The Lady's Hand

by Bobbi Smith

  Jason turned red and looked uncomfortable. Merrie eyed Claire with interest.

  "You knew my mama?"

  "Yes, we were friends when we were growing up." Claire found herself bending down to talk to the little girl. "If you like, I'll tell you all kinds of stories about the adventures your mother and I had when we were little."

  Merrie was beaming at her. "I'd like that."

  "What about you, Jason?" Claire's eyes were twinkling with mischief as she spoke to the sturdy, handsome little boy who was trying so hard to look manly. "Shall I tell you about the time your mother and I decided to have a mud fight in her backyard and how mad your grandmother was when she saw us?"

  Jason's eyes rounded. "My mama did that?"

  "Oh, yes," Claire said with conviction.

  "My mama was fun, wasn't she, Miss Claire?" Merrie said with a giggle.

  "Your mother was a lot of fun," Claire told her, her heart warming to Jennette's most precious legacy. They were so beautiful and so much like her. She smiled as she looked back at Marc. "So you've all come to see Rafe get married, have you?"

  "Oh, yes," Merrie said in a very adult way. "Uncle Rafe is going to be very happy married to Brandy. I just know it."

  "I think so, too," Claire agreed with her.

  They heard footsteps echoing in the silent church, and Father Finn entered with a veiled vision in white that Rafe knew was Brandy. He could only stare, his gaze feasting upon her as she moved with the priest to stand at the front of the chapel. She looked so beautiful that he felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. She seemed to float, not walk. She was the very essence of femininity-exquisite and enchanting-and Rafe was enthralled.

  "Rafe, if you will join us here," Father Finn directed.

  Rafe wouldn't have moved if the priest hadn't spoken to him. When he did, he went quickly to stand at Brandy's side.

  "If you're ready, we can begin."

  At their silent assent, he began the ceremony, intoning the vows before God that bonded them together in His eyes.

  Brandy listened intently to all that Father Finn was saying. She knew this was a farce, but she couldn't run now. She would go through with it and pray that she could find a way out.

  Casting a sidelong glance at Rafe, Brandy couldn't help noticing how very handsome he looked. Her heartbeat had quickened when she'd entered the chapel and seen him standing there. He'd looked so tall and powerful. She'd remembered the heat of his embrace and just thinking of it had set her pulse to racing. Tonight was her wedding night. Tonight, she would not have to stop him. Tonight, they would be man and wife, in the eyes of God.

  Rafe was listening to every word Father Finn was saying. He was getting married. It was hard to believe. He'd never wanted a wife, never wanted to open himself to the pain that that kind of relationship could bring, but what he'd arranged with Brandy wouldn't be like what his father and mother had had. This would be different. He was attracted to her, and that was good. She was a lovely woman. He would suffer no hardship taking her to his bed, and when the time came for her to go, he would feel no pain, for they had no emotional commitment to one another. They each knew what to expect, and they had agreed to the terms. It was a means to an end, a marriage of convenience for both of them. They each were getting what they wanted out of the relationship.

  "Do you, Brandy O'Neill, take this man, Rafael Marchand, to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, 'til death do you part?"

  "I do," she said in a voice just above a whisper.

  "And you, Rafael Marchand. Do you take this woman, Brandy O'Neill, to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, 'til death do you part?"

  "I do." His voice was deep and steady.

  "Do you have the ring?"

  Rafe slipped the band onto Brandy's finger.

  "By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder," Father Finn concluded. "You may kiss your bride."

  Rafe turned slowly to Brandy and lifted her veil. He gazed down at her, seeing the question in her eyes. With infinite tenderness, he kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, a gentle kiss, but when he drew back, a flame shone in his eyes that hinted at the passion of the night to come.

  Brandy was looking up at him, not sure what to expect. She saw a glow of desire in the depths of his gaze, and an answering heat flared to life deep within her. She didn't know what the night to come would bring, but she knew she would never be the same again. She was no longer Brandy O'Neill. Now she was Brandy Marchand.

  "Thank you, Father," Rafe told the priest before turning to speak to Marc, Claire and the children. He knelt down before Merrie first. "I've married another woman, but you'll always have my heart."

  Merrie threw her arms abut his neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "That's all right, Uncle Rafe."

  He chuckled as he stood up. "I must not be as wonderful as I thought. She's fallen out of love with me already."

  "Women are fickle; what can I say?" Marc said wryly, then he turned to Brandy and kissed her cheek. "Brandy, you look positively radiant tonight. May you always be as happy as you are at this moment."

  "Thank you, Marc. Thank you for everything."

  "Oh, Brandy, the ceremony was lovely," Claire said, hugging her. "You should have everything you need at the hotel when you get back there. And tomorrow, the steamship leaves at three in the afternoon, so I'll meet you on board. How's that?"

  "That'll be wonderful. You know Marc is returning to Natchez with us tomorrow, too?"

  "He is?" Claire looked over at Marc, unaware that for the briefest of moments everything that she felt for him was revealed in her expression. "I didn't know that."

  "We'll all be making the trip together." Brandy saw the look in Claire's eyes and wondered at it.

  "That'll be nice. It will be fun spending time with the children. I think you're going to be a little too busy with your husband to spend much time with me."

  Brandy blushed at her words, and Claire gave a soft laugh.

  "I wish you so much happiness."

  "Shall we go, Mrs. Marchand?" Rafe asked, turning to her.

  Brandy wanted to say no, she didn't want to go with him. She wanted to go home to her mother. She wanted the safety and security of being Brandy O'Neill, not the uncertainty of being Brandy Marchand. But it was too late.

  She had made her bed, and now she would have to sleep in it. And from the look she'd seen in his eye, she doubted there would be much sleeping tonight.

  They thanked Father Finn again and then left in the waiting carriage.

  Once they'd gone, Marc turned to Claire. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

  "Why, thank you." She was completely taken aback by his unexpected invitation, but was not about to pass it up. "I'd love to."

  "Oh, goody!" Merrie said eagerly. "You can tell us more stories about Mama."

  "It would be my pleasure," Claire said. But even as she said it, she was saddened by the knowledge that Marc hadn't asked her because he wanted to be with her. He'd invited her along to talk about Jennette.

  She stifled a sigh and fixed her sights on her goal. She'd taken this job on a wild whim, and she was going to see it through. If she had to talk about Jennette in order to have time with Marc, so be it.

  Father Finn had been talking to the children, and when Marc came to him, he looked up and smiled.

  "You've done a wonderful job with them. They're lovely children."

  "Thanks. Would you like to go to dinner with us?"

  "I'd love to, but I can't tonight. Please let me know how you're doing."

  "I will. Thanks, Father."

  As they left the church, Marc took Claire's arm to escort her down the steps. When she smiled up at him to thank him for his thoughtfulness, he was struck again by the change in her. She looked so pretty that he was having a hard time reconciling this woman with the one he'd interviewed just the
week before.

  "I still can't get over the change in you."

  "Well, I'm just glad you approve."

  "I more than approve. You're stunning."

  "Stunning? I'd hardly call myself stunning, but it did take a lot of nerve. Brandy encouraged me, and looking back now, I think she was right."

  "She was very right. She's been as good an influence on you as you've been on her."

  "Not only that, she's taught me something else I never knew."

  "What's that?" He looked puzzled.

  "She's taught me how to play poker."

  Marc threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh of pure delight. "Brandy is one special young woman. I hope she and Rafe live happily ever after."

  "I do, too," Claire agreed as Marc handed her up into the carriage, and as she settled in, she added a second wish for herself. She hoped that she would live happily ever after, too.

  Rafe opened the door to the suite of rooms he'd taken for the night.

  "I hope you approve of this suite," he said as he swept her up into his arms and carried her inside.

  "Oh!" she said as she clung to him. His gesture surprised her, and she was blushing as he set her on her feet. "This is beautiful," she remarked, gazing around the luxurious sitting room. Lush and wellappointed, it was the picture of elegant living.

  "I've ordered dinner for us. I didn't know if you'd had time to eat before the wedding."

  "Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you." Brandy was nervous. There was no denying it. Claire was not hovering nearby to protect her virtue, for she was a married woman now. She no longer needed a chaperone. She was completely alone with her husband, and, tonight, there would be no interruptions.

  "Would you like to change?" Rafe asked as he slipped out of his coat. "I directed the bellman to put your things in the bedroom when they were delivered, so everything you need should be in there."

  There was something so intimate about watching him shrug out of his coat in such a casual motion that Brandy had to put some distance between them. She moved across the room toward the connecting door to peek inside the room. She almost gasped out loud at the bedroom they would share that night.

  The room was dominated by a huge bed; the satin spread upon it had been turned back, and huge fluffy pillows lined the headboard. A table had been set up in the middle of the room and was covered with a fine linen tablecloth and set with china, silver and crystal for the meal. There was a smaller room off to one side, and as she ventured closer, she could see that it was a good-sized dressing room complete with a bathtub. She had known the Pride was fancy, but these were by far the richest surroundings she'd ever been in.

  "Rafe, this is magnificent."

  "There's nothing too good for my bride," Rafe said as he came up behind her.

  Brandy was startled by his unexpected nearness, and she moved quickly away. "I think I will change into something more comfortable," she told him.

  "Do you need any help?" he asked.

  "No," she answered too quickly. "No, I'll be fine."

  "Just call if you need me."

  "I will."

  He sensed her nervousness and retreated to give her the time she needed to relax. He glanced back at her as he reached the doorway, then left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Only when she was sure she was alone did Brandy manage to relax a bit. She took off her veil and laid it gently on the dresser. She found her things neatly arranged in the dressing room and located what she was looking for the gown and wrapper that she had chosen for her wedding night. It was a sleek, silk negligee, deep rose in color, and she knew from trying it on at the dress shop that it clung to her every curve, revealing nothing, yet suggesting everything. She wondered now how she'd been so brazen as to pick that one. Surely there must have been something in high-necked flannel that she could have bought. She smiled wryly at the thought of what Rafe would say to a flannel-clad bride. Their deal hadn't said she had to be a temptress, but for some reason, she wanted to look her best tonight. It was her wedding night, no matter what the underlying circumstances.

  Brandy readily admitted to herself that she wasn't sure what to expect. This was a business deal, her payment of a debt of honor. She had to go through with it, yet dread filled her. She clutched the negligee in her hands, meaning to change, yet somehow she couldn't-not yet.

  All through her childhood, her mother had told her stories of how much in love she'd been with Brandy's father. Their wedding night had been simple, spent in their own small home, and yet the love between them had made the small dwelling seem a palace. Brandy longed for a love like that.

  Her gaze dropped to the gown she was holding, and she shuddered. This whole thing was demeaning, and yet there could be no forgetting that the minute he touched her, she wanted him. A light knock at the door drew her attention.

  "Yes?"

  "Brandy, our dinner is here."

  "It's all right to have them bring it in," she told him, putting the nightgown back in the dressing room.

  The door opened and the maids carried in their dinner. Silver tray after silver tray was arranged on the table along with an iced bottle of champagne before the servants disappeared. Rafe locked the door after them, then returned to the bedroom.

  "I'm sorry you didn't have time to change. Do you want to eat?"

  "Yes, please," she said eagerly, glad for the distraction. And she had to admit that she was hungry. She hadn't had a bite to eat since breakfast, and the food did smell delicious.

  Each dish was a gourmet's delight, and they enjoyed every one. Brandy sighed as they sampled the dessert - a small wedding cake he'd ordered just for the two of them.

  "Thank you," she said, lifting her gaze to his.

  "You're welcome." His voice was deep, and his eyes upon her were warm with the knowledge of what was to come now that the food was finished. "It was delicious."

  "Every bite." She knew she was sounding inane, but she could think of nothing else to do or say that would delay the inevitable any longer.

  Rafe had been watching her during the meal. Her nervousness was very apparent, and it bothered him. He'd wanted the night to be special for her. She was his wife now, and he wanted her to have all the things she'd never had before. Her nervousness was making him decidedly uncomfortable.

  "If you'll excuse me for a while, I believe I'll go downstairs for a drink in the bar."

  Brandy couldn't believe she'd gained a reprieve. She almost smiled at the news, until he stood up and came toward her. Without another word, he kissed her, a hot, passionate exchange that took her breath away.

  "I'll be back soon," he said.

  With that he was gone, and she was alone, still wearing her wedding dress.

  Rafe lingered in the bar drinking a single bourbon for as long as he could nurse it. He wanted to give her time to relax. He wanted the night to be one they would both remember. When he could delay no longer, he quit the bar and headed back up to their rooms. Surely, she'd had time enough alone.

  He entered the room using his key and found the door to the bedroom open. He walked in unannounced to find Brandy sitting at the table still clad in her wedding gown. A space had been cleared before her, and she was playing solitaire.

  "You're playing cards?" he said in amazement.

  She looked up, her eyes wide, to find him standing there. "I, um...I always play when I'm nervous. It helps me relax."

  He walked to her side and looked down at the game, studying her cards. "It looks like a lost cause. You might as well give it up."

  "I know," she said, reading double entendres in his words.

  "Here ...I have an idea..." He scooped up the cards from the table and began to shuffle. "Would you like to play for a while? The two of us?"

  "You'd like to play cards with me? Now?" She stared at him, shocked.

  "Sure. I like to play cards with you anytime, but if it will help you relax, right now would be great. I get to pick the game, though,
" he said.

  Brandy felt her confidence returning. She knew cards and gambling. She could handle this, and him. For a fleeting moment, she considered running up the betting so she could win back what she owed him. That was, until she found out what he had in mind. "What are we going to play?"

  Rafe looked up at her, his eyes alight with a wicked glow. "Poker... Strip poker."

  Brandy stared at him. "Are you serious?"

  His smile was her answer, and she was infinitely thrilled that she was still completely dressed, except for the veil. "You're on."

  Between the two of them, they managed to clear the table they'd dined on and then sat down facing each other.

  "Shall we draw to see who deals first?" Brandy asked.

  He nodded, waiting as she shuffled the deck thoroughly. She put the cards in the middle of the table and sat back as he cut the deck to choose his card. He held his up. It was a nine. With a casualness born of confidence, she cut the deck, too, and drew a jack. She smiled at him triumphantly.

  "Are you ready, Mr. Marchand?"

  "Absolutely, Mrs. Marchand. Deal the cards." His eyes were glittering as he watched her shuffle and deal.

  He picked up his first hand and was disappointed. It had nothing the least bit exciting. He threw down three and waited.

  Brandy studied her cards and couldn't prevent a smile from creeping across her face. A pair of tens. Not too shabby. She kept the one queen she had and threw down two. She dealt Rafe his cards, then her own. She was disappointed to find that she'd drawn nothing else she could use. Still, her pair looked good if he was throwing away three cards.

  "Let's see what you've got," she said, laying her pair out for him to see.

  Rafe grunted in irritation to find she'd beaten him. He threw his cards in.

  "Looks like you're the winner," he said with a smile. He'd donned his jacket before going downstairs to the bar, so he took that off first. "Let's go again. I'm ready."

  Brandy dealt smoothly. Rafe picked up his hand and this time he smiled widely. He didn't care the least bit about bluffing, and it didn't matter to him at all if he won or lost. Still, he knew it would be fun to win, and, with that in mind, he appreciated the two pair, ace high, hand she'd dealt him.