My Cherie Amour Page 3

  only get her slapped. No decent woman was supposed to know about that. Maybe she

  could kidnap the whore and sell her to a whorehouse in Storyville. Unfortunately, her

  father was the richest man in the region, which meant he had immense power. No one

  would dare lift a finger against him for fear of horrible retribution.

  All she had left was her pride. With her shattered heart piercing her chest with every

  move she rose gracefully to her feet and headed for the door. She had to have time to think.

  “Send someone to my room to see to my comfort,” she threw imperially over her

  shoulder. “I simply cannot deal with this right now. I will let you know what I decide

  later.”

  Claude shook his head at the defeated woman. He really had not meant to hurt her.

  Hell, he wasn’t aware she had a heart to hurt. Agathe had always been a proud, cold

  woman. In the beginning when he had tried to have at least a peaceful, amicable marriage,

  if nothing else, she had respond with orders, demands and complaints. He had breathed a

  sigh of relief whenever her “trips” away from the plantation had become more and more

  frequent until they finally became permanent. Still, this could not be easy for her. However, when all was said and done he would not have her here upsetting Amélie.

  Of all the players involved in this base little play, she was the most innocent. She and the

  children.

  “Agathe, I am sorry.”

  She turned around and stared down her nose at the handsome little nobody she had

  lifted far above his station in life only to be slapped down like some wayward dog. “As well

  you should be,” she sneered, unable to keep the spite out of her voice.

  “You don’t understand,” Claude replied every inch the Creole gentleman she had

  believed herself to have created. “I am sorry you will have to be gone tomorrow, disabled

  steamboat or no. You can wait onboard with the other passengers.”

  “People know I have a plantation here!” She fumed in reply. “Why I would not be

  surprised to find a few visitors here if they cannot fix the blasted boat by tomorrow! You

  will have to just keep you’re…”

  Agathe’s words died on her lips at Claude’s furious visage. He was magnificent in his

  anger, she must admit. Bitter bile rose in her throat. He was magnificent and bewitched by

  a whore; none of his manliness had ever been for her.

  “I expect you to observe the dictates of society,” she amended quickly. “You will return at first light,” he informed her. Hell no there would be no

  busybody society matrons interfering with his family. “I don’t give a damn what you tell

  people, but they are not welcome here.”

  Agathe turned once more in an attempt at a regal exit, but Claude was having none

  of it.

  “And Agathe,” Claude added softly stopping her in her tracks. The voice was

  deliciously dangerous in its mildness. “This plantation belongs to me and my family. You

  really should read some of the documents your father is forever having you sign.”

  With that Claude turned on his heal and marched through the door his whore had

  went through earlier. Agathe supposed he had gone to offer that woman comfort while she

  supposed as she would be left all alone to lick her own wounds.

  Oh, that bitch would pay! If it took until her dying breath, Agathe would bring both

  them to their knees.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cherie grew up in a world full of love and acceptance. True, she had a somewhat

  unusual upbringing, having five older brothers, one mother and two fathers, but any who

  would frown upon her family’s lifestyle lived too far away to pry. Plantation life was

  isolated. The nearest neighbor was Rémi Barbin de Vicomte de Alsace, his young son,

  Étienne, and some kind of distant cousin, who lived hours away, though she did see them

  from time to time. The vicomte was a widower who chose to stay at on his plantation year

  round rather than deal with the bevy of match-making mamas that inhabited the cities. He

  was the only real company they ever had besides Cherie’s grandfather, Gaspar. If he knew

  of the unusual relationship between her parents he never said anything. He treated Amélie

  with the utmost respect. Cherie suspected this was because his “distant cousin” was

  someone far more important to the vicomte than anyone let on. The son, Étienne was of

  the same age as her eldest brothers and they had become fast friends. As a result, Étienne

  was such a frequent guest at Bellemere; he was part of the family.

  Although legally her mother was considered nothing more than a placée, the mistress

  of a Creole gentleman, at Bellemere, they were a true family. Amélie was the queen of her

  castle with Claude and Luc dancing attendance to her every need. She was their wife in

  every sense of the word. Cherie and her brothers did not acknowledge any difference from the two men they knew as their fathers, although with the boys, it was easy to figure out.

  Antoine, the eldest, Jean-Baptiste, the third child, and Louis, the youngest boy all had

  brownish-gold curls and laughing green eyes; just like Papa Luc. Bertrand, the second born,

  and Julien, the fourth born, had dark hair and deep blue eyes like Papa Claude. As for

  herself, Cherie was virtually the mirror image of her mother, so she could not be sure which

  man was her true father, not that it mattered. Being the only girl, she was spoiled

  mercilessly by all the male members of her family.

  As much as they loved to indulge her, she was also cosseted. Cherie understood it

  was not safe to wander about on her own. Living so close to the river sometimes brought a

  lost or travel weary person onto their lands. Luc and Claude would keep Amélie and the

  children out of sight until the person was on their way, and even then, the men sent

  someone to shadow the person until they were well away. The children were told it was

  only to ensure their safety, but that didn’t make much sense to them. Papa Claude and

  Papa Luc wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Why did they always have to hide?

  It was a lazy summer afternoon when Étienne had arrived to stay a few days. They

  boys had decided to ride out to a secluded creek. Cherie had been crushed when Jean

  Baptiste had informed her she could not go with them.

  “You are growing up, petite,” he had said while patting her on the head. “You will

  soon be a young woman. It is not proper for you to traipse about with a bunch of boys.” She had immediately run to Papa Luc only to be informed her older brother was

  right.

  “Sweetheart, I know you want to go swimming with your brothers, but Étienne will

  be there. It just isn’t proper.”

  “But Papa, I have swam with him and my brothers before!” she insisted.

  Luc smiled at her, but it wasn’t his usually sunny smile. Cherie immediately felt

  chastened, seeing how unhappy he seemed.

  “I am sorry, Papa,” she amended quickly. “I will stay here. Please don’t be

  disappointed in me.”

  Despite her privileged upbringing, Cherie had a sweet disposition. Luc marveled at

  how kind-hearted and giving the girl was. He had seen many young women with the same

  advantages who had grown to be vain, selfish women who cared for nothing but

  themselves. Like her mother, Cherie always put the needs of others before her own. What

&nb
sp; father would not be proud to have a daughter such as this?

  It had rocked Luc to the core to see his little girl was developing into a beautiful

  young woman. At twelve, her coltishness was beginning to give way to curves in her hips

  and her bosom. Given that she was the product of a highly unusual relationship to say the

  least, he was going to have to have a long talk with Claude concerning her future. “I could never be disappointed in you, sweetheart,” he assured her. “I am only sad to

  see how fast you are growing up. Soon you will leave here and start a family of your own.”

  Though Gaspar had assisted in obtaining an annulment for Claude, Amélie had

  refused to marry him. Luc knew it was because she did not want to him to feel in any way

  left out. Despite the assurances he had given to both his lovers, he knew that had she

  married Claude, a part of him would be wounded. It was in Luc’s nature to be dominant,

  in and out of the bedroom. He knew that it would have chafed if Amélie legally belonged

  to Claude, though he would never admit it. Amélie had known. As much as Luc wanted to

  give her his name, to do so would only place his family in jeopardy, and that he could not

  have. There were too many eyes still seeking him. Too many secrets better left buried. He

  could not adopt Cherie legally. No matter how badly he wished it, he could not give his

  only daughter his name. That honor would have to be left to Claude, and soon.

  As much as his heart rebelled against the very idea, a suitable marriage would have to

  be arranged for Cherie as soon as possible. She was far too beautiful, far too much of a

  temptation to remain the quadroon bastard of a wealthy planter. She was free game for any

  man who felt he wanted her. The family would have to move into the city as soon as the

  adoption was final to allow Cherie to move into society. Some would shun her, but

  Gaspar’s power and all of their combined wealth would provide her entree into the proper

  circles. Money was, as always, a great equalizer. *****

  Cherie hid behind a large bale of hay in the stable’s loft listening to her brothers and

  Étienne as they returned from their excursion. As much as she had wanted to go the creek

  with them, she was glad now that she had not. From her position in the loft she could hear

  everything they were saying; things that would have never been said had she accompanied

  them.

  “Your fathers took you to a brothel?” Étienne asked incredulously as Antoine and

  Bertrand nodded.

  “You should go too, before we leave for France,” Antoine suggested.

  Cherie felt a twinge of sadness. She had forgotten her oldest two brothers would be

  traveling with Étienne to France soon. While Antoine and Étienne would come back in a

  year after a trip across the continent, Bertrand would make his home in Paris, where he

  would be attending university to learn to read law. She was close to all her brothers, but she

  had a special relationship with Bertrand. He was the only one who never treated her like a

  girl, but as an equal despite the fact he was seven years older.

  “We learned a lot,” Antoine continued. “Things you would never believe!”

  “What does some fancy whore have that you can’t get right here?” Jean-Baptiste

  grumbled. “You better be careful,” Julien groused. “If one of those hot headed Cajuns catches

  you with their lily white daughters, they’ll decorate their lawn with you and worry about

  whose bastard you are later.”

  “Like you’ve never snuck off to get some swamp pussy,” Jean-Baptiste retorted.

  “Not from a Cajun. Their daddies have damn good aim,” came the quick fire reply.

  “Besides, there are plenty lonely mulatoo and quadroon tails in the swamps. A man is far

  less likely to get shot or wind up at the altar”

  “Pussy is pussy,” Julien spoke up. “I don’t care where it comes from, just as long as I

  can have some.”

  Cherie noticed that Étienne remained silent. He seemed to glance up at her hiding

  place from time to time, but she knew he couldn’t see her. She sighed silently as she

  watched the light of the sun play on the red, brown and gold hues of his hair. Though she

  could not see them from where she was, she knew his bright blue eyes would be shining

  with laughter at her brothers antics. This was not the first time she had eavesdropped on

  them, so she was beyond being shocked by anything they were saying. Besides, she didn’t

  have a clue what most of things they were talking about even were.

  “All cats might be the same in the dark,” Bertrand was saying, “but not all men

  know how to make that cat sing.” “Exactly,” Antoine agreed. “A working girl can teach you how make a cat, er,

  woman bay at the moon.”

  “Dogs bay at the moon, Antoine, not cats”, Étienne.

  “You know what I mean!” He replied tersely. “All I am saying is if you want to be a

  better lover, it’s best to learn from a professional.”

  “I think I do pretty well for myself,” Jean-Baptiste boasted. “I haven’t had any

  complaints.”

  “You have never been with a sophisticated Parisian either,” Bertrand reminded him.

  “Papa Luc and Papa Claude will probably take you before your tour.”

  “And what were they doing while you and Antoine were learning?” Julien, who had

  been unusually quiet until that moment, asked.

  “Relax,” Antoine told him. “They were in the card room the entire time we were

  upstairs.”

  “How do you know that?” Louis demanded, voice cracking with indignation. Louis

  was fifteen and just beginning to grow into his manhood. His voice tended to crack

  whenever he was upset, which was why he tended not to speak unless he had to.

  “Because Grandpéré Gaspar was with us,” Bertrand sighed. “Like we were saying,

  Étienne, we can ask Papa Luc to take you too, so you are prepared for Europe.” Once again, Étienne seemed to cast a glance in her direction. She shrank back a

  little, careful not make any noise. She knew he could see her, but why did he keep looking

  in her direction? Cherie held her breath as she waited to hear his reply.

  “I don’t think so,” Étienne murmured to his friends casting a quick glance toward

  the stable loft. He couldn’t see Cherie, but he knew she was there. Not being able to come

  with them to the creek today had been a blow to her, but it was necessary. It was he who

  pointed out to Antoine and Bertrand that Cherie was far too old play the tomboy. She was

  fast developing into the beauty he always knew she would be, and he was not so sure he

  would be able to hide the burgeoning attraction he felt for her. She was a child for God’s

  sake!

  From his simplistic answer and unwillingness to divulge any of his exploits the

  conversation quickly turned to horses while they rubbed down their animals. As the others

  made their way out of the stable to the house Étienne hung back giving the excuse of

  inspecting his horse’s shoes. He waited a few minutes, watching the boys to make sure they

  didn’t turn back for any reason before he looked once more toward the loft.

  “You can come down now,” he called up to hidden girl. He bit back a smile as he

  watched the precocious Cherie step into the light biting her lower lip to climb down the

  ladder. “How did you know I was up there?” Cherie
demanded, lifting her little pointed

  chin as if she hadn’t just been caught eavesdropping.

  “Because I know you, little one,” Étienne informed her tapping her on her pert little

  nose. “Did you get an earful?”

  She gave an imperious toss of her head as she put her hands on her still developing

  hips.

  “I’ve heard worse,” she tossed at him. “My brother’s are not always circumspect

  where I am concerned.

  He couldn’t help but smile at the haughty little attitude. “That’s a big word for such

  a little girl.” He teased, knowing it would rile her.

  “I am NOT a little girl. I am practically a woman!”

  He snorted; practically maybe, but not quite. But she would be soon, and her

  parents were no doubt thinking of a suitable match for her now. Étienne made a mental

  note to send a message to his father this afternoon. He had always had warm feeling for

  her, but he was wise enough to recognize the brotherly affection he had felt was slowly but

  surely giving way to something altogether different. She would be the perfect bride for him.

  Not only did her unusual family life make it easier for her to be able to accept his own

  father’s peccadilloes, but she was intelligent and charming, and would be a great beauty. The fact that he was beginning to love her and knew that she at least felt a modicum of

  affection towards him was icing on the cake.

  “Je vous prie de pardonner la jeune dame,” Étienne bowed low, trying valiantly to

  keep a straight face. “You are right, you are practically a woman. A very beautiful one at

  that.”

  Cherie’s breath caught at the sudden change of the tone of his voice. Suddenly the

  timbre seemed to have dropped a few octaves, and he was staring at her with such intensity

  it sent chills all over her body. Her brothers and fathers had certainly never looked at her

  the way Étienne was looking at her now. It was every bit as exciting as it was frightening.

  “Well, I will take my leave of you now,” she hoped her voice didn’t shake as much as

  she was quivering on the inside. She didn’t understand the feelings she was feeling now,

  but she knew it would probably be best if she left now.

  Turning on her heel she ran out of the stable.

  “Soon belle petite fille,” Étienne whispered as he watched her hurry to the main