by Dana Roquet
“She is small.” Mary nodded, turning to Stephen, “But the doctor just saw her and assures us she will be fine—just fine.” Mary puttered about Desiree, fluffing her pillows and tucking the corner of a sheet beneath the ticking, “He will be up to see you directly sweet. We found the bottle of the drug in Jacques’ room, that he has been adding to your food and drink. It was hidden in a desk drawer. You are going to be fine now.” she smiled, kissing Desiree’s cheek and with a warm grasp of her hand, Mary left the couple alone with their child.
Stephen carefully raised himself from the chair and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss upon Desiree’s mouth, “Thank you for giving me this tiny treasure, my love—but I am terrified I might do her damage.” He walked gingerly to the opposite side of the bed, placing the baby beside Desiree and then carefully sat next to them both.
Desiree smiled contentedly, turning to her side and touching her daughter’s hand then looked up to Stephen’s eyes, “I had prayed for a son—a son that would resemble you so I would never forget what you looked like.”
He chuckled, “Well my sweet—you shall be forced to look upon this face for years and years to come. Your first sight each morning when you open your eyes and your last sight before you close your eyes at night.”
“Gladly, Captain Colter.” Desiree sighed happily.
“So! Have you decided on a name for this little soon to be Colter?”
Oui, What was your grandmother’s name—on your mother’s side?”
“Victoria.”
“Victoria—Angelique, for my grandmother.
“Victoria Angelique Colter.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Desiree reclined upon a heap of pillows on a bunk, in the passenger cabin of the Venture, cuddling Victoria as she suckled greedily, taking her last feeding of the day. This motherly task she had lost all hope of experiencing was now one of the pleasant chores of her day. The doctor had deemed her able, that very afternoon of Stephen’s return to her life, since it was found that there was no malady and no reason to continue with a wet nurse.
Desiree touched the delicate lace that trimmed the billowing sleeves of her satin dressing gown. Beneath was a filmy white gown, with delicate straps and seductively cut bodice that left most of the upper curve of her breasts exposed. The two small fasteners at the valley between her breasts, proved handy for the task of feeding the baby—but her mind was thinking ahead, when she would spend this first night as Stephen Colter’s wife and share herself with him, after so many months of separation.
She smiled contentedly, as her mind wandered back to the ceremony this morning at the small chapel in Rouen. Her gown had been simple and yet elegant; white silk and a traditional veil. She had carried a bouquet of summer flowers and on the arm of her godfather Francois Roche’ had walked up the short isle bedecked in blooms and filled with only her closest friends to meet her dashing sea captain. Stephen had been elegantly attired in a dark navy blue suit, with a white shirt and stock and a single rose bud in his lapel. Francois had lifted the veil and placed a kiss upon each of her cheeks, then handed her into Stephen’s care. Stephen had taken her hand and together they had knelt at the alter, waiting for the priest to begin, and neither had been able to stop gazing into each another’s eyes as they waited.
After a prayer, they had rose and Rene’ had come to stand at Stephen’s side. Instead of the groom; he had been content with being best man. When the time came, Rene’ had removed the thin gold band from the pocket of his waist coat, laying it upon the open bible for the priest’s blessing and then Stephen had slipped the ring upon her finger, vowing to love, honor and cherish until death, repeating the vows after the priest. Stephen’s voice had been strong and full of emotion as he spoke the words but in his eyes—she had seen a vow, no spoken pledge could match. His eyes told her a thousand fold of his love. A love she had not one doubt of, a love as boundless as her own for him. She had gazed up into his eyes as she repeated the words, her voice soft, her vision blurring with tears of happiness. It was almost painful, the love she felt for him, so all encompassing, so total. She felt she could hardly bear the heady joy.
The last six weeks had been pure bliss; a heaven on earth. Stephen had stayed at the house, in separate chambers, while she recuperated from Jacques Monet’s attempt on her life and the birth of the baby. The effects of both were no longer apparent. She had regained some of the weight she had lost but was still a bit too slim, Bridgett insisted. The pallor had left her face, the dark circles were no more. She felt as fit as ever.
She had slept contented each night, knowing Stephen was near and sometimes, this last month or so, she had gone to his room, slipping into his bed and talking softly with him, in hushed whispers. Or she would simply lie within his embrace and drift to sleep, secure in his arms. It had been a time of discovery and rediscovery. Regaining the easy comfort they had once shared. Speaking truthfully and frankly and one by one, casting away all the old conflicts and misunderstandings.
Her mind strayed now, to thoughts of Rene’ and how happily he had given her his blessing, even going so far as to lend his services to Stephen as interpreter, accompanying him to town, as Stephen groomed Philippe to manage her interests in France. Rene’ had been in awe of Stephen’s business head and had told her so, as well as impressed with Stephen in general and he had admitted that she could not have found a better man, except, of course, for himself.
Philippe had been reluctant to take on the managing of her affairs, totally against moving into the house, but she had been determined that he would be the one and finally he had succumbed. The house would have been vacant but for servants, and he could stay there until the completion of his house on his own land or for as long as he wanted. She knew of no one she could trust more thoroughly to care for the business her father had built than Philippe, nor of one more capable of managing that business. Under Stephen’s knowledgeable care, Philippe had come to realize that, indeed, he could manage. It was in truth just a larger version of the business he had been involved in, procuring cargo, moving it, a much larger version!
The baby finished nursing and Desiree fastened her gown and rose, with a rocking motion, crossing the cabin, humming a lullaby until the little eyes closed again and the babe slept. Bridgett entered and Desiree motioned her to silence and turning her attention back to the baby in her arms, she lulled her into a deeper sleep, continuing to hum softly.
Desiree was not aware of Stephen as he arrived and stood at the threshold of the cabin, watching her as she kissed their child and moved to the cradle, placing the babe within. With a finger across her lips, she smiled at Bridgett beside her, turning away from the cradle. A gurgling coo brought a dejected frown to her exquisite features and she turned back, with arms akimbo, to be met by wide eyes.
“I fear she is not in the slightest ready to sleep.” Desiree said, lifting the small bundle once more, “Be a good little girl and sleep for Mama.” She crooned gently.
Bridgett looked to Stephen where he leaned against the threshold with arms crossed over his chest, watching Desiree with loving eyes.
“Sweet,” Bridgett said softly, “I shall entertain this little night owl.” She held out her arms toward the baby and when Desiree’s eyes met hers, Bridgett inclined her head toward the door, “I see someone more in need of your care.” she whispered with a gentle smile.
Desiree turned to her handsome husband, only hours aged into that title and smiled softly. His gaze was tender and glowing and the message was clear. Desiree handed the child into Bridgett’s arms, “I shall say good night then Bridgett.” She breathed; her eyes trapped within her husbands, as she walked across the room and placed her hand into his. Stephen closed the door behind them, leading her to their cabin.
“Are we ready to sail in the morning then?” Desiree asked.
“At first light—so we had best enjoy our few hours of solitude this night, for Bridgett is sure to take ill and we shall have a certain little someone sharing
our quarters for at least a few days and nights.” he chuckled.
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I had.” He nodded with a wide grin.
Stephen paused at the door of their cabin, opening it wide and then lifting Desiree into his arms carried her across the threshold, before setting her gently to her feet and closing the door behind them.
Desiree smiled coyly up into his eyes, as he turned from the door. He leaned back against the portal, gazing at her for a long moment.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
“So many things, I don’t know where to begin.”
“Then let’s save it for later.” She whispered, holding out her arms toward him.
He approached her, sliding his arms about her waist as his mouth gently tested hers. Desiree wrapped her arms about his neck and sighed against his parted lips, “I love you so much Stephen Colter.”
“I love you Desiree more than I could express in a lifetime.” His lips caressed hers, tracing down to her chin and throat.
His emotions were raging, a torrent that trembled his knees, causing his heart to race. He was alive again, after months of living hell. The torment, the punishment he had rained upon himself, the hopelessness, the loneliness, all gone now. He held within his arms, the meaning of his life—his reason for being.
Desiree could feel the pounding of his heart, the trembling of his arms that held her in a tight embrace and she knew that this was more than just their wedding night. They were facing that last obstacle; the last of the ghosts would be put to rest this night, as they shared once more, what they had last shared in anger and in such a sad and lonely way. She whispered softly in his ear, “I’ve missed you so much Stephen. It has been so very long. Make love to me.”
“With pleasure my love.”
He kissed her gently, their breath warm in one another’s mouths, as he loosed the belt about her waist and slipped his hands within the robe, sliding it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as his hands moved over the flesh of her arms and across the swell of her breasts. Their eyes met and locked, trapped in the depths of each others as he slowly unfastened the frogs of the hazy veil over her body and it slipped to her feet. He reached behind her neck, drawing the clip from her hair, sending it tumbling down her back and he caressed a handful of the silky black tresses, then he cupped her face in his hands, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her parted lips and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the berth.
That night, their love outshined both the sun and the moon, with its radiant splendor. She had regained that which made her a woman, the man whose love she could not live without. And he, had become the man he was meant to be, his torment was at its end. He had awakened from his nightmare and found that his desire lived, it had been lost for a time but it lived—with this one woman.
Epilogue
Desiree pulled up as straight as she possibly could, looking into the mirror as she turned about, surveying her waist. She frowned, releasing her breath with a disgusted click of her tongue. The vertical stripes of the dress, did help to mask the still slightly rounded belly, as Bridgett had sworn they would, but it was all to obvious to Desiree. She patted her hair, and then touched perfume to her wrists, still observing her figure.
The master bedroom door flew open and Stephen sauntered in, crossing his arms over his chest as he whistled appreciatively. Desiree glared at his reflection in the mirror, not at all in agreement with his opinion, “You brute Stephen Colter. You have ruined my figure, permanently I fear.” She turned about for him, giving him a good look at the damage.
“Let me see…” he contemplated her seriously, strolling up and pulling her into his arms, “Now when we first met, I could encircle your waist easily with one arm, if memory serves.” He accomplished the test with ease. “See there—three times a mother and you still have the figure of a girl.” he chuckled, nuzzling her neck.
“Stop that Captain Colter. I believe this is exactly how you began some ten odd months ago—warm sunshine, a tropical breeze billowing at the curtain, gentle kisses and then—I swelled up as if I had swallowed a melon!”
“Yes but you did finally give me a son my love, I am eternally grateful.” He chuckled and then lifted his head, looking into her eyes. “That reminds me why I came up here. It was to call your attention to something.”
He clasp her hand in his and led her from their room, down a corridor of their large, gracious home which set upon the rise above Somerset, Bermuda, and led her down the stairs, crossing to the entrance hall, where he peeked out the front window. “Now Madame Colter—take a look out there and tell me what you see. That daughter of yours is getting totally out of hand.”
Desiree peered around the draperies, to the lawn, where Victoria stood in the large stone pool in the center of the front grounds. Her shoes and stockings were tossed upon the grass, forgotten. Her lovely taffeta gown was slung across her arm, as she stood knee deep in the pool with two friends, Stephen’s first mate’s son John Henry Davison and Timothy’s son, William. Victoria stooped over, apparently trying to catch a fish in her bare hand and as Desiree watched, she slipped, falling backwards into the water.
“Stephen look!” Desiree laughed, motioning him to the window, “Now you just watch.” she giggled, “Those two lads shall be in for a surprise if I am any judge of Victoria—and I am.”
The two boys were laughing hysterically; clapping their hands in applause at the accomplishment and Victoria pouted and with a dramatically exaggerated effort, tried to stand. When both boys came forward to assist her, taking her hands and helping her up, she instead, pulled as hard as she could and both boys toppled forward into the water.
Desiree laughed brightly, dropping the drape back into place and started for the front door, “Now I want you to observe Stephen. I will be very much surprised if Victoria must claim any responsibility at all for this calamity.”
***
Victoria smiled sweetly, when she saw her parents approach, standing up from the water while her playmates thrashed about wildly, enjoying the cool dip.
“Victoria Colter! What on earth happened?” Desiree gasped, as if surprised, “And your lovely dress, it shall be ruined.”
Stephen stood back a pace, listening to Desiree’s performance and the two boys came to their feet, assisting Victoria from the pool gallantly.
“I take the blame, Captain.” Seven year old, John Henry piped up, smiling sweetly at Victoria, “It was an accident. Please don’t blame Victoria.” he begged, squirming under Stephen’s doubtful scowl.
“Well Victoria, is that so?” Desiree questioned.
“Not exactly—but it could be called an accident I suppose.” Victoria decided thoughtfully.
Desiree lifted a brow at her husband, in silent communication and then she tousled the golden blonde curls of her six year old, looking into eyes that mirrored her own for color and she laughed softly, “Oh Ma Cherie I know these accidents so very well. You best go in and let Bridgett get you changed. Boys, you had better run home and do the same. Will—make certain you tell your father what happened will you?”
William stuck his bottom lip out, pondering the idea in his little mind, looking so very much like Timothy. Even though he was barely five years, he was definitely his father’s son.
“Aunt Desiree must I?”
“Your father will understand Will. I think you just might make him laugh if you tell him.” Desiree predicted, remembering their similar unsuspected swim in the ocean so many years ago.
“Then I shall.”
The two boys collected their shoes and stockings, bidding Victoria farewell and Victoria giggled mischievously, turning and skipping toward her father.
Stephen scowled at her, sensing she was up to no good and when she approached him with arms outstretched, intending to give him a soggy hug, he stepped back, glaring menacingly, “You move along into the house this minute little Miss Colter or you shall be very sorry—I assure y
ou.” he warned.
Victoria giggled happily, “Oh Father! You are just an old stick in the mud!” she announced and scampered away.
Stephen knitted his brow, turning to Desiree and frowned sullenly, “Am I?”
Desiree crossed her arms over her chest, peering at him as if deciding. She looked at his handsome face, then slowly down his lean hard frame. He was more handsome now than the day she had met him, over seven years ago; still the light of her life, still her knight in shining armor, her friend, her lover. She smiled softly, then forced it away and tried to look distressed by the answer she was about to give.
“Stephen—you know, you are going on thirty-four years now. I am afraid my love, you are definitely old but as for the last…” she pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“You little minx!” he growled. He whisked her into his arms, striding to the pool and dipping as if to deposit her there.
“Stephen! Put me down this instant! You dare dunk me and I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” he teased.
“I’ll…”
He stopped her words with a fiery kiss, which brought her breath to a trembling halt. “I love you.” he whispered, “Even though you are an old stick in the mud!” He chuckled at his joke, ignoring the angry sparks shooting from her violet eyes and with her still in his arms, he headed for the house.
“I am not old!” Desiree pouted.
“Ancient!”
“Ha!” she answered.
“But I am?” he questioned.
“Well—a young Romeo you are not.” She laughed, turning the handle for him and he pushed the door open with a foot, and gave pause, looking into her eyes.
