“You’re makin’ a bad mistake, Miss Laurel,” Gincie bemoaned.
“Well, it’s my mistake to make,” Laurel said sharply and dismissed the ache that gnawed at her soul. She would have to raise her child alone, but she was better off than many women in her circumstances, she found herself thinking. At least she was wealthy and could give the child all the love she possessed and material wealth. However, a father was something her baby would simply have to do without. She dreaded the thought that society might ostracize her child and they would both have to deal with that fact of life. The path she had set for herself and the life she carried within her would be rocky and hard, and she prayed they would survive. Still a part of Laurel wished she had accepted Tony’s proposal. Things would have been so much simpler. But he didn’t know she carried the child of the man who had kidnapped her, and if he did, would he still have wanted to marry her?
Laurel shook her head to stop the whirling thoughts and patted Gincie’s hand. “We’ll be fine, Gincie. Wait and see.”
“I hope so, Miss Laurel,” Gincie said with a catch in her voice. “For your sake, I do hope so.”
~ ~ ~
The afternoon sunlight spilled onto the bed, waking Tony with its brightness. He sat up slowly, trying to orient himself to his surroundings. A porcelain clock on the mantel chimed the noon hour, and he realized he was in Simone’s bedroom, ensconced in her bed with a thin sheet to cover his naked body. He groaned.
How in the hell had he gotten here? He didn’t remember anything about the previous night. He had left the house about eight, gone to Plonsky’s Opera House for half an hour before making his way to the local saloon, quickly downing three bourbons and countless whiskeys. After that, he recalled nothing. And Simone, where was she? he asked himself and started to get up to dress, but a dull headache prevented him from moving too quickly.
From down the hall he heard the faint tinkle of the bell Monsieur Lancier used to summon the servants. He wondered if he should look in on the old man but dismissed the idea. He doubted the very stern and strict Pierre Lancier would wish to know that his daughter had bedded a man in his home. Of course Tony and Simone had made love many times in this room, but that had been when Simone thought they would be married, and her father was too ill to notice Tony’s comings and goings.
Tony sighed and slipped out of bed just as Simone entered the room. His nakedness brought a sly smile to her mouth, and she licked her lips at such an enticing and arousing sight. Tony grudgingly admitted that she looked quite pretty in a simple blue-and-white frock with a slip of lace at the low neckline. With the sun shining on her golden hair, Simone resembled an angelic being. But Simone was far from being a saint.
“I trust you slept well,” she said with a smile, but he heard a slight edge to her voice.
“Like a rock, Simone. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Tony began pulling on his discarded pants, trying not to give in to the pounding of his head and lie back down on the soft bed. He had to return to Petit Coteau. He wasn’t certain why. Most probably Laurel wouldn’t even leave her room, but he liked knowing she was nearby and that at any moment she would appear to brighten his day. However, since she had rejected him, his days and nights had been less than bright.
Simone walked over to him after she had picked up his shirt, drawn by the sight of his powerful chest. She splayed her fingers over the fur-planed expanse and lifted her ruby-colored mouth to his.
“You don’t have to leave so soon Tony. Stay and have something to eat. I know you must be hungry after last night.”
A giggle escaped her, and Tony’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing happened last night.”
“You slept in my bed,
chéri.”
Tony shrugged and grabbed the shirt, his muscles flexing as he slipped into the silken garment. “That doesn’t mean a thing, Simone. You know I was too drunk last night to do anything other than sleep. I might have been very drunk and don’t recall a thing, but I know for a fact that I was unable to make love to you.”
Simone’s eyes shot blue slivers in his direction. “What makes you so sure nothing happened, Tony? Am I not woman enough for you any longer? Or perhaps you are less than a man.”
Tony laughed and buttoned his shirt before sitting on the side of the bed and pulling on his boots.
“Let’s stop playing games. Both of us know how we used to be together, and I don’t have to prove anything to you about my manhood. And you are quite a woman, Simone, but things are different now.”
“Because I’m not Laurel,” Simone grumbled.
Tony’s dark brows rose a fraction of an inch. He stood up and grabbed his jacket.
“I’ll leave now, and believe me, I won’t be back. My apologies for last night. If things had been different-”
“Don’t apologize!” Simone interrupted. “You insult me with your feeble apology. I cared for you once, and you’ve cast me aside for a woman who makes you miserable. And you are miserable. Why else would you get so stinking drunk that you really don’t know if we slept together or not? I pity you.”
Simone stung Tony with her criticism, and he couldn’t deny her words. He
was
miserable. Though he knew she didn’t truly care for him, he felt badly about his callous treatment of her. Simone was a promiscuous bitch, but she had provided him with moments of ecstasy in the past. He grabbed the doorknob, yanking open the large oak door, and gave her a smile.
“You’re quite correct that I am miserable. I only hope that you never feel the pain I’m experiencing right now.”
His broad back filled the doorway, then he was gone. Simone trembled and clasped her arms around her waist. Already she felt pain at his polite dismissal of her affections. Granted, she had never loved Tony, but she did covet his wealth and his perfect male body. She thought they could have made a perfectly acceptable marriage. Her father’s illness had drained their money, and she knew that when he died she would have to sell the plantation to pay off the bills, plus her own extravagances. She would have precious little to live on then, and all because of Tony Duvalier and his Laurel.
She would never forgive Tony for not wanting her.
“I’ll have you yet, Tony,” she whispered to the closed door. “And if I can’t, I shall make your life worse than miserable.”
~ ~ ~
When Tony stopped his horse before the house half an hour later, Jean hurried outside and motioned furiously to him.
“Where have you been, Tony? I’ve been searching for you since last night.”
Tony glanced down into Jean’s flushed face. “Is something wrong with Laurel?” He made a move to get off the horse, but Jean stopped him.
“She left on the noon coach for Texas.”
“Oh,” was Tony’s only comment, feeling as if a tree had fallen on his chest. He felt unable to breathe.
“Go after her,” Jean ordered.
“Things are best this way.”
“Laurel is
enciente
, Tony.”
Jean’s words barely sunk into Tony’s brain. Laurel was having a child? Why hadn’t she told him? But then again, why should she tell him when she didn’t know the child she carried was his own.
“Follow me in the buggy to bring Gincie back to the house. I’m going after the coach to get Laurel.” Tony spurred the horse around and stirred up dust as he galloped down the lane and onto Grand Prairie Road.
~ ~ ~
Large trees shaded the road and offered a degree of coolness to the occupants in the cramped quarters of the coach. One of the women, who sat across from Laurel, rested her chin on her ample bosom, already dozing. The woman’s husband read the daily newspaper, and the other woman traveler had begun to knit. Laurel wished she had something to keep her mind occupied. All she could think about was the man who had claimed her in the dark of night, a night she knew couldn’t be put behind her. She would soon have a living, breathing reminder of their brief passionate encounter.
And she couldn’t forget Tony Duvalier, try as she might. Leaning her head against the leather seat, she tried to stop the thoughts swarming in her mind like honey bees. The swaying and jostling of the coach soon lulled her into a light sleep, and she was jarred awake by Gincie clasping her hand, followed by the sudden stopping of the coach.
Outside she heard voices, and a sense of déjà vu filled her. She had been kidnapped from a coach once before. Could it be him?
“It’s Mister Tony,” Gincie said in disbelief, but her lips turned upward into a delighted smile.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” Laurel asked in a frantic whisper.
“Ain’t sayin’ I did and ain’t sayin’ I didn’t.” Gincie resolutely folded her arms across her chest. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll marry that man.”
Laurel peered out the window, aware of the curious gazes of the coach’s occupants when Tony slid from his horse to open the coach door.
“I want to talk to you, Laurel,” he told her and held out his hand for her to take.
Her first instinct was to refuse, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. She extended her hand to his, and he helped her out of the coach.
“I ain’t got all day,” the driver mumbled to them. Tony nodded and drew Laurel away from everyone’s prying eyes to a shaded cluster of trees on the side of the road. He stared down at her, a dark angry look on his face. Laurel didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a challenging one of her own.
“You have your nerve to pull me off the stage, Tony. The driver has a schedule to meet.”
“To hell with his schedule! You’re running away from me.”
“I am not! I’m going to Texas. You already knew that I would leave Petit Coteau sooner or later. I don’t know why you’re acting so upset. My problems have nothing to do with you, and I told you that.”
“You didn’t tell me you were having a baby.”
So he had found out, and Gincie had to have been the one to tell Jean, who had wasted little time in informing Tony. Everyone thought the child was his, but he knew better than that. Still Tony had come after her. A warmth spread through her for no logical explanation at this realization.
“The child is my own business.”
“Do you intend to have it?”
“Certainly. How can you suggest such a thing?”
“How will you take care of it alone?”
“Tony, I’m far from alone. I have Gincie, and I am quite wealthy. My baby shall never want for anything.”
“Except a father.”
The sting of his retort caused her to falter, and Laurel found support by reaching out a hand to steady herself against a towering oak. Lifting wide, troubled eyes to him she spoke more confidently than she felt.
“I’ll give my baby enough love to take the place of two parents.”
Tony raked his hand through his thick glossy hair. His face possessed a haunting quality that Laurel had never before seen, and his eyes were filled with quiet desperation. He started to reach out for her but stopped himself.
“I want to be your baby’s father,” he said so lowly that Laurel at first wasn’t sure he had spoken at all. But he repeated himself, and something stirred within her like a butterfly’s wings in the pit of her stomach.
His offer touched her. Tears formed in her eyes, and she shook her head when he stroked her cheek.
“Don’t touch me, Tony. I don’t deserve your kindness, and I can’t accept your offer. I … can’t … forget.”
Tony’s sigh fanned her face. He knew she meant that night in the cabin, and he cursed himself anew for what he had done. They were both enslaved by a memory, only she didn’t know that. Determination steeled him for her refusal, but he wouldn’t allow her to leave for Texas, not with his child growing within her.
“None of that matters to me, Laurel. If I can forget, so can you. We can begin over again. Your baby deserves a father. I don’t think you realize what problems await you and the child in the future. I won’t allow you to have a child alone and without a husband to protect you. If you don’t care for me, think of the baby. I can give this child as much love as you. And with both of us loving him, he’ll be one happy baby boy.”
“Or girl,” Laurel said, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks. Once again, it seemed as if Tony Duvalier was rescuing her. He had saved her from falling over the side of the riverboat and had found her in the bayou. Now, he wanted to save her reputation and to give her baby a name. No other person, save her parents, Gincie, and her schoolfriend, had ever been so kind to her. Tony was offering her himself, and his unselfishness caused her to nod numbly.
“I don’t know if I can be a true wife to you right now,” she said. “But if you still want me as your wife, I accept your proposal.”
A soft, cool breeze wafted over them. Tony reached out and gently touched a wispy curl that rested at her temple. Pure joy filled him, and in that moment he had never been happier. He was going to marry Laurel and raise their child. She was his, his alone.
“You won’t be sorry, Laurel. I promise you I’ll be a good husband and father.”
Taking her hand, he kissed her fingertips, then led her to the waiting stagecoach. The driver and the other passengers were aggravated when Laurel’s trunks were hauled down from the top of the stage, but Gincie was smiling.