The Pelican Bride (39 page)

“. . . so I was all taken aback when you told the commander about Geneviève’s Bible. That was very bad of you, I vow.”

He gave her an amused look. “Sometimes one must do something
a little bad for a very good reason. You do understand that your sister has been breaking the law for quite some time, do you not?”

“Y-yes, I suppose.” She looked away. “Though owning a Bible does not seem such a terrible crime. She wasn’t hurting anyone.”

“I know,
cherie
, but think. First it’s reading an illegal Bible. Then it’s helping spies to hide in one’s house. Then it’s actually spying for the enemy. Before you know it, you’re shooting dragoons!” He dropped her arm and mimed aiming a rifle. “Boom!”

Aimée jumped. “Don’t do that! You startled me!”

He grinned at her. She was adorable with raindrops in her long eyelashes and her rosebud mouth puckered in irritation. He took her hand and kissed it. “Forgive me,” he said with just the right amount of chagrin.

She sniffed. “I suppose. But I wish you had told me you’d asked the commander for permission to address me. We could have asked Father Henri to post banns yesterday in mass. I was taken all a-fluster when you called me your . . . betrothed.”

He couldn’t tell if she was gratified or angry at his presumption. “It seemed the expedient thing to do. Bienville doesn’t approve of young ladies who take themselves to be more important than they are.”

“Yes, he’s very angry with Françoise.” She wrinkled her little nose. “But it could be that he’s only angry because he loves her and resents it.”

He laughed. “What do you mean?”

“A man who wishes to become married must give up all his mistresses.”

“Where did you get that peculiar notion?”

She removed her hand from his elbow. “A
good
man would do so.”

“Then I am exceptionally relieved not to be a good man.” He caught her arm and hauled her close to him again. “
Cherie
, I am teasing you. Never fear, there is only a little more to do,
and we will be the happiest and richest married couple on two continents.”

She gave him her lovely smile then, and flung her arms around his waist. “Why, what else is there to do? Oh, I know! You’re going to intervene for my sister and make sure she doesn’t stay in prison.”

“I’ll do what I can, of course, but that wasn’t what I meant. I’ve intercepted some rather bad news that will mean we must leave the colony for a little while. You must go home and pack your belongings and be ready at a moment’s notice.” When she looked up at him in wide-eyed fear, he laid a finger over her lips. “But you mustn’t tell anyone. Not your sister, not Madame L’Anglois, not
anyone
. Do you understand?”

Nika stopped to catch her breath, turning her face up to the pouring rain. The litter she had made from Mah-Kah-Twah’s blanket and rope had been getting heavier and harder to pull, and the rain made it worse. The yoke system she had fashioned from a tree branch braced across her chest had worked well, until her bruised muscles began to scream with pain and fatigue.

She dropped the yoke and walked back to assess Mah-Kah-Twah’s condition. She knelt and laid the back of her hand against his cheek. Not long after they staggered away from Azalea’s hogan, his skin had started to burn like a winter fire. Soon he descended into delusional conversations with the priest he called Father Mah-Tu, and an hour later he was too weak to walk. Nika didn’t know how she was going to drag him another step. If only she had a horse or a boat . . .

But wishes got one nowhere. She had prayed for help, and there had been no answer. If only she hadn’t promised to go with him back to the French fort. Leaving her two boys asleep, with only a kiss on each forehead, had brought on pain of life-giving
proportions. The knowledge that they remained safe with Azalea, playing with her children, eating well and sleeping soundly, was the only thing that gave her courage to slip away with Mah-Kah-Twah.

Ah, that and watching his face as he first laid eyes upon his children, tumbled together on a sleeping mat like gangly puppies. He had laid his hand first on Chazeh’s head, then on Tonaw’s, as if in blessing. When she drew him away to rest in another corner of the hogan, he came reluctantly. “I didn’t know,” he murmured in French as he sank exhausted onto his back. His eyes closed. “Nika, I didn’t know.”

“Nika, do you have the book safe?”

At first she thought the question came from her swirling thoughts, but when she looked down at Mah-Kah-Twah, she found his eyes open and lucid. She put her hands on either side of his face. Was it cooler to the touch, or did she only imagine it?

“Is it? Do you have it safe?” His voice was hoarse but clear.

She hurried to uncork her gourd, lift his head, and hold the canteen to his mouth. “Drink,” she commanded. “Yes, it’s safe. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been wrestling an alligator.” He smiled a little.

Her tears, near the surface, overflowed. “Mah-Kah-Twah . . .”

“I was joking,” he said, frowning. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” She sniffed and wiped her face on her rain-drenched skirt.

“Where are we?”

She sighed and looked around. The forest looked familiar. Maybe. “I’m not sure. I wanted to skirt the Mobile village, so I’ve had to go off my usual trail.”

“I hear running water. We’re close to the river.”

“Yes, we could save time if we crossed, but the rain has swollen it so—I’m afraid there will be floods. Mah-Kah-Twah, I’m worried. It’s getting more dangerous with every step.”

He struggled to sit up. She protested and started to make him lie back, but he pushed her hand away. “No, let me—Ah.” Grimacing, he propped himself on his good elbow. “How did you pull me so far?” Admiration and something else shone in his eyes.

She blushed. “I had to. Or Azalea would have ended your misery with her corn pestle.” When he laughed, she grinned at him. “God has given me unusual strength.”

“Yes, he has.” He sobered. “But we can’t continue this way. You have to let me walk.” He looked down at his wound and plucked at the makeshift bandage, which Azalea had re-formed with medicinal herbs and clean leather stripping. It was wet through with rain and seeping blood again. “This feels better.”

“You are not a good liar, my friend.” Nika sighed. “But at least the rain has slacked off a bit. Maybe we should find a place to shelter for an hour or so.”

“No.” Stubborn lines bracketed his mouth. “I have to get to the fort and warn them—” He stopped abruptly. “What is that noise?”

She listened. “I still hear the river. Wait. It’s—footsteps. Shhh. We’ve got to hide.” She got to her feet and crept to the yoke, bent to pick it up.

But Mah-Kah-Twah rolled off the litter and struggled to his hands and knees. He was going to try to walk.

“No!” she whispered. “No, don’t!” She ran to catch him, for surely he was too weak—

But it was too late. He had fainted.

Despairing, she sank down cross-legged and lifted Mah-Kah-Twah’s upper body, cradling his head in her arms.

And that was how they found her.

Dressed in a man’s jacket, breeches, and stockings, Aimée knelt in front of her open trunk, thinking wistfully of her little bedroom
above the bakery in Pont-de-Montvert. She had not remembered it in quite a long time, because it always brought to mind the dragoon with sour breath who had taken it and made her sleep with Ginette. That was after he had tried to sleep in her bed
with
her, and Papa had made him get out.

For months on end, she’d had nightmares about that dragoon, often awakening screaming until Ginette sang to her and dried her tears. She had not had those disturbing dreams in weeks—and she could even think of Papa, and home, without experiencing that horrid suffocating sensation.

Now she was going to leave Louisiane and all her friends behind. She looked around at Madame’s charming little guest room, with its cheval mirror, damask coverlet, and gilded shepherdesses bracketing either side of the door. Madame would be sad to find her gone in the morning, but it couldn’t be helped. One must grow up and take on adult responsibilities.

With a sigh, she fingered her lacy Sunday chemise and the blue mantua that matched her eyes. Julien insisted she could bring nothing with her but a blanket roll and the clothes upon her back. The long overland trip would render female garb impractical. Besides, he added, they would be wise to hide her identity until they reached their destination.

This explanation had mainly served to make her wonder if leaving in such a havey-cavey fashion was a good idea. She and Geneviève had managed to accomplish the journey from the Cévennes all the way to the western coast of France without resorting to disguise. But Julien refused to listen. Perhaps he would become more amenable to her wishes once they were married.

“Mademoiselle, would you like a cup of tea before bed?” chirped a little voice behind her.

Aimée gave a squeak and whirled. “Raindrop! I told you to always knock before you open the door!”

“I thought I heard you call.” The child gave her a sunny smile
as she inspected Aimée’s peculiar garb. “Perhaps you would like company. Wherever you are going.”

“I didn’t call!” Aimée frowned, then added hastily, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Madame thought you might be sick, you have stayed in here so long by yourself. She is very easily upset, and I don’t believe she would like to think of you walking alone in the dark.” Raindrop folded her arms as if daring Aimée to contradict her. “Wherever you are going.”

Aimée gave her an annoyed look. “Where I am going you may not come.”

“Didn’t Jesus say that to somebody?”

“How should I know?” Aimée rolled her eyes. “I’m not the biblical scholar that my sister is.”

Raindrop looked wistful. “I love your sister. I wish she was my sister too.”

The pang of remorse that pierced Aimée directly under Julien’s starched neckcloth was so unfamiliar that she almost didn’t recognize it. Geneviève was a good sister, and it was too bad she must stay locked up in the guardhouse long enough for Aimée to escape with Julien.

“You can borrow her,” Aimée said. “I will not need her for a while.” At least until she and Julien were comfortably situated in Carolina with a baby or two and a house full of servants. Then perhaps she could send for Geneviève to come and live with her. Maiden aunts could be useful, she had heard.

Raindrop giggled. “Mademoiselle, you are funny.”

Aimée sniffed. “I’m happy to amuse you.” Hoping she’d distracted the child, she waved a hand. “I don’t want any tea, and I’m very tired, so please go away.” She pretended to yawn.

But Raindrop looked stubborn. “A moment ago you said you are going somewhere.”

Perhaps she could take Raindrop into her confidence and keep her from tattling to Madame or Ginette. She crooked a finger.
“Come here. I’m going to tell you a secret.” When Raindrop’s eyes widened, Aimée lowered her voice. “Monsieur Dufresne wants to marry me.” That much at least was true.

Raindrop shrugged. “
That
is no secret.”

“Yes, but we are going to do it tonight. Monsieur is waiting for me at the little storehouse on the river bluff.”

“I knew you were going somewhere!” Raindrop’s big eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “But why are you not going to the chapel?”

“Shh! Lower your voice.” She leaned in close to the child’s ear. “We are . . . going on a trip, and Madame would not like it, so don’t tell her. Listen, Julien will be worried, and I’m not quite ready to go. Please run down to the warehouse and tell him I’ll be there directly.” Julien would think she had gone as far out of her mind as Ysabeau, but on such short notice, Aimée couldn’t think of another way to get rid of her little nemesis.

Raindrop looked at her doubtfully. “How much longer will you be?”

“Another fifteen minutes should do it.” By the time Raindrop returned to tell Madame, Aimée and Julien would be long gone, and no one could catch her and make her stay. “Hurry! Julien will be watching for me.”

Raindrop smiled. “I will run like lightning!”