Heart of Glass (21 page)

“I wasn’t an infant when my birth parents died. I still remember being poor quite well. My parents fled the Irish famine and died in the yellow fever plague.” She touched the rim of her plate, too nervous to take another bite.

“What of your sister?” he asked between bites. “The one left at the orphanage with you.”

Kate stared into a candle flame trapped inside a jar. “She was adopted shortly after we arrived there. She was younger, only four, and very beautiful. I’ve no idea what happened to my older sisters.”

“Older sisters?” Colin rested his fork on the edge of his dinner plate and studied her carefully.

She blushed and nodded. “Lovie and Megan. My uncle told us they were taken in by a wealthy family and were living like princesses.” She shrugged. “I suppose that’s why I wasn’t in awe of the Keenes’ wealth when they adopted me. I expected to be as lucky.”

He was finishing off what was left on his plate. If he noticed she hadn’t had more than a few bites he didn’t comment on it. Kate filled the silence.

“I tried to find them but there’s no record of them anywhere. Sometimes I’m surprised they haven’t ever looked for me, but then again, the war turned everything upside down.” She shrugged. “Who knows where they are or even if they are still alive.”

“Maybe you’ll find them one day.” Colin finished his wine and leaned back.

“Maybe so. No matter what, I’ll always remember them.”

He frowned and gazed over the land, which was now bathed in darkness. “Do you really think Jason and I can bring in a crop next year?”

“Of course.”

“You say that without hesitation.” His voice low, he added, “I wish I was as certain.”

If only she were as certain about their future together. Uncertainty about what was to come tonight overshadowed everything else in Kate’s mind. Colin seemed perfectly at ease as he finished his meal. But, skittish as a frog on a hot griddle, Kate ate very little and declined coffee when Simon offered it.

Simon had just served Colin a cup of coffee and a plate of almond cookies when they heard a shout followed by a loud thud inside. Then they heard Marie scream.

Kate jumped to her feet and dashed across the gallery and into the dining room. Marie was at the far end of the room kneeling beside Damian. The boy lay spread-eagle on his back staring at the ceiling. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his hand still clutched the handle of his wooden sword.

“Is he dying? Help him, Aunt Kate!” Marie leapt to her feet.

Frantic, Kate knelt beside Damian, but he didn’t move. She heard Colin limp up behind her.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Marie cried, “He was jumping off the sideboard but he slipped off the edge and landed on his back. Is he dead?”

Suddenly, the boy’s mouth began to open and close, but he didn’t say a word.

“Damian.” Colin was calm but firm. “Damian, look at me.”

Slowly, Damian rolled his eyes toward Colin.

“Oh, Colin, do you think his neck is broken?” Afraid to touch him, Kate fought the urge to pull the boy into her arms.

“I think he’s knocked the wind out of himself,” Colin said. “Breathe, Damian. Take a slow, deep breath. You’re all right.”

Damian focused on Colin. His chest rose and fell. Tears replaced the fright in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Kate brushed the dark curls back off his forehead.

Finally, Damian nodded. Gasping for breath and crying in earnest, he tried to sit up. Kate took his hands and pulled him up with care. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I think it’s time you surrendered your sword,” Colin said.

Damian let out a wail. “How will I storm the bulwarks or carouse like a real pirate without a sword?”

“You are not to storm the bulwarks or carouse, especially in the house.”

“You could have been killed.” Marie was white as parchment, her hands fisted at her sides.

Kate took one of Marie’s hands but kept an arm around Damian.

“Damian is just fine. He simply knocked the wind out of himself.”

Colin asked the boy, “Is this the first time this has ever happened to you?”

Damian wiped his face and nodded.

“Then let’s hope it’s your last. Now, do as I say and hand over your sword for safekeeping.”

Damian’s lip quivered. “Will I get it back?”

When Kate saw the corner of Colin’s lips twitch and knew he was holding back a smile her heart did a somersault.

“Only if you can obey the rules of your pirate commander.”

“You mean Aunt Kate?”

“I mean me.”

“Oh.” Damian reached for his sword. He cradled it for a moment. “Simon worked very hard to make this for me.”

“I’ll take good care of it.” Colin took the sword and tucked it under his arm.

“Will it be a long time before I can have it back?”

“That depends on how well you follow the rules around here. Show us you’ve given up leaping off the furniture, and you’ll be a buccaneer again before you know it.”

Damian let Kate help him to his feet to dust him off. Marie kept an eye on her brother as if she thought he might keel over again. Damian tugged up his pants and straightened his shirt.

Marie finally separated herself from Kate and took Damian’s hand.

“I’ll help you upstairs,” she said.

Before the unarmed pirate left the room he stopped and looked up at Colin.

“You were nicer before you got married,” he said.

“Just remember,” Colin said, “it was your idea.”

C
olin hoped Kate hadn’t taken his words as an insult.

“You know I didn’t marry you simply because the children insisted,” he said as soon as the children were out the door.

“I know how complicated this is.”

He looked at the sword and shook his head.

“So much for our first crisis. I think we handled it very well, don’t you?”

“Do you mean for two people who have no idea what they are doing?”

“Speak for yourself.”

“By the way, when were you promoted to commander?”

When Colin saw the sparkle in her eyes he was happy for another glimpse of the old Kate.

“It was a self-appointment,” he said.

Her smile faded too quickly.

“When I saw him lying there like that …” She didn’t go on, but her silence said more than words.

“It scared me too. But having been a boy once myself, I’m fairly certain this won’t be the last time he gets hurt.”

“I’m not sure I can take many scares like that.”

“I’ll be here to help.”

“Will you?”

He nodded.

An awkward silence lengthened, much like the moments that had passed between them outside.

“I suppose I should go up and see to their prayers.” Kate hesitated, then surprised him. “Would you like to join me? I’m sure they’d be happy to have you tuck them in.”

“I don’t think I could make it up the stairs tonight. I’d best get back to the
garçonnière
.”

Kate’s eyes were huge behind her glasses; her face flushed. Was she about to burst into tears?

“What is it, Kate? Damian is all right. There’s no need to worry.”

She glanced out the door. The light in the
garçonnière
window beckoned.

“Would you …? Should I …?”

Suddenly it hit him. Over the past week they discussed the children, her work, the cane crop, and field workers, but never once had they discussed the intimate guidelines of their marriage. Kate wasn’t sure what to expect.

He set the sword on the sideboard and took Kate’s hands in his. Hers were as cold as ice.

“Thank you, Kate.”

“For what?”

He could barely hear her.

“For the sacrifice you’ve made for the children and for me.”

She looked so vulnerable and confused that he couldn’t help but kiss her. Unlike during the ceremony, this time Kate kissed him back. Tempted by her response, Colin longed to deepen the kiss, but he had no intention of toying with her. He pulled back. Kate’s face was still tipped up, and she blinked at him as if she’d just had the wind knocked out of her too.

He rubbed his thumb against the vulnerable underside of her wrist. Was Kate Keene unwittingly storming his heart the way she had
Belle Fleuve
?

“I can feel your pulse. Your heart is racing,” he whispered.

“I …” She dropped her gaze. Her cheeks flamed.

“Kate, there’s no need to be frightened. I will never press you for more than you are willing to give.”

“I thought that you might be moving in with … us.”

“I’m comfortable in the
garçonnière
.”

Another moment passed before she met his eyes again.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her hand before saying good-night and walking away.

S
omehow Kate survived the first week of her marriage without dying of embarrassment. Thankfully, Colin never once mentioned their awkward wedding-night exchange.

They quickly settled into a routine; he spent his time overseeing the work on the cabins and making sure the new hands and their families were settled. Together he and Jason met with other planters on River Road.

Kate spent the time completing the plans Jamison had assigned and tending to Marie and Damian. The day after the wedding, she approached Colin about taking his evening meals with them, stressing that she felt it was important for the children to see them as a united front. He immediately agreed.

The first time he joined them in the dining room of the main house with his shirt open at the neck and his damp, dark hair tied back, she almost wished he would have chosen to continue eating alone in the
garçonnière
. The lamplight in the dining room hid the lines and hollows on his face, making it hard to remember that he was not the Colin she knew in her youth and that theirs was a partnership, not a marriage.

The four of them gathered around the table was a stark reminder that Amelie was gone. Sometimes Damian or Marie would struggle to fill awkward silences. On occasion Colin tried to
make conversation, but often seemed distracted. Kate suspected he was either worried about the future or in pain.

To someone peering through the window they might seem an ordinary family, but the reality of the situation was achingly clear; they were trying to cobble together a life and none of them knew how to go about it.

A
s much as she wanted to concentrate on her duties as the wife of a struggling plantation owner, inexperienced mother of two, and fledgling architect at
Belle Fleuve
, duty demanded that Kate make the trek to New Orleans to meet with Roger Jamison.

Upon arriving in New Orleans Kate walked the Garden District, enjoying perfect fall weather and admiring the architecture. A few homes were made of brick and stucco like in the French Quarter, but most were made of wood and were surrounded by large gardens with enough room for oaks and magnolias. Though she enjoyed New Orleans, with Colin and the children never far from her mind, the city no longer felt like home.

When she finally reached Roger Jamison’s stately house, she rang the bell and then admired the decorative ironwork used on the side gallery as she waited for him to answer. He opened the door, pleased to see her.

“Miss Keene, come in. Come in. I’d all but given up on you.” He noted the roll of plans in her arms. “I see you’ve brought the designs along. Good. Good. I’ve been anxious to see them.”

He led the way into his office. Kate followed, hoping that her work would meet his approval. The plans were not very inspired, but she thought she’d produced some good, solid additions.

“I’m sorry this has taken so long,” she began.

“I heard that Amelie Delany passed.” He cleared space on his design table, his expression one of sympathy. “Are you still at
Belle Fleuve
?”

She nodded and tried to hide a blush. “Actually, yes. Colin Delany and I were married last week.”

He peered at her over his spectacles.

“That was rather sudden, I take it?”

“Amelie returned with two children, a boy and a girl. Colin and I promised to look after them together.”

“So you married him?”

“It’s more of a partnership, actually.”

“I suppose this means you won’t be able to assist me after all.” He hadn’t even seen her plans but sounded disappointed.

“On the contrary, I’m hoping the designs meet your approval and you’ll keep me on as your assistant — as long as I can work at
Belle Fleuve
. Naturally I’ll come and meet with you when needed.”

“As long as the clients are happy, I don’t see why that should be a problem.” He took her plans and spread them out. As he studied them intently, the only sound in the room was the tick of the clock on the mantle and Roger’s occasional “Ah.”

When he was finished he slipped off his glasses, folded the stems, and set them down. Kate held her breath.

“I must say this is very nice work, Mrs. Delany.”

Hearing him address her as Mrs. Delany caught Kate off guard. It was a moment before she responded.

“Thank you, Mr. Jamison.”

“Having known Patrick Delany’s work, all I can say is that he would be proud to have you carrying on the family name.”

She thanked him again, and he rolled up the plans and invited her to sit down over tea to discuss a project he wanted her to start on immediately: the remodeling of a home recently purchased by a steamboat captain from Baton Rouge.

“It’s a place with good bone structure. Perhaps you’ll have more luck persuading him to change some of the crazy notions he’s come up with.”

“Crazy notions?” She was intrigued as well as concerned. “Will his ideas ruin the integrity of the house? If so, what should I do?”

“Make him happy, Mrs. Delany, or forfeit the work and I’ll find someone who will.” He gave her a nearby address.

“I’ll walk past it on my way back to the French Quarter,” she told him.

“You don’t have a carriage waiting?”

She hadn’t wanted to spend the money when she was quite capable of walking.

“It’s a lovely day for a walk,” she said.

“That it is.”

They shared a pot of tea, and then he gave her the original plans he’d found in the New Orleans city archives to study.