Aris and Evangeline - The Finale

More days slipped away from them. The air in the house was growing increasingly tense by several degrees. Since that night, Evangeline had refused to see or speak to Aristotle, which piqued his guilt and ire at the same time. There had been many times he had wanted to go to her, but he couldn't. Both their prides were getting the best of them in the worst way. After a tumultuous week of bitter silence, Evangeline had finally had enough. During the predawn hours, she had packed her things and moved into the townhouse to avoid any potential contact with him. Aristotle had not taken well to the news of her departure. In fact, that morning, the servants had hidden away while he shattered practically everything within reach; plates, glasses, vases. The house was a shambles, but no more than the shambles of his insides. Jacques was the only brave soul to try to stop him from storming out of the house to go after her.

"Monsieur, give her time!" the valet pleaded. "You both are stubborn and will not listen to reason."

"Listen to the man, Aris." Jean's voice echoed entering the messy foyer. He had watched from the doorway as the two men struggled. Jacques was trying desperately to stop the steam train know as Aristotle, who didn't seem too deterred by the slim man. As Jean stepped gingerly over broken glass and porcelain, he gestured for Jacques to go on, sparing the man a potential loss of employment. "Come along, mon ami. You look terrible."

Aristotle allowed his good friend to lead him back into his study. Glancing about, Jean immediately noticed that Aristotle had been practically living in the room. Strewn rum bottles lay everywhere as well as dirty plates of untouched food and a blanket carelessly draped over the sofa. "When was the last time you slept in your own bed?"

Aristotle shrugged. "I find my own bed lacking."

Jean studied his disheveled  friend. He'd never seen him this way. His face was covered with a thin beard, his usually neat plaits were matted, bags weighted his eyes and his bulk seemed diminished. Either Aristotle was ill or he had the worse case of love he'd ever seen. "That bad, mon ami?"

"She's heartless, Jean. I knew that from the beginning. Yet, I was the fool," Aristotle shrugged.

"How do you know your affections are not returned?"

"Because she can't wait to leave me!"

"Did she say that?"

Aristotle snorted as he settled into his chair. "She's made no bones about our arrangement. She keeps having to remind me our association is temporary. I've even asked her to renegotiate the time, but she refuses."

"Have you told her of your feelings?"

This gave him pause. He hadn't told Evangeline of his feelings. He had just assumed she had known and was blissfully ignoring them. Would her attitude change if he did tell her? Doubt began to cloud his mind. Evangeline valued her independence above everything else, of course her attitude wouldn't change.

"It wouldn't matter, Jean."

"Are you sure?" his friend ventured, pointedly.

Aristotle thought again, then glanced up at his friend. "What do you know?"

Jean sighed, leaning on his desk. "Eloise went to see Evangeline at the townhouse this morning. The woman is angry with you that is for sure. Eloise couldn't even repeat half the ugly names she'd called you. But it sounded like she was more hurt than insulted. You actually called her an amusement - to her face?"

Aristotle dropped his head in his hand, then nodded it in affirmation. He heard Jean tsk him disappointedly. "Aristotle!"

"I was angry, Jean. The woman can be callous about my feelings but I'm to go lightly her. You know her tongue is viperous. Then those two bastards show up here to come collect her and she doesn't look the least bit saddened, delighted was more like it. How am I supposed to feel?"

"I see." Jean finally understood the real reason for his friend's rage. He was going to loose her and he didn't know how to handle it. "Aris, if you love the woman-"

"Love!" Aristotle scoffed.

"This is me, Aris. Lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. Remember, when I was deep in my cups over Eloise. The pretty thing had how many suitors after her. Many more well qualified than me."

"And she couldn't stand any of them." Aristotle mused with remembrance. "If I recall you had rebuffed her advances."

"And you convinced me that I was twice the fool for doing so. Had I not taking your advice-"

"More like throttling."

"I would've lost her, Aris. Now, you love that minx. It's written plainly on that haggard face of yours. And if you don't let her know now, you will regret it."

With that Jean left Aristotle to his misery. Sadly, Aristotle had stopped lying to himself. He just couldn't bring himself to admit his love openly. It was the fear of her rejection. But was Evangeline feeling the same? What was keeping her from admitting her love for him? If it was even there. He thought back on all their conversations and began to notice a common thread. Dear God, why hadn't he seen this before? He rose from his chair to gaze out the window. The storm had cleared up allowing the sun to break through the clouds. He had a choice to make: love her or lose her. With resolve, Aristotle turned and left his study.

"Jacques, ready me a bath and my clothes."


Evangeline was in bed, where she had spent most of the morning since settling into the townhouse. She had been up before dawn packing her things in a mad dash to get out of the manor. Everyone, including Aristotle, were most likely under the impression she had left to get away from him. In actuality, she had done it to keep herself from doing something foolish, like running to Aristotle and blubbering about how much she loved him. If only she could have erased those awful days and nights alone in her room. She could've made everything right that afternoon he'd come to her. They could've kissed and made up and all would've been well.

Why had she intentionally jab him? Her selfish pride. That awful beast. She couldn't let it go that he had cut her so deeply. It was that same shameful pride that had her running from his house and straight to his townhouse. Why had she come here and not gone to the hotel to stay with Como and Rui? She hated to admit it but she couldn't loose his closeness. She still had to feel his spirit somehow.

Her only respite from her vicious pride was the morning's visit from Eloise, but even then her ire had been fueled again retelling what had happened. It made her feel justified in her anger and shame. However, she had felt terrible when she'd seen the blushes crossing her friend's cheeks at her colorful words. But she was hurt. And wounded prides were not very eloquent at all. In fact, they were vulgar.

To think she had reconsidered her thoughts on the carriage ride home that day. She had actually considered lengthening her stay and sending Rui and Como back to Cabo Verde. Well, at least he'd exposed his true self before she'd made a complete fool of herself. At least, his true feelings about her were now front and center and unmistakeable. To hell with Aristotle Beauvois, the arrogant swine. Let him find his amusements elsewhere, because her shop was closed.

Her eyes drifted out the water-splattered window to see the storm clearing, the sun breaking into the clouds. Her hand rested casually on her middle faintly while thoughts of the good times rolled around in her head. How foolish they were? Worse than most foppish of fops. Right now, they could be on their morning ride along the beach, taking in the salty sea air or if the rain had not let up, they'd be curled up on the sheltered veranda watching the rainfall. Suddenly, pain constricted her throat forcing her to swallow the hurt.

"Damnit, Evangeline, pull yourself together. He's like all the others. He doesn't matter." She scolded herself sitting up. But it was no use, the dams broke open and she fell back on the bed, sobbing, under the impact. Why did this hurt this much? Because he stole your heart, silly girl, and you let him. A soft knock on the door sobered her, quickly. "Entre."

The petite maid, Emily, who had helped her settle in, shuffled into the room with a curtsey. "Madame Montiero, Monsieur Beauvois is down below."

Evangeline hid her surprise, but not her ire. "Tell him I am taking no visitors."

She knew she was being ridiculous considering she was in his townhouse and he had every right. She rose to stand at the window, dismissing the girl with a wave. Fearfully, the girl scurried away to tell her employer his guest refused to see him. A moment barely passed before Aristotle burst into the room, slamming the door behind him. He was seething. Evangeline had whirled around to stand her ground, hands firmly on her hips, ready to battle. She was almost undone by his appearance. A freshly shaved and attired Aristotle glared at her through tired eyes. If she would just pack away her damnable pride, then she could pull him into her arms and show him how much he meant to her.

Aristotle was having the same dilemma. His rage had been piqued when the little maid come to tell him she had refused him an audience. The nerve of her to dismiss him in his own townhouse. Did she never learn? Now, with one look at her stunning face, he was undone yet his anger still prevailed.

"How dare you-"

"I dare when it's my property," he bit quickly stopping her rant.

"Well, then I'll just go stay with Como and Rui," she huffed brushing passed him.

"You do and I'll call them out!" He threatened snatching her back.

Evangeline gasped at the threat. Was he serious? His eyes sure registered so. Well, if a duel would be called then it would be she who would honor it, not them. "If you want to draw guns, Aris, I hope you're a good shot because my marksmanship is unmatched."

Her statement actually surprised him. If it had been any other time he would've laughed, but he knew his Evangeline would not appreciate that. He took in a breath to calm his nerves. This was not how he wanted to do this. Running a weary hand down his face, he sighed. "Evangeline, please, I didn't come here to fight."

"Then what?"

"I came to bring you home."

Evangeline was suspicious. "Why? So, you could make sure your amusements are close enough?"

"Damnit, Eve! I am sorry. I should've never said that to you. I was a fool-"

"Damn right!" She spit back.

Aristotle gripped her shoulders to quiet her. "Listen to me, Eve! I want you to stay with me longer than our arrangement. In fact, I want done with this whole thing of arrangements. That day in the foyer, I was just unnerved with the appearance of your brother and Como that I had taken leave of my senses. Please come home with me. Let's forget this unpleasantness-"

"Unpleasantness! You want to call what happened mere unpleasantness?" She shrieked shaking off his hands. "You want to dust this off as if it was a mere nothing. A slip of the tongue. A misunderstanding of the situation. Go to hell, Aristotle! I've spent my entire life being treated less than I am, a trinket, something to barter, something to use. I finally find myself in a place of pure independence and respect in my life and you, you foolish man, come along and try to ruin it all. I know I mean nothing to you, Aristotle. You did a fine job of spinning me into your lies, giving me a sense you valued my mind, spirit and body, but I was just a novelty. And novelties wear off with time. Eventually, you would realize that you aren't man enough to handle a woman like me. So-"

No further words came. Aristotle had snatched her by the shoulders and slammed her to the wall, the impact knocking the wind right out of her, but Evangeline was quick and fought like a hellcat. She may not win but she'd give him the devil's try.

"Not man enough?" he growled, his face inches from her own. "You have gotten away with far more than any woman has with that snake's tongue of yours. I bet you don't realize just how heartless and callous you can be."

His hands tore down the front of her shirt. Then his lips crashed against hers bruising them. "Would you have rather this, Evangeline? Instead of all the care and tenderness I gave you, would this have made you more happy?" He pulled her skirt hem up enough to rip her drawers. Without hesitation, his rough fingers jammed  into her, causing her to yelp, forcing tears to spring into her eyes. "Would this have made me more man enough for your liking?"

Despite the show of her tears, Evangeline still held strong trying to fight him. Her awful, awful pride was being worn away by his words. He had been gentle with her. He had made her feel cherished. Their affair was not cheap. She was the one painting it so. And he was more man than she could handle. Why could she not relent? Aristotle was nothing like Arnoldo, or Anwar. He wasn't using her. Had she taken the moment to see that, she would've spared herself this awful pain.

"I offered you love, Evangeline, but you were too stupid to see it. Too prideful. I admitted my wrongs to you, begged for your forgiveness, but you shoved them down my throat. Go, get on the first boat crossing the Atlantic then, if I've hurt you so badly. See if I care." With that he shoved her away, stalking from the room before he took back his last decree.

In the wake of the storm, Evangeline slid to the floor clutching her torn blouse. Touching her lip, she didn't need a mirror to know they were bruised and swollen; however, no more than her stupid, worthless pride. Her body shook with sobs as she wrapped her arms about her middle. She could still feel the empty throb of her womanhood echoing the pain of her heart. She had pushed him. She had cut him with her words, when he was offering his love.

Oh, God, he had said he loved her!

And what had she done? His had assessment of her had been spot on. And what was worst, she could hear Amelia's words in her head: One day, you will encounter a man who will be your contemporary and you'll want to grow old with him. Just don't be too stupid to pass him by, because of what you've seen of these fools. She had been the fool and now she had hurt the one man who truly loved her. The one man who let her feel everything and be her true self. Had she gone so far that it was irreparable?

Her eyes glanced at the empty door. If she hurried maybe she could stop him. Slowly and carefully, she began to crawl across the floor to get her barrings. She couldn't let him go. Her voice was a faint raspy whisper calling out, "Please... come back."


Aristotle had entered the study downstairs, clutching his plaited head. Frustrated tears dotted his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Never had a woman brought him such pain. Of course, he'd never loved a woman so strongly. For God sake, what had he done? Her words had cut him so deep he had lost all reason and sense. If she didn't hate him before, she certainly did now. The smell of her essence lingered on his fingers and it sickened him, pained him to think he had hurt her. Clearing his eyes, he poured a stiff drink from the decanter, then swallowed it in one swoop. He recalled her tears; her angry tears. He exhaled wearily, then reached to pour another drink when a figure in the door caught his eye.

There she stood; a solemn, rumpled mess. Her lips were swollen as if bitten by a bee, and her cheeks streaked in tears that refused to dry. She held her shirt together, clutched to her bosom. Dear God, the damage had been far worse than he imaged? He could just kill himself. Unable to bear the sight, he began to turn away, when suddenly, Evangeline ran to him, falling to her knees clutching his leg. She had assumed he was disgusted with her and couldn't bare the sight of her.

"I'm sorry, Aris. Please forgive me." Her voice was barely a rasp over her sobs. "I was a fool and a awful bitch. You were right. I was too stupid to acknowledge your love and even more the idiot for not admitting my love for you. I was afraid. I was so fearful you would cast me aside once the novelty wore off. I couldn't stand to feel this pain of being without you. Please, please, please, don't send me away." 

Surprise covered Aristotle's face as she spilled her heart out to him. Instead of blaming him for the physical pain he'd caused her, she was begging forgiveness for the hurt she'd caused him? Touched by an overwhelming need to comfort her, Aristotle fell to his knees, drawing her into his arms. He rocked her gently, shushing her sobs, as he ran his hand over and down her back. It seemed like hours had passed as they lay huddled there on the carpet. Eventually, Aristotle lifted her into his arms to carry her back upstairs. Once back in the the room, he carefully placed her on the bed.

Evangeline had quieted down a bit but she still trembled. The fear of nearly losing her love still resonated to her core. Aristotle retrieved the wash cloth and basin from the dresser to clean her face of the tears, praying the cold water would also sooth her lips. Evangeline met his concerned gaze, and without a word between them she drew his lips down to hers. Passion quickly flowed like a river, speaking of their longing and love. Aristotle tossed the cloth aside to hold her to him. Their bodies molded firmly to one another.

Her hands steadily removed his jacket, then immediately went to work on the buttons of his shirt. She was desperate to feel his skin upon hers. She could tell he was doing his damnedest to be gentle with her after his earlier rage, but her patience could not oblige this need at the moment. Her tongue goaded his mercilessly, teasing and nipping. Aristotle tried to temper her urgency, but she was tempting him beyond his control. He eased the torn blouse from her body, then slid her skirt from her legs. He made quick work of her under things, tossing them aside.

His breath caught at the sight of her nakedness. It was like he had been long denied this visage. His hands ran over the plain of her belly, making Evangeline flinched under the touch. He leaned over to take a sip of her breasts, taking their fullness into his mouth. She moaned at the tenderness as she cradled him closer.

"Aris." Her sigh fell on his lips. "Promise me we will never hurt each other like this ever again."

"You have my word, Eve." His fingers trailed down her hips, then over her thighs, parting them. This time, they delved into her depths with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. She gasped with immediate pleasure as her hips rose to meet his fingers. They moved deliciously over the swollen folds tightening the coil deep with her, frazzling her nerves. "Under one condition."

Evangeline opened her eyes to meet his. "What is that?"

"You must marry me."

Evangeline bit her lip against the desirable pressure building in her nethers and the big decision placed before her. It was not hard answer and her wicked smile gleaming affirmed it. "I agree to your terms, under one condition."

Aristotle laughed. She wouldn't be his Eve without a stipulation of her own. "And that is?" He kissed her belly sweetly awaiting her answer.

"We live part of the year in Mindelo and part of the year in Port-au-Prince."

He stared her down sternly before teasing a nipple sinfully with his tongue. "I agree to your terms, my Evangeline," he conceded before plunge deep within her, sealing the arrangement.

It had to be the best negotiation she'd ever done. Feeling his body connected to hers had been like coming home. The intensity, the fire that coursed through them was a signature that would remain with them eternally. They made love all afternoon until sleep had claimed them. By the time the sun set, Evangeline and Aristotle lay exhaust in each others' arms enjoying the fading light and their new arrangement. Aristotle toyed lazily with the strands of her hair between his two fingers. He loved their silken feel, just as much as he loved the feel of her cheek against his chest. A knowing smile played on his lips.

"You know there was no way I was going to let you leave here with that parcel you have."

Evangeline looked up with feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Aris?"

He playfully rolled her onto her back to lay kisses all along her body down to her navel. "Come now, Eve. You don't think I've noticed?" His hand cupped her belly with a jiggle and a deeper grin. "As many times as we've made love."

"Aristotle Beauvois, are you calling me fat?" she pouted evasively, hiding her own smile.

"I wouldn't dream of offending you that way, my dear," he assured her with a kiss to her lips. "But that doesn't change the fact that had I found out sooner about this, our negotiations would have been null and void."

"Would they?"

"Yes. And tomorrow morning we are going down to the church to see Father Maurice."

Evangeline sighed forlornly. "If you insist."

In response, he entered her smoothly, which brought out that wickedly seductive grin of hers he loved so much. "I do."


"When Jean told me we were meeting you and Aristotle in the churchyard, I wasn't expecting it to be for a wedding." Eloise gushed as she hugged her good friend as attendees to the ceremony filed out of the church.

The sun was shining brightly over the tiny garden as the manor and townhouse servants gathered to watch Evangeline and Aristotle get married. Jacques had received word last night from Aristotle to bring his best suit and everyone else for a celebration in the city. When the valet appeared on the townhouse steps that morning, he was a blubbering mess; he was so overjoyed. Everyone was. Thierry had gotten his mother to prepare an exquisite meal for them as well as bake the most decadent cake. It was all waiting for them at the restaurant. Aristotle had even sent for Como and Rui, who were shocked yet happy for their Evangeline. Como had warned her she would have quite a scandal on her hands when she got home.

At the moment, Jean, who had a laughing Jean-Pierre hoisted on his shoulder, joined their little circle. "That's because you were still digesting the news the old man was getting married."

Eloise blushed, then happily chided, "Jean, put him down before he falls."

"Already spoiling, Jean?" Evangeline laughed.

"I've got seven years to make up for, Madame Beauvois. Come along, Madame Monroe, before there are no seats left in Thierry's."

Eloise waved him along. "He is so happy to have his son. And I am pleased to have him as a son, too. Thank you, Evangeline."

"You're welcome, El. See you at Thierry's."

"Oui." The two women kissed each others' cheeks and waved good-bye. Evangeline watched as the newly formed family walked down the short walk to the restaurant.

Aristotle finished his business with the priest and was coming out of the church looking for his wife. That sounded so nice to his ears. He smiled at the sight of her looking immaculate in her pale lilac gown. Her hair tucked under a matching hat to shield her from the sun. Glancing downward, he could just make out the faint bump of her belly, a sign that his child grew with in her. He had seen it that day during the storm, but had not been sure, which had added more to his anger with Evangeline, because she had hiding it from him. Then when he had undressed her in the townhouse yesterday afternoon, he knew for sure and had been too overjoy to damper their reunion. She looked stunning and he knew she always would. With a relieved sigh, he came down the steps to join his wife, only to be halted by Jacque.


"Jacques, please tell me you aren't going to cry again?"

Jacques steeled himself, assuredly. "Monsieur, I will not disgrace you thus. I only wish to inform you that it is done. Word came in just this morning."

Aristotle smiled, fully understanding the message. "Good."

Now, their life would go on without hindrance and his wife could rest her spirit. He took Evangeline's hand and led her to the carriage to head over to celebration. "Aristotle, I can walk to the Thierry's," Evangeline scolded.

"My wife and mother to be will do no such thing," he stated firmly getting into the carriage with her. "Besides, I wanted to give you your wedding present."

"Oh. And that is?"

"Good riddance to the past. My men tracked down Arnoldo and, let's say, he will trouble you no more."

Understanding his gist, Evangeline smiled widely with happiness as she wrapped her arms about him. "Thank you, but how?"

"I discovered he had a bounty on his head in the States and worked a deal with the magistrate to capture him in return for a pardon. My men stuck around to see he was executed. After giving my men their cut, I put the rest of the reward in the bank for our child. It may not match your mother's inheritance, but it's a start."

Evangeline leaned against her new husband with relief flooding through her. "And I cannot wait to show you my land. You'll love Mindelo in winter."

"Winter!" he exclaimed, then smiled drawing his wife close to his side. "I guess a deal is a deal."

"There's no us without one." Evangeline laughed as they road off to their new arrangement.

Aris and Evangeline - Early Arrival, (Un)welcome Guests

Weeks passed and the warmer weather became more unbearably hot. Evangeline had to create a whole new wardrobe just to keep up with the oppressive humidity. Eloise helped her by giving her advice on what materials to buy and which seamstresses to use. The two of them had become fast friends, much to Aristotle and Jean's dismay since the two would gang up on them mercilessly. Especially during evenings where they played cards. Somehow the women had developed a system to communicate that insured their wins every time, which frustrated the men to no avail.

Since the night of the dinner party, Evangeline and Aristotle had called a silent truce as long as neither party brought up the time they had remaining. It made for a more soothing stay. They went about their affairs as if time was on their side. At night they made passionate love and during the day they made passionate love. Occasionally, they would interact with the world around them, but most often they were in each others arms, wherever they could find the privacy.

Madeline had kept her promise and had stayed in the country with her mother removing all tension from the house, which made it easier for Eloise and Jean to visit without fear. On certain nights, Jean-Pierre would join the couples at the dinner table and regaled them with stories of his little adventures. The visits gave Jean a chance to visit with his son without drawing suspicion from the boy. It was all quite nice. That was why Aristotle thought trouble would arise again when letters came from Madeline addressed to himself, Jean and Jean-Pierre. He sat in his study staring at all three notes debating what he would do.

"You'll drive yourself mad." Evangeline singsonged as she swished into the room staring at the grimace lining Aristotle's face.

"What is she planning?" he questioned aloud.

"Well, start with this one." She handed over the letter addressed to him. He looked at her, then took the note and opened it.

Aris,

I cannot begin to tell you the shame I feel for what I put you through these past years. I can remember the countless times you scolded me like child for acting so foolishly and recklessly. Here I thought I was being a woman of the world, but apparently I was a fool. I am ashamed to admit this but I was never ready to be a mother, but my greed, foolish pride and shame over what I had done kept me from admitting the truth. It was something that Evangeline said that night that brought about my revelation. I am loath to admit it, but she was right. I had to pull myself out of this drudgery and find myself. 

Mama was quite surprised when she saw me on her doorstep. She feared I had done something far worse than the last scandal. But she welcomed me with open arms and we had the most beautiful talk. She helped me come to some decisions that I think will be beneficial to me and everyone else. Something I should've done a long time ago really. As you will notice, you received letters for both Jean and Jean-Pierre. Please make sure they receive them and please explain to my son that I love him, but I am not the one who should raise him for I still have a lot of raising to do myself. 

I know this may not sit well with you, Aris, but, for once, I am thinking of the boy and not myself. You're a bachelor and cannot offer him the kind of stability and discipline that Jean and his wife can. That night I had seen to what depths he loves her and how well paired they are. I've heard of all the nice things she had done for Jean-Pierre while he was her student. Things that had made me feel sorely lacking. Hence why I had lashed out at him. Something that makes me very ashamed to admit.

I have also sent a letter to France for Count Devereaux explaining I will no longer require his services and have renounced him as Jean-Pierre's father. I'm sure he will not care, but at least my conscience is clear. I plan to do a lot of soul searching here in the country. Mama has already dragged me to several church socials with her hoping to assuage my sins. And you can inform your Evangeline that I did not burst into flames as she had predicted when I attended church last Sunday. I guess the Lord still does pay me mind. 


As for your Evangeline, as much as I hate to admit this, she pairs well with you, Aris. Her arrogance far outshines yours. And it seems she keeps you more than satisfied. Which reminds me: you may want to move your guest quarters to the other side of the villa to avoid any on lookers. Well, I do hope you come to visit. Mama has been asking after you.


Much love and care,
Madeline

Aristotle shook his head, smiling at his sister's words. When he glanced up, he saw that Evangeline had been leaning on his desk watching him the whole time. His sister's words had flitted across his mind again. He had been fighting his feelings for weeks now, but he had to admit, to himself at least, that he had fallen helplessly in love with Evangeline. He loved waking up with her by his side or snuggled close to his chest. He loved their discussions and debates over business. Her mind was far too sharp and quick witted for her own good. She made him do things, feel things he had never thought he would. Most of all, he relished their quiet moments, where they would sit holding one another on the veranda, watching the sun set into the ocean. He never thought he would find such joy in a simple act.

And then there was their adventurousness.

On one of the hottest days on the island, while out riding horses by the seashore, Evangeline had slid off her mount, stripped down to her shift, then dove flawlessly into the ocean. Aristotle had nearly lost his mind with fear until he realized the silly girl could swim like a fish. He had dove into the surf to save her, but was dunked soundly for his effort. But afterwards they had made love in the sand; unashamed and uninhibited. There had been so much passion in the act that it had been the first time he had recognized how much he actually loved his Evangeline. Time had gone by far too quickly - three months worth. He dreaded looking at his calendar for fear he would go mad. A couple of times, when he was alone with his thoughts, he would grow dark and would brood over the idea of her leaving. He was tempted to plead for her to stay again, but knew it would only cause trouble.

"What did she say?" Evangeline broke into his thoughts, pulling him into the present.

"She's doing well. Mama is happy to have her and she's made some decisions."

Evangeline smirked teasingly. "What brought about the smile?"

"An observation she made." He folded the letter to tuck into the desk drawer.

"Are you going to share?"

He chuckled, drawing her onto his lap for a kiss. "Let's say she may shine you in a different light."  

They both giggled at the thought, when they noticed Jacques' slow approach. "Monsieur, a Como Andrade is here - for Madame Evangeline."

"Como!" Evangeline exclaimed merrily leaping from his lap to run into the hall. She had missed the surprise and sadness that had flitted across his eyes. It was too soon, Aristotle thought. Sighing heavily, he rose from his desk to follow her into the hall. When he entered the foyer, he found Evangeline hugging the petite man, who returned her embrace wholeheartedly. Watching the exchange was not making Aristotle any more happier with the man's early arrival. He wasn't due for another month. Why was he here now?

"Oh, Como, I have missed you," she sighed, touching his face.

"The gossip mills have missed you more." Como teased with a wave of his hand. "It seems you had neglected to inform your lovers of your sudden departure and there was quite a stir in one of your establishments."

"Oh, Johnny and Franco! Did they cause too much damage?" she cringed.

"Nothing Nato couldn't handle. I had to escape the island incognito so they wouldn't be tempted to follow."

"Which brings up my next question? Why are you here so early?"

Como gave a leery look over to a frowning Aristotle before answering in their language. "I assumed you would've wanted an earlier exit if he had grown tired of you." Evangeline blushed slightly drawing her friend's notice. "I guess I assumed wrong. Singha?"

"Singha." She concurred with a smile. "We will talk later. Now tell me, did everything go well?"

Como sighed wearily. "I had made it back to the island just slightly ahead of your stepfather. I gave the missive to your solicitor who quickly dispatched the men to handle him. Unfortunately, that wily bastard escaped after being informed. No one has been able to find him since. I'm sorry, Evangeline."

Fire sparked in her golden eyes at the news. Como waved away the unpleasantness to add, "Besides, your brothers were highly concerned that you had not returned home with me, even after I explained you were alright. So, I was forced back on the next boat coming this way."

"And of course, I could not let him come alone," a voice added from the doorway.

All eyes fell on the tall, handsome gentleman dressed in a finely tailored gray suit. His eyes were the same golden brown as Evangeline's as was the broad smile he beamed. Women would be paralyzed by such brilliance. He dripped charm and seduction just like Evangeline did. He entered the foyer straight for Evangeline, who had tears of happiness in her eyes. Aristotle watched the man carefully. He didn't like his presence in his home.

"Rui!" she screamed embracing him. She was lifted from the ground and swung about. "Look at you!"

The man stretched out his arms and twirled about for her approval. "You scamp! I'm sure you had the female passengers drooling."

He blushed slightly. "Following in my sister's footsteps. When Como told me what happened I had to come."

"As you can see your sister has come to no harm," Aristotle interjected drawing the man's eye.

Evangeline quickly recognized the possessive note in his voice and thought to ease the tension. "Aristotle, this is Rui, my youngest brother."

"So I heard." He drew her closer to his side while his dark brown eyes bore into the young man, who didn't seem too please by his move.

"I've come to collect my sister, Monsieur Beauvois. I hope this will not pose a problem."

"It does since your sister has promised me five months of her service and you are far too early to collect her." His tone was edged and Evangeline could see the tick in his cheek. He was on the brink of anger and she had to quell the tension quickly.

"I'm sure Como has informed Rui of the nature and terms of our arrangement and just thought it prudent to be here earlier to collect me rather than make me wait." Hearing that Aristotle tightened his hold on her. What had gotten into him? He was acting like a jealous lover. He knew this time was coming. She had to admit she had not been prepared to see her old friend, much less her brother, there to pick her up, but they were there. In all earnestness, she had forgotten about the time, which was strange because with each passing day her heart tightened at the thought of leaving Aristotle.

She had grown accustom to their chats and their lovemaking. He made he feel so beautiful and so cherished even though she knew only lust was in his heart for her. She had tried her hardest to push her feelings away, discount the emotions she felt when he was with her, but now she knew it was a full-blown case of love. How was she going to walk away from him? Now, with her brother's arrival, the final strains of their agreement were coming to an end and she dreaded its coming.

What she hadn't realized was how her words effected Aristotle. His eyes had pinned her to her spot with such an intensity she was speechless. Was that what she really thought? She couldn't wait to leave him. Again, his ire had been piqued over her callousness. This really was just an arrangement for her and nothing more. He envied how she could turn off her emotions so easily. He only wished he could do the same.

With the tension so thick, Jacques quickly stepped up to break the silence. "Monsieur, should I prepare rooms for the two men?"

"No." His curt reply caused Evangeline to gasp slightly.

"Why not?" she demanded, stepping out of his hold.

"I don't think I have to explain. They are not welcome here, but I will make sure that they find adequate lodging - in the city."

"Aris!"

He raised his hand to silence her, cutting off her complaint. "Evangeline, we will discuss this later. Now I will go so you can attend to your guests. When they are ready Jacques will take them to town."

With that he stalked away from the hall leaving a baffled Evangeline.


Aristotle had gone for a horse ride to clear his thoughts. He had been in such a rage since the arrival of both her companion and brother. It was fear that had goaded his reaction to them. He was actually afraid of her leaving. What would life be like without Evangeline? He had grown far too used to her. He hated to admit it but he needed her. But how could he want a woman who refused to return his love? Yes, he had never said the words to her, but she had to know. He recalled all the times he had hinted at her to lengthen their arrangement or how he encouraged her to run her business from here. She would always wave him away with one excuse or another. Her primary issue being that she had her own life back home that she refused to let go. She made it seem he was an inconvenience and a bother.

So, why did he still want her? Any other woman would've been cast aside if she had spurned him as Evangeline did. Because he loved her. He foolishly loved her with every fiber of his body. At any given time, he could conjure her image and his heart would swell, his nose would be filled with her scent and his desire would run rampant. Her name fell so easily from his lips and was the sweetest thing to his ears. How could he convince her to stay when she was set on leaving? He pushed his horse into a full gallop, hoping to find the answer.


Aristotle had not returned home. So, Evangeline had decided to escort Como and Rui to the town to see them settled in. She sat in the open-air coach; her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had tried to be a pleasant hostess but it had been so hard. Why was Aristotle being so difficult?

"What troubles you, Eve?" Rui's hand covering hers had snapped her to the present. "Are you not happy to see us?"

She glanced down, trying to frame her thoughts. "I'm so glad to see you. Both of you, but your early arrival has put a damper on what has been a most pleasant escape."

"I take it things have grown rather comfy between you and Monsieur Beavois?" Como observed.

"Very."

"I noticed it immediately. You look so relaxed. Not a hint of the stress you were experiencing back home. Why, even the mention of Arnoldo's name and the unfortunate circumstance had not set you off in a tizzy."

She smiled at her good friend. "I feel so carefree here, Como. It isn't that I do not miss my life back home. But being here has made me feel a sense of freedom I had never felt before. I've had no worries or concerns. My needs are met."

"He's that good?" Como chuckled, earning a stern glare from Rui and a laugh from Evangeline.

Sobering, she settled back into the coach. "Very much so, but I cannot indulge him. My life is back home and I've been spoiled by this life of widowhood that I couldn't possible give up."

"Would you give up your life, if he asked you?" Rui asked, taking his sister's hand.

Evangeline fell silent. Could she? If Aristotle professed his love for her and asked her to stay and marry him, would she do it? Her heart was yelling its affirmation, but her mind was reluctant to follow suit. It meant giving up everything and past transgressions had proven that giving men control of your heart or your life had dire consequences. With that reminder, she knew what was best.

"I'd consider the offer, but ultimately I think I would decline. Even though I'd be greatly disappointed by my own answer."

"My word, Eve, what are you saying?" Como inquired.

She looked at her long time friend. "I find myself far too enchanted by him. An infatuation that far exceeds the one I had for Anwar. I can be my true self with him, but will that self be acceptable in the long run. Will the novelty wear off and he finally realize I am not worth it? Then where will I be? Trapped here, hopelessly in love, on an island with no one to turn to. No escape route. No, I refuse. Better to remove myself before it gets to be too much."

Como leaned over and covered her hand. "I'm afraid it may already be."

Her tear-rimmed eyes glanced up at her old comrade. "I fear you're right."


After assuring the men were well settled in, Evangeline had returned to the villa and was just now entering the dimly lit foyer. Her heart felt so weighted against her chest; the pressure crushing her sunken spirit. Como, Rui and she had shared a beautiful dinner in Thierry's restaurant, where she was able to discuss the business venture further now that her brother was there. They hatched a business strategy that both parties could agree on. Rui had been in agreement that his assistant would love the opportunity to travel across the Atlantic to manage the affairs for them. Once they returned home they would send him along. Thierry would draw up the paper work with his solicitor and have them sent to Evangeline for her approval. Evangeline was pleased that it had worked out, but her heart had been elsewhere during the negotiation. And now, she stood in the foyer wondering what awaited her.

"Are our intruders settled in?" Evangeline glanced over in the direction of the sneer to see Aristotle leaned casually against the open salon doors swishing a glass of rum in his hand. His linen shirt was unbutton at the neck. If the tension had not been so high at the moment, Evangeline would've run into his arms and undid the remaining ones and had her way with him. He looked like such a rake and she found it sexy.

"They are," was her simple reply as she came forward.

Aristotle could feel the heat surge through the hall. Despite the anger he felt, he wanted Evangeline badly. She looked far too fetching in that outfit. He almost lost his nerve, but he had to remember his plan and stick to it.

"And what will they do while they wait around to collect you?"

Evangeline noted his tone was tinged in ice, aloofness. "I'm sure Rui and Como will keep themselves busy with amusements."

"Just as long as they don't ruin mine." He stated pushing away from the door to re-enter the salon, leaving a baffled and insulted Evangeline.

"What does that mean, Aris?" She entered the room, stopping at the door.

"I thought it was obvious, my dear Eve."

She knew it was obvious, she simply didn't like the way it sounded. So, she's a mere amusement, she pondered. Is that what he thinks? Gathering her wits, she knew she was not in the state to battle it out with him. Her emotions were too heightened and exhausted. She turned and left the room.

Aristotle had not anticipated her refusal to take the bait. He had been sure that she would've engaged him. Evangeline had always been so quick and sharp with her replies. This brought on an inexplicable rage in him. She had walked away, dismissed him. Again! Slamming the glass into the fireplace, he ran after her. Evangeline was half way up the stairs, when he snatched her elbow. She fought to get it back, but was not strong enough to break free.

"Does it sting, Evangeline?" he growled.

"No, Aris. It doesn't," was her emotionless reply. Years of practice had taught her to hide her feelings for moments like this. She refused to let Aristotle see how his words had cut her. However, she didn't realize how much it fueled his anger. "I wasn't the confused one here. I know the nature of our arrangement. Fully understand it. In fact, I engineered its boundaries, if you'll recall. Therefore, I'm not the silly one who broke them."


It was Aristotle's turn to be cut; and it was a deep one. She had placed the blame right at his feet, but, then again, she was right on all counts. He had been the one to foolishly fall in love with her. So much so, he couldn't see straight. She had been the consummate professional.

Without a word, he dragged her up the remaining stairs. Evangeline struggled against his grip. "What are you doing?"

"Come, come, Eve, you of all people know where we are at this hour," he sneered without so much as a glance back.

They were usually nestled on the veranda watching the last of the light fade into the night. It was the part of the day she loved best, aside from the lovemaking afterwards. His arms wrapped about her. Their breathing in perfect sync. Anticipation fluttering. He couldn't be suggesting they continue as usual when at the moment it was clear they could not stand one another.

"I suggest we postpone."

He swung her about to face him. His eyes were alight with fury, the bitter opposite to his saccharine tone. "Why, Evangeline? It's merely par for the course, part of the deal. Keep the silly customer happy-"

He didn't expect her hand to sting his cheek. His face had not flinched under the impact and Evangeline refused to show how much her hand smarted from the force of the slap. Despite his dark skin, she could make out the faint imprint lines that her fingers had made in his cheek. Silence resounded through the hall as they just glared at each other, anger and hurt coursing violently in their veins.  It was all too overwhelming. Aristotle wanted to throttle her, but he couldn't. Evangeline wanted to rip his heart out and stomp it like he had done to hers, but she couldn't. Not without feeling the repercussions. In a silent truce, they both stepped back from one another, uncertain. Without another word, they turned their backs on each other and walked away. Sadly, this was only the quiet before the storm.


Days later, Aristotle sat in his study staring out the rainy window at nothing in particular. Rivulets squiggled against the pane as three empty rum bottles lay strewn across his desk. Since that night, he had not seen or heard Evangeline. She was up before he was and out of the house most of the day. The whole house was sullen. The servants avoided him at all cost unless summoned to fetch him a new bottle of rum or whiskey. Jacques had tried to get him out of his mood by suggesting he see Jean, but he refused and had ousted the man from his study.

He was inconsolable in his melancholy. All he wanted to do was make love to his Evangeline, not war with her. It was his hurt pride that had made him say all those awful things; his fear of her leaving him. But he was spiting himself by not cherishing the last moments he had with her. But he had his pride and would not fall prey to a heartless woman. The sound of the door closing caught his attention. Rising from his chair, he made his way toward the sound.  He peered around the corner and saw who had come in. His heart stopped.

She looked ravishing, despite being soaked to the bone. Her unbound hair was dripping wet and her clothes were plastered to her curvy frame. Had she not realized a storm was coming? His body began to betray him. It had been too long since last he had loved her, touched her. He needed her to assuage this awful pain.

"Madame Evangeline!" Jacques scolded.

"I am awfully sorry, Jacques. It seems I had not been paying attention and had left without a parasol or hat. Had I known this storm had been brewing I would've stayed in."

"I will have Francois send up a soup for you."

"Thank you." She mounted the stairs to her room as Jacques left for the kitchen.

Aristotle entered the foyer then glanced up the stairs she had just vacated. He couldn't possibly think to follow her? Was he insane? Yet, there he was following suit after the woman. It was like he was fighting his conscious. His feet were slow to move, dragged along the carpet behind the wet barefoot marks she had left. He stood before her door now, his breath hastening at the anticipation of feeling her. Trying the door, he was relieved to find it unlocked. Pushing it ajar, he glanced about looking for his quarry. When he located her, his heart stilled for the second time in his chest.

She had already stripped out of her clothes and was standing before the mirror, giving him a dual view of her back and her front. She was beautiful. Her breasts fuller than usual sat temptingly on her chest, accentuating the swell of her hips and backside. Her skin and hair looked softer, silkier. He itched to touch them both; to feel his hand glide over their richness. He pushed the door further and stepped in. She had not heard his approach, was lost in her own thoughts.

Suddenly, she whipped around and met his intense gaze. He looked terrible, haggard; the image of her insides. She was certain their were bags under her eyes; her concealing powder was sure to have been washed away by the storm. No words exchanged between them. They simply stared at one another; unspoken feelings transferring in the space between them. Then it hit like a match strike. Aristotle wrapped his arms about her waist and drew her to him. His lips claiming hers, devouring them like a starving man.

Evangeline was caught up in the feelings that surrounded her. She had missed him; his body. She had contemplated going to his room last night but had chastised herself for the thought. Even now, she was disappointed in herself for relenting to him, for being tempted into a tryst. If an amusement was all he wanted then he could take it and be done with it.

Aristotle began to venture down her neck leaving hot trails of passion in his wake. She fought hard against her feelings and the tingles forming on her body. The sensations had been missed terribly these last days. Her traitorous body wanted him, proven more so by the pooling in her inner thighs. As if scorched, she gasped when his hot lips encircled a tender nipple and began to suckle. The fire spread from there as he pushed her back onto the bed. His hands laced with hers drawing them above her head. His body rubbed hers, causing a delicious friction all over her. He let go for a moment to shed his clothing, tossing them every which way.

He returned to her lips nibbling their softness, drawing Evangeline further into the spell. "Oh, Eve, I've needed you," he admitted.

Hearing those words pricked at her heart, because it was his fault. He was the one who had denied them both. Suddenly, the anger crawled in to quell her passion. "It's not I that kept you from your - amusements."

Her words, more like his own, stilled him. It was a bitter taste of his own folly that choked him. Once again, her knife had jabbed deep and turned for good measure into his heart. He raised up on his elbows to stare down at her, meeting that cool arrogance he so hated. It was chilling and, instead of deflating his desire, it enraged it. Evangeline felt him stab her core mercilessly with his manhood, but she hadn't flinched, merely excepted it. Like swords drawn against one another, in and out, he rammed his angry organ into her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react. They just stared at one another coldly. Neither one gave an inch.

The minutes ticked away before finally a disgusted Aristotle rolled away from her. In a flash, he had gotten up, swooped up his clothes and left, slamming the door for good measure. Evangeline just stared up at the netting on her bed. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes pensive. It wasn't long before she regained feeling again. Finally, the pain bubbled to the surface breaking the iciness of her face with tears. Rolling onto her side, she cried herself to sleep. What had she done?

Aris and Evangeline - The Dinner Party

After returning from their ride, Evangeline entered the kitchen to assess what was available. The women and cook were surprised by her presence. With a few kind words, she was able to convince them to allow her intrusion on their domain. Dressed in an old skirt and peasant blouse, she went to work on the menu. The women were shocked when she had gone out to the chicken coop and nabbed herself a plump hen, broke its neck then plucked its feathers, all without help. She had raided Aristotle's wine cellar, which she was most impressed by, retrieving a good red wine to cook with. The cook was impressed by her selection of seasonings and how she marinated the bird in oranges and wine.

The smells rising from the stove had drawn other servants. As she whipped the potatoes and sauteed the vegetables, Evangeline carried on a lively conversation with the servants. They told jokes and kept one another splendid company. She had even made enough for the whole house to enjoy, which everyone did. At one point, she had beg Jacques to pick up some passion fruit for her dessert. The valet was puzzled by the request for the particular fruit, but quickly made a journey down the road, where a neighbor grew the fruit.

She went to work cutting them in halves then scraping and mashing the fruit. The glorious aroma did things to the senses of all around, which made Evangeline giggle in delight. The cook stole a taste of the mixture and almost fell to the floor in ecstasy.

"Madame Montiero, what is in this concoction? It is decadent yet light," the man demanded.

"Just fruit and cream - with a hint of lust."

They all laughed merrily as she scooped some into a small, decorative serving bowl with a garnish of strawberries and sliced passion fruit. She gazed at her lavish menu and nodded her approval. The servants all agreed her hard work had yielded perfection.

"We have the rest, Madame. Go on and dress for dinner." Jacques encouraged helping her from her apron.

"What? You don't find this a fitting assemble for dinner."

"I'm sure Monsieur Beauvois will not notice what you have on with this lavish meal before him, but you will."

"Ah, you know me well, Jacques." With that, Evangeline ran out of the kitchen.


Aristotle sat at the table, staring at the food before him. It seemed endless. Here he had been under the mistaken impression that he would get a simple meal, but no, he had underestimated his Evangeline. She had gone the distance by supplying him a bounty. Servant after servant brought in trays layered with all kinds of dishes. Aside from the chicken, she had made fish paired with a bed of saffron rice. Potatoes and vegetables in every shade and cut. He eyed Jacques suspiciously, who simply smiled at his employer as each plate was laid before him.

"Jacques, who helped with-"

"Not a single servant. Madame Montiero was like a hurricane in the kitchen. All these dishes are her doing." He assured the man. Suddenly, a knock at the door resounded taking the valet away. He returned moments later with Eloise and Jean in tow. Both stared wide eyed at the table, then they met Aristotle's confused look, which quickly turned on Jacques demanding explanation.

"Well, since she had gone overboard in the kitchen, she decided you would need help. Excuse me."

Eloise came over to greet the disgruntled Aristotle. "Oh, let it go, Aris. She meant well."

"Apparently, that isn't what has Aristotle in a tizzy." Jean observed taking a seat by his friend. It seemed their serious argument had quickly faded to the background per usual. "I take it she hasn't relented. In fact, she's deflecting."

Aristotle glared daggers at his soon to be ousted guest.

"What do you mean, Jean?" Eloise demanded also taking her seat across from her husband.

"It means Captain Monroe is far more astute than Monsieur Beauvois."

Everyone turned to stare at the visage of beauty coming through the doors. Evangeline had donned a lovely dark violet sleeveless gown of the richest satin that molded to her frame gorgeously. Her long hair was pulled atop of her head allowing it to spill down her back in spirally curls. Upon her ears and neck were a matching set of blazing and twinkling diamonds and amethyst stones, which lightened the color of her eyes seductively. Both men were enthralled by her ethereally wicked look. Eloise was beside herself with awe.

"Evangeline, you look stunning." She gushed. "Had I known I would've-"

Evangeline tsked the woman before she went any further. "Believe me, I'm kicking myself for not keeping on my peasant's garb."

Eloise giggled understanding her drift all too clearly. "Now, what is this that I hear you cooked this lavish meal?"

"Every morsel. So please, enjoy." Evangeline's eyes lit on Aristotle.

He was handsomely attired in his dark, dinner jacket. His hair had been freshly plaited gleaming against the candle light. His look was priceless. He was annoyed, but hard pressed to say anything with their guests present. Evangeline settled into her chair. She could feel the heat of his stare. There wasn't complete anger, lust lurked beneath the surface as well.

Dinner was lovely and lively. Jean mercilessly teased his friend, while Eloise and Evangeline exchanged cooking and style tips. The time had simply passed with no one the wiser until a loud slam drew their notice. All eyes turned toward the dinning room doors as the slow click of footsteps tightened the air in the room. Eloise grew very uncomfortable. Evangeline noticed and grew increasingly miffed that her guest should be made to feel this way. Jean's hands had balled into a fist. He was no more happy with the new arrival than anyone else. Even Aristotle was on edge. What terror would she bring to the table?

"Well, well. A dinner party. How lovely." Madeline sneered slithering into the room unwelcomed.

"It's a small affair, Maddy." Aristotle hinted firmly.

"Oh. Is it?" She sauntered closer to Jean, running a finger along his shoulder, which he stiffly plucked away. Her eyes flitted from each person before she took a seat directly next to Jean. The twit was determined to make a scene. Evangeline glanced at Aristotle pointedly, but he was too concerned with the trouble brewing beside him.

"How are you, Jean? I see you're still with your cow."

Eloise flushed angrily, but stayed mum. Jean was furious on his wife's behalf, but dared not do anything for fear of Madeline's retaliation.

"Better a pristine lady than a withering whore."

Gasps circled the room and turned toward the head of the table. But Evangeline's eyes were locked with Madeline's. She knew what the girl was about, had seen the play one too many times. She needed to draw her barbs to her to deflect from the couple.

"And you would know, Madame Montiero."

"If you think so, Madeline. But at least I have had the good sense to keep track of my lovers."

"Evangeline." The growl surfaced from the other side of the table drawing everyone's eyes to Aristotle.

Madeline immediately used it. "I told you, Aris. She keeps attacking me unprovoked."

"You wouldn't know an attack unless it slept with you."

The barb caused Eloise to burst in laughter, which drew Madeline's notice. Fire sparked in her dark eyes. Evangeline cringed and tried desperately to draw her back, but it was too late. Madeline grabbed for the nearest utensil, a knife, and was about to do damage when long fingers wrapped about her wrist firmly. She followed them to their owner and met with the fierce glare of Jean Monroe. He seethed angry, but controlled himself. Squeezing her wrist painfully, he forced the chit to drop the silverware.

"Eloise, let us go. The time grows late and my patience grows thin." His voice was strained, holding back the rage. A deathly threat spoke volumes behind his words as he rose to collect his wife. Never taking his eyes off Madeline, who had lost all color in her pallor, he bid everyone goodnight. "Aristotle, I'll see you tomorrow at the docks."

"First thing." Aristotle answered staring at his sister with brotherly concern and chastisement. The air had grown increasingly stuffier. Evangeline had watched the play of emotions on Madeline's face. She had gone from spitting harlot to brokenhearted school girl in mere minutes. Did the girl still carry a torch for Monroe? Had she realized she'd gone too far tonight with threatening the woman who holds his heart? No wonder the girl was bitter. Mistakes were hard to swallow.

Jacques came into the salon with the servants to clear the dishes and trays. The remaining occupants seemed frozen staring at one another. Evangeline knew Madeline was not through yet. She had felt slighted, maligned and she wanted vengeance. She was more than prepared, but was Aristotle. Madeline's eyes drew to Evangeline's and the fire sparked again.

"This is all your fault!"

"Really? And please tell me how it is." Evangeline swished her wine waiting for her answer.

"Aristotle knows Jean is not allowed anywhere near my son."

"Do you even know where your son is?" Evangeline countered leaning closer.

The girl sputtered furiously. "I want her removed, Aristotle. I'm your sister, she's just some slut from a backward island-"

Suddenly, the slap that came sent the girl flying to the floor clutching her cheek. Aristotle looked at his sister then Evangeline who towered over her with fury in her eyes. "Maybe everyone else will take your foolishness, but I'm cut of a different cloth. I've withstood your calling me a slut for the last time. Especially since you know nothing about me or my past. You've played the philandering victim for far too long. I know your type. Seen your kind one too many times. And the story gets old. You sell yourself to the highest bidder, sucking the poor fellow dry with wants and needs, then come crying to brother dear to take care of you when they cast you out on your ass once they've tired of you."

With each barb, Evangeline had drawn closer to Madeline, forcing the girl to scoot back across the floor. "You have a beautiful son whom you are jealous of because he is loved by all despite having come from you. In your spite, you give the boy a name that clearly is a dig to the real father and insult to the fake one. What's worse is you still fancy yourself in love with the father when he could careless if you live or die, because he's in love with a woman who truly loves him as he deserves. And that just makes you even more bitter. What's more they would make far better parents to your boy than you, since clearly you find him a nuisance and a bother. Have I pretty much summed it up?"

Evangeline had Madeline backed up in a corner staring wide eyed at her. She had laid out all her sins and faults at her feet. Something that had never been done before. True, her mother had nagged her constantly about her path and her brother had tried to curb her, but something in what the woman said painted an awful picture of her life. "Here's a bit of advice, Maddy, that was once bestowed on me: If you don't crawl out of this pit of drudgery and disillusionment you've fallen into you, you are going to wake up cold, alone and bitter. Your looks will be useless. Your brain will fail you. And your asking price will be worthless. Now, if that doesn't scare you, you truly are hopeless."

With that said Evangeline stormed from the room without so much as a backwards glance. Tears streamed down the young woman's face. She was well and truly wounded. She sheepishly turned her eyes toward Aristotle who was staring at the empty doorway. Sliding back up the wall, she attempted to straighten the wrinkles in her dress.

"Aristotle, I will be leaving for mama's in the morning." Her voice was a mere whisper as she slowly walked to the door. "I think I need time there."

"I think that is wise, Madeline." He agreed still staring at the doorway, now filled with his sister.

"I am sorry." She stated before disappearing out the room, leaving Aristotle to ponder Evangeline's words.


Evangeline paced the veranda like a pent up animal. The fury choked at her throat. She had never wanted to throttle someone so much. Stopping in her tracks, she leaned against the railing to catch her breath. Memories had come flooding back. She had been in pretty much the same state as Madeline; balled into a corner, holding her cheek and her wounded pride. Senora Amelia Volta had given her the throttling of a lifetime that night. She had been her idol, had taken her under her wing, teaching her how to be a lady, a courtesan. But when she had met Anwar her senses had flown and she had begun to act out foolishly. She had turned schemer, manipulator and spurned her mentor's stern advice until one day she had gone too far.

Amelia had been dead set against Evangeline's plot to get with child to keep Anwar. She knew Anwar's type: seduce a foolish girl, treat her like she was the only one, then leave her with the baggage. Amelia knew because she had her son, Sharif, as evidence of her foolishness. She had wanted to spare her. So, she taught Evangeline a harsh lesson. She'd seduced Anwar into her bed with the express purpose of having Evangeline catch her. She wanted her to understand she meant nothing to the cad and never would. Evangeline and she had fought mercilessly, but the older woman had won out that night and had dispensed the same advice to her that she had given Madeline. Only later did she recall Amelia's other warning.

"Evangeline, you are far too smart and far too beautiful to allow a man to ruin you," she'd scolded. "For now, enjoy them like toys and desserts - in moderation. One day, you will encounter a man who will be your contemporary and you'll want to grow old with him. Just don't be too stupid to pass him by, because of what you've seen of these fools."

Those words echoed in her head as she stared into the moonlight above. Was this what she was doing with Aristotle? Was she foolishly lumping him in with the likes of Anwar and Arnoldo? The hour had grown far too late and the chill of the night crept into her bones. As she crossed her arms, another stronger set embraced her. His scent quickly filled her nose, making her dizzy with desire. She had not heard him approach for she had been so deep in her thoughts, but now, she was fully aware of him. The strains of the clock in the hall faintly drifted to her ears echoing midnight. The new day had come.

"Madeline will be leaving for the country tomorrow."

"Aris, I apologize for overstepping my bounds."

He lifted a hand to her lips to quiet her next words. "For years I had been trying to help my sister, but I guess you were right. I was simply sheltering her, allowing her to get away with murder." He pushed back a strand from her face. "That was some tough advice you threw at her."

"A wise courtesan had imparted them to me." She sighed, clutching the lapels of his coat. "I've lived my life by them every since."

He leaned into her, forcing her to rest against the granite, his arms pinning her on both sides. "The new day has come."

"You heard that did you," she chuckled, leaning closer.

He nodded slowly. His lips grazed her neck, sending shivers down her back. His fingers traced the line of her spine, drawing her body closer to his. "I believe this is on par with our agreement."

She smiled that smile he loved as her arms wrapped about his neck. Aristotle, not wanting to waste a moment, swooped her into his arms and brought her back inside. Evangeline's eyes noted the serving bowl of dessert sitting on the nightstand. She raised a curious brow toward him.

"Aris, why is there a bowl of the maracuya there?"

Scooping a bit on his fingertip, he traced the concoction across her lips, then licked it off with his tongue. "My dear, Eve, I was so very impressed with this treat that I could not resist having more."

His fingers worked deftly on the hooks at her back, removing them with ease, along with her underthings. Within minutes, Evangeline had been stripped of her finery and stood naked and unabashed before him. Her body was a work of art in its nude state. From the sexy curvature of her back to the fullness of her bosom and buttocks to the lengthiness of her limbs, she was perfection - and his - for now.

He hoisted the bowl into his hand, dipping a long finger into the cream. He planted a dollop on each of her pert nipples; the coolness making Evangeline tingle. Then he began to create an interesting pattern of the mixture all over her body, leaving her to imagine just where he would start his journey. Once he had been satisfied, he turned her about to survey his handiwork.

"Now, that's a treat," he commented moving from side to side admiring her.

"I assume you will be cleaning me up."

He nodded his head, smirking wickedly. "Oh, I'll clean you up. Gladly."

He stepped back and started to remove his clothes, slowly; his eyes never leaving Evangeline's. They revealed so much in their dark depths. Pent up passion. Lust long denied. Unrequited desire. They caressed her more than his hand had just now. This was what a day without sex with this man was like? she pondered.  How would she fair when she went home? She cringed thinking about it and quickly pushed the thought aside.

She could feel her body respond to the sight of his nakedness. He was the perfect specimen of male. His broad shoulders were her favorite. They appeared to be strong enough to lift the world upon them. The intricate details of the muscles running down his arms and into his hands were a sculptor's paradise. His hips were lean, but his thigh muscles were bugling putting his manhood on blatant display. All this was covered in the richest dark skin she'd ever seen. Satin in appearance yet tough like soft leather. She loved running her fingers and tongue over it again and again, taking in the spicy smells and taste.

He moved closer to her, tightening the knot of anticipation in her belly. Would his hand or tongue touch her first? Her tingles grew stronger as she felt his breath flutter over her sensitive skin. He reached for her hair and rubbed it between his fingers examining each strand like it was spun gold. Her locks were like no other. It was vibrant and alive with earthly and heavenly tones that always smelled perfumed in fresh flower petals. He leaned in to inhale the scent, his chest heaving upward, drawing her admiring eye.

Unable to resist, Evangeline spread her fingers across his pecs taking in the muscles beneath. Her thumbs flicked over his already tightened nipples, which made her hungry for a taste. But just as she leaned in, Aristotle had coiled her hair about his hand, holding her prone. She glanced up with confusion, but was blown away by the look in his eyes. There was determination firmly set in them, a deep longing that tightened her throat. It was so intense, it stilled her heart.

"Tonight, you are not allowed to touch or taste," he ordered.

She smiled slowly. "Really now."

"Oh, yes. And if I have to, I will tie you down."

Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel a flood of desire pool between her thighs. "I guess I have no recourse but to comply."

He nodded sternly as he lowered his head to her breasts and licked the cream concoction covering her nipples. She flinched in pleasure. His tongue had been a jolt, soothed quickly when his lips surrounded the bud. The suckling motion drew Evangeline onto a cloud. Her breathing stilted with each twirl of his tongue. She tried her hardest not to wrap her arms about him, but it was growing harder by the second. He soon abandoned the first breast for the second and repeated the same treatment, tightening the coil further.

"Aris." Her raspy breath touched his skin as he wrapped his arms about her. The tips of his plaits grazed her skin like extra fingers. It felt so exquisite. Soon, she was hoisted up, her hands falling to her sides, fighting not to reach for him. He laid her across the bed gingerly. Glancing down her body, her eyes drew to his apex and the rigid beast waiting there. Her mouth watered forcing her to swallow hard on the need to taste it. It was the worst temptation. Seeing her longing made Aristotle smile.

"Hungry, Eve?"

She rested her head back staring up at the netting over the bed. "Very," she sighed wistfully.

He leaned over, nudging at the base of her breast. His tongue began a torturous path down her body, lapping up the cream. Each rib bone was treated to his attention as he wiped them clean before he dipped into the hollow of her drenched navel. Her hands immediately reached for him only to be locked up by his.

"Eve." He purred in warning forcing a frustrated sigh from her lips.

At last, he had reached her slick alcove covered in a thick sheen of desire. He inhaled the sent deeply, savoring her essence before going in for a sip. Evangeline's moan was music to his ears. He loved that she appreciated his efforts. Her thighs splayed further apart yielding the bloom of her clit. His tongue darted quickly over it, causing her hips to rise in response. She'd been scorched and wanted more.

"Oh, Aris. You'll undo me."

"That is my every intention." He blew softly on the folds making her body shiver before dipping back in for a better taste. He ran his randy tongue over the hot, swollen lips tempting them to the edge. He gently nipped them inciting tremors in her legs. He would not make the mistake he had made in the townhouse. His fingers were firmly laced around her wrists and he could feel her wresting against the bonds. "You won't be able to tempt me this time, Evangeline."

She moaned in protest as she tried to pull her wrists free. She didn't want to beg, had never needed to in the past. In practically no time, Aristotle had learned all her pleasure zones and used them to his advantage. A feat that would have taken her usual lovers months to discover. She reveled in both his gentle and rough play. The way his hands explored her body, unveiling new and more sensitive locations that wrung passion from her. He knew how to cherish her and that's what scared her. Almost without any effort he could claim her heart and she'd be helpless to resist. Amelia's words echoed in her head again, but she refused to give them credence. A delicious tremor ran through her body when his tongue penetrated her depths, forcing her head to rear back allowing a tortured moan to fall out her mouth. Soon, her hips gyrated against it, substituting it for the real thing.

"Aristotle, please!" She strained more against her bonds.

He yanked her forward, twirling her about to face away from him. His lips rested against her ears, licking the lobes. "I'm sorry, Evangeline, but I find I cannot resist you in this state."

She squirmed against his body, rubbing her buttocks against his member. His stomach stiffened from the contact and he gently bit down on her shoulder to quell the groan in his throat. Lifting her up, he sat down on the bed behind her, cradling her in front of him. Her head fell back against his shoulders seeking his lips, but he denied her. Still holding her wrists captive he used them to spread her thighs apart, draping them over his own outstretched one. She arched her back in pleasure, feeling the cool air touch her drenched bare skin down there. Aristotle watched her writhe before him, loving each sway of her frame.

"What would you like me to do, Evangeline?" he rasped against her ears.

"Let me touch you."

"I'm sorry. I cannot do that."

She tried pounding her fists in frustration but his fingers gave no leverage to her. "Then touch me."

"Where?" he implored in a hush whisper.

She swallowed hard. He would make her say it, wanted to hear her say it. He was wicked. She could already feel the hollow swell further, feel the maelstrom of juice spill. "There," she pleaded drawing his hands to her quim.

Without releasing her wrist, his finger grazed across the fold. "Here?"

A hiss sizzled between her teeth. "Yes!"

"And how about here?" The finger grazed the other fold, causing her to bite down on her lip to stifle a cry.

She nodded in response. Tears of pleasure stung her golden eyes. He was torturing her and she was loving every second of it. Raising his knees up, he stretched her further apart, drawing their hands further down.

"I think I know exactly where you want to be touched," he deduced seductively before plunging his long finger deep within her. "Here."

A strained whimper bounced about the room as Evangeline fought the tremors racking her body. His name fell from her lips in rapid succession as he plunged again and again into her body adding another finger, varying the speeds to catch her hips rhythm.

"Scream for me, Eve."

She couldn't stop if she tried and he relished it like a well sung opera. His eyes could not stop watching her. His heart had swelled hearing her echo his name. His fingers could feel the strains of her inner muscles milking them, crushing the bones. He wanted to feel that on another member. Lifting her slightly, he filled her silken hollow with his rigid flesh, stretching more ecstasy into her. His cheek rubbed against her back, savoring the feeling of her quivering flesh against his.

"Ah, Evangeline." He sighed as he gently bounced her up and down upon his manhood.

Pressure began to build once again in her, intensifying the tingles tenfold. It was barely minutes before she could feel herself shattering again, moaning her pleasures. "Oh God, Aris, please don't stop. Take me over."

Pushing her forward onto her knees, he pummeled her recesses. She could feel the smoothness of his rod as it probed her depths, teasing the tiny bud. His fingers coiled in her hair, tugging it out of the way so he could kiss her neck. "I don't think I can grow tired of you, Evangeline."

"I believe we are far too imaginative, Aris," she panted as her hips ground against him. Suddenly,  they both caught a rhythm and the strains of passion possessed them, filling them. Aristotle unleashed a roar equal to the one Evangeline had given earlier and they fell exhausted against the mattress. He quickly pulled her onto his chest, letting her hair drape over them. His hand ran over the dampened curls while his eyes stared up at the ceiling.

A long, sated sigh escaped them both. Evangeline perked her head up on her hands to stare at the pensive Aristotle. "I find it harder and harder to resist you, Aris," she admitted, tracing his jawbone.

"Enough to renegotiate for a year rather than five months?" he asked with all seriousness.

This gave her pause. What he was asking her could not be fulfill. She was already in danger of loosing her heart to him with just the five months he'd demanded. If she were here a year she would never want to leave. "Aristotle, I can't."

He cradled her head in his hands. "Why not?"

"I have my own life. You can't expect me to abandon it because we can't control ourselves."

"You can have all these things here."

"And give up my life, my things there? It's just like a man to think that way." Evangeline rose from the bed to retrieve her robe in the wardrobe.

Aristotle gritted his teeth. "I would not deny you your independence, Eve. Why are you so afraid to take a chance?"

"Afraid?" she guffawed. "I'm not afraid. I'm appalled. You lay there expecting me to give up my life as if nothing I have is important and without any regard to my feelings, expecting me to come here and be just another pretty face. I'm a business woman with important ties back home that need my attention. Why not give up your life? You can gun run from anywhere in the world or whatever it is you do. If anyone's afraid, sir, it's you."

Aristotle laughed. "Evangeline, it's simply not done. Now, I find it fascinating that you do handle your late husband's affairs and businesses, but I'm sure once you settle down-"

"I don't plan to settle down." She crossed her arms over her chest to glare at him.

This gave him pause. "Surely you'd want to remarry and have children."

"Children would be nice, but I don't plan to ever marry again."

Why did that declaration bother him so much? True, he wasn't proposing marriage to her, but hearing her say she had no intention of remarrying had been a punch to the gut. "Why is that?" his curiosity piqued.

"There my reasons alone," Evangeline stated firmly, looking away. "I think you should go, Aris."

"No." It was a flat refusal, which brought her temper to the forefront.

"Leave!"

He rose off the bed quicker than she had anticipated to grip her upper arms firmly. "That may have worked the last time, but this time it won't. Now, I plan to get back into that bed with you, so that I can actually wake up with you in my arms rather than a cold empty bed."

Something in his last words had touched her, abating the anger she had felt from their conversation. See, this was the very reason she could not let him get close to her. She became irrational and her emotions put her in a tizzy. They would need to reset the boundaries, but not tonight. She'd much rather go with his plan. So, without another word, she allowed Aristotle to lead her back to bed, then snuggled close to him, listening to the pounding of his heart until sleep came to her.

Aris and Evangeline - Sins and Vexations

Aristotle sat in Jean's study tipping back rum like water as he paced his carpet like a caged lion. He was highly vexed. So much so, he felt like running back home to throttle the very cause of this rage. How dare she? That harlot. She could easily take what he gave and make it meaningless. Was she that cold? Was she that disenchanted? He played back their afternoon in his head. The passion she'd yield. The mutual pleasure they'd shared. The feelings she had wroth from his body. It had rocked his very core. It still did. She had to be a devil, a witch.

"You're going to wear a hole in that carpet and Eloise is going to be furious," Jean teased with a smile, reaching for his own glass.

"Beg her forgiveness on my behalf." Aristotle fell into the chair spent.

"What has you so angry?"

"Her?"

"Oh. Her." Jean smirked behind his glass. "What has she done to you?"

"I can't explain it, Jean. She's a witch. A woman capable of turning on passion like a lit match and then extinguishing it like a rushing breath. She's evil."

Jean chuckled at his friend's consternation. "Mon ami, you've just been spoiled by women. They see you and fall helplessly in love with you. She's experienced. She doesn't have to settle for one man since she's already got the title of widow. A young one at that."

"She excites me."

"I have no doubt."

"She challenges me."

"Indeed."

"I'm obsessed with her and I've only know the woman barely two days."

"It will wear off," Jean assured. "She's new and a bit of challenge. That makes her even more intriguing. The woman has the right idea. Follow her lead."

"How?"

"For one thing, cut her cold. You say she won't sleep with you on Sundays?" At his nod, Jean laughed still not believing that tidbit. "Well, don't appear on her doorstep until Wednesday. If she's as lusty as you say she is, then she's bound to cave."

Aristotle pondered his words seriously. The trouble was could he do it? "I don't know who that spites more. Her or me?" At that, Jean burst out laughing at his old friend's expense.


Midnight struck on the clock in the hall. The chimes resounded throughout the house, dying just outside Evangeline's bedroom. She had had quite the trouble falling into a slumber. Beating her pillow and tossing the sheets to and fro were just some of the methods she had tried. She was frustrated. All evening she had dealt battle with herself. Not even the respite of Madeline's rudeness could alleviate the dilemmas prancing about in her head. Some of it was guilt at rebuffing his advances in the carriage. They had been having such a lovely day with one another. But Evangeline could not let well enough alone. She had to destroy this... what?

It wasn't as if Aristotle had professed love for her. Good Lord, it had only been two days. The man wasn't that much a fool. Then why rebuff him? It was her. She was the trouble. This afternoon in the townhouse had been far more than she had anticipated. He had stirred feelings deep with her that should not rise. She had no time for such commitments or follies. Men were good for only one thing, ensuring her pleasure. She was rich, powerful and respected. She no longer needed to whore herself out to feed herself or protect her brothers. The only love she'd ever known was that of her parent's.

She remembered how they used to kiss when they thought no one was watching. Or how her mother's eyes sparkled when he came into the room. That was love - pure and true. Sadly, that sparkle vanished when her father died. The blush of her mother's cheeks had dissolved to paleness at the heartbreak. Her mother was never the same. Evangeline simply refused to let any man do that to her. Anwar had come close, but upon closer inspection she had suffered a serious child's crush on the man. It was not true and definitely wasn't pure. So what was different about Aristotle?

He never seemed appalled by her past dealings. He'd listened to her stories without placing judgement or common opinion. He allowed her to be comfortable in his world. He also made her giddy. She could admit she had been foolish with her rebuff. Now, at least. However, it was a necessary evil. She could lose her heart very easily to this man. With that thought, she'd sighed wearily until sleep had finally took her.

Shaky, unbalanced footsteps crept through the hall. Aristotle tried his hardest to keep quiet, despite his drunkenness. Jean had offered him the guest room but he'd refused with the excuse of a meeting in the morning. There was no meeting, he really wanted to see his Evangeline. He stumbled into a statue nearly toppling it from its perch. Shushing the inanimate object, he proceeded down the dark hall. Jacques usually met him downstairs to help him to bed on nights like this, but with the late hour, the valet probably assumed he had taken Jean's offer.

At first, he had every intention of passing Evangeline's door to go to his room without a single thought. Stupidity, however, had him standing before her door like a lovesick puppy. His clumsy fingers reached for the knob and grinned when he found it unlocked. Opening the door wide, he made out the curvy frame in the bed. Already his manhood swelled. How was this vixen capable of such trickery even in her sleep?

Stumbling forward, he proceeded to remove his clothes, tossing them to the floor carelessly. His blurry, red shot eyes focused in on his prey. He gripped himself like a sword and leaped back and forth like a skilled fencer. Yes, he would slay this witch and her wretched spells. Chuckling to himself, he continued on with Evangeline none the wiser to his antics. Finally, reaching the bed, he tried to mount it, but found his legs could not move or cooperate. So, he stared down at her in her peaceful slumber. Her lush lips were parted, inviting. Her breathing was steady and rhythmic, like the lulls of the waves. She was absolutely stunning with her hair tousled about her. His fingers grazed her cheek, tracing their smoothness about her brow bone. He leaned down to kiss her, when her eyes opened pinning him. Surprised registered, then great annoyance.

"Aristotle, what do you think you are doing?"

Slurring his words, he straightened up giving Evangeline full view of his half erect manhood. "You tempt me even in sleep, Eve. And how dare you be cross with me when you're the reason I'm in this state, silly girl?"

Recognizing his inebriated state, Evangeline knew she could not toy with him. Drunks were a hazard she had known all to well. Mustering up resolve, she put aside her annoyance with him for now. She rose from the bed and gently took his arm.

"Then let us retire to your room, where you will be comfortable and far from my wickedness."

"No, I wish to have me. I mean, you wish to have you. Wait, that's not right either."

Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle. He was a silly drunk. This eased her tension a bit. "But, Aris, who said I wouldn't oblige you, but you see it is most unfortunate. I've started my time and we simply cannot-"

"Oh, say no more." He waved away trying to swim to the door taking the lie for truth. "I want nothing to do with your womanly machinations."

Evangeline had to bite her lips to keep from laughing aloud. He should have recalled from this afternoon she had not been in such a state, but men were clueless to a woman's condition. "That is very kind of you, Aris. Now, let's get you to bed."

Resigned to leave, Aristotle began to teeter toward the door. Then he rocked back, taking her with him. "No, I will stay here!"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. No, wait, I do know, because it's my damn house and I can sleep wherever I wish and if I wish to sleep in your bed, then so be it." With that he marched over to the bed and fell on it, leaving a shocked and appalled Evangeline at the door.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she closed the door quietly, and picked up his rumpled clothes from the floor and placed them on the bench. Aristotle had fallen face forward across bed. Evangeline attempted to move him into the right position. With some shoving and tugging, she accomplished the task, then crawled in next to him. His back was to her, so she'd given him hers. Then suddenly, he flipped over, dropping his hefty arm on her side rendering her breathless. In the same motion, he pulled her flush to his frame. His head rested above hers and she could hear the smooth strains of sleep claim him. Nestling further into the embrace, Evangeline did much of the same.


The bright sun pierced through the slits of Aristotle's blood shot eyes, forcing him to squint against it. Lifting his head slightly, he gazed about the room. Somewhere in the distance he heard humming. Then suddenly he remembered where he was and how he got there. Good Lord, what had he done? Grabbing the empty sheets next to him, he tried to verify the body next to his. Where was she? The humming. He sat up quickly only to fall back from the rushing pain to his skull.

"Oh, are we awake?" Evangeline teased coming toward the foot of the bed. She was dressed in her Sunday best and was adjusting a pearl stud as she watched him agonize his aching head.

"Barely." He rasped through the thickness in his throat. He took in her appearance through the slits of his fingers. "Where are you off to this early?"

"Jacques has pointed me toward his family church and I plan to take it in," she stated firmly grabbing her purse and Bible.

"You were serious?" He winced with pain from the exclamation which made her chuckle richly.

"The old man had a thing about church and so the habit stuck," she admitted. "Besides you meet your best business partners in the church yard. Furthermore Jacques said the church was beautiful and my interest was piqued."

She could barely make out the disbelieving glint from under his shielding hand. Shrugging she made her way to the door. She looked utterly fetching in her assemble of pale yellow and cream. The woman never ceased to amaze him with her style. He remembered the way the men in the restaurant had gazed at her, drooling. She'd no doubt cause the same stir at the church with her presence. Something about that didn't sit well with Aristotle. In fact, he didn't like it at all. Swooping the sheets back, he stumbled out of bed.

"Evangeline! Wait!"

Evangeline had just made it to the stairs when she heard Aristotle's booming voice. Then she watched as his naked form came bolting down the hall. She stifled a laugh when he came to stop before her.

"I'm coming with you."

"Not like that you are." Her eyes drifted downward, which made the large man aware of his state.

"Wait for me in the carriage." He called back as he ran to his room holding his head.

Evangeline finally let out the laugh before descending the stairs. Jacques had already called the coach around for her. Now, what had gotten under his skin to make him want to attend church? The ways things had gone yesterday evening she was sure he would avoid her with all haste. Not that she wasn't glad for it, since she had behaved rather poorly herself.

"So the slut is up already."

Evangeline closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Oh, that's right, Madeline. She turned to see the girl sashay down the steps in a satin robe. "You must've beat me to it."

"Don't think I've forgotten our discourse from yesterday."

"I was trying to. I must thank you for the reminder."

"So, where are you off to?"

"Church."

Suddenly, Madeline burst out laughing at the answer as if it was the best joke she'd ever heard. Evangeline stood unmoved by the clear insult. "They'd actually allow a harlot like you in."

"At least I can walk in without bursting into flames," Evangeline countered quieting the girl.

"I have no need for such trivialities."

"I'm sure the Lord thanks you for sparing his time. Makes his job easier."

Madeline pouted. The bitch had a rejoinder for everything. Her wit could cut like a knife. "You best watch yourself, whore."

"Or what?"

Madeline was about to respond, when Jean-Pierre came down the stairs. He threw his little body into Evangeline squeezing the breath from her. She smiled down at him, rubbing his head. Madeline watched the exchange and practically seethed anger. Her own son had never hug her so. What was so special about this bitch? In a rage, she snatched his little arm and was about to pop him when strong fingers laced about her wrists staying her fist. She turned her glare on the person, only to recoil in fear.

"Aristotle!" she gasped.

"Maddy, how many times have I told you-"

"I'm sorry, Aris, but he was being foolish with this -"

"He merely gave me a hug, no harm done." Evangeline defended Jean-Pierre, allowing the boy to hide behind her. Had Aristotle not blocked Madeline's attempt when he did, she would've gladly down so. The woman was completely unstable. She had seen the rage in her eyes and she was going to punch him. Punch. When he hadn't even deserved it. If she could do this to a child, she was danger to civil company. The girl was far too young for such rage.

"I'm taking Jean-Pierre with me. I suggest you calm yourself down by the time I return."

"I don't want that slut anywhere near my son."

"When you start acting like a mother instead of this," he waved his hand up and down indicating her state, "then I'll trust you around him. Until then -"

With that, he gestured for Evangeline and the boy to exit. They could hear Madeline screech her dissatisfaction as they closed the door. Aristotle felt terrible for the servants left behind who had not left already for church. Madeline would take it out on them. When he returned he would have Jacques give them the remainder of the day off. Shaking his achy head, he watched as Jean-Pierre assisted Evangeline into the coach like a little gentleman.

"Madame," he bowed, causing his uncle to smirk, despite the nasty hangover clamoring for his attention. Jovially, he hoisted the boy into the air causing a peal of laughter to resound.

"Monsieur." He teased depositing the lad in the seat next to her before climbing in himself. He motioned for the driver to go. They were quiet until they had passed through gates. "I'm sorry for Madeline. She can be a bit much."

"So, I've witnessed. She's a bit of a temper."

"That is mildly putting it." His eyes fell on Jean-Pierre lovingly. He was thankful the boy had not inherited any of his mother's qualities in temperament. He was a good boy. He loved his sister dearly but his mother had spoiled her mercilessly and had a nerve to send her to him when she could no longer control her. Sometimes he had a mind to throw her over his knee for a sound adjustment. He had come close to nearly doing so seven years ago when she had caused that unforgivable scandal, but she had been pregnant with Jean-Pierre and could not. To this day, the subject had been far too touchy and both parties had agreed to let things be.

"Where are we going, Madame Evangeline?" the boy wondered.

"Church." She replied absently looking at his uncle who rubbed his own temples carefully. "It appears your uncle is in need of a healing."

"Are you ill, Ton-ton?"

Aristotle shot Evangeline a glare at the reminder. "Nothing that can't be fixed by an hour and a half or so of Father Kavanagh's incessant bellowing."

The boy laughed then whispered to Evangeline. "Father Kavanagh is very old and can't hear very well. So, when he does the incantations he's most loud and off key."

"Oh my." Evangeline fanned herself with exaggerated concern. "Will you be alright, Aris? I wouldn't want you spirited to death."

He sneered his lip as they pulled into the church yard. Parishioners were filing into the small chapel greeting each other. Both Aristotle and Jean-Pierre dismounted the coach and simultaneously lent their hand to Evangeline. She smiled and graciously accepted both. She handed her bible to the boy, which he held sacredly in his tiny fingers, not for the words but more for who it belonged to. Curious eyes watched her. Some bold individuals actually greeted Aristotle then eyed her for an introduction which he swiftly ignored.

"I take it you don't get to church often."

"Not unless my mother visits," he stated truthfully guiding her toward the door.

"Aristotle!"

He stiffened at the shocked female voice behind him. Turning, he caught sight of Jean clutching his own forehead much in the same fashion he had. Next to him stood the petite but beautiful Eloise Monroe. Her raven long hair was hidden beneath a fancy church hat, but her rich dark chocolate skin was immaculately on display. They all had known each other in their younger years and in all that time, she had not changed a bit. Aristotle always said she was far too pretty to be latched to that idiot of a friend of his. But he actually envied Jean for finding the love of his life, even after all the unpleasantness.

"I don't believe it!" she continued to squeal as she hugged him.

"I can't either." Jean mumbled, glaring at his friend.

"I ought to throttle you for what you did to Jean last night. We nearly missed church."

"Don't worry the drink is doing a good job of it. It's his fault buying the cheap stuff."

Jean bristled knowing full well his stock was far better than his. His eyes fell on the little boy and an immediate sadness filled him. After a moment, he smiled weakly at him, then as if remembering, he quickly looked away. Evangeline noticed this strange exchange and banked it for a later conversation with Aristotle.

"Eloise, may I introduce Aristotle's guest, Madame Evangeline Montiero, since he is to besotted to do so."

Aristotle sneered at his friend as the two women shook hands.

"A pleasure, Madame." Eloise greeted. "I do hope you are enjoying your visit."

"Best forced vacation I've had in years." Evangeline teased causing both men to cough loudly.

"What?"

"Let's get inside, Eloise, before there are no seats left." Jean quickly ushered his wife inside before anymore curious questions surfaced.

"What did she mean 'forced' vacation?" Evangeline heard the petite woman ask her flustered husband who had been well aware of the tale.

She hid a smile behind her hand as Aristotle took her arm to lead her inside. The look he had given her had been priceless.

Church had not been so terrible. As it turned out, Father Kavanagh had allowed Father Maurice to run the service having taken ill that morning with a cold. Thank God, for Father Maurice was a soft-spoken fellow with a pleasing voice. Unfortunately, Eloise and Evangeline had to nudge their respective companies from their dozing because of it. Jean-Pierre had giggled the whole time, which had drawn Captain Monroe's eyes to the boy again. Eloise had patted his leg as if to console him. Evangeline had taken note of this as well. What was it about the boy that kept drawing his eyes to him?

She had also noted that the couple had no children of their own, maybe they were recently married. She had watched from the corner of her eyes throughout the service as Eloise had waved at the boy, who had also shyly waved back. At one point, Eloise had passed him something, which made Jean-Pierre smile happily. She had noted how Aristotle had stiffened at the exchange as if annoyed. Why would he be? This definitely would be a topic of conversation.

While Jean-Pierre played in the yard with the other children, Evangeline stood with Eloise, watching. "Do you and Monsieur Monroe have any children?"

A sadness came over Eloise. "Unfortunately, I am incapable of bearing children."

"I'm sorry." Evangeline sympathized.

"It's alright. I'm saddened but Jean says that we could look into maybe taking in one of the orphans."

Evangeline smiled. "You seem taken with Jean-Pierre."

"He's a darling little boy. Smart, too. I used to be his teacher. He was one of my best students. " She beamed with pride, then her eyes grew sad again. "Until his mother demanded he be tutored at home."

Evangeline nodded understandingly. She looked closely at the boy, then turned her gaze over to captain, who was in a deep conversation with Aristotle. When she had first seen the boy, he had favored Aristotle, but examining him further she noted he resembled the captain as well. Were they family? While Aristotle had dark brown eyes, Jean-Piere and Jean had gorgeous slate gray eyes. Their hair bended same as well. And they both had handsome broad smiles, when Jean did smile, which was not happening now. What were they discussing?

"They're at it again." Eloise sighed also watching the men. "Please excuse me."

She watched as Eloise went to break up the conversation before too many eyes drew to them. The tiny thing pushed between the two combatant best friends try to bring the peace. Her presence immediately drew a truce to their discourse. Evangeline watched as Eloise touched Jean's cheek gently, whispering something soothing. Shaking his head in frustration, he grabbed her hand and stalked off. Aristotle watched as his best friend left and sighed heavily. She noted the sadness in his eyes, but quickly saw him hide it before he too stalked back toward her.

"We're going." He growled passing her to retrieve his nephew.


The ride home was most quiet. Aristotle's thoughts were far away. What made him think he would've gotten out of that encounter with Jean? He knew he had been asking for trouble taking his nephew along. Why hadn't he remembered they'd be in the congregation? Because he had been too busy trying to make sure Evangeline hadn't drawn any male parishioner's notice. Drat that woman. Even despite his presence, she had been overwhelmed by several men wanting to make introductions and welcome her. And she had relished it.

Growing tired of the quiet, Evangeline spoke. "He favors him."

"What?"

"Your nephew favors him." She repeated pointedly, looking for him to deny it.

Aristotle sighed looking at his nephew who was nestled by Evangeline quietly watching the clouds. "I know."

"I don't mean to pry, but what had you and Monroe in a twist?"

His eyes stared at his nephew, then her as if to answer her question. Evangeline nodded. "He obviously cares for the boy."

"He does but he's not the one acknowledged as his father."

"I beg your pardon?" Evangeline was shocked.

"I can't discuss it here." Aristotle promptly ended the conversation and Evangeline respected his wish, but decided for another tactic. Then an opening came.

"Madame Monroe looked pretty today," Jean-Pierre commented.

"Do you like Madame Monroe?" Evangeline asked.

"Oh yes, she is most nice to me and sometimes she'll give me a chocolate - like today. She knows cherry bon-bons are my favorite."

"She said you were her best student."

"Did she?" the boy beamed, happily.

"Oh yes." She assured him hugging him closer, then glanced over at Aristotle, who contemplated the boy's reaction. "She simply ador-"

"Evangeline, enough." He warned.

Their eyes did battle. She could see the anger simmer below the surface. So, this was more serious than she had earlier assumed. This time she backed down in earnest, not wanting to subject the boy. But her curiosity had been far too piqued. It wasn't long before they reached the villa. Jean-Pierre jumped from the coach saying he wanted to tell Jacques all about what Madame Monroe had said.

Evangeline watched him disappear into the house then turned her gaze on Aristotle who pinned her with a glare so intense she actually felt taken aback, but not enough to back down. He motioned for the driver to leave. The two of them sat facing each other dueling with their eyes.

"Do yourself a favor and stay out of my family business."

"It's rather hard considering I'm in the midst of it."

"I can gladly ensconce you in the townhouse to be away from it."

"So, my assumptions are right. He is the boy's father. Now why is he not the acknowledged one."

"It all boiled down to money." Aristotle growled furiously. "Madeline didn't even know who the father was until the boy was born and could clearly see he was Jean's."

"And let me guess, Monroe didn't have the ductets."

"My sister as you know is a bit tempestuous."

"I'd add in promiscuous, if I were you." That statement earned her a glare of dissatisfaction.

He sighed wearily. "Madeline had come to me saying that the Count Pierre Devereaux had taken her innocence. But I later learned from Jean that she and he had had a drunk one night stand at a soiree I had here in the house at the same time as the Count's visit. He had wanted to make amends and marry her, but my sister vehemently denied the claim. Soon, her little trysts bore fruit and she had been so sure it was the count's until she got a good look and saw that the child indeed favored Jean. She was furious, but my sister continued to insist it was the count's child."

"But you knew it was Jean's. Why wouldn't you allow the man to claim the boy?"

Aristotle sighed again, looking away. "You don't think I wanted to. Jean and mine's friendship has suffered horribly over this. There was a full year he would not speak to me. But she's my blood, for better or worse. And to make matters worse, the count was not willing to marry my sister, but he did and still does pay a tidy sum to take care of the child, which makes her more than happy. Once a year, the count takes my sister to Paris to lavish her with gifts for herself and the boy. He has no interest in meeting him, which is why Jean-Pierre never goes."

"Let me guess. She's really his mistress and the money he pays is to keep her quiet."

"Exactly. You are far too perspective, Eve."

"Well, I do have experience in that department."

Aristotle chuckled. "Yes, but you are nothing like Madeline. Her spoiled nature makes her do foolish things, like give a child a name reflecting her reputation. I thought I would kill her when she'd given him the name Jean-Pierre. Jean was prepared to do the same."

Evangeline did think it odd the boy had his first name, but now knowing the story and knowing Madeline, she understood. "She did it for spite."

"I didn't want to believe that, but sure enough. To make matters worse, Madeline refuses to let Jean see the boy or even let him acknowledge he is his son or else she'll send him away."

"Could she do that?"

"She is the boy's mother and he's not the acknowledged father. So, Jean stays quiet." Aristotle met her eyes. "Once in while, like today, Jean musters the nerve to get me to change Madeline's mind about the boy. But I cannot bring myself to betray my sister, despite her questionable actions."

Evangeline's heart ached. "She doesn't love that boy, Aris."

He glared at her. "How can you make such a claim?"

"Because I know. I can see it in her eyes. She has no love for that little boy. She hates him. With every fiber of her soul. And the fact she would deny his real father for a man who could give her riches, proves she is no real mother."

"Evangeline, you overstep yourself."

"Do I? Then you don't step enough when it comes to your sister. Put yourself in Jean's place. Would you allow some woman to disclaim your fatherly right?"

Aristotle chewed on her words, but she was right. Jean had made the same claim to him many times.

"Mark my words, Aris. Your sister's lunacy will cost you your best friend or something far more precious."

"Duly noted," he said before changing the subject. "Now, as for you."

"What about me?"

"Are you dead set on keeping me from you bed today? Or can I renegotiate?"


Evangeline smirked mischievously. "I'm afraid that is ironclad, Monsieur Beauvois."


Aristotle stared her up and down. "There is nothing I can do."


Evangeline thought about it, then deepened her smile to a slow grin. "How about I cook you a lavish dinner?"


This caused Aristotle to laugh, then glancing up he saw there was no humor coming from Evangeline. "Oh, come now, Eve."


"Did you forget that I was a servant at one time, Aris? Cooking was one of my many duties."


He sobered up, nodding his head in agreement. "Fine. I accept your challenge, if you can also whip up a dessert with that meal."

"I'll do you one better. The dessert I make will make you forget about not being able to have me this night."


He laughed again. "And if it fails."


"I'll consider breaking the arrangement for just this night."


"You're on."

She smirked, merrily as they continued to ride on.