“Let me go!” Lianne wiggled free from Daniel’s restraining arms. Hurriedly she buttoned her bodice and shook out her skirt. She urged Daniel to make himself presentable, but he grinned and drove her mad as he put himself back in order in a lazy fashion, as if he had all the time in the world.
“Hurry!” she ordered.
By the time Philippe entered the parlor, Lianne and Daniel presented a respectable picture. She sat demurely on the couch and sipped her tea, which had grown quite cold, and he finished another whiskey.
“I wondered whose horse that was outside,” Philippe said and extended his hand to Daniel.
“I decided to pay my respects,” Daniel told him and shook his hand, “but Lianne said you weren’t home.”
Lianne felt amazement at Daniel’s calmness. Inside she shook and had to put down the teacup which rattled in her hand. She hoped her dress wasn’t wrinkled and that her hair was smooth. Most of all she wondered if her lips looked as swollen as they felt. Was her guilt showing on her face for Philippe to see?
“I thought you were headed into New Orleans.” Lianne folded her hands in her lap.
Philippe nodded. “The rain washed out the road. I didn’t wish to take a chance with the carriage and horses. Nothing’s worse than being stuck in ankle-deep mud. So, I ordered the driver to turn around. You’re not unhappy to see me so soon, are you, chérie?”
She smiled but evaded his question as she stood up. “I’ll go get you a nice warm cup of tea.”
“Don’t bother. What I really want is a warm bath. I’m chilled to the bone. Come join me, Lianne.”
She flushed from her toes to the roots of her hair. Philippe wasn’t asking her but telling her to bathe with him. She knew better than to protest in Daniel’s presence.
“We should bid our guest goodbye, Philippe.”
Philippe nodded to Daniel. “Adieu, Daniel. Give our regards to Amelie.”
Daniel rose from his chair. For an instant Lianne noted a flicker of dislike pass across Daniel’s face for Philippe. But when he spoke, his voice was steady.
“We should dine together soon.”
“Of course. That would be most pleasant.” Philippe took Lianne’s hand and walked her into the foyer, stopping at the staircase. “Now,” he said and his eyes lit upon Lianne’s body, not bothering to hide his lust, “you can soap my back, chérie.”
Before Daniel’s glittering gaze, Philippe practically dragged her up the stairs. For one second her face turned toward Daniel in a glance of hopelessness.
The last he saw of her was the lace hem of her petticoat before she disappeared from view.
Philippe’s hands encircled the globular fullness of Lianne’s breasts and pinched each nipple. His breath fanned hot on the back of her neck as his fingers traced the pathway of her abdomen to the spot between her legs and lingered there.
She sat in front of him, their legs drawn up, against the sides of the tub, and felt powerless to stop him from touching her. After being with Daniel, she viewed Philippe with dread. The constant motion of his hands across her body stirred the bath water. She felt his male hardness against her and knew he was ready for her but wanted a passionate response before he took her. She knew very easily she could fake it, but she was tired of playing games with Philippe, tired of pretending she desired him.
“What’s wrong, chérie? Aren’t I man enough for you?”
“I’m rather tired.”
He sniffed. “You’re always tired lately. I’ve never had trouble pleasuring women before you.”
“I’d just like to go to bed.”
“Then I shall oblige you.”
To her surprise he stood up and yanked her from the water. He stepped out of the tub and picked her up in his arms. “We shall retire together, Lianne. Before this night is over, you shall be tired of having me in you!”
His face looked distorted in the candlelight, and he threw her in the center of the bed, not seeming to care that her wet body shivered from the chill in the air and from fear. He fell on top of her and pinned her hands to the bed.
“You’re my wife, and I think it’s time you give me my due as your husband. After tonight, you’ll never deny me again!”
“I’ve never done that!” she cried and tried to twist away from him.
“No? Then why is it you don’t care for my kisses, my touch? Why is it that when I find you alone with Daniel Flanders your face is crimson and your eyes so bright they could light up the sky?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His eyes darkened.
“Liar! You want Daniel Flanders to make love to you. Or did you and Daniel make love in the parlor? Was that why you looked so guilty?”
“Philippe, stop this!”
“I noticed your rumpled gown. I’m not someone you can twist around your fingers, Lianne, someone you can take from but give nothing back in return. I’m more of a man than Daniel can ever hope to be. I’ll prove it to you.”
Philippe turned her onto her stomach and pulled her upward. Then he entered her body from behind. He filled her with his length and held her roughly against him until he groaned in completion. More than once he took her during the night, not caring or considerate of her pleasure. Afterward, she lay beside him, defeated and shaking; he fell asleep.
When the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Lianne was still awake. Philippe woke and dressed and told her he was leaving for New Orleans. Standing over her and peering at her, he said, “Who is more of the man, chérie?”
When she didn’t answer, he grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her to a sitting position. “Who is the man?”
She gazed at him with pain-filled eyes. “You … you are, Philippe.”
Satisfied, he tossed her onto the pillows. “Remember that. Otherwise, I will be forced to rid you of your lover.”
After Philippe’s departure, she lay in a stupor. She knew she’d never have a future with Daniel, but she feared Philippe’s rages and what he’d do to her and her child, or Daniel, if provoked. Somehow she must convince Philippe that she was content in their marriage, play the faithful wife. But she hugged her pillow to her breasts and sobbed Daniel’s name into the downy softness.