Children of Destiny Books 4-6 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 10)

by Ann Major

Was she really tempted to risk all by loving him again? Was she?

  Chapter Eight

  Instead of Louis’s dogwood blossoms, Noelle saw again the fragile white orchids that had adorned the Martins’ house in the Garden District the night of the ball two years ago. Her memory of the lavish party was as vivid as though it had occurred yesterday.

  Noelle was back in New Orleans for her first Carnival in seven years. She had been away at school. After that she’d studied at Christie’s and worked in New York to learn about the antique business. In reality she’d spent seven years running....

  No. I was becoming my own person.

  The newspapers had proclaimed Noelle the most beautiful Mardi Gras queen of the season, the dazzling queen of Papa’s prestigious krewe. Eva was the queen of another but equally prestigious krewe.

  Every night Noelle had worn a different evening gown. A dozen men were in love with her, but she had halfheartedly promised herself to Beaumont Vincent only because he was rich and handsome and Papa and Grand-mère had approved. Still, every night Noelle recklessly allowed more than a dozen suitors to court her, creating a whirlwind of excitement wherever she went.

  For herself, she was oblivious to the furor she was causing at the parades and balls, oblivious to Beaumont’s growing jealousies, indifferent to everything and every man until that night when Papa had thrown that one ball in honor of her in their home. Because of a rash of jewel burglaries, and the rumor that the thief had a particularly vicious personality, Papa had hired two off-duty, plainclothes detectives to protect his home and wealthy guests.

  Noelle had been wearing a white beaded gown Mama had found in Paris and Mama’s diamonds at her throat and wrists. The gown was tight and the necklace and bracelets unbearably heavy, because Noelle had always been too much of a tomboy to ever dress up as easily as other girls. A crown of pale orchids gleamed softly in her hair. She was chattering and casting quick glances at all her admirers every time Beaumont looked away. Raoul Girouard, one of the few single men not caught in her spell, had been courting Eva, much to Grand-mère’s, dismay.

  Noelle was breathless from dancing, and yet filled with that unbearable restlessness that had been a problem since she’d been forced to give up her first love, Garret Cagan.

  Noelle didn’t feel like dancing. She never did. She felt hemmed in by propriety and by all the unspoken rules governing Carnival royalty. And by her family’s deeply-felt expectations. On a whim, Noelle had sent Beaumont to get champagne so she could flirt with Armand. Not that she was interested in Armand, or in any young man at the party.

  Sensing that someone was watching her, her eyes lifted and met a swarthy man’s brooding black gaze.

  In an instant Armand’s face blurred. Into sharper focus came the dark, reckless violence of the hard features of the man standing apart in the shadows at the far edge of the ballroom.

  A shock of recognition sizzled through her, killing her smile. Biting her lips, she whispered the name that had once been so infinitely precious to her. “Garret…”

  How could Garret Cagan—the man she’d loved so desperately, the man her father had paid off to be rid of, how could he be here?

  No... It couldn’t be. She had to be imagining him, conjuring him, as she still did in her dreams.

  Her tight dress bit into her ribs. Feeling faint, she swayed forward.

  “Is something wrong, Noelle?” Armand whispered, steadying her.

  Her throat was as dry as dust. “A glass of water...anything,” she rasped. “Please…”

  She hardly noticed when Armand pressed her arm and then vanished. Her entire attention was on the other man.

  “Garret...” She whispered his name again, this time with more certainty.

  He was no longer the gentle, unsure young boy she’d loved with all her heart, but a man, almost a stranger, a man who was harder and tougher than any she had ever known. As she stared into his harsh, set face, she saw herself as he saw her—a frivolous and terribly silly flirt. She went rigid with shame…and guilt.

  It had been seven years since she’d seen him. Seven years since she’d been sent away to forget him on the pretext of finishing her schooling—first to a private high school and then to college and New York. Seven years since he’d been paid off. Five years since Grand-mère had told her triumphantly that he’d married, that he’d forgotten her.

  Grand-mère had also told her when he’d had a child. [JO37]But it was Mama who’d told Noelle that his wife had been killed and that he’d been paralyzed with guilt by the tragedy.

  What was he doing here—tonight? There could be only one answer—he had to be one of the plainclothes detectives. But why would he work for the Martins—if only for a night—when she knew he hated them for paying him off and kicking him out?

  She realized she should stop looking at Garret, but his dark gaze compelled her. For seven years she had been running from the emotion in her heart that he alone had aroused.

  The tuxedo he wore gave him a cultured look. Not that his elegant attire could conceal the power of his heavily muscled body, nor mute the chiseled edges of his sun-darkened features. His face was harder and indefinably more dangerous than those of her wealthy suitors. The knowledge in his gaze told her he understood her in a primitive man-woman way. A wave of heat rushed through her. Was he remembering their glimmering afternoons of young love as well as their dark nights of passion?

  She had to quit looking at him; had to stop the memories that stirred her pulse. Garret could never fit into her staid and proper world, even if he wanted to.

  She was a woman, no longer a young, impressionable, reckless girl he could easily seduce. She knew him, knew herself better now. He’d taken money from her father; he’d allowed himself to be bought off. He was hardly a romantic figure. She had to get a grip.

  Desperately she tried to reassure herself that there was no way he could threaten her and the future her family wanted for her. She’d had seven years to forget him, hadn’t she? Seven years to learn her lesson.

  He lifted his champagne glass in her direction in a mock toast. In an instant her self-confidence evaporated, and her heart began to pound rabbit-fast. More hot blood rushed through her. Although his glass touched his lips, he did not sip. But his gesture mobilized her.

  She wanted to run. Instead she lifted her beaded gown and walked slowly from the room, then down the white marble hall, past glittering, chattering guests, through the tall French doors, out into the icy moonlit darkness of the garden.

  Away from Garret, and the danger of all that he could make her remember.

  The semitropical vegetation was lush and concealing, but before she could hide, rough callused fingers grabbed her elbow and spun her around. At Garret’s touch, she began to tremble.

  In the cold moonlight, the wedding ring he still wore on his left hand glittered.

  She sucked in a breath. So it was true. He couldn’t get over the death of his wife.

  Mon Dieu[JO38]. In that moment, Noelle knew that she had never gotten over him, that maybe she never would.

  “Scared, chere?” Garret smiled, his beautiful white dangerous smile.

  She backed away from him until her bare back touched a cold brick pillar. “No. I just needed some air.”

  His black eyes laughed at her. “Liar. You’re breathless.”

  She managed a stiff smile.

  He chuckled softly. “Because of me, no?”

  “No!”

  He edged even closer, flicked her diamond necklace with his fingertip so that it sparkled in the moonlight. She felt the warmth of that finger in the marrow of her soul.

  “I—I can’t believe Papa hired you.”

  “He didn’t. I talked a friend into letting me substitute for him. I’ve been reading about you in the papers. How you waited to come out because you didn’t want to be a Carnival queen until your sister came out and was one as well. I wanted to see you again.”

  “You took money and promised not to see
me again.”

  He frowned. “I was tempted to take it, yes.” When his large hands spanned the back of her waist, the muscles in her stomach contracted sharply.

  Oh, my God. His fingertips were like fire. “You always were...pushy.”

  He shrugged. “Ambitious. Is that so wrong?”

  She remembered her father’s cold assessment. “Cagan’s a gold digger. Pure and simple. He’s on his way up. I won’t have the son of my cook use my daughter as the first rung in his ladder.”

  “And you always were a shallow little heartbreaking flirt,” he said. “Maybe you haven’t changed any more than I have.”

  Hoping he wouldn’t see how deeply his barb cut her, she stared past him into the darkness of the garden. “Perhaps,” she said with feigned lightness, “I flirt because I cannot have the man I want. Perhaps he disappointed me.”

  “Tell me,” Garret demanded, “did you ever wonder what happened to me...after that night when your father kicked me out? Or did you just go merrily on? You probably had a new boyfriend within a week at your fancy school. Vincent, possibly? Like I said, you were always a flirt, yes?”

  “No.”

  “All I know is that I never heard from you again,” Garret said coldly.

  “You married...”

  “Not for two years, chere. Not till I knew for sure you weren’t ever coming back.”

  “Why would I come back when Papa told me you took money to stay away from me? He said the only reason—”

  “That’s a lie!” The grooves on either side of Garret’s mouth deepened into an expression of cynicism. “I never took his money. Maybe I was stupid, but I refused.”

  “Then where did the money for Mannie’s come from?”

  “It was a secret loan—from your mother to mine—but later. Every penny of which we repaid—with interest.”

  “But Papa said—”

  “Do you think I give a damn what he said? He would have said anything to keep us apart. Ask Bibi, if you don’t believe me.”

  For a long moment, silence stretched between them, a silence that was as thin and tight as her nerves. Garret was the first to look away, his dark face filled with contempt.

  Was he telling the truth? Had her father lied?

  Suddenly she knew he was speaking the truth. And just as suddenly she had to know the whole truth.

  “So what did happen to you after...” Noelle hesitated.

  “After your father found us together and fired both my mother and me on the spot?” His dark eyes bored holes into her. “It wasn’t fun,” Garret said with deadly softness. “We were fired by the only employer we’d ever had and given no references. He offered me money, but I thought the price I’d pay was too high. You see, I had some peculiar Southern notion about honor. Because I refused, there was a time when I didn’t know if we’d make it.”

  “Mon Dieu. I never thought...”

  “No, you were busy flirting, wearing beautiful clothes—”

  “I thought I had to forget you...”

  “I had to quit college. Mama was too sick with shame and worry to hold a job. We went to New Orleans, lived in the lowest tenements. I worked odd jobs. Pumped gas, waited tables. I cooked. Finally I scraped up enough money to finish school and help Mama open the restaurant. It was just a tiny hole-in-the-wall in a bad neighborhood at first. But we developed the reputation for good food. Your mother, who felt bad about what happened to us, came by to see my mother and her restaurant, and the two of them worked out a loan. We couldn’t hire help.

  I had to work at my job and at the restaurant. Then I met Annie. She was sweet. We had Louis. Things got better for a while. But because of me, that dear angel died.”

  His voice broke, and he shuddered, unable to go on. “Damn. I still can’t talk about her.” He turned away, as if ashamed of letting her see his raw pain. “Well, I’ve seen you. You can go back to your damn party.”

  Through the French windows beneath the dazzle of the chandeliers the guests were waltzing. Beaumont would be looking for her. And Armand. She didn’t care. All that seemed another world.

  Her world had suddenly become a dangerous, tall, dark man who’d turned his back on her, a man whose voice and eyes held nothing but contempt for her. A man whose sorrow she felt as if it were her own. Being with him seemed vitally important as nothing had since they’d been parted.

  Slowly she moved closer, circling his waist with her hands, laying her head gently against his broad back. Although he tensed, he didn’t shove her away.

  “Don’t go. Not yet. Garret, I never forgot you. And I was so sorry for you when your wife died.” Noelle felt his great body flinch. “You deserved to be happy. I wanted you to be.”

  “It was because of me, because of my work as a cop that she was killed.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know.” His deep voice was hoarse and tortured with self-loathing.

  “I do. When I heard about it, I talked to a lot of people. I wanted to go to you, but—”

  He whirled.

  Her blood ran cold at the sight of his harsh pain-glazed face. At the pure agony in his eyes, eyes that held the most terrible loneliness. It was as if his guilt and sorrow were hers.

  Instinctively she knew that he had locked his grief inside him, that he had sought comfort from no one.

  And she knew what that was like—losing someone you desperately wanted, not being able to cope and having no one to turn to. Hadn’t she once been a lonely girl, sent away to boarding school because she loved the wrong man? How many lonely nights had she cried herself to sleep? How many lonely nights had there been no one to hold her, to comfort her, to feel sorry for her loss? Then she had learned that he had married. What a blow to her heart that had been.

  Yes, she had flirted. Madly…because of her visceral grief over the loss of the one man she’d still loved. Her feelings for him had not been a light, foolish infatuation after all.

  Yes, there had been many light, casual, chaste relationships—friendships really—with other men. But never once had her heart been involved. How could it have been—when she’d still been in love with Garret?

  Without thinking she blindly flung herself into his arms. For a moment he was stiff, unyielding, but slowly her gentleness won him to her purpose. Her fingers touched his cheek, softly, caressingly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Their bodies remembered things that their minds had commanded them to forget. She cradled his black head against her own, rocking him, stroking his hair, crooning to him.

  “It wasn’t your fault. No matter what you think. You’ve got to go on. I’m glad you came tonight. I’m sorry for what Papa and Grand-mère did to you. I’ve wanted to see you again for years and years.”

  “You knew where to find me.”

  “But... You were forbidden. And my family was so against you. They said you only wanted me because of my money…that you took money…and let me go. And…and I believed them.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said at last. “Maybe I didn’t want to believe in you.”

  He began to talk. At first she could make out nothing from the incoherent jumble of words that he muttered swiftly in a hoarse undertone. Then she caught the drift of what he was saying. He spoke of Louis, his only child, who’d seen Annie murdered. Louis wouldn’t talk. He was four and falling behind children his own age. Garret didn’t know what to do.

  After a long time, Garret became calmer. He let her go. “I don’t usually push my troubles on people. Especially not—”

  “I know.”

  “Look—”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “You’d better get back to your fancy ball. You’re the star, yes?”

  She clung to him. She never, never wanted to go back. Her glittery world seemed shallow and unappealing.

  Suddenly a tall blond man came to the door and looked out into the garden. Beaumont stepped onto the terrace and called her name. “Noelle.”


  Noelle shrank more deeply into the shadows, pulling Garret with her, holding on to him tightly, and sealing his lips with a fingertip.

  Garret’s expression lost some of its grimness. Beaumont yelled again, and when Noelle ignored him, Garret smiled at her conspiratorially.

  At last Beaumont gave up and went inside.

  “Vincent hasn’t changed.”

  “No.”

  “You’re still leading him a merry chase, as well as every other eligible bachelor in the parish.”

  She savored the thrill of Garret’s hard body molded against hers. “Because I don’t want to be caught—by any of them.”

  Seconds passed in a taut silence. “At least not yet,” Garret said in a low, cynical tone.

  “Not tonight,” she agreed. She held Garret fiercely. “Not now.”

  His black eyes studied her. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want to play hide-and-seek with you again.”

  Releasing her abruptly, he stepped away.

  She remembered sunlit afternoons in a garden with green, shimmering leaves. She had run away from the house, from Beau and Eva to find Garret. Noelle had chased him shamelessly, darting from behind pale columns, hidden from him, been found by him, been held breathlessly close against his male body for tingling moments before he released her. Beau had screamed from the veranda for her to come back, but he was too terrified of snakes to follow her.

  “That’s the game that started all the trouble,” Garret murmured dryly.

  “If you call it trouble.”

  He laughed softly. “I do. And your family would certainly agree.”

  She felt even more magically attracted to him than she had as a girl. He was still every bit as dangerous, every bit as forbidden.

  This was not a casual flirtation—casually indulged in, casually abandoned.

  “Do you have a car?” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I don’t feel like small talk. I want you to take me away. Somewhere...less complicated...than all this.”

  “If I take you anywhere, things will become infinitely more complicated.”

  “I don’t care.”