Southern Seduction (9 page)

“Nothing is wrong, James,” Travis said as he leaned on the pommel.
“How is it going?”

“We’ve sent ten carts to the mill already this morning.
Looking like it’s going to be a good harvest.”

“I’m hoping,” Travis agreed, “but it’s still too early to tell.
I’ll be back as soon as I show Mrs. Hammond the mill.”

Tired of being ignored, Brooke said, “You could introduce me.”

Travis turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. He let out an exasperated breath, then finally said, “Mrs. Hammond, this is James, my overseer.” Travis turned to him. “James this is Mrs. Hammond, my business partner.”

Brooke could have sworn that Travis gritted out the last between his teeth, but she forced herself not to smile.
At least he was halfway cooperating. It was a small step forward.

Perhaps the man did have potential training after all.

She did note the surprised look on the foreman’s face, but he masked it quickly. Brooke felt uneasy about the man, but she didn’t know why. Could be his dark eyes, she thought. They were too small for his face and they shifted continuously.

Finally, he doffed his hat.
“Ma’am,” was all he said, then he turned back to the field to continue his work.

Travis led the way through several fields of cotton and corn, and Brooke noted the many slaves working the fields.
What tremendous pressure Travis carried on his shoulders. No wonder he stayed grumpy, she thought. She probably would feel the same way. However, it was a job he seemed to handle well. Everyone looked to him for answers.

Hopefully, once day they would also look to her for the answers.

The midday sun was now high in the sky, baking the earth. Accustomed to the misty days of England, Brooke basked in the warmth.
How
different from home
, she thought as she rode.

A slight wind blew her hair.
Her hairpins came loose and they began to slip out one by one. Brooke really didn’t care. It felt so lovely to be riding in the fresh air and wild country, instead of boring Hyde Park where the gentry went just to see how one was dressed. Seeing this beautiful country made London seemed like a long-ago memory. Brooke didn’t miss anything about the city.

They paused at one of the cotton fields, which looked more like a field of snow than cotton.
“I’ve never seen cotton growing before,” Brooke said. “It’s amazing that cloth can be made out of something a plant can produce.”

Travis nodded in agreement.

“How old were you when you came to Moss Grove?” she asked.

“Sixteen.”

She shook her head. “Such a young age to take on so much responsibility.”

“Sometimes one has no choice, Brooke.”

“That is one thing you don’t have to tell me about,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve been in that situation more than once.”

His single statement tugged at her heart.
Brooke sensed there was so much more to Travis than he let anyone see, and before she realized what she was doing, she’d reached across and touched his hand. “Your family must be proud of you.”

She wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, but it was quickly masked, and she realized she’d stepped across the invisible line that Travis had erected.
He withdrew back into his shell.

“Let’s head for the mill.
I have work to do there,” Travis said, his tone much sharper than before. He nudged his horse forward, not bothering to wait for her.

To her annoyance, Brooke found herself blushing.
She sighed as she muttered to herself, “So much for being nice.” Then she clicked her tongue, and flicked the reins, Gray Mist took off in the direction that Travis had ridden. How could she penetrate the deliberate blankness in his eyes? And more important . . . why did she care?

Brooke wondered if Travis realized that he’d finally called her by her given name.

Could his ice be melting just a little?

“Who in the hell is that?”
Jeremy Dubois asked as Travis dismounted and handed the reins over to the groom.

Travis didn’t have to look.
He knew who Jeremy referred to, but Travis turned anyway to see Brooke galloping in from the field. “My new partner,” he drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. He felt increasing leery of the woman with each passing moment.

“Your what?” Jeremy, who owned the plantation next to Travis, asked.

“It’s a long story.” Travis brushed him off, signaling an end to the conversation.

“Hello,” Brooke said as she dismounted.

The dark-haired gentleman in front of her gave her a sweeping bow. “It’s nice to meet you.” He had handsome well-chiseled features and sinfully dark hair, but it was his dazzling smile that held Brooke’s intention. His smile was a refreshing break from Travis’s ever-present scowl.

“Jeremy Dubois, may I introduce you to Brooke Hammond.”

“And your partner, I believe you said.” Jeremy grinned, as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I must say you have excellent taste, Travis. And my curiosity will kill me if you don’t tell me how you found such a lovely creature.”

Brooke found Jeremy’s attitude refreshing after Travis’s rude treatment.

“He didn’t find me, Mr. Dubois, I found him,” Brooke informed Jeremy, enjoying the look of surprise on his face.
“Do you work here, as well?”

“Good Lord, I hope not,” Jeremy said with mock alarm.
He laughed. “I have my hands full with my own plantation.”

“Jeremy is a friend . . . most of the time,” Travis drawled.
“He owns Slow River, the plantation next to mine.”

“Once you’re settled in, you must bring Mrs. Hammond over to call.
And bring Mr. Hammond, too,” he added.

At least this one had charm and manners, Brooke thought.
“There is no Mr. Hammond, I’m a widow,” she lied. “Calling me Mrs. Hammond makes me feel so elderly. Please call me Brooke.”

“I’d be honored,” Jeremy drawled, amusement flickering in his green eyes.
“So this means that
you
are Travis’s partner and not your husband?”

She nodded.

Jeremy threw his head back and roared with so much laughter that Brooke had to wonder what the previous conversation had been about.

Travis didn’t join in Jeremy’s amusement.
Instead he asked him, “What brings you to Moss Grove, Jeremy? I thought you started your own harvest three days ago.”

“I did,” Jeremy confirmed once he stopped laughing.
“My sugarmaker has come down with the grippe, and I’ve got to find a replacement for him. As you are aware, without a sugarmaker, the end of the harvest is in jeopardy. I thought maybe Morgan might know someone.”

Travis nodded.
“I can see your dilemma. Let’s go and find out,” Travis said.

Both men ignored her completely as they walked toward the building
, leaving Brook on her own. Their manners were deplorable to say the least. And she was sure that Travis was sending her a message that she wasn’t needed. And the truth was . . . she wasn’t needed.

Brooke really didn’t understand
Mr. Dubois’s problem, but both men appeared very concerned about this person who they called the sugarmaker. Nonetheless, she wasn’t going to stand outside like a child waiting for her parent to return. She’d never learn anything that way.

She tied Gray Mist under a tree so the horse could munch on the green grass, then she followed them over to the sugarhouse.

The sugarhouse, which was nothing more than a simple shed, seemed to be a beehive of activity. Brooke was surprised at the various apparatus used for crushing the cane. She paused and watched, knowing she needed a firm understanding of how her plantation operated. She now realized that it would take her a long time before she could ever attempt to run something the size of Moss Grove. Another reason that marrying Travis sounded better than it first did.

As soon as she stepped into the open end of the shed, the sweet, pungent air from inside felt like a hot breath in her face. She noticed that everyone working under the shed wore their shirtsleeves rolled up or no shirts at all.
And she could understand why. Here she was dressed in long sleeves and full skirts, and her clothing was already damp and clinging to her.

Over in a corner she saw the piles of stalks that had been brought up from the field.
A few of the women were hand-feeding the stalks one at a time into a set of rollers, one on top of the other, designed to crush and force the juice from the cane -- at least, she assumed so since there was a collecting pot underneath. The rollers were turned by mules who plodded around and around in an endless circle.

As she continued her exploration, Brooke saw three huge boiling pots.
The heat from the fires beneath each kettle threw off a tremendous heat. She didn’t know how any of workers stayed in here. Three men, one behind each pot, stirred continuously. They glanced up at her for only a moment, then turned back to the task at hand. She wasn’t sure what they were doing, but it was obviously important. It was apparent that she would have to wait until Travis had time to explain the process because nobody seemed to have time to speak to her, much less explain what they were doing.

A big black man in a plaid shirt was dragging a bundle of crushed can over to the pots.
The two men tossed the cane scraps onto the flames. The fires belched great puffs of black smoke up the chimneys, producing heat so intense the air became hazy.

Brooke felt like she was choking.
He air stung her nose and her eyes began to water. Her eyes were watering so bad that she didn’t see the sparks shoot out from the fire toward her.

“
Watch out!” someone shouted.

Brooke heard the warning but didn’t know what or whom they were shouting at.
She turned to see why everyone was waving at her, but she couldn’t see anything.

The next thing Brooke knew someone had clamped an arm around her waist and hauled her out of the sugarhouse.

Once outside, she was sat on her feet where she immediately began coughing. She jerked her handkerchief out of her sleeve to wipe her eyes. It took several gulps of clean air before her coughing subsided and she could see again. What had just happened in there?

Travis
brushed at her skirts as he swore. “You little fool,” she heard him hiss from behind her.

“What are you doing?” Brooke retorted, jerking at her skirt.
“I am not a rug.” She felt much like a quilt that someone was trying to beat the dirt out of.

“Trying to keep you from setting your fool self on fire,” he angrily informed her.
“I don’t have time to hold your hand.”

“I never ask you to!” she spat and then looked down, gaping at the smoke coming from the hem of her skirt.
“Oh, no.” She had no idea she’d gotten so close to the fire.

“You must be careful around the boiling pots,” Jeremy cautioned.
“As you can see, they can be very dangerous.”

“I’m so sorry.
I didn’t know, but it was so smoky in there that I couldn’t see anything. I must have stumbled. I must have gotten too close.”

“That’s no excuse for your carelessness.”
Travis was quick to point out. “You could have been burnt to a crisp.”

“And no doubt that would have pleased you,” Brook
e snapped.

Travis gave her a slow grin as he came to within an inch of her face.
“It might have been one way to rid myself of you.”

Even though she wanted to hit him for his remark, she wanted to kiss him even more.
And that made no sense at all to her. But it just might take that smug look off his face.

“You’re not that lucky, Mr. Montgomery,” she said with a slight smile.
“You’ll never be rid of me.”

Chapter Six

That’s what I’m afraid of
, Travis thought to himself as he watched Jeremy help Brooke mount. Travis knew he didn’t need to touch the woman -- it was too dangerous -- and he wasn’t too sure he wanted his friend touching her, either.

Brooke didn’t so much as look his way before she galloped off . . . not that he cared, he tried to convince himself.
He was used to getting what he wanted and ignoring what he couldn’t get, but in this case, he was finding it difficult to put Mrs. Hammond completely out of his mind. He had a sinking feeling that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be completely rid of Brooke, as she had warned him.

Jeremy rejoined him.
“You have some partner there, I’d say,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the departing woman. He nodded his approval, and that irked Travis further. “What are you going to do with her?”

“Scare her away.”

Jeremy chuckled. “I hate to tell you this, but she doesn’t look like the type that scares. In fact, I’d say she looked pretty determined just now when she rode off.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So, how did the intriguing lady come to be your partner? I can’t fathom you finding her on your own, nor can I believe you actually want a business partner.”