Free Tainted Lilies by Becky Lee Weyrich Page B

tipped over the chair.
    “Nikki? May I come in?” The husky timbre of his voice caused a hollow ache inside her as if she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in several days.
    Her own voice surprised her with its strength and musical clarity when she answered, “Yes, please, Jean. I’m ready.”
    And she was ready by the time he opened the door and strode through it. Though her cheeks were more blushed than usual and her French-blue eyes sparkly-bright as a fever victim’s, her smile was calm and welcoming, making Laffite’s own uncertainties take flight.
    She stood demurely before him and allowed him to drink in her beauty. His gaze traveled from the constellation of jasmine stars twinkling in the midnight of her hair, over her glowing countenance, pausing to kiss her coral lips with his eyes. Soon his gaze traveled down to the point where her vernal breasts rose in silken fullness out of the crisp lace trimming her simple white gown.
    He smiled into her eyes, pleased. “Out of all those fancy costumes I had Xavier place in the armoire, you chose to wear all white tonight. It’s appropriate, darling, and becomes you.”
    Darling, he called her! Nicolette’s senses soared. He was saying more—showering her with compliments—but that one word resounded in her heart so that all the others were drowned out.
    “I picked it for you, Jean… dearest.”
    The breathy endearment quivered on her lips… not because she didn’t mean it with all her heart, but because she wasn’t sure he’d accept it.
    He did, and with a smile so touched with emotion that Nicolette found herself fighting to hold back her tears. When he opened his arms to her, she went gratefully, accepting what he offered and giving full measure in return.
    His face lowered over hers. Their lips met tentatively—touching, caressing, savoring the joining. Nicolette parted a way for his intimate exploration when she felt his urgent tongue against her flesh. She let her bare arms slide up the creamy linen on his back until her fingers twined in the coarse locks against his neck. Through her happy haze, she thought, I’ll always remember the texture of his hair, how wonderfully warm it feels against my palms, how fresh and clean it smells, like sea air and Spanish limes.
    He drew away slowly, but held her still in his arms. Nicolette looked into his ruggedly handsome face and felt him speaking to her with his eyes. The silent message touched her heart—made her ache for him.
    “I want you to be my wife, Nikki,” he said at length. “I can’t offer you the perfect life you deserve. I’ll have to be away from you at times. But you’ll always be in my heart. What I’m trying to say is, I love you. I want to know that you’ll be here… from now on.” He frowned as if he found his own words unconvincing, and added, “That’s not much of an offer, is it?”
    “Could I ask for more?” she murmured.
    “Most women would.”
    She pulled away slightly and traced his high cheekbone with a gentle finger.
    “I’m not most women, darling. I’m the woman who loves Jean Laffite more than life itself. I’m the woman who’ll be your wife and give you everything I have to give—love, understanding, tenderness, and, I hope, beautiful children.”
    He crushed her in his arms then, burying his face in the shielding curtain of her hair. She felt his silent sobs. Her own emotions broke with his. So much tension had built up over the past days. So many times they had seemed worlds apart. Now the sudden realization that they shared an eternal love overcame them both.
    When he had composed himself and could manage his familiar rakish smile again, he asked, “Well, Nikki, shall we go now and make it official? I’m sure the word has spread already that a ceremony may be in the offing tonight. Secrets are hard to keep on Grande Terre. Xavier and Gabrielle both knew my intentions. That’s two people too many for us to spring a surprise on anyone.”
    “Aunt Gabi knew and