Destiny's Daughter (2 page)

*  *  *

A uniformed porter showed Annalisa to the dining room in the grand salon. Through intricately carved rosewood doors, she entered a world of unexpected elegance. Gas lights hissed softly. Couples spoke in hushed whispers.

Annalisa fretted that dinner was no longer being served. After spending so much time in the fresh air, she had fallen asleep in her cabin, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat. Barely taking time to wash and dress, she had tried unsuccessfully to tame her hair. The breeze off the river, and the humidity, conspired to make it even more unruly than usual. Finally she had simply pulled a brush through the tangles and held it away from her face with two combs. It fell into a riot of dark curls that spilled down her back nearly to her waist.

Her gown, which had seemed so lovely at the convent, now paled beside the elegant attire of those around her. Made of ivory lawn, it had a high collar and a parade of mother-of-pearl buttons that ran from neck to waist. The long sleeves were full from shoulder to elbow, then tapered to the wrist, with a dozen buttons at each cuff.

Annalisa had no idea that her skin was flushed and rosy from the sun. Or that her eyes danced with undisguised curiosity. The cascade of lush curls was the perfect contrast to the pale gown.

Because the hour was late, most of the tables were vacant. A waiter showed her to a table near the window, where she could watch the setting sun trail ribbons of fire along the waves. Though it was past the dinner hour, a meal of cold meat and cheese was available, along with delicate pastries.

At a table nearby, half a dozen men were engaged in a game of poker. The rich, deep rumble of their voices was pleasing to a woman who had grown up hearing only the sound of carefully modulated women’s voices. Each time one of the men laughed, Annalisa found herself responding with a smile. The sharp bite of tobacco stung the night air as they enjoyed cigars. Annalisa inhaled the scent, finding it oddly intoxicating.

*  *  *

Chase Masters held a match to his cigar and watched the curl of smoke rise above the table. He was losing, and he hated to lose. Colonel McNaught, a former Confederate officer, seated to his left, had won every hand for the past half hour. The man wasn’t cheating. Chase was a master at the art of cards, and he prided himself on knowing when a man was cheating and when he was just plain lucky. The colonel wasn’t even a good card player. In his case, it was dumb luck. Sometimes the cards just fell right and Chase knew that when that happened, the momentum would keep building, unless something—or someone—managed to stop it. Chase knew what he had to do. When the time was right, he would find a way to change the colonel’s luck.

While the men studied their cards, his gaze swept the room and settled on the girl. He had seen her enter. It was rare for a young woman to travel alone, unless she was a woman of tarnished reputation. Everything about this woman spoke of breeding and education. She had the manner and bearing of a queen sitting there alone near the rail. The sun setting behind her bathed her in an amber glow, touching her hair with fire. Though she was now the only woman left in the salon, she did nothing to attract the men’s attention. She was no flirt. She seemed composed, content to simply watch and listen.

The men discarded, then began asking for cards. The girl’s head turned to the sound of their voices. Her eyes locked on Chase’s for a moment. He winked, and was surprised when she winked back. Maybe his first impressions of her were wrong. With a sly smile he picked up his hand and gave his attention back to the game.

*  *  *

Annalisa felt herself blushing clear down to her toes. It had been a reflex thing. Yvette had taught her to wink. Yvette was the orphaned daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Natchez. Every summer, when the other girls went home, Annalisa stayed on with the sisters, with only Yvette for company. Every June Yvette spent a month in Europe with her grandparents, then spent the rest of the summer regaling Annalisa with stories of her month of complete freedom. It was from Yvette that Annalisa learned what men and women did when they mated, because after her trip of two summers ago, Yvette had described it graphically. Annalisa sighed. She would be better off in a convent, away from such things. Although Yvette had boasted that it was a feeling like no other, her descriptions had left Annalisa more confused than ever. To Annalisa it sounded wonderful yet terrible. How could such a thing be possible? She glanced at the table of men and felt herself flush. The man who had winked at her was now, thankfully, engrossed in the game.

She studied his dark hair, gleaming blue-black in the lamplight. That wink had been a private signal between Yvette and Annalisa. One time Yvette had told Annalisa a racy story that made them both blush and roar with laughter. "Whenever Sister Clarisse rambles until you think you’ll die from boredom, just look at me and wink, and we’ll both think of this story and share a private laugh," Yvette had said. And it worked. Now, just thinking of Yvette and the naughty story, Annalisa found herself smiling and feeling less alone.

Yvette was already on her way to Europe, where she would live with her grandparents and probably marry a count. At least that’s what she had hinted to Annalisa on their last day together. The friends had tearfully parted, knowing they would probably never see each other again. The girls she had known in her childhood would scatter across the South to rejoin families. Yvette would marry her count. And Annalisa would meet her mother to tell her of her plans to become a nun.

Having been deep in thought, Annalisa looked up to see the man staring at her again. Heat stained her cheeks. Could he tell by looking at her that she had been thinking about men and women, and the things Yvette had told her? She lifted an embroidered handkerchief to her mouth to hide her discomfort. Tucking it into her waistband, she failed to notice that a corner of the linen tablecloth was trapped at her waist along with it.

She glanced toward the open doors of the salon. She was too warm. She needed fresh air. It wasn’t, she told herself firmly, that she wanted to get away from the dark, unsettling gaze of the stranger. Standing abruptly, she began to walk. At her first steps the tablecloth came with her, knocking china, crystal, silver to the floor with a terrible crash.

When the sounds of shattering glass were finally stilled, the entire room was cast into an eerie, expectant hush.

Horrified, Annalisa stood frozen to the spot. All she could do was stare in awestruck silence at the destruction she had caused.

After long, chilling moments, pandemonium erupted. Several of the men at the poker table jumped to their feet at the commotion. Everyone’s head swiveled to watch as waiters hurried forward to assist. It was a scene of total chaos. In those split seconds of confusion, Chase Masters calmly exchanged a card in his hand for another in the deck.

"Oh, I’m so sorry. Please excuse me." Annalisa backed away from the waiters as they knelt to retrieve the shards of crystal and china.

No one acknowledged her. They were all bent on the task of cleaning up the mess she had created.

She stared around at the taut faces of these strangers, sensing their shock, their scorn. Lifting her skirts, she whirled and fled the sting of their looks.

As the young woman glided stiffly past the poker table, Chase studied her. Who would have dreamed such a regal beauty could create such havoc? He managed to control the rumble of laughter that threatened. The young woman, he noted, averted her gaze and hurried away.

Annalisa continued on until she reached the comfort of her own cabin. Inside she nearly wept in frustration at her clumsiness. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned her dress and tossed it aside. She couldn’t even find the energy to remove her chemise and pull on a night dress. How humiliating. What would Sister Marie Therese say if she had witnessed that awful scene? She would say what she always said; that there was something, some devil perhaps, lurking inside Annalisa that made these things happen to her. No amount of nagging, or teaching, or praying would change that fact. Annalisa would never be the lady the sisters wanted her to be. Her mother would be so disappointed in her.

Fighting tears of anger and frustration, Annalisa flopped on her stomach on the bunk and buried her face in the pillow.

*  *  *

"I believe that’s the game, gentlemen." Chase wrapped his hands around the pile of chips, sliding them forward, adding to the already overflowing heap at his elbow. "Tomorrow night?"

Several of the men nodded, then bid him good night.

Cashing in, Chase folded a wad of money and jammed it deep into his pocket. He could kiss that girl for the perfect distraction that afforded him the chance to turn that dismal game around. Lady Luck was a fickle old dame. Sometimes she just needed a nudge. Chase hummed a little tune and made his way along the darkened deck.

A man fumbling with a cabin door looked up as Chase approached. Startled, the man bolted toward the stairs leading to the upper deck. For long minutes Chase stared after him, his gaze scanning the silent darkness. Had he only imagined it, or had the man been attempting to force his way into that cabin?

Stopping to light a cigar, Chase put the man out of his mind and thought of the girl and smiled. What a natural she was. All sweet and innocent and managing to be impossibly clumsy at the same time. She was almost too good to be true. He paused, holding the match aloft. His eyes narrowed. Could it have been an act? He’d met a lot of cons in his day. She didn’t look like any he’d ever seen. Still ... He drew on his cigar and blew out a stream of smoke. She did return his wink.

He would never be able to forget that strange, husky voice of hers as she’d murmured her apology to the crew. That sultry tone had whispered over his senses.

The voice suited her. So did the wild mane of hair. The body beneath that prim gown had been slender, with a waist so narrow his hands ached to span it. She was round in all the right places, with breasts that seemed to strain against the tightly buttoned confines of that prudishly high neckline.

The match burned his fingers. Swearing, he dropped it over the rail. Chase’s teeth gleamed white in the darkness as he grinned. The lady and the gambler. God, what a team they could make.

*  *  *

In her cabin, Annalisa awoke. She thought she’d heard someone twist the latch on her cabin door. She’d smelled the sweet fragrance of spice and something faintly medicinal. Like the spirits old Sister Honore used to take on cold nights. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she heard hurried footsteps that grew faint, followed by a slow, easy footfall that came nearer, then stopped.

A whiff of cigar smoke wafted through the vents in her door and her thoughts flew to the man in the salon. Even hidden by the cover of darkness, she felt the sting of humiliation. How clumsy she had looked. How childish. If he thought of her at all, he must be still laughing at her display of bad manners.

Slipping beneath the cool sheets, she lay awake, thinking of his dark hair that gleamed in the lamplight, of his smile, that was both charming and dangerous. The neatly trimmed mustache only added to his dark good looks. And then she thought of his eyes. Hooded, mysterious, they had captured her with that wicked, conspiratorial wink. There was something about that man. Though he dressed like a gentleman, she sensed that he was a rogue, who wouldn’t take life too seriously.

She thought of the elegant women aboard this boat. A man like that could have his pick of beautiful women.
He winked at me.
Her heart did something strange, something she couldn’t fathom. It felt as if it had tumbled in her chest. What was happening to her? He was a man of the world. And she was going home to announce her intention of entering the convent. How could she possibly be feeling such things at a time like this?

She rolled over and balled her hands into fists. The man in the salon wasn’t even a nice man. He had been gambling and drinking whiskey and smoking a cigar. Tobacco smelled good, she thought suddenly, and once again there was the faintest whiff of it on the night air. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to blot his image from her mind. It was impossible. All she could see was that rogue smile of his, enhanced by the twitch of his mustache. And his dark eyes. And that wicked wink. That wicked, heart-stopping wink.

Born of years of habit, Annalisa awoke at dawn. For long moments she lay without moving, as thoughts of the previous night’s humiliating scene flashed through her mind. She groaned. I won’t leave my cabin, she thought, pulling the sheet over her head. I’ll stay here for the rest of the trip, where no one can see me and be reminded of my clumsy accident.

"Fool," she berated herself out loud. By now, everyone on board would have heard of the awkward goose who had dumped an entire table and its contents on the deck of the salon. She could still hear the terrible sound of breaking glass, and the strained silence from the men at the poker table. And she had witnessed the smirks from the crew who had rushed to clean up her mess.

There was nothing to do but hide in her cabin until she reached New Orleans.

Slipping out of the bunk, she was a little surprised to discover that she had slept the night in her chemise. The sisters would have been appalled. She stretched, loving the unusual freedom of naked limbs. If she were alone she would remove even this last restraining piece of fabric and dive into the cool waters of the Mississippi. Throughout those long confining years at the convent, it had been one of her special fantasies. In her daydreams, she was always alone by the banks of a river, shedding her clothes and frolicking in the water like a pup.

After washing, Annalisa studied her face in the mirror. The sun had darkened her skin and put a bloom on her cheeks. She studied her pale arms. It would be pleasant to bare herself to the sun, to lie hidden from public view and feel the sunshine heat her body. Were those wicked thoughts? she wondered. No, there couldn’t be anything wrong with wanting to feel the warmth of the sun on one’s skin. Lying back on her bunk, she stared at the ceiling of the cabin and recalled yesterday’s wonderful sense of freedom. It wasn’t fair to be imprisoned once more in this small cell. It was as bad as being back at the convent, with the hard metal bed, the single chest, and a basin of cold water.

That’s what lies in store for me for the rest of my life. The thought brought Annalisa bolt upright in the bunk. Sometimes, in the midnight silence, when all were asleep, she fretted about her future in the convent. It would stretch out as interminably as her past. There would be mass, meals, prayers, sleep. For as long as she lived. A tiny thread of fear wrapped around her heart. Would it be enough? Could that kind of life ever be enough? She shook her head and bounded from the bed. She mustn’t think about it. She must never dwell on it. She had already made her decision. She would meet this stranger who was her mother, and she would tell her what she planned to do with her life.

Was she doing this because she was hoping her mother would ask her to reconsider? Annalisa’s hands stilled as she was about to brush her hair. Was that why she had decided to go home and confront her mother? Was she really hoping that there was some small spark of feeling in her mother’s heart for her?

Angrily she pulled the brush through the tangles until tears stung her eyes. She wasn’t crying over her mother. It was the sting of pain, she thought with grim satisfaction. She wasn’t such a fool that she would expect her mother to suddenly discover some vague feeling of maternal love.

Annalisa slumped down on the bunk, trying, as she had so often, to remember anything at all about her early life with her mother. She vaguely remembered a very big house, with noise and laughter and music. And the smell of perfume everywhere. There were many cousins and aunts, but through the years they had become a blur. Yet one face remained constant. Annalisa could recall a pretty woman, with dark hair always pulled neatly into a perfect knot at her nape. Little wisps of hair used to work loose. They were curly, like her own, she thought, absently stroking a curl. And she remembered sad, amber eyes that filled easily with tears. The woman was small, almost fragile, and Annalisa could remember sitting on a swing in a fragrant back yard as the woman crooned softly.

There was one other person Annalisa could almost recall. A big woman with a black face and beautiful dark eyes. Annalisa remembered being snuggled against her ample bosom, and feeling the laughter welling clear up from her toes as she charmed the little girl with funny stories.

Through the years all of the names and most of the faces had been forgotten. She shivered and lifted a gown from her trunk. Would any of those half-remembered people be there to welcome her when she came home?