Free Emerald Ecstasy by Lynette Vinet Page B

back.
    With that warning in her head, Lianne, Maria and her baby were escorted by Philippe into a carriage he had refurbished. A sadness filled Lianne as she waved again to Dera who stood on the front porch. They drove along the river road toward the city. “I shall miss her,” she said sadly.
    Philippe took her hand. Maria, who sat in the corner seat with the baby, sniffed. Lianne knew she didn’t think any more highly of Philippe Marchand than Dera did. He gently brushed a stray wisp of Lianne’s hair from her face. “I know, my love, but you have me to ease the pain. When we arrive in New Orleans, I shall show you your new home. I’ve already made arrangements for you to move into my town house which has stood empty for a long while. I think you shall be most pleased with it.”
    â€œPhilippe, I can’t. It isn’t proper.”
    â€œWhy not?” he asked blankly.
    She whispered low. “It’s almost as if you’re keeping me.”
    He laughed but his eyes were serious. “I wish that were true, my darling, except I want to keep you with me always. You know how much I love you, and want to marry you.”
    She remembered all the ardent marriage proposals, but she wasn’t sure. She was fond of Philippe, perhaps even loved him a little, but he didn’t inflame her passions like the stranger.
    She rubbed a thin finger across her forehead and looked at him with clear green eyes. “Let’s see what happens, Philippe. Don’t rush me.”

    Amelie sat on the side veranda, completely obscured from view. She hid her clenched fists in the folds of her gown, wanting to scream about the unfairness of life. She had witnessed the touching farewell between Lianne and Dera. Dera, never overly fond of Amelie, had at least shown her affection—no matter how forced. But since the French woman arrived, she spent most of her time catering to her and playing with the child. No matter how hard Dera’s disinterest was to take, Amelie convinced herself that she still had Philippe. And now he had gone with Lianne. Amelie felt abandoned.
    As she swallowed the huge lump which formed in her throat, she sensed Claude’s presence behind her chair. “Madam Amelie, shall I take you inside?”
    The lump became a painful ache, preventing her reply. He moved toward the front, seeing her beautiful eyes awash with crystal tears. When she realized he watched her, she threw her hands over face.
    â€œPlease don’t stare pityingly at me, Claude!” Her voice broke, and his heart nearly did too.
    Bending down, he slowly withdrew her hands from her face. Never had she expressed her feelings to him, always pretending to be cold. He knew better. Amelie was the warmest person with the softest heart he had ever known. And this is what he loved about her.
    â€œMadam … Amelie,” he spoke in his soothing voice. “Don’t allow others to hurt you so. Sometimes people don’t realize they’re being cruel.”
    He held her hands in his, unaware of the picture they made. She as white and beautiful as a Grecian goddess, and he, a dusky brown, as handsome as any man she’d ever seen. Claude’s touch, his voice, calmed her. “Everyone has abandoned me,” she said.
    He took a small wood carving from his pocket. He’d carried it with him for weeks, not certain he should give it to her. But now he wanted her to have it, and hoped she’d cherish it as much as he cherished the hours carving it. “For you, madam.” He held it out to her.
    She took it from him, a thoughtful look on her face. Amelie examined the smooth finish of the oak, the beauty of line and detail and could almost imagine Claude’s strong, sure hands whittling every inch of Amie’s form. She smiled at him, her tears still wet on her cheeks. “You carved Amie for me?”
    He nodded, too overwhelmed by her beauty to speak. Every morning when he