She had to do something—and quickly. She had to get rid of Nicole before the French bitch took everything. Abe was gone, so she couldn’t carry out her threat to send Nicole back to France. But, of course, Clay didn’t know that—yet. Bianca had no doubt that he would sooner or later find out.
She clutched at the curtain, crushing the pink silk. The way the two of them rutted, it’s a wonder Nicole wasn’t pregnant by now. After seeing Clay with the twins, Bianca guessed that if Nicole were going to have a baby, his baby, no power on earth would make him leave her.
Suddenly, Bianca dropped the curtain, smoothed the fabric lovingly. What if someone else were going to have Clay’s baby? Wouldn’t little Miss Frenchy have her nose put out of joint? And what if Clay thought Nicole were bedding someone else? She probably would, Bianca thought. She’s so hot for a man, she probably slept with Isaac on the island. Or Wesley!
Bianca smiled and caressed her stomach. Thinking always made her hungry. She started toward the door. She had a lot of thinking to do, and she’d need her nourishment.
“Merry Christmas!” Travis bellowed as Clay and Bianca entered Nicole’s little house. Bianca wore a sullen, hostile look. She ignored Travis and looked at the food piled high on the big table in the center of the room. She wrenched her arm free from Clay’s grasp and went toward the table.
“You choosin’ that over Nicole?” Travis drawled.
“Mind your own business,” Clay said sharply and walked away, Travis’s laugh sounding behind him.
Janie handed Clay a small cup of liquor. He drank it quickly, needing its warmth and strength. He gasped when he finished. The stuff was delicious. “What is this?”
“Bourbon,” Travis answered. “It’s from the new land of Kentucky. Some peddler brought some in last week.”
Clay held out his cup to Janie again.
“Go easy on it. It’s strong stuff.”
“But it’s Christmas!” Clay said with false joviality. “It’s time to eat, drink, and be merry.” He raised his cup in salute to Bianca, who was slowly circling the table, nibbling little bits and pieces of food from all the dishes.
Everyone quieted as Nicole entered the room. She wore a gown of sapphire blue velvet, off the shoulders, with deep décolletage and thin embroidered blue ribbons around the high waist. Her long dark hair was down, perfectly arranged in fat curls, braided and entwined with dark blue ribbons studded with hundreds of seed pearls.
Clay could only stand and gaze at her longingly as her eyes avoided him. Knowing that she had a right to be angry didn’t make the pain any less.
Wes stepped forward and offered his arm to Nicole. “Just seeing a sight like you is enough of a Christmas gift for me. Don’t you agree, Clay?”
Bianca spoke as Clay stared mutely. “Is that some of the fabric that was meant for me?” she asked sweetly. “Some that you and Janie took without permission?”
“Clay!” Travis said, “You’d better do something with that woman before I do it.”
“Be my guest,” Clay said calmly, then poured himself more bourbon.
“Please,” Nicole said, still avoiding Clay’s eyes. “Let’s have some eggnog. I must get the twins. They’re in the mill admiring the new puppies. I won’t be a minute.”
Clay set his empty cup down and walked to the door with her, where he took her cape from the wooden peg by the door.
“I don’t want you near me,” she said under her breath. “Please stay here.”
Clay ignored her as he opened the door and followed her outside. Putting her chin in the air, she walked ahead of him, trying to pretend he wasn’t there.
“It’s a pretty little nose, but if you don’t lower it you’re going to stumble.”
She stopped in her tracks and whirled on him. “It’s a joke to you, isn’t it? Something that is life and death to me is only a cause for amusement to you. This time, you’re not going to talk your way out of my anger. I’ve been hurt and humiliated too many times.”
Her eyes were enormous and blazing in the starlight as she looked up at him, her mouth drawn tightly until her lower lip nearly disappeared. All that was left was her full, sensual upper lip. He ached to kiss it. “I’ve never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly. “And certainly not to humiliate you.”
“Then, out of ignorance, you’ve done a fine job, a superior job! You called me a whore five minutes after I met you. You allowed me to run your home, yet discarded me as soon as your dear Bianca appeared.”
“Stop it!” he commanded, grabbing her shoulders harshly. “I know our relationship hasn’t been an ordinary one, but—”
“Ordinary!” she said sarcastically. “I’m not even sure it’s been a relationship. I think I am a whore. You snap your fingers, and I come running.”
“I wish that were true.” His voice was heavy with amusement.
Uttering what was obviously a French oath, she snarled at him and kicked his shin very hard.