room without being asked, and Tony calmly poured himself a snifter of Courvoisier. “How is my prisoner?” he asked.
Zelie came forward, her brow furrowed, and she lifted her turban-clad head to look into his eyes. “The mademoiselle refuses to eat. She is strong-willed and won’t eat a bite until you come to her and apologize for what you have done to her.”
Tony practically choked on the brandy. “The woman is mad! Let her starve before I offer her an apology for anything.”
“Monsieur, I fear you have done her an injustice.” Zelie wiped her perspiring palms on the front of her apron. “She knows her kidnapping is related to your uncle’s death.”
All color drained from Tony’s tanned face. “Does she know I’m behind it?”
Shaking her head, Zelie assured him that his captive had no idea he was involved. “However, monsieur, she is not a stupid woman; she may realize this fact very soon. She told me to tell you that she is not Lavinia Delaney but her cousin Laurel, I think she said her name was. She said you have made a grave mistake.”
Tony tightened his hand around the brandy snifter. Laurel Delaney? Was it possible he had kidnapped the wrong woman? The thought of such a mistake momentarily caused a wave of alarm to course through his veins. But such a wanton couldn’t be Laurel Delaney. A woman like Laurel Delaney, reputed to be an elegant if a somewhat cold woman, would be unable to make his passion flare. Not a lofty ice queen as his investigation into Lavinia Delaney’s relative had shown. He preferred a willing, flesh-and-blood woman in his arms—someone who responded to his kisses, his embraces.
A smile quirked around his lips. That Lavinia was such a woman, and he would congratulate her the next time they met on how easily lies rose to those luscious, strawberry-tinted lips. No, he convinced himself, he had kidnapped the right woman. He waved a tanned hand at Zelie.
“She is lying to you. You mustn’t believe anything this woman says. She killed my uncle, and I know you wish to see this woman punished.”
Zelie nodded slowly, but her old hands trembled. “You told me this Lavinia Delaney was cruel and dangerous, monsieur. You said she had hurt Auguste, and for that I will not forgive her. I took care of your Uncle Auguste when he was a little boy and loved him dearly. But this woman I saw today has no evil within her. She is frightened, and I think she means to starve herself. You must go to her, monsieur.”
So, Tony thought, Lavinia had deceived old Zelie. How crafty she was to enlist Zelie on her side. Well, he wasn’t an old woman with a soft heart. He would make Lavinia Delaney sorry she had ever met Auguste St. Julian.
“Don’t worry about her,” he spoke softly. “She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough. Just keep bringing her food.”
Zelie started to say something else but apparently thought better of it. “Oui, monsieur,” she said and shuffled from the room.
The brandy slid like silk down Tony’s throat, and that drink was quickly followed by two more until he felt sufficiently calm. Taking a deep breath; he turned away from the sideboard and stalked out the house to the barn where he gruffly ordered his horse saddled. Within minutes he was flying down Grand Prairie Road, not at all certain where he was headed until he noticed the cottage of Gaston Mornay.
Reining his horse in, he hesitated, overcome by a momentary qualm of guilt that he had kidnapped the wrong woman. Could it be that he had unwittingly kidnapped Laurel Delaney and not the treacherous Lavinia? Tony shook himself and decided he must learn the truth. The only person who could provide that truth now was Gincie.
After Tony had been solicitously handed a cup of coffee with chicory by Lillie Mornay and had conversed at length with Gaston about the disappearance of another cattle the night before, he and Gincie were left alone. Tony suddenly felt ill at ease with the woman but hid his discomfiture
Zelie came forward, her brow furrowed, and she lifted her turban-clad head to look into his eyes. “The mademoiselle refuses to eat. She is strong-willed and won’t eat a bite until you come to her and apologize for what you have done to her.”
Tony practically choked on the brandy. “The woman is mad! Let her starve before I offer her an apology for anything.”
“Monsieur, I fear you have done her an injustice.” Zelie wiped her perspiring palms on the front of her apron. “She knows her kidnapping is related to your uncle’s death.”
All color drained from Tony’s tanned face. “Does she know I’m behind it?”
Shaking her head, Zelie assured him that his captive had no idea he was involved. “However, monsieur, she is not a stupid woman; she may realize this fact very soon. She told me to tell you that she is not Lavinia Delaney but her cousin Laurel, I think she said her name was. She said you have made a grave mistake.”
Tony tightened his hand around the brandy snifter. Laurel Delaney? Was it possible he had kidnapped the wrong woman? The thought of such a mistake momentarily caused a wave of alarm to course through his veins. But such a wanton couldn’t be Laurel Delaney. A woman like Laurel Delaney, reputed to be an elegant if a somewhat cold woman, would be unable to make his passion flare. Not a lofty ice queen as his investigation into Lavinia Delaney’s relative had shown. He preferred a willing, flesh-and-blood woman in his arms—someone who responded to his kisses, his embraces.
A smile quirked around his lips. That Lavinia was such a woman, and he would congratulate her the next time they met on how easily lies rose to those luscious, strawberry-tinted lips. No, he convinced himself, he had kidnapped the right woman. He waved a tanned hand at Zelie.
“She is lying to you. You mustn’t believe anything this woman says. She killed my uncle, and I know you wish to see this woman punished.”
Zelie nodded slowly, but her old hands trembled. “You told me this Lavinia Delaney was cruel and dangerous, monsieur. You said she had hurt Auguste, and for that I will not forgive her. I took care of your Uncle Auguste when he was a little boy and loved him dearly. But this woman I saw today has no evil within her. She is frightened, and I think she means to starve herself. You must go to her, monsieur.”
So, Tony thought, Lavinia had deceived old Zelie. How crafty she was to enlist Zelie on her side. Well, he wasn’t an old woman with a soft heart. He would make Lavinia Delaney sorry she had ever met Auguste St. Julian.
“Don’t worry about her,” he spoke softly. “She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough. Just keep bringing her food.”
Zelie started to say something else but apparently thought better of it. “Oui, monsieur,” she said and shuffled from the room.
The brandy slid like silk down Tony’s throat, and that drink was quickly followed by two more until he felt sufficiently calm. Taking a deep breath; he turned away from the sideboard and stalked out the house to the barn where he gruffly ordered his horse saddled. Within minutes he was flying down Grand Prairie Road, not at all certain where he was headed until he noticed the cottage of Gaston Mornay.
Reining his horse in, he hesitated, overcome by a momentary qualm of guilt that he had kidnapped the wrong woman. Could it be that he had unwittingly kidnapped Laurel Delaney and not the treacherous Lavinia? Tony shook himself and decided he must learn the truth. The only person who could provide that truth now was Gincie.
After Tony had been solicitously handed a cup of coffee with chicory by Lillie Mornay and had conversed at length with Gaston about the disappearance of another cattle the night before, he and Gincie were left alone. Tony suddenly felt ill at ease with the woman but hid his discomfiture
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