by Bobbi Smith
Merrie gazed up at Brandy, her regard assessing, as if she were looking into her very heart and soul. "You're very pretty and nice, too," she pronounced.
"Why, thank you. So are you. It's no wonder your godfather thinks so highly of you."
"You know Uncle Rafe?"
"I met him just last night."
"He's wonderful."
"He feels the same way about you."
Merrie beamed at her words. "I want to marry him when I grow up, `cause next to my daddy, he's the man I like best. But Uncle Rafe just laughs and tells me he's too old for me."
"So your uncle isn't married?"
"No. Papa says Uncle Rafe doesn't ever want to get married, but if he did decide to get married, he'd probably marry me."
"Why doesn't he want to get married?" This news surprised her. From the look of him, she'd have thought that Rafe Marchand could have had any woman he wanted.
"I don't know." The child answered simply. "I think being married would be fun."
"I do, too. Merrie, I was just going to my room to get a book to read. Would you like to sit out on deck and read with me?" Brandy looked at Louise for her approval, and she was pleased when the nanny smiled and nodded.
"Do you have any good books with pictures?" Merrie asked.
"I most certainly do. Do you like books?"
She nodded. "My Papa reads to me a lot when we're home. It's fun looking at the pictures and figuring out what the words mean."
"Wait right here with your nanny, and I'll see what I've got in my cabin that you might enjoy. I'll be right back."
Merrie and Louise sat down in two chairs on deck to await her return.
"Did you find any?" Merrie asked when Brandy returned a short time later.
"I have one I think you're going to enjoy."
Brandy drew a chair over and sat down next to Merrie. They began to page through the book. It was Brandy's favorite-an illustrated children's Bible, a gift from her mother when she'd been about Merrie's age. She carried it with her wherever she went. They paged through it slowly, looking at the pictures of Noah and the Ark, and the pictures of angels and the devil.
"My papa says that Mama is an angel now."
"Your mother's in heaven?"
Merrie nodded as she met Brandy's regard. The look in her eyes made her seem very old. "She died last year. It seems like a long time. Sometimes, now, I don't even remember what she looked like."
"I understand."
"You do?"
"Yes, my father died when I was young. It's just been my mother and me ever since, but sometimes I miss him real bad."
"I would miss Papa and Uncle Rafe, too, if anything ever happened to them. I bet you're lonely."
"I am some days, but I still have my mother."
"Mothers are nice."
"I think so, too. Mine is one of the nicest people I know."
"Are you going to be a mother?"
"Not any time soon," Brandy answered, stifling a laugh at the innocence of Merrie's question. "Someday I'd like to be, but you have to fall in love and get a husband before you can become a mother."
"Sometimes things are complicated, aren't they?"
She sounded so mature and so perplexed by it all that Brandy did laugh out loud this time. "I'm sure it's not as terrible as it seems. After all, you're very young and have a lot of time yet to make all your dreams come true."
"Do you dream a lot?"
"I used to. In fact, I was just talking to Captain Ben the other night about how I used to dream of living in a big plantation house when I was little."
"You don't dream about it any more?"
"No, not any more. Besides, most of the time, now that I work with Captain Ben, I get to live on the Pride. That's probably even more fun than living in a big house."
Merrie's eyes lit up. "You get to live on this steamboat? That would be fun. You get to go places and meet lots of people."
"That I do," Brandy agreed.
A short time later, the men returned.
"Merrie! Captain Ben invited us to sit at his table and eat dinner with him!"
Merrie was impressed. "Can Miss Brandy come, too? She's nice. I like her."
"Of course she can," Marc answered.
Brandy was touched by the child's open acceptance of her, and Marc's quick agreement to her joining them.
"I'd love to if Captain Ben will have me," she teased.
"It is an honor to have you grace my table any time," Ben said as he started off to take care of business. "I'll see everyone this evening."
"Uncle Rafe! Guess what? The captain invited us to have dinner with him at his table tonight. You want to go?" Jason asked eagerly as he spied Rafe coming down the deck toward him a short time later.
"You met the captain, did you?" Rafe asked.
Jason excitedly told him all about his tour of the pilothouse and his visit with Ben. Rafe found his enthusiasm contagious and agreed to join them.
"It must be nice to get to sleep late," Marc remarked to Rafe when the nanny had taken the children off to play.
"I was up later than you were last night," he countered. "When I was on my way back to my room, there was some trouble on deck. The captain was putting Jackson ashore and things got a little rough." He related what had transpired with the drunk. "I ran into Brandy right after it happened, and she'd heard all of it."
"It must be hard on her, knowing people are always thinking such things."
Rafe shrugged. "She chose the job. Nobody forced her to take it."
"That's true enough, but I'll tell you what. I was right about one thing."
"What?"
"There's more to Brandy than meets the eye. She was with the captain this morning looking like a regular lady. With the right clothes, she could fool anybody. Oh, and she'll be dining with us tonight, by the way."
Rafe said nothing. He remembered all too well how she'd disdained his offer to escort her to her cabin the night before. It would be an interesting evening.
It was dark when dinner was served. Jason was given the seat to Ben's right, and the boy gloried in being so close to him. Ben found the youth an entertaining companion and answered his multitude of questions with patience and good humor.
Brandy took extra care in dressing for dinner that night. She selected a suitably demure gown that would reflect well on the captain and his guests. As she made her entrance and crossed the room to Ben's table, the men all turned to watch her, while the "good" women all whispered cattily behind their fans.
"Good evening, Merrie.. .Gentlemen..." she greeted them as she reached the table.
Rafe, Marc and Ben stood, and Ben pulled out the chair on the other side of him for her.
"Evening, Brandy," he said.
"Hi, Miss Brandy," Merrie chirped, glad to see her new friend again. "Uncle Rafe's eating with us tonight, too."
Brandy had been aware of Rafe's presence since the minute she'd entered the dining room.
"Mr. Marchand," she said coolly, her gaze sweeping over him quickly to focus on Marc as she slipped into her chair. "Mr. LeFevre."
"Marc, please," he insisted. "I'm glad you could join us."
"Good evening, Brandy," Rafe said with an appreciative gleam in his eyes as he gazed at her across the table. There was no denying her beauty, and tonight she was, by far, the fairest in the room.
The men sat back down and the meal was served. Conversation remained general. Merrie dominated Brandy, as Jason questioned the captain nonstop about the workings of a steamboat.
Rafe watched Brandy with Merrie and was impressed by her interest in the child. Most of the females he associated with had little time for children. They were more concerned with the latest fashions and gossip and thought little ones a bothersome, noisy lot. Rafe had to admit that he'd held much the same thoughts about children, too, until Jason and Merrie had come along. Now, he found their youthful honesty and exuberance far preferable to the jaded musings of the social set.
Jas
on finally ran out of questions for Ben as dessert was served. Louise appeared to claim the children as they finished off the rich concoction. When it was finally only adults at the table, it was Marc's turn to ask a question that he'd been wondering about.
"Captain Rodgers, how did you and Brandy become acquainted?"
"I'm proud to say that Brandy and her mother saved my life many years ago, and I've been indebted to them ever since." He went on to tell them the circumstances of how they'd met.
"But how did Brandy end up gambling here on the Pride? Was it your idea or hers?"
"It was mine," Brandy told him. "I approached Ben about nine months ago with the idea of letting me sail with him. He didn't think much of it at first."
Marc was surprised by the revelation and looked over at Ben. "You didn't want her? But it's such a good idea, and she certainly draws customers."
"Those were the exact arguments she used on me, but I was worried about situations like we had last night with Jackson," he explained thoughtfully. "Brandy finally managed to convince me that things would be all right, and so far, I have to agree with her. It was a great idea."
"But why would you want to gamble on a riverboat?" Marc turned to Brandy.
"My mother's health is failing, and I had to find a way to make enough money to support us. I learned how to play cards when I was young, and because Ben was my friend, I knew I would be safe on the Pride. So that's when I asked him for the chance to prove myself"
"If your mother's so sick, what aren't you with her?" Rafe cut in, wondering at her tale.
A wave of personal guilt swept over Brandy, and with it came the inevitable anger anger at herself for the situation she found herself in and anger at him for questioning her motives. How dared he so arrogantly question her decisions?
"We have no other family. This is something I have to do." With great dignity, she rose. "If you'll excuse me?
She was gone from the table before anyone could say any more. The men were barely able to get to their feet as she swept from the room, her head held high.
Ben looked over at Rafe. "I don't take kindly to anyone offending Brandy. You have no idea what her life has been like, so I recommend that you refrain from judging her. Good night, gentlemen." Ben rose and left the table.
When he had gone, Marc shot Rafe a condemning look. "I can't believe you said that to her."
"All I did was ask why she wasn't with her sick mother."
"She'd already said that she had to earn a living for them. The women we know have either fathers or husbands to take care of them. Brandy doesn't, so if she doesn't work to support them, who will?"
"Why doesn't she just get married? She could have any man she wanted," Rafe challenged.
"Maybe like somebody else I know, she doesn't want to get married," Marc shot back.
Rafe scowled.
At a table toward the back of the dining room, Lottie and Rachel Demers sat with their parents.
"Look, Rachel! I can't believe it! Rafe Marchand is on this boat!" Lottie grabbed her sister's hand under the table in her excitement.
"I can't believe it either. And here you thought you weren't going to get to see him for weeks. What do you suppose he's doing on the Pride?" Rachel responded.
"I don't know, but this must be fate bringing us together. Isn't it wonderful, Papa?" Lottie looked over at her father.
"Absolutely," James Demers said, spying the rich planter as he left the room.
"He is so wonderful, Daddy." Lottie sighed. "He danced with me at the ball the other night." The memory of being in Rafe's arms as he swirled her about the dance floor had fed her fantasies ever since.
"Lottie wants to marry him," Rachel told her parents conspiratorially.
"He would make a good son-in-law," Helene Demers said, her eyes narrowing greedily. "Bellerive is a magnificent showplace." She smiled as she imagined her daughter hostessing balls at the plantation.
"I've heard his finances are in even better shape than the plantation," James added.
"But how do I get him to propose to me, Papa? I love him. I'd do anything to be his wife."
"These things take time," he cautioned.
"Rafe can have any woman he wants. Somehow, I've got to convince him that he wants me."
"I'm sure he'll be at another ball soon, and you'll get a chance to speak to him again," her mother told her.
"I hope so." Lottie sighed, watching Rafe until he disappeared from the dining room. "But I wish there was something more I could do to encourage him."
James's mind was racing as he tried to think of ways to throw the two of them together. "Well, for a start, you and your sister could go for a walk on deck right now."
Lottie brightened at the thought of getting the chance to speak with Rafe. "We will. Come on, Rachel."
"We'll see you a little later," they said, smiling at how quickly their daughter caught on. Lottie might not be the prettiest girl in the world, but she was smart.
"What do you think, dear? Can we convince Rafe Marchand to marry our precious daughter?" Helene asked.
"I'm sure there's some plan we can come up with that will work. Though from what I've heard, he's in no hurry to marry."
"Perhaps there's some way we can change that...." Helene was thoughtful, her scheming mind already searching for ways to catch herself a rich son-in-law.
"Well, what do you think, Rachel?" Lottie asked as they followed Rafe and Marc at a distance down the deck. "Should I just corner him and ask him to marry me? Or should I be more subtle?"
Both girls giggled.
"Do you know what kind of competition you have for his affections? Why, Mirabelle is after him, and so is Cynthia..."
"I know, but I'm still a virgin, which Mirabelle can't claim, and I'm far richer than Cynthia. Still, I have to think of some way to make him propose. It's a long trip from one dance at a ball to the altar...."
"But if he doesn't love you..."
"Love?" she scoffed. "He doesn't have to love me now. I can make him fall in love with me later. I love him. That's all that matters. He's just got to give me the chance to prove it."
They fell silent, their minds traveling devious avenues until Rachel, the more conniving of the two, looked up. Her eyes were alight with an inner glow of excitement.
"I think I've got it!"
"What is it?"
"If Papa and Mama agree, this is what we'll do..." She quickly outlined her strategy to claim her sister the husband of her dreams. "What do you think?"
"Do you think it will work?"
"How could it fail?"
"But won't he hate me for it?"
"Maybe for a minute, but then you'll have him for your husband, so what does it matter? After a little while, he'll forget all about it, and you'll live happily ever after." Rachel sighed, thinking herself quite brilliant.
"I love it," Lottie agreed. "Do you really think I can pull it off? It's awfully daring-and dangerous, too."
"Do you want to marry Rafe?"
Lottie didn't have to think about the answer. "I can do it." Her words were firm with conviction.
The two began to plot in earnest. They needed to confide in their parents and knew it would take at least another day to set their plan in motion.
Brandy channeled her anger into her game that night and won. She bested Rafe Marchand for several good-sized pots and felt a sense of immense satisfaction when she saw a flash of annoyance in his regard. She enjoyed putting the arrogant man in his place.
The rest of the men were attentive and kind that night, paying her compliments and flirting with her constantly. She enjoyed their company, and laughed and flirted back. As she was leaving for the night, though, her gaze met Rafe's assessing one from across the room, and the guilt that had haunted her earlier returned.
Once she reached her room, Brandy sat in silence, staring down at her small portrait of her mother. Sighing, she held the picture to her heart. There was nothing she'd rather do than stay home and be
with her mother, but circumstances being what they were, she couldn't.. .not and survive. She had to work for a living and gambling on the Pride was the only way she could earn enough to make ends meet. Her mother understood that and supported her in her efforts, but that didn't ease the guilt Brandy felt because she truly enjoyed what she did. She reveled in the challenge of a good card game, of bluffing her way out of a tight hand and of winning large pots from rich men. As Miss Brandy on the Pride, the men vied for the chance to match wits with her over their poker hands as they tried outrageously to charm her. But how many of them would even have deigned to speak to her, let alone flirt with her, had she been working as a mere maid or seamstress? Not a one, she was sure.
There was no denying the truth, for Brandy was a completely honest person especially with herself She loved gambling on the Pride. She loved dressing up in pretty dresses and being the center of attention. She loved winning, too, for it let her know that at least she was as good as they were at gambling- if nothing else. But always in the back of her mind was the image of her mother, ailing and lonely, awaiting her return.
A single tear traced down Brandy's cheek as she put the picture back on the small nightstand and went on to bed. There was no resolution to her situation.
The following day passed quietly. Brandy kept to her room except for an early morning walk about the deck. She found herself looking forward to the coming evening, and especially to facing and beating Rafe Marchand again.
For some reason, Brandy felt the need to look even more stunning than usual that night. She styled her hair up away from her face and dabbed a touch of scent at all her pulse points. The gown she wore was less revealing than others, yet even more suggestive. Of dark blue satin, it clung to her figure like a second skin, more than hinting at the lush curves beneath. She donned paste diamonds at her ears and throat to complete the ensemble. She felt daring and confident as she made her way toward the side entrance to the men's saloon.
"Good evening, gentlemen," she purred in a throaty voice as she came through the door.
The legion of men who were waiting for her responded enthusiastically to her arrival. Soon she was surrounded at her table, dealing smartly, returning their clever remarks with witticisms of her own. She felt a niggling of disappointment when there was no sign of Rafe. Forcing herself, she concentrated on the cards and her job.
