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  "You know, don't you," Blaise's voice was so harsh it gave Julie a jolt, "that Sutton is only here for the pickings?"

  "What do you mean?" she gasped.

  "He obviously heard about your wealthy grandfather somehow, figured out that you're bound to come in for your share of it and now he's decided that you're not such a bad bargain after all!"

  "You're wrong!" Julie's voice shook with rage over his cold cynicism. "No one knows for certain about my inheritance except Grandpa and you, and besides, Duane isn't the sort to make a play for a girl's money. He fell in love with me when I was poor."

  Blaise nodded and there was an ugly twist to his smile. "That's right, but he also broke off with you when the goings got rough, too. Or have you forgotten that so soon?"

  "And you have the nerve to call me hard-boiled!" she exclaimed. "Listen to you and your sweeping judgments!"

  Blaise shrugged. "I'm merely realistic." His eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Just don't go making any plans you can't carry through. Play with your old boyfriend while he's here, have fun, but just remember that you belong to me."

  "I don't!" Julie hissed. "I don't and I never will!"

  "Oh yes, you do," came the grim reply, "and it's high time I proved it!" Before Julie could even guess at his intention, he had crushed her in his arms and her face was being rained with kisses… her lips, her eyes, her cheeks.

  At first she resisted, every line in her body taut with determination to remain aloof, but though his mouth traveled possessively across her moist lips and down to burn the tender flesh of her throat, it was not a violent assault. Neither was it tender. It was a fiery hunger that threatened to devour her and it awoke a kindling flame within her. As his hands moved sensuously from her hips up her ribcage to cup her breasts, warm answering desire weakened her limbs, so that she could only cling helplessly to him.

  Then Blaise's hands reached around to her back and he unzipped her dress. It slithered to the floor as he swooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Julie was no longer rational. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a memory of Rosalind, of Duane, of the fact that Blaise did not love her, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered just now was this dreadful ache in her body that cried out for satisfaction, the warm light of desire in Blaise's eyes as he came down beside her.

  Later, in the darkness, they lay close. Julie's head was nestled in the crook of Blaise's arm and her hand lay on his bare, warm chest. She was smiling with utter contentment and she knew in that moment what she had denied to herself for so long. She was in love with Blaise. How or when it had happened, she didn't know, but there it was.

  "Julie?" Blaise said softly.

  "Yes?"

  "Do you hate me?" His voice was quiet.

  "No. Oh, no!" she exclaimed. But all the same, she could not tell him of her newly discovered love. Despite what had just happened between them, she was not at all certain of his feelings toward her.

  Now she could almost hear the smile in his voice. "That's good," he murmured, "because I certainly don't hate you. And I take back everything I ever said to you about being frigid."

  Julie's face flamed and she was grateful for the concealing darkness. It didn't bear thinking about… the shameless and abandoned way she had behaved! "I… I guess I should go to my own room now," she said hesitantly.

  Blaise's arm tightened about her shoulder and he turned his head toward her and kissed her somewhere in the region of her left ear. "No," he whispered firmly, "you're staying right here where you belong. Now, let's get to sleep, darling."

  Happily, Julie snuggled closer against his chest. Tomorrow, she decided sleepily, could take care of itself.

  Chapter Eight

  Morning sunlight blazed across the patchwork quilt, casting shadows in the indentation of the pillow where a head had rested and warming the slender hand which moved searchingly across the empty space of the bed.

  Julie opened her eyes and her sleepy gaze traveled around the room. She was entirely alone. Blaise's side of the bed was cold, mute testimony to the fact that he must have been up for some time; further evidence was the bright sunlight itself, for the window shutters had been closed last night. Although the door that led into the hall was firmly shut, the bathroom door stood ajar, as did the closet door. Obviously, Blaise had already had his shower, dressed and gone downstairs while she had still been asleep.

  Now, Julie yawned lazily and sat upright. The covers slid down, revealing her nudity and reminding her of the night. With a tiny, satisfied smile, she left the bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom.

  She hummed a tune beneath the spray of warm water that caressed her skin as she showered. She was gloriously happy this morning. No longer was she embarrassed by her actions last night. Rather, she looked with anticipation to the night ahead and to the magical wonder it would surely bring as well. Last night Blaise had been all she had ever dreamed of in a lover: tender, yet passionate, gentle, yet masterful, and he had carried her to previously unsealed heights of joy and fulfillment. Yes, her heart sang now, she loved him, and regardless of what the future might hold, no one could ever take away from her the ecstasy she had experienced in his arms.

  And just now, the future looked bright. Blaise had made no mention yesterday of wanting to end their marriage. Instead, he had possessed her in the one way that proved he wanted her to be his wife in fact, as well as legally, so even if he did not return her love yet, surely with three years time there was every chance that he would come to love her, too? And after last night, he must feel a certain degree of affection for her, mustn't he?

  Julie stepped out of the shower, dried herself quickly and slipped into a white sundress that looked well against her golden skin. She sprayed a little cologne in the dusky hollow between her breasts, brushed her hair, put a light coating of color on her lips and hurried from the room. It was early yet, and maybe, just maybe, Blaise would still be at breakfast and she would get to see him before he left for the day. Somehow it seemed of vital importance that she should, if for no other reason than just to receive one of his smiles to carry her through the day. And yet, she chided herself as she ran down the stairs, she could not expect it to be the same tender smile that had been on his lips for her last night.

  She entered the breakfast room eagerly and stopped short in consternation. Blaise was there, all right, but so was Duane. How had she forgotten about him, she wondered wildly as both men glanced up to see her.

  Duane immediately jumped to his feet and came toward her. "There you are, darling!" he exclaimed heartily. Then Julie was swept into an unexpectedly strong embrace and soundly kissed. Julie was so surprised that she could not react in any manner whatever. She neither responded nor protested, and a moment later, when Duane released her, there was a slightly puzzled expression in his eyes.

  Julie was not concerned with Duane, however. The instant he stepped to one side, she had a clear view of Blaise, and what she saw in his face almost made her cry out. His mouth might have been chiseled from stone and his dark eyes held no trace of the tenderness that had softened them the night before; now they held only cold contempt.

  "Come sit down," Duane was saying, "and I'll pour you a cup of coffee." His hand lightly touched Julie's elbow and she jerked away as though it had been a water moccasin.

  Blaise got to his feet and said to no one in particular, "I'd better be getting to the office." Without bothering to even look at Julie again, thus missing the silent appeal in her eyes, he brushed past her and left the room.

  "I… you'll have to excuse me for a minute, Duane," she said awkwardly. "There's something I must speak to Blaise about before he leaves." Now, she too hurried from the room.

  She had to run halfway across the lawn before she finally caught up with him as he strode toward the garage.

  "Blaise… please, wait!" she cried out to his taut back.

  He paused at last beneath one of the huge meandering branches of an oak, and whe
n he turned to look down at her, his eyes were so icy that Julie felt a sudden chill.

  There was a short, tense silence. "Well?" he asked in an unhelpful voice.

  Well, what? Julie wondered herself. She had frantically followed him but now, beneath his frozen gaze, she did not know what to say to him. And yet, she had to say something or she would look even more of a fool than she already did.

  "I… well, I was wondering whether you could take the day off."

  Something flickered briefly in his eyes and then it was gone. It was as though, Julie thought, a light had flashed on, but had been quickly extinguished.

  "Why?" Blaise stood very still, watching her.

  Julie shrugged and stared down at the grass. "You only just got back from a trip yesterday," she said. "You deserve at least one day off. I thought… I thought maybe we could drive up to St. Francisville, show Duane some of the old plantation homes? I… you know, I've never had the opportunity to see them myself, yet." Hopefully, her lashes swept up and she met his gaze once more.

  "Sorry." Blaise's voice was as stark and unbending as the straight lines of his body. "I have work to do. Besides, I have no intentions of sitting around watching that fortune-hunter kiss you every five minutes. I told you before I left on that trip that we needed to talk about us, Julie. After last night, if you don't have the courage to tell the world we're married, I'm through with you. You're playing some sort of hot and cold game, but I won't play along."

  Julie stared at him. There was nothing she wanted more than to tell the world they were married… if only she knew he returned her love. But the hostile expression he wore now bore little resemblance to the man who had made love to her last night. He was once again a cold stranger, someone she did not know.

  And yet, he wanted the marriage announced, her heart reminded her. In spite of his coldness at the moment, she must mean something to him or he would not…

  Her thoughts, their intense awareness of each other, was shattered by the sudden honking of a horn. They both looked up to see a car sweep around the drive and draw to a halt.

  Numbly, Julie watched as Rosalind got out of the car and came toward them. She held out a hand toward Blaise. "Darling, I know you're about to leave for work, but I haven't seen you in two weeks and I was lonely." Julie might have been a wild flower beneath the tree, because Rosalind never even glanced at her before she threw her arms around Blaise's neck and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.

  Blaise's hands had gone to Rosalind's waist and a moment later as he released her and Rosalind was slowly unwinding her arms, Blaise's gaze locked with Julie's. There was a cruel smile to his lips, a smile that told her clearly just how unimportant she really was to him.

  Julie turned sharply away and walked purposefully toward the house. Fool! she sneered at herself with every step. Fool! Fool to have thought for one minute that she could ever mean anything to Blaise. And now she knew why he had brought up the matter of announcing their marriage. It was not what he wanted at all. He had been baiting her. He had been angry about Duane's sudden appearance and he merely wanted to humiliate her. That was why he had made love to her last night. He had always wanted her physically and the sight of Duane had spurred him on to take what he had wanted. And today he had tried to demean her further by forcing her to admit she wanted to acknowledge their marriage publicly. Had she done so, then he could have shamed her by saying he was not ready to do so. And there could be no question about that, she thought bitterly, with Rosalind in his arms.

  Altogether, for Julie, it could scarcely have been a more miserable day. Duane insisted they get away from the house for a few hours and so Julie decided her original idea of a visit to St. Francisville was just as good a place as any other. But she had no desire to spend the entire time alone with Duane and she also invited Bobby along. Bobby was happy to go, since Tony was away visiting his grandparents for a few days, but Duane was less than enthusiastic.

  "We haven't been alone together in months, Julie," he grumbled complainingly as they waited in the car while Bobby ran inside the house to say goodbye to his mother, "so why did you have to spoil it by inviting him along? You knew I wanted it to be just the two of us."

  Julie shrugged unfeelingly. "It'll be a nice trip for him as well as educational. If I don't mind him coming along, why should you?"

  Duane merely shook his head, as though to remind her that she was stubborn, when Bobby returned and climbed into the back seat of the car.

  The small community of St. Francisville was said to have been named after Saint Francis of Assisi by Capuchin friars who built a monastery there in the late eighteenth century. Although the monastery had long since burned to the ground, the area was rich in antebellum tradition.

  First, they visited the town itself, viewing the Town Hall and other old buildings and going inside the small Historical Society Museum. Bobby was fascinated with the items of yesteryears on display, but Duane was frankly bored and soon went outside to wait for them.

  Next, they visited the Myrtles Plantation and, inside the entrance hall of the house with its faux bois wood and tole chandelier from France, they stood for a few minutes with a growing crowd of other guests as they waited for the guide to begin their tour.

  "Julie," Duane whispered, "why don't we just wait outside while Bobby takes the tour. We can talk and…"

  "Don't be silly," Julie said sharply. "We can't leave him in here alone and, besides, I'd like to look over the house myself."

  "What for? It's just an old house crammed full of a lot of old furniture. Who cares?" he grumbled. "I want to talk about us. I didn't drive all the way down here from Oklahoma just to look at…"

  "Shhh." Julie held a finger to her lips as their tour guide began speaking. "Later," she added.

  Throughout the tour, as the group was herded from one room to another and given a lecture on eighteenth-century allegorical painting, shell-motif plaster work and the various types of furnishings, Julie was aware of Duane's dour presence at her side. If he had not been along, she could really have enjoyed this day, she told herself irritably. But he was plainly not enjoying the sightseeing; he was angry because Bobby was along and it could not fail to dull her own appreciation.

  "This sofa is from the Doom Palace in Holland and…"

  Her criticism of Duane was not entirely fair, Julie admitted to herself a few minutes later. Although she wore a polite, interested expression on her face, the truth was an entire five minutes had slipped by and she had not heard a single word the guide had said. Her own thoughts had drifted unhappily back to Blaise. A sick feeling of despair knotted in her throat. Why, her heart cried out, had she been so foolish as to fall in love with him?

  "… and though the Union soldiers were actually in this room they never realized that the false-front books concealed the valuables."

  Julie returned to the present with a jolt as Bobby tugged at her arm and whispered, "Hey, that's a neat idea, isn't it, Julie?"

  She smiled and nodded automatically, but if she had been required to repeat any part of the lecture about the game room in which they now stood, she would have been out of luck.

  The tour concluded a few minutes later, but instead of heading to the gift shop in the back with most of the others, Duane led Julie and Bobby back to the car.

  "Now," he said briskly, "where is this park where we're going to eat?"

  Julie pulled out her map as Duane drove slowly down the winding drive. A short time later, they were back on the highway.

  The Audubon State Commemorative Area was located only a few miles out of St. Francisville and it was so named after the artist-naturalist John James Audubon. Here, he had done many of his famous bird paintings while he had been engaged as a tutor for the daughter of the plantation owner.

  When they entered the park, the atmosphere was at once silent and cool. Giant oaks draped the drive and picnic areas with their beards of Spanish moss. The setting was serenely peaceful and Duane cast a quick smile at Julie. "Thi
s is a perfect place for a picnic," he told her. "It more than makes up for… oh, no!" He groaned as they suddenly came within sight of a clearing to the right in which stood Oakley plantation house. "Not another tour!"

  Julie laughed in spite of herself. "We won't make you go through it," she promised. "If Bobby and I decide to go inside, you can just lounge out here beneath the trees."

  "It's a deal," he said quickly.

  At a picnic table beneath one of the sheltering trees, they ate the lunch Julie had packed earlier. When they had finished, Bobby wanted to walk a short distance away to the pond.

  Left alone together at last, Duane pulled Julie into his arms. "You didn't kiss me last night and this morning Richard was there. Don't you think you owe me a kiss now?" His eyes were alight with warm teasing and as he drew her closer and bent to claim her lips, Julie did not protest. Perhaps it would drive out the vision of another face, help her forget the feel of other arms.

  But it was no good and after a moment, she pulled away. "I think we'd better go find Bobby," she said quietly.

  "He'll be back." Duane's voice was almost brusque. "Snap out of it, Julie. I know you're still angry with me, but you're carrying this thing too far. You know you still love me and that I love you. I want to put my ring back on your finger and set our wedding date."

  Julie tucked her hands behind her as she shook her head. "I told you already, Duane. I'm not going to marry you. I… I wasn't kidding or trying to be coy."