Spring Fires Read Online Free Page A

concealed behind it. Lisette hurried in and out with the tortes while Pierre heated water and filled the tub. She made a grand effort to ignore the proceedings and avoid Nicholai's mocking eyes.
    Finally, the last torte was handed over to a crisply dressed maid in the main house and Lisette started back to the kitchen. She almost collided with Pierre in the garden.
    "I cannot take you back to Philadelphia until I see to M'sieur Nicholai as well as several other matters. I am sorry to make you wait, but now I must find a suit!" He was hurrying on, but stopped to add, "This is such a wonderful night! Everyone will be so happy!"
    "Pierre, does Mr. Beauvisage seem the same to you?"
    The Frenchman's eyes were wide in the darkness. "Mais, non! Truly, he is a man now. Greatly changed. The family will be astounded."
    Lisette nodded slowly as she watched him disappear into the moonlit garden. For a moment, she wondered whether or not to return to the kitchen, even though Nicholai and his bath were concealed behind a curtain.
    "Am I to stand out here in the cold?" she whispered, deciding at once. A few more steps and Lisette opened the door purposefully, only to find the bathtub in full view. The blanket lay in a heap on the floor.
    "It fell," Nicholai said with a mischievous smile.
    Lisette was astonished to realize that she was blushing. She had believed herself beyond shock or embarrassment after her years at the CoffeeHouse where men regularly said and did things no other virtuous girl had to deal with. How could her composure disintegratenow , when she needed it most?
    Lisette counted on the firelight to hide her dusky cheeks. "I am certain that the position of that blanket could not matter less to me, Mr. Beauvisage," she said coolly, meeting his amused gaze.
    He grinned. "You don't mind if I get out, then?"
    "Please, do not." She strove for a disgusted tone, but could not help noticing the strong, deeply tanned neck and wide shoulders that glistened with soapy water.
    "You are an intriguing paradox," Nicholai decided, enjoying this light banter that chased his thoughts from France and the recent past.
    "I haven't the faintest notion what you mean, sir."
    "I perceive that you are a woman who has no interest in any man—nor need for one." His eyes glinted with gentle perception. "Isn't that so? You would have me believe that, mademoiselle... believe that no man could send a chill down your spine or cause your heart to race with longing for his touch, kiss—"
    "Mr. Beauvisage!" Lisette burst out, angry to feel her cheeks burn again. "You have been living in France too long—and I think that you would not dare to speak this way to a female of what you'd consider your own station. Not that you are in any way above me—"
    Nicholai laughed. "I have no interest in this class nonsense. If I believed in it, I would doubtless have lost my head, literally, long ago. But we digress. As I was saying... the other side of your paradoxical nature is this: I see, opposing your coolness, that utterly beautiful face and body that seem to cry out to be made love to. I see the fire in your eyes when you are angry, I feel the genuine passion of your character."
    "You are inexpressibly insolent," Lisette told him in her iciest tone.
    "Which side of you is real?" he continued, ignoring her insult. "You know you can confide in me; I won't tell a soul."
    Lisette stared at him in fury, noting that his own gaze had hardened in challenge. "You are a rude, odious man and you have further spoiled an already disagreeable evening."
    "Well, I would ordinarily beg for forgiveness on bended knee, but am prevented by my state of undress and the fact that my own day has been somewhat less than idyllic."
    Lisette noted that the light tone was gone from his voice. Eyes averted, he slowly soaped the strong expanse of his chest, and for a moment looked poignantly weary. Before Lisette could ponder the ordeal of his escape from France or speak in a gentler tone, Pierre