Midnight Flame (34 page)

Laurel bumped on each step as she fell. The last thing she saw was Seth’s stricken face as she landed by his feet.

~ ~ ~

Seth puffed impatiently on a cheroot and watched Simone as she poured a cup of tea in the parlor of her Clermont home. She shot him a Cheshire cat grin. “Don’t look so down in the mouth,” she scolded. “Laurel isn’t dead yet,”

He stubbed out the cheroot on a small golden tray and stared accusingly at her. “It’s easy for you to be calm and cool over her accident. You have nothing to lose if she dies or recovers. Either way, you’ll be able to latch onto Tony, the poor sucker.” Simone laughed her delight. “I think I played my part very well. I was quite upset over my pregnancy, but now since Laurel has lost her baby, Tony will turn to me to fill the void. I shall soon be Tony’s wife and quite wealthy, I should add.”

Simone’s complacency grated on Seth’s nerves. He wondered how he could ever have been taken in by her. She was selfish through and through and a first-class whore to boot. But it wasn’t the fact that she was so pleased with herself that upset him. He worried that he was now back to where he had been when he arrived in Louisiana. Potentially penniless unless Laurel lived and he could convince her to leave with him and then marry him. What blasted luck!

“I better go back to Petit Coteau. Tony hasn’t left her bedside, hoping she’ll wake up. I’d like to be there if anything happens.”

Simone lay on the divan and stretched languidly, blowing him a kiss. “I hope all works out for you, Seth, darling. My future is assured no matter what happens to Laurel. If she lives, she won’t stay with Tony now. If she dies, well … What can I say?”

“Cold-hearted bitch,” Seth muttered and left a giggling Simone for the return trip to Petit Coteau.

~ ~ ~

For the first time in years, Tony prayed. Sitting by her bedside with Gincie in attendance, he knew that if Laurel died, he had no reason to live either. Their child was gone, and though Doctor Fusilier had said Laurel would have other children if she lived, Tony knew she would never want another child of his. Agony was imprinted on his face whenever he looked at her. She lay so still, and her face was ashen beneath the purple bruises from her fall. Her whole body was bruised, and he felt responsible. If only he hadn’t gone to Simone’s house those long weeks ago. He doubted the veracity of the woman’s story, but he couldn’t prove the child Simone carried wasn’t his own. He would most probably never be able to prove that nothing had happened. And what was worse, Laurel would never trust him again.

Gincie lightly patted Tony on the shoulder. “There’s nothin’ to be done for my baby now, Mr. Tony. You been sittin’ up with her for hours now. You got to get some rest.”

Tony stroked the stubble on his chin. “I won’t leave her. I’ll wait until she wakes up.”

“Mr. Tony, she may never wake up.”

“She will!” Tony insisted. “Laurel will be all right.”

~ ~ ~

That night Laurel still hadn’t wakened. Doctor Fusilier came and checked her and then rested in a bedroom down the hall until there should be some change. But when the next afternoon arrived and Laurel still hadn’t woken up, he reluctantly left. Tony was unaware the doctor had gone as he continued to sit at Laurel’s bedside and ate only light meals in her room. Gincie grew worried over Tony’s bedside vigil and his haggard appearance. The man loved Laurel, that was certain. What would happen to Mr. Tony if Laurel died? Gincie wondered, and she didn’t like to think about that.

That night Tony was dozing in his chair, attuned to Laurel’s every breath. At midnight he heard a slight movement on the bed and instantly came alert. Laurel’s eyes were open, and she was looking at the candlelight flickering across the ceiling, apparently disoriented.

“Thank God you’re awake,” Tony breathed and kissed her hand. “I thought I had lost you.”

Laurel’s gaze drifted to him. Her eyes focused on his face, and she saw tears streaming down his cheeks. She wondered why Tony was crying when she was the one who felt so awful. Then her mind cleared, and she suddenly felt lucid and wide awake. “I had an accident, didn’t I?”

He nodded. “You’re going to be fine. I knew you’d come back to me.”

“My head hurts,” she said. “Every inch of me hurts.” She grew silent for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of Tony’s hand in hers. She remembered the fall down the stairs and, more importantly, recalled the scene in Tony’s study. Her hand touched her abdomen. The past few weeks she had noticed a roundness there. Now she felt a hollow emptiness. She had said right before her fall that she wished she had never become pregnant. Now her wish had come true.

“I lost my baby.”

A strangled sob rose in Tony’s throat, and all he could do was nod.

She felt unable to cry, unable to summon the appropriate emotion for the circumstances in which she found herself. “I should have known things were suddenly too perfect not to be destroyed. People I love have died without warning. I’m alone again.”

“You’re not alone, Laurel. You have me. I love you. Doctor Fusilier insists you can have other children. I’ll take care of you. You belong with me, here at Petit Coteau.”

Her emerald eyes fastened on him, impaling him. “There’s nothing to keep me here any longer. The baby is gone. When I’m well enough, I’m leaving with Seth for San Antonio. Don’t try and stop me, Tony. This time, I
am
going.”

He knew she meant to leave him. He had lost her because of a stupid indiscretion, something he didn’t even remember, something he wasn’t certain had ever happened. Suddenly he was too tired and weary of life to try to convince her to stay. He had gone through a living hell the last few days. Retribution for his revenge against Lavinia Delaney was staring him in the face. His life was over.

Standing up, he sighed. “Do what you will, Laurel. I won’t prevent you from leaving. Go to San Antonio with Seth, make a new life for yourself. Forget I ever existed.”

“You’ll take care of all the … arrangements.” She meant a divorce but couldn’t say the word.

“Whatever you want.”

He turned his back and didn’t look at her again, as he closed the door behind him.

After a long and arduous trip, the stagecoach pulled alongside the Plaza House in San Antonio to let the passengers disembark. Laurel, with Seth’s supportive arm around her waist, got off before Gincie. Their clothes were covered in dust, and Laurel was glad she had purchased sensible calico gowns in New Orleans all those months ago. Her good dresses would have been ruined. She couldn’t wait to bathe and wash away the weeks of accumulated dirt and grime. The way stations had been few and far between and the facilities had been inadequate. Now she eagerly awaited decent accommodations and the chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. Although she felt suddenly very tired, she glanced with curiosity at the plaza containing the golden- colored limestone facade of the Alamo, now occupied by the United States Army. She also noticed a brewery and the beginnings of an elaborate hotel. On the street, carts and carriages moved at a leisurely gait, and she even saw a herd of cattle being driven through the plaza by vaqueros on horseback.

“You feelin’ all right?” Gincie asked as she followed Laurel and Seth onto the covered porch of the hotel out of the blistering summer sun.

“Just weary,” Laurel told her.

“You shouldn’t have left Petit Coteau until you felt stronger.” The admonishment in Gincie’s tone didn’t go unnoticed by Laurel, or by Seth, who tightened his grip on Laurel’s waist and shot Gincie a chilling look.

“Laurel will feel better once she’s rested. Tomorrow we’ll start for the ranch, and she can regain her strength there.”

Gincie grew quiet and wrinkled her nose in distaste, her dislike for Seth evident on her face.

Inside the hotel, Laurel welcomed the sudden coolness of the interior, and once in her room, she ordered up a bath. Seth said he would return at six to escort her to supper, and she promised she would be ready by then, but she really didn’t want to go. She wished she could just crawl into bed.

Though she was appreciative of Seth’s company and his solicitous concern for her health, she sensed he would press his suit of her affections in earnest now that they were in Texas. She didn’t care for him in that way and doubted she ever would. It was Tony she still loved and would love for the rest of her life.

Damn him! she silently cursed and laid her head against the back of the tub. He had disappeared the day she woke from her accident and she hadn’t laid eyes on him since. Essie had told her he had gone to Vermillionville. Laurel had half-expected him to return for the marriage of Hippolyte and Roselle, followed by their son’s baptism, or at least before she left for San Antonio. However, by the time she was sufficiently recovered to travel, he hadn’t come home.

Denise had arrived unexpectedly from Vermillionville and told her that she had seen Tony in a lawyer’s office and he looked awful. This had been Laurel’s first indication that Tony was filing for a divorce. Denise had begged her to reconsider, but Laurel had been adamant. There was no hope for a reconciliation. Too much had happened between them. She couldn’t trust him. Their relationship had been doomed from the start. Denise had listened sympathetically, but in her parting words to her she had professed that Laurel was making a mistake in leaving Tony.

“Well, it’s my mistake,” she mumbled to herself and picked up the soap and began to lather her arms. She felt she had no alternative but to leave Tony. A raw, nagging ache filled her to think that Simone Lancier carried Tony’s child. Would she ever get over the empty feeling inside her? Even yet she had not shed a tear over her miscarriage or leaving Tony. Something must be wrong with her, she briefly realized, but couldn’t dwell upon anything but reaching the Little L. Starting a new life and seeing her uncle were her priorities now.

Gincie bustled into the room and laid out a pink taffeta gown with white rosettes on the low neckline. “This dress is too revealin’, Miss Laurel. That Seth’s eyes are gonna pop out of his head. Why don’t you wear that respectable green dress with the lace collar?”

“Because, dear Gincie, I’m going to do things with a flair from now on, and hang what people think.”

“You’re still hurtin’ and not thinkin’. Remember before you left New Orluns, you wanted to change your life. Well, you did. You got a good man back in Louisiana. You ought to go back and claim your man before that nasty Simone gets her claws in him too deep.”

Laurel ignored Gincie’s advice and continued bathing until Gincie realized that nothing she said was going to sink into Laurel’s brain. Half an hour later Laurel was attired in the daring pink gown and walked down the stairs to the dining room on Seth’s arm. Every eye was trained on her as they were seated, and she had a sense of déjà vu. She recalled wearing a daring dress the night Tony had first kissed her and how she had melted into strong arms. Pain flickered across her face, and Seth patted her hand.

“Would you rather go upstairs? We do have a long trip to the ranch in the morning.”

“No, I’d like to order our supper now. I’m not tired at all.” Suddenly she wasn’t physically tired, just emotionally spent. Seth’s concern for her well-being touched her. He didn’t seem to be a bad sort, yet she couldn’t help being suspicious of him and his motive for coming to Louisiana in the first place. However, she had no reason not to believe that her uncle was the force that drove him to come for her. Still, something she read in his eyes disturbed her. They contained a guarded look, a dark possessive quality when they settled on her face.

Yet, when Seth smiled at her, she discerned a lusty gleam flare in those blue orbs. With a start, she realized she didn’t find his attentions totally undesirable. Perhaps in time she might come to care for Seth if only she could forget Tony’s dark handsomeness. At that moment when Seth took her hand and kissed her fingertips, she was desperate enough to try.

~ ~ ~

Before dawn the next morning they left San Antonio, Seth seated on a spirited roan, riding alongside Laurel and Gincie’s carriage. As the veil of night lifted, the countryside opened into a panorama of rolling green hills and ancient trees, bathed by the first rays of a golden morning. Laurel caught her breath at the untamed, virginal beauty. Mexican junipers, evergreen and lush, dotted the roadside as well as tall stalks of white-blossomed yuccas.