Wilde, Jennifer (55 page)

"I
want you, Marietta."

"You
want to sleep with me. You're not alone. There are dozens of men who'd give
anything to be able to take me away from Jeff. Most of them have tried. I've
never once been unfaithful to him." I gave him a piercing look, and asked,
"You told me you're leaving for England shortly."

"That's
true."

"And
it would be nice to have a bed partner until it's time to leave, wouldn't it?
Go find yourself a beautiful whore. New Orleans is full of them. I don't consider
myself one of them."

Derek
didn't reply. I tried to control the tremors inside, tried to deny the aching
desire that grew steadily. I longed to touch that jagged scar, that wide,
determined mouth. I hated him for what he was doing to me, hated myself for
feeling the emotions of old. The palm fronds rattled in the wind. From across
the courtyard there came a throaty laugh, the sound of a brief scuffle, a moan
smothered by a kiss.

"You're
trembling," he said.

"I—I'm
going back inside now. I have duties."

"You're
not going anywhere," he said softly.

He
pulled me toward him, sliding one arm around my waist and the other around my
neck, tilting his head to one side as he leaned down, covering my mouth with
his. I tried desperately to resist as those firm, moist lips pressed and
probed, demanding the response I could withhold no longer. He parted my lips
with his own, clasping me against him, and my head seemed to swim and the world
seemed to recede. There was nothing but this man, that mouth, these emotions sweeping
over me and rendering me helpless. My arms circled his broad shoulders, and I
melted against him in total surrender.

It
seemed an eternity before he finally released me. I leaned back against the
wall, looking up at him with tears in my eyes. The wind ruffled his hair, and
in the faint mist of moonlight his face was stony, the face of a victor,
stamped with satisfaction. I actually hated him at that moment, hated him even
as I longed for those strong arms to enfold me once more, longed for that mouth
to resume its sweet torture. Derek knew, and he nodded. It was a while before I
could speak. My voice trembled.

"I—I'll
never forgive you for that."

"I
imagine you will. You love me and want me as much as I want you. I'll leave
now. I don't intend to force you to do anything you don't want to do. You still
have the key."

"You
actually think I—"

"You'll
come," he said, "and I'll be waiting. There's just one more thing I
want to say. I love you, Marietta. There, I've used the words. I love you. I
loved you from the first. I should have told you."

"Derek—"

"I'll
be waiting, Marietta."

He
turned then and moved away from me. I heard his footsteps sounding on the
tiles, and then he was gone and I was alone in the courtyard. All of the others
had gone inside. As I listened to the crickets, to the splash of the fountain,
to the lilting music muted by distance, I knew that he had won. I was helpless
against the emotions still smouldering inside. I wiped the tears from my cheeks
and tried to compose myself, but several minutes passed before I finally had
the strength to go inside and bid the last of the guests goodbye.

Perhaps
today would be the day. There wasn't much time left. Although he hadn't
mentioned it, I had heard that the ship for England would be leaving New
Orleans on Monday, only five days from now. He hadn't talked about it at all,
hadn't given the least indication that he planned to take me with him, but in
my heart I was sure that's what he intended. Perhaps today he would tell me. He
would be very casual and matter of fact, would simply tell me that I was going
with him and should start making arrangements. He had probably already
purchased my passage.

He
loved me. After all this time he had finally said the words, and although he
had not repeated them, he had shown his love in a thousand small ways. Derek
wasn't a demonstrative man, but he couldn't entirely conceal his emotions
behind that stern façade. Each time I saw him he betrayed them with a look, a
casual word, a gesture. He loved me, and when he left for England I would be
with him. He would win his inheritance, would take his place among the
aristocracy, and I would be his wife. How foolish of me to think my background
would make the least difference. The opinion of his peers wouldn't matter in
the least to him. He would be just as disdainful of them as he had been of his
neighbors in Carolina.

I
quickened
my step. It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, and Kyle had let me out in
front of Lucille's only a few minutes ago. He would return to the dress shop at
five. Derek and I would have almost three hours together in that sunny
apartment, where we would talk, deliberately forestalling our trip to the
bedroom, delaying it, savoring the anticipation. Then he would give me that
drowsy look and I would smile and we would make love. Derek would express with
his body, his flesh, all those things he found so difficult to express in
words. Reluctantly, I would return to the dress shop, and Jeff would be none
the wiser.

He
would probably be in his office all afternoon, going over the books in an
effort to make them balance. He still hadn't confided in me what the problem
was, but his face was grim as he worked. He wasn't at all concerned about all my
visits to the dress shop. Actually he seemed pleased that I was planning a new
wardrobe and devoting so much time to it. I think it made him feel less guilty
about seeing Corinne again.

Jeff
hadn't returned the night of the ball, hadn't come back until almost noon the
next day. Corinne had attempted to swallow a bottle of laudanum that night, he
informed me, and he was going to have to break it off gently or the foolish
creature would do something desperate. I could tell that he was flattered she
had gone to such extremes. It bolstered his ego, made him feel dashing. He had
been unusually affable and endearing during these past two and a half weeks, as
though to compensate for his backsliding. The fact remained that he was seeing
her again, regularly, and we hadn't kept our "appointment." Jeff had
no idea how relieved I was about that.

I
would have to tell him soon, of course. It wasn't going to be easy, but I would
try to break it to him as gently as possible. It had been sheer folly even to
consider marrying him. Seeing Derek again had made me realize all the more that
I could never give Jeff the love and total commitment he deserved. Once I was
gone, he would find someone else, someone who could give him all the devotion
he was entitled to. He would be hurt, of course, but in the long run he would
be much happier, I told myself.

I
moved on down the street, my turquoise silk skirt fluttering in the breeze that
cooled the air and laced it with the tang of salt. It was a glorious day, the
sky a light, clear blue awash with silvery sunlight that threw flickering
silver-gold spangles over the mellow brown walls. The city seemed to be charged
with vitality, colors brighter, sounds noisier, its customary lethargy replaced
by an atmosphere of joyous abandon.

I
felt young and radiant. I felt like a girl again, and all because of the happiness
welling up inside. I had never thought I would feel this way again. I turned a
corner, nearing Derek's quarters. The street was lined on either side with
carts of flowers, feisty old women in faded shawls standing beside them, urging
people to buy. There were golden marigolds, yellow chrysanthemums, blue
larkspurs, pale lilacs, scarlet azaleas, their colors offset by the brown stone
walls. People strolled up and down, stopping to examine, to haggle over prices.
A spotted dog was barking lustily, tail awag. A stout black woman in starched
blue dress and white bandana moved purposefully along, holding the hands of two
beautiful little girls with long blond ringlets.

I
had told no one about these visits, not even Angie. Angie was immersed in her
own affair, for Kyle had indeed succumbed the night of the ball and, to her
horror and delight, declared that he intended to marry her, if only to keep her
in line. She thought the idea outrageous, but she was beginning to warm to it
day by day. The scrappy little sparrow was fast becoming a docile, devoted pet.
Angie didn't suspect the true reason for my daily trips to Lucille's, and
Lucille herself asked no questions. She knew I was using her shop as a blind
and accepted it with cool sophistication.

Reaching
the intricately wrought black iron gate, I pushed it open and stepped into the
sun-drenched patio with its blue slate tiles and splashing fountain. Buildings rose
on three sides, festooned with ornate iron balconies on two levels. A brilliantly
crested white cockatoo strutted restlessly on a slender yellow swing suspended
from one of the dwarf palms, cawing loudly as I took the key from my reticule
and inserted it in the lock. Valjean's rooms were on the ground floor, facing
the gate, spacious, expensively appointed rooms designed for comfort.

"Derek?"
I called.

"I'm
in here. In the sitting room."

I
stepped
to the door, smiling. Derek was sitting in one of the plush tan velvet chairs,
sunlight spilling over him from the windows directly behind. His hair was
disarrayed, and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes. I knew that he had
made a delivery last night, and I suspected that he had just gotten out of bed
and dressed. The deep coral draperies billowed behind him as the breeze swept
into the room. He continued to lounge in the chair, looking at me with drowsy
gray eyes.

"You're
so gallant," I remarked. "A gentleman is supposed to get up when a
lady enters the room."

"I'm
no gentleman."

"I'm
delighted you're so glad to see me."

"I'm
glad to see you," he said.

"Are
you?"

"I'm
tired. I didn't get back until five o'clock this morning."

"Perhaps
I should leave," I teased.

"I'm
not that tired."

Lounging
with one leg slung over the arm of the chair, he examined me with lazy
appraisal. The turquoise dress was new, a deep, rich silk, and I knew it went
well with my coppery auburn hair. The petticoats beneath were in varying shades
of green and blue. Derek liked what he saw. I was glad I had taken such care in
selecting the dress and arranging my hair. I wanted to be attractive for him.
Lazily he contemplated me with lids drooping and gray eyes darkening with
desire, and then he scowled and looked away, almost as though he were irritated
with himself for wanting me.

I
understood all too well. Derek loved me, but he did so grudgingly. He wasn't at
all pleased to find himself a prey to the emotions I aroused. They made him
feel vulnerable, and Derek equated that with weakness. One day, when he had his
rightful place in the world, when he was at peace with himself, he would learn
to accept his feelings. I was willing to be patient. Against his will or not,
he loved me, and that was all that mattered now.

"You
had a bad night," I said.

"I
had a bad night."

"Something
happened?"

"When
we were bringing the boat through the swamp, we ran into a Spanish patrol. We
exchanged fire. One of my men was wounded. We evaded the patrol, but Peters
almost bled to death in the boat before I could get him to a doctor."

"Do
things like that happen frequently?"

"It's
a risky occupation. I've seen lots of men die. I've had to kill a man myself.
That's why I have this scar. The chap who gave it to me intended to cut my
throat. I had to run him through."

"It
must have been dreadful."

"Some
men can kill with ease. I'm not one of them. I'll have him on my conscience for
the rest of my life."

"Even
though he meant to kill you?"

"I'll
never kill another man, no matter what the circumstances."

He
got to his feet and stepped over to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy
from the crystal decanter. Leaning against the sideboard, he stared down at the
glass in his hand as though contemplating whether or not to drink it.

"It
was my last," he said.

"I
don't understand."

"My
last delivery. I'm finished with smuggling as of last night. My business in New
Orleans is over."

"You've
always detested it, haven't you?"

"It
meant money."

"And
now you have all you need."

"Now
I have all I need. There'll be no more boat rides through swamps in the dead of
night, no more fights with greedy employees who want to make a bit on the side,
no more shady transactions with nervous customers who always believe you're
cheating them."

"You
never told me how you got into smuggling."

"There's
a lot I haven't told you, Marietta."

"I
didn't mean to pry."

"Before
I went into smuggling, I signed on with a slaver. I met him in Charles Town,
right after I'd lost the plantation. He needed a second-in-command. I agreed to
take the job. We sailed for Africa. I saw things I hope never to see again. It
changed my ideas about slavery entirely. On the journey back we docked in
Martinique. I left ship, took what gold was coming to me, and left. I vowed
never to own another slave."