Indigo

by Beverly Jenkins

  "She left her order?"

  "Yes, she said the Lord obviously had other work for her to accomplish. She will tell you that she never questioned that decision. Galeno needed her."

  And he had, Hester thought as she tried to digest the tragic story. Galen had every reason to be the fiercely angry child Maxi had described.

  "When Galeno reached his majority, he came into the inheritance left by his mother, grandpere, and his father's estates. It made him a very wealthy man. He took Maxi from Vada's home the next day and he has never looked back."

  The burial service took place early the next morning. As a member of the family, Hester took her seat in the front pew of the Catholic church and tried not to notice the speculative stares and whispers of the congregation seated behind her. Maxi had been correct, she'd endured more than a few hostile stares from some of the women present, but she didn't flinch from the venomous eyes or turn away.

  The ride to the cemetery took nearly an hour. Even though Vada had spent her entire life disdaining the few drops of African blood in her veins, in death she had no say. Those few drops rendered her as Black as any other member of the race, and because they did, she could not be buried in a White cemetery. Galen thought it only fitting that Vada spend eternity turning in her grave, unable to deny her true ancestry; as Racine quipped the other day, the more Vada turned, the more evenly she would roast.

  Chapter 20

  After a buffet luncheon Hester was glad when she and Galen rode back to his leased house on the river while most of the guests were staying at the expansive old mansion ruled by Vada for over sixty years. All day, she'd been stared at and whispered about. She didn't know if Galen had noticed the hostile looks or the cool greetings, but it confirmed what she'd told him all along; his set was not prepared to accept her. Not that it mattered, she had no plans to live amongst them, and even if that weren't the case, they'd be nothing more than nodding acquaintances; her world encompassed more than gowns, hemlines, and hair dressing.

  In the room she and Galen shared, Hester dropped down into an upholstered chair. She was tired and not looking forward to Vada's memorial ball.

  Galen glanced over at his black-clad wife, and said, "You did well today."

  "With all the cold looks I received it's a wonder I haven't been turned to stone."

  "I noticed the stares. They are from women I wouldn't have married even had we not met, so don't let them upset you."

  "Will we have to attend the ball?" She didn't know if she could endure many more stares without putting someone in her place.

  "I asked Racine the very same question."

  "And her reply?"

  "Yes, if only for a short while."

  Hester pouted like a disappointed child.

  He couldn't contain his chuckle. "My sentiments exactly, petite, but—" He shrugged.

  While she brooded he came over and stood before her. "How's this for a compromise. Suppose we head for home as soon as the ball ends?"

  Hester's eyes shone. "Are you sincere?"

  "I want to go home."

  She got to her feet and rewarded him with a kiss. She wished to go home, too.

  An hour before the ball, the maids came to help Hester dress, so Galen excused himself. He would don his attire in the room shared by Raymond and Andre.

  When the maids uncovered the gown for the evening, Hester's eyes widened at its beauty. She'd never seen this gown before.

  "It's a surprise. Mr. Vachon had it special made," one of the young women told Hester, who stood transfixed by the dark green silk gown. The color was so deep it reminded her of the green of a dark forest. The capped sleeves were softly pleated and would leave her arms bare below the crown of her shoulders. Even on the hanger, the decolletage was daring, while the rest of it flowed like a silk cloud to the floor. The maids produced little heeled slippers to match the green gown, and a pair of long gloves to complete the ensemble.

  Dressed, and with her hair coiled up, Hester stared at herself in the long cheval glass. It amazed her how Galen's choice of clothing could transform her from simple Hester Wyatt into La Petite Indigo Vachon. In the beautiful dress she looked as if she truly did belong at his side.

  He entered the room at that moment and she smiled at the handsome sight he made in his formal all-white attire. The only spot of color came from the dark rose in his lapel. The flower bore the same rich color as the one he'd left beneath her pillow on that night months ago. He appeared taller, and even more handsome, if that were possible. She'd be the envy of every woman in attendance tonight.

  "You look ravishing," he said.

  "And you are going to have your wife turned to stone with your handsomeness."

  Galen stilled. It was the first time she'd referred to herself as his wife and the sound of it on her lips pleased him very much.

  "Is something the matter?"

  "No. I'm just enjoying the sight and sounds of you."

  Hester didn't know what to make of the reply, but the pleasure in his tone made her suddenly shy. "Is it time to depart?"

  "In a moment. We have to remedy a few things first."

  "Such as?"

  He withdrew a slim box from within his coat. "Close your eyes."

  Hester viewed him suspiciously.

  "Close your eyes."

  She complied.

  A few moments of silence passed, then she sensed him at her back. She jumped a bit at the feel of a necklace being draped against her throat. With eyes still closed, she raised her hand and gently passed her fingers over the jewelry while he closed the clasp.

  "You may open your eyes now," he told her.

  In the mirror, Hester stared at the beautiful strand of linked emeralds. They were surrounded by diamonds that made each green stone appear to be a sparkling, emerald-centered snowflake. Before she could get over the wonder of the gift, he held out earrings to match. She placed them in her ears with shaking fingers. She surveyed the effect in the mirror and had to admit the emeralds were the crowning touch.

  Galen thought so, too. Too bad they had to attend Vada's gala. He didn't want her beauty viewed by any eyes but his own this evening.

  "Now...one final touch."

  When she saw him reach into his pocket and extract the small flask of vanilla he'd presented her with that night on the veranda, her heart began to race. It beat faster still as he reached up and slowly traced the stopper behind each of her ears. Next came a gentle touch on the back of her neck, then a deliciously lazy slide over the soft trembling tops of each breast. He placed a fleeting kiss there and she swayed, eyes closed.

  "Lift your dress..."

  Hester, having not an inkling as to what he would do next, modestly raised her dress to just below her knees.

  "Higher, Indigo..."

  Holding his eyes, she slowly revealed the tops of her silk stockings and the lovely little garters which anchored them.

  Galen's eyes glowed. He touched his mouth to her lips—a reward for being so agreeable.

  The reward intensified as he bent and trailed a whisper of scent across the bare skin above the tops of her stockings.

  "Turn for me..."

  She was a prisoner of his spell and so complied without thought.

  "This is all I want you to think of tonight..." Galen whispered as he languidly grazed the stopper over the back of each thigh. He drew a lingering line just below the soft undercurve of her silk-drawered bottom, then as she trembled, drew it up the inner edge of one thigh, and seductively down the other.

  "Don't think about the harpies you'll meet tonight or the gossip you will hear...only of me seeking out these hidden scents later...when we are alone."

  Hester drew in a ragged breath.

  "Now you can let down your gown..." he instructed gently.

  The haze of rising desire muddled her vision and thinking. The gown rustled softly back to the floor.

  He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Are you ready?"

  She somehow managed to say,
"Yes."

  He kissed her softly, then drew away reluctantly.

  At the ball some of the people Hester met were surprisingly friendly while others were January cold. Hester paid them no mind whatsoever. All she had to do was catch her husband's eye, feel the heat reflected there, and be warmed by his shielding love.

  But after a while she sought solitude and fresh air out on the veranda. There were so many people inside, the crush and heat became too much to bear. She saw quite a few others outside taking advantage of the late August evening. As it had been since her arrival, some of the guests acknowledged her polite nods, while others did not.

  "I thought I'd find you out here."

  Hester turned to see Ginette at her side. "Hello, Ginette, are you enjoying yourself?"

  Ginette was dressed in a beautiful creme-colored gown, set off by the sapphires around her neck and golden hoops in her ears. Ginette smiled. "Yes, and you?"

  "I suppose. Some of the people have been very nice while others—" Hester shrugged.

  "Well, I shouldn't say this, but had Galeno ever looked at me the way he has been looking at you all evening, I would have married him, and gladly. You and he are all people are talking about inside."

  Hester didn't really care to know that. "Lately, it seems as if I fuel gossip wherever I go."

  "The gossips may say whatever they like, but Galeno's love for you is very apparent."

  The statement cheered Hester.

  "And do not worry about the gossips. Galeno will kill the first person to insult you, and with the saint's blessing the first to die will be this woman approaching us now."

  Hester stared at Ginette, then looked at the man and woman crossing the veranda. Under the light of the torches set around, the woman seemed to be smiling genuinely as she approached.

  Ginette said, "She has the smile of a croc, n'est pas? Someday, I hope she will be skinned and turned into a lampshade."

  "Ginette?!" Hester laughed.

  "Shhh. Here they come."

  The man introduced himself as Leland Winters. The woman on his arm, Belle Monet, looked to be near Racine's age. Her pale face had probably been very beautiful in her youth, but the heavy powder atop it now appeared to age her well past the years she had meant to conceal. She was tall and junoesque. Her gown was so sheer Hester had to force herself not to stare in shock at the rouge so obviously applied to her nipples!

  Belle's French-inflected words brought Hester's eyes back to her face. "So, you are Galeno's little Hester. Tiny thing, isn't she Leland?"

  Leland, dressed as formally as the other men in attendance, was light-skinned, curly-haired, and handsome. He was grinning at Hester as if he were planning to buy her. "Mais, oui."

  Belle then turned to Ginette and said, "And here is the poor Ginette. Surely Galeno's marriage broke your heart."

  Ginette didn't rise to the bait. She said sweetly, "I am fine, Belle. However, I was a bit worried when I heard from the servants about your rage when you received the announcement that Hester and Galeno were wed. Is it true you took to your bed for three days?"

  Hester watched the smile drop from Belle's face. Her dark eyes were cold when she said, "Galeno and I ended our association many years ago."

  Ginette said easily, "Many years ago, if my memory serves correct."

  It was a barely veiled slap at Belle's age and Hester now understood why Galen said he'd been raised amongst vipers.

  Belle, her croc's grin once again in place, turned from Ginette to Hester. "Is it true you are a former slave?"

  "Yes."

  Belle seemed a bit taken aback by Hester's blunt response. She looked her over as if she could somehow see Hester's past in her manner. "How ever did you meet someone like Galeno Vachon?"

  Hester answered truthfully. "Through mutual friends."

  "Mutual friends?" Belle skeptically echoed.

  Hester didn't elaborate, she merely stood and awaited the next rude question.

  It did not take long. Leland Winters asked drolly, "Word has it you have indigo-stained hands. Belle and I thought we'd come and see if it were true."

  By the look in his eyes Hester realized he actually believed she would honor such a request.

  Before Hester or Ginette could give him the set down he so richly deserved, Galen appeared at her side. "My wife only removes her gloves for me, Winters."

  To emphasize the point, Galen raised her gloved hands to his lips and kissed them. Ignoring Hester's tormentors, he asked, "May I escort you two lovely ladies back inside. Racine wishes to speak with you."

  He didn't even acknowledge Winters or Belle as he ushered Hester and Ginette away.

  When they were out of earshot, Hester looked up at her golden knight and asked, "Did you really have an arrangement with that Monet woman?"

  Galen smiled. "Unfortunately, yes, but chalk it up to the insanity of youth."

  "How old were you?"

  "Seventeen."

  "Seventeen! How old was she?"

  "Twenty-eight."

  Hester stared, too shocked to ask anything more.

  She and Galen set out for home a short while later. In the shadow-filled coach she felt herself relax for what seemed the first time in days. She hoped she would not have to visit Galen's world again anytime in the near future. So much venom had to be detrimental to the soul.

  Galen was seated on the velvet seat across from her. His voice came at her out of the shadows, "Did Belle and Winters say anything to offend you?"

  She shook her head. "No, not really. They reminded me of the children who taunted me my first year in school. I've learned since then not to let the ignorance of others touch me."

  "I promise you, we won't travel in those circles any more than is absolutely necessary."

  "I plan on holding you to your word," she said, happy he knew how she felt. "I did enjoy Ginette's company, however. She's rather nice."

  "She's grown into a surprisingly competent woman. Maybe now that you and I are wed, her parents will let her marry the man she really loves."

  "And who would that be?"

  "Raymond's youngest brother, Gerrold."

  "Raymond has a younger brother?"

  "Raymond has five younger brothers. Though you didn't meet them, they were the men who accompanied Raymond the night he came to take me home."

  The memory of that steamy October encounter was still vivid. What a night that had been. "Does Raymond have a love?"

  "Raymond?!" Galen echoed skeptically. "He boasts an inborn immunity to Cupid's sting. But if it can happen to me, his time is surely running out. I can't wait until he meets her."

  "You two tease each other mightily."

  "We've known each other our whole lives. He lived up the road from my grandpere. When my parents' death forced me to come north, we lost touch for a while, but once Maxi and I moved back to New Orleans after I gained my majority, he and I resumed our friendship. We've been inseparable ever since—until I met you..."

  His words touched Hester like a caressing hand as his dark eyes held hers through the moving shadows that played over the interior of the rolling coach. The air had become thick with anticipation and unspoken desire. Hester's lips parted of their own accord and her nipples rose as if they'd already received his touch. As she'd been instructed, all evening she'd thought of nothing but his scenting of her, and his promise to seek them out later when they were alone.

  Galen ran his eyes over his seductive little mistress-wife and knew that hidden beneath the voluminous emerald cloak lay ebony skin that had been scented by his own hand. He'd been fighting his arousal all night, but now that they were alone, he could have his way with her. "Since that day in Detroit, I've wanted to make love to you in this coach."

  His soft declaration made her tremble, because he'd voiced her own secret desire.

  "I want to open your cloak and kiss the tops of your breasts. I want to place you atop my lap, then watch your eyes when I fill you..."

  She couldn't speak. His
heated words touched her in all the places he'd attuned to passion. The gates he'd opened were ones she could no longer close. His presence streamed over her like the annual spring flooding of the Nile, leaving her rich and full as a delta.

  "Come sit beside me," he invited.

  When she was by his side, Galen slowly opened the frogs of her cloak, then parted the halves to reveal her beauty. He leaned down to kiss the ebony throat above the necklace, then the fragrant sweetness below. His hand slid up her back, and with a touch made her arch to bring herself closer. The scent of the vanilla had been warmed by the heat of her skin over the course of the evening and had mellowed to a deep, full richness. It clung to her shoulders, her jaw, the smooth plane beneath her ears. How such a simple vanilla bean could invoke such an erotic aroma was a question he had no time to ponder; her pleasuring and the heights he'd take her to this night were his only concern.

  He surrendered to the temptation of her parted lips and kissed her mouth. She met him willingly, enticing him with tiny bites on his lips, and sultry licks of her tongue. He pressed her back against the seat, then kissed her possessively.

  It evolved into a lingering, seductive encounter; her bodice was eased down, her gown was rucked up. As promised, he sought out the scents he had hidden earlier, kissing, exploring, shocking. Until finally, just when Hester thought she might melt from the heat, he eased her atop his lap. He filled her with his desire and held her eyes as he taught her the glory of making love astride.

  The coach rolled on.

  Dawn had just pinkened the sky when the coach pulled onto the road leading to Whittaker. Hester wanted to stop by the Wyatt house before going on to the Folly. Although she and Galen had only been gone a few days, she needed to make certain no runaways were awaiting her return.

  As the coach halted, Galen said, "You're going to have to put down your gown..."

  It had been a heated, erotic ride, and throughout it all she hadn't known who'd been the more demanding, Galen or herself. She could make love to him for an eternity.

  In contrast to his words however, his hands continued to explore the dewy offerings beneath her skirts.

  "You'll have to stop, Galen." The bliss pounded between her thighs like a heartbeat.