With One Look (15 page)

woman did not fault him for bedding the innocent young lady and stealing her virginity with the mistaken assumption that she was a whore. As if the Reverend Mother was too upset to think that far. He had the strangest sense that she knew something—some unspeakable secret--about the whole sordid affair. This had grown to a certainty as he fired questions at her: "Do you know anyone who might want to harm the girl?"

"No... who could want to hurt Terese?"

"Has Jade mentioned meeting anyone recently, a stranger or someone out of the ordinary

that—"

Again a shake of head. "No, no. Merciful heavens ..."

His father had sensed it too. If anyone would get it out of the Reverend Mother, it would be

the senior Nolte. His father was a great listener, empathizing and compassionate, and yet absolutely nonjudgmental. The man pulled out the darkest secrets from everyone.

His father was well known in Vatican circles, though somewhat of an iconoclast in the Church. Throughout New Orleans and Baton Rouge, his father was the person everyone sought when in need—his humanitarian efforts were famous.

A sad sort of smile lifted Victor's face as he thought of Marie. Obviously, she had inherited her mother's gift. She had been so right about that woman, and if this entire ordeal taught him anything, it was never to doubt Marie again....

A slight, whisper-soft stirring behind him drew his attention. Jade Terese sat up, careful to bring the bed sheets over her. Against both his father's and Mother Francesca's objections, he had insisted on being with Jade when she awoke. He had owned her passion last night, and aye, an intoxicated passion it was, but unlike any other he had ever known. While he certainly would never regret a moment of what had passed between them, he had no idea what she would feel upon waking. Fear, anguish, panic? All of these?

He meant to do anything to banish her pain.

Jade waited for a coherent thought to rise above the escalating pounding of her heart. She still sat in his bed. Memories of the night flooded in to her mind: memories of the sensual swirl made of his kisses, the tease of his mouth and hands on her body and how he had—

Oh, my. Oh, Lord....

Color rushed to her face; she forgot to breathe as her consciousness riveted to the ecstasy and wonder of what he had done to her.

Boots sounded softly on the wooden floor. She froze, staring bewildered out into darkened space, waiting to know who was with her.

"It's me Jade. Victor." The words were spoken in a whisper as he came to the bed. She turned to the sound of his voice, a timid hand reached to touch him.

He closed his eyes as he felt the brush of her fingers. When he opened them again, he saw her pain and fear disappear beneath relief. "I'm so glad 'tis you!"

This took him by surprise. Without questioning the intimacy, operating from the simplest masculine need to take back the night, he drew her slender form into his arms.

"Jade Terese ..."

The feel of his arms was heaven. She closed her eyes and clung to his neck, savoring the embrace, the clean masculine scent, the warmth and security of his arms. "I'm just so glad it's you. I was afraid—What happened? Did—"

He drew back to see her face; gently he brushed back a strand of thick silky dark hair. "I'm afraid I have a story to tell...."

The story was a long one, and he took his time telling it. She listened quietly, relieved at Mercedes's rescue, thrilled by Sebastian's heroics. He quickly explained the terrible end, staring down at the lovely face as she absorbed this. The mechanical clock on the mantel ticked off the minutes as her startling green eyes darted this way and that before stopping and saying the name: "Maydrian? What about Maydrian?"

Victor's long pause prepared her before he said, "Jade Terese, we have not found her yet. Maydrian had not been among the four Negroes found in the basement. No one knew where she was.”

her?"

She seemed to stare questioningly. "Oh! But where could she be? What could have befallen

"I have a number of men trying to find out as we speak." "Please to God, keep her safe! You will find her, you think?" "Yes. I have no doubt—"

"And Monsieur Deubler?"

"He is quite fine after a hard blow to the head. He was the very first, but by no means the

last, to send flowers. By twelve noon my study was full to bursting with the flowers being sent

from concerned people. You, young lady, are far more popular, it seems, than the good Pope himself—my father's words."

"Your ... father?"

There came another pause. "You know him well, Jade. If you were not blind you would have known from the start. You see, he, like your Reverend Mother, calls you by your Christian name—Terese. Father Nolte, with your very own Reverend Mother, is most anxious to speak to my luckless heroine."

"Father Nolte? I don't understand.”

"He is my father. Married to my mother until her death. The vows came later." She drew back with her shock. "You are Victor—"

"Nolte."

Of course, she knew Father Nolte had once been married and that Marie Saint's famous mother had spared his much-loved wife her last precious months' pain. Marie Saint, Reverend Mother, and finally Father Nolte himself had all told her about it. She knew too, that Father Nolte had a son of whom he was inordinately proud. She had heard dozens of stories of this famous son over the years, including how he had run away from boarding school and had lived on ships in the far away Orient. There Father Nolte said his son had learned many strange notions that made them argue about the poetry, simplicity, and beauty of the heathen Buddhist religion. This son then made a shipbuilding business, interrupting his success when the war came. He was said to have been a great war hero. She remembered especially Father Nolte's effort to convince him to move to New Orleans and how glad he was when his son finally acquiesced. She knew all this, but the idea that Victor, this man whose bed she had shared, was this much-loved son of Father Nolte was simply too much. "The shame," she said as pale hands covered her face and she threw herself face down on the bedclothes. "It will burn me to cinders."

He couldn't stop it. Despite everything, the longest night of his life and no doubt hers, he couldn't stop the rich sound of his amusement from filling the room.

"You would laugh at me now...."

"Oh, love." He laughed as he lifted her up and took her back in his arms. This was a mistake. The wild mass of her hair fell over her robe, which opened as he lifted her easily to position her on his lap. He caught sight of the tempting swell of her breasts before she righted the garment and covered her face with her hands.

Hard hot desire shot through his veins, so hot, so fast, he needed a long moment to recover.

His struggle made him laugh again, even as he drew her hands from her face and he saw those beautiful eyes pleading with him for help.

"Jade Terese," he said as his lips gently brushed across her forehead, "there is no shame in what passes between a man and a women behind closed doors. Now, I will not pretend to regret what happened last night, and although I had your passion, I know it was against your will.

Everyone understands this. My father," he emphasized, "seems especially cognizant of the fact." She traced her fingertips over the smooth textures of his face, as if searching for something.

"With your father ... were you ... I mean, were you ... frank?" "Very."

"What did he say?"

He chuckled. "Not a word, love, not a word. His eyes, however, spoke volumes."

He watched as her thoughts raced over this. Again, she surprised him with a priceless conclusion, one that revealed the startling passion and optimism of her heart.

"And yet 'twas all meant to happen, do you not think so? Mercedes is free! And when I think of that precious soul and all that she suffered at that woman's hands, I am so glad. There is no place for regrets; we must celebrate the happy fact. I would do it all a million times again for her...."

He chuckled again, and she smiled as she raised her arms, gathering the thick mass of hair to push it behind her back. The sound abruptly stopped. She heard his sharp intake of breath and somehow it made her aware of the impropriety of their situation, that she sat on his lap in a robe, naked underneath.

Really, though, what could it matter after last night?

She felt the warmth of his body beneath the thin material. She squirmed and stopped suddenly, feeling that part of him pressed against the curve of her hip and his fingers reaching to the folds of the robe at her neck with a feather light caress.

"What are you thinking now, love?"

The words were whisper soft. The tingling awareness of him seemed to light every nerve.

She drew a shaky uneven breath. "I ... I was thinking I should be getting dressed."

"A remarkable coincidence." He laughed, a sound as rich and warm as his touch. "The idea was pressing on my mind as well."

He closed his eyes suddenly, in a swift movement, he lifted her off his lap and set her on the bed. He glanced at the foot of the bed, where her clothes lay in a neat pile. "One of the Sisters retrieved a set of clothes from your house. A bath is waiting for you as well. The water is cool now but the day is very warm. Shall I send someone to help you?"

She shook her head, fighting the lingering sensations of their intimacy. "No, please. I should like to be dressed before I received anyone. If you could just direct me to the bath and set my clothes nearby."

He brought her to the water closet and showed her the commode. She emerged a moment later and stood silently waiting for directions, listening for his footsteps. "Are you quite sure you don't want a maid—"

"Yes. Please."

He took her elbow and led her to the waiting brass tub, filled with cool fresh water. He watched as she knelt down and ran a hand around the rim before standing. "My clothes?"

"Here. Your skirt is hanging from the dressing screen." He guided her hand to it. "The rest are beneath the bath towel here."

She nodded and stepped back to the bath. She stopped a moment. "You are turned away?" "Yes."

She turned toward him. "You are not!" "How can you know that?"

"Your voice would hit the wall before reaching me. It comes directly." "How's this?"

"Better." She let the robe drop and stepped into the cool water.

Victor smiled unseen, grasping certain unexpected benefits of her sightlessness. For she had no idea of his interested gaze upon her. He could only wonder at the lure of her beauty, more powerful than the tides beneath the moon…

Jade sat alone at the breakfast table outside, shaded from a sinking sun by a fragrant magnolia tree. Victor had left after receiving a note from his father, promising to return to escort Jade home in the late afternoon. Sebastian still slept, and after spending the afternoon sharing her newfound joy and happiness with Jade, Mercedes had left again to check on Sebastian.

Jade's thoughts turned to the Reverend Mother, by far the person most disturbed by all that had happened, despite the happy ending. So strangely silent and withdrawn, the Reverend Mother

had left to retire, pleading exhaustion and promising to put Sister Benedict to the task of finding Jade a new servant until Maydrian could be located.

A tall glass of lemonade remained untouched on the table while Jade distractedly tore up croissants and tossed the crumbs to the growing number of chirping birds surrounding her.

Victor, Victor, Victor. The name sounded over and over in her mind. He had unfolded a wondrous mystery to her. A secret part of the world had been revealed. She understood so much more about men and women, love and life. What was to happen to them? Would they fall in love now? Was she already in love?

When would this emotional ride stop to let her catch her breath? All day long she felt intense rushes of unexplainable excitement; she felt those maddening shivers running through her, her stomach tightening into knots while her heart and breathing raced as though she was running, nervous and happy....

Murray and Carl, now both retired to their separate duties, had spared no effort to provide support and comfort once everyone departed, each taking pleasure in feeding Jade's burgeoning curiosity about Victor. Murray now resided here at Victor's house, helping Victor run the shipyard. Seeking to distract her, they told stories of Victor's business success, travels, background and even the remarkable story of how he got his first ship. Still the most surprising information was what she would have known had she been able to see.

"What's so funny," Murray had told her, "is that Father Nolte mentioned you at dinner a few times. He said there was the most remarkable young lady at the convent, that he never met a young lady more delightfully charming or gifted. It seems you're able to play chess without seeing the board. Is that right?"

Many people were surprised by her gifts.

"How did you go blind?" he had asked at one point. "An accident. I was struck in the head."

"A head injury? That is rare. The back of the head?"

"No. 'Twas the front. Would you describe the garden again?”

Booted footsteps sounded on the tiled patio. She turned toward the sound. She knew it was him before he came to kneel in front of her. She felt a tingling flush of excitement.

"Jade Terese," Victor said as a gentle hand curved around her cheek, "can you please tell me how it is you look more beautiful every time I see you?" He chuckled as a slight flush of color suffused her cheeks. "Add a smile and you all but knock me from my footing."

She did look lovely. She sat beneath the blooming tree in a plain skirt of yellow, and a white cotton blouse that a peasant girl might wear. Tiny chirping birds surrounded her. The long hair fell in a neat line down her back; a straw sunbonnet sat on her lap.

"Who left you all alone, sweetheart?"

The question confused her; her smile faded. It was as if he felt she shouldn't be left alone, which, of course, was ridiculous. "Dr. Murray is napping, I think, while Monsieur Carl is attending his duties. The Reverend Mother, I fear, is still distraught by all that's happened; she begged to withdraw from company."