Nan Ryan - The Countess Misbehaves

That, and the damp, muggy heat that caused her hair to curl around her face and beads of perspiration to stand out on her forehead.

Eagerly climbing the stairs to the second floor gallery that was embellished with fancy iron lace, Madeleine hurried through the tall, fan-lighted double doors and stepped into the spacious entryway. She had taken but a few short steps before Avalina, her signature white tignon on her head, her broad black face radiating pleasure, was there to meet her.

“My stars above, Lady Madeleine, you had us all worried sick,” exclaimed the smiling woman who for the past thirty-one years had demonstrated unquestioned efficiency, style and undying loyalty to the man whose home she so capably ran.

“I know and I’m so sorry,” Madeleine replied, wrapping her arms around the stout woman.

Half embarrassed, as she always was, when the spirited young noblewoman embraced her—a mere servant—Avalina quickly pulled away, nodded to Lord Enfield and said to Colfax Sumner, “Welcoming celebrations and countless questions about her ordeal will have to wait until Lady Madeleine has fully recovered. She looks weak and pallid and she needs rest.”

Nodding, Colfax Sumner quickly agreed with the intuitive Avalina. Lord Enfield similarly demonstrated his caring and kindness, insisting, along with her concerned uncle, that she go directly up to bed and remain there for a least a week. She surely needed that long to recover from all she’d been through.

Madeleine put up no arguments. There was nothing she desired more than to escape the unsettling presence of her devoted fiancé, whom she could hardly face, so plagued was she with guilt.

“You go on now, dearest,” said Lord Enfield. “I’ll come up to say good-night once you’re settled in bed.” He glanced at Colfax Sumner. “That is, with your permission, sir.”

“Permission granted,” said Colfax, smiling.

The lord turned his attention back to Madeleine. “Dear?”

Madeleine inwardly cringed, but managed a smile as she said, “Yes, that would be nice.” She turned and hugged her uncle, then followed Avalina.

Upstairs, Madeleine released a soft sigh of relief and nodded gratefully when Avalina asked if she would like to take a nice, long bath.

Moments later Madeleine sank down into the depths of a tub filled to the brim with hot sudsy water. While Avalina gathered up her soiled clothing and laid out a clean white nightgown, Madeleine laid her head back against the tub’s rim, closed her eyes and began to unwind as she tried to fully relax.

But with her eyes closed she saw again the handsome face that had been just above her own when the Creole had made love to her during the storm. She was heartsick to think that Armand de Chevalier had drowned, but she knew that it was true. She was genuinely saddened by his death and at the same time filled with remorse for what she had done.

Madeleine opened her eyes and reached for a loofah and bar of sweet-scented soap. She began to anxiously lather her body and to scrub vigorously, determined to wash away any lingering traces of Armand de Chevalier.

As she avidly lathered every inch of her flesh with the soap and hot water, Madeleine told herself that this cleansing bath was exactly what she needed to put everything right. She would, she was determined, successfully wash away even the nagging memories of what she and Armand de Chevalier had impetuously done.

But when, fresh and clean from the bath, she lay in the big four-poster awaiting Lord Enfield, Armand de Chevalier was still very much in her thoughts. It was, she realized, going to take more than a hot bath to free her from the clutches of the Creole.

At the gentle knock on the door, Madeleine glanced at Avalina, half tempted to ask her to stay. “Please invite Desmond in,” she said to the housekeeper.

Avalina nodded, opened the door and left as Lord Enfield entered. When he quietly closed the door, Madeleine automatically stiffened. Smiling, he crossed to her, sat down on the edge of the bed facing her and held out his arms.

“Alone at last,” he said and reached for her.

He drew her up into his arms and Madeleine fought a perplexing desire to push him away, to order him out of her room, to tell him to leave her alone, that she wasn’t feeling well. She sat there in bed with her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling trapped and uneasy.

She felt his lips in her hair as he murmured, “How I yearn for the day when we’re married and I no longer have to leave you at bedtime.” He pulled back to look at her and said, “If only we were already man and wife. I could undress, get into bed with you and hold you all through the night.”

Madeleine swallowed convulsively. “Yes, that would be…wonderful.”

He read the anxiety in her expressive emerald eyes and felt her slender body tremble. He gave her a puzzled look. “What is it, my dear? You’re not yourself. Why, you’re trembling.”

“It’s just…well, I am very tired and I…”

“Oh, of course you are.” He was immediately contrite and sympathetic. “How thoughtless and selfish of me. I’ll run along now and let you get some rest.”

“Thank you, Desmond.”

“Good night, my dearest love,” he said softly, and his face slowly descended to hers. Terrified he was going to kiss her, Madeleine sighed with relief when he merely brushed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you very much, Madeleine,” he whispered, “and I’m so relieved that you came through that terrible disaster unharmed.”

Lord Enfield rose to his feet, smiled down at her, and said, “Dream of me tonight, darling.”

“I will,” she said.

But after he had gone and she’d put out the lamp and lowered the gauzy mosquito baire around the bed, it was not Desmond Chilton who filled her thoughts. Armand de Chevalier again intruded.

Madeleine impatiently kicked off the covering sheet, yanked her long nightgown up around her thighs in an effort to battle the sultry New Orleans heat, and closed her eyes.

Exhausted, she fell instantly asleep. But the man who tortured her waking hours followed her into her dreams to hold her and kiss her and make her misbehave.

“She’s sound asleep.” Avalina, having looked in on Madeleine after Lord Enfield left, announced to Colfax Sumner. “I expect she’ll sleep round the clock.”

“Yes, bless her heart. She needs the rest,” he said. Then he stated, pleased, “It sure is good to have her here.”

“It is,” Avalina agreed. “And the best part is, she’ll be right here at home with us for eight full months.”

“That’s right,” said Colfax. “The wedding is planned for April. We’ll have time to enjoy her before she marries and leaves us.”

“Indeed,” Avalina replied.

“Well, I think I’ll retire myself,” said Colfax. “It’s been an exciting day.” He turned, started down the hall toward his bedroom suite, but stopped after taking only a few steps. “Avalina, be sure all the doors have been locked before you go to bed.”

“I always do, sir.”

“I know you do.” He nodded, smiled and went on to his room.

There he disrobed, slipped into the nightshirt Avalina had laid out for him, and got into bed to read. But soon he was yawning sleepily, the words blurring on the pages. He laid the book aside, blew out the lamp, and stretched out on his back, folding his hands beneath his head. He sighed in the quiet darkness, content as he hadn’t been in a long time. His only niece was now in his house, safe and sound upstairs, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

In minutes he, too, was sleeping soundly.

But in the middle of that hot dark night, Colfax Sumner was abruptly awakened by the sound of something hitting the streetside balcony just outside the open French doors. Heart hammering, he lunged up, grabbed his dressing gown and hurried out to investigate.