Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(72)

“At least Villeré is a Creole,” Lysette said. “That should help our cause, n’est-ce pas?”

“Not necessarily,” Max replied. “At present he seems to have devoted himself to the cause of limiting the immigration of ‘undesirable persons’ to the state. And my son falls well within that category.”

Lysette frowned. “But if you prevail, Max, and the governor does pardon Justin?”

“Then Justin will be safe from the authorities.” He gave both women a humorless smile. “Until then, however, he’ll have to continue masquerading as Philippe. Which means he had better return in time for the Duquesne ball on Saturday.”

Lysette regarded him with a perplexed expression. “Can’t we offer some excuse for him, bien-aimé?”

Max laughed grimly. “I was just told this evening by the Duquesnes—cousins on my mother’s side—that they are turning their ball this weekend into a celebration to welcome Philippe home. He will be the guest of honor. As they described it, all of New Orleans will attend. And expect him to make an appearance.”

Celia heard Lysette’s gasp of horror. She stared at Maximilien, her mouth sagging open. “But…but what if Justin is not back in time?”

“Then,” Max said darkly, “we’re all finished.”

Late the following evening Justin had managed to assemble a dozen men whom Aug had sworn could be trusted. They met in the lakeside cabin. For various reasons none of them had accepted Legare’s invitation to throw their lots in with him. Justin was satisfied as he looked over the gathering. Among them were Duffy, a short but stocky Irishman; Tomas, a handsome mulatto; and Sans-Nez, a disfigured and surly-tempered brawler who had lost a goodly portion of his nose in a knife fight. None of them had been the ablest of the Vagabond crew, but they were the most vengeful. They had agreed to take part in the scheme not only for the chance to plunder the island, but also because they each nursed old grudges against Legare and his men.

Sitting on the wooden chest, his long legs crossed at the ankles, Justin formed a plan with Aug while the rest threw in their comments. It was a far more democratic system than Justin usually employed, but this was a riskier venture than any they had undertaken. If he was to lead them into such danger, it was their right to offer suggestions.

“We’ll have to destroy Legare from the inside out,” Justin said, looking at Aug. “If you could approach him and somehow convince him you’ve decided to join his lot, you could work behind the scenes to help us.”

Aug nodded. “I will gain Legare’s trust.”

“I don’t know what Legare might require of you to prove your loyalty,” Justin said. “If you decide to back out—”

“No,” Aug interrupted. “What is the rest of the plan?”

“With your help we’ll smuggle the men onto the island and launch a surprise attack. The only difficult part will be staying hidden until the right time.”

Sans-Nez spoke up, his face twisting with an ugly smile. “I know the underground tunnels as good as anyone. Years ago when I sailed with Legare, he had me locked up down there for weeks for taking a woman André wanted.”

Justin nodded. “See if you can remember enough to draw a map for us.”

“What about Legare?” Risk asked. “Who’s going to take him down?”

Justin arched his brows and smiled mockingly. “Jack, I’m surprised you need to ask. Killing Dominic Legare will be my personal and very great pleasure.”

Chapter 10

The three days that followed Justin’s departure may as well have been three months. Celia could do nothing but think about Justin. She realized that he was as necessary to her as he had claimed she was to him. He had said she belonged to him…well, she had not admitted it out loud but she knew he was hers in the same elemental way. Ever since he had been brought to the plantation he had been hers to tend and take care of, hers to worry over and want.

Theirs was an impossible match. Even so, the separation caused her to ache physically. It wasn’t a sharp pain but a dull emptiness in every part of her. She craved the sight and sound of him, his alert interest in her, his arrogant demands for her attention. She had not realized how many of her waking hours had been occupied with him.

Her loneliness was aggravated by the way Max and Lysette relied on each other in times of trouble. They lavished affection on each other and their children, finding occasions for laughter and affection even in the midst of all their worry. One morning the couple was absent from the breakfast table, and the entire household was aware that they had decided to spend the morning alone in their bedroom. When Lysette emerged later, her face was glowing and there was a soft radiance in her hazel eyes. Celia was glad for their happiness, but it made her even more aware of her own solitude.

At suppertime on Friday the conversation was stilted and quiet. Lysette occupied herself with Rafe, who talked to her in happy gurgles. She was trying to start the baby on solid food, but he had more interest in playing with the mashed banana than eating it. Celia forced herself to chew and swallow, but every bite of the pompano and mushrooms sautéed in wine and butter seemed to stick in her throat. Although Max seemed marvelously collected and unconcerned, he checked his watch every fifteen minutes or so, something he never did with such frequency.