Tell Me I'm Dreamin' (26 page)

Nadine's hands trembled along with the paper. Had she been back in Ashland with its down-home ways, the entire story would have seemed preposterous. She would have told Basil where to get off, perhaps reported him to the authorities, and that would have been that. But here on Eros, there was a different sense of reality. Things she would not dare to believe at home seemed highly possible here in this land of legends, myths, and visions.

Suddenly afraid, she asked herself what should she care that Ulysses and Sovereign were in trouble. He was a man from a foreign world, far removed from her own. They were not her problem. But Nadine knew that was not true. She had fallen in love with the foreigner, and she did care. Oh, God, how she cared.

She heard her own sob before she realized she was crying. She looked at the promissory note that Basil was using against Ulysses, and saw that it was wet with her tears. When Nadine read Verda's last words the night before, she had taken the prophesy seriously, but not literally. Today was a rude awakening, for Nadine believed going to Basil was the debt she was destined to pay. Still, she forced herself to close her mind and her heart against the thought, that Basil was the man Verda prophesied with whom she would be united.

Chapter
22

Cassandra pressed her body further inside the gap between the two piles of fruit crates. She had managed to avoid Ulysses while the ferry was returning from Barbados, but as the passengers lined up to disembark down the gangway, she almost ended up beside him.

The smell of rotted fruit filled her nostrils so she held her breath. Only for you, Rodney, would I be doing this, she thought as she watched Ulysses join the passengers at the top of the gangway.

Cassandra had to fight the part of her that desperately wanted Ulysses to know she was there. The part that wanted to taunt him, and tell him why she had gone to Barbados. It would serve him right for talking to her so roughly during the festival at the rum still that day. She was still hurt because Ulysses had not come to see her even once since then, and Cassandra believed it was all because of the American.

As the truth would have it, she was glad when she heard the woman had left the island. She believed things between Ulysses and her would get back to normal, but they never did. Her beautiful, dark eyes burned with scorn as she watched Ulysses progress down the ramp.

When he stepped on land, Cassandra thought, You're not the only rich man on Eros, Ulysses Deane. She bent over and picked up the medium-sized box wrapped in brown paper. For a moment her curiosity almost got the best of her, and she was tempted to tear the package open and see what was inside.

Cassandra had tried to convince the owner of the little shop to tell her what the parcel held. She had used her feminine charms to persuade him. More than once she had leaned forward, allowing him a good look at her bosom. But in the end he had only offered her money for her favors, stating he did not get involved in the affairs of the upper class.

Cassandra tossed her black hair as she made her way into the last group of exiting passengers. She held her head high as she walked amongst the other islanders. Now, she was the woman of a very important man. Yes, Rodney Sharpe had told her as much. Her eyes narrowed as she looked into the future. She had no intentions of remaining his woman for too long without a real commitment, and from the way Cassandra saw it, they were well on their way.

She looked down at the box she carried. Had not Rodney trusted her with this very important transaction? He had said there was no one else that he could rely on, and that she would be playing a big part in his life in the future.

Cassandra smiled and sighed as she pressed through the crowd, rudely hitting more than one passenger with her package. But why should she care? Soon she would be the first wife to be taken by one of the Sharpes.

Rodney watched his sister with mixed emotions. He never thought he would see the day when she would threaten him and call him weak, but that day had come.

“I asked you to take Nadine and me out, or to at least spend some time with her, and you never did that.” Melanie made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “You have spent more than your share of Sharpe Hall's fortune on the frivolous things you wanted, even if you did not need them, never thinking of anyone but yourself.” She stared into his eyes. “You know there have been many times I have put your happiness before my own, Rodney, and the one time I asked you to do something for me, you could not even do that without thinking of yourself.” Her shrill voice reeked with accusation. “I told you to pick up that package from Barbados, but instead you decided to send your newest play toy. Has she turned your head so far that you had to bring her into what I told you should be kept a secret?”

“I never told her what was in the package,” Rodney tossed back at her, flustered. “My God, Melanie, the package is wrapped up! How is she going to know what is inside?”

“Still, I cannot believe you did that,” Melanie continued to storm. “Have I not always been here for you, Rodney? Spoiling you when no one else would? And that has been from the time when you were small until now.” She crossed her arms below her breasts as she paced. “Father had been too busy making money and taking his pleasure wherever he could find it. And Mother,” her eyes clouded over, “probably contributed to half of Sovereign's rum fortune with her love of alcohol, and because of that, along with Father's evil ways, she died early and left us.” Melanie turned toward Rodney. “So it has always been my arms that have comforted you whenever you were hurt or frightened. Which was often. Now the time has come for you to pay me back for all my loyalty to you, and you do this.”

“I am sorry, Melanie. I know how good you have been to me. My memory is just as good as yours,” Rodney retorted with hurt residing below his anger. The pain of how Melanie was talking to him overlapped with the hurt of never really having known his mother. “I cannot recall one week when I was still a boy that Father did not belittle Mother. Calling her a drunk, and asking her what good was she if she could not even perform her wifely duties.” He sat down on the window ledge and looked out as he continued. “The three of us, you, Basil, and I, would huddle in a nearby room, and pray that he would stop his tirade before he began to beat her again.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “But our prayers always seem to go unanswered. It went on for years and Basil threatened one day he would put a stop to it all.” Rodney looked down at his hands. “I do not think I will ever forget the day when he tried.” His voice recaptured the fear and horror that he felt as a child.

“Neither will I,” Melanie said, looking at the whips that hung on the wall. “Basil was only twelve,” she took up where Rodney left off, “when he took one of his riding crops and went into the room where they were arguing. You and I were scared to death as we listened in the next room. Father's voice was angry, but there was something else beneath it as he badgered Basil for what he called his chivalry. Now when I think back on it, from the sound of his voice, I know he was receiving a strange kind of excitement from what was happening. Father even laughed when he asked Basil what he planned to do with his little whip.” Melanie had stopped her pacing; her hands rose and fell as they stroked her forearms. “I was shocked to hear Basil speak up so loud and clear. There was no fear in his voice when he confronted Father, telling him the beatings were going to have to stop. Father laughed.” She looked up at the ceiling. “To me he sounded like a demon, and then he said, ‘So let's see if you will strike me if I strike her.'”

Rodney went and stood beside his sister.

“That is when Mother screamed,” Melanie continued. “And it sounded like there was a scuffle, and then Father's voice was so loud I remember covering my ears, but I was still able to hear him say, ‘You will pay for this day for the rest of your life, boy.'”

“And that is when things got totally out of hand,” Rodney said with a loud sigh. “Basil was no match for Father, and he took Basil's whip from him that night and beat him with it severely. After that, the beatings never seemed to stop. They continued almost weekly until Basil was sixteen, and finally he got the best of Father. That time he took the merciless object from him, and reciprocated the punishment that he had received for years. After that Father never touched Mother again, even though she continued to drink.” Rodney looked at his sister. “So I do remember, Melanie, just like you. And I will do anything for you. But I had to stay here today. Basil said he had to go to Sovereign, and you know it has been many years since he has gone there. He told me I had to stay here to make sure there was no gossiping or dissension between the workers. Although I don't know why there would be.”

Melanie looked into the dark eyes that looked so much like her own, and she wondered what her other brother was up to. She had already decided Basil had paid the workers to strike against Sovereign. She knew it would not take much to accomplish that. Many of them resented Ulysses for using the cliff dwellers to do work they felt they could be doing. Paying the workers to strike would be a major thorn in Ulysses' side and she knew Basil would enjoy that. His jealousy and hatred for Ulysses had grown consistently through the years. “Alright. Alright. Maybe I did jump to conclusions,” she admitted, “but you have got to promise me as soon as Cassandra gets here with that package you will send her away immediately. I don't want the servants to get any ideas.” She smoothed her hand over her hair. “They know you've got something going with her, but at least, up till now, you have had the decency not to bring your indiscretions to this house. That means if Cassandra stays here too long, they will become suspicious, and they will attempt to find out what brought her to Sharpe Hall in the first place.” She placed her hand on her younger brother's arm. “This whole thing is very important to us, Rodney. You and me. I have never guided you wrong before, and I won't this time. So just trust me. After this is all over, we will be the most powerful people on the island of Eros. Not Ulysses! Not Basil! But you and me, Rodney.” She gave his arm a reinforcing squeeze.

Rodney could feel Melanie's touch on his arm, long after she had left. The smell of her seemed to linger in the air, the gentle floral scent that she always wore. He gripped the back of the love seat with whitened fingers. He hated when he thought of her like this. When he needed her, wanted her like a brother should never want a sister.

But for years Melanie did not seem to mind his attention. As a matter of fact, she had initiated it on her eighteenth birthday. Rodney was fifteen, and had returned from watching their prize jackass being put to stud with a newly bought donkey.

They had always been very demonstrative toward one another, and this time it was Melanie who needed comforting. He had found her in her favorite place, a tiny room in a far corner of the attic. She had been crying because, she said, no one thought she was attractive, and no one cared for her. Rodney had told her he cared, and that he thought she was beautiful and kind.

Melanie had clung to him for dear life, pulling him down upon her, rubbing her face into his neck and pressing her full body against his. Her long hair had formed a veil across his face and the floral scent of it had been intoxicating.

Rodney did not know if it was the mating that he had just witnessed or his budding hormones that had caused his body to react as it did, revealing to Melanie and to himself that her closeness was causing a very natural involuntary reaction. Eaten up with embarrassment, he tried to cover himself, and attempted to pull away, but Melanie held on to him, preventing his escape. Instead she moaned and claimed now she knew he did find her attractive. They had explored one another in tentative ways that first time, like many others to follow, never taking the game to its culmination.

During a similar, but planned, episode when Rodney was seventeen their secret explorations came to a halt. Rodney's ardor could barely be contained and he wanted more than the petting that his sister had allowed him. But Melanie had stopped him. She scolded him for wanting what she said only her husband should have. She made him feel ashamed and confused. It had been all so confusing. Afterwards she tried to comfort him and make him understand. He had never come to her again.

“Master Rodney.” A low voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes.” His vision adjusted from the past to the present.

“Cassandra Jones is here to see you,” the servant announced.

“Alright. Put her in the library. I will be there right away.”

Rodney thought about the hot-blooded woman who waited for him so obediently within the walls of Sharpe Hall. His mating with Cassandra was almost like touching a hot-burning coal. She consumed him with her passion. She never needed persuading to do the things he craved. She did them eagerly, leaving him totally satiated and satisfied.

He looked at the gold ring he wore on his finger. He had instructed the jeweler to take small crosses and connect them together in order to create the unique design. He wondered if it lent any protection. In his mind the entire Sharpe family seemed to be doomed to hell. Everyone except Melanie. Melanie was good and loving. He would never see her as anything other than that.

Rodney started for the door. Cassandra and Cassandra alone had been able to make him forget during those most intimate moments what he had never been able to culminate with his sister.

Cassandra was his soul's salvation, and he did not care what anyone said. The islanders, Basil, or even Melanie. He wanted Cassandra in his life. She was the only escape he had from his illicit feelings for his sister. And he would have her at any cost.

Chapter
23

“Madame! What are you doing?” Catherine screamed from the door of the courtyard.

At the sound of Catherine's voice Madame Deane's frail body sank down beside the well. She had clung to it as long as she could.