Creole Fires by Kat Martin

broom, her knuckles white with tension. Careful to keep her eyes fixed on the ground, she dropped into a curtsy.
    “I am a very hard worker, Mademoiselle Endicott. I will not be any trouble.”
    “You’d better not be.” With a last warning glance at Danielle, Clarissa turned back to Alex, who looked none too pleased. “She just needs a little supervision,” Clarissa told him with a smile that said the subject was closed. Resuming her hold on his arm, she let him guide her into the house.
    Nicki sagged against the corner of the building.How in God’s name could Alex saddle himself with a woman like that? If he meant to bring Clarissa Endicott to heel, he certainly had his work cut out. Why, the lady was one of the most obnoxious, overbearing females she had ever seen!
    One more thought occurred—Mrs. Leander was obviously correct. If Clarissa Endicott found out Nicole was a mature, unattached female, she’d be sold again. Nicki shuddered at the thought. Still, as she headed off toward the kitchen, she wondered just how meek and mannerly she could be when dealing with Alex’s wife.
    And just how well she would handle the fact when Alex was a married man.
    For the next few weeks the days heated up and the humidity increased. Still, Nicki was used to the long, hot summers, and the big plantation house had been designed to capture the cool river breeze.
    Clarissa stopped by occasionally to begin the early stages of her coming engagement ball. She had decided to hold the soiree in late September, since the fever season would be at an end and those planters who had left for the summer would have returned to their homes. Dedicated to Elmtree as much as Alex was to Belle Chêne, Clarissa was spending the hot summer months running her plantation.
    “She’s picked Belle Chêne for the party,” Mrs. Leander told Nicki, “‘cause she wants to impress the high society folks. The ballroom’s a whole lot bigger and far grander than her own.”
    Though she came to the house several times, Clarissa rarely saw Alexandre, since he was busy with his extensive work on the sugar mill. Once or twiceNicole had crossed paths with her, but Clarissa, who rarely spoke to the servants directly, had barely noticed. Usually she just instructed Mrs. Leander in the tasks she wanted done and went on as though the rest of them didn’t exist.
    It broke Nicki’s heart to think of Alex married to a woman like that. After all, she rationalized, she and Alex had become friends of a sort; she just wanted to see him happy. The unfamiliar feelings that twisted her stomach into knots whenever she saw the pair together was nothing more than dislike, an instinct that the two were ill-suited.
    She wished she could come right out and tell Alex he was making a mistake, but it was hardly her place. And since their ride to the sugar mill, he always seemed to be leaving about the time she arrived, or too busy to spare a moment for conversation.
    She hadn’t seen him for two weeks when she received a summons to the kitchen and was informed she would be helping to serve the evening meal. She was also cautioned that Clarissa would be in attendance, as well as François, and Thomas Demming.
    So far, the day had been cooler than most, the night breeze fresh and pleasant. Maybe she would take a walk along the river when she finished, she thought, shoving open the door to the dining room.
    “How is the work on the mill progressing?” François asked Alex as Nicki helped serve the first dish, a delicious-looking mock turtle soup.
    “As well as can be expected.” Alex glanced up at her just before she placed the gilded porcelain soup bowl in front of him. She could feel his eyes on her, his expression warm with greeting though no wordswere spoken. “It’s a major task, but we’ve got the best men possible for the job.”
    “I’m sure everything will be ready on schedule,” Clarissa put in. “Alex never disappoints.”
    “You can always count on Alex,”