Clay’s nurse had taken the boy outside to play in the courtyard, and the windows were open to catch the slight breeze. The child’s gurgles of laughter and the pattering of his feet could be heard at intermittent intervals.
After a time, however, Danielle looked up from her cup with a frown. “I don’t hear Clay,” she said, cocking her head to listen. “I hope Zelda didn’t take him to the summerhouse. Ever since the picnic, he’s been begging to go there again. But I warned her to keep Clay close…so he wouldn’t explore.”
“We can go and check on him, if you like,” Selena offered.
But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she heard what sounded like a distant cry. Both she and Danielle froze. Selena couldn’t be sure of the direction since the parlor opened onto the courtyard and not the front of the house, but she thought the sound might have come from beyond the east wing.
When the ominous sound was followed by another muffled shout that was clearly a shriek, Selena felt dread quicken within her. Both women leaped to their feet, but Selena was two paces ahead of Danielle as they raced for the courtyard.
By that time a dozen people had appeared there to investigate the commotion, but there was no sign of Clay. They ran on, reaching the east end of the house just as his nurse burst from around the corner. Her black face was a sickly shade of gray, and she was sobbing for breath.
“Masta Clay… Masta Clay,” Zelda cried, nearly incoherent as she stumbled into Selena’s arms.
“Zelda!” Selena demanded, dread clutching at her stomach as she gripped the black woman’s wiry arms, “What happened? Where is Clay?”
“Masta Clay… he fell from the cliff.”
“Dear God, no.” The anguished moan had come from Danielle. Desperately she caught up her skirts and started running again toward the summerhouse, while Zelda kept wringing her hands and moaning, “That poor chil’, that poor chil’.”
Selena bit back the urge to follow both examples and instead shook the servant’s shoulders. “Zelda, please… tell me how badly Clay is hurt.”
Taking another gulping breath, she nodded. “I don’ know. He didn’t move… Oh, missy, I feart that poor chil’ be dead!”
Chapter Seventeen
A soft smile curved Kyle’s mouth as he left the jeweler’s shop in Natchez with his purchase. The stunning set of sapphires and diamonds had cost him a small fortune, particularly since he’d requested the order be rushed, but he considered the expense well worth it; Selena would look exquisite in the fabulous necklace with its matching earrings and bracelet.
He had thought long and hard about what to get for her. He’d never given her a gift—unless he counted the wedding band that he’d been forced to bestow on her—and he wanted badly to make it up to her. Yet his sudden generosity was more than a desire to court her properly. He would have given her the moon if he could have managed it.
The thought lent a wry twist to Kyle’s smile. He was beginning to resemble a love-struck swain. But that was precisely what he was, he reflected. And nothing he could give Selena seemed good enough—even the jewels he’d ordered the last time he was in town.
They were the best he could do, though. Tastefully designed, they exuded a quiet brilliance much like Selena herself did. Yet what if she didn’t like them? Selena rarely wore jewelry and shunned ostentatious displays… His smile fading at the possibility, Kyle slid the small parcel into his horse’s saddlebag and swung himself up in the saddle.
He had only ridden halfway down the street when a vendor selling roses caught his attention. Perhaps Selena would prefer flowers to jewels…On impulse, Kyle tossed a coin to the vendor and scooped up a bouquet, laying it across the saddle. Then he turned his horse toward Montrose and spurred the animal into a canter. He was anxious to be home. The hours without Selena had seemed like an eternity, and even though his discussions had proved worthwhile, he had begrudged every moment. Just like the endless nights he had spent away from her while he guarded Heaven’s Gate.
Never again, he vowed. He would take Selena with him when he traveled to Louisville to commission his new steamboats. Perhaps they would even make it into a wedding trip....
His mind was occupied with such pleasant thoughts when he reached Montrose that Kyle at first didn’t notice the commotion in the distance, beyond the line of cherry laurels. He was startled from his reverie when he recognized the powerfully muscled black man running toward the summerhouse, a coil of rope slung over each shoulder.
“Saul!” Kyle shouted as he spurred his horse to catch up. “What’s amiss?”
Saul was breathing hard as he grabbed the roan’s bridle, but he managed a reply. “Missy Whitfield, her boy fell from the bluff yonder.”
“Clay? It was Clay who fell?”
Saul nodded. “Zelda said he was dead, but I dunno.”
Every muscle in Kyle’s body went rigid.
“Your missus tole me to fetch some rope. She done gone with Missy Whitfield to the bluff.”
“Then come on, man!” Kyle exclaimed, reaching down to grasp Saul’s arm. Within him fear warred with cold urgency as he hauled Saul up behind him on the powerful roan. Frantically he dug in his heels, aiming the horse at the summerhouse. The bouquet of roses he’d been holding slid to the earth to be ground into the dust.
Was that movement she detected? Selena wondered as she craned her neck over the edge, trying to see through the tangle of pine and wild grapevines at the bluff’s side, peering at Clay’s small, white face. Then, unmistakably, his eyelids fluttered. She caught her breath as hope stirred inside her. “Danielle, he’s opening his eyes!”
“Thank God…”
Selena murmured her own grateful prayer as on her knees she inched closer to the edge.
The earth slide wasn’t really a bluff, nor was it very high as bluffs go, but it was a great distance to a two-year-old child. Clay had fallen about twenty feet, his descent only stopped by the exposed roots of a papaw tree. His small body appeared to be wedged in the roots, while below him there was a further twenty-foot drop into the dry bayou, which was strewn with branches and rocks.
“He moved his arm.”
“Please… Selena, do something.” The words were a sob.
“Yes, we’ll rescue him.”
One glance over her shoulder at the auburn-haired woman’s stricken face, though, told Selena she would have to take charge. Danielle was too debilitated by terror to be of any help. Worse, she appeared prepared to step off the bluff to her death in order to save her son. Forcibly Selena reached up to clutch Danielle by the arm and hold her back.
“Mama,” Clay suddenly wailed from below, trying to squirm free.
As Danielle gave a terrified sob, Selena’s grip tightened. “You can’t go down there!” she declared, her own voice shaking. “You’ll be killed. We have to wait for a rope.”
When the young child began to wail more loudly, Danielle gave Selena a look of frantic entreaty.
“Wait!” Selena urged as she climbed to her feet. She cast a desperate look around her, wishing fervently that someone would come with the rope she had called for.
Her heart leaped as she saw her husband gallop up with Saul clinging behind. “Kyle, thank God…Clay’s alive,” she told him as both men sprang down from the horse, “but he’s caught.”
“Please help him,” Danielle pleaded.
“Yes,” Kyle answered simply. He was instantly in command, Selena realized, watching as he moved swiftly to the edge of the bluff. It was the air of authority that had made him such an effective ship’s captain, the reason his men had been willing to follow him without question. Unhesitating, exuding confidence and skill… demanding and receiving instant obedience. Selena was infinitely glad to have him in charge.
Kyle took in the situation at a glance, deciding what Selena had already concluded: the limbs of the papaw tree would make rescue difficult.
“We can’t lower a rope to him,” Selena began. “Even if he could manage to put it a
round his waist, the tree—”
“I’ll have to go down for him.”
“Perhaps you could lower me…I’m lighter—”
“No, I’ll do it. I’ve been climbing ropes since I was Clay’s age.” He was already retrieving one of the coils of rope and making a small loop at the end, tying it off with a knot.
“Kyle, are you sure? Not even Saul could bear your weight.”
“No… but a half-dozen people could. Saul? I need you to form a line with everyone here to lower me down. Can you see to it?”
“Yassuh!”
“You stand at the front. Get a good grip on the rope. Don’t pay it out or you’ll end up with burns. Start back from the edge and walk forward slowly.”
Saul spun around and started pointing at the house servants who had come to watch. “You, Martha, plant yourself right there, and you, woman…”
But even as Kyle positioned himself at the edge and slipped his foot through the rope’s end loop, another problem made itself known.
“Clay!” Danielle cried. “Don’t move! You’ll fall…”
Selena knelt beside her and immediately realized the danger. Clay had managed to stand up and was trying to climb up the steep wall of dirt and vines.
“Please, darling,” Selena added her pleas to Danielle’s, trying to keep the fear from her own voice. “Be still. We’ll come down and fetch you.”
She flung a glance at Kyle. He had shed his coat and was testing the rope for tautness as he lowered himself over the edge. His tone quiet and efficient as he called up orders to Saul, he slid downward through the undergrowth toward the tree where his son clung.
Clay saw him coming and turned, arms raised, but his small foot slipped on a root and he fell, nearly tumbling to the gully floor below.
Kyle uttered a sound that might have been an oath or a prayer, while Danielle shrieked. Selena, her heart in her throat, watched helplessly as the child hit his chin on a root and burst into fresh tears. Danielle followed suit.
“Danielle!” Selena murmured frantically, thrusting the weeping woman behind her, “You’re only frightening him. Clay, please love, stay right where you are.”
I have to talk to him, Selena thought. Give Kyle time to reach him. But Kyle was being lowered with such deliberate slowness that her nerves were screaming.
“Clay, did you hear that?” Selena said desperately. “Horatio is calling to you. You must be very quiet to hear him.”
She thought the child understood her, for it seemed that his cries lessened fractionally.
“Did you hear what Horatio said, Clay? He wants you to come to tea. Of course, I think what he really would like is a picnic.” Kyle was nearly there…a yard to the right of the tree. “When you come up here, you can give him a cracker. Would you like that?” She held her breath as Clay raised his tear-streaked face to her, his attention diverted.
“Please God,” Danielle sobbed. “Just spare my son.”
“Please Kyle, just a few more feet,” Selena whispered, digging her fingers desperately into Danielle’s arm. “Beside the tree now. Please, hurry.”
Kyle made his move then. Reaching around a limb, he grabbed for Clay, wrapping a hand around a small arm, dragging his son against his chest as he clung to the rope.
The boy let out a wail, while above them Danielle buried her face in her hands.
“Thank you, God,” Selena breathed, her voice little more than a croak.
“All right, pull us up…slowly.” Holding on to the rope with one hand and to his wailing son with the other, Kyle shielded the child’s small body from the worst of the underbrush as they were slowly pulled up the bluff. They finally reached the top.
“Far enough, Saul! Here, take him,” Kyle rasped as he half pushed, half lifted Clay toward Selena.
Throwing herself to her stomach, she stretched as far as she could to reach down for him. When her fingers closed over the small arms, she pulled the whimpering child to safety and gave him to his terrified mother.
“Oh, thank God, thank God,” Danielle sobbed over and over again, clutching so desperately at Clay that she was in danger of smothering him.
Selena remained where she was on the ground, not trusting her weak knees to support her. She was panting for breath as if she’d run a great distance, and her heart still thudded in her breast.
Kyle, too, was breathing hard as he dragged himself over the edge. He scarcely gave Selena a glance as he got to his feet and drew the weeping Danielle into his embrace.
“Danielle, it’s over,” he murmured. “It’s over.” The ragged note of relief in his voice was apparent as he pressed his cheek against her hair, offering strength and comfort to the trembling woman.
Trembling herself, Selena averted her gaze. The sight was too intimate, too painful to bear… Kyle with his arms around Danielle, their son between them.
It was her worst fear confirmed.
She was almost grateful for the sound of galloping hooves, for it provided a distraction from the tormenting sight. As Orrin Chandler came charging toward them, Selena struggled wearily to her feet. Her racing heartbeat had slowed, yet the place where her heart was supposed to be located felt achingly hollow.
She watched with only vague interest as the man on horseback drew his mount to a skidding stop.
“Clay?” Orrin said at once, taking in the scene.
Kyle looked up briefly. “He’s going to be fine.”
And it was true, Selena reflected. Already Clay had ceased crying, attesting to the resilience of youth. Perhaps in a few weeks or months he wouldn’t even remember his brush with death. But unlike Clay, she wouldn’t recover… not from losing Kyle. And it seemed apparent, when Kyle spoke again, that that was indeed what had happened.
“Take Selena back to the house,” Kyle told Orrin quietly. “I’ll see to Danielle.”
The words seemed so final, communicating an unspoken message. Keep away, I protect what is mine.
Selena glanced at Orrin, wondering if he would object. But although she saw for a moment what might have been her own despair reflected in his eyes, he merely nodded.
She scarcely heard Kyle ordering Saul to bring the carriage around. When Orrin urged his horse closer, she silently accepted his assistance in mounting. But as they rode away, Selena couldn’t prevent herself one final look. Gazing over her shoulder, she saw the three of them—her husband, Danielle and Clay—framed like a painting done in rich oils. The afternoon sunlight glinting off Danielle’s vivid, dark hair, and in the backdrop, the fertile cotton fields of Montrose stretching the distance....
Couple with Child, she would call such a painting.
The image branded itself in her memory, haunting her.
The three of them belonged together, Selena thought wretchedly, misery stabbing at her. And what was more, she had no place in their lives. She had been fooling herself to think Kyle could ever return her love. He wanted his son—far more than the physical relationship she could provide him as his wife. He didn’t really need her at all. He could easily satisfy his physical needs with any one of a dozen women, as he had done before their marriage. His plantation was operating smoothly, the plans for his steamboat enterprise would be under way eventually. As for a mother for his sisters and companionship for himself, Danielle could provide that—perhaps better than she herself could.
Selena wasn’t allowed to dwell on her morose reflections, however, for she was required to explain to Orrin, who had come to accompany Danielle back to town, what had happened on the bluff. And when they arrived at the house, she was greeted by scores of tense, waiting faces, all worried over the fate of the young boy who had captured their hearts with his dimpled grin.
Selena reassured them all that Clay was safe, thanked Orrin for his help, then escaped into the house. Kyle’s sisters followed her upstairs to her room, though.
“Did Clay really fall off the bluff?” was the first question Felicity asked. “Why, he could have broken his neck.”
And so Selena had to explain again that Clay seemed to be unhurt, but that no doubt he would be examined by a doctor. Kyle was taking the child and his mother home. She stumbled over the words, her voice quavering.
Felicity seemed to think Clay’s fall a great lark, but Lydia looked pensive. Zoe, on the other hand, seemed more concerned for Selena.
“Selena, are you quite all right?” Zoe asked in her quiet voice.
“Yes,” Felicity piped up. “You look wretched.”
“I think perhaps we should leave Selena to herself,” Lydia suggested, showing an unexpected thoughtfulness and clear evidence that she was growing up.
In appreciation, Selena gave her a smile that was only slightly forced. When she was alone, she went into her dressing room and caught a glimpse of herself in the cheval glass. No wonder the girls had commented about her appearance, she thought dismally. Her sprigged muslin gown was stained with mud and grass, her chin was smudged with dirt, and her hair, which had been neatly braided and coiled on her head earlier in the day, had lost its anchoring and hung in pale wisps around her face.
But it was her expression that was most startling. Her face was drawn and weary, her eyes despairing. She looked precisely what she was: a woman facing a bleak future. A future without Kyle.
Selena’s throat tightened as she remembered the scene on the bluff. She’d come to a decision as she watched him embracing Danielle. She would free Kyle from their marriage. Indeed, that was only solution to this wretched situation. Kyle had originally wanted an annulment, and perhaps he could still obtain one, since he’d been forced to marry her. And if that was no longer possible, there were other ways he could gain his independence and therefore his son. If he asked the legislature to grant a bill of divorcement, she wouldn’t stand in his way, Selena vowed. She wouldn’t force him to stay in a marriage he had never wanted.
Resolving to tell him so when he returned, Selena wearily washed her face and then changed her gown. She was putting a final pin in her hair when she heard a timid knock on the door.
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