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

by Ann Major

  Because of this old lady, he had hated all the Martins. Because of her, he had never been able to trust Noelle. For years he had lived on this hatred, thrived on it. Indeed, everything he had ever achieved had been through that single emotion. Hatred had been the secret of the ambition that had driven him constantly to prove himself.

  He thought of Noelle and Louis, how Noelle had fought to change his mind about the kind of person she was. She had wanted his baby! She had wanted him! And she loved his son! But he had refused to believe in her!

  She was out there, risking her own life to save his son.

  Never had he known the depth of his love for her until that moment when he felt he might lose her forever. In that instant he knew that hatred had served its purpose in his life.

  Gradually his hard face softened and he patted Marlea’s thin arm as though he were comforting a child. Her hand closed around his, and for a long moment he stood there and let her cling.

  Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

  *

  The rain that pounded into Garret’s eyes felt as cold and sharp as slivers of sleet. Recklessly he drove the airboat through the swamp beneath the dark trees. The flat-bottomed boat left the green-black water and flew over a grassy patch. The airboat hit smooth water again with a violent thud.

  On and on he raced, through a never-ending, verdant canopy of trees, down a series of canals and dead-end waterways, into blind lakes. On and on, but always without success.

  It seemed that the whole world had become rain and wet trees and dark water, that there could be no place that was not flooded.

  If the river itself flooded, if the levees gave way...

  He would not think of that.

  As he raced along he was not conscious of the passing of time. Only of the urgency of his search. He had to find them, before it was too late.

  A log loomed out of the bayou, and Garret swerved the airboat.

  But not in time.

  The edge of the boat hit a tangle of roots and trunk. The airboat went flying again, but not in the direction Garret was steering. Instead it flipped and careened crazily toward a wall of trees. Just at the last moment before the boat hull smashed into the tree trunks, Garret was hurled free—toward the soft black muddy bank.

  Garret had heard it said that right before a man dies, his whole life passes in front of him. In those last fleeting seconds Garret thought only of Noelle. He saw her sweet face, framed by the wild red tumble of her hair. He remembered how her body had quivered beneath his hands. He’d hurt her by refusing to believe in her, to trust her. In agony Garret remembered how she’d dressed in the darkness of his room that last morning, how she’d stumbled from his house. How he’d lain there like the cold, heartless bastard he was and stubbornly refused to call her back. All these things he remembered in the flash of those last seconds.

  He had never told her he still loved her.

  He hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  If he died, she’d never know.

  His body smashed into the soft bank, but his head hit wood.

  The world went black.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Garret’s lashes fluttered. A dazzling light hurt his eyes and behind the light there was flame. The right side of his skull throbbed.

  Heaven or hell? Where was he?

  He closed his eyes again, not really caring. All he knew was that he was lying on a soft bed in a dark room.

  A tart voice broke through his dazed senses.

  “Some hero! What’s the world coming to when a helpless Southern belle has to get herself all wet and muddy and do the rescuing?”

  “Noelle?”

  Garret tried to sit up. The right side of his head felt as though it had been pounded with a brick. Movement produced pain but so did staying still. So he continued struggling until he was upright.

  “Who did you think it was?” her gently mocking voice demanded.

  He opened his eyes to the glory of her beauty. He saw the tears on her lashes. Suddenly he felt a searing joy to have found her again, to know that she must still care for him.

  “An angel or a devil—I wasn’t sure.” His voice was soft and shook with an emotion he no longer made any attempt to conceal. “But then I never am with you. Noelle... chere...my darling…I was so wrong... So...” A huge knot in his throat made it impossible for him to go on.

  “Don’t you remember anything?” she asked gravely.

  Vaguely he remembered awakening on that muddy bank and finding her there in the rain beside him. She had helped him up. Together they had struggled through the mud and palmetto fronds with him stumbling and leaning heavily upon her.

  He felt her fingertips smooth his hair from his injured temple, and he closed his eyes to save the light sweetness of that gesture. “I guess I thought I was dreaming,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve you. I—”

  “Hush... You’re in the houseboat,” she said. “The rain stopped yesterday. I radioed Grand-mère that we’re okay. She’ll send a boat as soon as she can.”

  “Yesterday?” He’d lost a whole day. “Where’s Louis?”

  “Right here, Dad.”

  Louis hopped onto the bed, jouncing the mattress ever so lightly, but every movement felt as if a knife were stabbing Garret’s temple. The sound of Louis’s voice, though, and his smile of utter joy made up for the pain.

  Garret grabbed his son and held him close. He felt the frail, slim child, plunged his callused hand through his thick golden hair. Then he pushed Louis away so that he could study his sweet smile and lovely big eyes. “Dear God, you’re okay. You’re both okay.”

  “I was coming to see Noelle, Dad, ‘cause I thought she forgot to pick me up. Only a gator slapped his tail on a log and scared me so bad I fell out of the pirogue. I broke my pole, and the wind started blowing my boat around. Noelle found me, though, and brought me here.”

  Noelle started to back away and leave them together, but Garret touched her hand. The thought of them being a family scared him, but it scared him more to think of losing either one of them.

  Gently she slipped her fingers through his and held on to him tightly. He felt a suddenly overwhelming burst of happiness as he pulled her down on top of them.

  “No...you’re not getting away that easily, chere. Never again.” Possessively he stroked her warm wrist.

  “What?”

  “I mean I want you both, forever,” he whispered huskily. “Always.”

  “Really, Dad?”

  “Be quiet, Louis, so I can ask this lady to marry me.”

  Louis’s eyes widened in astonishment. But he obeyed instantly, watching his smiling father and Noelle, his slim face aglow. Then he winked at his father. “I think I’ll take my fishing pole outside for a little while.”

  “Good idea, son.”

  “When you’re done…if she says yes…can I ask her if she’ll be my new mom?”

  She nodded.

  There were tears of happiness in Noelle’s eyes again as she watched Louis disappear out the door. “Garret, I thought you’d be furious,” she said in a soft tone, as dazed and dazzled as Louis. “You told me never to see Louis again.”

  “I was wrong about that, so wrong. Louis needs you just as I need you, but I couldn’t let myself believe in you. It was my fault you left Louis in the first place two years ago. My fault because I was too jealous to listen to you. I drove you away to Australia because I believed my own doubts and an old woman’s lies. If I’d had a grain of sense I’d have followed you to the end of the world and begged you to come back to me. I’ve been a fool, chere. We lost our baby, you nearly died—because of me. I was jealous and unsure. I was thinking only of myself…instead of you.”

  “It was an accident,” she said in her gentlest tone. “An unfortunate accident.”

  “No. Everything that happened was my fault, and I made it all worse by being so hard on you. I made you endure it alone. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. Then I
kept you from Louis—to protect him I said. But that was a lie. I was afraid to admit how much I loved you. I was afraid of losing you all over again.”

  “You never lost me,” she whispered. “I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t.”

  “I[JO41] couldn’t stop loving you either.” He placed his hand on the side of her cheek, and she leaned closer and kissed him softly on the lips, moving her mouth against his with subtle seductive movements until she felt his hands tighten around her.

  “Oh, Garret,” she murmured. “You really want to marry me? You really do love me?”

  “Like I said, I’ve always loved you, chere. Since we were kids. There’s never been anyone to compare with you. Only I didn’t think you’d have me. And that made me angry…and difficult…impossible.”

  “Yes, it did.”

  He kissed her again, his lips warm and tender as they clung together.

  She pulled away and laughed shakily. “You’re sure you don’t just want someone around to match your ties?”

  “Very sure.”

  Garret touched her hair, wound his fingers through two thick coils of coppery silk. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your red hair?”

  Her smile was radiant. “Really? Do you mean it?”

  “Chere, what I want more than anything is for Louis to have a little sister who has beautiful red hair...just like yours.”

  “Oh, Garret.” Noelle melted into his arms once more.

  He caught the scent of wild roses.

  “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.” His mouth closed over hers hungrily.

  “If you don’t stop, we may end up with a whole houseful of redheads.”

  “Chere, I’m not going to stop, no. Not ever.”

  “Louis is just outside.”

  “Our child,” he whispered, lifting her hair and lacing soft warm kisses along her nape.

  “Ours?”

  “Ours.” He murmured. “Everything I possess—my heart, my soul, my son—are yours. Forever.”

  Garret wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled close to him. Outside they could hear Louis singing as he threw out a fishing line. Louis, happy at last, singing with joy like any normal kid.

  Garret’s arms tightened around Noelle. She had given him back his son.

  The air was fresh and rain scented. It was a new morning, a morning that held the promise of new life, of mingled futures that would be long and happy.

  Garret bent his head and kissed Noelle, softly at first, but soon he could no longer hold back.

  “My love,” he whispered. “My love.” It seemed to him that all his life he’d wanted her…and now finally, he had her.

  The End

  THE GOODBYE CHILD

  Ann Major

  This book is dedicated to Tara Gavin, who edited it.

  This story owes its very existence

  to her gentle, guiding hand.

  Book Description:

  When saying goodbye is impossible.

  Yesterday… Eva Martin had a weakness for bad boys.

  Eight years ago, Evangeline had walked away from her neighbor, the dangerously sensual Raoul Girouard and the passion they’d shared, to please her wealthy New Orleans family. Even after she learned of his treachery and tragic death in Africa she couldn’t stop loving him.

  Today … Eva is determined forget the past.

  When Raoul walks back into her life calling himself Nicholas Jones, he’s the last man she wants to trust with her heart. Unfortunately, he’s a high-stakes player in a deadly game of power and intrigue and his enemy is using Eva as a bargaining chip.

  When Nicholas abducts her to save her, she fights him every step of the way. But once the danger is past, can she say goodbye again to the one man she’s always loved?

  PROLOGUE

  "Mon Dieu," Eva muttered as she strained to see.

  It was raining, and the wind had dropped to nothing. When Evangeline Martin looked at her lifeless sail and then at the thick fog bank up ahead, her heart began to knock.

  White plumes were rolling over the wide Mississippi, silently blanketing everything.

  She should never have taken the boat out on a day like this. No matter how heartbroken and furious she'd felt over what Grand-mère had done.

  Less than an hour ago, her grandmother had offered her irrefutable proof that Eva's fiancé, her adoring Armand, was not twenty-two as he had claimed. Nor was he a medical student at Tulane. No, he was twenty-seven, he had a pregnant girlfriend in Baton Rouge, and a prison record. Another scoundrel who had been after Eva for her money.

  She could sure pick them. Or rather she couldn't. That was the problem.

  "You're too softhearted, chere. Too sweet and trusting," her grandmother had said consolingly.

  “Stupid.”

  "Young. You let men who need you pick you."

  But Grand-mère was wrong. Eva had chosen him because he'd seemed so proper, and she'd felt so sure her wealthy, conventional family would approve of him. She was the youngest in the family, and even though she was in college, they still treated her like a child. She wanted to do something right for once, but this was the third time she'd chosen the wrong man. The third time her family had hired a private investigator and presented her with the truth. Eva was disgusted with herself for having to be rescued by them again.

  She sipped the last of her diet cola and tossed the empty can into the cockpit. Hearing a splash, she glanced into the cockpit where the can floated beside her life preserver in a pool of water.

  The plug was gone! The cockpit was rapidly filling. Even as her heart raced faster, she told herself not to worry. The boat had flotation.

  The boom swung lazily from port to starboard and she ducked. Then the sail flapped and went still. The icy rain began to fall in sheets. The boat was dead in the shallows under the lee of the levee. At this rate she might be stuck here for hours.

  Eva shivered. She'd forgotten the pants to her foul-weather gear, and her legs were blue and peppered with goosebumps. She pulled up her yellow, waterproof hood to cover her dripping hair. She felt safer near the shore, but if she didn't steer the boat into deeper water where the current was stronger, where the trees and levee didn't block what little air there was, her sail wouldn’t fill and she'd never get home.

  Warily she nudged the tiller. She had sailed upwind against the current. Thus, she would eventually, if sluggishly drift toward the bayou and home.

  A green-and-white buoy that marked the edge of the shallows slowly slid by. When she heard the eerie sound of a foghorn somewhere downriver, she jumped. She was in deep water now, the most dangerous part of the river because of the river traffic.

  Her tiny boat glided by the von Schonburg oil docks and refinery where a huge barge was tied up. On the other side of the river, hidden behind the levee, was an alley of live oaks leading to Sweet Seclusion, the tumbledown, white-columned plantation house that belonged to Raoul Girouard.

  All her life her family had warned her against the Girouards, especially Raoul. They said the Girouards, with their long history of spawning pirates and river gamblers, had never been a proper southern family, and Raoul was the worst of a rotten bunch. Hadn’t his own father thrown him out years ago for trying to seduce his young stepmother?

  According to rumor, Raoul was a gambler, a womanizer, and a mercenary. He'd been expelled from every college he'd ever attended and had been a soldier of fortune. He'd lived in Africa like an Arab of ancient times, having taken a trek across the Sahara on a camel. When he'd finally settled down, had he chosen the proper career? No, he'd gone to work for an impoverished prince, Otto von Schonburg, and had made both himself and his royal boss filthy rich in the spot-oil business.

  A gambler's business, Grand-mère said. “I promise you, chere, no matter how high Raoul lives, his bad character will bring him to a bad end.”

  Eva had listened to these stories and warnings spellbound, never admitting that secretly the scoundrel,
who was dark and tall and excessively handsome, fascinated her.

  Eva's boat drifted into the fog bank, and she couldn't see either shore. When she heard another call from a foghorn, closer this time, she shuddered.

  Out of nowhere came the violent wash of giant props. The water around her was ominously still. She twisted her neck to see, but the mist thickened even as the roar grew louder.

  She screamed and pushed the tiller away, but the little boat had no way and remained dead in the water.

  Suddenly a sleek white wall of aluminum and steel sliced through the gray water like a torpedo. She screamed, but the big yacht stuck to its course and bore down on her.

  Only in that last second did the captain swerve, missing her smaller hull by mere inches, but his powerboat's wake caught her boat broadside and threw her to one side. Waves sloshed over the freeboard and deluged the half-filled cockpit. The boom swung across and slammed into the back of her head so hard she saw fire. Her hull jostled up and down, and she lost her grip on the tiller. Losing her balance, she slid helplessly across the slick fiberglass deck into the river.

  Hitting the cold water face first, she struggled to stay afloat, but her foul-weather jacket and the currents were sucking her under. A second wave from the powerboat swamped her.

  She clawed the water like a wildcat, but she was so weak and dazed from the blow to her head that she gagged on a mouthful of water.

  Above, the fog layer was thinning, and she could see blue sky. The powerboat was circling and coming back, its big engines cut to a purr. A tall dark man rushed to the bow and dove in.

  Her last thought was that he was too far away, that he would never reach her in time. Struggling to stay afloat and to keep her head above water even as the current dragged her under, she fought to swim toward him.