Read Online Spring Fires by Cynthia Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cynthia Wright
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swept away, her slender arms encircled broad shoulders, graceful fingers touched thick, damp hair that smelled of fresh rain and maleness. As they kissed, animosity was replaced by hungry passion. Lisette let herself drown in the intoxicating pleasure of the moment, and her tired body drew strength from his.
"Have you lost all reason?" Hyla Flowers demanded in a hoarse voice from the doorway.
She broke away, flushed and glowing, and stared at Nicholai in disbelief. "I don't know... since Papa..." She turned toward the older woman. "I'll be all right—I just need some time to adjust."
Hyla came over and patted her cheek, glaring at Nicholai. "That's right, baby. You keep yourself away from people who'd take advantage of your grief!"
"Yes. I'll try." Lisette smiled weakly. "Mr. Beauvisage, what I said still stands. I would like you to leave."
He raked a hand through his thick hair, one side of his mouth quirking ironically. "As you wish, mademoiselle. But first, there is another matter I would like to discuss with you—for Senator Hampshire's sake. Could you spare me a few minutes in private if I give you my word to behave... as a gentleman?"
Lisette ignored the twinkle in his eye. "Hyla," she sighed, "I'll speak to Mr. Beauvisage in the study if you will look after the kitchen for a few minutes. Perhaps this will put a permanent end to his business here."
Nicholai waited as she removed her snowy apron, then he followed her across the keeping room to a door opposite the stairway. Lisette opened it to reveal a charming room, more of a retreat than a study, with cream-colored walls and a fine worn oriental rug of ocher, blue, and gold. An old cherry secretary stood tall against one wall, its front lowered to reveal pigeonholes neatly filled with various papers, and an open ledger with a silver inkwell and quill beside it. There were two Windsor armchairs, miniatures on the walls, a bookcase with overstuffed shelves, and finally, under a window, a faded red chaise upon which were two pillows, a sewing basket, a man's shirt, and an open book.
Lisette closed the door and the two of them sat down.
His expression was somber. "I apologize for kissing you just now, Lisette. I took unfair advantage of my physical strength."
"I don't want to discuss that kiss or any other. Can't you hear what I've been saying to you? Tell me whatever it is that concerns Senator Hampshire, then go home to your flying staircase and let me return to my work!"
"This looks like your room," he commented, stretching out and crossing long booted legs. "Something of a haven?"
"Papa was sick for a long time. After I began taking care of the accounts, this did become rather a... refuge." Suddenly, she stood and retrieved the shirt from the chaise. "This was his. I started to mend it two days ago, but I didn't finish because of the party at Belle Maison. I can't believe... tomorrow Papa will be buried, under the cold ground." Slowly, she raised it to one cheek and Nicholai saw the tears, like moonlight in her eyes.
"Lisette... you have to be able to cry. That's the only way to begin to heal—" When he reached for her hands, she pulled away violently, as if from a fire.
"Don't touch me!" Angrily, she wiped her eyes, then looked at him, sitting tensely with the shirt clutched in her hands.
Nicholai shrugged fleetingly and his gaze cooled. "Have it your way, cherie. I will make this brief so that you won't have to suffer my company much longer."
She had paled visibly. "Thank you."
"I want you to tell me what you and Marcus Reems were discussing so cozily. Is it personal, or related to business?"
"What concern is it of yours?"
"It is not my concern, I assure you! Lion Hampshire has cause to mistrust Reems and he asked me to learn what I could. I trust that you'll want to cooperate, since I cannot believe you desire any association with the man."
"That's your male vanity," Lisette retorted, and then smiled a little. "I am too tired to argue with you,
"Have you lost all reason?" Hyla Flowers demanded in a hoarse voice from the doorway.
She broke away, flushed and glowing, and stared at Nicholai in disbelief. "I don't know... since Papa..." She turned toward the older woman. "I'll be all right—I just need some time to adjust."
Hyla came over and patted her cheek, glaring at Nicholai. "That's right, baby. You keep yourself away from people who'd take advantage of your grief!"
"Yes. I'll try." Lisette smiled weakly. "Mr. Beauvisage, what I said still stands. I would like you to leave."
He raked a hand through his thick hair, one side of his mouth quirking ironically. "As you wish, mademoiselle. But first, there is another matter I would like to discuss with you—for Senator Hampshire's sake. Could you spare me a few minutes in private if I give you my word to behave... as a gentleman?"
Lisette ignored the twinkle in his eye. "Hyla," she sighed, "I'll speak to Mr. Beauvisage in the study if you will look after the kitchen for a few minutes. Perhaps this will put a permanent end to his business here."
Nicholai waited as she removed her snowy apron, then he followed her across the keeping room to a door opposite the stairway. Lisette opened it to reveal a charming room, more of a retreat than a study, with cream-colored walls and a fine worn oriental rug of ocher, blue, and gold. An old cherry secretary stood tall against one wall, its front lowered to reveal pigeonholes neatly filled with various papers, and an open ledger with a silver inkwell and quill beside it. There were two Windsor armchairs, miniatures on the walls, a bookcase with overstuffed shelves, and finally, under a window, a faded red chaise upon which were two pillows, a sewing basket, a man's shirt, and an open book.
Lisette closed the door and the two of them sat down.
His expression was somber. "I apologize for kissing you just now, Lisette. I took unfair advantage of my physical strength."
"I don't want to discuss that kiss or any other. Can't you hear what I've been saying to you? Tell me whatever it is that concerns Senator Hampshire, then go home to your flying staircase and let me return to my work!"
"This looks like your room," he commented, stretching out and crossing long booted legs. "Something of a haven?"
"Papa was sick for a long time. After I began taking care of the accounts, this did become rather a... refuge." Suddenly, she stood and retrieved the shirt from the chaise. "This was his. I started to mend it two days ago, but I didn't finish because of the party at Belle Maison. I can't believe... tomorrow Papa will be buried, under the cold ground." Slowly, she raised it to one cheek and Nicholai saw the tears, like moonlight in her eyes.
"Lisette... you have to be able to cry. That's the only way to begin to heal—" When he reached for her hands, she pulled away violently, as if from a fire.
"Don't touch me!" Angrily, she wiped her eyes, then looked at him, sitting tensely with the shirt clutched in her hands.
Nicholai shrugged fleetingly and his gaze cooled. "Have it your way, cherie. I will make this brief so that you won't have to suffer my company much longer."
She had paled visibly. "Thank you."
"I want you to tell me what you and Marcus Reems were discussing so cozily. Is it personal, or related to business?"
"What concern is it of yours?"
"It is not my concern, I assure you! Lion Hampshire has cause to mistrust Reems and he asked me to learn what I could. I trust that you'll want to cooperate, since I cannot believe you desire any association with the man."
"That's your male vanity," Lisette retorted, and then smiled a little. "I am too tired to argue with you,
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