Free Tender Fury by Connie Mason

angry voices coming through the open porthole. She was sure she had heard her name spoken and recognized the voices as belonging to Philippe and Marcel. She arose stealthily, edging toward the porthole, straining to catch their words.
    “You seem quite enamored by your petite Gabrielle, mon ami ,” Gabby heard Marcel saying.
    “And you, Duvall, seem overly concerned with my wife and my marriage.”
    “Does your bride know about Cecily?” Marcel asked slyly.
    “She knows I was married before,” replied Philippe between clenched teeth.
    “I’m sure you have not told her the truth,” Marcel implied.
    “Keep away from Gabby, Duvall,” Philippe warned ominously. “If you interfere this time I will kill you. I should have done so long ago.”
    “I was not the cause of Cecily’s death,” Marcel emphasized. “You were the one who forced her to conceive a child she did not want. You were the one who sent her fleeing through the jungle in the dead of night. You…”
    “Enough, Duvall! It is over and done with. It is Gabby I am concerned with now. She is not cut from the same cloth as Cecily. She is a true innocent and knows little of men like you. Stay away from her!”
    “Ha!” laughed Marcel derisively. “What about men like yourself, mon ami? Who will protect her from your jealous rages, or your insatiable lust? What about that, St. Cyr? Let us speak of your lust. Have you told your little innocent about Amalie, the beauteous, passionate, Amalie? Amalie will not take kindly to your new wife.”
    “I can’t see where it’s any of your concern, Duvall,” Philippe said coolly, “but if it makes you feel any better, Amalie expects me to return from France with a bride.”
    “I can well imagine how that wildcat took the news when you told her you were ready to take another wife,” smiled Marcel with secret amusement.
    “As I said before, it is none of your concern. Amalie will do and act as I say,” insisted Philippe.
    “Since when did Amalie follow orders?” Marcel laughed derisively. “No, mon ami, Bellefontaine is not big enough for both wife and mistress.” He smoothed his mustache and licked his lips, thoroughly enjoying Philippe’s discomfort. “I will be happy to take the little baggage off your hands.”
    Philippe turned on him with such a black scowl that Marcel was momentarily at a loss for words. “Amalie will remain at Bellefontaine,” he growled. “It is her home. Whether or not she remains my mistress is none of your business.”
    “I have no doubt whatsoever that she will continue to warm your bed, especially when little Gabrielle’s belly begins to swell with the heir you seem to want so much.”
    “Why is it, Duvall, that my women interest you more than any others?” asked Philippe venomously.
    “But, mon ami, you have such superb taste in women. Take your innocent wife, for instance. I do believe she surpasses even Cecily in beauty. When you succeed in driving her away, I shall be there to pick up the pieces.”
    Gabby did not hear Philippe’s angry retort because Captain Griscard chose that moment to join the two men and his booming voice soon put an end to the alarming conversation that cast a pall upon her immediate future. She should have known that Philippe had no intention of keeping his marriage vows!
    That night, if Philippe noticed any reluctance on Gabby’s part to participate fully in the farce he called lovemaking, he made no mention of it. His tenderness in bed not only puzzled her but infuriated her as well. She longed to confront him with what she had learned that afternoon and decided to do just that when he finally lay quiet beside her, his mood mellowed by sexual fulfillment.
    “Philippe,” she said hesitantly, running her hand along the muscular planes of his chest.
    “What is it, ma chere? Have I not satisfied you enough for one night?”
    “Please, Philippe, be serious for a moment.”
    “I am serious,” he said, moving his hand lightly over her