They call her Dana (35 page)

"I will only be a few minutes, Jasper," I said, and my voice was perfectly normal, betraying none of what I felt.

I reached into the carriage and took out the basket and went into the store. Sunlight streaming through the two front windows stroked richly varnished woods, gleamed on gilt and glittered on crystal and porcelain. Beautiful furniture and objects of art exuded a rich, opulent atmosphere. There was no one in the front of the store. Charles must be in the back or in his office, I thought, and then the heavy gold drapes over the archway parted and Raoul Etienne came in, arching one brow in surprise when he saw me.

"Cousin Dana," he crooned, "what an unexpected pleasure."

I was startled. I had forgotten all about Raoul. Of course he would be at the store. He worked here—not very satisfactorily, from all reports. He smiled a smooth, professional smile that wasn't quite a leer but wasn't at all friendly either. His dark eyes gleamed as they took in every detail of my dress and person. How sleek and handsome he was in his deep wine-colored breeches and frock coat, his white and wine striped satin waistcoat and white silk neckcloth. His thick, luxuriant hair had a healthy gloss, and his skin was lightly tanned, like pale, creamy coffee. He was a splendid creature, all right, the answer to every maiden's prayer, but the maiden would be despoiled, greedily used and ruthlessly abandoned when he had had his fill. Perhaps he wasn't actually evil, but he was spoiled, selfish, superior, a pampered young lord who believed the world was his to plunder.

"It's been a long time," he said.

I hadn't seen him since I drove my knee into his groin. "Not long enough," I retorted.

I stood where I was, clutching the handle of the basket. Raoul slowly approached me, and I remembered the story of the spider and the fly. I stiffened. He smiled again, stopping a few feet away. His eyes seemed to undress me. The smile lingered at the comers of his mouth.

"Surely you're not nervous," he said.

"Not at all. I believe I proved I could take care of myself."

.«

"You surely did," he agreed. "I haven't forgotten that, Cousin dear. You might have done some serious damage. Women all over New Orleans would have been dressed in mourning, bewailing their loss."

"I don't doubt it," I said dryly.

"You don't know what you're missing," he told me. "I could provide excellent references."

"I—I don't intend to stand here sparring with you, Raoul. I came here to see Charles. Where is he?"

"Out, I'm afraid. The lovely Amelia Jameson came in earlier and wanted him to come look at a pair of chairs she's thinking of selling. I volunteered to go myself, but neither of them would hear of it."

"I'm not at all surprised."

"Is there anything / can do for you?" he inquired smoothly.

I shook my head, discomfited and disappointed. "I—I brought his lunch," I said. "I'll just leave the basket in his office."

"How very thoughtful," he observed. "So one brother isn't enough? You've got them vying for you now. Most interesting, though I must say I'm surprised. I shouldn't have thought noble Charles would encroach on the property of his beloved Julian.''

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said crisply.

"Haven't you?" He moved closer. "A word of advice, Cousin dear. Those two are very, very close and inordinately loyal to one another. Don't come between them. If you do, they'll both turn against you."

I didn't deign to answer. Ignoring him completely, I moved purposefully to the archway and parted the heavy gold drapes and, stepping into Charles' office, placed the basket on top of his desk. It was piled high with papers and account books, I noticed, and Charles' frock coat and neckcloth were hanging on the back of his chair. Apparently he hadn't deemed it necessary to don them when he went to examine Amelia Jameson's chairs. He would be wearing his striped satin waistcoat and fine lawn shirt, and his hair would probably already be unruly, with an errant wave slanting over his brow.

"You needn't worry about the lovely Amelia," Raoul said.

I whirled around, startled to find him behind me.

"She's a delectable creature," he continued, "but his trip to her apartment was strictly business. He's purchased several things from her of late. It seems the lady is down on her luck."

"If you'll excuse me," I said, "I'll go now. Please inform Charles that his lunch is on his desk."

Raoul made no effort to move. He was standing between me and the door, effectively blocking my way. I would have to move around him to get to the door, and I wasn't about to get that close. The office seemed suddenly much smaller. The four walls seemed to close in on me like a trap. I stood my ground, my chin held high. Raoul sensed my apprehension and he smiled, his daric eyes aglow with amusement. ,

"You needn't worry," he said. "I shan't attempt to rape you here and now. I'll get my own back, Cousin dear—no woman treats me the way you did and gets away with it—but I'll do it in my own sweet time."

"Don't fool with me, Raoul," I warned. "You're likely to get hurt again."

His smile broadened. He chuckled sofdy.

"You caused quite a sensation at the ball last month," he observed. "All of my friends were thoroughly captivated— they've been bombarding me with questions about you. They all want to get to know you much, much better."

"Please step out of my way, Raoul."

He ignored my request. "Speaking of friends,'' he continued, "a couple of the lads saw you on Conti Street the other day. You rode past the fencing academy and then turned on Conti and stopped in front of number four."

I didn't deny it. I looked at him with a cool, level gaze.

"I wonder why," he mused. "A clandestine rendezvous with a secret lover? We all assumed so at first, then we found that number four belongs to the DuJardin family. Now what could you possibly be going to see them for?"

"That's none of your bloody business," I said.

"I'll find out," he promised. "You intrigue me, Cousin. I intend to find out everything I can about you."

I didn't say a word. I continued to stare at him with that level gaze, and the mocking half-smile continued to play on his lips. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he gave me a cocky nod and stepped aside. I longed to slap that smirk off his lips, but I didn't. I moved past him with icy composure and left the oflice, stepping outside a moment later.

"Is you all right, Miz Dana?" Jasper asked.

"I'm fine," I retorted.

*'You looks upset 'bout somethin'."

"Take me home," I ordered.

The afternoon seemed interminable. I even welcomed Mister Howard with his dour expression and his dreary lessons. At least they helped pass the time. He stood over me as I attempted to do my long division, shaking his head in dismay. No one, he seemed to be saying to himself, could be that dense. He corrected my paper and informed me that math was definitely not my forte. I readily agreed. We did our geography lesson next, and I colored a map of Spain and learned about the Alhambra and he suggested I read Washington Irving's recently published book on the subject. I promised to order it and showed him out with considerable relief.

Charles came home shortly before six. I was in the front parlor. I heard him in the foyer, heard him speaking to Pompey, and my first impulse was to rush out and welcome him back and bask in his presence, but common sense prevented so impulsive an action. I would see him at dinner. I went upstairs and took a hot bath, lingering in the tub, luxuriating in the warmth and the rich scented suds. I washed my hair as well, brushing it afterward until it fell in a thick, glossy tumble. The sun had already gone down, and the courtyard was a nest of misty violet-gray shadows as Kay la came in to help me dress. Candlelight created soft golden patterns on the walls and floor.

"I declare," Kayla sighed, "it's sultry tonight."

I nodded, going through my wardrobe, trying to select a gown. The windows were open, and I could hear leaves rustling and a bird warbling and smell a dozen fragrant perftimes. The air was warm and slightly moist. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains and seemed to caress my skin. Kayla stepped to the gallery and took a deep breath, gazing up at the sky.

"There's gonna be a quarter moon," she said. "Know what kinda night it's gonna be? It's gonna be a night for love."

I looked at her sharply. Was there a double meaning to her words? Did she suspect something? Was my feeling for Charles so obvious? The girl sighed once more and stretched and smiled a contented smile.

"Reckon I might just let Jasper have his way tonight," she confided lazily. "He's done everything but, an' I must say, he's a master with his mouth an' his hands. Makes me plumb crazy—

kissin' me all over, feelin' me up. Reckon it's time to let him explore th' rest of me."

I said nothing. Kayla looked concerned.

"Is you shocked, Miz Dana?"

''Not—not at all," I replied.

"Lovin' ain't bad. Lovin's good. It makes you feel—I cain't righdy explain how it makes you feel, but you'll know what I mean when it happens to you. You get an achin' in your bones and your blood seems to boil and then your bones seems to melt an' you gets all frantic an'—"

' 'That will be quite enough, Kayla.''

"You'se tense, Miz Dana. I been noticin' it for a while now. I reckon you need a little lovin', too. It's a splendid tonic for what ails you. It ain't natural to keep everything aU pent up an' pressin' your insides."

"Damn you, Kayla!"

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miz Dana.'*

"I know. I—I'm just a little edgy."

"Reckon it's th' weather," she said. "When it gets all sultry like this, you cain't help feelin' a stirrin' in your blood. When that quarter moon's sailin' in the sky tonight, I'll be wigglin' in Jasper's arms, moanin' like a she-cat as he loves me. Reckon you'll be readin' another one of them books."

"If you'll just help me put this on, you can go on about your business," I said crisply.

"You'se gonna wear that dress?"

"What's wrong with it?'*

"Ain't nothin' wrong with it—reckon it's right sumptuous. It just looks like th' kinda dress you'd wear to a ball or somethin', not just for dinner, an' no one but Mister Charies to see you in it-"

Kayla cut herself short, her eyes widening as realization dawned. I cursed silently. Kayla grinned then, pleased and approving. I longed to push her over the balcony. I started to tell her that she was completely wrong, but I doubted she would believe me and it would only make matters worse. Silent now but still grinning, she helped me into the gown and told me I looked like a vision, said I could cast a spell over any man, lookin' like I looked now, and then, grin widening, she finally left.

I stepped over to the full-length mirror, examining myself

carefully. The gown was of rich rose brocade, embroidered all over with flowers in deeper rose. It had full, off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves, a very low-cut neckline and a form-fitting bodice that accentuated my slender waist, the extremely full skirt belling out over half a dozen tissue-thin red silk underskirts. It was a sumptuous garment, far too opulent and formal for dinner at home, but it made me feel older, made me feel very much a woman. I might not look like a vision, but I knew I had never looked better. All traces of the girl had vanished. I was looking at the reflection of a woman, sensuous, voluptuous, created for love. It wasn't just the dress, I knew. Without realizing it, I seemed to have passed over some invisible threshold into fullblown womanhood, leaving the girl behind. I wondered if others noticed it as well.

Sitting at my dressing table, I smoothed faint mauvish-tan shadow on my eyelids and applied a subtle pink blush to my cheeks. I used lip rouge, too, sparingly, the cosmetics merely pointing up my natural coloring. I brushed my hair some more until it gleamed with rich honey-blond highlights and decided to let it fall to my shoulders in natural waves. I removed the stopper from the crystal bottle of perfume I had bought at Cor-inne's and smelled the scent. It was a subtle, tantalizing smell evoking sun-drenched fields of poppies, extremely sensual, and I hesitated a moment. I had never used it before. Was it too tantalizing, too sensual? Perhaps my regular lilac perfume would be better. No, that was a proper young lady's perfume. Tonight I was a woman. I applied the poppy-rich perfume to my wrists, my throat, behind my ears. I felt like . . . like one of Balzac's courtesans preparing for an assignation and, in a sudden crisis of nerves, almost decided to skip dinner entirely.

My nerves were still on edge as I went slowly down the graceful white staircase, full rose brocade skirts rustling. The house seemed still and quiet, dozens of candles bathing it in a pale golden glow. Windows were open, and curtains billowed with the sound of soft whispers. I could smell night-blooming jasmine and rich loamy soil and, in the stillness, hear the soft patter of the fountain. Moving across the foyer, I stepped into the front parlor where we always met before dinner. Charles had not come down yet. I ardently longed for one of the mint juleps he and Julian sipped before meals. I ardently wished I weren't wearing this dress, wished I had never laid eyes on Charles Etienne,

wished life were not so hellishly complicated. My nerves were so taut I thought they might actually snap when I heard his footsteps in the foyer.

He stepped into the room. He was wearing his dark blue breeches and frock coat and a sky-blue satin waistcoat embroidered with white silk leaves and a perfectly folded white silk neckcloth. His hair was brushed to a high chestnut sheen, but already that errant wave was beginning to tilt forward. His lean face was all hard planes and angles, his mouth set in a full, firm pink line, and his eyes were so deep a blue they seemed black in the candlelight. I looked at him, and I seemed to feel a shock going through me. My knees felt weak. I actually thought I was going to faint. It seemed impossible that another person could stir emotions so completely overwhelming.

Charles seemed as ill at ease as I was. He didn't look at me at first. He stepped over to the liquor cabinet and made himself a mint julep, taking ice out of the silver bucket sitting atop it. He mmed then and sipped his drink, and his eyes daricened even, more with disapproval. He didn't like my gown. I felt like a fool. I felt like a litde girl playing dress-up. Balzac's courtesans were worldly, opulent creatures who would have laughed heartily at my pretenses. Charles was probably laughing to himself at this very moment. Perftime and a low-cut gown could not take the place of experience. I felt as gauche and naive as a newborn colt under his stem gaze.