Destiny's Daughter (27 page)

*  *  *

Wearily Annalisa made her way to the office with the night’s receipts. The evening had seemed endless, and the last of their visitors had left an hour ago. As soon as they were alone, Chase’s men had arrived with the shipments that had been transported through backwaters and bayous to avoid detection. Hattie Lee had insisted on checking every crate and box before going to bed. Now, with the others having retired, Annalisa couldn’t wait to record the night’s receipts and go to her room.

Opening the door, she paused at the sight of Chase, standing shirtless by the window.

"Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot that Hattie Lee had a bed set up in here for you."

Turning, she was almost out the door when Chase’s voice stopped her. "Come in. This is still your office. I don’t want my presence here to be a problem."

A problem? She nearly smiled, then swallowed it back. The sight of Chase’s flat belly and hair-roughened chest was more of a problem than he would ever know. If only she knew more about men and women.

"I’ll just put away the money and let you sleep." Tearing her gaze from him she hurried to a small bookcase and removed several books, revealing the money box behind them. Hearing his chuckle, she said, "You did tell me to keep hiding the money in different places."

"So I did."

Replacing the money box, she set the books back in place and turned. Chase had moved and was standing directly behind her.

Swallowing, she said, "I hope you’re comfortable here."

"I’ve learned to be comfortable anywhere."

She took a step around him. "Sleep well."

"Stay awhile."

Annalisa froze. What was he saying? She couldn’t possibly stay here with him. She couldn’t. As she took another step, he placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She felt him take a step behind her until their bodies were touching. She could feel the heat of his body, his warm breath against her temple. And then his hands were gripping her shoulders, drawing her firmly against the length of him.

"Stay with me, Annalisa."

"Oh, Chase." The words of protest died in her throat as his arms came around her, his fingers splayed across her rib cage, his wrists brushing the underside of her breasts.

"Don’t say a word." His lips caressed a tangle of hair, sending a spasm of sensation along her spine. "Just stay here, and lie in my arms, and let me love you."

She leaned back against him, feeling her softness melting into his strength. How easy it would be. How right it seemed. This attraction had been there from the first moment they’d met. All these long months she’d been fighting her feelings for this man. But she was afraid. There was so much she didn’t know. She would die if Chase laughed at her inexperience.

Ever so gently he turned her in his arms until she was facing him. She forced herself not to stare at his naked chest, the wide sweep of shoulders. A terrible fascination seemed to hold her enthralled. In her eyes was a look of expectancy he’d never seen before. Without a word he bent his lips to hers. She felt the sudden jolt, as her heart slammed against her ribs, and then an ache that started deep inside her and seemed to fill her with a need greater than anything she’d ever known.

His kiss filled her, then drained her. And still it wasn’t enough. As he took the kiss deeper, she knew she could never again be satisfied with just his kiss. She needed to be closer, to be one with him. She clung, as if needing to crawl inside his skin. As if sensing her need, he drew her so tightly against him she could feel him with every part of her body.

Tentatively bringing her hands to his shoulders, her fingertips played over his muscles. How wonderful his flesh felt to the touch. How strong he was. How different his body was from hers. And yet they complimented each other. His angular hardness, her softness. His fierce strength, her delicate gentleness. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers tangled in the dark hair at his nape. His breath carried the tang of whiskey and the fainter bite of tobacco. So male. So different from the soft woman scents of this house. She breathed in the musky scent of him and found it oddly intoxicating.

Her breath was coming faster now, and her heart beat a steady tattoo in her chest. It excited her to feel the irregular beat of his heart, and to know that his breathing was as ragged as hers. Had she caused this excitement in him, or did men feel this for any woman?

As he bent his lips to her throat, the blood began roaring in her temples. Louder, louder it roared, until it seemed to shake the walls.

Reluctantly, Chase lifted his head, and she felt a sense of loss. Why had he pulled away? Had he sensed her lack of experience? Did he find her inadequate? Annalisa took several deep breaths and heard the pounding once more. Louder. And then louder still. And then she realized. It wasn’t her pulse. Chase had heard it, too. Someone was pounding on the back door.

"Maybe it’s a drunk." Chase’s voice was gruff with anger. "He’ll go away."

Annalisa laughed at the frown of impatience on his face and felt a growing elation. He hadn’t wanted to pull away. He hadn’t yet discovered her—inadequacy.

Bending his lips to hers, he nibbled on her lower lip, nipping, suckling, until he again felt her acquiescence. Taking the kiss deeper, he groaned when the pounding began again.

This time Annalisa drew away. All of this was happening too quickly. There was so much she didn’t know. She needed time to sort out her thoughts. With her hands pressing against his shoulders, she struggled to speak. "I have to go. That pounding will wake the others."

He continued to hold her, loving the way she looked. Her eyes were dark with desire. Her lips were still moist and swollen from his kiss. Brushing his lips over hers, he dropped his hands, clenching them at his sides. She heard his little hiss of anger. "All right. But hurry back. I miss you already."

His words, spoken so gruffly, sent tremors through her.

*  *  *

As she hurried from the room, Chase cursed himself for his carelessness. His desire for her was clouding his thinking. Heaven only knew what danger could be outside that door. Swearing under his breath, he pulled a gun from the pocket of his coat and followed along the darkened hall.

At the glass, Annalisa was stunned to see Nate Blackwell’s face.

Throwing open the door, she called, "Nate. Whatever are you doing here at this hour?"

"Annalisa, you must wake everyone and get them out of here."

"What are you talking about?"

Wordlessly Chase came up behind her, holding the gun at his side.

If Nate was surprised at his presence, he was too distracted to show it, and too much the gentleman to dwell on the fact that Annalisa’s hair was mussed, her face infused with bright color. And Chase was wearing nothing more than tight breeches.

"I was on my way home when I heard the sound of horses’ hooves." To both of them Nate said ominously, "I hid in the woods and watched. There are nearly a dozen horsemen. Armed. Hooded. And heading this way. You have to get the others away from here and hide."

Annalisa turned wide eyes to Chase. Seeing the gun in his hand, she decided instantly. "We aren’t running, Nate." Her voice was firm, with no trace of the fear that quivered through her. Turning to Chase, she called, "I’ll wake the others. You check the rifles."

He nodded and started down the hallway at a run. Standing uncertainly in the doorway, Nate called, "You can’t seriously think a few helpless women can hold off a dozen men."

"Armed women," Annalisa called from the stairway. "We’re far from helpless. And you’re free to join us if you’d like."

Chase turned in time to see Nate mop his forehead with a linen handkerchief. Staring into the darkness, he seemed torn with indecision. Then, firmly closing and locking the door, he followed Chase down the hall.

Annalisa took the stairs two at a time, cursing the ungainly skirt and petticoats that nearly tripped her. Halfway up the steps she unfastened her skirt and stepped out of it and the heavy undergarments, draping them over her arm before tearing along the hallway wearing only her blouse and knee-length pantalettes.

Pounding on doors, she shouted, "Armed men approaching. Hurry downstairs and take up your weapons. Chase will show you where to position yourselves. Hurry."

The women stumbled from their rooms, eyes glazed, minds clouded with sleep. Within minutes, however, they were alert and hurrying down the stairs. There was no time to bother with clothes. They wore whatever they were sleeping in, from simple night shifts to glittery peignoirs.

Eulalie threw open the door to her room. Behind her, Luther propped himself on one elbow in her bed.

"You’d better stay here with Luther," Annalisa said.

"No. As long as I can shoot a rifle, I belong with the others."

Luther’s voice came out in a croak between parched lips. "Get me a gun, Miss Montgomery."

"No, Luther. You can’t get out of bed. You’ll start those wounds bleeding again."

Eulalie rushed to his side and gently eased him back against the pillows. "Promise me you’ll stay here."

"Then give me a knife," he whispered. "In case one of them makes it to this floor."

Eulalie shuddered, and brushed away the image that sprang to her mind. Opening a drawer, she withdrew a sharp hunting knife that had been hidden under silken underthings and placed it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. For long moments she continued to hold his hand, willing him some of her strength. She leaned down and brushed a tender kiss across his forehead. Then, pulling on Luther’s shirt over her nakedness, she hurried down the stairs.

Into the chaos Chase barked orders. "Check your rifles. Make certain they’re loaded. Choose a window or doorway that looks out onto the front drive. They’ll probably approach from that direction. No one fires until I call a signal. We can’t afford to waste shots. Wait until they’re close enough to see clearly. Don’t shoot at shadows. And whatever you do, don’t panic." He glanced at the women, nervously loading their rifles. He had never dreamed that one day he would be commanding such a ragged army.

His glance rested on Annalisa. Clad only in undergarments, she calmly checked her rifle. Seeing her cool acceptance of the terrifying situation, he felt his heart swell. She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met.

"Blow out all the candles," he ordered. "They must not know we have been warned of their arrival. Surprise is our best weapon."

When the last candle was extinguished, he studied the shadowy figures huddled in the pale light cast by a half-moon.

"Nate, is this gun adequate?" Chase indicated the military issue that he had tossed at Nate’s feet. "Or would you prefer a rifle? I have an extra one you can use."

Nate picked up the gun, a Spenser eight-shot, which carried seven cartridges in the butt stock, while another was inserted in the chamber. It had been a Union issue. He had seen them used often against his own men in battle. Something inside him seemed to freeze. "I’ll use this." He mopped at the beads of sweat that coursed in little rivers to his eyes.

"Listen." Annalisa strained to hear above the pounding of her heart.

Everyone grew deadly silent.

"Horses." It was Chase. "They’re getting closer."

Annalisa glanced at Hattie Lee’s face. In profile, she could have been a statue, watching the leafy shadows of tree branches waving in the night breeze. When she turned, Annalisa could see the eyes wide and watchful, the mouth a grim, tight line of concentration. Catching Annalisa’s eye, she nodded, ever so slightly. Annalisa returned the nod, then turned her attention to the man who had taken command. With Chase beside them, she felt a sense of inner calm despite the storm raging about them. He was an anchor. Strong, unyielding. With Chase to lead them, they would see this thing through. Blinking away the distraction, she returned her attention to the blackness beyond.

"There. At the line of trees."

At Chase’s whisper, all eyes strained. Was it a horseman, or just the shadow of a cluster of azaleas? While Annalisa watched, the shadow moved forward several paces, and was joined by another, then another.

"I count three."

Chase nodded. "And four to your right. Just beyond the porch."

She hadn’t even noticed them. She swiveled her head. How many? How many weapons? How many killers bent on vengeance?

"Two at the far side of the veranda," Gabrielle said softly.

The hair along the back of Annalisa’s neck tingled. And how many more still hidden in the shadows?

While they watched, a ghostly light suddenly flickered in the darkness outside. Within seconds it became larger, brighter, as it loomed through the darkness toward the window.

"Oh, God. A torch." Chase stood and fired, and the women watched in silence as the shadowy figure carrying the torch fell, dropping his burden. The flame ignited the robe that covered his head and shoulders, and his shrieks of pain sent a ripple of terror through all their hearts.

Stepping over the fallen man, a second robed figure lifted the torch and began running toward the house. Without taking time to think, Annalisa fired. The man stumbled and arched his arm above his head as if to throw. A second shot echoed through the darkness, and the man fell like a stone.

Turning her head, Annalisa saw Delia lower the carbine from her shoulder and load again.

There was a terrible silence. And then suddenly the men outside began shouting.

"They weren’t expecting us to be armed and waiting," Chase said into the darkness.

Shots were fired, and Annalisa heard the tinkle of fine crystal as the prisms of the chandelier danced above her head. A second torch was lighted and carried toward the house. Hattie Lee squeezed the trigger and moaned when the figure continued running. Squeezing off a second shot, she felt a wave of relief when he stumbled, then fell forward, losing his grip on the torch. A figure raced out of the shadows and launched the torch toward the window. It fell short of its target, landing instead on the veranda. The women could only watch helplessly as a persistent flame flickered against the wooden boards of the porch and continued to spark.

"Chase. To your right." As Annalisa called out a warning, Chase turned and fired at a man who lunged at him through the open window. The man fell at Chase’s feet, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Mon dieu." Gabrielle froze at the sight of a hooded figure running toward her. She aimed her rifle, and continued watching his progress as if mesmerized. When he lifted his gun she squeezed off a shot. Surprised, the eyes behind the hood widened in disbelief before he fell.

"We have your house surrounded," a man’s voice shouted from the darkness. "We don’t want to kill all of you. Just send us your niggers and we’ll be on our way."

Shocked, Annalisa turned toward Hattie Lee. The woman’s rich contralto rang through the night.

"I was never a slave. I am a free woman of color. I have papers to prove it."

"Papers don’t change what you are. We want all niggers out of here. We’ll leave the others alone."

"You’ll have to kill all of us to get her," Annalisa shouted defiantly. "We are one family here. And one mind."

A shot rang out through the darkness, singing past Annalisa’s head and imbedding itself in the wall beyond.

Straining through the darkness, she saw a figure detach itself from the surrounding shadows and move stealthily toward the house.

"Delia. To your left."

The girl turned and fired. A moment later, a man was heard moaning.

The sound of splintering glass sounded from the kitchen. Crawling on her hands and knees, Annalisa moved along the hallway toward the big kitchen. An eerie orange light filled the room, and flames began licking along the edge of the curtains.

"Fire." Reaching for a bucket, Annalisa doused the flames dancing across the curtains, then began beating with a rug the fire that raced along the floor. Black smoke billowed toward the ceiling, as she continued tamping out the flames until they were smothered.

By the time Nate crawled and crouched and felt his way in the darkness, the fire was out and the charred remains of the curtains hung at a crazy angle above the window.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Fine," she said, shaking off his hand. "But they’ll be back with another torch. If not here, then in another corner of the house." She shuddered, thinking about Luther, all alone, forced to listen helplessly to the sound of gunfire. "I hope their torches can’t reach to the upper bedrooms."

Crouching, she made her way back to the parlor and took up a vigil alongside a window. Kneeling beside her, Nate took her rifle. "I’ll load this. You take my gun."

Seeing a figure running, Annalisa took careful aim and fired. The figure swayed. Chase lifted his rifle and fired at the same target. This time the man dropped. Annalisa cast a quick look in Chase’s direction, then returned her attention to the darkness beyond her window.

"Here." Nate thrust her rifle toward her.

As he began to crawl away, she called, "You forgot your gun.

"Keep it," he whispered. "I have no need of it."

While she watched, he moved up behind Hattie Lee and loaded her rifle for her. Handing it back a moment later, he moved on, loading each of the women’s rifles in turn. His gun handle, she noted, was cool. He’d never even held it.

The hooded figures outside held a conference. Three figures began running toward the house. Each carried a lighted torch. Each veered off in a different direction.

"Take careful aim," Chase called loudly. "They mean to burn us out."

Annalisa heard the sound of rifle fire. Turning, she saw that the figure coming toward Chase had dropped his torch. It flickered beside his still form, then slowly lost its flame. Sucking in her breath, she watched as a second figure came directly toward Gabrielle. The Creole woman prayed aloud in French, then squeezed the trigger. The man faltered, then continued running. Hattie Lee pushed a frightened Gabrielle aside and fired through the open window. The figure fell.

The acrid stench of gun powder and charred wood filled the room, along with the scent of sweat and fear. Was this the smell of death? Annalisa shivered at the horrible thought. Giving a fleeting glance around, she felt such a welling of love for these people who were willing to stand against such overwhelming odds. Family, she thought, with a lump clogging her throat. This odd assortment of characters was truly her family.

From her position, Annalisa could see the third figure coming toward her. In the flickering light of the torch, the eyes peering from the hooded creature were so vicious, so filled with hatred, she felt as if she were looking at a creature from hell. The smell of death was forgotten. The fear that had clutched her heart earlier was swept away. There was only one thought now in her mind. She must stop this devil, or he would kill them all.

Taking careful aim, she fired. The figure gave a shriek of pain and continued coming straight for her. She saw him lift his gun. She froze. Delia walked up to stand beside her. With barely time to aim, she squeezed off a shot and saw the figure reel. He remained upright, and, though dazed, continued coming toward them. He was now only a few feet from the window.

"He is the devil," Delia said aloud. "Nothing can stop him. He isn’t real."

"That’s no devil. He’s a man. And he must be stopped. Nate," Francine shouted. "Get them down. Out of the line of fire."

Instinctively grabbing Annalisa’s arm, Nate pulled her to the floor, then reached for Delia. A shot rang out, and then another.

The hooded figure staggered, then fell. Annalisa, Nate, and Delia lay in a heap on the floor. Behind them, Francine stood rigid, absorbing the shock from her rifle’s report.

From outside, they could hear the sound of horses’ hooves. Rushing to the window, they saw the last of the hooded figures mounting their horses.

"You haven’t seen the last of us," a man’s voice shouted. "If you value your lives, send your niggers away. Or we will take them by force."

The wounded lifted their arms, beseeching their comrades to save them. Snatching them up in the saddles behind them, the few remaining unscathed attackers wheeled their horses. Leaving their dead behind, the horsemen thundered across the yard toward the safety of the woods. Within minutes, there was only stillness.

No one moved. Gradually everyone in the house became aware of the return of typical night sounds. Far out on the river, a boat’s horn sounded. A cricket chirped. A locust sang. It seemed impossible that there should be anything normal about this night.

"Are they really gone? Or is this some kind of trick?"

"They’ve gone." Chase stood and rested his rifle against the windowsill. "They’re cowards," he said with venom. "They expected to find a house filled with sleeping women who could be easily frightened and overpowered. When they found instead brave armed women, they fled like the vermin they are."

Hattie Lee timidly opened the door and surveyed the charred boards on the veranda. "We’re lucky these old boards didn’t go up like tinder."