Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (33 page)

Anna patted her hand. "The Lord willed it. You were barely one month gone. At least you hadn’t gotten attached to the wee thing."

"I wanted that baby." Tears spilled onto Dera's cheeks. "How is Paul?" she asked, after composing herself.

"He is with his father. Mr. Quint keeps him amused with tales about Ireland."

"I can imagine what sort of stories he tells him. Probably how to torch an English man’s house, no doubt."

"You've a sharp tongue, my girl, considering what you've just been through. Anyway, Mr. Quint wants to see you. He told me you two had words last night, and I think he regrets them."

Dera's eyes grew cold, her face hardened as she remembered his distrust, his words of anger. She didn't want to see him or receive his forced sympathy.

"Tell him to go to hell," she told Anna.

Anna tip toed into the parlor. Quint waited with Paul on his lap, but when he saw Anna he placed the child on the sofa. He stood up, the hopeful look on his face soon faded when Anna shook her head. "She refused to speak with you. Give her time. Let her pain ease."

Quint ran his fingers through his hair. '' I killed our baby with my cruel words," he said, anguish in his voice.

"I never knew you well in Ireland, never wanted to," Anna admitted honestly. "So wild and untamed you were. I feared for Dera then, and I fear for her now, not because I think you're a bad one, but. . . ." She stopped, not certain how to phrase her words.

"Go on," he said.

"You're both hardheaded and when one is ready to give in, the other isn't. Dera was happiest when Mr. Dominick was alive. Mind you, they had problems, but she had some peace. Dera may be stubborn and passionate, but she's the sort who needs to know her man intends to stay and won't go wandering off after the first pretty thing in skirts- or for some lost cause. It might be best to give her some time alone to get over her loss and for you to decide if you love her enough to stop hurting her."

Quint didn’t like what Anna said, but he couldn't deny her wisdom. Together, he and Dera were magic but also poison. For the first time he realized his selfishness. He had reentered her life with lightning quickness and turned it upside down.

"I promised her I would not leave her again," he said.

"She told me about that, but I think it is more important for you to salvage your emotions and for her to do the same." When Anna saw that he was heeding her advice, she added, 'Then the two of you can decide what is more important ... love or hatred."

He sighed wearily. "I'll be staying at the barracks if she wants me."

"Is there anything I should tell Dera?"

"Tell her my heart grieves for the loss of our baby."

With a quick kiss on Paul's cheek, he departed. Anna watched him from the window and clucked her tongue. He looked so handsome and strong, but he had a weakness, a weakness who lay in the bed beyond the doorway.

Dera's strength returned and her disappointment over her loss abated. Again, she turned to work as her healing salve.

One morning Rosette, with a picnic basket in hand, waltzed into the shop. "How are you today?" she inquired of Dera in a sing song voice.

"Much better. Where are you off to?"

A twinkle glistened in Rosette's dark eyes. "I'm meeting my beloved, dear Dera."

"Has Etienna asked to marry you yet?"

“
I shall only say that my love shall soon be mine."

Rosette's cryptic smile mystified Dera, and after she left the shop, Anna shook her head. "That one is up to something."

"Anna, you're so suspicious of her. Rosette has been more than kind to me."

"That's bewildering, too, considering she never cared for you when her brother brought you home."

"Rosette is a woman and should be treated as one. She is definitely not a little girl any longer.”

“
Neither are you,” Anna noted with a gentle smile. “You’ve matured since Mr. Quint has been staying at the barracks. You seem calmer, more sure of yourself."

Dera smiled sadly. "Crying doesn't help. My baby meant the world to me, but I've decided something else, too. I love Quint and I need him." She put down the quill pen she had been using to add a column of figures. "Christmas will be miserable without him, but I'll survive it. And if he has turned permanently away from me, I'll survive that, too."

“
Quite a change from the girl who practically threw her life away, marrying an old man out of spite, then marrying another for security. I believe you have finally grown up. It's about time you realized that life doesn't depend upon a man. Even a man like Quint Flannery."

Dera stood and gazed out of the shop window. People hurriedly passed, some loaded with packages, fruits and flowers, as they readied themselves for the holiday. Christmas would be lonely without Quint, but there had been other Christmases spent without him. She remembered, when Paul was an infant, their first Christmas with Dominick. The happiness, the joy, had warmed her and given her the first glimpse of a real family life. She had wished to find the same joy with Quint, but as with all things she wanted so much, this was denied her. She sighed and went back to the boring job of totaling receipts.

Rosette sipped from her glass of wine, not taking her gaze from Quint who sat pensively staring at the swiftly moving river. They hadn't spoken for twenty minutes and she grew more uneasy with each passing second. He had accepted her picnic invitation, but he hadn't smiled at her once, and she was growing impatient with his sour mood.

"Am I such poor company?” she asked at last.

He glanced at her. "No, but my thoughts are far away."

"Not too far, I think."

“
I shouldn't have come here with you today."

She moved against him, her thigh touching his. "I can make you forget Dera," she breathed.

"Perhaps for a moment," he admitted. "But no one lives who can take her from here." He tapped his chest with his index finger. "She is in my heart, my blood. She belongs to me and I've lost her again."

"To Jem McConnell's arms!”' she spat venomously.

"I condemned her too easily," he said. "The consequences of my cruel words to her will haunt me forever.” He looked away, remembering a child he would never know.

“
Quint, I will have you anyway I can get you, even if I must live in her shadow.” Rosette leaned against him her heady perfume assailing him; the warmth of her body stirred him. To her amazement, he pushed her away.

“
I hate always being rejected!" she cried, furious that her charms didn't move him.

"Don't always be putting yourself in such precarious situations, Rosette," he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance with her.

"Etienne asked to marry me and I believe I shall."

Quint rose tiredly. "'Tis a good idea. He'll make you a fine husband since he'll be easy to control and amenable to your every whim."

She stood up and stomped her foot. "I detest you! "

"Rosette, I never asked for your love, but I took what you offered me. If it were possible to love you, I would, but I've finally realized that Dera is the only woman I'll ever truly love. Life is empty without her and I'm returning to her. I only hope she'll take me back." He took Rosette’s arm. "I'll escort you home now."

She wrenched her arm away. "I'll go by myself." She threw the glasses into the hamper, picked it up and ran away from him.

Her mind whirled, dismayed by his rejection but she wouldn't admit defeat. She had one more chance to make him love her, and this time she decided it would be permanent. She wouldn’t lose him again.

CHAPTER FORTY

The bells of St. Louis beckoned the faithful to Christmas mass. Dera had hoped that Quint would appear, but when he didn't, she tried to forget her loneliness.

She threw her cloak over a chair when she returned from church and carefully rearranged the gifts for Paul in the paarlor. Anna and Henri had taken Paul to visit Pere Noel who was arriving in New Orleans by pirogue. She could barely contain her excitement to see his little face brighten with pleasure when he opened his presents.

"If only Quint could be here," she spoke aloud, then decided it would do no good to pine for him.

Rosette entered the room with a pot of hot tea. "I thought you would like something to warm your bones," she said softly.

"How kind, but there was no need to go to such trouble."

"Nonsense, I know how much you like herb tea." Rosette smiled and placed the pot on the table and poured a cup for Dera. The steam rose from the cup and filled the room with its delightful aroma. Dera didn't particularly want the tea, but she hated to refuse Rosette's kindness. She asked her if she would also have some, but Rosette refused.

The liquid flowed warmly down Dera's throat, however her tongue detected a difference. "This doesn't taste the same."

Rosette's face shone strangely. "It's a new blend, very soothing. Drink up," she urged.

Dera and Rosette exchanged comments about the Christmas season, the weather and acquaintances, but there was something in the cat like way Rosette leaned forward that alarmed Dera. She felt as if she were a bird in a cage and Rosette a patient feline biding her time.

Dera put her cup down. "I fear something is wrong with you."

"Everything is wonderful with me," Rosette said. "However, you look quite pale. Are you well?"

Dera suddenly felt sleepy and stifled a yawn. She stood up to relieve the lethargy which crept over her. There was much to do before Paul arrived.

Why did Rosette look at her so oddly? Why did she sit there so still, as if she were waiting to pounce?

Dera tried to move forward, but her feet felt like blocks of wood; her head felt like it would crush her shoulders. Everything seemed to be happening slowly. She watched Rosette rise from her chair and move towards her. Dera wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't form on her tongue. In fact, she couldn't speak at all.

As if nightfall had descended, the darkness clouded her vision. Dera's eyes darted wildly, imploring Rosette to help her, but the woman ignored her. Why won't she help me, Dera asked herself? The answer was lost in the encroaching gloom when suddenly her feet gave way and Dera felt as if she slipped headlong into a vast black pit.

The clanging of a ship's bell reverberated in Dera's ears, causing her to waken. A cold draft streamed down from a hole in the roof and chilled her despite the rough blanket wrapped about her. She found herself in a room lit only by the smallest of candles. Where was she?

In a panic she struggled to sit up, but her head spun dizzily. As she fought to keep from falling back onto the crude cot, she sensed a presence beside her.

She jerked around, panic invading her, as Jem McConnell reached out to steady her.

He stroked her cheek. "Don't be fearful, I'll not hurt you. You're mine now, for always."

Her heart beat wildly and she suppressed the urge to scream, remembering how cruel he could be when crossed. She moved her face away from his hand and gathered the courage to speak in a steady voice.

"Tell me how I got here, Jem, and what you plan to do with me."

He smiled. “I plan to love you, Dera, and to have you love me."

"Am I to be kept a prisoner here?"

"You'll be here a few more hours, until the ship is readied in the morning for our voyage."

Her heart plummeted. "Where do you intend to take me?"

“
To Canada, where no one will find us. Not even your Quint."

She resisted the urge to cry, to tell him he was crazy, but she had to keep her wits about her. "I have no clothes, Jem. Really, I should pack."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "You'll have no need for clothes, not for the purpose I have in mind."

"I'd rather die!”