Destiny's Daughter (26 page)

"What choice do you have?"

She drew in a long, ragged breath. "I can give in to his demands."

"Never." His hands at her shoulders tightened until she nearly cried out. His voice was so low with anger it sounded like a stranger’s. "You can never give in to the Montagnets of this world. They’re insatiable. They’re obsessed with power. With Montagnet, it’s the need to control people. You dared to defy him. You have only one choice now. Stand and fight."

"What if he kills Luther the next time?"

Chase drew her to her feet and brought his arms around her, holding her close to his heart. Against her temple, he murmured, "He won’t."

"How can you be certain?"

"Because the next time he strikes, I’ll be here. And it will give me the greatest pleasure to kill Charles Montagnet."

"You can’t be here all the time."

"Why can’t I?"

Annalisa looked up at his eyes. They were hard, unyielding.

Because, she thought, you have a life to live. A job to do. Because your presence would create problems in my life. Her thoughts were beginning to scatter. She was tired. So tired. If Chase were to live under this roof, there would be no way she could continue to fight her attraction for him. But she would argue with him tomorrow. Now, or for the few hours left until dawn, she just wanted him to hold her close and let her absorb some of his strength.

"You’ll stay until morning?"

He lifted her in his arms and carried her out of her office and up the stairs. As she snuggled her head to his shoulder, her eyes closed. Against her cheek he murmured, "You weren’t listening. I’m moving in."

Annalisa awoke to the sound of activity. From the yard below she heard the muffled shouts of men’s voices. Wagon wheels clattered. Hammers rang against wood. Startled, she leaped from her bed and hurried to the window. Amidst the chaos she spotted Chase, looking cool and composed in crisp white shirt and black riding breeches, directing the workmen. While Annalisa watched, a crew of men lifted the charred remains of her once elegant carriage, dumping it unceremoniously into a wagon littered with debris. Several men were breaking apart what remained of the fire-scarred walls of the barn before loading them into wagons for disposal.

Chase turned and glanced up, his lips curving into a smile when he saw her at the window. Had he sensed her there at the window? She returned the smile and felt her mouth go dry. Even from so great a distance, he could touch her with only a look, a smile. When a workman called to him, Chase returned his attention to the job at hand.

Kneeling on the cool floor, Annalisa leaned her arms on the windowsill and rested her chin on her hands. The horror of last night was etched clearly in her mind. She had never come so close to death as she had when she’d continued walking with Luther. Even the attack in her office hadn’t gripped her with such terror. At least there, she was able to fight back, however weakly. But turning her back on a man with a rifle and daring to walk away beside her friends had taken courage she never knew she possessed.

Added to her terror was the backbreaking effort to stop the spread of the flames. Her hands were torn and blistered, her shoulders still ached. But in the end she and the others had been forced to stand by and watch helplessly as fire consumed the entire structure.

She could barely remember Chase carrying her to bed. She must have fallen asleep even before he lowered her to the mattress. She could recall his strong arms holding her against his chest, could still feel the strength, the comfort that she had clung to. And she could almost remember his lips pressed to her cheek as she snuggled into her bed—or had she imagined it? She thought he sat and held her for a while, but she wasn’t certain. She knew only that she had slept soundly, feeling safe and secure.

The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, and she hurried to bathe and dress. Downstairs, the maids wore grim, nervous expressions.

Hattie Lee lifted a steaming cup to her lips and turned a glum face at Annalisa’s arrival. "Everything tastes burnt. Even the coffee."

"A few days from now we’ll never even notice." Annalisa forced a cheerful attitude as she poured herself a cup. "If we’re lucky, maybe a fresh wind will blow off the river."

"Anything the lady desires." Chase crossed the back porch and strode into the kitchen.

As if on cue, through the open door a stiff breeze ruffled the tablecloth.

Just the sight of him lifted Annalisa’s spirits.

"How long will it be before the workmen clear away the ashes?" Hattie Lee asked.

"With enough help, two days. Maybe three. We should have a new barn finished before next month."

"Unless our uninvited guests decide to torch it again."

Chase glanced at Hattie Lee’s unsmiling face. "It isn’t like you to be so negative, Hattie Lee. What’s wrong?" His tone was guarded. "Is it Luther?"

Hattie Lee shook her head. "He’s holding on. Eulalie says he slept fitfully." She frowned. "We’ll have to move him from the parlor. Eulalie insists we take him to her room where she can nurse him. But I don’t know how we can possibly get him up those steep stairs. I don’t think he’ll survive such a move."

"Have the women make up a pallet of blankets," Chase said quickly. "I’ll have some of the workmen get him upstairs with very little strain on Luther’s wounds."

Hattie Lee slanted a look at Annalisa. "Eulalie won’t be able to work with him in her room."

"She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her work anyway," Annalisa said gently. "I think Eulalie’s loving care will be the best medicine of all for Luther."

"I don’t think Eulalie has ever had anyone of her own to worry about before," Chase added. "You may have lost one of your women, Hattie Lee."

Seeing her quick frown, he asked, "Is that what’s bothering you?"

She shook her head. Her tone became low, angry. "I’ve heard about those men who hide behind hoods and go about burning and killing. They’ve vowed to keep on spreading their wickedness until all people of color are driven from the land."

"They won’t succeed," Chase said, touching a hand to her shoulder.

"Neither will they back down."

"Nor will we. If they return, we’ll be ready for them."

"It’s the waiting," the older woman said, rubbing a hand wearily along her arm.

"I know." Chase turned and smiled at the cook. "I think one of your beignets would cheer me, Thelma."

The cook’s grim features relaxed into a smile. "I made them fresh just for you."

Biting into one, he licked sugar from his lip and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You’ve made my day sweeter, Thelma."

Almost hesitantly the old woman touched a hand to her cheek then began loading a platter with freshly baked goods for the workers.

Annalisa watched as Chase continued weaving his charm. The maids giggled and blushed and found a dozen chores that would keep them in the kitchen while Chase enjoyed his breakfast.

"We’ve lost most of the whiskey," Hattie Lee said, "and those new gowns I’d designed have all gone up in smoke."

"The beauties who live in this house have enough gowns to last a lifetime," Chase said soothingly. "They can make do with the clothes in their closets. At least until I can locate another shipment of silk."

"And the whiskey?" the black woman said bleakly. "How long will our customers last without fine whiskey?"

"If all goes well, there should be a shipment coming through the bayou tonight." Giving her a bright smile, Chase downed his coffee and reached for another fried cake.

Annalisa watched the slow transformation in the older woman. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her eyes warmed. "You have an answer for everything, don’t you, Chase Masters?" Her voice lowered. "They won’t beat us, will they?"

"Never." His tone was light, but Annalisa heard the underlying thread of steel. "Their kind can never beat us."

Hattie Lee seemed to draw herself up straighter. Noting the maids who lingered in the kitchen, she began giving orders in that low, honeyed voice. "Why is the parlor not aired out yet? Have you set up a bed in the office for our guest? What about Eulalie’s room? She’ll need water, towels, blankets for Luther. Why are you standing about? Sweet Lord almighty, there’s work to be done."

The women scattered, and Annalisa found herself alone with Chase.

"How do you manage to sweep away everyone’s bad humor with a few words?"

He smiled, that familiar self-deprecating smile. "It’s part of my charm."

She shook her head. "I wouldn’t have believed you could calm Hattie Lee with so little effort."

"She was just tired. All of you are. It was a long night." His tone softened. "How did you sleep?"

She shivered at the tender look in his eyes. "Like a babe in a cradle."

As she reached for a beignet, he caught her hand and turned it over, studying the raw, blistered flesh. His smile faded. His mouth tightened to a grim line. Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss into her palm. She stood very still, absorbing the shock. Outside, one of the men called his name. Ignoring the distraction, he touched a hand to her cheek. The workman called him again, in a louder voice. With a sigh, Chase turned away. At the door he paused. "I want you to have Dr. Lynch look at those hands when he comes to examine Luther."

"It isn’t important. They’ll heal."

He was across the room in swift strides. Catching her roughly by the shoulders he muttered, "I won’t brook any argument about it. It’s important to me. Now have the doctor look at your hands."

Without another glance he strode from the room.

*  *  *

The talk that night was animated.

"Hooded men, you say? Did they recognize any of them?" Edmond Lafourcade watched as Annalisa moved about the room, smiling, flirting, as if nothing had happened.

"They claimed not to," the police chief said, sipping his whiskey.

"They should have given up the nigger," the mayor-elect responded dryly. "They could have done without a handyman easier than they can do without a barn."

"I suppose then they’d be back the next night demanding Hattie Lee."

"No loss," Lafourcade said with a shrug. "Just one more nigger."

"Miss Montgomery seems to be a woman of strong principles," Boulanger remarked.

One of the group laughed. "She may be a dead woman of principles."

Chase showed no expression as he listened to the conversation drift around him. When Charles Montagnet entered, his eyes narrowed. It was the only change in his expression.

"Good evening, my dear." Montagnet bowed over Annalisa’s lace-gloved hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. "What is this I hear? A little trouble last night? I hope none of you was hurt."

"Your concern is touching. My handyman was seriously wounded. He lies upstairs, fighting for his life."

"And you, Annalisa? Were you harmed?"

She gave him a cool look. "As you can see, I survived."

"I’ve never seen you wear these before." Lifting her hand, he studied the lacy, fingerless gloves, then turned her palm up. Through the ivory filigree he could see the stark white bandages. "Have you cut yourself?"

Yanking her hand from his grasp, she said in a low tone, "You wear your false concern well, Charles. But now you can stop this hypocrisy. You know very well that my life was threatened last night."

"And how could I know that?"

"Because it was done on your orders."

"If you are suggesting that I was somehow involved in last night’s incident, you are wrong." Catching her shoulder, he leaned close and whispered, "If I had wanted you dead, you would be."

"Take your hand from me." Seeing the surprised expression on his face, she pressed her advantage. "If you should forget and touch me again, I shall be forced to do something most unpleasant."

"Weep?" he asked with mock concern.

She lifted her chin and gave him a look of cool dismissal. "I’ll be forced to shoot you."

She swept past him without another glance. Across the room, Chase saw the look of pure hatred that clouded Montagnet’s features. The man was getting close to the breaking point. And that made him even more dangerous.

The hour was late when Nate Blackwell arrived. Seeing Annalisa across the room, he hurried to her side.

"I heard that your barn was burned. Were you hurt?"

She was moved by the look of concern that marred his handsome features. "No, Nate. I’m fine. But where have you been? You’ve been away so long."

As she studied his face she noted the faint smudges beneath his eyes, the weary lines that etched his mouth.

"I have been—keeping to myself. I needed to be alone."

"It isn’t good to be alone." Linking her arm through his, she led him to a settee. "Stay awhile. Have a glass of sherry with me."

With a little half-smile playing about his lips, he allowed himself to savor her tender ministrations. "You spoil me, Annalisa." Accepting a glass of the amber liquid from a maid, he sipped and felt himself relax. It was the first time the tension had left him in weeks. "I heard a rumor that your attackers were hooded. Is this true?"

Annalisa nodded and quickly told him what had happened. When she finished, his face was visibly paler. Reaching out a hand to hers, he said, "You must not stay here."

Annalisa glanced at the hand covering hers and wondered, as she had so often, why she felt nothing at his touch. Meeting his gaze she replied, "Where would I go?"

"I don’t know. Somewhere far away from this place." His tone deepened. "Leave New Orleans, Annalisa. Something evil is happening here."

"We can fight it, Nate." She wondered if this would be the time that he would tell her about his role as the Archangel. She wanted him to share his secret with her, so that she could finally tell him how much she admired him. Pressing on, she said softly, "We’re strong enough to fight the evil. Look how much has already been done to help the less fortunate."

"And do you think some mysterious archangel will intervene in your fight with these hooded ones? Is that it, Annalisa?" He sounded genuinely frightened. "What will it take for you to stop believing that good always triumphs over evil?"

Annalisa gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. "Are you testing me?" At his blank expression her smile grew. "That’s it. This is a test of my will. Oh, Nate. You know I believe in miracles. And though you try to hide it, you do, too."

Signaling for the maid, Annalisa handed him another glass of sherry and noted that while they talked, his color gradually improved.

Across the room, Chase watched the two figures on the settee and fought a wave of bitter jealousy.