When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(8)

“Her stepfather will certainly challenge you.”

“It would not be the first duel I have fought.”

“Alors, you intend to violate Lysette’s innocence, establish her in a residence where she will be scorned by all decent society, and duel with an aging father trying to avenge the honor of his ruined daughter—”

“Stepfather. Who beats her, I might add.”

“That doesn’t justify your behavior! How can I have raised such a wicked man as you?”

Max’s better nature— what little was left of it— stirred uncomfortably at her words. However the porspect of finally having revenge on the man who had ruined his life was too much to resist. He could not stop himself from seizing the oppurtunity any more than he could stop his own heart from beating.

“I warn you, Maman, don’t interfere. I’ve waited years for this chance. And your sympathy is wasted on the girl. I guarantee that she’ll be well compensated when it’s over.”

Chapter 2

The gown Lysette had carried with her was irreparably stained by her journey through the swamp. The morning after her arrival, Irénée provided a pale blue gown that fit well, although the high-collared, intricately tucked style was rather matronly for a young woman of her age. Still, Lysette was grateful for the older woman’s kindness and generosity. It was a relief to wear clean garments and to be rid of the filth and stench of the bayou.

“You look much better, ma chère,” Irénée said kindly.

Lysette murmured her thanks, wondering how such a gentle woman had raised a son like Maximilien Vallerand. He must have been an aberration— surely the rest of the family could not be like him.

“Madame Vallerand,” she asked, “do you have other children?”

“Oui, I have two younger sons, Alexandre and Bernard, who will be returning soon from a journey to France.” Irénée leaned nearer and added conspiratorially, “I have a cousin there with five pretty daughters, all unmarried. I encouraged them to go for an extended visit, hoping that Alexandre or Bernard would take an interest in one of the girls and return with a wife.” She frowned. “However, either the girls are not as attractive as their mother claimed, or my stubborn sons are determined never to marry. They should return in two months.”

Seeming to read Lysette’s mind, Irénée added, “I can assure you, they are very different than their brother. But Maximilien was not always this way. It is only in the last few years that he has become so embittered. He has suffered much tragedy in the past.”

Lysette repressed a disbelieving snort. Suffered? That splendidly healthy, self-assured male she had met the previous day did not appear to have suffered unduly. Now, after a good night’s sleep, she was fully prepared to deal with him. Vallerand would not take advantage of her again. One thing was certain— no matter what she had to do, she would not be returned to Gaspard Medart’s guardianship and then passed along to Etienne Sagesse.

Her mother had often told her that it was a woman’s lot to suffer and endure whatever le Bon Dieu sent her way. And in the past Tante Delphine had said that even the worst of husbands was better than no husband at all. Well, that was fine for some girls, but not for her.

Lysette’s heart thumped faster as they entered the parlor, a small but airy room decorated in pink, brown, and cream-flowered brocade. A rich flemish finish covered the woodwork of white oak. Spotless floor-to-ceiling windows let in the hazy Louisiana sunlight. The moss-green chairs and small baroque sofas were grouped together to invite intimate conversation. Seeing that the room was empty, Lysette began to relax.

She heard Vallerand’s voice from the doorway behind her.

“Mademoiselle, we have some things to discuss—” he began, and broke off abruptly as Lysette turned to face him.

He stared at her with an arrested expression. Lysette returned his gaze coolly, wondering what he seemed to find so fascinating. Certainly her appearance had improved with a bath and some much-needed sleep. She had no illusions that he might find her beautiful, as even the most vigorous brushing could not tame her frizzy explosion of red curls, and the past two days spent out-of-doors had made her freckles proliferate to an alarming degree. Her figure was slim but unspectacular, with small br**sts and nonexistent hips. Her features were pleasant, but her nose was too wide and her lips unfashionably full.

As the silence lengthened, Lysette gave Vallerand an insolent inspection of her own, a comprehensive gaze that no lady should ever give a gentleman. Vallerand was even more striking and virile than she had remembered… tanned and muscular and tall, his hair black as pitch, his eyes dark and audacious. He made the young men she had known in Natchez seem immature and callow. Wryly she wondered if Vallerand was a typical example of the New Orleans Creole. God help her if there were more like him roaming through the city.

“Yes, we do have much to discuss,” Lysette said decisively. As Irénée seated herself on a brocade-covered settee, Lysette strode to a nearby chair, trying to look more relaxed than she felt. She sat and regarded Vallerand with a challenging gaze. “First, monsieur, I would like to know if you intend to send me to the Sagesse plantation.”

Her directness did not seem to offend Vallerand. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe in a casual posture, watching her intently. “Not if you don’t wish it, mademoiselle.”