***

  The sun hung low in the evening sky as Max made his way to the house. He couldn't help but worry about Nicole. He'd brought her back to the house and put her in Consuelo's capable hands. He'd left Consuelo scolding Nicole the way that Max wanted to, but thought unwise. The woman frightened him, almost fainting in the cane field that way. He'd been afraid for her and the baby. She had no business coming out there, even if she was concerned about him taking charge of the plantation. She had the baby to think about.

  He'd worried about Nicole and the child all afternoon. When he reached the house he searched until he found Consuelo.

  “How is Nicole?” he asked the little Spanish woman.

  “She's better. I put her to bed and made her rest all afternoon, and she has more color in her cheeks now.” Consuelo frowned at him. “She can't be allowed to do that again.”

  “I know. I've told the stable hands they are not permitted to hitch the wagon for her or saddle a horse during this extreme heat. Mrs. Viel is not to leave the plantation unless someone is with her,” he said as he sat down at the large dinner table all alone.

  “Good,” Consuelo said, watching him.

  “Has she eaten anything?” Max asked, thinking that he dreaded having his meal alone and would miss her company.

  “No. I was going to fix her a tray and take it in,” Consuelo said.

  “I'll take it to her,” he said, standing up, eager to check on her. “That is, if you think she's up to having company.”

  Consuelo stared at him, a furrow in her brow. “She's told me about your marriage,” she said, pausing and gazing at him, her dark eyes watchful. “You seem concerned about her.”

  He frowned, wondering what Nicole had told Consuelo. And yes, he was worried about Nicole.

  “Of course I'm concerned, she's expecting a child. I don't want anything to happen to her or the baby.”

  Consuelo nodded, her observant eyes staring. “It would be good for her to have dinner with you. I'll put both of your plates on a tray and you can take it in to her.”

  The servant hurried out of the room to prepare the plates. Max had yet to figure out her role in the household, though it seemed as if Nicole listened to the older woman.

  Max glanced around the large dining room. The table could easily have seated thirty people, with a sideboard along one wall where the food could be placed. A cord controlled a large punkah fan over the table that could be pulled by a servant, keeping the dinner guests cool during the hot summer months.

  For a moment, Max imagined his grandfather and grandmother entertaining in this room and he could almost hear the sound of their laughter. Rosewood should have been his inheritance and now it would be his son's.

  “Here is the tray,” Consuelo said, coming through the door from the area that led to the pantry, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “Are you sure you don't want me to carry it in?”

  He smiled. “I won't drop it,” he promised. “Just open the door to her bedroom for me.”

  Consuelo gazed up at him with a look that left him feeling as if he'd been warned to keep his distance from Nicole, but dutifully followed him to her bedroom. With a rapid knock, she swung the door open and Max stepped into Nicole's room.

  Pale yellow curtains hung from the windows, with a matching yellow coverlet on the bed. Mosquito netting surrounding the bed had been pushed to the side.

  Nicole sat in bed, reading a book, her wrapper covering her nightgown. He stopped at the sight of her blonde hair cascading down to the pillow, past her shoulders, almost to her waist. He hadn't realized the length of her hair.

  He swallowed and tried to think of something cool and refreshing, because looking at Nicole definitely raised his blood until he felt scorched. His wife didn't realize her beauty and how it affected him. And if she saw his lust for her it would frighten her away.

  “Good evening. I hope you're feeling better,” he said as she gazed up at him, her blue eyes shimmering.

  She smiled. “Much, thank you.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Actually, I'm famished. Whatever you have there smells wonderful.”

  “Well, you can thank Consuelo. She fixed the plates. I hope you don't mind me coming in, but I didn't want to eat alone and I wanted to check on you,” he said, unable to tear his gaze away from his wife.

  The more he knew her the more he liked her gentle spirit, her soft smile, the more ashamed he felt at deceiving her. She deserved so much better and yet he had no choice. Regaining Rosewood was his familial obligation.

  Max placed the tray on a small table and pulled it close to the bed. “There you go. I even brought napkins.”

  He started to tuck a napkin in her wrapper and then caught himself. She gazed at him, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I'm not an invalid, Max. Just expecting a baby.”

  He nodded, and a smile flitted across her face. For the next few minutes they sat enjoying their food, each one watching the other, a comfortable silence between them. Sometimes he felt like he'd known her for years instead of only weeks.

  “You seem to be feeling better. You've eaten quite well,” he said, watching her.

  “I'm starving. This is the first meal I've had since breakfast and I didn't realize how hungry I was,” she said.

  “I'm glad to see you're recovering from this morning,” he said, noticing the color in her cheeks.

  Nicole reached out and touched him on the arm. “Thank you for taking care of me and bringing me home.”

  He smiled at the feel of her hand on his arm, soft and warm. “You're welcome. But promise me you won't drive the wagon or buggy without bringing someone with you.”

  “No, I guess my driving days are rather limited— until after this baby comes.”

  Max sat back and contemplated Nicole, watching her finish her dinner. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  She glanced at him and shrugged. “All I can do is say no; if I don't want to answer it, I won't.”

  “Why did you marry Jean?” Max asked the question that he couldn't help but wonder about these past few weeks. Had she loved Jean Cuvier?

  Nicole stared at him, stunned for a moment. “Believe it or not, Jean Cuvier was wonderful at convincing a woman that she was the most important person in the world to him. I mean, after all, he persuaded all three of us that we were the only women in his life and we trusted him. I didn't question his absences, little things that I should have noticed. I blindly believed whatever he told me.”

  She shook her head. “We had a wonderful life together and I thought we were very much in love. We wanted children, we wanted to travel, and we wanted a big family that could gather here at Rosewood.”

  She sighed, the sound heavy in the early evening light. “But someone poisoned Jean and that's when we wives all found out the truth about our husband.” She paused and gazed at Max. “Funny, I thought Jean and I were happy, but little did I know that everything was a lie.”

  Max shrugged, wondering how he could overcome her resistance to trust after what Jean had done. “You're going to have a problem trusting someone again.”

  “Wouldn't you?” she asked, gazing at him from her bed.

  “Yes,” he said, thinking of how his own manipulation would hurt her. Sooner or later, she would become suspicious when she asked him to leave and he refused. Soon, he would tell Nicole that temporary marriage to him meant until the end of time. Soon she would realize that their lives had become one; but until that time, Max had to build her trust.

  “I could understand if he had tried to make me his mistress, but to marry me ...” she said, her voice filled with hurt and anger.

  Max stood and placed both of their empty plates back on the tray, then walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, facing her. He put his hands in his pockets and crossed his ankles.

  “I'm not offering excuses, but maybe he knew he couldn't marry you, but loved and wanted you,” Max said, thinking any man who didn't want his wife would be crazy. A beautiful, gentle woman, Nicole had put her trust in the wrong man and paid dearly.

  “But that's so unfair to me, to our child, and even to his real wife, Marian. They had children together. How did he think this would affect them?” she said, her voice filled with anger and resentment.

  Max nodded. “I'm not saying what Jean did was right. It was morally wrong, but sometimes where a woman is concerned men don't always make the best decisions.”

  Nicole stared at him, her eyes darkening at his words as she contemplated them. “Have you ever made a bad decision regarding a woman?”

  He almost laughed out loud as he thought of Desiree and his son Paul. One moment of reckless abandonment had brought a life into this world. And the verdict was still out on whether marrying Nicole had been a wise choice or an act of folly.

  His breathing seemed to quicken as he gazed at Nicole lying in bed. He remembered the simple kiss they'd shared at their wedding ceremony and the urge to taste her red-wine lips once again almost overwhelmed him.

  “Only a half a million times,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He couldn't let himself think of her lips or the way her wrapper clung to her full breasts or the fact that she only wore a nightgown beneath those sheets. He couldn't let himself think of any of these things, because Nicole was expecting a baby. And she expected him to depart as soon as the child arrived. She had no plans to consummate their marriage.

  But her plans and his were not the same.

  She laughed. “I find that hard to believe, Max. You don't seem like a man who makes wrong decisions very often.”

  He gazed at her and wondered if she realized what she'd just said. He smiled. “You're right I don't like to be wrong. I like knowing where I'm going and that I'm doing the right thing.”

  “Is that why you married me?” she asked.

  “Partly,” he responded, knowing the much bigger reason she wouldn't want to hear.

  Nicole gasped and gazed down at her belly, placing her hand on her stomach. She looked at him, a smile of relief spreading across her face. “He's alive. I think the baby just moved. I felt a little flutter of movement”

  She laughed out loud and closed her eyes, relieved. “Thank God, the baby is alive. I've been so worried.” He gazed at her, feeling anxious, and then crossed the room to stand beside the bed. He moved the table out of the way and sat down next to her on the bed. She giggled delightfully. “Here, feel it”

  Nicole grabbed his hand and placed it over her abdomen and he felt a faint flutter like a butterfly wing, barely discernible through her nightgown.

  He moved his hand, suddenly realizing where she'd placed it.

  “Did you feel it?” she asked excitedly.

  “I can't feel anything,” he said, feeling awkward about sitting on her bed, touching her so intimately, being this close to Nicole. Though they were married, thoughts of her that he knew he shouldn't be thinking skittered across his mind. None of which had to do with motherhood.

  He stood and picked up the tray of dirty dishes. “I'll take these back to the kitchen so that you can rest” She looked at him, still excited, yet oddly disappointed. “All right. Thanks for being here, Max. I don't think I've told you, but I appreciate you marrying and taking care of me like you have.”

  His conscience twinged as he walked toward the door.

  “You're welcome,” he said, not glancing back at the woman in bed. His mind filled with images of her lying naked in that bed with him beside her. Images that somehow he seemed to think of way too often lately.

  Chapter Six

  Late the next day, Max looked up from the field, stunned at the sight of his son riding horseback alongside his father. Fear that something dreadful brought the two of them here seized him and he ran to meet them on the road.

  They reined in their horses when he reached them. “Papa, Paul, hello. What are the two of you doing here?” he asked, slightly out of breath. “Is Mother all right?”

  Charles glanced at his grandson, and then at Max. “Your mother is fine. But there's a little problem that Paul needs to talk to you about. His mother sent him to live with you after he ran away.”

  Max frowned at his twelve-year-old son. Desiree must have a new man in her life. “What? What happened, Paul?”

  The boy frowned and raised his chin defiantly. “I got tired of Mother's gentlemen friends and ran away.”

  Max absorbed this news and couldn't say that he was surprised at the appearance of his son on his doorstep. The boy's mother breezed in and out of Paul's life on a daily basis and Max knew someday the boy would see the difference in how his parents lived their lives.

  “I want to live with you. I don't want to stay with my mother anymore,” Paul said, his young face stern and rigid.

  “Climb down off your horse and let's sit in the shade where we can talk,” Max told the boy, watching as he swung his long legs over the side of the horse and slid down to the ground. At twelve years of age, Paul's tall and lanky frame had not yet filled out. Somehow his muscles seemed to have fallen behind his bone structure, making him appear skinny and lean. Charles Viel, Max's father, climbed down and approached his son.

  “You're looking fit. Living in the country must agree with you.”

  “Thanks, Father. How is everyone at home?”

  “Your mother is her usual belligerent self. We'll talk about it later.”

  Max didn't ask, afraid of what his father meant by that statement After Paul ground tethered his horse, the boy turned and shook his hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

  “And you, boy.” He hugged his son, not caring that he felt stiff in his arms. “Let's go sit in the shade and you tell me why you ran away from your mother.”

  While the boy's mother's faults were many, she managed to keep him fed and cared for. Somewhere along the way, Paul had learned decent manners and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so Max was surprised to learn that Paul had run. This was the first time that Max knew of his being defiant or causing his mother any trouble.

  The three of them sat down under a large oak tree—grandfather, father, and son.

  “Go ahead, boy, and tell your father what you told me,” Charles Viel said.

  The boy glanced at his father and took a deep breath. “Mother has a new boyfriend who has money and doesn't want me around. She didn't believe me when I told her that he told me to get lost. He even offered to pay me to leave. But you know how she always is when she has a new gentleman friend. She thinks he's wonderful and doesn't want to hear anything bad.”

  “That will only last until either the money I send is all gone or her new boyfriend disappears,” Max said with a frown.

  He sighed. Paul was the result of Max having a schoolboy affair with an older woman. A woman he later learned had several children out of wedlock. When Desiree informed him she was with child, Max felt a responsibility for the child she carried, but he'd refused to marry her. He couldn't. Over the years, he'd always made sure that his son had food and clothes, which was more than some of the boy's brothers and sisters received.

  “Sir, you've always told me that if I wanted to come live with you, I could. I'm tired of my mother and her boyfriends. If I can't live with you, then I will run away somewhere no one will find me,” Paul said dramatically.

  Max loved this child and wanted to be involved in his life; he wanted to give Paul a good start, even if he'd been unable to provide him a stable home. But keeping him from Nicole would be difficult.

  And though the timing could have been better, Max couldn't turn his back on the boy now when he needed him.

  “Okay, son, you can stay with me, but for a while you're going to have to sleep in the barn. Things are not what they seem right now, and later I hope I can explain everything to you. Just trust me on this and stay away from the main house until I can get things straightened out.”

  “Yes, sir. I don't mind sleeping in the barn,” the boy said. “It'll be fun.”

  Max smiled and shook his head. “Only a kid would think that sleeping in a barn could be an adventure.” He looked at his father. “I'm afraid the same goes for you, Papa. I can't risk you going to the big house just yet”

  Charles shrugged. “I don't particularly want to be in that house. Jean Cuvier lived there and you know my feelings regarding that scalawag. Until your mother forces me, I don't want anything to do with that house.”

  “Papa, your new daughter-in-law was once married to Jean and loved him. You're going to have to accept Nicole.”

  “I don't have a problem accepting her. But that doesn't mean I have to like her dead husband,” he said defiantly.

  Max shook his head, knowing the subject of Jean always made his father angry, though Charles would never say why.

  “Come on then, let's go into town and have dinner.”

  “Your new wife, she won't mind you going with us?” his father asked.

  Though Max would miss dining with Nicole, he knew he couldn't risk his father and his son being found out, so tonight he would take them to town.

  “She'll be fine,” Max said, and glanced toward the big house, hoping that she wouldn't be on the verandah and see him with his father and Paul.

  “Come on, they have a restaurant in town that you'll both enjoy. I'll treat,” he said, wanting to get them out of sight before the sun cooled enough that Nicole would wander outside. Right now he didn't want to answer any questions regarding Paul to Nicole.

  ***

  Later that night after Paul had finally fallen asleep, Charles and Max sat outside the barn, far enough away from the big house that they wouldn't be detected, and gazed at the stars visible in the late night sky.

  “How's Mother? I'm surprised she didn't insist on coming with you,” Max said, glancing over at his father in the darkness.

  In the last few months his father's hair had turned completely gray and new lines had formed around his mouth and eyes. Charles had buried his only sister, Max's Aunt Blanche, four months ago, and since that time his father had aged considerably. His drinking had increased and Max feared for his health.

 

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