My Cherie Amour

My Cherie Amour by Shara Azod

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. My Cherie Amour by Shara Azod Red Rose Publishing Copyright© 2007 Shara Azod ISBN: 978-1-60435-044-9 ISBN: 1-60435-044-X Cover Artist: Sheba Productions Editor: Terri M All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you can not trade, sell or give any ebooks away. Red Rose Publishing www.redrosepublishing.com Forestport, NY 13338

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My Cherie Amour by Shara Azod

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CHAPTER ONE Claude Bonnet had been a simple sailor. He never had illusions of grandeur, never wanted more than his simple lot in life. He had been perfectly content with his meager salary as a deck hand on a regular cargo ship that traveled from Savannah to New Orleans on to various ports in the Caribbean. That was before he met Agathe Durand. Many in Baton Rouge society considered her to be quite on the shelf and homely to boot, but what Agathe lacked in looks, she more than made up for in cunning and determination. Bullying a local boy into marriage was not an option, they knew her to be the shrew she was, and steered clear of her. She would have to find a husband from somewhere other than Baton Rouge. It was a stroke of luck for her when on one of many family trips to New Orleans to visit less well to do relatives she ran smack into a friend of a distant cousin, Claude Bonnet. While many looking for a husband would insist on some sort of achievements, at the very least, money enough to support a family, Agathe did not have that option. She persuaded her father to buy them a small plantation along the Mississippi conveniently between New Orleans and Baton Rogue, including a fair amount of his own slave stock; she taught Claude not only how to run the plantation, but also how to use their location between the two major cities to turn a tidy profit in trade goods. 5

The tiny plantation of Bellemere grew prosperous over the years. Agathe spent a great deal of time in Baton Rouge with her head held high. She had married beneath her, but now she was richer than the merciless bitches that had sneered at her behind her back. She loved flaunting her wealth in front of those who, in her mind, had wronged her. Life was perfect, almost. The one thing Agathe had not been able to succeed in was giving her husband a son. In the beginning of their marriage, Claude had been attentive. He visited her room nightly, treating her with gentleness she would not have expected from simple sailor. But the months ran into years, and still she could not conceive. Claude‟s visits began to decrease, slowly, but definitively. After five years of marriage, he ceased to darken her bedroom doorway. He still treated her with the utmost respect, though Agathe secretly thought he should be a hell of a lot more grateful. After all, she made him what he was, a wealthy landowner, the crème of Creole society, hadn‟t she? All in all, she could not complain. He allowed her to go into town for weeks at a time, even buying fashionable townhouses in Baton Rouge and New Orleans. So what if she could not have a child? Perhaps it was for the best. Claude was not exactly descended from aristocracy as she and her family were. He had served his purpose; he was her husband, ensuring her place in society. She would never have tolerated being delegated to a poor, pitied spinster. He had more than he ever could have hoped. He should be thanking her on bended knee.

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Had Claude been aware of his wife‟s train of thought, he have would probably been amused. He knew Agathe believed she had convinced him to marry her using promises of wealth as persuasion, but in truth, it was Monsieur Gasper Durand, his good wife‟s father who had given him the incentive. For marrying the painfully plain spinster, he had received his true heart‟s desire, Amélie. As beautiful as Agathe was plain, Amélie was the product of Monsieur Durand and a woman who had been his slave before she became his mistress. Amélie was everything Agathe was not. Her caramel colored skin glowed with health and vitality, turquoise eyes twinkled with laughter, sultry lips begged for kisses. She was the reason Claude had given up life at sea; it had been thankless, true, but nothing Agathe had to offer could have made him give up the adventure. But for Amélie, he would. Claude spared very little thought for his wife while she was at Bellemere, and much less when she was away. Amélie was, for intents and purposes, the mistress of Bellemere. It was she who convinced Claude and his cousin, Luc, to have all of the slaves on an incentive program, where they could receive their freedom after five years. Agathe had never noticed the high rate of turnover. Most of the newly freed slaves went north, but some stayed and worked for a decent salary. Some families received large four bedroom cabins and worked as sharecroppers under the protection of Bellemere. It was this that made Bellemere so prosperous. The workers gave their all because they were not abused or misused, and hard work was always

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rewarded. Amélie had a natural gift with numbers, so she handled all of the plantations accounts and finances. Agathe believed she was the brain behind the remarkable wealth Bellemere had begun to accumulate, but in reality, it was Amélie, with a shrewd business sense learned at her father‟s knee. Monsieur Durand was a pragmatist; the world was a cruel enough place, but it was damn near impossible for his half-breed children. All six of the sons born of his mistress, Solange, were successful businessmen in France. Their only daughter chose Claude Bonnet, but she would not go without her own skills. Amélie was everything Claude could ever want, just as Monsieur Durand had planned. Claude and Agathe had been married for seven years before she found out about her husband‟s lover. What had started as a few weeks away here and there had gradually progressed to just about all of her time spent away from Bellemere. She was in Baton Rouge during the rainy season, New Orleans for the winter, and at her father‟s largest plantation in Natchez with the majority of the extended family (excluding Monsieur Durand, of course) for the entire summer. It just so happened on a jaunt from Baton Rouge to New Orleans, the steamboat was traveling a little too close to shore and ran aground. Agathe considered it providence that they just happened to be a few miles from Bellemere. She imperiously informed the hassled captain she would be spending the night at her plantation, and if by chance the

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steamboat was towed out of its current predicament, he was to wait for her return. She was after all, the only daughter of the richest man in all of New Orleans. After hiring a sad old, musty carriage that broke down at least five times on the way, Agathe finally made it to Bellemere after full dark. There were no houseboys to assist her luggage from the dilapidated carriage; there were no lanterns lighted outside, the front door was unlocked and unguarded. After imposing on the elderly Cajun who drove her home to drag her luggage into the foyer, Agathe made her way up the winding staircase to her husband‟s suite determined to get answers. There were no servants anywhere in the house, which was completely unacceptable. She was going to have to set the house to rights in the morning, but for now, Claude would have to bring her luggage upstairs and find Luc to have him bring a ladies‟ maid immediately. Agathe sailed through the sitting room that adjoined Claude‟s bedroom in high dungeon. This entire situation was too much to be borne. Why she had ever expected a peasant to care properly for all she had given him she would never know. She had just swung the bedroom door open prepared to wake her errant husband when the words died on her tongue. There on the huge four-poster bed was her husband kissing some slave woman with all the passion he had never once showed her, while Luc had his head buried between her shapely thighs. Claude was caressing her rather full breasts as the woman whimpered into his mouth.

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As much as she wished she could, Agathe could not turn away. She was both repulsed and fascinated by the scene unfolding before her. Her heart sped in her chest, her mouth felt dry, and an uncomfortable moist heat began to pool between her legs. The woman had begun to moan in earnest as Claude moved from her lips to trail kisses all over the woman‟s face, down her neck, to suckle the nipple on one breast while his hand moved to pinch the nipple of the other. Agathe watched in fascination at the way her husband‟s fingers alternately squeezed and rolled the chocolate protrusion while nipping and suckling the other as if it were some delectable treat. The woman was thrusting her hips into Luc‟s face in earnest while her head rolled back and forth on the pillow, waves of silky black hair spilling across the virginal white of the crisp cotton sheets. Her gasps and moans increased in pace and tempo until she screamed clutching Claude‟s head as she did so. Luc moved up the woman‟s body, kissing a trail from her thighs to her stomach as Claude lay on his back, pulling her to a sitting position on top of him. Were they done? But no, Claude lifted the woman up slightly as Luc reached between Claude‟s legs to clasp his impossibly hard manhood placing it at the woman‟s opening. Claude had never been so eager for her, Agathe thought peevishly while pressing her thighs together tightly. The achy heat was becoming unbearable. Never in her life had Agathe felt the feverish feelings now coursing through her body. She had to press a hand to the V where her legs met, trying to rub the throbbing ache away.

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Claude was moaning as the woman rocked gently back and forth on his lap. Luc was kneeling behind her rubbing her backside while whispering encouragement, while Claude was telling the woman how beautiful she was and how muchHe loved her?! How dare he?! One did not love a slave! Only the most ignorant of women did not know that gentlemen often relieved their baser needs in the slave cabins. The point was to keep it in the damned cabins! Perhaps this could not wait until morning. She should take care of this right this second! Squaring her shoulders, Agathe prepared to march forward when Luc parted the woman‟s backside and slipped his root inside her nether regions. Agathe could not withhold the gasp that escaped from her gaping mouth. The trio on the bed remained blissfully unaware of her presence. Their moans increased, as did the tempo of their glistening, writhing bodies. Passionate kisses passed indiscriminately between them, hands caressed, kneaded, pulled, and plucked. Their groans and sighs mingled in the most beautiful symphony she had ever heard. This was not some sweaty lustful coupling. She could not help but admit that to herself, though she would never utter such a thing aloud. The love between the three of them was palpable with every touch, every kiss. Never had anyone wanted her the way they wanted one another. No one had ever looked at her the way Luc and Claude looked at the woman between them. Agathe wished it was as evil and sordid as any decent woman would have thought seeing the three lovers; just hearing of such a thing was beyond the pale. 11

But she knew what she was witnessing was the one thing all of her money could never buy her and that was love. As she backed away slowly, unsure where she would go or what she would do, she caught a sound she had heard in many homes but never her own. It was coming from the adjoining room. The same damnable room she had vacated at Claude‟s suggestion that she take a larger suite on the other side of the house. At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable; she could not conceive so there was no reason for her to “do her duty” as there would be no fruits for her labor. But now she knew the real reason. He had installed his mistress, his Negro mistress, in her home! In a room no slave had the right to sleep! The noises emitting from the bed began to rise from soft, sensual moans and sighs to become frantic gasps, grunts, and whimpers. Agathe was transfixed as Luc and Claude slammed their hips into the curvaceous woman between them in perfect tandem with urgency, as if seeking something. Agathe‟s hand was drawn to her own woman‟s place of their own accord as she rubbed at the agitating ache that only seemed to grow worse as the passion between the three lovers intensified. Her own breath came in pants, in concert with the sounds emanating from the room. The rubbing through the clothes was not enough! Without a thought, she lifted her skirts to stuff her hands down her drawers. At any other time, had she encountered the sticky wetness at her core, she would have been horrified, but now the dampness was a blessing as she massaged herself in time with the men‟s stokes. Agathe could not remember ever feeling so very hot, so deliciously wicked. Her skin 12

felt taut, entirely too tight for her body. Leaning against the door she bit her bottom lip as she twisted her painfully rigid nipple the way she had witnessed Claude do to his lover. Her finger slipped into the place Claude had once placed his manhood as her thumb grazed the tiny nub on top causing her to moan softly. What were these feelings? Her heart beat furiously against her chest as she watched the increased tempo from the bedroom with half-closed lids. Why had Claude never managed to inspire anything other than pain and embarrassment in her while he obviously inspired this woman to participate in the most degrading of acts? Another finger slid to join the first inside her as Agathe thrust them in earnest, twisting a little to increase the friction. Her opposite hand squeezed one breast, then the other reveling in the tiny shockwaves it sent down her back. Oh, but it felt so good! Claude suddenly slammed upward with a harsh groan, grapping the woman‟s hips as the same time Luc rammed her backside, his buttocks squeezing tight against her. The woman howled, but it was anything but pain. Agathe felt a wave of the most intense pleasure she had ever felt crash over her body as she bore down mercilessly on her fingers. The added sensation of her thumb rubbing in circles over her little nubbin had her seeing stars. Sagging against the door Agathe‟s gaze slid back to the bed. The woman was now reclining on thick white pillows while her lovers caressed her fevered body. Oh, what Agathe would not give to have hands gently soothing her naked flesh!

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She had to get Claude back! Gathering herself Agathe quietly slipped from the room and down the hall toward her wing of the house with new purpose. Claude was her husband! She would see the little slut in his bed sold off immediately and that Luc would understand any carousing be done outside of the big house. She would obviously have to spend far more time here at Bellemere and, of course, Claude would be kept on a tighter leash. Perhaps she had yet to conceive due to lack of passion, but now that she had a general idea of how it was done, that would be rectified. Agathe refused to contemplate a single night she would be without at least some of what she witnessed tonight. It was her right after all. And if Claude needed to invite Luc in their marriage bed to be as.…vigorous as he had been tonight, well, she would just have to endure it. She refused to admit that the delightful tingle racing down her spine stemmed from sweet anticipation. Once again, she felt her skin grow tight and hot. Yes, just as soon as she composed herself she would straighten this little situation out. Of course there would be no water for her to freshen up, but that was neither here nor there. There was just enough light to straighten her graying hair back into a severe bun at the base of her neck. Smoothing her dress as best she could Agathe took deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. Now she understood what she was missing. Most women of her class would have never witnessed the erotic scene she had been privy to. Most would never be so bold as to demand such things from their men. But Agathe could and she most definitely would. She was not some weak14

kneed twit who did not know how to provide order to her own life. She would take every pleasure her husband had to give, even if that meant she had to welcome his cousin also. With her back upright erect with determination, Agathe marched with purpose down the hallway straight into her husband‟s room. “Claude! You will dismiss this….” Agathe stood frozen in horror. The woman she had written off as some nameless half-breed slave was anything but, standing in a vibrant green silk robe that she knew cost a fortune, cuddling a baby in her arms while Claude‟s limbs surrounded both mother and child. Luc was nowhere to be seen. Both heads turned toward her as soon as she stomped in the room. The one thing Agathe had always held as a physical vanity was her eyes. Pure blue/green in shade, her eyes were the only genetic gift from the heartbreakingly beautiful people of her father‟s side of the family. Staring back at her as if she were the intruder was a pair of eyes that mirrored her own One did not grow up in Creole society without knowing of the Plaçage system. Although proper women did not discuss it, nor did they even acknowledge its existence, it was a simple fact of life. This woman was the very image of her father, though whereas he was masculinity personified; this woman was all that was feminine. Where Agathe was sturdy, solid yet hopelessly flat, the woman before her was softly rounded in all the places a woman should be. Agathe had not noticed how petite the woman was until now, standing in the sheltering arms of her six foot 15

plus husband as if she belonged there. Her dark honeyed skin was flushed, but from embarrassment or her very recent exercises, Agathe could not say. The woman‟s eyes, every bit as clear and pure as her own were framed with impossibly thick, long black lashes, matching the wild masses of soft curls that fell from her head to her hips. She was a dark golden/bronze version of the portrait that hung over the main sitting room mantle at the family mansion in Natchez; her very own grandmother. “I will have her out of my house,” Agathe growled at the disgusting specimen that was her husband. The fire that now rushed through her body had nothing to do with desire or need this time. How could he? How could he bring that daughter of a whore into her house?! “Ma amore, give me a moment,” Claude murmured to his lover, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, then leaning down to kiss the baby in her arms. Agathe fumed. The man actually had the audacity to caress the creature‟s cheek as he placed a soft lingering kiss on her pouty lips. Even as she turned to disappear through the connecting bedroom door, his hands loitered as if loath to let her go. Her vision went red as she witnessed the look of tenderness as he watched his whore. With a snarl, Agathe raised her hand to slap the look off his face, only to have it seized in an iron grip before connecting. “What are you doing here, Agathe?” All the blind rage boiling just under her skin a mere second before was quickly turning to ice as Claude turned frosty blue eyes towards her. All traces of affection 16

and love wiped away as if they had never been. A muscle jerked in his square jaw filling Agathe with the ridiculous urge to caress its hard strength. Taking a deep breath she girded her loins for the fight she saw coming. Strange, Claude had never so much as argued with her before. “This is my home!” Agathe hissed through her teeth trying in vain to yank her wrist out of his grasp. “After all I have done for you! After all I have given you, you dare bring some half-breed here?!” Claude dropped the offending woman‟s wrist as if it burned. He should have foreseen the possibility of something like this happening, but Agathe never came to Bellemere anymore. He had foolishly believed they would quietly lead their own lives as long as he kept Bellemere and the investments thriving. He seriously doubted she had any idea how wealthy he had made her. Monsieur Durand had been grooming him far longer than she realized. He had wanted to marry Amélie; he would have taken her to France where they could live as husband and wife freely, but the old man had convinced him otherwise. He could live in relative peace and prosperity here, being able to give Amélie an easy life. It had worked beautifully thus far. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Claude willed himself to calm down. It wasn‟t Agathe‟s fault she had stumbled across the very intimate scene between Luc, Amélie, and himself. Although Luc had not been part of the equation originally, the three had grown extremely close over the years in blessed isolation. That closeness had 17

simply grown to something else. Agathe would never understand it; he really didn‟t expect her to. He should have taken more precautions. He could have had someone on some kind of night shift. But because the only visitor Bellemere ever had was Monsieur Durand, there had been no point. Half the workers at the plantation were freed slaves at this point, who worked for an honest wage. They simply didn‟t run things here the way other plantations did. The household staff all had cottages close to the house that Agathe probably hadn‟t noticed yet. She would probably pop a blood vessel when she found out. But the simple truth was Bellemere did not belong to Agathe. She had a substantial amount of wealth, yet she owned no property. Almost all of the assets he had acquired over the years were either in his name, one of his children‟s (from Amélie) or Amélie‟s. Agathe would never want for anything, but other than the town homes in Baton Rouge and New Orleans, nothing was hers. With a sigh, he considered the now pacing, fuming woman in front of him. She had been caught in the crossfire, he must remember that. “And it is a decent home, or was until you brought your whore here! I cannot imagine what you could have been thinking!” Agathe raged. “If you must lay with dogs, install her and her whelp in a discreet house in New Orleans or Baton Rouge like everyone else! This will…” A sharp slap across the cheek stopped her tirade cold. Clasping her hand to her flaming cheek, Agathe could do no more than gape wide-eyed at the man she had always considered acquiescent, weak. 18

“You will never speak of Amélie, or my children in such a manner!” Claude thundered. Children? Agathe felt her knees give way as she sank to the ground. Of course, he went to find the one thing she could not give him. Pain sliced through Agathe making it difficult to breathe. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to take it all in, rationalizing in her somewhat warped brain. He had gone to her father‟s bastard. Surely that meant something? Surely this entire episode was some kind quest for progeny. “I understand your anger, Agathe, but this house happens to be Amélie‟s home and I will not have you maligning her in her own home. You have your life, let me live mine!” Agathe heard none of it. Her mind raced with possibilities. This was not a man to be placed on the shelf hidden away on the plantation. They would be the rage of society. He would have to accompany her to New Orleans of course, leaving the management of the place to Luc. They would have to take an “extended trip” someplace far, France perhaps, in order to come here collect the child, then come back in a year or so, claiming the child legitimately. She would even consider allowing the woman to come back in a year or to for the express purpose of bearing them another child. Yes, yes, it could work. “I will claim the child,” Agathe announced regally. “I will arrange it with Papa to send us off somewhere for a year or so, we will come back blessed with a child.” 19

Agathe rose excitedly clapping her hands together. Claude took a cautious step back, alarmed by the unnatural light in her eyes. She began practically skipping around the room in her excitement. “It will be perfect! Perfect!” She turned to Claude, ignoring the way he flinched away from her touch. “Oh, I forgive you. You wanted a child, and naturally, you would want your child to be a part of me in any way you could. Poor, poor Claude. I have not been a good wife to at all, have I? Well, that will all change now, I daresay! I have left you out here all alone to rot. How neglectful of me. You must pack! You will, of course, accompany me to New Orleans. We will leave from there. Luc can arrange for the child and its nurse to bring her to town in a couple of days, after we have made our appearances…” “Agathe!” Agathe looked up from her fantasy dream to her beautiful husband, who had captured both of her hands and was holding them close to his chest. “Yes, Claude?” She smiled up at him with such hope, such insanity. Strange how she almost looked beautiful in her psychotic break. He bitterly regretted what he was about to tell her. Would it push her over the edge? “I will not be going with you to New Orleans,” he told her gently. “And you will not be coming back here.” He simply didn‟t understand, she thought. 20

“Claude, I told you...” “No Agathe,” Claude said firmly, “it is you who does not understand. I love Amélie, she is my life. Bellemere is not your home, it never was. Your father gave Bellemere to me, actually, to Amélie and me. I am sorry we did not explain the full details of this…marriage of ours sooner, but we thought to spare you.” Agathe felt icy fingers of dread dance down her spine. What did he mean his and that woman‟s? Explain the details of their marriage? What was he saying? “I don‟t understand,” she whispered, terrified that he would explain further. She did not want to here this; she would not accept this. “Whatever are you talking about? You belong to me…” “I belong to Amélie. She is the reason I agreed to marry you. I had beennegotiating-with your father for her for some time before you…before it was decided this situation would be for the best.” “Surely you can‟t mean that!” She stepped back, shaking her head. No! No! No! He‟d, been bought and paid for to be her husband! She was her father‟s heir, his legitimate child not some by-blow from a slave! “It is the child,” she babbled desperately. “I told you we would deal with that. It appears almost white, surely no one would ever know. I will arrange everything. I told you that!” “Children, Agathe! Amélie and I have children. And the baby is a girl, her name is Cherie.”

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“Children?” A loud ringing sounded in Agathe‟s ears, her head was throbbing. This is not happening! She was entitled to this man. He was hers! She was a member of the elite of Creole society! How could prefer some half-breed whore to her, no matter how fertile she was? And her father was involved with this gross injustice? Sinking into a chair Agathe stared blindly into space. What was she supposed to do? She must have said it aloud because Claude answered her thought. “You go one with your life as usual. What are you doing here now anyway?” In daze, she explained about the disabled steamboat and her trip to New Orleans. In her head, she searched for solutions to this horrible mess the betraying men in her life had made. She could not go to her father. Any mention of his other life with his placée would only get her slapped. No decent woman was supposed to know about that. Maybe she could kidnap the whore and sell her to a whorehouse in Storyville. Unfortunately, her father was the richest man in the region, which meant he had immense power. No one would dare lift a finger against him for fear of horrible retribution. All she had left was her pride. With her shattered heart piercing her chest with every move, she rose gracefully to her feet and headed for the door. She had to have time to think.

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“Send someone to my room to see to my comfort,” she threw imperially over her shoulder. “I simply cannot deal with this right now. I will let you know what I decide later.” Claude shook his head at the defeated woman. He really had not meant to hurt her. Hell, he wasn‟t aware she had a heart to hurt. Agathe had always been a proud, cold woman. In the beginning when he had tried to have at least a peaceful, amicable marriage, if nothing else, she had responded with orders, demands, and complaints. He had breathed a sigh of relief whenever her “trips” away from the plantation had become more and more frequent until they finally became permanent. Still, this could not be easy for her. However, when all was said and done, he would not have her here upsetting Amélie. Of all the players involved in this base little play, she was the most innocent. Her and the children. “Agathe, I am sorry.” She turned around and stared down her nose at the handsome little nobody she had lifted far above his station in life only to be slapped down like some wayward dog. “As well you should be,” she sneered, unable to keep the spite out of her voice. “You don‟t understand,” Claude replied every inch the Creole gentleman she had believed herself to have created. “I am sorry, you will have to be gone tomorrow, disabled steamboat or no. You can wait onboard with the other passengers.”

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“People know I have a plantation here!” she fumed in reply. “Why, I would not be surprised to find a few visitors here if they cannot fix the blasted boat by tomorrow! You will have to just keep you‟re…” Agathe‟s words died on her lips at Claude‟s furious visage. He was magnificent in his anger, she must admit. Bitter bile rose in her throat. He was magnificent and bewitched by a whore; none of his manliness had ever been for her. “I expect you to observe the dictates of society,” she amended quickly. “You will return at first light,” he informed her. Hell no, there would be no busybody society matrons interfering with his family. “I don‟t give a damn what you tell people, but they are not welcome here.” Agathe turned once more in an attempt at a regal exit, but Claude was having none of it. “And Agathe,” Claude added softly stopping her in her tracks. The voice was deliciously dangerous in its mildness. “This plantation belongs to me and my family. You really should read some of the documents your father is forever having you sign.” With that Claude turned on his heal and marched through the door his whore had went through earlier. Agathe supposed he had gone to offer that woman comfort while she would be left all alone to lick her own wounds. Oh, that bitch would pay! If it took until her dying breath, Agathe would bring both them to their knees. 24

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CHAPTER TWO

Agathe sprawled in a most unladylike position in the pink parlor of her family mansion in New Orleans drinking her dear old Papa‟s finest brandy. Tipping her head back, she let the liquid burn a blazing path down her throat as she considered her position. A month, her mother had been dead for a full month before her father moved his bitch into her mother‟s home. Agathe‟s own town home was currently being remodeled after a vicious flood that rendered it simply unlivable, so for the foreseeable future, she was stuck in this humiliating position. How that dratted man expected her to show her face in polite society she would never know. Forcing her to live under the same roof as his placée was inexcusable; many a vicious tongue was already wagging at the scandalous behavior, behind hands, of course. Fortunately, no one dare say a word openly. Gasper Durand was now was the Comte de Toulon. No one dared speak ill of anything he did, not that anyone dared when he was simply the richest man in the colony. However, society‟s blind eye did not extend to his only legitimate offspring. She had just come from a women‟s luncheon where a kindly (ha!) matron reminded her of her precarious situation. Agathe seethed as she remembered the gleeful look on the old bat‟s face. “You must be careful of your reputation ma cheré. What your papa is doing, il est scandalous! We must look out for you. It would not do at all to have your pristine name 26

ruined. If he will not move cette femme out of your maman‟s home, well…you simply cannot stay there. There is always your plantation, non?” What the vicious little harpy left unsaid was clear. No decent woman could live at a hotel for an indeterminate amount of time, so her only choices were Bellemere or to graciously except room and board from a “friend.” There was no way in hell she would ever go to Bellemere. She hadn‟t set foot in the damn place in eighteen years! Not that she was ever invited. Word had gotten out, as she knew it would, about Claude and his putain and there veritable brood of children. Six bastards at last count, five boys and one girl. The happy little couple had even begun traveling to New Orleans now that little bastard girl was 18. Rumors little Cherie was a great beauty. Agathe wanted to spit out the healthy swig of brandy she just gulped as the thought of the only of her husband‟s children she had ever laid eyes on. Claude, who had established himself as a leader in the community, and her very own father le Comte had managed to betroth the little chienne to none other than Étienne Barbin, the only son and heir of Vicomte de Alsace Rémi Barbin, the most prominent of all Creole society. Étienne was an only child and the Vicomte was a widower, so Agathe had rarely ran across either in her busy social schedule, but what had seen made her green with envy. The bastard child had been gifted with an outrageous dowry and Gaspar had moved heaven and earth to ensure she could move freely in decent white society. Of course, the little bastard‟s mother or grand-mère

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could not accompany her so Claude and Gaspar could be seen escorting the little baggage to various debutante events. It was far too much to bear. Now all the world knew her shame; her husband had been living with his placée for years, ignoring the fact he even had a lawful wife. She was forced to ignore whispers and snickers everywhere she went. Pushing herself to her feet, Agathe went over the plans she had worked so long on. She would be moving into Madame DuPont‟s mansion tomorrow so she had to act quickly. After witnessing her husband “au milieu de la fabrication d'amours”, she felt no need to deny herself the pleasures of the flesh. As a woman of good standing, she only had two options, buy a slave to for pleasure or sneak off to the less desirable neighborhoods to find satisfaction. Agathe had done both. During her many trips to an exclusive brothel in Storyville, she had met and befriended an up and coming quadroon Madame who had been planning for many years to move to a more lucrative area; Spanish held Florida. It had taken time and a substantial amount of money to convince the woman to take an extra working girl whose virginity she could auction off in the grand opening of the brothel Agathe had helped finance. It was worth every penny if she could strike a blow to Gaspar and Claude for her abject humiliation. When Claude and his placée had started coming to New Orleans, Agathe had gone to her father to encourage him to stop. After all, New Orleans and Barton Rouge were her refuges. If anyone were to find out, she would be a laughing stock, someone pitied, not envied, and she simply could not abide by that. Gaspar had 28

not only brushed aside her concerns, he had taken Claude‟s side! He had gone on and on about the needs of his young granddaughter, how she would have to learn to take her place in society. Agathe could not believe her ears! To move a breed into polite society and pass her off as one of her betters was simply unpardonable! But they had done it, and Agathe‟s social stock had dropped steadily ever since. She would not stay in La Louisiane very long after the dirty deed was done. She could do nothing to stop Gasper or Claude from legally adopting their bastard sons, she could not stop her father from marrying his long time mistress, though it was technically against the law. She could not save the family name she once loved so very much. She could hurt those who had ruined her life, and that is exactly what she planned to do. ******* Christine L‟Amour stood in the alley behind the lit mansion glancing anxiously around her. If she had not seen the girl with her own eyes, there was no way in hell she would even contemplate what she was about to do. “The captain has assured me we will be underway as soon as we bring our „package‟ onboard,” Didier, her best friend and lover assured her for what had to be the hundredth time. “It will be well cherié, calm down.” “I know Didi,” Christine replied automatically with confidence she did not feel. “I just wish she would hurry up.”

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Agathe was supposed to have been here with the girl in tow twenty minutes ago. The plan was to slip a tiny amount of laudanum in her refreshment and then in guise of assisting her, to spirit her out to the waiting carriage. It was fast and simple, so where the hell was Agathe? As soon as the thought entered Christine‟s head, Agathe appeared half dragging a heavily cloaked bundle. Didier hurried to lift the drugged girl effortlessly in his arms to place her in the carriage. Christine scurried up after them with a quick glance to the other woman. “I believe this concludes our dealings?” Christine asked. Agathe‟s smile sent shivers down Christine‟s spine. Not for the first time she wondered who this young woman was Agathe wanted gone so very badly? “Oh, yes,” came the gleeful reply. “Just make sure you are away from Louisiane tonight.” “Madame Bonnet, I must ask, who is this girl?” Christine asked. If this was indeed a member of some powerful Creole family, her life was forfeit. What the hell had she gotten herself into? “A half-breed born of a whore who thought she could move into my world.” With that, Agathe was gone. ******** Cherie slowly became aware of the gentle sway beneath her. Refusing to open her eyes, she tried to recall what had happened to her. She felt as if she were home in 30

her bed, yet the constant rocking did not stop. Groaning, she gingerly opened one eye, trying to focus. With a gasp, she bolted upright in the bed. Pain pounded against her skull at the sudden movement; her stomach threatened to heave. Where the hell was she? Looking around the bare tiny room, all she could see was a chest at the end of what appeared to be a bunk. There was no window and only one thick oak door. The constant roll of the room answered her question, she was on a ship. The last thing she remembered was taking a sip of the warm punch as she listened to the inane prattle of some foolish little debutante trying to impress her with her family‟s genealogy. Agathe, Papa‟s legal wife, had been there. Although Maman, Papa, and Père Gaspar had all warned her to stay clear of the woman, Cherie had thought she was kind to bring her the punch, and kinder still to offer to guide her to find a quiet place to sit when she began to feel ill. What a simple fool she had been. Apparently, the woman had managed to kidnap her somehow. The question was, who had helped her and why? There were not many willing to cross her father or grandfather. Surely as soon as her kidnappers found out who she was, they would immediately take her back. That, or they would kill her. Ruthlessly pushing away the panic and tears that threatened to rise, Cherie considered her options. Was Agathe somewhere on this ship, or had she returned to the party to appear innocent? From what Cher had heard of Papa‟s wife, she was ever cautious of appearances, so surely she would have stayed and claimed all innocence as to Cherie‟s whereabouts. There was a chance she could negotiate with whoever was 31

holding her, but she had to be sure they would not simply cast her overboard in fear of discovery. She was still trying to work on some kind of plan when the door opened to admit a beautiful Amazon woman with skin of café-au-lait in a prim grey gown that covered her from her throat to her feet. Her hair appeared to a mixture of black and grey, combed back in a severe bun, which was completely at odds with her youthful appearance. Her face was unlined, her carriage upright, the woman didn‟t look a day over thirty-five at most. She was carrying a tray with food and hot chocolate that she placed on Cher‟s lap. Behind her stood the biggest man Cherie had ever seen. He had to be pushing seven feet, with bulging muscles that strained his shirt, deep ebony skin, and shiny bald head. “You must eat something, cher,” the woman said cheerfully. “And then we will talk.” “You know who I am,” Cher muttered deflated. If the woman and the man behind her knew who she was, they would not be easy to persuade to take her back. “What?” Christine asked bewildered. “You said my name. Well, nickname,” Cher replied, “so you know who I am.” Christine looked down at the girl in confusion. “Petite, I said no name.” A tiny sliver of hope blossomed in Cher‟s chest. Had she heard her wrong? “Did you not call me Cher?” she asked hopefully.

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“I said it as an endearment, petite,” Christine smiled down at her. “I did not know your name was Cher. I am Christine and that,” she pointed towards the huge man standing at the door, “is Didier. If you do not mind, we can get acquainted while you eat, non?” Christine‟s smile was gentle and sincere as she sat on the bed and began to pour two cups of chocolate and uncovering a dish full of delicate pastries. Cher waited until the older woman had settled next to her before she dropped her bombshell. “So you do not know that I am Cherie Bonnet, known as Cher to my family. My father is Claude Bonnet; my grand-pere is Gaspar Durand. The woman I suspect who paid you to take me away was Agathe Bonnet, papa‟s wife, n‟est pas?” Cher asked softly while nibbling daintily on a pastry. A soft “Shit!” came from the vicinity of the door. Christine‟s hand stilled in the act of bringing a pastry to her mouth. Cher dared a glance through her lashes to witness the woman‟s face turn ghostly pale. “Oh God, what have I done?” Christine whispered placing the pastry down on the plate with a shaky hand. Damn the traitorous bitch! She should have known never to trust Agathe Bonnet. The woman had found her dearest wish and dangled it before her like some succulent fruit. Just like Eve, Christine had bitten. It had been a moment of weakness that she shared her dream of opening a house in the goldmine that was the Spanish Florida territory with the wicked witch. Christine had felt secure because she knew Agathe‟s 33

dirty little secrets, how she often needed multiple partners to fulfill her sexual needs. The woman had gone through seven of her most well hung slaves in one night! Christine had foolishly felt secure that Agathe would never want whispers of her late night escapades to get out. She was a pillar of society, after all. It looks like Agathe had gotten rid of the only person other than her own personal slaves who knew her secret. “What do we do?” Christine whispered to Didier. It was senseless not to include the girl in the conversation. If Gaspar or Claude found them, Christine and Didier were as good as dead anyway. “We cannot take her back, love,” came the deep reply. “But why?” Cher demanded. “I will explain everything to Papa. If you really didn‟t know…” “We would be killed outright, no matter our ignorance,” Didier replied without heat. It was mere an acknowledgment of the enviable. “It is what I would do if it were my daughter.” “Cher,” Christine grasped the young woman‟s hand looking directly in her eyes. Cher could see her regret, but she could also see her resolve. “I am sorry Agathe did this to you. I am more sorry than you know that I was her instrument. But we cannot take you back, and we cannot let you go.” “I would never tell,” Cher insisted, unable to hold the tears that began to roll down her face back any longer. “I swear, you are both being kind to me. When we get

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to wherever your destination is, you can put in on a ship back to New Orleans. I will tell them it was someone else, anyone else. Please, I am to be married! I must go home!” Christine‟s heart broke for the girl. Many free people of color dreamed of marrying into elite Creole society. This girl had achieved simply by her birth what many would kill for. Christine had eschewed the entire Plaçage system in which she had grown up in for the love of Didier. Her mother was furious when Christine had informed her she would not attend the balls to find a wealthy protector. Instead, she and Didier had slowly built a nice little house in Storyville, building a certain status for having the most beautiful colored girls of every shade, the most skilled workers with class and style. But in New Orleans, they were merely a drop in the bucket. Christine loved what she did. It was not so different from her mother‟s life, just more honest. Placées considered themselves respectable women, but to Christine, a whore was a whore. “I am sorry petite,” Christine whispered taking the now openly weeping girl in her arms. “We will take care of you I promise, but we cannot let you go. You will not become…one of the girls. You will be as my own beloved daughter. But petite, you must know Agathe will be the first suspected and regardless of what she may believe, and your father and grandfather will have no mercy. She will tell them everything. You can never go home.”

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CHAPTER THREE

New Orleans Agathe had never in her life felt a fear as she felt it at this moment. The only sound in the study was the soft weeping in the corner of her husband‟s whore while her father‟s whore comforted her as best she could. Agathe stood not only before Claude and Gaspar, but three of what appeared to be her father‟s bastard sons, as well as Étienne and Rémi Barbin. Try as she might to call up the righteous anger that she believed justified her actions, all she felt was deep, terrible trepidation. “Where is she?” Gaspar‟s voice was deceptively soft. Agathe missed the warning in his eyes.

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“As I said, I witnessed her going to the retiring room after she said she felt a bit ill. It is not my fault no one taught the silly chit…” She did not see the coming blow that knocked her to her knees. The entire side of her face instantly caught fire as she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Gaspar seized a handful of her hair, dragging her upright once more. Tightening his hold so she felt as if he would rip the hair out by the roots, he leaned close into her face and spoke with the same deceptive voice. “I will ask you again, where is she?” This time Agathe saw the cold determination she a missed just a second before. His eyes were devoid of any emotion. Any natural affection he might have felt for her was gone she realized with a start. She had often bristled at the pity and frustration she always saw when he looked at her, but there had always been at least some affection and maybe even love. Icy fear filled her heart. Had she lost the love of her father over a half-breed? As much as she might have wished anger over the injustice to augment her courage, all she could feel was an aching sense of loss. Not so much a loss over what was, but more a bereavement of what might have been. “I paid a Madame to sell her to the highest bidder somewhere far from here.” The next smack caused her to lose consciousness. Agathe awakened on the floor exactly in the spot she had fallen. Opening her eyes to narrow slits she could make out Claude on his knees facing his whore, trying to console her as she cried freely now, mourning the loss of her daughter. 37

“We will find her,” Claude was assuring her. “We will bring her back.” “She‟s awake now,” a disgusted voice came from somewhere above her. Agathe whimpered trying to scoot her body back by her father‟s desk, but his voice stopped her in her tracks. “Stand, Agathe.” She hauled herself into a standing position cautiously. Her face was still a blistering inferno, but now her entire body ached. Well, there was nothing for it. She was well and truly caught. All thoughts of escaping were long gone. They would never allow her to escape to relative obscurity in some small village in France. The best she could hope for was being held a virtual prisoner in one her father‟s homes. At least they couldn‟t kill her outright, she hoped. “To whom did you sell my granddaughter and where is she now.” Agathe considered her options. She could tell them the truth and have the little bitch returned here. She probably could not marry Étienne now, which Agathe could take some amount of cold comfort. She had saved at least one family from the stain of having a breed thrown into the bloodline. Or she could lie and have them chase circles for a while. Eventually, they would figure out she was lying, but by then the girl might be damaged irreparably. “I paid Madame L‟Amour and her lover Didier Valent to take her. I believe they are planning on opening a new house somewhere in the Montréal area,” she replied offering a half-truth. 38

“I will bring her back,” Étienne announced striding to the door. “Surely you cannot think of marrying her now?” Agathe asked incredulously. “I am afraid by the time you find her she will be well and truly ruined.” Étienne turned on his heel to face the pathetic excuse for a woman standing oddly proud, though her world was crashing around her. The entire right side of her face was beginning to turn alarming shades of blue, green, and purple, yet her eyes were bright with righteous indignation. He wished he could feel sorry for her, but all he felt was disgust with a healthy dose of hate. “I would not give a damn if she was forced to service an entire regiment,” he replied in an even matter-of-fact declaration. “I will find her; she will be my wife.” Agathe once again did not heed to the implicate warning of the deceptive calm of the men in the room. She turned furiously to Rémi Barbin, fully expecting him to side with her against his son. “You must reason with you son! Tell him what that would do to you family, to his reputation!” To his credit, Rémi ignored Agathe. “You must let him go, Claude,” Rémi turned completely from Agathe to address his friend. “He loves her very much, he will bring her home.” “I don‟t know.” Claude was her father. It was his responsibility to find his child, but he knew if it were Amélie…nothing could keep him from her. Looking at Étienne, he was not too 39

much the father to recognize the feeling burning in the young man. He would protect Cherie with his life. “Go „Tienne. You have my blessings,” he said squeezing Amélie‟s hand. “Please,” Amélie added through her tears, “she is my joy. Please bring her home.” Gaspar listened with a half ear to the conversation going on around him while contemplating Agathe. What she had done was unforgivable. He could understand her hatred and prejudice. Agathe‟s mother had been a cold woman. He married Vivienne Quevedo-Bonnet as a favor to her dying father, who had been his friend and mentor. After she had given birth to Agathe, he had been barred from her bed. He could have set her aside for that alone, but there was little point. Vivienne enjoyed her position as his wife without having any of the responsibilities that entailed. She had never wanted anything to do with being a wife or mother, and had barely spoken to her own daughter until Agathe had married and became an acceptable companion, who would not burden her with emotional needs. She was also a fanatical racist; not just against African slaves or people of color, but against anyone who was not Creole. She often referred to Cajuns as swamp scum and Indians as soulless savages. Agathe had regrettably been poisoned by her mother. To his shame, Gaspar had made a conscience effort to be as far away from the unpleasantness that was his wife as possible. After all, he had Solange. He had inherited her when he married Vivienne. She had been the cook; a pure bred born in Africa, brought to the colonies as a child. Through the years, they had been blessed with a deep abiding love built on mutual 40

respect and friendship, though the passion had never waned. Gaspar had worked hard to build enough power and money, all for her. It was to be able to have enough influence society would simply look the other way when he made Solange his wife and legitimized his children. Things had been moving fast, perhaps too fast for Agathe. What could he do with her? He had tried to like Agathe, but she had never been interested in anyone other than herself. When she had first seen Claude she had begged, pleaded, threatened, and screamed for him to “persuade” Claude to marry her. At the time, Claude had been courting Amélie. Though nothing more than a simple sailor, Claude had saved every dime and invested wisely, trying to convince Gaspar he would provide for Amélie. He had been on the verge of granting his permission for Claude to take his youngest child to France or the Caribbean to marry, (much to the heartbreak of his beloved Solange), when Agathe decided he must be hers. It had seemed a perfect solution. Amélie could stay, Claude could have the love of his heart, and Agathe would have a husband. Agathe was so much like her mother that Gaspar believed she would never think twice about her husband as long as she was kept in the manner in which she felt she was entitled. And she hadn‟t. Not until the night she had walked in on her husband and her half-sister. Something had awakened in Agathe that night. Perhaps the passion she had observed had awoken a dormant part of her, or perhaps simply a case of wanting something you had already thrown away just because someone else desired it. Who knew? But she became obsessed with the idea that Claude was hers. 41

Gaspar knew of her late night exploits. He knew how she needed a group of men at the same time to satisfy her. He couldn‟t say he understood, though he certainly didn‟t judge. He had hoped she would settle down after a while. He had even breathed a sigh of relief when she had purchased several house slaves for the sole purpose of keeping her satisfied. All had seemed to calm down until the introduction of Cherie into society. Gaspar expected anger, threats, and tantrums. Never in a million years did he believe Agathe capable of something like this. He realized now he should have. “The basement has been…redesigned. It will be your home until Cher is found and brought home,” Gaspar told her quietly while everyone else was occupied with seeing Étienne off. “And then?” Agathe whispered wide-eyed. Would they lock her up like an animal then? Gaspar considered her quietly for a few moments. The love he should have felt as a father was not there, perhaps it never really had been. He had always seen this woman as an extension of Vivienne and not as his child. Perhaps in a way, this was entirely his fault. If he could have loved her at least half as much as he loved Amélie, she would have been different. God knows if Cherie was not found or damaged in some way, he would carry the guilt with him forever. But Agathe was now a lost cause. He could see the slightly crazed look in her eyes. She really believed what she had done was justified, that it was all for the best. “After Cher is brought home, you will retire to St. Dympna‟s Asylum.” 42

Agathe was struck dumb. He was sending her to an insane asylum? Of all the possible punishments, never had she imagined anything like this. Gaspar nodded toward his sons, who seized her arms and dragged her away, and for once Agathe made no move to protest. She had badly misjudged her father and overplayed her hand. There would be no forgiveness; she was as good as dead.

San Agustín, Florida Six months later

Cherie tried not to move as she crouched down in the closet where she was hiding. What had seemed like a temps d'amusement, a joke an hour ago, now looked to be a long boring night. She had crept upstairs where Christine‟s “girls” brought their gentlemen to see exactly what this sex thing was all about. Christine and Didier did 43

not allow her to mix with “the girls” much, and there were very few young women her age in the small Spanish outpost. San Agustín was now the capitol and Governor Velasco had tried every thing he could to get more soldiers and business to bring families here. European women did not want to come to such a wild, untamed place. The men for the most part enjoyed the freedom to drink, whore, and even start relationships with slaves, Indians, and all other kinds of women of color. There was a certain laissez-faire attitude that most seemed to revel in. Knowing all this, Christine and Didier kept a close watch on her at all times. Cher failed to see the point. They had told her she could never go home yet they would not allow her to become one of their “girls.” What was she supposed to do with the rest of her life? Christine had been right about making her fortune here in Florida. In no time at all, they were ensconced in a massive mansion with a steady clientele of officers, businessmen, and government officials. Cher was kept away from the front of the house; it would be impossible to refuse some of the more powerful clients should they decide they wanted her. She helped keep the books, manage the behind the scenes workers, and even on rare occasions allowed to accompany Christine and her personal maid on shopping excursions, but she was not allowed to deal with anything remotely sexual. Cher‟s experience with the opposite sex was extremely limited. She had shared a few chaste kisses with her former fiancé Étienne, some even leaving her breathless and desperate for more. Étienne was too much the gentleman, saying he wanted to wait 44

until she was his wife. At night, she would lay in bed aching in ways she didn‟t understand. Lately, she had dreamed of her lost love, touching herself between her legs to try to ease the desperate want. Yet the more she touched, the more she wanted something…but what? She supposed she could have talked to Christine about it but it seemed so private. So here she was, determined to find out what l‟amore was all about. Simone, one of the most popular girls of the house, currently occupied the room. Cher had often been in awe of her patrons, and her companion tonight was none of than Capitán Diego Esteban de Aguilar, Duque de Suárez. Not only was the man the richest in the colony, it was rumored he had more money than the King Ferdinand. He had to be most handsome man Cher had ever seen in her life. He was six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders, a lean muscular physique, jet-black hair, and icy gray eyes. Rumors were he chose to stay in the New World because he could not stand the sight of his wife, Princesa Maria-Teresa. Many a messenger from his father-in-law, the king, had come to Florida with urgent summons for him to come home. To date none had ever returned to Spain to give the king a reply. Even Governor Velasco tread lightly around him. The man exuded power and control. Cher would love to see the man in action, if only he and his lady for the evening would stop playing chess and get on with it! Diego was bored. No, bored was too tame a word. He suffered from an acute case of ennui. All he wanted to do was brood with a bottle of rum in the sanctity of his study, yet he found himself led by a couple of friends to Palacio Del Placer, the best 45

whorehouse in all of the Spanish territories. Once here however, not even the most accomplished woman could pique his interest. He hadn‟t had a hard on for months. Rather than to admit this to his comrades, he selected the best the house had to offer, took her upstairs, and proceeded to play chess. He figured he would do it for a couple of hours or so, pay the girl handsomely to stay out of sight, then sneak out. Diego was aware he was being watched the moment he stepped into the room. He didn‟t sense malicious intent, but a man in his position could never be too sure. There was only one place to hide in the room, the closet. He maneuvered his companion to the chair closest to the door so he could watch the closet door, waiting for some move from whoever was watching. He had many enemies, though not many were brave enough to attack him outright. There was a chance his beloved father-in-law had finally caught a clue and sent a spy rather than a messenger. The king wanted him to return to Spain to get his “beloved” wife with child. What the king failed to understand was the lovely Princesa Maria-Teresa was far more suited for a nunnery than she was to be a wife. For all her sweetness, the woman was a colder than ice and as dry as the Sahara. It took coating his cock with massive amounts of cream to even attempt to fuck her. No amount of foreplay or coaxing could make her the tiniest bit wet. The damn woman said her rosary the entire time! Being the only surviving child, he was sorely in need of an heir, but man could only take so much! One month of wedded bliss was about all he could handle. Some distant cousin would probably inherit the title. He could not stomach the feeling he was raping his own wife. 46

Thank God Spain needed experienced officers to protect their colonies against the encroaching British and keep an eye on the French. Though land was abundant, it was damned hard to entice families to settle in the new territories. Most of the men who traveled here came in search of gold or other riches, intent on making their fortunes then returning to Spain. Most never saw their homeland again. Diego had no need for more riches, his lands were abundant, and he held one of the highest titles of Spanish aristocracy. He came to the New World for the challenge and adventure. It had worked for a while. Now everything was stale and predictable, much as it had been in Spain. He felt as if he were missing something essential in his life. An hour and half had past and still only the slightest movement from the closet. Enough was enough. “Chica, why don‟t you go and fetch some refreshments,” Diego kept his eyes on the chessboard. “But my lord, I can ring for a maid.” Diego looked up to give her his most charming smile. “Sí, we could, but it wouldn‟t be hand picked by you, mi estimada.” Simone inflated with pride and fairly floated out of the room. That bought him at least fifteen minutes. “You come out of the closet now,” Diego said turning his attention back to the chessboard.

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Shit! Cher‟s heart stopped dead in chest. How had he known she was there? Swallowing harshly, she commanded her feet to move. Christina was going to kill her. The only thing she could do was to beg for mercy. Marshalling her courage, she marched into the room. “Monsieur, s‟il vous plait, forgive me. I meant no harm, truly, I only wanted to…well, um, see how it was done.” A vicious punch in the gut could not have hit harder than sensation of blood rushing to his cock. After six long months of nothing, he was suddenly harder than steel and desperate to sink himself in to any and every hole she had to offer. He tried in vain to recall what he might have done to have such a goddess practically drop in his lap. Did she really say she just wanted to see how it was done? The little vixen had no idea what she had just gotten herself into. She stood nervously shifting from one foot to another waiting to see what he would do. Diego leaned back in his chair to study the vision in front of him. She had a complexion like peaches and cream. It made the mouth water just looking at it. And that body. She was not dressed like one of the working girls, and seeing as she was obviously a virgin, she was probably some relation to the Madame or her lover. The dress she wore was modest but did nothing to hide the hills and valleys of her delectable petite body. Her hair was the color of a moonless night with a kiss of copper threaded through, which fell in luscious curls to her waist. Ah, to wrap those locks

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around his fist as he rode home! And those eyes! An insufferably rigid hard-on got harder. She had the clearest, purest blue-green eyes he had ever seen. Oh, yes she would be his. “Come here, ñina.” Oh dear, she had definitely stepped in it. Don Diego was not someone to toy with, so she did not hesitate. Diego stood in one lithe movement. If he touched her now she would be flat on her back in a heartbeat. Instead, he moved to stand at her back. Leaning down he whispered in her ear, “To see how what is done querida?” The deep, sensual voice made Cher feel like melting on the stop. “I…I… um, I was curious,” she managed to squeak out. “Curious about what, chica?” He was burying his face in hair. She fell back involuntarily to lean her back into him. He responded by pressing his erection against the small of her back. Oh, God, that felt so good! “I…,” her mind went completely blank when he started placing nibbling kisses along her neck. What had he asked her? Diego couldn‟t remember wanting a woman as he wanted this one. Yet as much he needed to be inside her, he refused to take her here in a brothel. Ridiculous really, seeing as how he had discovered her in one. He just knew deep down this one was

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special. He needed her in his home, in his bed. Knowing he had very little time before Simone returned Diego forced himself to take a step back and turned her to face him. “I think I can help you, querida.” “Help me what?” “You want to know how it‟s done, sí? I will show you.” “Oh, no señor, I cannot…I mean, I am not one of the girls.” “Yes, querida, I know,” he murmured guiding her towards the door. “But what about Christine? I mean Madame L‟Amour…she will be worried if I disappeared…” “Don‟t worry, sweet. I will send a message to let her know you are fine.” Tomorrow, maybe. Though they garnered many stares, no one dared stop the infamous Capitán de Aguilar as he ushered his prize quickly out the front doors and into his carriage. After terse instructions to his coachman to get him home as quickly as possible, Diego climbed in. Not trusting himself to keep his hands to himself, he chose to sit in the seat facing her. “What is your name, querida?” “Cher.” “Just Cher?” “Cherie Durand-Bonnet.” Damn. 50

“Durand-Bonnet? As in…” Although she had promised Christine she would not tell a soul her real identity, she found she could not lie to this man. Those piercing gray eyes demanded absolute truth. “Gaspar Durand is my grand-pére, Claude Bonnet is my papa.” Although France and Spain were not on the best of terms, powerful men in the territories tended to stick together. Maybe he would help her get home. “And how is it the daughter and granddaughter of two very rich very powerful men came to reside in a brothel?‟ Before she knew it, Cher told him the story of how she came to be in Florida. She even told him about her fiancé. Diego had always considered himself an honorable man. An honorable man would have immediately sent word to her family and assisted her in returning home. He had absolutely no intention of doing so. He could not marry her, having an inconvenient wife made it out of the question. But he did need an heir, and God help him, he suspected he needed her. The carriage stopped far too soon for Cher‟s tastes. He had been watching her with a strange intensity, absently toying with the handle of his cane. Watching his long, manicured fingers sent tiny shivers down her spine. What would it feel like to have those hands caressing her? Licking her lips, she forced herself to look up only to find him watching her with a faint smile. 51

“We‟re home, sweet.” Diego‟s mansion was impressive. Opulent, without being pretentious. She didn‟t get the opportunity to observe much because he ushered straight up the curving staircase into the master bedroom. A diligent servant rushed to light candles placed strategically placed around the room. All she could make out was the massive bed. Diego watched her bite her lower lip nervously while her nipples hardened with excitement. It was good to see she was not unaffected by him. Moving close without touching he circled her as if contemplating where to start. Cher shifted nervously. “Mon seigneur, mi señor, I implore you. Now that you know who I am, will you not help me return to ma famille?” Once again, Diego stopped behind her, pulling her body flush to his. “Is that what you really want, mi belleza?” Leaning closer, he whispered softly in her hear, “Do you really want me to act the gentleman, hum? To cart you off to a guest room to suffer a cold, lonely bed?” Cher quivered at a breeze suddenly at her back. Belated she realized her gown had been completely undone. In a slow, languid movement, his hand came to settle on her shoulders, rubbing in firm yet gentle circles. They were definitely a man‟s hand, slightly calloused with implied strength. He was sliding her dress off in an almost casual manner, causing the light silk to pool at her feet. When had he undone her buttons and laces? She stood trembling in only her shift, having forgone a corset for her ill-fated little prank. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet 52

to place her in the middle of the massive bed. He made no move to join her, instead stepping back to remove his clothing in maddeningly slow pace. Any thought of home or her former fiancé fled at her first glimpse of his chest. Though she lived in a brothel, she had never seen a man without clothing. As the jacket and shirt were discarded, Cher‟s breath caught in her throat. Here before her was an upper body designed by God. He was all well-defined muscle, sculpted, and hard; his chest was lightly sprinkled with dark hair leading in a little trail her eyes followed to the top of his tight buckskin breeches, where his hands were now unfastening the buttons one at time. Watching the delightful little vixen, Diego felt like howling in victory. Her eyes drank in every part he revealed, her pink tongue repeatedly licking at her bottom lip, her own chest heaving as she took it all in. He could just make out her nipples hardening in the muted light, making his cock jump in anticipation. He had to temper his enthusiasm, reminding himself she was a virgin and the very last thing he wanted to do was to scare her away. With patience he didn‟t feel, he peeled his pants down, keeping careful watch of her reaction. He was not a small man in any respect. Her fist sight of him fully engorged was bound to be a shock. Cher gasped as the sight of his manhood burst free to point directly at her. Mon Dieu, the man was huge! “You can‟t mean to place that inside me! It will not fit!” There was no possible answer he could give and have her believe it. He stood at the base of the bed, allowing her to look her fill while relishing in the way in which her 53

eyes stayed on him. Grinning wickedly, he elected to give her a little show. Clasping his rigid cock in one hand, he began stoking slowly up and down, watching her tongue dart out between her lips in time with the movement of his hand. Soon he would watch those luscious lips wrapped around him as he slid in and out of her hot little mouth. Just the thought caused him to leak tiny drops of pre-cum. Cher gasped as she watched his root seep out pearly drops of fluid. Thinking he had somehow hurt himself, she flew across the bed to cradle the appendage in her hands. “Are you alright?” Good God, she was going to kill him! Her face was so close, he could feel the subtle heat of her breath against his enflamed skin. His hips thrust forward of their own accord causing his cock to brush against her lips. Diego was not sure what he expected her to do, move back perhaps, wipe the small amount of natural lubricant off with a frown; instead Cher placed a gentle kiss right on the tip. “Abrir a tu amor de la boca,” he encouraged, slipping just a few inches into her mouth as she dutifully opened wide. Without instruction or further encouragement, Cher began tentatively sucking on the enflamed length she could fit in her mouth. She moved in jerky back and forth movement at first, then gradually moving in time with the guiding hand he placed behind her head. Cielo dulce the woman was lethal! In small increments, he fed her more and more until he was hitting the back of her throat. 54

“Relax your throat, meija. Just swallow…sí meija, just like that.” Cher was awash with feeling she could not describe. She hadn‟t meant to put it in her mouth, but seeing it up close, she was curious. At first she believed he was in some kind of pain, she had only meant to kiss it, maybe to make it feel better. Once she tasted him, Mon Dieu! It was intoxicating. When he slipped “it” into her mouth and began to move back and forth, it gave her a heady sense of power, making her feel alive and oh so feminine. If she had felt wet and achy before, she was positively dripping with need now! All too soon he pulled himself away. She leaned forward trying to recapture her prize only to be held back. “No more of that, querida. I will not last.” Stoking her cheek he smiled down and the dazed look in her eyes. “Lay back bebé, let me make you feel good.” Cher did so without a thought. She would do anything to fill the burning need coursing through her body. He took her lips in a savage kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, his hands everywhere at once; he was not giving her time to think, he was simply taking what he wanted like the conquistador he was. She jumped when his fingers found her core, wanting to push him away but needing so desperately ever touch, every caress. “Please,” she begged, arching as he plunged a thick finger into the very heart of her. “Please what, bebé?” he murmured, kissing and nipping along her ear. Please what? How was she supposed to know? 55

“I…I think I hurt,” she whimpered spreading her thighs as another finger joined the first. Her hips were moving in time with his questing fingers, gasping at the sensation those devilishly delightful digits were creating. Oh, God she needed more. His mouth was traveling down the side of her face to her throat until he reached her painfully swollen nipples where he licked, suckled, then bit just enough to make her scream. She could feel her body hurtling toward something momentous, but it was just out of reach. She pleaded, demanded, but he would not relent his total onslaught. Just went she thought she would go insane, he whispered, “Now, querida! Come for me now.” Cher shrieked as her body flew apart. She could feel herself convulsing around the fingers still stroking in and out of her, soaking both of them with evidence of her desire. “What an obedient little pussy,” he praised, finally slipping his fingers out to bring them to his lips. “And so sweet.” She couldn‟t speak. What had he just done to her? She was not so naïve as to believe he had taken her virginity-not yet anyway-but she had never imagined anyone being able to make her feel the way this man had. It appeared there was a lot more to this making love thing than she thought. She watched in fascination as Diego slid down her body to rest his head in between her thighs. What would he do now? She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his tongue slide across her. 56

“What are you doing?” She was shocked that he would lick her there, but it felt wickedly wonderful. “I am tasting my pussy,” came the simple reply followed by a slow, long swipe of the tongue. “What?” Diego lifted his head to watch his new lover trying to squirm away. “Be still,” he demanded. She stilled immediately. Oh, she was too perfect to be true. He had suspected she would be susceptible to his particular needs, though he planned on breaking her in slowly. It appeared she would need very little tutoring, she was naturally submissive. Well, in bed anyway. He had no doubt outside the bedroom she would be a stubborn little imp. To test his theory he sat up abruptly. “Turn around,” he ordered firmly, but without rancor. She did as she was told, without question. Smiling ruefully, he landed two sharp smacks on each cheek of her succulent ass, then reached between her legs. Cher offered nothing more than a surprised “Oh!” and when he felt her pussy grow wetter, it was all he could do not come on the spot. So wonderfully responsive. He might have to keep her in his bed for at least a week, just to explore every inch of her delectable body. “I said I am tasting my pussy,” Diego rubbed the reddened area softly as if to smooth away the sting. The way she sighed and pressed back into his hands made his cock jump. “I want you, lay down and spread you legs for me.” 57

She did so immediately. “Good girl,” Diego murmured sinking his face in between her legs. Just the scent of her made his mouth water. He sank his tongue deep into her weeping cunt, scraping her inflated clit lightly. Cher‟s back arched completely off the bed. It was too much! She had thought his fingers felt like a twisted mixture of heaven and hell, but this! A burning pressure built in her lower belly much stronger than before. She had thought his fingers had taken her to heights she had never known, but his tongue was going to kill her! “S'il vous plait, Monsieur. Je ne peux pas prendre davantage!” Cher pleaded. Her entire insides felt as if lava raced towards an inevitable explosion. “Yes, you can take more and you will,” came the muffled reply. Diego alternated suckling her clit and thrusting his tongue inside her, all while lapping her juices like a man dying of thirst. He was aching to be inside her, but he had to make sure she was as ready as possible. A few seconds later, she went rigid, her hip jerking against his seeking tongue. In one stride, he lifted himself completely over her to drive his cock fully inside her snug little walls. Cher gasped in an enthralling mixture of pleasure and pain. She felt so full, so complete. Instinctively her legs clasped around his waist, as if willing him deeper, though she could feel him deep in her womb already, stretching her to her limit.

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Diego held himself perfectly still, reveling in the way she gripped him close. She felt like velvet heat; it was better than anything he could have imagined. She was so tight it took every ounce of willpower in him not to drive into her like a madman. “How does it feel, bebé?” he whispered as he slowly moved. God, this was going to kill him! Her insides gripped him tighter as she began to move with him. “This is my pussy, sí? No other man will ever know what a perfect little pussy you have.” Cher couldn‟t have answered him even if she tried. With every movement, she felt a new burning sensation. She had long since stopped trying to analyze the thrilling sensations he had awakened in her; all she knew was she never wanted them to end. Lifting her hips to meet his, she let her body ride on a wave of unbelievable bliss, desperate to see if this too, would lead her to that mystical pinnacle she was afraid she could become addicted to. His strokes grew faster, pounding into her with more force. Cher went along with it, locking her legs around him while clutching him to her. Never had pain felt so very good. “Sí bebé, just like that,” her murmured in her ear. “Give it all to me.” Diego grabbed her hips as he began to slam into her in earnest. She was so wet, so tight. He loved the way she cried out her pleasure as he rode her harder and harder, unable to hold back. He wasn‟t going to last, but he needed to take her over the edge with him. “Come for me, bebé. Come now!” 59

Cher screamed, holding on to him for dear life as her world exploded. Vaguely she could feel his seed filling her as he groaned harshly, but she didn‟t care. All that mattered was this one perfect moment. Diego shifted to his back pulling Cher on top of him. He was still buried inside her, nothing on earth could make him leave the warm cocoon he had just made his own. “Did I hurt you, querida?” “It was better than I ever imagined it would be. We can do it again soon, oui?” He grinned at the statement, and the way she snuggled into his chest. Damn, but she knew how to make a man feel like a man. For that alone, he knew he could never let her go.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Christine did not get to be a successful Madame without learning how to read people. Her uncanny ability to read the needs, wants, and true desires of all her customers was something she prided herself on. Instinctively she knew the young man striding purposefully toward her now had absolutely no interest in anyone or anything she had for sell here. Taking in his manner of dress and his carriage, he could only be one of the proud overbearing French she thought she had left behind in New Orleans. Shit! That could only mean he was here for Cherie. Given his age and the tension radiating from him, he was probably her fiancé. It had been over four months since Capitán de Aguilar had strode into Christine‟s private parlor and informed her he had come for Cher‟s belongings and she would not be returning. Truth be told, she had been somewhat relieved. What was there for a gentle bred girl who had lost all of her connections to do in an isolated backwater, with little society and no prospects? Cher was no whore; Christine could have never forced her to become on of the “working girls,” in fact, she did not allow Cher anywhere near that section of the house. How the good captain had seen her was still a mystery; but the deed was done.

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By all accounts, Diego treated Cher like more than a mere mistress. She was his hostess whenever he entertained important guests, she never went out unescorted, and Diego had even imported a dressmaker to ensure Cher was attired in the height of fashion. Christine was graciously allowed to visit her former ward, though she had to enter through the back door and she could only darken milord‟s doorstep once a week, and that was only because Cher had insisted. Had Diego had his way, there would have been no visits from the town‟s most exclusive Madame. Christine did not feel slighted in the least; in fact, she could not have felt prouder. Cher might have been a little lady long before she and Didier had unfortunately kidnapped her, but the fact Cher had come from Christine‟s exclusive house of pleasure gave her a certain cache with her more distinguished clients. Now some of the more prominent men came to see if the too might be as fortunate as the Duque de Suárez. They could never hope to find a lady like Cher in any brothel within several hundred miles, but they didn‟t need to know that. As long as they spent lavishly in the search, and they did indeed, Christine was satisfied. “You are Christine L‟Amour, yes?” Ah, well, Christine thought to herself. I have had a good run. There was really no point in pretending she didn‟t know who he was or why he was here. She was just glad Didier was not here tonight. Her lover would no doubt try to fight to save her from her fate, whatever it may be. It would not matter that they did

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not know who Cher was when they had taken her; they had helped a bitter woman kidnap a child of the cream of New Orleans society. “Yes, I am. And you are Étienne Barbin, no doubt here to collect your fiancée, Cher.” If Étienne was shocked by her surprising candor, he did not show it. An imperial raised brow was the only outward sign he even acknowledged Christine was trying to be as up front as possible. “I am here to collect Miss Cherie Durand-Bonnet,” he stressed. “And yes, she is my fiancée.” Christine studied the young man standing proudly before her. Tall and broad shouldered, he was definitely one of the most handsome young men she had seen, and she had seen more than her fair share. His curly dark auburn hair was perfectly shaped, not a strand out of place. His mustache and goatee were neatly trimmed; strong dark brows and insanely long lashes framed bright blue eyes. Yes, he was definitely a catch and apparently very much in love with his fiancée. Well, that would be ex-fiancée now, wouldn‟t it? By all accounts, Capitán de Aguilar was enthralled with his new mistress. He often conducted business at home with Cher never far from his side. Christine was well aware of all the talk around town on how the good captain could not keep his hands off his lovely companion; sometimes he even went so far as to conduct meetings with Cher on his lap. Given the time they had been together and Cher‟s general naiveté, by now 64

she was probably carrying de Aguilar‟s child. Christine had absolutely no intention of pointing that out the young man standing before her now. He would find out soon enough. “Please, monsieur, have a seat.” Étienne sat in the chair the madame indicated with studied patience he didn‟t feel. Six months! It had been six months since Cher had disappeared. He had been on a fool‟s errand to Canada to catch up with Christine L‟Amour. Thankfully, he had not traveled too far before coming across a group of Spanish travelers who were lost on their way to California territory. He couldn‟t remember just how the subject of whorehouses had come up, but thank God it had. The men had some interesting news of a brand new high-class brothel that had just opened in St. Augustine run by none other than Madame Christine L‟Amour and her lover. The men wanted to know if all women of color from New Orleans were so lovely and so very skilled. Étienne was both relieved and alarmed not to hear of anyone resembling Cher in the conversation. He had turned south that very night and ridden as if Satan himself chased him. Now that he was here, he wanted nothing more than to find his future wife and to go home. “Madame, you must please excuse my rudeness, but it is imperative I collect Cher without delay. As you might expect, her parents are beside themselves and I must admit I too, am anxious to collect by future bride.” There were not many times when Christine could honestly say she had ever been quite so floored, but this was definitely one of them. Although “society” in the New 65

World was quite a bit looser and more democratic than on the continent, the fact this man was tacitly stating Cher would still be his wife was astounding. While young Creole men could marry a woman of color if either his or her connections were right, a young man of wealth and position marrying anything less than a vestal virgin was virtually unheard of. Not to mention the fact there had been no threats or recriminations against her. “Monsieur…” Christine began, trying to find a way to break it to him gently, only to be cut off. “I do not care to hear what she may or may not have done or been forced to do. I will have Cher returned to me, Madame, in whatever condition I can have her.” Christine rose from the comfortable settee to drift toward the picture window revealing the view of her private garden. “Cher is not here, monsieur,” she told him while gazing out at the flowers she had planted with her own to hands. “She is a…guest of Capitán Diego Esteban de Aguilar, Duque de Suárez. You will find her there, if he will allow it.” Étienne felt the breath leave his body. He had expected that Cher would have lost her virginity by now; he had even accepted she might have been used as a whore. As much as the very idea infuriated him to the point of physical pain, none of this was her fault. He would do whatever he could to help her heal from the experience. The one thing he had not expected, that he never allowed himself to even think, was that she might have found a permanent “protector.” The possibility had always been there, of 66

course. Cher was beyond beautiful and it was not unheard of to auction a gently bred virgin to become a mistress vice one of a brothel‟s regular girls. With her breeding and looks, there was little doubt she would have attracted men of wealth and power. Diego de Aquilar was a man of both, his reputation proceeded him throughout the New World. Moreover, he happened to be the son-in-law of Charles the Second, who was the cousin of France‟s own Louis XVI. If de Aguilar did not want to let her go, not even Cher‟s grandfather could make him. Louisiane had technically been under Spanish control for the last 19 years or so, though the Spanish that had settled there had adopted the culture and traditions of the French, and had become true Creoles, the crème de la crème of the territory‟s society. By proxy, the Duke was a part of that society, his name carrying a certain cache Étienne could not hope to overcome. “Do you have his direction?” he asked absently. He had to, at least, see if de Aguilar could be reasoned with. If not, well it would not be his first duel, despite his age. The Duke‟s reputation was fearsome, but for Cher, Étienne would battle Satan himself. Christine turned in surprise. Surely, he knew who de Aguilar was. Who didn‟t? “I do not mean to pry or to give unwanted advice but…” “Then don‟t,” he replied softly. “I would, were I you, give me the information I need and swallow my tongue. Once I am gone, you would do well to fall to you knees in thankful prayer neither I nor my fiancée‟s family feel it necessary to…reprimand you

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regarding your tragic mistake. I think my presence alone is enough to make you think again before offering assistance to an unbalanced, jealous woman, non?” He had not raised his voice. In fact, his voice had become deceptively gentle while being more frightening than any threat she had ever heard in her life. He had not even looked at her with the slightest bit of malice, yet Christine felt shivers from the implied menace spoken as if he were her lover. The icy fear that ran up her spine was immediately replaced by red-hot heat, making her moist and needy. Mon Dieu! She had never met a society swan that could excite her the way this young man just had. And she had thought to warn him of the dangers of the Duke! Had she been a betting woman, there was no way she would place money on either side of what was sure to be a magnificent battle for one very lucky girl.

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Diego clasped and unclasped his fist reflexively as he listened to the report from one of his most trusted retainers. His Majesty Charles the Second had finally sent an emissary he felt Diego could not possibly avoid - his wife. Diego had nothing against his father-in-law, as monarchs go, he was not a bad one. However, when your father-in-law was the king you could not exactly sit him down and explain to him the reason you have failed to produce a child after many years

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of marriage; because you could not stomach to sleep with his daughter who was as frigid as the North Sea and far more fit to take the veil than to be a man‟s helpmeet. His eyes wandered across the expanse of his office to linger at the woman silently embroidering in the corner by the window. There was everything a man could ever possibly need in a woman. Her head was bent at a slight angle, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she concentrated on the task at hand. Due to the muggy heat, she was dressed simply tasteful pastel linen day dress accented with flowing lace, her hair swept up in a pile of riotous curls on the top of her head. Though he had gifted her with jewelry fit for a queen, she wore a simple thin gold chain around her neck and delicate earbobs swung from her ears. She looked so young and innocent; the perfect lady. Cher had become the lady of this household in every since of the word. The servants loved her, following her direction without whimper. Oh, they had balked at first, but surprisingly she had handled the situation skillfully, commanding respect with softly spoken commands laced with steel that brooked no argument. Diego had not noticed that perhaps his home was not as clean as it could have been, or that the food prepared in his kitchen had been a bit bland until she had assembled the entire staff, directing them with the assurance of a little general. Within her first week there, the house sparkled, the food was always piping hot and spiced perfectly, with the appropriate wines for the appropriate courses. Suddenly his business associates angled for invitations to dine, the men in positions of authority had at first brought their long time mistresses with them, but had quickly learned Cherie Durand-Bonnet was no low 69

born whore. Now those few with wives and daughters in the colony were not only brought for dinner parties or the obligatory dance or ball, but encouraged pay afternoon calls. Diego grinned ruefully at the last thought. Many a day he had come home to spend “quality time” with Cherie only to find his lover immersed in a titillating conversation about cloth or some such nonsense. Instead of slinking off as any rational man would do, he sat down much to the thrill of the ladies present and pretended to listen until Cher‟s guests got the hint and finally decided to take themselves off. “Capitán?” With a sigh, Diego turned to the matter at hand. “Ready one of my ships, Carlos,” he told his agitated assistant with more calm than he actually felt. “I have a sudden need to inspect my newly acquired land in Louisiana.” Cher‟s head snapped up. “You have lands in Louisiane?” He could not help put smile at the hopeful expression on her face. “Come here, mi cielo.” Cher felt a shiver at the simple command. He had such a deep, commanding voice, which went hand in hand with his fierce looks. Those clear gray eyes could burn intensely, searing her with a glance or turn bitterly cold towards those who displeased him. They were hot now as they watched her rise slowly from her comfortable chair in 70

a quiet corner, and glide towards him. She held his stare, a slight smile on her lips. She watched with amusement as his nostrils flared at her subtle teasing. Oh, but the man could make her so very hot by a single look! She had previously believed herself to be in love with her fiancé, Étienne-she still had gentle feelings when she dared to think of him-but nothing could ever compare to the feelings Diego Aguilar inspired in her. When she reached within arms length, he reached out to pull her to him. She barely had time to lift her head before he was ravished her mouth. With a sigh, Cher melted into his solid frame. He was not gentle. His tongue pressured her mouth to open while his hands snaked up to entwine in her hair and firmly pulling to tilt her head just they way he wanted it. She whimpered as she pressed herself closer, her skin suddenly unbearable hot and tight. Mon Dieu, but the man could make her forget any and everything with a simple touch! Diego tugged firmly, but not harshly on her hair, forcing her neck to arch as his lips traveled from her own, all over her face to her throat. Placing his other hand on the small of her back, he gently guided her with him as he lowered himself into the large comfortable chair behind his desk, arranging her so that she was straddling him, her rapidly heating core pressing against his painfully throbbing cock. Cher whimpered as she ground her core against him, reveling in the sweet torturous friction against her molten center. All thoughts of Carlos Hernandez standing by Diego‟s desk fled from her head, and his slipping out the room went completely unnoticed.

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Diego was aware of the departure of his assistant and with it the entrance of someone else who stood silently just inside the door. He knew instinctively who had dared breached his domain without permission. The young man was well dressed, impeccably groomed, unlike so many fortune hunters that came to the New World. Carlos had warned him that Cher‟s former fiancé was in town, looking for his lost love. It had only been a matter of time before he found her and it appeared Étienne Barbin had finally found his missing fiancée. Not that Diego blamed him for searching high and wide for her. Cher was worth far more than her weight in gold. Sweet, sexy, intelligent, and exciting were just a few of her finer points. The woman currently in his arms was the type of woman who inspired a man to be far more than he ever thought he could be. She inspired him to want to be a better man, though in all honestly, that would mean letting her go back to her family. That was something Diego was afraid he could never do. The little French puppy would just have to understand his former fiancée was permanently lost to him. Normally he would never allow another man even a glimpse of the treasure he held in his arms, but he had an overwhelming need to show the younger man in a way words never could that this woman was his completely and irrevocably. Moving his hands to her bodice, he ripped the material from the neckline to the waist, causing Cher to gasp in a mixture of surprise and excitement. She did not wear a torturous corset at his insistence. Diego would not allow anything to impede his constant need for access to her lush body. After removing her arms from the now ruined sleeves, he 72

pulled up the skirts of her day gown while snaking one hand to cup her sumptuous ass closer to his aching cock, he bent forward to capture a diamond hard nipple into his mouth. She threw her head back with a heavy groan, trying desperately to get closer. “S'il vous plait, Diego,” Cher moaned. She wanted more, needed more! “J'ai besoin de lui.” “Tell me what you need, meija.” He pressed her now dripping pussy against his painful erection while holding tight, not allowing her to grind against him. Lifting his head from her heaving breasts, lifting the skirt of the wrecked gown even higher, he rubbed a single thick finger against her shaved lips. What delight his little Cher had turned out to be! She was an eager and willing student in the art of sensual delights. She never balked or refused to try anything, but it was still a challenge to actually get her say words like “cock” or “pussy”, though she denied him nothing. Diego feared she carved a permanent home in his jaded heart with her intoxicating mixture of innocence and wantonness. What man could want more? “Say it, Cherie,” he demanded against the soft skin of her throat. “Please,” she moaned wiggling her hips against him. “I need you.” He stood placing her on the edge of his desk as he kneeled before her. The French puppy hovering by the door would not be able to see him feast on Cher‟s delectable little pink pussy, but he would make damn sure he left no doubt as to what he was doing.

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“Tell me what you need me to do, bebé,” Diego murmured against her thigh. “What do you need me to do?” Cher shuddered as Diego kissed and nibbled her inner thighs. She tried desperately to move her aching core to wherever his mouth was, but he held her hips in firm hands. Mon Dieu, but the man was masterful! He could make her moist and needy with a simple touch. “I need you to kiss me,” she begged. “Kiss me… between my legs.” Diego kissed her right at her hairline where her pelvis began, right above where he knew she wanted him to be. “Here?” Cher growled softly in frustration. She panted in need as he blew softly against her outer lips then leaned closer to her core to inhale the perfume of her desire now pungent in the air, all without touching her where she wanted him most. “I hurt,” she whimpered fighting a desperate battle with her hips to move forward just a few inches. “Tell me where it hurts, bebé, and I‟ll kiss it.” There was no hope for it. He would not relent until she said all the naughty little words he had taught her. To be perfectly honest, she not only had no problem using wicked language as long as they were alone and engaged in love play, but it also sent a delicious little thrill whenever she uttered taboo words and phrases and literally drenched her underclothing whenever he used them. “My, my…pussy,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. 74

“What about my pretty little pussy, chica?” He was now swirling his tongue right at the juncture where her thigh met her pelvis, causing her to pant in desperation. “I need you in my pussy!” she exploded, tired of his torture. “You fingers, your tongue, your…your cock!” With a growl, Diego buried his head right where she desperately needed him. With a grateful sigh, Cher leaned back on her elbows, spreading her legs wider to allow him maximum access. “Oh, God yesssss…” she moaned as his wicked tongue laved her appreciative clit while his fingers lunged deep, stroking that special place Diego called her “G-spot.” Whatever the hell it was, it sent sinfully delightful currents of bliss throughout her body. Diego moved his hands to her buttocks, lifting her closer against his questing mouth. Her pants had turned into to pleading moans, her hip frantically moving against him as he fucked her relentlessly with his tongue. Her release came with crashing intensity, causing Cher to grip hanks of his hair in a vicious grip. Diego reveled in the sharp sensation, loving that it was him making her scream out in joy while her body convulsed, physical proof of her pleasure. Without waiting for the spasms from her explosive orgasm to subside, he plowed his entire rigid into her welcoming body. Cher screamed out in pleasure, erupting immediately into another round of orgasmic tremors. Diego hissed through his 75

teeth as the sensation of her incredibly tight, wet pussy gripping his cock. Refusing to give into the aching need to flood her with his seed, he held her immovable against his body until he could move without coming. In the back of his mind he was aware of the primal demand he showed the young man still standing silently by the door this woman had been claimed in every way. “Tell me, querida, to whom do you belong?” His normally deep voice laced with intense passion never failed to send shivers down her spine. Looking into his eyes, she could see he was struggling to stay in control, so afraid he would hurt her. It touched her that he was such a considerate lover, but the knowledge that she had the power to inspire unbridled lust thrilled her. She knew if she failed to answer, it would send him closer to the edge. Clinching his jaw tightly, he began to move in slow, drawn out strokes. He retreated until he was almost completely out of her body only to thrust forward forcefully repeatedly. Cher met him thrust for thrust, anchoring her feet on the edge of the desk; she arched her back so that she could propel her hips upward in time with each down stroke, but he refused to give into her silent request to increase his rhythm. When she still refused to answer, he plunged to the hilt and remained perfectly still. “Querida, who do you belong to?” His voice was threatening, but it was a threat in which she had no fear. Grinning in anticipation she shrugged, “Well, to myself, of course.”

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Diego arched one eyebrow. So she wanted to play did she? He casually reached down to stroke her face, stopping to gently cradle her face. She was going to be furious when she found out what was behind this little interlude, not that he was not going to make love to her anyway. It seemed he could not go more than half a day without being buried deep inside her. But right now, he needed her complete submission. He doubted that would stop Étienne Barbin from trying to steal her away, but he had to strike a deep blow to the boy to let him know he was in for one hell of a fight. A fight the boy would not win while Diego still drew breath. “Chica,” he murmured looking deeply into her eyes, “you will tell me what I want to know.” He swiveled his hips without withdrawing or thrusting forward. His smile was pure sin at her mewing protest as she tried to move beneath him. “Tell me.” “You!” she cried in desperation still trying to move. “Me, what?” “I belong to you, damn it! My body, my mind, my everything! Please mon amoureux, please. I need you!” Allowing himself another humorless smile, he still refused to allow her further completion. “And do you wish to leave me?” “Non!” He rewarded her with one stroke. “Not even for your fiancé?”

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Cher was beyond thinking about anything other than Diego and the delicious sensations he inspired in her. She answered without thinking, but she answered truthfully. Looking directly into his eyes she stated in a softly, but in a clear, unwavering voice, “I want no one but you. I need no one but you.” With that simple statement, the primeval animal Diego held in broke free in a way he had never allowed before. He withdrew, ignoring her cry of protest, flipping her face down over the desk. Spreading her legs, he growled, “Don‟t move!” Reaching into a side drawer, he retrieved cream he usually used for chapped hands. With gentleness he did not feel, he spread the cheeks of her buttocks, working the cream with one finger into the rosette staring up at him, daring him. Cher let out a startled yelp, but did not try to move away “Relax, querida,” he whispered working his finger into her. “Push against my finger.” Breathing deeply, she did just as she was told, permitting him to do as he wished. One finger was soon replaced by two; at first it felt odd and slightly painful, but as he began to scissor his fingers the sight pain was replaced by a deliciously intense pleasure. Suddenly the fingers were gone and in their place, she left the thick head of his penis pressing against her forbidden hole. “Push down, bebé dulce.” She did immediately allowing him to slip in inch by torturous inch. “Sí, mi poco amor. You are so tight, so good.”

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He started slowly, giving her time to adjust. It was everything he knew it would be. She lay with her head down, but she had begun to move in time with his movements. Reaching around to caress her engorged clit, he was elated find her so wet she soaked his hand. Encouraged, he sank two fingers inside her aching pussy while using his thumb to rib her clit. He was immediately awarded by the tightening of her anal walls to grip his cock like a live, warm pulsating vice. Cher panted as she felt her body responding to the strange new feelings he was invoking. He hauled her upper body up with one hand keeping his other entrenched inside her ever drenched pussy. She leaned her head against his shoulder, entwining her arms around his neck. “Diego, what are you doing to me,” she sobbed, loving every minute. He alternately kissed and nibbled the side of her neck up to her ear where he whispered, “I want to make you feel good, chica.” He pressed her even closer to him, never missing a stroke as he kneaded her breasts and stimulating her pussy and her clit. “And you, my bad little girl, are killing me.” Cher‟s only answer was her moans as she pushed back against his marauding cock. Diego increased his tempo until he was pounding in and out of her ass as if his life depended on it. She arched her back and met him stroke for stroke, crying out his name until she screamed as her body shook. “That‟s it, querida. Come for me, bebé.” The muscles inside her ass grabbed onto his cock as if it was trying to suck him dry. With a roar, he plunged down releasing everything he had.

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Cher collapsed in a boneless heap on the desk trying to catch her breath. Diego had always been a forceful lover, but never had he taken her the way he did today. Her entire body felt like one big bundle of nerves. Even his soft caresses along her back caused mini quakes all over her body. She could never belong to any other man now, not even Étienne. She belonged to Diego, completely and of her own free will. Once back in New Orleans she would have to find a way to tell her parents and Oncle Luc. She knew they had wanted her to marry to ensure her a stable future. The life of a placée was an uncertain one to say the least. One day you might be the apple of your protector‟s eye, but all to often, those who could afford a wife forgot all about her and any children that might have resulted from his former passion after he found a wife. Sometimes, he just tired of her and went on to greener pastures. Either event left the woman and her children devastated, and without means of support. With Diego, Cher would take that risk. And as long as she stayed in Louisiane, she did not have to worry about how she would support herself or any future children they might have. She had every confidence Papa would ensure she was financially secure. A part of her would always love Étienne, but she was hopelessly bound to her Spanish lover. She could never go back to the way things used to be. “Are you okay, querida?” Diego asked worriedly as he withdrew as gently as he could, and gathered her against his chest. The thought of her noticing the young man by the door was secondary to making sure he had not hurt her or disgusted her. “I feel wonderful,” was the muffled reply as she snuggled deeper into his arms. 80

He could not help but smile in relief. She was an absolute treasure. “Are you sure I didn‟t hurt you? You are not sore?” “Of course I‟m sore, she murmured fighting valiantly to stay awake. “But it is quite a satisfying soreness. Now leave me alone and let me rest.” Diego smiled, his heart full as he gently kissed her on the forehead. Without thought, he spoke what was in his heart. “I love you, Cherie.” “I love you, Diego.” Looking over her reclining body, Diego‟s eyes locked with the Cher‟s former fiancé in unspoken communication. The young man stiffened, narrowing his own eyes in response. No, this one would not give up so easily. Still, Diego had made his point. While he could not offer Cher marriage, as the other man could, he had still taken and claimed her. He would not be the gentleman and bow out, allowing this young pup to take her.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Diego sighed as he looked out over the seemingly endless blue sea. If the winds prevailed, they would arrive in New Orleans in a week. It could not be soon enough for him. Étienne Barbin was proving to be a far more worthy opponent then he had first believed. The little interlude in his study meant to send the little shit a message seemed to goad the pup. Instead of exiting gracefully, the boy had stood right there making his presence known. Cherie had been furious! Diego didn‟t even think to deny he had known the pup was there. She would have seen that for the lie it would have been. Instead of exploding there, she had gathered what remained of her tattered dress and exited the room as regal as a queen. She promptly locked herself in the suite of rooms adjoining his own refusing to speak to either man for three days, and when she did, she blistered both men‟s ears; something about “overbearing male stupidity.” His little darling had a red-hot temper. Ah, but the makeup was twice as fiery. Even if he did have regrets about not taking her back to her family immediately after learning who she was, (which he didn‟t), he felt no such qualms after the she had finally decided to forgive him. They had not left the bedroom for two days. If it weren‟t for the fact Diego wanted to be as far

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away from Florida as possible when his estranged wife arrived, they might have stayed even longer. After creating a false trail from Florida, to Cuba, then to Haiti, they finally set sail towards New Orleans. During the entire trip, „Tienne had done nothing but get under his skin. The boy hovered around his woman constantly. Determined to win her back, „Tienne did not let any opportunity go by to touch her, to assist her in anyway, just to be near her. Diego just might have to kill the insolent little bastard and be done with it. “We will arrive soon, non?” Well speak of the devil. “About a week,” came the terse reply. Étienne studied the man beside him. He was obviously upset with him and rightfully so. The man believed that he had found a rare treasure only to find someone else had a prior claim. Were the situation reverse Étienne would probably be holding on to Cherie with every bit as much tenacity as the Duke. He felt no real animosity towards the older man. But he would not ever give up his beloved. “Do you not begin to see I can‟t just let her go?” Diego raised a brow at the boy‟s sudden change in tactics. They had never openly acknowledged the battle for the heart of Cherie they were engaged in. It was just implicitly understood. “I understand completely, pup,” Diego growled. “That does not mean I will let her go.” 83

“I can offer her more.” Diego whirled to face him. “Can you, pup? Can you make her scream your name the way she screams mine? Can you make her forget everything except your rod taking her over the edge over and over again? Can you give her a child like to one she carries now?” He had not meant to say anything. Cherie herself did not even realize it yet, but she was most definitely carrying his child. She had not had her cycle since their first night together, a fact that gave Diego immense pride and satisfaction. Looking at Étienne now, he could tell the pup had known too. “You cannot give her your name, Diego. You cannot give her the protection that comes with marriage. You may be able to take her child as your heir, but would she ever forgive you if you took her baby back to Spain with you?” “I could take her…” “As what?” Étienne demanded. “Your mistress? Spain is not as tolerant or welcoming as France. She would never be happy there and only the most selfish of bastards would ask that of her!” Diego know everything the irritating little shit was saying was true, but that didn‟t mean he had to like it. Stepping closer, he grabbed the younger man by his shirt and got right in his face. “You don‟t think I know that?!” Diego roared. “You don‟t think those very thoughts haven‟t kept me up at night? I know the right thing to do would be to let her go, but I can‟t! I cannot let her go! I will NEVER let her go!” 84

Gray eyes clashed with blue as neither man backed away. Their faces were so close their noses were almost touching. The tense silence stretched for a full minute before Étienne responded softly. “I can no sooner walk away than you.” Diego looked at the younger man in amazement. They were well and truly t an impasse. The little shit wasn‟t going to let go, he could see it in his eyes. Never had any man stood up to the formidable Duque de Suárez and lived to tell about it, but this pup was not afraid of incurring his wrath. Standing toe to toe, Étienne‟s eyes never wavered, his body did not flinch. Diego had the most insane urge to lean forward and peck the little bastard on the cheek, or on the lips. What the hell?! Diego abruptly released the other man and took a step back. It was the stress. He had not been alone with Cherie for at least a week. She had been ill since leaving Cuba. Morning sickness, though she didn‟t have a clue yet. The pup looked so much like a girl, he was probably just horny, and that‟s all. He had not seriously been contemplating kissing the little shit. Turning away, Diego took a calming breath and tried to clear his head. Étienne on the other hand understood very well what had just happened. He had seen the look Diego had just given him whenever Claude looked at Luc. He was not nearly as shaken up by the sudden rush of blood to his cock at the thought of Diego‟s lips descending on his. That he had developed a habit of getting as hard as a rock whenever staring at the older man too long no longer came as a surprise to him. He accepted that he was beginning to want Diego as much as he wanted Cherie. Watching 85

Diego breathe in and out roughly as he glared at the waves, Étienne finally knew what he had to do to win his fiancée back. He had to welcome Diego into his life as well. Smiling at the plan hatching in his head, Étienne leaned against the ship‟s rail. “So you know I will never give up trying to steal my fiancée back from you, non?” “What is your point, pup.” “We can always share.” Diego‟s entire body went rigid. He wanted so much to be able to yell “No!” at the top of his lungs, but he couldn‟t. From the day Étienne entered his library, Diego had dreamed of little else. It was a complete blow to his pride, but damned if he didn‟t want the little shit in his bed. Not as much as he wanted or needed Cherie, but the longing was there. “Cherie is not a whore,” Diego managed to croak out. Étienne‟s eyes narrowed. “I don‟t remember implying she was.” Diego turned to face the younger man, but refused to look him in the eye. “This conversation is over pup.” Étienne smiled as he watched Diego stride towards the spacious cabin he shared with the woman of both of their dreams desperately trying to hide the hard on he was sporting. “Ask Cher to tell you about Oncle Luc,” he called after him. Diego paused, but did not turn around. Étienne knew he heard him and that was all he needed. Diego might not ask right away, but he would ask. He only wished he could be around to see his face when she told him. ******* 86

“Maman!” Cherie flew into the arms of her mother as soon as the carriage stopped in front of her grandfather‟s luxurious mansion located in the heart of the garden district. Claude followed in his daughter‟s wake more sedately. He watched the motherdaughter reunion with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation. They had received word from Étienne that he had found their lost child at last, a little more than a month ago. What the young man had failed to reveal was that Cher had become the paramour of a notorious Spanish duke. A royal duke, at that. Though Étienne had assured him more than once since meeting the ship that had brought Cher back home that he had every intention of marrying Cher, Claude had his doubts the young man would ever get the chance. Diego Esteban de Aguilar would not let his lady love go so easily. It had taken Claude less than five minutes of observing the enigmatic duke with Cher to recognize the depth of feelings the man had for her. Possessiveness boarding on obsession, coupled with a healthy dose of pure unadulterated lust only began to describe it. Then there was the question of the child Cher was now carrying. Claude gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to dwell on the all the problems he feared he would not be able to help his only daughter resolve. Besides, she wasn‟t even aware she was pregnant. Now was the time to rejoice and celebrate her return home. “Come, you must be tired,” Amélie ushered Cher into the house. “Your grandmére is most anxious to see you!” 87

Cher relaxed and allowed herself to bask in the love of her family. How she had missed them! After hugs and kisses from her grandfather and uncles, her mother and grandmother had ushered her upstairs putting off the demands from the men to know the details of her kidnapping. “There will time enough for that later,” Solange admonished. “The child is no doubt weary after such an ordeal, non?” Cher was grateful for her timely interference. Now alone with her mother and grandmother she let herself relax completely. The older women had ordered her a hot bath and were now busily helping her out of her heavy traveling gown so she could enjoy a nice, long soak and perhaps some answers to the myriad questions about this whole placée business. Both women would no doubt be disappointed she would not be marrying Étienne, but how could she now? No matter she still had feelings for him, she was hopelessly in love with her fierce duke. The thought of never being in his arms again was too terrible to contemplate. Relaxing all of her muscles in the fragrant bath, she allowed her mother and grandmother to soothe all the aches and pains from her travel weary body. Funny, she didn‟t remember her original trip to Florida being so very exhausting. But then, they had made several stops along the way. And then there was Diego, who had been extremely diligent in his attentions towards her. Though she had tried to assure him she would always belong to him,, no matter what her family had to say in the matter, it almost seemed as if he was afraid of losing her and made love to her every night as if it 88

would be the last time. Part of his actions were probably brought on by the presence of Étienne no doubt. But surely he must know she could never marry „Tienne. She was hopeless entranced by her fierce duke. A sharp gasp from her grandmother brought her out of quiet contemplations. “What is it?” she asked her grandmother anxiously. “I am not hurt…” “Cher, when was the last time you had your menses?” Amélie asked her daughter softly. Cher looked from her mother to her grandmother. Her menses? Why would they ask her about that? “Maman, I am perfectly fine,” she assured her firmly. “Christine ensured my safety at all times. I was never unescorted or…abused in any way! I know it sounds odd, but she took care of me as you would. And after Diego, urh, found me, I was never out of his sight.” “Ma amoureux,” Solange soothed, “we have no doubt your Diego took very good care of you. We only want to know when was the last time you bled? Your womanly bleeding?” “I don‟t know. It had to be…” Cher‟s voice trailed off as realization struck her. She had not bled since she met Diego, and that was three months ago. Color drained from her face as her knees threatened to buckle. She was with child! Wordlessly, Amélie and Solange grabbed her arms and settled her on the soft bed. Her eyes and hands flew to her stomach in 89

wonder. Sure enough, there was a soft rounding she had failed to notice. Her thoughts wandered to just this morning when she had attempted to don a corset, for propriety she had explained to Diego. He had literally snatched it from her, railing all kinds of nonsense about how unhealthy the “damnable contraptions” were. He had known. But of course, he had known. Lately he made love to her so gently she thought she go mad. She had to say the dirtiest things to make him lose control and take her with authority, and even then he had seemed overly cautious. He had even taken up the habit of rubbing her belly a lot lately, holding it closely as they slept. Gradually shock gave away to joy. She was going to have a baby! Loud voices ascending the stairs snapped the women out of their silent reflection. Cher could make out her grandfather and brothers raised voices getting closer. Solange quickly threw a light blanket over the shoulders of her granddaughter before the door burst open. “Diego!” Throwing the blanket off Cher threw herself into the arms of her lover as soon as he burst through the door. Solange and Amélie quickly moved to push most of the younger men out of the room. Only Gaspar remained, who stared dumbfounded at the man who had stormed into his home demanding to see his only granddaughter, and now stood in the middle of the bedroom holding his very bare grandchild as if they were alone. Solange placed a comforting hand on her long time lover‟s arm. “Let‟s just give them a minute.” 90

Gaspar raised a brow, but allowed himself to be led out of the room. “I suppose you know what this is all about?” he asked after Solange had firmly shut the door. Solange nodded her head sadly. Both Gaspar and Claude had wanted so badly to see Cherie married with a secure place in society. Now the machinations would come to naught. “I fear there will be no wedding between Cherie and Étienne,” she sighed. “But I just spoke to the boy and his father not thirty minutes ago and they both assured me no matter what Cher has been through, 'Tienne has ever intention of making Cher his bride.” Solange sighed again. There was no hope for it. “Oui, but there has been a recent development I am afraid. Cher is pregnant.”

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CHAPTER SIX

“Have you unpacked yet?” Diego demanded burying his face in Cher‟s freshly washed hair. God knows he had tried to stay away, to let her have a happy reunion with her family. But the specter that they might try to convince her to give him up was driving him crazy. It took him all of an hour and a half to secure a home right here in the garden district. There was no furniture, other than the dismantled massive bed shipped with them. Along with various other smaller household items, the servants his firebrand of a lover demanded he set free and pay a fair wage to ensure their comfort, until she could attain as many servants and as much furniture as she needed to decorate and maintain

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the mansion as she saw fit. He would be damned if he spent one night away from the woman who was quickly becoming as necessary to him as the air he breathed. “No, my luggage just arrived,” she indicated to the trunk that stood by the bedroom door. “But I have an entire wardrobe here already. I did not exactly pack for my little adventure.” He would never say, it aloud but Diego would forever be grateful for the misdeeds that blew Cher his way. “Find something to put on so I can take you home.” Cher‟s heart sped at the authoritative tone in which he spoke. Still, she had not seen her family in over four months! “I can‟t possibly leave yet,” she said taking a step back. “There is so much I have to talk to Maman and Grand-mére about. And my brothers, I must see how they are. I‟m sure they were all worried sick about me! And Oncle Luc! I have not seen him at all. Papa went to collect him, I‟m sure…” Diego grasped her by the waist bring her freshly bathed body flush with his. Immediately his rod rose to attention at her nearness, but there would time enough for that later. Right now, he had to make sure his woman understood her place would forever be at his side. Tilting her head up to face him he bent to place a feather soft kiss on her parted lips. “I will not spend the night without you querida. I can‟t.”

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Cher was captivated by the possessiveness and longing she saw in the burning gray depths of his eyes. With one look, she was unbearably hot and needy. As much as she might wanted to deny him, to assert her independence, there was no way she would not give in. The fact excited and infuriated her at the same time. “Your family can visit you…tomorrow, I promise,” Diego‟s grip tightened on her waist. “I need you tonight, bebé. Just you and me.” He wanted to tell her of his fears she would turn away from him and return to her fiancé. He wanted to share how scared he was, that now that she was back among family and friends, he would lose her. The words stuck in his throat, his pride refusing to let her know how much he needed her. Diego would have been astonished to know Cher did not need the words, for the anguish she saw in his face let her know. Without a word, she reached up to stroke his cheek. He would never admit it, but he loved it when she touched him like that. The man was such a big baby at times. “I cannot stay at hotel, Diego. There are far more rules here than in Florida.” “I bought us a house, just down the street.” Cher pulled away from her lover‟s arms, dumbfounded. He really had no clue how society worked here, or anywhere else for that matter. Being a duke and married to the king‟s daughter, she doubted he ever had to bow to convention before. The dominant French culture in the Louisiana territory was somewhat more relaxed than the Spanish, but there were far more European women here than in all of the other territories currently under Spanish rule. 94

The Plaçage system had certain unwritten rules that all but the most powerful were expected to live by. While the single men chased free women of color, or freed slaves that were their lovers, married men were far more circumspect as a rule. Some were, some were not. Many children of liaisons between French and Spanish men were supported by well-to-do fathers. A majority of sons born from these relationships were sent to Europe to be education, or set up in businesses and plantations of their own, as were Cher‟s brothers and uncles. Some inherited. Such lax attitudes concerning race mixing incensed European women who were constantly pushing for more restrictions on the gens de couleur libres. As a result the government had passed code noir, or black codes, that instituted silly laws such as the “tignon laws”, that decreed femmes libres de couleur must cover their hair, which the women promptly turned into a badge of honor. They wore silk and satin headdresses, elaborately tied and adorned. Codes outlawing cohabitation and marriage were ignored. There were even men like her father and grandfather who lived openly with their mistresses, or placées, however that was not at all common. Diego did not understand that by living openly with her would blacklist him from every home with a wife or daughter of European decent. While most men could care less, there would be a social price to pay. The women here were not so desperate for feminine company that they would be seen within 100 yards of her. “Diego I cannot live with you here,” Cher said softly. “This is not like San Agustín. Things are not so free here.” 95

“Your parents and grandparents seem to have no problems. Am I not as powerful as they are, chica?” “But of course! I have to point out the women here will not look kindly on you living openly with your placée. Such rumors have a way of floating across waters. I would not want to some vengeful woman to make things difficult for you.” Diego tightened his grip around the waist of a very naked Cher. The very thought of spending one night away from her was more than he could endure. Polite society be damned, as if he gave a tinker‟s damn for such things. “Cher, you will live in my house. You will sleep in my bed. I don‟t care if the governor himself is offended. Besides,” smirking, he bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips, “I outrank him.” ******* It took longer than Diego expected to make it out of Gasper Durand‟s home. When he and Cherie had emerged from her former bedroom, they were quickly ushered into the older man‟s study, where he was interrogated for almost an hour. Diego had stood unflinching in battle, braved wild and untamed territories, stared down his own king on occasion, but the first time he had known pure fear was facing Cherie‟s male relatives. Five uncles and seven brothers were surely too much for any one woman to have! If it weren‟t for the collective efforts of Cher, her mother Amélie, and her grandmother Solange, he would surely be dead by now. To make matters worse, the ever present 96

Étienne had arrived with his father, both still insisting little pup would marry his Cher and make a “honest” woman of her. No one seemed to be amused by his quip that she was perfectly “honest” with him. Between the puppy-dog looks towards his woman and the inscrutable glances in his own direction, Diego‟s patience stretch to its limits. Then there was the mysterious Uncle Luc. Cher‟s father Claude had just come in with the tall quiet blonde just as they were being ushered into the library. He said nothing, just stood to the right of Amélie while Claude stood on her left. He was not openly hostile as were the other men in the room. Diego found his eyes drawn to the silent man more and more. Funny, two of Cher‟s brothers looked just like… He managed to swallow his gasp before it escaped from his lips. Turning away, he caught the smirk Étienne threw at him. On the ship, the younger man had told him to ask Cher about her Uncle Luc, which of course he had not. He had stormed into their cabin and proceeded to make love to her until he couldn‟t think. He didn‟t want to think of the reason he had been so aroused. He refused to question what it was about arguing with the infernal boy that made him so amorous. Surely it was only a product of the younger man trying to take his woman. That she had once been promised to the other was of no consequence. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Étienne still looking in his direction. He was no longer smirking. The look in his eyes was something Diego did not want to acknowledge. Perhaps he would ask Cher about Uncle Luc when they got home. Then again, perhaps not. 97

Cher had felt the tension steadily building in Diego‟s body all afternoon. She had expected he would relax once they were finally away from her family, but even in the carriage, he was visibly on edge. “What is it?” Cher asked softly laying her head on his chest. “Nothing. I am just relieved to be out of the lion‟s den.” Diego‟s arms immediately embraced her, holding her close. What could he say? He had no idea what he was feeling. It had been a relief beyond anything he had ever felt when her male relatives had finally ceded her choice to be with him for now. There would no doubt be attempts to get her to come to senses and marry Étienne. He would deal with the challenges as they came. All that mattered was that he had the woman who completed him in a way he felt no woman ever could. It was a rare thing to him. People feared him, they respected him, but very few had ever loved and gave him the unconditional acceptance and love the way she did. So what was wrong with him? “There is something I need to tell you.” Diego tensed. For a split second, he was afraid to hear what she might say. If her family had convinced her to come home to them, she would not be in the carriage with him now, he told himself. Still there was a trickle of apprehension about what she might say. “Tell me, bebé,” he whispered into her hair. “I am with child.” Diego was so relieved he couldn‟t speak for a minute. 98

“Diego? Are you upset?” “I know.” “I thought as much.” Cher pulled herself upright to look in his face. “Is that why you wanted me to come with you? Because of the child?” She knew he wanted a child and for some reason he had been unable to have one with his wife. Maybe the desperate need for her stemmed from his desire for a child. “Cherie, bebé,” Diego pulled her back into his arms. “I am overjoyed about the child. I am crazy about you.” Pulling her completely on his lap, he forced her chin up. “Look at me querida. I love you. I never thought it possible until you came into my life.” His lips descended on hers as he kissed her softly, murmuring, “I need you. After having a slice of heaven, I find I cannot live without it. You are my heaven, Cher.” The kiss became deeper until their breath mingled, tongues intertwined, their bodies pressing together as if seeking to meld. “I swear I will never let you go.”

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CHAPTER SEVEN Diego was in a rotten mood. The Honorable Governor of Louisiana and Cuba, Bernardo de Gálvez y Madrid, Vizconde de Gálveztown just happened to be in New Orleans and had dropped by this morning for a “chat”. Diego had tried to be politely interested. De Gálvez was a military man, so he as intolerable as most in government. He was decent governor, though lately he had been spending more time in Havana with his father, Matías de Gálvez y Gallardo, Viceroy of New Spain, who was 100

said to be gravely ill. It was whispered de Gálvez would replace his father. That meant he too had many ties to the throne, which meant he was hear to spy. He had tried to rope him into attending some damnable ball held in the governor‟s honor. Because his wife, Matías would be present. There was no way he could take Cher, which meant there was no way he would attend. The governor‟s wife was criollo, meaning she was of pure Spanish blood. She could barely tolerate the French, (he guessed she had conveniently forgotten the King of Spain was cousin to the King of France, and descended from French royalty), she would probably burst something important were he to walk in with his beautiful quadroon. He was gracious in his decline of the invitation, but the governor had not been pleased. Diego was obliged to remind Vizconde de Gálveztown that even when his father died and he became Conde de Gálvez, Diego would still be not only a duke, but a Duque Real, thereby outranking the pissant governor. After several failed attempts to rankle a dinner invitation, an invitation tea and blunt questions concerning the extent of the lands and business he had acquired during the five years he had been in New Spain, the governor finally left. He had only been back to examining contracts on some land he had recently purchased in Mexico when his door was once again thrown open without preamble, and the man he was coming to think of as his father-in-law, Claude Bonnet, strode in with his ever present shadow, Luc. Neither man looked happy, which did not bode well 101

for him. Claude had recently been informed of his only daughter‟s impending pregnancy and had been decidedly cool towards Diego though not outwardly hostile. Luc, who never said much, had begun to study him whenever they were in the same room together in way that was quite unsettling, and Diego rarely deigned to be unsettled by anyone. The man was just too damn calm. There was something about him that made Diego believe he could see into the darkest recesses of his soul, places Diego never wanted to acknowledge, let alone explore. Now the man looked disturbed, and Luc was never disturbed. “I came to inform you if you care for my daughter, you might want to stick closer to home,” Claude growled at him as soon as he closed the door behind him. Diego sat back in his chair, silently grounded his teeth waiting for Claude to continue. There had to be more than that cryptic statement. He was well aware the man had his sons and God knows who else watched his every move. Anytime he stepped out of his home without Cher in tow, (and sometime even with her), he was followed. The only reason why he allowed such a thing was for Cher. He couldn‟t very well run one of her brothers through just because they irritated him to no end, though Buen Dios how he wanted to! Her uncles were far more blunt, walking right up to him and having the cheek to inquire what he was doing and where was Cherie. He hadn‟t had to answer to anyone since he was in leading strings. None were impressed by his title or position in the royal navy. He decided he liked Cher‟s uncles for their sheer audacity. 102

When Claude went no further, Diego sighed and stood with every intention of escorting the men out. He seriously doubted Claude spent every waking minutes at home in attendance to his lovely wife, or lover rather. It was irrelevant that Diego wanted nothing more than to be at home with his Cherie, the man had no right telling him how handle his life or his woman even of he was her father. “Yes, well, thank you very much for advice. I will take it to heart.” He said coming around the desk to open the door. “Claude, tell him.” Diego stopped cold. Luc was not one to talk, so the quiet command was a shock. The man had a deep, authoritative voice, one that obviously made Claude the Obstinate obey. “My wife had escaped the asylum to which she was committed after she…after…” “After she kidnapped and sold your daughter to a brothel?” Diego supplied helpfully. At least he thought he was being helpful. Claude glared at him and stalked to one of the chairs in front of his desk. When Luc followed in a much more measured sedate pace, Diego had no choice but return to his seat behind the desk. “Who is with Cher now?” Luc asked quietly after all the men sat down. “I believe she went with you, your, uh…” What the hell do you call the mistress to the father of your mistress who also happened to be your mistress's mother? It boggled the mind. “She is with her mother, shopping I believe.”

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“‟Tienne went with them,” Claude stated absently. “So she should be safe enough for now. Besides, Amélie wouldn‟t let Agathe anywhere near her baby.” That accursed puppy again! Now Diego had a raging headache. If he were honest, he would admit he felt better knowing Étienne was with Cher when he wasn‟t around. But Diego did not feel like being honest. He did not want to admit to himself the raging jealousy he should have felt was not there whenever he walked into the house and Étienne was there. He would not own up to the fact he kind of liked the boy and enjoyed his company. He refused to acknowledge he sometimes fantasized… “I don‟t remember Amélie saying anything about shopping last night or this morning.” Diego‟s headache evaporated. Luc sounded downright upset. He was glaring at Claude who was squirming in his seat. “Luc, it was important to Cher. She wants to make the perfect home for the Spaniard here, and Amélie wants to help her,” Claude explained. Funny, he didn‟t sound any weaker than had before. He was not in any way acting effeminate, but something told Diego that Luc was most definitely the one in charge. “I told you both until we find the person tried to attack Amélie, she was to only go to her mother‟s or Cher‟s. I was not kidding. We will discuss this later at home.” Wait, what the hell?! “Um, pardon me for interrupting,” that got Diego a glare from both men, but he was far too fascinated to pay any attention. “Someone tried to attack your, uh, Cherie‟s 104

mother? When exactly did your wife escape the asylum? Could you please start this sordid tale from the beginning so maybe I could follow?” Luc turned his attention to the young duke. He had to admit he was not unhappy Cher had become attached to such a man. It was easy to see Diego was very much in love. While Claude agreed Diego had to be informed of Agathe‟s disappearance, but he was very much against telling him about the unique relationship between himself, Amélie and Claude. Luc disagreed. Diego would perhaps claim to be scandalized, or at the very least shocked. But there was something about the young man. Even more, there was a chemistry between Diego, Cherie, and Étienne that would soon become too strong for him to ignore. Luc recognized the signs well even if Claude had missed it. “You‟re right, Luc conceded. “We have been remiss in telling you the exact nature of Claude‟s disturbed wife and her hatred of our daughter and our woman.” Our? Diego sat forward in his chair looking from one man to the other. They were a ménage? Diego thought back to Étienne‟s statement when they were on the ship once again. Ask Cher to tell you about her Oncle Luc. Damn, the little shit had known, but what was that to him? Did the puppy think he would be repulsed and give Cher up? His mind reeled. Sweet and gentle Amélie, in a long-time ménage relationship? The petite woman seemed so innocent, in a motherly kind of way. She was undoubtedly beautiful, yet nothing about her spoke of the wild passion that a ménage implied. But then, she was Cher‟s mother and Cher was nothing if not passionate. “I sincerely hope that smile has nothing to do with our Amélie,” Claude growled. 105

“Actually, I was thinking about your daughter.” As soon as he said it, Diego wanted to bite off his tongue. Dios, but it was easy to forget one‟s self in the face of all of this! Luc quickly cut his companion, (lover?), off before he could respond to Diego‟s slip of the tongue. “Let me explain to you how this began so that maybe you will understand Agathe‟s anger against us all.” Diego listened with rapt attention as Luc explained how Claude came to marry Agathe so that he could have Amélie, about how the unusual relationship began between the three, and finally how Agathe discovered the relationship and her reaction to it. While Diego could sympathize with Agathe‟s initial anger and shock, he had to agree the woman had let her bitterness eat at her until it gave way to something twisted. She had thought to use Cher, the only real innocent in the entire dirty little drama, as a weapon to strike at Claude and Amélie. Sitting back once more, Diego regarded the men in front of him. They did not need censure or chastisement. Besides, that was not his place. They obviously understood where they were guilty, Luc had not glossed over their casual disregard for the demented woman‟s feelings in their quest to have the lives they wanted to live. “Does anyone outside your family know all of the details of this? Anyone who would want to assist Agathe in her plots for revenge?” he asked them both. The first order of business had to be to find the threat, then neutralize it.

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“No one outside the family knows,” Claude absently rubbed at his throbbing skull. “Agathe would never admit her humiliation to anyone. Whenever we happened to be in the same place, she would cling to me as if all was perfect in our marriage. I never saw her except for those times. We introduced Cherie as Gaspar‟s granddaughter, not my daughter. There might have been speculation, but no woman in society wants to even acknowledge Plaçage system. They all pretend it doesn‟t exist.” “Étienne knows,” Diego informed him, his mind already working on the best way to track down one very disturbed woman bent on destruction. He didn‟t notice Claude‟s shock or Luc‟s secretive smile. “Perhaps you should keep „Tienne close,” Luc suggested with a sly smile. “For added protection, just until we find Agathe.”

*******

Cher watched with some enjoyment as Diego tried to pace a hole in the brand new carpet in the newly decorated front parlor. She doubted he even noticed, since he had been gone today, the room which had previously held only a medium sized sofa now contained two additional settees, three comfortably stuffed chairs, two lamps, and various knickknacks and artwork. The reason for her lover‟s agitation was twice as amusing as his preoccupation. Étienne was sprawled across one of the settees shooting her amused glances every so often. For reasons only known to Diego, Claude, and Luc, 107

Diego had agreed to let Étienne move in with them until Agathe was found. Now apparently he was having second thoughts. She sighed and approached Diego. “If you did not want to do it, why did you agree?” she asked softly, reaching up to stroke his clinched jaw. Diego looked down at the little woman who had managed to wiggle her cute little ass into his jaded heart and turn his life upside down. She was amused. He did not find any part of this situation humorous. “Your fathers insisted.” “Diego, no one can make you do what you do not want to do. Not even my fathers,” she said the word with twice as much sarcasm as he had. Cute. “Well aren‟t they?” he demanded. “This is not about my family!” Cher responded hotly. She knew that if Diego did not want Étienne here, he would just say it. Why was he being so damn difficult? “Isn‟t it?” Cher reared back as if slapped. “You would judge them, Diego?” Diego could have kicked himself as soon as he said it. Damn! He didn‟t really have any issues with Étienne staying here. That was the problem. Why the hell didn‟t he have a problem with it? Looking down into the stunning aquamarine eyes bright with unshed tears, he felt a wave of guilt. “Querida, I‟m sorry.” Pulling her into his arms, he bent to trail kisses across her face. 108

“I am just uptight.” “Well don‟t take it out on me,” she mumbled against his chest. Um, he smelled of sandalwood and spice. Deliciously male. Looking up, she tried her damnedest at a glare and failed miserably. “Next time I will not be so forgiving.” He let out a bark of laughter even as he swept her up to place her on her back on the sofa. “Te amo, mujer,” Diego whispered before covering her mouth with his own. As soon as his lips touched hers, she went up in flames. Moaning she arched her back seeking the comfort of his hard body against her softness. He complied immediately pressing his chest against her breasts, but it was not enough. She need to feel the heated smoothness of his skin sliding against her, she needed him to be inside her so deep she could not distinguish between the two of them. With all of the urgency she felt, Diego reached under her to undo the buttons of her gown, pushing it down her shoulders to her waist along with her shift without moving his mouth from her. Their tongues parried and thrust stimulating the act of love, heedless of the man watching from across the room. Tearing his lips away from the ambrosia that was her lips and tongue, Diego captured a painfully puckered nipple, lightly biting, then licking the small hurt. His hand wandered to her legs, making a slow trip up her body while pushing the yards of material up as he went. Thank God, she had decided against wearing hoops or a panier! She inhaled sharply when his blunt finger found her core, his strokes against her weeping pussy sending delectable waves throughout her body. 109

“Please Diego, take me.” With a growl, he moved back slightly to free his throbbing cock from his breeches. Dios, but this woman could drive him wild with nothing more than a moan! Watching how she licked her lips as his engorged penis came into view almost made him come on the spot. “Kiss him, bebé. Show him how much you want him.” Leaning forward she wrapped her lips around him without protest, swallowing him whole. “Mierda bebé, you‟re killing me!” Cher merely moaned around his rigid dick making him quiver from head to toe. “Sí, sweetheart. Just like that.” He allowed himself to savor just a few more strokes before pulling out of her greedy little mouth. Much more and he would spill his seed down her throat and he wanted every drop spent inside her. It wasn‟t until he had sunk every inch deep inside her wickedly snug pussy that remember they were not alone. Casting a quick glance to the other side of the room, his eyes met Étienne‟s. He should pull out immediately, bundle his woman up, and head for the privacy of their bedroom. Instead, he held the other man‟s gaze as he began to slowly move. Sliding back until he was almost completely dislodged, then driving forward until their pubic hairs mashed together, Diego flexed his muscles of his ass as he watched Étienne‟s nostrils flare. He repeated the motion, his eyes drifting down to the ever110

growing bulge Étienne did nothing to disguise. Licking his own lips, Diego increased his pace, thrusting and retreating as he watched the younger man free his own rigid cock and stroke in time with the movements of Diego‟s hips. He wanted to look away, but he was enthralled. Watching Étienne, feeling Cher‟s ever spasming pussy, was most erotic thing he had ever experienced. His hips began to move faster, going as deep as he could possibly get. It was so good; it felt so right. Diego wished he could feel disgust at what he was doing, about what Étienne was doing. He couldn‟t. He had crossed some invisible line of demarcation and he knew he could never go back. When he felt Cher release ripping through her body causing the walls of her cunt to tighten painfully down on him, he let go with a howl, witnessing Étienne‟s simultaneous release. Shit! What had he done? Not wanting to examine what had just happened, he scooped Cher up in his arms striding towards the door, intending to ignore the other man and what had just taken place between them. He almost dropped her when at the door she lifted her head, looked right at Étienne and said, “Join us in the bedroom after you clean up, „Tienne. There really is no point of you sleeping in one of the guest rooms now.”

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CHAPTER EIGHT

“Capitán? Capitán, you must wake up!” Diego opened one eye to see Carlos hovering over him like some mother hen. What the devil was he doing in his bedroom? As the memories of the previous night‟s activities flooded into his consciousness, he turned his head sharply to see Cher curled up against his side, and sure enough, the puppy was right beside her. No, he would not think about what had happened after leaving the parlor last. He would not acknowledge the other man in his bed, beside his woman. Was that Étienne‟s hand on his… Jumping out of the bed, he turned to Carlos heedless of his very naked state. “What is it?” he growled. To his credit, Carlos didn‟t even attempt to look towards the bed. In fact, he looked far too preoccupied and agitated, which was not a good sign. “Meet me in the front parlor,” Diego growled shrugging into a robe thrown across the end of the bed. Feeling a bit snug across the shoulders, he looked down at the garment. But of course, it was the puppy‟s! Pulling the thing off again, he glanced around the room summarily putting from his mind the clothing strewn about on the floors. Where the hell was his robe? 112

“Uh, mi Señor Duque, there are guests in the parlor,” Carlos stammered. “Guests?” It was practically the crack of dawn, who could possibly be paying a visit? His first thought was Claude, Luc, or some other member of Cher‟s irksome family. Perhaps there was word on the whereabouts of Agathe. Absently he waved his personal secretary away. “Fine, make sure they have refreshments and let them know I will be down soon.” Well he probably wouldn‟t be going back to bed now, he might as well dress for the day. “And find my valet. I am going to need a shave.” And a bath, but a quick wash would have to do for now. Noticing Carlos still had not moved he lifted and imperial brow. “Was there anything else Carlos?” “Err, you guests Señor.” “Yes?” This was getting tedious. “It is the governor and your wife.” ******* Diego was seething by the time he made his way to the parlor over an hour later. Let them wait, he fumed to himself. Dressing meticulous in full dress uniform complete with saber, he strode into the room every inch a royal duke and captain of the Spanish Armada, a fidgety Carlos at his side. He‟ll be damned if he would be cowed by a viscount and his overly pious spouse. Walking over to the fireplace mantle he faced the 113

tiny crowd arrayed before him arching an imperial brow as every one of the five, Governor de Gálvez, his beady eyed secretary, his wife Maria-Teresa, her duena Ana, and slightly frightening looking woman swathed in black from head to toe, remained seated at his entrance. “Carlos,” he drawled, “is there anyone in this room besides my dear wife who outranks me?” “No, Señor.” Three of the four promptly rose to there feet. Maria-Teresa remained seated and the mystery was already standing behind his wife. “Ah, much better.” Diego crossed his ankles while motioning for everyone to return to their seats. “To what do I owe the honor of just an early morning house call?” He had looked directly at the governor while speaking. The impertinence of the man intruding on his private residence at this hour was astounding. One would think after their little test of wills yesterday, de Gálvez would be far more prudent. At least the man‟s secretary had the common sense to look frightened. The governor looked…triumphant. Well that just would not do at all. “I did not think there was an appropriate time to seek out my husband,” MariaTeresa spoke for the group in her soft-spoken manner. One had to literally strain to hear her. “Since you would not come home to Spain, I came here to you.”

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As if that explained everything! Turning to face her, Diego had to fight to stay on his best behavior. His dear wife had no great desire to see him anymore than he had to see her. “And how is your father, my dear?” She had the grace to blush and looked down at her hands firmly clasped together in her lap. He could have sworn her ever present duena cracked a faint smile. But that would be impossible. Surely if she did so, her face would shatter in a thousand little pieces. “Señor,” de Gálvez began, only to be cut off by Diego at his most haughty. “You may call me Señor Duque, Vizconde. Or do you prefer Governor?” The governor quickly looked to Maria-Teresa, but finding no support there, he quickly switched tactics. “Excuse me, I meant no disrespect.” Diego inclined his head and waved for the governor to continue. “I would never dream to interfere with your personal affairs, but on this matter, I felt I have no choice but to step in.” In any other situation, Diego might have been impressed by the man‟s bravado. At the current time, however, he was in no mood to be charitable. With Cher and the puppy upstairs, some maniac woman looking to do God knows what to his lover and mother of his unborn child, and now his beloved wife in town, (no doubt at the behest of the king), he had enough on his plate. Impatiently he drummed his fingers against 115

the mantle, the only visible sign of emotion he would allow. The governor swallowed harshly plowed straight ahead. “Your lovely wife and Madame Bonnet here brought to my attention you have been living openly with a disreputable woman. While I must admit I have no authority to generally get involved with my subjects personal affairs, Señora Maria-Teresa and Madame Bonnet…” Before any of them was aware of what happened, the sword that had previously hung on Diego‟s hip pressed against the governor‟s Adam‟s apple. A visible tick showed prominently on Diego‟s jaw as he had to fight to control the urge to slice the pompous idiot‟s throat from ear to ear. “First de Gálvez, you allowed my wife to be influenced by a woman has just escaped from a mental asylum, then you invade my home insult me and insult my rank,” Diego‟s voice was barely above a whisper, but fury emanated clearly from every word. “Nothing concerning my life is of any consequence to you ever. You may think you have the king‟s ear, but I can guarantee you, by the time the pieces of your body that make it back to Spain, would hardly be worth his time or notice. I promise you if you ever place your nose into my business, darken my doorstep, or even think about sullying my wife‟s ears with the sound or your voice I might have to feed to creatures of the swamp, then have your families‟ lands and titles confiscated by the crown and have your sons impressed upon my ship. ¿Usted entiende?”

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To emphasize his point, Diego nicked the governor‟s throat just enough to cause a small trickle of blood to trickle down. The governor stumbled to his feet and practically ran out of the room with his secretary, howling with laughter (trying to hide a suspicious wet spot on his breeches, right on his heels. Crossing to a chair directly in front of Maria-Teresa, Diego sat heavily, and regarded his wife. She sat as serene as ever, as if nothing that had just happened affected her in any way. But of course it hadn‟t. Maria was rarely affected by anything outside the spiritual. How in the hell did she get involved with Agathe? Come to think of it, where the hell was Agathe? “Carlos, did you see where the other woman went?” “I am sorry Señor, she must have left after you started, uh, talking to the governor. Do you want me to see if I can find her?” Diego sighed wearily. “No. I do want you want you to go find several members of my crew. I will give you a list. For now, escort Ana to the kitchens. I am sure she could use something heartier than coffee, tea, and petite fours.” Ana shot him a grateful look, but waited for permission from her mistress before moving a muscle. When none seemed to be forthcoming from the tight-lipped Maria, Diego prodded. “Maria, I will speak with you alone. Give Ana leave to go.” “You should not refer to Ana so familiarly,” Maria-Teresa sniffed. Diego might be her husband, but she had no desire to be alone in a room with him. “You may go Ana, but be back here in fifteen minutes.” 117

“Make that thirty.” Ana bowed to Diego before a hasty curtsy in the general direction of her mistress. At forty years old and a poor relation, Ana would always be a spinster, but she was not really cut out to be a duena. There had been no other choices for her, so she did her duty to the best of her abilities, but she was not the best choice for the Princesa. She did not relish the hours upon hours spent in prayer and confession, nor the endless amounts of fasting her mistress opposed upon all of her household. She frankly could not imagine what Maria-Teresa had to confess. The woman rarely left the chapel or the company of her personal priest. It had gotten increasingly worse when Diego had left Spain. MariaTeresa had become almost fanatical; she was in chapel before sunrise staying until midmorning, she was often on a diet of bread and water, (demanding Ana do the same), she was never without her priest, Father Manuel, by her side whom she lavished with gold and expensive gifts. She raved how it was her purpose in life to show her husband the errors of his ways. She believed she and she alone could save him and bring “back to the fold with God”. She would sometimes rant for hours about how the duke was a carnal creature in mortal peril of loosing his immortal soul to wine and women. Odd, while in Spain, Ana never witness the duke drunk or whoring. Maria-Teresa believed he was being led astray by what she called “demonic native seductresses” and “African witches”, which was why he had failed to return to Spain. She had convinced her father to send her to New Spain to bring her husband home for sake of his own soul. The king, being far 118

more practical than his daughter, simply wanted an heir for the duchy, so he had agreed. Ana had serious doubts as to the piety of Father Manuel. The priest was rarely in chapel during the predawn hours, though he encouraged his patroness to be there. He disappeared for hours, sometimes days at time, always insinuating he needed more money when he returned. The household maids steered clear of the man, an ominous sign in itself. She wanted desperately to tell the duke all she all this and more, but her mistress never let her out of her sight. As she followed Carlos out of the room, she tried to catch the duke‟s eye, to give him some kind of signal. Maria-Teresa was getting worse, especially after the inexplicable appearance of the strange woman named Agathe. Ana feared for her mistresses sanity, if the people around her kept adding fuel to the unnatural fire burning in her brain. “My things should be here shortly. If the African woman is here, you must make her leave immediately. I will need at least three maids and some sort of social secretary so that…” “Maria, how long have we been married?” His voice was dangerously quiet. Maria hated when used that tone. It frightened her. “Seven years,” she answered nervously. “And during those seven years I have allowed you to dictate to me when?”

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He still had not raised the tone of his voice, but it seemed to have gotten colder. She pulled her rosary from the folds of her gown and silently began to pray. She had to be strong. Dear Agathe had warned her that the voodoo priestesses here seduced decent man were strong; she would have to be stronger. She decided to attack the problem head on. Diego was far too stubborn for anything else. “Diego, I know you cannot see it now,” she began earnestly, “but this woman, this African, she has some kind of spell on you. I am here to help you. You must send her away, for the sake of your soul!” Diego regarded the woman that was his wife, noticing the first time how gaunt and wan she looked. She ran through the rosary in her hands at a speed not seen from priests. Her formerly luxurious jet-black hair was scraped into a painfully tight bun and looked to be thinning. She was dressed in a dark gray gown that began at the top of her neck and fallen to her feet. Her sleeves ran down slightly over her wrists and her hands covered with gloves. Not an inch of flesh was visible. On closer inspection, her gown appeared to be made of coarse linen. Maria had always been deeply religious; she was fast becoming a fanatic. “Is that why you are here Maria? To save my soul? This is what your father sent you halfway around the world for?” Maria‟s gaze slid from her husband to the floor. She could not lie. “No. My father wants an heir.”

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“And you, the ever faithful daughter must obey him, sí?” He rose in one fluid motion to circle the sofa in which she sat. Leaning down to whisper against her ear, he continued his assault. “You do remember what it takes to get with child, don‟t you, Maria? You remember how I must lift up your nightdress, spread your legs wide and slip my…” “Stop!” Maria jumped to her feet whirling to face her know smirking husband. “I refuse to listen to such filth! I am a princess of Spain and you will do as I say!” She was yelling, crass as that was, but she didn‟t…she couldn‟t take it! The thought of him, of any man touching her flesh, made her physically ill. She had thought she could endure it, but she knew she couldn‟t. She most certainly couldn‟t with this man. He was far too, too virile. “And I, my dear, am your husband. You do not command me to do a damn thing!” He had not raised his voice above a normal octave, but then he didn‟t have to. “I want you to understand what it is you are asking for.” “I am trying to help you! You must send that, that person away! Now!” “So that you can take her place in my bed? Will you let me bury my face between you legs to suckle your woman‟s honey? Will you let me bend you over my desk or a chair and take you from behind, riding you until we both scream from the sheer joy of it?” “You will be silent! Shut up now!” “Yes, Diego,” came a soft voice from the doorway. “Why don‟t you shut up now?” 121

“Cher!” Diego rushed out of the parlor, leaving a confused Maria-Teresa standing alone with what appeared to be a young gentleman. One was never sure here who was a regular person and who was descended from slaves. Agathe had warned her of that. The man bowed appropriately but did not introduce himself, as was proper. She was a woman alone, it was not proper to talk to her without a proper introduction from someone she knew and trusted. She did not, however, appreciate the amused look on his face. He was not smiling, but his eyes implied inappropriate mirth. She decided she would use her royal imperative to put him in his place. “Who are you and what are you doing in my husband‟s house?” “Your husband‟s house?” the young man replied rudely. ”I am sorry, but this house belongs to Cherie Bonnet. And I, Your Highness, am Étienne Barbin, first and only son of Rémi Barbin, Vicomte de Alsace.” Maria dismissed the notion that this was that woman‟s house. Of course, this was Diego‟s home. “You are impertinent. What are you doing here?” “I am a friend of your husband,” Étienne replied undaunted. “Well, go and fetch him.” Seeing that she had dismissed him with her decree, Étienne walked away in amusement. Poor Diego.

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He found the man standing in front of the closed door of a guest bedroom looking lost. “Your wife has demanded I come and fetch you.” Diego growled in reply. “Let me talk to Cher. You go, deal with your wife. We will talk later.” Shit! That was the last thing Diego wanted to do, talk or deal with his wife. There was no way out of it. “Do not let her leave this house alone, Tienne. Agathe was in this house” He was gone before the other man could question him. On his way back to the parlor, he noticed workmen bringing in several traveling trunks and crates. “No, no, no! Take these things right back to the wagons!” he bellowed striding to what appeared to be the man in charge. “Diego what are you doing?” Maria-Teresa rushed out of the parlor. “These are my things! I will need them until we return to Spain.” Merciful Heavens, take me now! Diego pinched the bridge of his nose trying valiantly to contain the rage threatening to erupt. Turning to his wife, he spoke slowly and deliberately through clinched teeth. “You will not be staying here. This house belongs to…someone else. If you must stay, you can stay at my plantation about fifteen miles up river. When I have calmed down, I might come and deal with you then. I will provide you with all you need, but you need to leave now.”

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Turning from her, he bellowed for Carlos, and as the man came running with Ana in tow, he was hit by a sudden inspiration. “Carlos, you need to go find the duchess…” “I am a princess!” “You stopped being a princess and began being a duchess the day you married me. You are not your father‟s heir; any child of your body would not be your father‟s heir. You are my property under the laws of Spain and the laws of the church and you will do what I say. You will go to the plantation and you will wait. Carlos will acquire a couple of holy sisters to keep you company, Ana will stay here, and before you open you mouth to protest, I must warn you, my dear, I am fast losing patience and would not encourage you to push me too far.” Maria swallowed, but said nothing. Turning on her heel, she returned to the parlor, head held high. Carlos ran out the door, just happy to be given a task away from this madhouse. Ana fell to his feet in tears. “Thank you, thank you, senor! Thank you so much! I do not know how much more I could take!” Considering the woman weeping at his feet, he suddenly felt completely out of his depth. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

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CHAPTER NINE

“How dare he bring that woman into this house!” Cher ranted. “He didn‟t bring her here.” “I don‟t care who brought her, „Tienne, I do not want her in my house!” 125

Étienne enclosed her in his arms holding her tight, drawing her into his lap as he sat down. God, how he loved this woman in all her fury! For a moment, when he first found out where she was in Florida, he had despaired he had lost her forever. But when he had entered Diego‟s study and the man had made love to her while he watched, something strange had happened. He still wanted Cher so badly it hurt, but his dreams had an added player. His father‟s plantation borded Bellemere, so he had known Cher‟s parents, all three of them, most of his life. His mother died in childbirth and his father never remarried, so Cher‟s mother had become a surrogate mother to him. His father had known about the ménage at Bellemere but being that he had a predilection towards men versus women, he had not cared. Growing up with a father with a secret such as homosexuality had taught Étienne not to judge. It also made it easier to spot alternative lifestyles. He himself had never felt attracted to another man until Diego. He still had no interest in any other man. It was as if being with Diego was an extension of being with Cher. He couldn‟t explain, it he just knew it felt right. Of course, he was now going to have to convince Diego he had to marry Cher, for her sake and the sake of whatever children the three of them might have. Thinking back to last night, Étienne shivered. He had known Diego was just as attracted to him but he also understood that such a thing was unthinkable to such a dominate man as Diego. It had been Cher‟s soft invitation to their bed that had broken Diego‟s guard. At first, both men had focused their attention on her. Étienne had dove between her legs to feast on the banquet denied him for so long. She tasted better than 126

his wettest dreams had led him to believe. Her natural scent was light and flowery with just a hint of musk. She was so delightfully responsive, flying apart on Diego‟s demand as the older man had watched Étienne lick, suck, and nibble as if she was his last meal. When Diego had instructed him to take her while kneeling behind him, kneading his shoulders and nipping his ear, he became harder than he had ever been in his life. He had sunk into Cher‟s waiting warmth in one powerful stroke, as Diego whispered the nastiest encouragements Étienne had ever heard in his life. The feel of Diego‟s hard cock against his backside as he powered in and out of the snuggest, sweetest pussy he had ever experienced in his life, drove him crazy with yearning for more of Cher and more of Diego. Then he had felt Diego‟s hand moving down his ribcage to his hips to settle on each cheek. He felt something cool and wet spread inside his crack until finally it reached his puckered rosette. He had gone wild; he couldn‟t stop powering into the woman beneath him, especially when he felt fingers penetrating him, spreading cool cream until he was well lubricated. Étienne had cried out at the sudden loss of those deliciously wicked fingers; then all of the sudden something alarmingly large, hard, and smooth quested entrance. Diego had entered slowly, instructing him not to stop driving into Cher. Finally, Diego was fully seated inside him causing so many sensations he felt he would die from the intense pleasure attacking every nerve ending. It had been so hard not come right then. But Diego had warned both him and Cher not to come until he said so. A sweeter torture had never been invented! They had all moved in tandem, their tempo set by the 127

domineering Diego, who played them all as if their bodies were instruments, played by a maestro. Even now, the symphony they had created made Ètienne shiver. “Am I being unreasonable?” Cher asked, her voiced muffled against his chest. “Yes.” Cher smiled at his simple answer. „Tienne was nothing if not honest. When she had first talked with him after he had found her in Florida, she had explained she could not marry him feeling as she felt for Diego. She had begged him to go on with his life and try to forget her, but in typical „Tienne fashion, he had told her he would never give her up. He had even said if that meant sharing her, then he would because he loved her. When he begun to have feelings for Diego himself, he had told her without delay. But that was her „Tienne, the one person in the world who never tried to shield her from things he felt was too much for her to handle. “Will he leave me you think?” she couldn‟t stop herself from asking. Étienne gently moved her back a little so he look down into her eyes. “No, Cherie, he will not leave us.” His sky blue eyes told her more than she had asked. Whatever happened to her, she would never be alone. Yet, he really did have complete faith in Diego. Cher buried her hands into his silky auburn curls, tugging his head down to meet her lips. He always kissed her so softly, as if she was precious, and should be cherished. Whereas Diego made her burn, Étienne soothed her like balm to her soul. Before last night, it had

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been with words, or a soft touch here and there. There could be no going back now; like her mother before her, Cher was now the center of a committed ménage. ******* Though he would have rather died before admitting it, Diego was in need of advice. Before he knew it, he wound up at the front door of the Bonnet townhouse in the French Quarter, (though a Spaniard, he supposed he should call it the Spanish Quarter as so many of his countrymen who lived here did). Sighing in defeat, he knocked lackadaisically, jumping back at the speed to which the door was opened. The imposing figure that stood as regal as any king made him take a step back. Diego himself was at least six feet four inches tall. This man was a full head taller than he was. His skin was a deep bronze like some kind of Arab sheik who spent all his time in the sun. That in itself would be normal, for New Orleans anyway. What threw one off was the fact that the man's eyes, so light blue they were almost colorless, and the cascade of straight startling white hair fell past his shoulders to the middle of his back. “My Lord Duke,” the man intoned in the deepest voice Diego had ever heard, and in clipped British accent. “Please come in and follow me.” The man executed a perfect military pivot and led him into the house. “May I presume you are here to see Monsieur Bonnet?” “Well, no actually,” Diego began only to be brought up short when the man stopped in his tracks to fix him with a glare that actually had him shivering. The infamous Capitán Diego Esteban de Aguilar, Duque de Suárez, wary of a…what the hell 129

was this man anyway? “I am here to see Monsieur...Err, Luc.” He had not realized until that moment he had no idea what Luc‟s surname was. Everyone simply called the man Luc. The bronze man seemed satisfied with that answer. At least Diego thought he must be, because he simply repeated his military pivot and moved on to a door near the rear of the house. The door opened to a typical masculine study complete with overstuffed leather armchairs, large fireplace, several bookshelves strategically placed around the room. Instead of one desk however, there were two. The bronze man waved towards on of the chair near the fireplace. “Please be seated. I will return with Monsieur shortly.” And with that, he was gone. Diego didn‟t have time to question the wisdom of making this trip. Not more than a few minutes after bronze man disappeared, Luc appeared. “Diego,” Luc swept into the room shaking his hand wearing a decidedly irritating smirk. “While I did expect you, I must say I did not expect you so soon.” Diego decided to ignore that one. “Was that your butler?” Luc glanced toward the door. “You mean Farnsworth? He is whatever he chooses to be.” Farnsworth, the mixed race British butler? No, that was just too comically stereotypical. “Is he a slave?” Couldn‟t be. The man was a sultan masquerading as a servant to spy on the European colonies, or a Native chief/king whose trip was 130

tragically massacred by the British, which explained the accent. Yes, Diego liked his imaginary scenario much better than anything Luc could tell him. “We actually don‟t own slaves,” Luc informed him pouring two glasses brandy. “All the servants here are paid. Most of the people on the plantation are sharecroppers or paid servants. Farnsworth showed up one day and informed us we were now privileged to employ his services. Amélie was amused so Farnsworth stayed. So,” Luc handed him a brandy, “is it Cher, or is it „Tienne?” Of course, the cheeky bastard knew. He had known from the first day at Gaspar‟s. “Agathe was in our home this morning.” Luc‟s hand stilled in the act of raising his glass. “And you didn‟t detain her why?” “She was gone before I knew who she was.” Taking a deep breath, Diego filled him in on everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, (edited of course). By the time he finished, Luc was sprawled in the chair opposite him, a deep frown marring his face. “Somehow Agathe got to the governor, or more likely the governor‟s wife. She is a criollo, non? From what I hear, quite prudish. She would be scandalized enough to insert herself in your personal affairs.” “Possibly, but now I have a wife and two lovers to content with. A man can only take so much!”

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Luc studied Diego intently. He was taking his attraction to Étienne fairly well, far better than Claude had taken it. Claude had fought him and their mutual attraction for months, fearing that to admit it he would lose some part of his masculinity. Diego had no such qualms. But then, he had Cher. She had grown up witnessing a loving permanent ménage relationship. By her complete acceptance, she probably made it seem normal and natural for Diego, making it an easier transition for him. Still, there had to be lingering doubts. “And this thing between you and „Tienne? How are you feeling about that?” “I haven‟t really given it much thought. It just is.” In truth, Diego hadn‟t wanted to dwell on it. How did he feel? He knew he should feel disgust or confusion, but he didn‟t. Last night he had made love to another man as if it was the most natural thing in the world. All three of them had touched, kissed, caressed, and made love to one another and nothing had ever felt so right; he had never felt so complete. If he had believed Cher completed him, the addition of Étienne had made him more of a man than before. Cher had held him afterwards, even as „Tienne held her. She had whispered she was so happy, that the three of them would be happy together. He had believed it because he believed in her. “I could be content with the situation. But there is my wife I have to deal with. She has become fanatical in her devotion to the church. Whatever Agathe is telling her, it is making it worse. She actually believed herself to be saving me from some demonic seductress.” 132

“Well, at least we know where Agathe is likely hiding,” Luc mused. “And who is giving her shelter.” “But what can we do about it? If she is with the governor‟s household, she is well protected. With the addition of my wife, the king‟s daughter, I am somewhat neutralized, and I am the only one who outranks the governor.” “Are you?” Luc mused. Diego glanced up sharply but the older man was in his own little world. He was loath to interrupt his private deliberating. “Let me deal with the governor,” Luc said standing. “You go home and deal with Cher. After this morning, I imagine she will be in quite the snit, non?” ******* Agathe watched and waited hidden in the bushes where she had been watching house for a while. The little putain was just like her mother. She must be stopped from corrupting decent men with her voodoo and her foreign wiles. She now had the help of the governor and his wife. She couldn‟t save Claude, but she could save the duke. Smiling with satisfaction, she eased out of her hiding place and made her way back to the governor‟s home. She would visit Princesa Maria-Teresa soon. The woman needed to take her husband in hand and soon. Étienne was a hopeless case. She had not realized he came from tainted stock. Soon the putain breed would be gone and Étienne could find his own way. She was concentrating so deeply on her plans she never noticed the man following her. 133

CHAPTER TEN

Diego gritted his teeth as he reread the fifth missive this week from his wife demanding he attend her. He had written her back after the first one, explaining he would not be able to get away for the foreseeable future. Apparently, Maria-Teresa had lost the ability to read. There was no way he could leave New Orleans now even if he wanted to. Étienne had to travel to see his father on the family plantation after some kind accident. Cher could not be left alone, especially since the governor‟s wife had taken up Agathe‟s crusade to save the men of the New Spain from femmes libres de couleur. All kinds of ridiculous laws passed with the aim of restricting interactions between the races. The famed octoroon balls, where wealthy planters often went select quadroon and octoroon mistresses, were illegal. The governor had soldiers patrolling popular venues were the balls had been held. The Creole elite had simply moved them to plantations owned by gens de couleur, for a healthy price, of course. What irritated Diego the most were the laws that directly affected those free people of color, who were not in any way involved with the balls or anything else dealing with the French and Spanish Creoles affairs de coure. Businessmen and women 134

were often affected financially by decrees barring them from interacting in public with whites in any way. And for what? Things would go on the way they always had. After over hundred years of colonies, there still a serious lack of white women. Though many had tried throughout history, there was just no way you could force abstinence on an unwilling population. “Just go and see what she wants.” Diego shook of his ruminations at Cher‟s entrance. Holding out his hand for her, he marveled at the way she seemed to glide towards him, despite her now obvious state of pregnancy. She wore her growing belly with innate grace, glowing with some mysterious inner beauty more and more with each passing day. He must admit he found her even more desirable with her rounding belly and spreading hips. He was seriously contemplating keeping her pregnant for the foreseeable future. If he wasn‟t positive she would probably cause serious injury to his person, he would actually put his thoughts into action. “How do you feel querida?” he murmured as she snuggled in his lap. “Don‟t change the subject,” Cher pouted, loving the way he lavished affection on her. He and Étienne were ever solicitous, sometimes too much so. “Papa and Maman will be here soon and if you go now you can be back tonight. Go; see what she wants. She is your wife, Diego. It is your duty, non?” He wanted to say he had done his duty when he married her, tried to do his duty by getting a heir for two years before it drove him to put oceans between them. He had 135

tried. It was not Maria-Teresa‟s fault she was not cut out to be a wife, but it was not his either. They had married according to the dictates of their stations. Such marriages rarely resulted in great love or passion, but he had hoped for a least mutual respect and friendship. When it became apparent that was not to be he had simply left. He could not be the man Maria-Teresa wanted him to be. “I cannot leave you Cher.” “You can and will. Whatever it is the princess wants, you will do your best to oblige. She is your wife, Diego. I am just your…” “You are the love of my life,” he replied fiercely, tilting her head up by her chin. “Nothing less, querida. Never less.” ******* Agathe cackled in absolute glee as she witnessed Diego riding out. Finally! She had told Maria-Teresa to keep up the pressure, and sooner or later her wayward husband would come running. Fairly skipping down the street to the waiting hired carriage, she went over her brilliant plan in her head done last time. By now, the men she had hired would have shot Gaspar as he was leaving his home to run to his daughter‟s assistance. Of course, the whore Amélie was not in need of any assistance. She had one the governor‟s houseboys deliver the old man an “urgent” message from his bastard, saying that something had happened to Claude. She also arranged to have several “witnesses” swear that a deranged Cherie Bonnet had shot her own

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grandfather because he would not sanction a marriage between herself and Étienne due to her recent scandalous behavior. Because no one outside their little family cult of sin knew of the relationship between Cherie, Diego, and Étienne it would be easy to plant the seed of a wicked breed who seduced one man, got with child, and try to pawn her bastard off on another. After all, how many of her mother‟s bastards carry the name Bonnet but where sired by Luc, who as far as Agathe knew, had no surname? There was a messenger who should be at this moment informing Claude and his whore what happened to Gaspar. They would, of course, hurry to his side without delay. That left Cherie all alone. Having the hired hack park a few houses down from Gaspar‟s, Agathe waited until she saw a frantic Amélie running into the house, Claude and Luc trailing behind her before she instructed the driver to take her to the governor‟s house with all haste. Trembling with anticipation, she couldn‟t hold the crows of glee that escaped her lips. This time there would be no knight in shining armor for her husband‟s bastard. With the governor‟s blessing, Cherie Bonnet, the breed bitch, would be dead in a week. It took less than hour before the soldiers arrived at the door. Agathe watched with the governor‟s wife, safely ensconced in a carriage across the street, while they dragged a visibly shaken and very pregnant Cherie out of the house into a prisoner‟s carriage. Carlos Hernandez was yelling behind them trying desperately to get the soldiers to let the girl go. Oh, it was just too delightful. The girl was perceptibly frightened with tears running unchecked down her face. Later, Agathe would allow 137

herself a good laugh. For now, she sat stoically beside the uptight bitch who was the instrument of her revenge. “Hernandez will have to be dealt with,” Agathe hoped she sounded regretful. It was so hard when she was so very happy. “He will attempt to run to his master.” “Madame Bonnet, we are no thugs. This is about justice. There is nothing the duke can do with so many witnesses against her.” Señora de Gálvez sniffed disdainfully. “The girl must have been quite mad to shoot her own grandfather.” Agathe gritted her teeth at that one. If Gaspar Durand had been more of a father to her, maybe none of this would be necessary! Placée were meant to be kept a secret, away from decent women. They were not supposed to usurp the rightful place of wives and daughters. Carlos watched helplessly as the soldiers left with Mademoiselle Cherie. He knew the he had to get to the duke! He knew he watched. He had to get help. Instead of heading out of town, straight into whatever trap that waited him, he headed towards the seedy bars by the docks. The duke never went anywhere without suitable backup. Carlos had a feeling he would was going to need all the help he could get. ******** “Señor Duque, I am so glad you are here,” Sister Asrid rushed to hustle Diego into a small parlor near the front entrance. “Sister Margaux and I have been most concerned.”

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Diego followed the nun without protest. He noticed she chose a room with a clear view of the staircase and the door. There was only one way into the room. They would not be disturbed without clear warning. “Please Sister, tell me what troubles you.” Sister Astrid cast a worried glance to the staircase, working the rosary in her hands in an agitated manner. The Sister was a petite older woman, probably entering her sixties, but her eyes were sharp. Diego doubted she missed much. “Father Manuel is not a man of God,” she said in little more than a whisper. “He is using the duchess for monetary gain.” Diego sighed. Was that it? He had never met the man, and he was well aware of the so-called priests many, many sins. He had received missives from the overseer of the way the man made free use of any slave or free servant under the age of eighteen. Diego was obliged to have any and all young females removed immediately, sending them to any of his other properties if that was their wish, or setting them free with a stipend and free passage to Canada, France, or anywhere else they wanted to go. The last he heard, the priest traveled to Storyville three to four times a week, which was just as well. “I am aware of the father‟s peccadilloes,” Diego ensured her. “Yes, well, were that all, I too, would be satisfied to just inform you and move on. I have been a nun for many years, sins of the flesh, even when committed by men of God do not phase me.” 139

Of course not, Diego thought. This was the Crescent City. “No,” the Sister went on. “What he is doing is dangerous. Your wife really should have never been given in marriage, if you beg my pardon.” Didn‟t he know it? The nun went on. “La duchesse is so very fragile, señor. He uses this, encouraging her in her growing fanaticism. He tells her that your placée is a demoness bent on collecting your soul for Satan. He brought the evil woman, Agathe, here. Together they convince her that if you lose your soul, then she too, is in mortal danger as your wife. She is close to the edge of her sanity; they are determined to push her over. As it stands right now, she cannot be in normal society. She sees demons and agents of Satan everywhere. She fasts too much to be healthy and is on her knees so much they are raw. Devotion to the Lord is a beautiful thing, but la duchesse, she uses this to avoid all other aspects of life. I just wanted you to know I have contacted the Mother Superior and she had ensured me she is sending word to the Bishop. Your wife needs a nice quiet convent, where the Sisters can care for her around the clock and she would not be victims for men like that Father Manuel.” Diego wished he could be shocked, or even sad. The fact was Sister Astrid was not telling him anything he did not already suspect. He had hoped Maria-Teresa would get tired of waiting for him to attend her out here so far away from everything. He had been wrong. If she thought her immortal soul was irrevocably tied his, she would never give up trying to “save” him. She had to go back home. 140

“Thank you, Sister Astrid,” Diego stood kissing the elder nun on the cheek. “I will get rid of Father Manuel and I will do what I have to in order to get my wife to return home to Spain.” “I do not think she will go easily.” Neither did he. He knew what he must do. Nothing horrified Maria-Teresa more than being the subject of his sexual attentions. All he had to do was to convince her he had decided to stay with her, but he expected her to act like a wife in all ways. After all, he did need a son; the king had decreed it. He only hoped he would not bring down the wrath of the king while making his point to his wife. “No, it will not be easy, Sister. I ask that you please stay. I think she will need you.” Sister Astrid nodded in understanding. “You will find your wife awaiting you in the upstairs parlor.” “And Father Manuel?” “I believe the doctor has gone into town today. It had been a few days since his last trip.” Diego nodded as he escorted the Sister to the door. “Thank you again, Sister. I appreciate you coming to me with your concerns.” It was not surprising to find Maria-Teresa on her knees in a stark room with only a huge wooden cross adorning the walls, hard wooden bench with no pillows to soften

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the seat, a simple desk, and a hard back wooden chair. It was every bit as austere as she in her shapeless black gown and her ever thinning hair in a tight bun. Her head was bent, her arms were stretched toward the ceiling, though her right hand worked her rosary without pause. He watched her for a few minutes, trying to remember if there had ever been a time in his marriage were they had just gotten along, accepting one another for who they were. He couldn‟t think of one. It was sad really; two dramatically different people needs that conflicted in almost everyway should have never been given to one another in marriage. “Diego!” Maria gasped, when she finally noticed him. “I did not think you would come.” “Well, here I am. What was so urgent, Maria?” When she scrambled to her feet Diego‟s heart leapt in his chest. She had lost so much weight she was little more than skin and bone. She was noticeably weak, though when he reached down to try to help her to her feet she scurried away as if burned by his touch. Guilt weighed down his shoulders like boulders. Had he brought her to this? Had he asked too much of a gently bred princess, more than she could bear? Maybe if he had wooed her, if he had spent more time trying to find what she might have found arousing, things would be different. But Maria had not wanted to marry, not him not anyone. She obeyed her father‟s dictate because there was nothing else to do. There was nowhere else for her to go. No convent in the world would take her against the will of the King of Spain, cousin to the 142

King of France, father of the King of Two Sicilies, father-in-law to the Holy Roman Emperor, cousin to the Pope. Maria was trapped in life to be what others wanted to be. “Diego, you must…” “Señor ! Señor ! You must come quickly!” A mulatto boy no more than seven or eight wearing little more than rags ran into the room following much more slowly by a winded Sister Astrid, huffing apologies for having disturbed the couple. “Señor! Monsieur Gaspar has been shot and the soldiers have arrested Mademoiselle Cherie!” “Get out of here you little devil!” Maria-Teresa screamed flying towards the boy. Diego had to move quickly to intercept her before she harmed the boy. He was surprised by the strength in such an emancipated woman. “He is a demon seed! Diego you must see that. All of these people here, they are trying to steal our souls! Let the puta hang! It is the only way for you to be free!” Diego felt an ice-cold fist grip his heart. What had she done? “Let who hang Maria?” His words were slow and concise, afraid to unleash any of the emotions simmering right beneath the surface. “Your demon puta! Agathe told me she would arrange for her arrest, and hanged to help me free your soul, to free our souls. Don‟t you see? It‟s the only way! She must die so that our immortal souls will live on to be with God.”

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He couldn‟t look at her. He had to physically take a step away from her. He was afraid he might wrap his hands around her boney neck and squeeze until he felt it snap in two. “She has done nothing deserving of death, Maria. To kill is a mortal sin. Helping facilitate the murder of an innocent makes you just as guilty as the one that commits the murder.” It was so very hard to speak calmly. He wanted to roar in fear and fury. This woman was every bit as insane as Agathe, probably more so. This was no act of revenge, as was the case with Agathe. This crazed woman actually believed everything that came from her mouth. “She endangered our souls! She is not even human! You cannot murder a creature from the pit! It is our duty to destroy them.” Diego was holding on by a very thin thread. He had to tread carefully, but Maria had to be dealt with now. “So, Maria,” he said slowly, carefully, “this means you are ready to be a wife to me, sí?” “Have I not said so?” “And you will welcome me in your bed? Every night?” “Well, I…I…Surely that would not be…”

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“Necessary? But of course! You are my wife. I had thought to spare you from my intentions, but now there is no other way. You are right. I should cleave to you. I think we should share a room in fact.” “Share? A room? Diego, we must concentrate on the spiritual…” “Are we not tasked to be fruitful and multiply? There was only one way to do that.” He was right in front of her now. He started caressing her face, then moved down to her shoulders. She tried to move away, but he held her still. “We were ordered by the king to produce a child.” He leaned down to trail kisses across her forehead, then her cheek. He had to fight to keep his roiling stomach down. “We might have to try several times a day-“ “NO!” Maria screamed breaking away from his hold. “No! No! No! Don‟t touch me!” Reaching out to grasp her chin in a none too gentle hold, he let every bit of his rage show on his face. Through clenched teeth, he addressed his wife, “You will stay out of my personal life. You will stay the hell away from me for the rest of your natural life, because I cannot promise you I will not kill you if I have to be burdened with your presence ever again.” Bellowing for the overseer, he instructed that Maria-Teresa be locked in a windowless room until passage to Spain found. Taking the boy, who had been sent by Carlos, Diego rode like the wind to find his love.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cher shivered in the dank cell she had been thrown into. They had stripped her of her gown, leaving only her shift to protect against the draft. She didn‟t know long se had been in this cell, only that hadn‟t yet been a day. This was some kind of holding cell. From what she could make out by hushed conversations of three officers across the room, they would soon move her to the general population. Two of the three were wary of taking her in the first place. They were afraid of someone she was attached to. Diego? She didn‟t know, they did not use names. The ranking officer was more worried about 146

his career if he defied the governor. The other two cast furtive glances in her direction but finally gave up the argument. Oh, God what was going to become of her? “Mademoiselle, Bonnet? Please follow me.” One of the junior officers escorted her out of the holding cell through an iron door. The cells were quite a bit larger here, filled with unwashed humanity in every shade. They passed the men‟s holding cells first. Dozens of faces pressed against the bars shouting obscenities and reaching out to grab at her. Her young officer escort had to bang against the bars with a metal bar to keep the longer arms at bay. Several times a strange substance was thrown in her general direction. Was that semen? Her knees buckled. If it weren‟t for the quick reaction of her escort, she would have fallen face first in the splatter one of the prisoners had thrown in front of her. “Try not to despair Mademoiselle,” he whispered against her ear. “I have one more hour on duty, then I will tell le Capet myself of this injustice. He will free you, never fear.” Le Capet? “I don‟t know…” “Mademoiselle please do not speak. Not to me. Not to anyone. Say nothing so that there will be no further witnesses against you.” But what had she done to have witnesses against her now? “It is better you do not know why you have been arrested. Your innocence will shine without subterfuge,” the man continued as if reading her thoughts. 147

He led her to the one cell for women. It was not surprising that all of the inhabitants were women of color ranging from deep ebony to dusky ivory. Most were probably a there due to infamous code noir, women who dared whose only crime really was their lineage, though there were several street walkers unlucky enough not to belong to a “house” with the ability to bribe officials or important clientele. There were also a few mambos that probably pissed of the wrong patrons. People were forever looking for someone else to blame for their own mistakes and misfortunes. All of the women were in various states of undress much like herself; more for the titillation of the guards than any claim A couple of the rougher women approached her immediately, fingering the fine linen of her shift, insolently flipping a stray curl that escaped her coiffure. Cherie had never been more frightened in her life, but she refused to show it. Any sign of weakness and the she-wolves would tear her apart. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Une bonne dame, eh? We don‟t get many placées in this place,” a haggard looking woman with blackened teeth, breathed fetid air in her face. “Look at her shift, Latie!” The other with equally bad breath and more than her fair share of body odor chimed. “And such pretty ribbons in those girls all done up gentil et assez! Like she‟s do much better than us filles travaillantes, eh?” Cherie said nothing, keeping her head held high and staring straight ahead. Bravery was well and good, but to respond would only invite trouble. She did not have 148

to have dealt with women such as this before to know it was probably better no to encourage them. She prayed they would tire of their sport and leave her alone, though she feared they would not be satisfied until they knocked her down a peg or two. Cherie was not so blind to the realities of life to understand it was only by luck of birth she was not one of these wretched creatures. It could have easily been her, and given a series of unfortunate events, it still could. Look where she was now. Without Diego or Étienne by her side, she was vulnerable to whims of society in general. This was the fate her parents and grandparents had tried to protect her from. Had she been the wife of „Tienne, no one would have dared seize her from her home and throw her into a dank, dirty jail cell. “Leave her alone before I turn you into a frog.” Cherie turned around to see a girl, fourteen at most leaning against one of the walls in, a cheroot hanging from her mouth. She was a striking figure, despite the undeveloped straight lines of her body. Her thick, straight hair fell below her waist in unrelieved black, she had strong arched brows a little too full to be feminine, but her lashes were long and curled. It was her eyes that held you; deep blue, bright green, mixed gray, eyes that saw far too much, eyes that knew too much. “Come here,” the girl told her. Seeing how the slip of girl stopped two of the hardest women Cherie had ever seen in her life, she did not hesitate to make her way over to the girl. “I am Marie, daughter of Gran Maître and Papa Legba,” the girl told her. 149

Cherie had no more than a passing knowledge of the Orisha, Voodoo gods, to which Marie referred. “I am, or will be a great mambo one day,” Marie went on, pointing to a cot against the back wall. “We will go and sit, oui?” Cherie decided not to point out the cot was occupied by four other women already. As soon as they approached, the women got up and moved away. “Now, what is your name?” Wouldn‟t a child of two orishas already know her name? “Cherie, Cherie Bonnet.” “Oui, that‟s right. Soon to be Cherie Barbin, non? Well, soon to be Madame Barbin. You will be out of this place by the morning. The Marassa Jumeaux have taken a interest in you for some reason. They want to make sure you see justice, you, and your men. You will, of course, have to be separated from the fierce one, but only for a time. Sad he won‟t see the birth of his garçon de bébé, but he will be back soon. All loose ends must be tied up, non? I have decided to stay here until le Capet sees to your release and puts the harpy, the governor‟s wife, in her place. Until then, we will sit and get to know one another, oui?” Cherie was not altogether sure what Marie had said, but she decided to relax and let the girl‟s chatter wash over her, keeping her mind off the terrible reality of where she was and how she was possibly going to get out. ******* 150

Étienne returned to an eerily empty house. Not even a servant was about. Thinking Cher was probably at her parent‟s house, he decided to meet her there. He had just started out when he was stopped by an old friend. "You must be thanking God you didn‟t marry her,” the man gushed with barely suppressed glee at the juicy gossip making its rounds across New Orleans. “That Bonnet girl I mean. Imagine shooting her own grand-pére for refusing to trap you into marrying her and raising the Duc Mortel‟s by-blow.” Étienne‟s fist connected with the unsuspecting man‟s face before he even realized he threw it. Cherie shot Gaspar? He doubted she had ever held a gun. If she wanted the old man dead, she would simply worry him to death. And as far as him marrying her, he had every intention of doing exactly what the idiot now sprawled on the sidewalk had implied. He would marry Cher and give Diego‟s child his name, but Diego would be every bit as involved with the child‟s upbringing as he was. Of that, he had no doubt. And when the hell had people began to call Diego the Deadly Duke? “Name your seconds,” Étienne growled. “Cherie Bonnet is my fiancée, the Duque de Suárez is our good friend. I suggest you keep that in mind before wagging your viperous tongue like a woman.” He turned on his heel to jog to the Durand household. What the hell was going on? It took less than five minutes to make his way there and bang on the door. Once inside, Étienne‟s heart felt as though it stopped at the unnatural silence in the house.

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The servants scurried about, heads down making not a sound. He was led to Gaspar‟s study, where Luc sat alone staring off into space. “What are you doing here?!” Étienne demanded. “Why haven‟t anyone gone to get Cher out? And where is Diego?” Luc‟s head snapped to stare uncomprehending at the fuming younger man. “Get Cher out of where? Isn‟t Diego with her?” Étienne was brought up short. “How is it you don‟t know when the entire city is buzzing of her arrest for shooting Gaspar?” “That is preposterous! A deranged cross dressing psychopath shot Gaspar. He is here, detained in the basement in the watchful company of several guards. Cher is at home with Diego.” “Diego is not at home, neither is Cher,” Étienne informed him as he walked towards the exit. “I have no idea where Diego is, but I am going to see what I can find out about Cherie.” “Hold!” Luc rose to his full height. “You need to go and find Diego. Take Farnsworth with you; I believe you will find him in the kitchens. Try Diego‟s plantation first. I will take care of Cherie.” ******* “You, there! Come with me!” Cherie swallowed hard, trying not to show how much her knees were knocking together. It had not been an hour yet, so the guard that said he would inform her family 152

was still on duty. She saw him out of the corner of her eyes, red-faced and furious. What was going on? The guard who had summoned her grabbed her arm as she neared the door of the cell. The girl, Marie, walked right along with her. Curious, but the soldiers paid the girl no mind as she slipped her small hand into Cherie‟s and smiled up at her. The sight of the little imp with a cheroot forever dangling from her mouth gave Cherie comfort. Surely, it couldn‟t be that bad if they let the girl tag along, right? Cherie was pushed and prodded up the narrow dank stair towards the same bolted doorway she had entered the prison. For a minute, her heart swelled at the possibility they might be letting her go. Instead of leading her to one of the carriages by the side of the plain gray stone prison building, she was led to a tiny building directly adjacent to the one that held prisoners awaiting trial. A chill rushed through her body to her very soul, causing tremors she couldn‟t control. She had heard whispers of the hanging court, a small mockery of a real courthouse set up for the sole purpose of hanging the undesirable with little to no evidence. The judge would be real enough, giving the faux trails a veneer of actual justice, but that was the only thing this charade of justice could lay claim. This was a place for revenge against those who would not be missed or could do nothing against their accusers. They were going to hang her. “Courage, petit,” Marie whispered. Cherie wanted to laugh at the insanity of one so young calling her little, but she couldn‟t get past the lump in her throat. Being shoved before the bench, she cast a futile look around to see if there was anyone she could call out to, anyone who knew her 153

father or Luc that would help save her. Instead, she saw the haughty governor and his wife, with a smug Agathe at their side. The other occupants of the room were people she‟d never seen before. The judge sat hunched over as if his spine had a permanent bend. His eyes looked beady behind thick spectacles that appeared too large for his face. His thinning black hair was pomaded against a shiny bald spot he could not hope to hide. His thin mustache was uneven and unkempt. His eyes were cold as he glanced down at her, his eyes lingering on her breasts. It had been cold in the cells her nipples were hard little pebbles against the fabric of her shift. They could have at least given her a blanket to cover herself. She tried crossing her arms in front of her, but Marie would not let go of her right hand. “Don‟t tell me you have an attack of modesty now, petite fillette.” The judge‟s voice was every bit as oily as his person. The man was actually leering at her, causing Señora de Gálvez to huff in disgust. “You and your kind are used to flaunting yourself in front of decent Christian men, non?” “Say nothing,” Marie whispered harshly. “He is trying to goad you; help will be here soon.” When Cherie obeyed the girl at her side, the judge frowned but when on determined, to get a rise out of her.

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“It says here,” the weaselly little man continued, “you have been seen in public indecently flaunting your dubious wares, trying to entice gentleman into indiscreet liaisons…” Cherie wanted to laugh, but she started straight ahead saying nothing. “Also, you tried to seduce a young man of decent family to into an unholy marriage using voodoo charms and spells. You stole the seed of an upstanding member of society to impregnate yourself…” How did one do that? Cherie wondered. The mechanics simply boggled the mind. “And most heinously shot and killed one Gasper Durand, Comte de Toulon when he tried to stop you from working you demonic wiles of the unsuspecting public.” Cherie stared uncomprehending at the awful man sitting on the raised platform in front of her. Someone had shot grand-pére? He was dead? She knew she should be crying, but she was numb. She couldn‟t move a muscle. She did not hear the judge asking the false witnesses who had stepped up to testify against her; she didn‟t hear the demands for her death from the rowdy crowd behind her; she did not feel the fruit thrown at her. She felt as if she was watching all these events from somewhere far off, trying desperately to get to the ashen faced young woman with one arm held protectively over her growing belly. She watched the so-called judge bang his gavel, pronounce her guilt, and sentenced her to hang without delay. It was all happening to someone else. She had done nothing wrong. “You will hang my child over my dead body!” 155

The room collectively swung their heads to the door thrown open by a regiment of…Carabiniers du Roi? But they were bodyguards of the king, the French King. Luc stood in the middle of the elite fighting force as if he were born to it. “And who are you to interfere with justice?” the outraged Señora de Gálvez demanded surging to her seat. Luc arched a brow towards her husband. “Control your woman or I will.” The woman gasped, turning an interesting shade of purple. Cherie watched in absolute fascination as she literally puffed herself up to twice her size. “I am…” That was all she could get out before her husband slapped his hand against her mouth. “Please forgive her mon Liège,” the governor babbled. “We had heard rumors, but we did not dare to believe.” “I am not your liege, Espagnol,” Luc drawled. “I am the bastard of the French king. It will be my half-brother, Louis-Charles, who will reign after my father. I sincerely hope you don‟t mean you have heard rumors that you had imprisoned my daughter and was about to…What exactly were you about to do to my child, Bernardo?” The governor sputtered, trying to come up with any acceptable answer. Looking into a face devoid of any emotions was as if looking at your death. Why had he listened to the incessant ranting of his wife and the harpy hanger on?

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“It was this woman!” Bernardo de Gálvez y Madrid, Vizconde de Gálveztown, and royal governor of Louisiana and Cuba, thrust Agathe toward Luc in a panic. There was a suspicious spot that appeared to be growing at the crotch of his breeches. “She convinced us that that girl…I mean you daughter was, was…” “Evil? A seductress? A voodoo priestess?” “They are called mambos,” Cherie wasn‟t really sure why she had spoken. It was all so unreal. Maybe the sound of her voice would wake her up from this horrid dream. Luc simply smiled at her before ordering one of his soldiers to wrap her in his own coat. Luc had soldiers! Remarkable. “We certainly did not know she was your by-blow!” Señora de Gálvez exclaimed, eliciting a grown from her husband. “My patience is wearing quite thin with your irritatingly bourgeois woman, Bernardo.” The governor quickly had his secretary hustle his wife out to their waiting carriage. “You will of course, leave New Orleans. I find I cannot stomach the idea of you alive and breathing in the same city,” Luc strode towards Cherie, wrapping her in his arms. Cherie melted into the embrace of the man she had always loved every bit as much as her own father. And now, he had claimed her in front of the worst bigots in all of the territory. “I will, of course, support you in your endeavor to succeed your father,

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as long as I am never burdened with your presence or the presence of your rather plain wife.” “Of course, of course,” the governor tripped over himself stumbling towards the door, pushing Agathe towards the waiting arms of any soldier on his way out. She tried to follow, but was immediately stopped. “Make sure she is chained and locked in one of the prisoner transports outside,” Luc told one of his men. “She needs to be taken immediately to the ship to sail for Brazil tonight. Make sure she is chained to the hull and stay there until the sails disappear. Leave two men aboard to ensure she does not leave that ship until she reaches the convent at Sao Paulo.” “Cherie, my God, we thought we were going to be too late!” Cherie peeked over the shoulder the man holding her to see Diego and Étienne rushing into the building with Diego‟s men. Smiling in relief, she ran towards the two. “Of course I am fine. Luc saved me and the girl…” She looked back to where the girl had been standing, but she was gone. Cherie, feeling the sudden weight of all she had been through, promptly fainted.

CHAPTER TWELVE 158

Cherie sat quietly on the front porch watching the sea. It had been a little over a year since that horrible day she‟d been snatched from the home she shared with Diego and Étienne. So much had changed for them all. Her grandfather Gaspar had not been killed; he had made a full recovery and his assailant had been tried in a real court and sentenced to life hard labor in the mines in Mexico. The man Agathe had hired had been a low life street criminal she had found on the docks. He had lasted six months in the mines before he had died of consumption. Agathe had made it safely to a remote convent in Sao Paulo. Strangely she was content there. Her last letter had indicated she was at peace with her life and she had begged forgiveness for all she had put them through. Governor Bernardo de Gálvez y Madrid and his wife had left for Cuba soon after Cherie‟s ordeal and had not been back to the Crescent City. The judge at the staged trial had not been seen since that awful day. Cherie had her suspicions about what might have happened to him, but she really didn‟t spend her days thinking about it. Although all who had taken part in her arrest had been punished or dispatched, Diego had moved her and Étienne to a property south of New Orleans near the ocean. The house was massive, built on a rise to protect against flooding with one known road in or out, (though Diego had shown them several other lesser known routes in case of emergency). The property was built on solid ground with acres of deep green lawns, but bordered deep swamp land. Diego had trenches built on the far property to keep 159

swamp creatures and undesirables out, and housed his own guards at outposts strategically placed around the perimeter. All in all, Cherie felt pretty safe. The strangest thing to come out of it all was the knowledge of just who Luc was. No one other than Amélie and Claude had known that Luc was actually the bastard of Louis XVI and the daughter of Philippe Henri, Marquis de Ségur, Marshall of France. Philipe was beloved, as was his father, as a military hero; he was known for courage, honor, and valor. Luc had been raised in his home, every bit the noble despite his bastard status. He was, after all, a royal bastard. Due to deep dissatisfaction with France‟s current regime, and growing calls for the bastard to replace the father on the throne, Luc FitzCapet simply became Luc. He signed up to be a regular sailor aboard a ship bound for the New World. There he had exchanged ships and met Claude. They became fast friends and when Claude had married Agathe, Luc had come along to be his overseer. He was never a great sailor anyway. The relationship between himself, Claude and Amélie had grown gradually over time, and developed into a true love, three-way match. They really had no idea who the true father of any of their children was, but it did not matter. Luc allowed Claude to claim them to protect his identity. He was supposed to be a nobody. It wouldn‟t do to have people investigating just who Luc really was. Now that was no longer an issue. France‟s monarchy was in serious peril. The queen was hated and whispers of revolution were becoming a dull roar. New Orleans 160

was currently enjoying a population boom of lesser nobility, with rumors of massacres on country estates and increasing unrest. Being that most of the Creoles in Louisiana prided themselves on their gentile roots, Luc had become something of a celebrity. Word had moved fast among the Creole population and everyone who was anyone who wanted to be his friend. Luc had married Amélie within a week of Gaspar‟s full recovery to keep matchmaking mamas and their machinations at bay and to give the children between he and his two lovers a name. Now Cherie‟s brothers were in demand as suitable matches for women that had been completely off limits to them just a month earlier. The most important thing was that her parents, all three of them, were unbelievably happy. And now, they were grandparents. Cherie had given birth to a robust baby boy with ink black hair, bright, gray eyes, and dimples to die for. Alphonse de Aguilar was a perfect happy baby boy adored by all who beheld him and a father who had never seen him. Diego had sailed back to France with his wife to confront his father-in-law two weeks after all had settled down. Though her parents had begged them to, Cherie and Étienne had not married. They had promised Diego to wait until his return to do anything. Cherie sighed as she glanced once more to the sea. He would come back, wouldn‟t he? “He will return,” Étienne gathered her from behind to hold her close. “I know,” she sighed. “It‟s just been so long.” “Oh ye of little faith.” 161

They jumped apart at the drawled words, whirling to the front door. There he stood, a bit leaner with a full beard and more line around his eyes. “Diego!” Cher flew into her lover‟s arms trying her best to crush him against her. “I was so worried you wouldn‟t come back!” Étienne stood back allowing the two a moment. Diego looked up to stare in the younger man‟s eyes. How he had missed them both! He had thought given time away, his feelings would change toward the other man, that he would become repulsed by the things he had done with Étienne. But he hadn‟t. If anything, he had yearned for him every bit as much as he yearned for Cherie, and she was his life. “Come „Tienne,” Diego said softly holding out an arm for his male lover while holding tight to his woman. With a visible sign of relief, Étienne allowed himself to be wrapped into a threeway embrace with the two people who meant everything to him. Diego was home, all would be well. “Have you seen the bebe?” Cherie asked pulling back. “Oh, he is beautiful Diego! He looks just like you! And he is beginning to walk.” “I came in the back and snuck up to the nursery. I wanted a little time alone with my heir.” He waited for what he said to register. The shock on their faces was priceless. “What of your wife?” Cherie demanded at the same time Étienne asked, “What about the king?” 162

Diego laughed, ushering them inside to sit down so he might tell them his news. The king had been both shocked and sympathetic as he witnessed the state of his youngest daughter. He had written to Rome on behalf of Diego asking the Pope, his cousin, to free Diego from a marriage that should have never taken place. When Rome had finally granted him an annulment, the king had tried to pair Diego with a granddaughter and then a cousin. It had taken five months to free himself from the king‟s court and return to his family here. “My lands in Spain are secure; my son‟s future is secured, as soon as Cherie agrees to become my duchess.”

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EPILOGUE

Cherie stood on the bedroom balcony inhaling the flora and fauna on the night wind. Only southern Louisiana contained a sultry, spicy, sweet air. The breeze was light caressing her skin through the sheer nightgown she had donned as she slipped out of bed. Taking a glance over her shoulder she couldn‟t help but smile at the men tangled in the virginal white cotton sheets snoring softly. It had been a perfect day. She still couldn‟t quite believe she was now Señora de Aguilar, Duquesa de Suárez. Their wedding was larger than she would have liked, though it was bearable she supposed. It was the ceremony performed later in this very bedroom that meant the world to her. Here, Diego and Étienne pledged their undying love and fidelity to her and each other, as she pledged hers in return. They all wore identical rings on their left hand for propriety‟s sake, but in her heart, she was now married to two men, and all was right with the world.

The End

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