With One Look (26 page)

"During all this time her hatred for Elizabeth grew and thrived. Elizabeth was the demon. Elizabeth was the evil one who stole her only happiness. Elizabeth had put an evil spell on Philip. Amulets and threats and voodoo fetishes appeared regularly on the Devon plantation. The threats kept escalating, then suddenly for no reason anyone knew, they'd stop. Years might pass relatively free from Juliet's relentless hatred and torments. Then, again with the same capriciousness, they would start again. Elizabeth sought my advice when finally one of her prized mares succumbed to a mysterious ailment that could only be poisoning.

"You'd have to know Elizabeth to understand how she tried to resolve this sordid situation she found herself in. She had long since forgiven her husband, whom she loved very deeply. She was a women of refined taste and sensibilities, and yet headstrong, forthright, characteristics many people in our community found refreshing in a woman, while others, well—" She shrugged her shoulders. "No matter that now."

"Well, what happened?"

"The horse. Elizabeth finally became frightened. She demanded that either Juliet be deported to a faraway place or that Philip return with her to England—which was out of the question, of course. His family had owned the plantation for nearly fifty years and it was his life.

He began the arrangements to have Juliet deported—illegally—in the dark dead of night. She was to be transported to Brazil.

"A week or so before this desperate plan was to be launched, Terese found two wax voodoo dolls. The smaller doll had its eyes burnt out, the larger doll had its head severed—"

"Jade told me about that."

The Reverend Mother closed her eyes. Her pounding heart was a loud roar in her ears. She clung tightly to her statuette, and on the heels of a long pause, she confessed, "The fire occurred one week later...."

Victor braced for the end of the story. So it was a woman and her insane attendants— voodoo practitioners. How he loathed the superstitions and idiocies of the ignorant. They would just have to find where she was now and force a confession, he supposed.... "And this woman," he said. "Where is she now?"

"You don't understand," the Reverend Mother said, her voice near breaking. "Juliet drowned shortly after the fire. Juliet has long been dead...."

"Marie, what are you telling me? There are only two people who could have made that amulet and yet neither of them did?"

It was both a statement and a question. Marie did not know how to explain it differently to Victor, who would neither understand nor believe.

They sat alone in one of Marie's anterooms. The windows opened onto the courtyard. A profusion of flowers below threw a riot of perfumed scents in the air and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He turned back to Marie. Colors softened beneath the setting sun, casting her in a lovely light as she sat across from him on a maroon velvet meridenne. "Marie ..."

"It is all I can tell you. It is all I know and the only thing I know. My servants spoke to the current queen—a madwoman often seen at the market, a woman named Malyina. She is harmless. She mostly just cures people of their ailments or arranges love matches. They've also contacted the voodoo doctor, Tars, who I believe you know of—and these are the only two people who could make that amulet."

"And this Dr. JohnJohn?" "Buried six years ago."

Marie paused, her dark eyes lowered, her thoughts spinning around the difficulties here. She wanted very much to help him; she was certain to fail. She did not tell him that she'd had the spell removed. For he did not believe in spells. Yet she knew well the awesome power of gris-gris. The mind and the imagination were omnipotent and it was from these mighty sources that the spells and potions and curses worked their magic. "So, no"—she shook her head—"they did not make this terrible thing. I know them both and I am satisfied with their testimony."

"Marie, somebody made it!"

"Yes, of course." She searched for another way to say it, but found none. "The people talk of a spirit that is appearing at secret ceremonies held at Lake Femae. This spirit woman is said to hold great powers: the power of death—"

"Back to spirits?" Victor shook his head and said slowly, "This is not helping."

"No," she agreed. "I do not believe I can help you. For how can I make you believe what I know? The person who is threatening Jade Terese is not a man. It is a woman. The woman is dead."

Victor did not believe any of this. He swallowed his drink whole, setting it with a clink on the table. He knew he was wasting his time now, but because he cared for Marie and deeply, he did not follow his first impulse to storm from the room in frustration.

Marie's gaze was unwavering.

"Marie, a dead woman did not make that amulet or throw Jade into that whorehouse, or break into my house. And Marie"—he paused for effect—"a dead woman did not hang her maid upside down with a slit throat."

She did not know how to answer. "I am as baffled as you. Perhaps more because I know the

truth."

"Marie ... I want ... I just want her safety."

Hearing his agony, agony born of his fear, Marie rose and stepped to him. She reached to touch him, her lovely eyes serious: "For you, for your piece of mind, mon amour, I can tell you that she will be safe as long as she is with you."

He wanted badly to believe this. And he did, especially considering all the facts: the relative isolation of his country estate, how no one knew she was staying there, how someone was always with her.

Then too, that dog. He was still just a puppy, but the other night Sebastian wanted to show how very remarkably the dog protected her. Once everyone had retired, they stepped outside her door. Nothing happened until Sebastian put his hand gently on the door. Sure enough, a low puppy growl sounded from the other side.

"You know, I got her a dog—"

"Yes, I do. Not quite a dog, is he?" Marie asked, smiling when Victor looked quite surprised. "He is a very noble creature." She said in a whisper, "I have seen him in a dream. He will save Jade's life—twice."

She had seen a picture taken from the distance future. Jade was sitting at a cluttered desk. Victor stood behind her when two boys came running into the room. They were so beautiful, their sons. The boys were excited over a find in the woods. They led both their parents out. Then they were kneeling over a fallen creature.

Jade dropped to her knees and buried her face in the fur. It was the wild dog. An animal would appear in Jade's dreams. An animal that would draw her outside in the dark middle of the night when the moon was up and the shadows fell over the dark woods where she imagined she saw the creature watching over her. She'd call his name over and over until finally Victor would rise and enclose her with his love and sympathy, as he moved her back inside.

It was Wolf Dog.

As the startled boys stared at their mother, Marie heard Victor explaining to his sons that here was the dog that saved their mother's life. More than once, he told them, more than once. As he took Jade into his arms and as his sons crowded around to comfort their mother, Victor gently stroked the wolf dog's fur. "We owe our lives to this dog, our very lives ..."

Remembering this dream, she said to Victor, "Jade is your mate; she is the blessing in your

life."

Victor's gaze searched Marie's with fiery intensity. "No," he whispered, his expression filling with unspeakable pain. "No ..."

*****

"We be right back," Tessie said as she met Jade at the water's edge with a towel. "Chachie's got some bread baking. Should be ready by now."

Breathless from her swim, Jade sighed with exasperation. "Tessie, there is no one in the world who eats so much but for whom food does so little."

"Yes, ma'am." Tessie said as she broke into a run toward the house.

Wolf Dog saw some fun as Jade picked up her chemise. Grabbing the cloth in his mouth, he bounced away with it and growled. "Oh, you rascal, you!" She called him back. He came immediately but not with the chemise. "Wolf Dog!" She carefully searched the ground, then again, and once more before finally giving up. She slipped back into the water to wait for Tessie's return.

Knowing trouble when he saw it, Carl took one glance at Victor and stopped himself from asking how things had progressed in New Orleans, stopped himself from asking anything. Victor wore beige breeches, black boots, a canvas vest. Two days' growth of beard and a threatening scowl had changed his face and made him look as villainous as a backwoods bounty hunter....

Hands on hips, he asked, "Where's Sebastian?"

"Just back from the fencing academy. Now I believe he is fishing at the river with Mercedes. Murray is napping."

"Jade?"

Carl looked past Victor's tall frame. Victor turned to see Tessie coming through the front door. He normally greeted Tessie affectionately. She seemed to stop as she waited for it.

"Where's Jade?"

"She's down at the pond. I left her to fetch some food." "You left her alone?"

Tessie nodded as she lowered her head.

With a pointed finger and a stern tone: "I've told you once: you are not to leave her alone.

Ever. Unless someone is with her, you are to be by her side."

"Yes, sir," she said with a pounding heart. Nothing could be worse than Victor's scolding.

This was her first. "I'll run back right now."

"No, it's all right. I have to talk to her anyway."

Victor quietly approached the scene. For several minutes he just stood there staring. It seemed to epitomize his struggle; Jade Terese floated in the shallows, her face tilted to the sun, naked, vulnerable to anyone or anything and totally oblivious to all.

Jade felt the hot sun on her face, the soothing warm water surrounding her. She had not a thought. Slowly, rhythmically, she sank beneath the surface, took a mouthful of water, popped up and squirted the water into a fountain, smiling as it splashed back on her face.

As she squirted the next mouthful of water, she sensed the coolness of a shadow falling over her. She nearly choked. A cloud? A person!

She bolted up, swung her arms in a wide circle and touched a boot. "Who's there?" She scrambled back as her arms protectively covered herself. "Who is it?" No answer. She screamed, ducked under the water but too late. Two strong hands caught her at the waist.

She screamed again as he threw her over his shoulder and knocked the wind from her.

Adrenaline shot through her limbs. She kicked and screamed, her fists pounded into his back but this did not slow him down let alone stop him. He threw her onto the blanket and lowered himself quickly on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground and her body beneath his.

"Victor!" She said his name in a cry as her stomach turned in leaps. "Victor! You scared me so! You scared me—

"I meant to scare you! Just what the hell do you think you're doing out here, naked and alone? God, girl, where's your sense?"

"I ... was ... Oh, Victor, I—"

"There is no excuse for this! What is it going to take to make you realize..."

His voice thundered above her and on and on he yelled, but she could barely comprehend, swept as she was with relief that it was him. It was him. Thank God.

Heavens, did he have a monstrous temper! A monster that emerged anytime he imagined she was hurting herself, or anything having to do with her blindness. He did not seem to trust her ability to get around sightless....

A scene drawn from recent memory floated dizzily to mind: She had waked to discover Wolf Dog was not in her room. She imagined the puppy had fallen off the balcony and she had flown in a panic, ringing the servant's rope, over and over, but it was taking too long. She raced into the hall and flew down the stairs, falling in her panic. She just sprained her ankle, but for all of Victor's fury she might have broken her neck. "I could have lost you over a dog, a goddamned

dog ..." and on and on he had yelled then.

His weight crushed her unmercifully and she squirmed, interrupting the torrent of words. "Victor, please let me up."

"Not a bloody chance."

Quite suddenly the whole situation changed. "If you don't let me up ... I'll ..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll sic Wolf Dog on you!"

His chuckle was one of plain masculine scorn. He took one glance around and spotted the puppy sound asleep under a tree. Sleeping through the attack, wolf or not, no better than a cat. "Something like, 'Get him boy? Get him?'"

"Yes! Yes! Wolf Dog, Wolf Dog! Help!" Wolf Dog awoke at his name, perked up, and came bouncing over to them. "Get him, Wolf Dog. Get him!"

Wolf Dog showed Victor how terribly wrong he was: The little puppy, already four hands high and still growing, was more than willing to rescue her. He bounced over to Victor, yelping as his little head shook back and forth, a demonstration of how he would tear Victor apart.

Victor rolled over with his laughter.

Once released, Jade sat up and swept her puppy into her arms. "My brave little puppy! You showed him! You showed that monster that he can't take advantage of us! You showed him, my brave little Wolf Dog!"

She seemed so beautiful then, holding the puppy against her bare skin, laughing and praising his fine show. The long wet hair fell over her, curling in a wet heap at her hips. Her face was flushed from the sun and her enchanting eyes sparkled as if reflecting some inner light. And that body of hers. Never had he wanted a woman so much; never had it been so physical. Like a thirst it was, his body seeking—nay, needing, demanding—the erotic play and release brought by that slender form against his.

Dear God, what was he going to do?

He fell back and stared at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. She was tearing him in two. Everyday his love grew, like a wondrous winged creature flying higher and higher, soaring to a previously unimagined height. And with this miraculous love came the certainty that it was not enough. Love was not enough. Marriage to her would bring regret, perhaps even resentment, a thing that could not destroy the love but could change it from a heavenly bliss to a poison. He had to start distancing himself, somehow—