Almost immediately, she returned it. Madeline had promised herself never to take from her fellow colonists—it was a matter of honor. But old habits brought comfort in times of need, and the familiar action had succeeded in calming Madeline’s overwrought nerves. Until she suddenly realized that, for the first time in her life, she had returned something she had stolen.
The idea made her shiver. What in the world was wrong with her? Next thing she knew, she’d be returning the penknife she’d snatched from Brazos Sinclair’s bedroll a week ago.
The uneasy sensation in her stomach grew. She looked over her shoulder and almost moaned aloud. Speak of the devil. Brazos Sinclair was watching her. He began to thread his way toward her through the swarm of people. Had he noticed her sleight of hand?
“Wonderful,” Madeline muttered. He doesn’t pay her a bit of attention for days on end, but let her do something a tiny bit questionable, and there he was. If he had noticed the theft, would he put it together with the loss of his knife? His gun? That crystal swan he’d stored in that gift box, or any of the other items she’d acquired from him over the last few weeks? “I’ll bribe him with his pocket watch if I must,” she quietly told Rose, who was happily chewing on a teething ring Brazos had fashioned for her out of wood and leather.
That’s right, Madeline
, she scolded herself.
Why don’t you just return everything while you’re about it. At that rate, you’ll soon be taking Rose back to Julian
.
A hollow roar blasted her ears and shook her bones. She started, and Rose began to cry. Dazedly, Madeline realized that a steamboat’s whistle was announcing its presence off the
Uriel’s
starboard bow.
Brazos arrived and calmly took Rose from Madeline’s arms, laid her against his shoulder and began patting her back. “Listen, sweetheart,” he said when the baby had quieted. “Hear the calliope?” Turning to Madeline, he added, “Makes me feel like a kid myself to hear a calliope play.”
Madeline flicked an imaginary bit of dust from the sleeve of her brown velvet traveling cape. During the past few weeks conversation between her and Brazos had been both minimal and uncomfortable. While he never referred to either his last visit to her cabin or the harsh words he’d spoken later, both incidents hovered in the air between them like a swarm of mosquitoes lighting every so often to bite. “Life makes you feel like a child, Brazos,” she finally replied. “Do you think you’ll ever grow up?”
“Not if I can help it.” Brazos waved the baby’s arm in time with the music drifting across the water. He had donned gentleman’s attire, a black frock coat over a ruffled shirtfront and red brocade vest. Madeline was surprised he owned such clothing.
Beneath the wide brim of his hat, his eyes gleamed like sapphires, and her nervousness returned in a rush. Surely, had he noticed her pick that pocket, he’d have mentioned it right away. Or maybe he toyed with her. Brazos Sinclair was one to play games; it’d be just like him. But he didn’t appear playful today, and that made her extra nervous. Brazos looked downright dangerous.
She surreptitiously stole a handkerchief from his jacket pocket as she said, “I wish I could adopt a perspective like yours. I’m nervous, Brazos. This is quite an occasion for me and Rose. Our first glimpse of America.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful grin. “Officially, this land might be America, Maddie,” Brazos said, obliging as Rose indicated she wished to return to Madeline’s arms. “But to those of us born here, it’ll always be Texas first. Wait till you see my home, Beauty. It’s wild and free, with an endless sky—and unlike the folks where you come from, Texans care more about the character of a man than what his surname is or what he has named his house.”
Madeline thought of the boarding school where society daughters had little tolerance for an orphan girl with no family title. She said, “Texas sounds like a nice place.”
“It’s home,” Brazos said simply.
Home. Family. Country. Texas
. The single word held a wealth of meaning. He’d been a boy when Texas had declared its independence from Mexico. He’d become a man a few short months later, when he first killed in defense of the struggling republic. After a decade of independence, his country had embraced statehood and joined the Union, and Brazos had supported the move. But those ten years of sovereignty had left their mark on the people of Texas, himself included, and he believed that for years to come, Texans would be turned a little different than other Americans.
He glanced at Madeline, who stood at his side, her daughter in her arms. She’d been his wife for seven weeks, slept with him, laughed with him, and seen him at his worst. She was a light-skirt, a conniving bit of fluff with ridiculous beliefs—women’s equality, really—but he had to admit he’d miss having her around. He reached out a finger to tickle Rose beneath the chin. And Miss Magic…well…she’d forever hold a special place within his heart.
How would life on the Texas frontier treat Madeline and Rose and his European friends? From what they had said during the voyage, few of them realized the enormity of the challenge they faced. Brazos had his doubts that La Réunion would ever become a reality.
And what of good old Emile? Would he be a good husband and father? Brazos’s plans hadn’t changed; he still intended to investigate the man. Just what he’d do if he didn’t like what he discovered, Brazos hadn’t quite figured out. It’d be better for everyone if the Frenchman turned out to be a man who sat tall in the saddle.
Knowing that, he was surprised at the surge of jealousy that prompted him to say, “The newspaper will carry word that our quarantine is over and that we’ll arrive today. He’ll most likely be there to meet the boat.”
“Who?” Madeline asked, busy with wrestling a bootie back onto Rose’s foot.
He stared at her, one corner of his mouth lifted in a disgusted smile. “I swear, woman,” he answered, shaking his head. “It must take some real work on your part to be so good at forgetting a man. I almost pity your Emile. I’m sure I wouldn’t be too happy if my wife had spent her time stepping out with other men all the way from Antwerp to Galveston.”
Madeline said drolly, “Your wife did spend her time with other men, Brazos.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. If I thought about it, I probably wouldn’t be too happy, either. You’re a fickle woman, Madeline. It’s a good thing we’re not in this marriage for the long haul—I’d end up killing some poor fool for taking a shine to you.”
Her answering smile wavered a bit, and Brazos realized he’d brought up the subject he’d been dancing around all morning. He scowled as he watched her lift her chin and ask, “How shall we tend to the arrangements, Brazos? The annulment will, or course, be the first order of business when we disembark.”
“Of course.” Brazos looked out over the water toward the rooftops of Galveston’s business district. His hands gripped the railing as he said, “While you have your reunion with your Emile, I figure to head on over to King and Associates and look up a lawyer. He can draw up the papers, and we can meet later this afternoon to sign them. I’ve a connection with a judge, and most likely you’ll be free to marry Rose’s father this very evening if it suits you.”
Madeline shuddered at the thought.
If he only knew
. Hesitantly, she began, “Brazos, I want to thank you for all—”
He cut her off. “Never mind, Maddie. It worked out fine for both of us. We’ll be docking in a few moments, so why don’t we get in line. I’m gonna be first man off this boat if I have to jump the sides to do it.”
He ended up being the twenty-second passenger in line to disembark, and he grumbled the entire length of the wait. Madeline ignored his grousing as she watched roustabouts secure the hawsers as the
Uriel
docked at the Port of Galveston.
Brazos heaved a grateful sigh when the gangplank was lowered to form a bridge to the land. He shut his eyes and exclaimed, “Thank God!”
The line began to move, slowly, and frustration radiated from Brazos in waves. His muttering grew louder and more demanding. Madeline laid a restraining hand on his arm and in a wry tone said, “Really, Moses, this is not the Red Sea.”
He showed her a snarl, but amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Your mother is such a wit, Miss Magic,” he said, flicking the strings of Rose’s bonnet with his finger. Then he lifted Madeline’s hand and tucked it around his arm. “Come on. Help me encourage these folks into moving before their shadows fall asleep.”
Somehow, they made it to the gangplank without inciting a riot, and after seven weeks at sea, Madeline crossed onto dry land. She promptly stumbled into her husband’s arms.
“Whoa there, girl. Don’t drop the baby!” Brazos steadied her saying, “Hold on a minute, Maddie. You’ll get your land legs back right quick.”
Cautiously, she stepped away from him. The ground swayed a bit, but she managed to remain standing. She noticed Brazos was having a little trouble of his own. “Does grinding your feet into the dirt help?”
Grinning, he shook his head. “Nope. I’m just doing something I promised myself I’d do. Getting a good coat of Texas on my boots. Brings me luck, Maddie.”
Madeline stared at him a moment. Then she nodded and lowered Rose to the ground, allowing the child’s kicking feet to stir up the sandy soil. Next, she scuffed her own shoes.
Brazos’s eyes filled with a bittersweet tenderness as he looked at her and said, “That’s the way, Beauty. Welcome to Texas. I wish you and Miss Magic all the luck in the world.” Then he leaned over and kissed her.
Her knees threatened to buckle as his lips moved like a gentle breeze over hers. He pulled back for just a moment; then she heard him mutter, “Oh, hell.”
His mouth crushed hers. He lifted Rose from her arms and held the child securely in one arm as he pulled Madeline close with the other. Vaguely, she heard the exclamations in French, the cheers in English, and the catcalls that were the same in any language.
He kissed her soundly, thoroughly, with a hint of desperation and the taste of good-bye. Madeline lost herself in the pleasure, meeting his stroking tongue with her own, answering him with an honesty her words never allowed.
Until a particularly grating shriek pierced the haze of her desire. “Brazos!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. “Sin …Sin is that you?”
He broke off the kiss. Madeline stepped away just as a woman with bright red hair and a bosom you could set bottles on launched herself at Brazos, squealing, “Oh, my Lord, Sin has finally returned to Galveston!”
“Trixie,” he answered, laughing as he handed Rose back to Madeline. “That old joke is getting downright moldy.”
Madeline’s spine snapped straight as he bent his head and kissed the woman just as he’d kissed her only a moment before. Madeline muttered, “Welcome to Texas, my…” She closed her mouth before Rose heard a word she shouldn’t be learning.
TRIXIE WALLACE simply loved men. She loved the rumbling timber of a male voice. She loved the scratch of whiskers on her skin. She loved the earthy, musky scent of a man and the salty taste of his skin when covered with a fine sheen of sweat during physical exertion. Trixie especially loved the raw power of male muscle flexing beneath her touch.
That was why she continued to work, selectively and enthusiastically, long after basic survival required she do so. She enjoyed being a whore because she loved men, and the one man she loved above all others was Brazos “Sin” Sinclair. And although the love they shared was strictly platonic, that didn’t stop her from enjoying a kiss or two now and then.
Wrapped in his very public embrace, she sensed the disapproval of the crowd milling along the wharf and dismissed it. She never had, and never would, seek approval from a society that denounced her by day and sought her company by night. Brazos Sinclair had never condemned her for anything.
“Damn you, woman, you get prettier every day,” Brazos said, drawing back and looking her over from head to toe.
“Sin, I do like the way you kiss,” she answered. Smiling, Trixie held Brazos’s face between her hands and studied him. The tiny scar over his left eyebrow was new. His skin showed evidence of exposure to sun and sea. The twinkling blue eyes hadn’t changed, however. He loved her still. “I was beginning to think you’d never come home, honey.”
“Don’t tell me things have gotten so bad, you’ve taken to working the waterfront, Trix,” Brazos said wryly. “Is business at the Club that bad?”
Trixie’s laugh rang out above the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and cotton planters arguing the latest news from points east. “If I’d known there were men like you hanging around these docks, I’d have tried them long before now.” She tucked her arm through his and pulled him toward a waiting barouche, saying, “One of our girls is due to arrive on the New Orleans steamer today. I brought the buggy down to give her a lift home. But I’d rather give you a ride, Sin. Where were you headed?”
He stopped short. “Madeline!”
“Madeline?”
Brazos pounded his forehead with his palm, then slowly looked over his shoulder and searched the thinning crowed with a wincing gaze. “She’s gone.” His gaze darted back and forth, hunting. “Aw, dammit all, she’s gone!”
“Who’s gone, darlin'? That woman you were with?”
He nodded, and the sense of loss seemed to kick him in the gut. “He must have been here to meet her. I missed it. Damn, I wanted to see how he acted when he saw them. I wanted to see how he greeted Rose!”
“Rose?”
“My Miss Magic,” Brazos answered, hurrying toward the line of carriages for hire. He found the Santerres, the Reverchons, and the Lanottis. He asked the Frichots, the Coirets, and the Brunets if they’d seen where Madeline had gone. “Go on, Mr. Sinclair,” Lillibet replied, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “After that public display you indulged in, you’ve no right at all to question my dear Madeline.” She looked pointedly at Trixie, sniffed, and said, “I’m sure that right now, Madeline can do without the dubious pleasure of your company.”
She moved to snap shut the carriage’s window curtain, but Trixie extended a hand to hold it open.