Wild legacy (27 page)

"Oui, mademoiselle." Etienne had never suffered from such a terribly vacant mind; his emotions were in complete turmoil. He was torn between fleeing the room and vowing

never to leave her. Anxious for any excuse to prolong his stay, he seized upon the book at her side. "I could read to you," he offered, "all night if you wish."

His accent was very charming, and Dominique imagined she would enjoy hearing him read, but again, at another time. "You're very kind, monsieur—another night perhaps."

"You did not dine with us, and we were served such delicious food. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like more flowers?"

Dominique shook her head. "What I would like is to be left alone. Good night, Etienne. Sleep well."

Etienne doubted he would be able to sleep at all. He wanted desperately to kiss her, and feared his heart might cease to beat if he forbade himself that joy. He could not find the breath to ask permission and simply leaned down to brush Dominique's lips lightly with his own. Stunned by the exquisitely pleasurable sensation, he could not immediately draw away. Her response was very gentle and sweet, but she returned his kiss. Elated to have had even a small sample of her affection, he straightened up and broke into a wide grin.

"Tomorrow," he promised, "you are going to get out of that bed and spend the day with me."

Shocked that he would be so presumptuous, Dominique watched him swagger out of the room with a confidence he had not once displayed the whole while they had conversed. "What an unusual young man," she remarked absently, but she ran her fingertip over her lips and thought for such a brief kiss, his mouth had felt awfully good. Not as good as Sean's perhaps, but definitely worth a second kiss. She leaned over to inhale the gardenias' exotic fragrance, and thought perhaps she would be able to leave her bed tomorrow. That did not mean she wanted to spend the day with Etienne, but the plantation was large, and it would not be difficult to avoid him.

Etienne had to hold tightly to the handrail to guide him-

self downstairs, but there was no way he could hide his opinion of Dominique from her brother. "Your sister is precisely the jewel you described," he assured Beau. "But I fear nothing I do will please her."

Beau had never seen Etienne so flustered, and clapped him on the back. "She's not a princess. Treat her as you would any other woman," he advised.

"She is not like any other woman," Etienne complained, "but I will try."

"Yes. I know you will." Beau bade his family good night, and with the befuddled Etienne in tow, returned to his ship.

Falcon and Belle were gathered in the hallway with the others as Christian, with Liberty in his arms, and Liana also left along with Johanna and David. It had been the enjoyable kind of evening Falcon had hoped to have on his last visit home, but as his Aunt Arielle came toward him, he had a sinking feeling he knew precisely what she was going to say. Not wanting to put ideas into her head, however, he waited for her to speak.

"If your mother hasn't already told you to stay at Christian's, then I won't either, Falcon, but please don't make me sorry."

"No, ma'am. You needn't worry about me."

Arielle kissed Belle good night and went on up the stairs but her warning had not been lost on the young lovers. Belle waited until she heard her mother's door close. "Let's go out to the garden and talk," she suggested.

Falcon leaned down to whisper. "If your mother is going to be watching me later tonight, let's go out to the stable and make love."

"Don't be wicked," Belle scolded with a lilting giggle, but she did not want anything to ruin the night that lay ahead, either. When they reached the garden, she threw her arms around Falcon's neck and kissed him soundly. He had not mentioned marriage since he had made her his wife in the forest, and she was loath to bring up the subject herself

but she was anxious to make their union a legal one so they did not have to hide their passion for one another.

"How long can you stay home?" she asked instead, and dreading his answer, held her breath as she awaited his reply.

"A few more days," Falcon murmured between hungry kisses. He cupped her breast and teased her nipple with his palm. "I want the war over so I never have to leave you again. It hurts too much, Belle, far too much."

Belle would never forget the fire in his eyes as he had drawn his knife on Sean O'Keefe and sincerely doubted that he gave any thought to her while he was away. He had been gone only briefly to fight outside Petersburg, but she had felt him withdraw into himself even as he had kissed her farewell. She looked up toward the light in her parents' bedroom on the second floor and laced her fingers in Falcon's to still his wandering caress.

"There are a couple of empty stalls in the stable, aren't there?"

"Yes, and they're laid with fresh straw," Falcon whispered enticingly. "It will be almost as nice as the forest."

"We won't be able to see the stars, though," Belle reminded him.

Falcon slid his arm around her waist to guide her along the path. "We'll make our own, Belle, and they'll be just as bright."

They laughed together as they had as children, but the pleasure they had found with each other now was deeper than either had dreamed existed years ago. The stable was warm and dark, but they made it a small corner of paradise and shared all they would ever need of heaven. When they returned to the house after midnight, they parted on the stairs and went to their separate rooms, but were together again in their dreams.

* * *

Dominique awakened the next morning, her chest tight with a nameless fear. It was a horrible sensation and she sat up slowly, believing a forgotten dream must be to blame. She left her bed and crossed to the open window. When she looked out, she saw members of Beau's crew moving about the deck of the Virginia Belle, but she lacked their eagerness to greet the day. Beau would not be home long, however, and she did not want him to find her confined to her bed again.

The water in the pitcher on the washstand was fresh and cool, and she splashed her face and patted it dry. Gazing into the mirror she scarcely recognized the thin face that greeted her; her outward appearance had changed as greatly as her inner mood, but that did not trouble her. In fact, she rather liked the more serious expression she now wore and hurried to her wardrobe in hopes of finding something suitably somber among the bright silks and satins.

Way in the back, a pale peach muslin gown caught her eye. It was demure in design, if not solemn in hue, and after donning the layers of lacy lingerie her fashions required, she slipped on the summery gown and was pleased. She brushed out her hair, knotted it atop her head, and added an eyelet cap with a ribbon tie. White stockings and kid slippers completed the outfit, and she was again ever so grateful to have such lovely clothes.

She glanced around her room, and sighting the gardenias, took one and pinned it to her bodice. She had no need of perfume while wearing the fragrant flower, and hoping the tightness in her chest would soon fade, she went downstairs for breakfast. She had not wondered who might share the table, as each member of the family trailed through the dining room at his own pace in the morning, but Beau and Etienne had already eaten and were chatting with her mother and aunt.

"Belle and Falcon have gone fishing," Arielle announced.

"Beau has to prepare to sail, but we thought perhaps you could give Monsieur LeBlanc a tour of the plantation."

"Are you interested in tobacco farming, monsieur?" Dominique inquired. She slid into her usual place beside her father's vacant chair. Etienne was again seated on the opposite side of the table at her mother's right where they could glance easily at each other as they spoke. She never ate more than a few pieces of fruit for breakfast, and began to peel a ripe peach.

"I can not imagine a more fascinating subject," Etienne replied, but he would have been content to discuss whatever topic she chose. Beau winked at him, but he scarcely needed the encouragement.

"It's nearly time for the harvest," Dominique remarked.

Etienne watched Dominique guide a sliver of peach to her mouth. She licked the juice from her lips, and he could barely suppress a moan. "I will enjoy observing that as well."

Confused, Dominique paused before slicing off another bite of fruit. "Beau is seldom home, so I'm afraid you'll undoubtedly miss it."

She did not appear pained by his imminent departure, but Etienne refused to give up his effort to impress her. "I am not sailing with Beau," he explained. "I plan to stay in Virginia and fight with the militia."

Dominique's knife spilled from her hand and clattered to her plate. "Really? Does he know?"

"Yes. I told him yesterday. I can shoot very well, and I will welcome a chance to wear buckskins."

Dominique had already noticed Etienne could do with a new suit of clothes, but buckskins had not been what she had had in mind. "We're all grateful for the assistance France has given us to fight Great Britain. I do hope that you'll return home safe and well."

"Thank you, mademoiselle, I will pray for you as well."

Dominique tried to smile, then found it easier to concen-

trate her attention on the slippery peach. She recalled Sergeant Danby had offered to pray for her, but she was not certain she was flattered now. She was in perfect health, but feared Etienne might believe her soul was in need of redemption. "You are too kind, monsieur."

Arielle caught Alanna's eye and smiled. "I'm so pleased you're feeling well again, but Etienne has had a long voyage, and you mustn't tire him."

"I'll be exceptionally considerate," Dominique promised her mother. She was relieved when Beau began a description of the beauty of the West Indies, but all too soon he excused himself and went to join their father in the study. She dallied with a few berries, then ate another peach, but finally could delay leaving the table no longer. "Are you ready, monsieur?"

Etienne left his chair in an instant and circled the table to help Dominique from hers. He was dressed as he had been the previous evening, and very neatly groomed even if his attire was worn. "Ladies, you will excuse us?"

"Of course," Arielle assured him, and Alanna murmured a wish for a pleasant outing.

Dominique glanced up at Etienne. His hair was fine, if thickly curled, and his beard so light it lent only a faint shadow beneath his deep tan. She tried to imagine him in buckskins, but failed.

"Let's go out through the garden," she suggested.

"My mother is devoted to her flowers," Etienne confided as they strolled through the well-tended rows of roses, gardenias, and carnations. He bent down to enjoy a deep red rose's perfume, then had to rush to catch up with Dominique. "Do you spend much time here?"

"Sometimes," Dominique replied. "It's a pleasant place to sit and read, or simply think."

"Am I intruding upon your thoughts, mademoiselle?"

He most definitely was, but Dominique smiled and shook her head. "We have a small city on our property, but I'm

assuming you'd rather walk along the fields than visit with the blacksmith or cooper."

"Qui" Etienne reached for her hand and was pleased when she did not yank free. "My father is a fisherman as he was in Acadia, and taught me about the sea, so your plantation is a marvel to me."

Startled, Dominique turned to look up at him. "Your father is Acadian?"

"I had forgotten that you were not there when I met your parents, and we spoke of Acadia then. Does it bother you? I see no difference where a Frenchman is born. He is still French, is he not?"

"Yes, of course, but the Acadians were so widely scattered after the expulsion, I've met only a few. It was a surprise, that's all."

"A common link between us that you did not expect?" Etienne wished aloud.

"Yes. I suppose we could view it that way." Dominique led him through the garden out toward the fields which bordered the house. His touch was as gentle as his kiss, not in the least bit confining, and she liked that. Some men held on as though they feared she was about to bolt, but rather than suppress the urge, they encouraged her to flee.

She gestured toward the plants that were nearing six feet in height. The dark green leaves grew long and full in the center of the stalk, but tapered in size toward the top. "The tobacco plants grow for a single season. We start them in seed beds in early spring, then in two to three months transplant them to the fields. They have pretty pink flowers, but when the blooms appear, they're cut or topped off to encourage the growth of larger leaves.

"Harvesting will begin soon. The plants are cut, allowed to wilt, and then cured in special barns where the leaves are air-dried. To improve its flavor, the tobacco is then stored in barrels for two to three years before it's sold. It's an endless process, but then so is fishing for a living."

"Out" The day was warm, but Etienne was enjoying himself far too much to be uncomfortable. "Would you show me one of the barns?"

"They're empty now, and not all that interesting."

"I want to see one anyway."

Dominique lifted her skirt with her free hand and continued on down the path. "I doubt Falcon will be home much longer. Do you really intend to fight with him in the Carolinas?"

Etienne squeezed her hand. "Did you think I said that merely to impress you?"

Dominique came to an abrupt halt, forcing him to stop with her. "I hope you'd not risk your life to impress any woman. That would be foolhardy in the extreme, Etienne."

She looked sincerely concerned. Pleased beyond measure, fetienne flashed a teasing grin. "I have already fought for three years, Dominique, and I did not even know you existed. Do you like soldiers?"

That question hurt very badly, and while Dominique knew it had not been intentional, she could not hide her pain. "Please. I don't want to talk about other men."

"Neither do I," Etienne assured her. "Now come show me a barn, and then we can walk down by the river."

He had not worn a hat, and the sun reflected off his ebony curls with the same iridescent gleam it gave a raven's wing. His brows and lashes were just as black, accenting his light eyes handsomely. He had such a pleasant smile, but in repose, she saw a glimmer of a darker mood in his expression.