Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  Chapter 12

  Claire’s lustrous chestnut hair was parted in the center and caught up on either side to fall in curls with red ribbons. She wore a red silk dress that was cut low enough to show her soft curves. The dress had tiny sleeves trimmed in lace, leaving her slender arms bare. She looked beautiful and graceful as she came toward him.

  His gaze swept over her, and it wasn’t until she glanced at Rafe that Fortune remembered there were others present.

  “Claire, I want you to meet my brother,” he said, going to her side. “This is Rafferty. Rafe, this is my fiancée, Claire Dryden.”

  “I’m glad to meet you,” Rafe said warmly as Fortune took her arm. He caught a faint scent of lilacs and was aware of her arm in his grasp. He leaned closer to her as Chantal talked to Rafe and sat down.

  “Come sit down. You look pretty,” he added quietly, realizing he was getting a better bargain than he had expected. He had been so absorbed in thinking about her as a mother to Michael that he had given little thought to her appearance. He had known she was pretty, but tonight she was breathtaking.

  “Thank you. Chantal was so kind and thank heavens, I don’t have to wear either of my calico dresses tonight!”

  “I’ll get you lots of dresses when we get to Atlanta.”

  She glanced up at him, her full lips curving in an inviting smile. “I won’t need lots.”

  She sat on a chair and he pulled one closer to hers, aware of her at his side and wanting this fetching creature to sit where he could look at her long and leisurely.

  They talked about New Orleans and Rafe’s family and business while Fortune stole glances continually at Claire. His gaze ran over her profile, her straight nose and her small chin that could set in a defiant manner, her full lips that were soft as rose petals. She must have won Chantal’s approval; he suspected he would know if she hadn’t. He noticed her bare throat, and he wondered if she owned any jewelry, doubting that she did. He forgot about the jewelry as his gaze drifted lower over the soft swell of her bosom. He looked away, taking a sip of his drink and trying to pick up the thread of conversation that he had lost thinking about Claire.

  “Here’s where everyone is” came a cheerful, deep voice, and Fortune looked up to see Darcy stride onto the veranda. Tall and lanky, dressed in a white shirt and brown pants, Darcy shook hair back from his face as he glanced at Claire and then came toward Fortune.

  He stood up to meet Darcy, clasping his outstretched hand and pulling him close to give him a quick hug.

  “I’ve already met my nephew. He’s a handsome little devil.”

  “You say that because he looks like you!” Fortune remarked with a grin. “Lord, you’re still growing!”

  Claire looked at the two brothers, who bore a close resemblance. Darcy was a fraction taller than Fortune, more lanky and younger-looking, but his eyes were the same startling blue. Meeting the O’Briens had worried her, but after minutes with Chantal, she had relaxed. They were all warm and accepting, and the look Fortune had given her when she stepped onto the veranda had set her pulse racing. She had seen lust in men’s eyes too many times when she sang in saloons, but this had been different—surprise, approval, pleasure, all seemed part of his reaction. Perhaps he wouldn’t regret terribly this union that he was being forced into for Michael’s sake.

  And she knew she would never hold a regret. With every new discovery about him, she was more thankful for her coming nuptials. Tonight Fortune looked so handsome that it was difficult to keep from turning to stare at him. Her thoughts shifted as Fortune faced her.

  “Claire, this is our youngest brother, Darcy. Darcy, meet Claire Dryden, my fiancée.”

  Darcy gave her a broad smile as he reached down to brush her cheek with a kiss. “Welcome to the O’Brien family.”

  “Thank you. You’ve all been wonderful. Michael is enjoying himself immensely with his new cousins.”

  “Tonight the children will eat early, and we will have a quiet dinner to ourselves,” Chantal said as Darcy sat down and stretched out his legs. “This is Wednesday. Saturday we will have a wedding.”

  “Friday is when I had planned, Chantal,” Fortune said.

  Waving her hand, she wrinkled her nose at him, her eyes sparkling. “Tell him,” she said, smiling at her husband.

  Fortune glanced at his brother, who smiled blandly and shrugged. “You know Chantal. She insisted I send a telegram to Cal. And I’ve received one back. He and Sophia will take a train tomorrow. You can wait until Saturday now that we all have a chance to be together.”

  Claire looked at Fortune, who grinned good-naturedly. How different he looked! Seldom had he looked relaxed or happy when she had been traveling with him. His grin kindled a warmth in her, and along with it she felt a stab of caution. What would happen if she fell in love and her husband never returned it?

  He glanced at her. “Saturday it’ll be. All right, Claire?”

  “Of course,” she answered, surprised he had consulted her. “Chantal already has two seamstresses sewing a dress for me. I tried to talk her out of it.”

  “And I’m sure you lost,” Fortune said, smiling at Chantal.

  “Of course she lost! I love weddings, and to have a wedding party here at our house is wonderful! You should stay a week. Our friends would love to throw some parties for you.”

  Fortune smiled and shook his head. “I can’t stay a week. So Cal gets in tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and we can hear all about his railroad,” Rafe said. “He was here little over a month ago on business.”

  “Why don’t you live here in New Orleans?” Darcy asked Fortune.

  “I have plans for a business in Atlanta. I’m going to open a steel mill. You can come to work for me.”

  “No, he can’t,” Rafe said with a smile. “I need him here.”

  “Fight over me and maybe I’ll get a higher salary,” Darcy said, giving Claire a wink. Pleasure shot through her because Darcy as well as the others seemed to enclose her in the O’Brien family as much as if Fortune were wildly in love with her. She was conscious of him, aware that his hand had drifted to her upper arm, his fingers trailing back and forth casually as if he were unaware of touching her.

  She gazed out over the landscaped lawn, such a haven after their nights in the wild. A hummingbird hovered over tall pink hollyhocks, and Claire could feel the weight of her worries easing with every passing hour.

  When dinner was announced by a female servant, Fortune linked her arm in his as he laughed at something Rafe said. They moved through the parlor to the large, high-ceilinged dining room and a table set with gleaming crystal and silver. She was seated at Rafferty’s right, across the table from Fortune.

  A servant tugged on the rope of a punkah that sent a refreshing breeze across the room. Rafe carved a golden turkey, and as they ate it with dressing, golden yams cooked in brown sugar, and fried okra, Claire was dazzled by the O’Briens, astounded that she was marrying into this warm, close family and that Michael was a part of all this.

  For a moment she felt a strange surge of discomfort when she thought about how long she had kept Michael from knowing his family. She glanced uncomfortably at Fortune, who was laughing, his white teeth showing. He looked at her and she blinked, disconcerted that he might be able to guess what she had been thinking.

  “And how’s your friend Alaric?” Chantal asked. “He’ll be disappointed he wasn’t here for your wedding.”

  With another flash of white teeth, Fortune grinned. “My friend Alaric is in for a surprise.” His gaze shifted to Claire. “I never expected when I left Atlanta to return with a wife. I’ll send him a telegram.”

  “Nor did I expect to wed within the month I left Natchez. Or to find I’ll be part of a family like this,” Claire added quietly.

  “We’ll have to show you New Orleans,” Rafe said.

  “I am going to try to talk you into staying longer. Our friends would have parties—we could spend a day at Belle Destin, my father’s home,�
�� Chantal explained to Claire.

  “We can’t stay that long. The parties will come with our next visit,” Fortune said, flashing another smile at Claire.

  Warmth filling her, she felt compelled to smile in return. He was relaxed, revealing a charming side that she had seen little of in their travels. Would he be this way when they left his family and returned to Atlanta?

  They returned to the veranda, and in the leisurely late hours of evening they sat in the dark. The men’s voices were deep, occasionally bursting into laughter as they talked about Ireland.

  With a rustle of her skirts Chantal stood up. “I’ll leave you now. Do what you want, Claire. When Ireland becomes the subject, these three can talk until the rooster crows.”

  “I’ll join you,” Claire said, glancing at Fortune, who was watching her.

  As they walked through the house, Claire felt a rush of gratitude toward Chantal. At the top of the stairs, she turned and placed her hand lightly on Chantal’s arm. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me today.”

  “I’m happy to do it. Michael is precious, and I’m glad you’re marrying Fortune.”

  “He asked me because of Michael,” Claire said shyly, feeling as if she were coming into the family on false pretenses.

  “Fortune is a fine man. He’ll be good to you.”

  Claire drew a deep breath. “We’re caught in this because I love Michael, and he does too and neither of us can give him up.”

  “You shouldn’t have to give him up. You’re so pretty. You’ve never been in love?”

  Claire looked into Chantal’s dark eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know much about men. Or to be more truthful, I haven’t wanted anything to do with the men I’ve known.”

  “Fortune is different. I will pray love comes to both of you, because it should. You and Fortune should have a good marriage. He suffered terribly over Marilee, and thank heavens, he has found Michael and you.” Chantal gave her a quick hug. “Give him time. Love should come.”

  Startled by Chantal’s statement, Claire smiled, but in her heart she was unable to imagine that love would ever come.

  “Good night, Chantal.” Claire turned to go to her room and closed the door behind her. For the first time since she had run away, she had a room to herself. She walked around it, touching the fine furniture, thinking how lucky she and Michael were that Fortune had found them. Claire gazed out the window at the bright silvery moon while she wondered about Trevor Wenger. How much trouble would he cause them when they reached Atlanta? With Michael having a mother and father, she didn’t see how he could continue to try to get Michael back. She remembered Fortune’s back: “… he wanted to kill me …”

  A cold whisper of worry came for a moment. If something happened to Fortune—she brushed away the worry. He was going to be a solid shield for Michael and her, and he would provide for them.

  She turned to look at herself in the mirror, touching the red silk dress that was so beautiful. Chantal had taken up the waist and the dress was slightly short, but not enough to detract or look unfashionable. Instead of seeing her image, she saw Fortune’s expression, remembering when he had turned to greet her on the veranda. If only she could bring that look to his eyes again! There had been no doubt of his approval. His image danced in her mind, his sparkling blue eyes and rugged, handsome features. Her gaze shifted to look at her reflection.

  She leaned forward, staring at herself. “Are you falling in love with this man who will never love anyone except Marilee?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t think she was, but she was drawn to him, she had to admit. And the more she was with him, the stronger the attraction became. She shook her head again. “Beware, because Fortune O’Brien lost his heart long ago and now he will take yours.”

  She wrinkled her nose, thinking how Chantal had made a face at him. With a smile she reached up to unfasten the tiny row of buttons on the red silk, taking care in pulling them apart. She thought about his question about the physical part of their marriage, and she felt a rush of excitement, though tinged with uncertainty. The thought of yielding to his lovemaking made her tingle, yet if he wanted only to satisfy his lust she didn’t want that.

  Maybe the day would come when they were both more familiar with each other and she would feel differently. She undressed, thoughts returning to the evening, the friendship of the brothers. When she was dressed in a batiste nightgown with its dainty lace and ruffles, she brushed her hair and looked at her image in the mirror again, so pleased with the transformation Chantal had wrought, hoping while she was here she could learn to fix her hair in a more becoming fashion.

  She stepped upon a footstool and climbed into a high rosewood feather bed, relishing the comfort of it. She felt a strange pang of loss that Fortune would not be beside her in it, then was startled that she had grown accustomed to their nights together.

  The next day, she was busy with Chantal and the seamstress until the afternoon. Then she sat on the back veranda watching Michael run with Daniella, Jared trailing behind on chubby legs.

  “He likes it here” came a deep voice, and Fortune appeared, walking up to drape his hand casually on her shoulder.

  “He is gloriously happy, and he plays like a six-year-old child should. So much of the time I had to treat him like an adult, and he was only with me or other women I worked with. This is good for him.”

  “We’re going to the train station to meet Cal. Want to come along?”

  Surprised that he bothered to ask her, she stood up. “Yes, I’d like to.”

  He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders, his gaze sweeping over the pink muslin dress she wore. “Thank God, Chantal has lots of dresses.”

  Claire smiled. “I know you were tired of seeing my poor blue calico, but I’ll have to go back to wearing it when we leave here.”

  “I doubt that. By the way, I didn’t have a chance to tell you last night with everyone around, but you looked beautiful, Claire.”

  She gazed up into his blue eyes, wondering what he felt for her. To her relief, all signs of anger seemed to be gone. “Thank you,” she said, feeling a rush of warmth from his compliment.

  He moved away. “We’re about ready to go.”

  She went inside, going with him to the buggy where Rafe and Darcy waited. Chantal stood alongside in a bright pink organza dress, looking cool and fresh, as if the steamy afternoon could not affect her. Fortune helped Claire into the backseat and climbed up beside her.

  “I’ll see you here,” Chantal said, waving at them as they started down the drive. While Rafferty drove, Claire was aware of Fortune’s shoulder touching hers, of her skirt billowing over his long legs. They drove into the Vieux Carré with its wrought-iron balconies and wide shutters on narrow brick houses set only a few feet from the street.

  “Darcy’s bringing a wagon from work, and we’ll meet him at the station,” Rafe said. “I know there will be at least one trunk to haul home. If Sophia travels like Chantal, we’ll fill the wagon with baggage,” he said good-naturedly.

  At the station Darcy joined them, and they stood with others on the platform, the smell of iron and coal in the air. Claire imagined Caleb would be another tall, black-haired, handsome O’Brien. With the engine roaring and a long hiss of steam as the train charged into the station and slowed, the platform shook. Then as the O’Briens moved forward, she waited, watching passengers alight. A man swung down and both brothers headed toward him.

  This brother didn’t resemble the others at all. Shorter than his brothers, Caleb O’Brien was thicker through the shoulders, his hair a mat of curly brown locks instead of black like theirs. His skin was a deep brown.

  He turned to assist a beautiful golden-haired woman, taking her by the waist and swinging her off the train steps to the platform. She laughed and held her hat as Rafferty and then Fortune hugged her. She turned to Darcy to give him a squeeze.

  They all came toward Claire, and Fortune stepped forward, his arm circling her
waist. “Claire, meet the last brother, Caleb, and his wife, Sophia. This is Claire Dryden, my fiancée.”

  “Welcome to the O’Brien family,” Caleb said, stepping forward to give her a light hug while Sophia smiled at her.

  “Let’s go home where we can talk,” Rafe said, picking up a satchel.

  “We have to get our trunks. You don’t think that’s all Sophia packed,” Caleb said with a smile.

  “They should see how you travel,” Fortune said lightly under his breath to her.

  Before Claire could reply, he linked her arm with his and took Sophia’s hand to head toward the buggy. “They’ll get the porter to bring the trunk,” he said. “Come on, Sophia. Tell us all the Memphis news.”

  “Memphis is still growing. So many people are coming through there now headed west. Have you ever been to Memphis, Miss Dryden?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Claire answered, suddenly feeling wary, hoping she didn’t have to explain her past too much. And what would happen if they ever found out she had sung in saloons?

  “Then you’ll have to come to visit us soon, Fortune, and let us show Memphis to her.”

  “That’s nice, Sophia. How’s your brother’s paper?”

  “It’s steady. It doesn’t have a big circulation, but John is changing as time goes by, and the paper reflects his attitudes. I suppose Cal has been an influence because John isn’t as adamant against railroads as he once was. He’s not even as opposed to whiskey.”

  “That’s the O’Brien influence,” Fortune said with a grin, and she laughed. He helped her into the front seat of the buggy, and turned to help Claire in back, where he climbed in to sit beside her again.

  As they rode home, Claire sat quietly, listening to talk about Memphis and Caleb’s railroad, aware of Fortune’s long arm around her.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon upstairs with Sophia and Chantal, and she found Sophia just as warm and welcoming, if quieter, than her sister-in-law. That night at the long dinner table, Claire looked at the O’Briens and felt a pang. It was clear that both Rafferty and Caleb were deeply in love with their wives. She looked down at her plate, her appetite suddenly gone because she knew hers was a marriage of convenience. Don’t expect love and you won’t be hurt. But she felt a longing for something more.