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and raised his pistol, ready to start fighting.

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Chapter Three

     
    Celeste fondled the satin-smooth teak paneling framing the stained glass image of a river maiden and reconsidered her cabin's potential.
    No danger here of catching a splinter, if she entertained Don Rafael while standing up.
    She smiled at her reflection and tried a pose, one hand on her hip.
    And the lighting was certainly very flattering.
    The wall-sconces and overhead chandelier were made from mother-of-pearl, their many petals curving like water lilies. The carpet underfoot was a soft, silken ribbon of color flowing through her cabin, carved with rippling lines like waves. A matching silk coverlet swept over the enormous bed, while its twin was quilted into the headboard.
    He could take her on the floor, or the bed, and she'd still look beautiful.
    She twisted slightly, letting the light's soft glow reflect off the wood and highlight her own skin. Much, much prettier than naked bulbs.
    The entire room was a delicious jewel box which begged to be used as the setting for a long, frenzied round of sex with Don Rafael. There were no secret cubby holes or hiding places full of his secrets. So he was obviously keeping her close at hand for some more delectable pleasures.
    Which she hadn't enjoyed yet, dammit. Unfortunately, it had taken them forever to work their way out of the grand ball and the warehouse—and through the uproar on the streets.
Mon dieu
, they'd had to walk for blocks, dodging running vampiros and searching policemen, before his limousine could pick them up. She'd thought Monsieur Armand had bribed the police well enough to stay away from his parties no matter what happened.
    She snorted in disgust, remembering how her feet had ached when she was finally able to sit down. If she were the patrona here, she'd make sure the police never came near her parties, whether it took money or terror.
    Don Rafael had remained infinitely patient, while the night got later and later. She'd matched his calmness more easily once they'd left that exciting riot but hunger and keeping her temper had exhausted her. When he'd shown her to this cabin and left her alone, she'd lain down, expecting him to join her in a few minutes.
    Instead, she'd woken up early the next evening. Alone, dammit.
    He must have come in, found her asleep, and decided to let her recover, rather than wake her for his own greedy needs. She knew he'd been here, thanks to the faint whiff of his scent—and a very elegant new evening gown. Last night's contretemps had badly damaged her dress.
    She purred, throwing her head back and caressing her breasts through the fragile silk. How marvelous to finally have a paramour who was focused on satisfying her needs first.
    She obviously needed to tell her stallion she was fully recovered. He must be hovering outside, eager for admittance.
    Humming softly, she waved good-bye to the room and put her hand on the doorknob.
    "Bring the agreement into my cabin, where I can sign it," Don Rafael said from the corridor just outside her door.
    Celeste went completely still. She'd known he'd come to negotiate something with Monsieur Armand but she'd thought he'd forgotten that nonsense, in favor of enjoying her attractions.
    "Are you satisfied with it, Jean-Marie?" His deep voice was crisp and calm, appallingly businesslike.
    "Completely, sir. Monsieur Armand would probably have bargained longer but he wants us gone so he can concentrate on quieting his city."
    Gone?
    She was certain he adored her. He'd proven that a thousand times over during his visit, especially with his talk at the ball about all the feats a man in love would do. When he'd hugged her afterward, she immediately knew he meant her.
    But passion, even slavish worship, was not the same as a life together.
    If he left, what would she do? Go with him—to Texas? The land of cows and dirt and Indians? Never, even if she could leave New Orleans.
    Maybe she was wrong and he planned to stay. He