening. "Angela wants him back," she said, unaware of the pain in her voice.

  He reached out a gentle hand with strong, blunt fingers and tilted her chin so that she had to look up into the honey warmth of his hazel eyes. "And how do you feel about the fallen angel's pursuit of your husband?" Something in his voice and eyes told her the answer was of more than casual interest to this very kind young man.

  She did not mask the truth from him as she stared up into his concerned features, and an expression of fleeting torment darkened his eyes before he pulled her close into his arms. "You love him, don't you?"

  She nodded mutely, feeling no inclination to pull away from the warmth and understanding he offered. It was such a relief to share the closely guarded secret with another human being, even though the sharing made it terribly real.

  "Being my wife's tennis partner doesn't give you the freedom to make love to her."

  They instinctively jerked apart, giving an impression of guilt, at the black fury in Louis's voice, and the book in Nicole's lap crashed to the floor. He had come around the corner of the house without either of them having been aware of his approach. He stood there now, looking tall and virile in tennis shorts and shirt that emphasized the taut masculinity of his tall physique, but the clean-cut features were chiseled of uncompromising stone and the dark blue eyes were almost black now as he glared at the couple in the porch swing.

  "Are you ready?" he asked Nicole in a voice brittle with control that hovered on the edge of violence.

  "This isn't what you think," Adrian said in a strained voice, and she understood in a flash why he hadn't launched into an explanation immediately upon Louis's appearance. Adrian felt constrained not to say anything to give away her confidence. He preferred to risk looking like a culprit rather than betray her!

  Louis ignored Adrian altogether, staring at Nicole as she picked up the book with clumsy fingers and began to walk stiffly beside him toward the main house. Her knees were shaky at the realization of what he might have heard had he arrived a few seconds earlier. He would have witnessed her abject admission to Adrian that she loved this arrogant man to whom she was no more than a pawn he'd employed when he needed her. Better that he misconstrue Adrian's innocent embrace than know the truth.

  "Did you have a good game at the club?" she asked tentatively after seconds of tense silence.

  The dark blue eyes scorched her face. Ignoring the banality she'd offered as a bridge to their former polite relationship, he said scathingly, "Nice of you to pick Adrian for your doubles partner without even consulting my wishes on the matter. I'm not exactly a clumsy oaf on the tennis court, if I do have to say so myself."

  "But you wanted to play as Angela's partner," she said lamely, puzzled at the note of injury underlying the anger in his words.

  His eyebrows rose in furious mockery. "Oh, did I? And how did you happen to glean that bit of insight, since you couldn't possibly overhear what I say in my sleep?"

  She reddened at the implication. They'd come to a standstill beneath the hoary branches of one of the aged live oaks. She was breathtakingly aware of his physical presence, his anger only intensifying the potency of the masculinity he emanated. Her fingertips tingled with the daring impulse to reach out and smooth away the frown on those tense, handsome features.

  Taking a deep breath, she chose her words with care, trying to be as honest as possible without revealing too much. "Elaine first suggested Adrian and I play together in the club mixed doubles tournament—she probably assumed you and Angela wouldn't want to break up a winning team. I had no intention of playing at all, since I'm just a beginner."

  "Then this morning, w
hen Angela brought up the subject of the tournament, I was afraid you would refuse to play as her partner out of consideration for my feelings. So—I…"

  "You ignored my feelings and announced you were playing with Adrian, who doesn't seem in the least bothered at having a beginner for a partner." She flinched at the savagery of his sarcasm. He sounded really angry over what didn't seem to be very important.

  "Adrian is a very good friend," she praised sincerely.

  "Oh, is he?" he mocked, with a curl of the handsome mouth. "Well, he'd better keep his hands off my wife, if he knows what's good for him."

  She had to walk fast now to keep up with his long strides. "I'm not going to play in the tournament," she stated into the silence broken only by the crunch of their tennis shoes on the bleached clamshells covering the winding lane.

  "Oh, yes, you are." He laughed without humor. "Angela took care of that today, much to the delight of everyone present at the club. If you backed out now, the tongues would really wag—and the Chauvin name has been the main topic of gossip long enough."

  So that was the reason for this display of anger and resentment. She had entertained the tiniest hope he cared that she was teaming up with a man other than himself. How foolish of her!

  Her spirits dropped dismally as they went into the house together for lunch. She looked around expectantly in the small glassed-in sun porch where they usually ate breakfast and lunch. She had fully expected Angela to be there gloating.

  "Just the two of us, I'm afraid," came his low voice behind her, as if reading her mind.

  "How dull for you," she blurted without sarcasm. He must find her colorless indeed after a morning in Angela's company. The thought accentuated her natural shyness in his company, and he seemed totally absorbed in his own thoughts. The result was a silent meal that Nicole found impossible to get down.

  In the days following, she saw very little of him. He seemed occupied with business responsibilities most of the time, coming home only to sleep at Mimosa House. Although he still traveled frequently to various cities outside the state, the trips never lasted longer than two or three days, making Nicole certain he had deliberately stayed away during those first four months of their marriage.