“Oh, my dear lady,” Steele Denegal whispered to Lilah, “I’m afraid I’m about to lose you to another’s arms. And we’re hardly well enough acquainted to become lovers yet. More’s the pity! But young Brandon appears set on his mission. Short of fending him off with my saber, I can’t think of any way to keep you for myself.”
Lilah missed a step. “Did you say Brandon?”
“Aye,” he laughed softly. “I can’t tell if your reaction is one of alarm or impatience to be out of my wicked clutches.”
Lilah managed a bantering reply. “If I must be held prisoner by a pirate, Captain Blood, I can think of no more dashing captor.”
Steele Denegal offered her a sweeping bow, kissed her hand, and said, “Until later, then, my queen,” before relinquishing her to Brandon’s waiting arms.
“The captain is a charming man,” Lilah said casually, hoping Brandon would recognize her voice.
“The ladies all seem to think so,” he answered formally.
Lilah stared up into Brandon’s eyes, savoring their sherry-brown depths, hoping he would meet her gaze and comprehend the love he read there. Despite his mask, anyone would know Brandon by his lean frame, pale complexion, and smooth, black hair.
“Did you come with some of the guests from Saint Simons or Cumberland?” he asked with maddening politeness. “I don’t remember seeing you in Savannah, ma’am.”
Casting her charade aside, Lilah pleaded, “Brandon, darling, don’t you know me?”
He looked baffled. “I’m afraid you have me at a distinct disadvantage, ma’am. Though, if we’d met before. I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgot you.”
Now, she thought. This is the perfect moment to tell him! I’ll get him to take me to the balcony so we can be alone for our reunion. It’s been so many months!
Lilah let herself go a bit faint in his arms.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked with concern.
“Some air might help. It’s so warm in here.”
Brandon glanced about and saw his father stepping to the stage, ready to make the announcement as soon as the musicians Finished this piece.
“We can’t leave the ballroom right now,” he said apologetically. “But, perhaps you’d like to sit down?”
Very well, she thought. If I must do it under the very eyes of everyone, I will.
She breathed deeply to steady her pounding pulses, then whispered, “Brandon, how could a wig fool you so completely? You of all people! I’ve waited so long for you to return to me. The things you said to me before you left.. and the things you left unsaid.”
Brandon’s feet kept up the automatic motion of dancing, but his mind spun with a kaleidoscope of memories and confused emotions.
She continued, “I realize now that you were trying to ask me to marry you before you left Rainbow Hammock. I was so upset by your leaving that I didn’t understand then. But I do now, my dearest, and I accept your proposal.”
“Oh, God!” he moaned. “Lilah!”
Misunderstanding, she snuggled more closely into his arms, but found his body as stiff as a tree trunk. Something was wrong, terribly wrong! She felt it, but she had no idea what it might be. Her heart pounded like that of a small trapped animal. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Maybe he was so enraptured by the thought of their being together at last that he couldn’t speak.
Then, finally, he did speak… terrible, hurting words: “It’s too late, Lilah. If only I had known for sure how you felt before I left. But I went to Savannah thinking you would never marry me.” He groaned in utter misery and his voice trailed off, “I wanted you so, Lilah, but now it can never be. It’s too late,” he shook his head, “too late for us.”
She stiffened and tried to fight back the tears. What did he mean, “too late”?
The answer to her silent question came almost instantly. The music stopped, and Ames Patrick called from the stage, “Brandon, Saralyn, come up here!”
Without a word, Brandon left Lilah standing stunned in the center of the dance floor. She couldn’t move. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot. As desperately as she wanted to run away and hide, she forced herself to stay and listen.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ames Patrick continued as soon as Brandon and Saralyn joined him, “Elizabeth and I have an announcement to make tonight. Our eldest, Brandon, has asked Miss Saralyn Habersham of Savannah to become the next Mrs. Patrick of Fortune’s Fancy and Rainbow Hammock. This dear young lady,” he put his hand on Saralyn’s arm, “has consented, out of love, to exile herself to our island.”
The guests all laughed with Ames, Brandon, and Saralyn. The luxurious life at Fortune’s Fancy could hardly be considered a punishing exile.
“Champagne all around,” Ames called out.
Lilah felt the room spin. A red haze filmed her vision. She knew she was going to faint but something stopped her.
“Drink this, my queen. It might help.” Steele Denegal, a saving arm about her waist, held a glass of sparkling wine to her lips. “Quite a disguise you had there. Who’d ever have guessed that underneath all that midnight you were hiding the silver of the moon and stars?”
Lilah gasped and touched her head. Her wig had slipped askew.
“I’ve got to get out of here!” she cried, trying to pull herself free from Steele’s grasp.
Too late! Elizabeth Patrick had spotted her. She boiled with rage.
Going to Blue, the underbutler, she pointed out Lilah to him and ordered, “I want that woman escorted out of here! Immediately! She is not a guest! And make sure she departs by the back door!” Her words were spoken loud enough for Lilah, Steele, and most of the guests to hear.
As Blue approached, Lilah pulled her wig and mask off and straightened perceptibly. “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Patrick,” she said with more gumption than she felt. “I know my way out! I’ve been here often enough!”
Elizabeth Patrick glared at her.
The guests, forgetting Brandon and Saralyn for the moment, began to whisper among themselves. Lilah heard one woman’s voice plainly above all the others: “Well, I should hope Elizabeth would throw that white trash out! Imagine the little ingrate trying to push herself into the family circle, and her from the bastard line! What gall!”
Steele took Lilah’s arm and bowed. “May I suggest a walk in the garden, my dear? The air in here has turned quite rank!”
Without allowing Lilah time to answer, Steele whisked her out of the ballroom, down the stairs, and through the front door.
Uncle Custer, unaware of what had transpired upstairs, looked at Lilah with appreciative eyes and said, “Why, Miss Lilah, you sure look beautiful tonight!”
“The lady thanks you, I’m sure,” Steele answered, realizing that Lilah was beyond words and very near the breaking point.
When Lilah recovered her senses, they were alone on the beach. She moaned softly and Steele closed strong, protective arms around her.
“Go ahead. Cry it out,” he ordered with gruff tenderness.
After a good quarter hour, her tears slowed to a freshet, and Steele demanded, “Now, young lady, tell me what this is all about. I seem to have stepped into the middle of some sort of nasty squabble tonight. I’m usually careful to avoid this type of thing. But then I have found myself on more than a few occasions getting involved when I feel a pretty woman is being treated shabbily.”
She couldn’t tell him everything. He was a stranger after all, and, besides, she didn’t know everything. But she had to unburden some of her hurt to someone. Perhaps better to an outsider than to her mother or her grandmother. The story of her rejection by the Patricks would only cause them pain as well.
“I don’t really know what it’s all about,” she confessed. “It seems I don’t belong anywhere any longer. I was born and raised on Rainbow Hammock, and I’ve always been welcome at Fortune’s Fancy until recently. I did disguise myself and sneak into the ball. I’ll admit that. But o
nly after Ames Patrick tried to buy my services.”
“Why, the old scoundrel!” Steele Denegal sounded truly shocked.
“Oh, not like you’re thinking,” Lilah quickly corrected the mistaken impression she’d made. “He wanted to pay me to tell fortunes tonight. He even sent me a gypsy’s costume and this wig.” Lilah found she was still clutching the mop of black hair, the white satin mask dangling from it at a crazy angle.
“Then you really weren’t invited to the ball?” he asked. “But why not? If I had a pretty neighbor like you, I’d do my best not to snub her.”
“That’s the part I don’t understand myself. I was raised with the twins and Brandon. Tonight was to be a sort of coming out party for Amalee and me, I thought. Mrs. Patrick didn’t want me there, but Ames Patrick told me he’d smoothed the way with his wife. Then I got his note and it made me furious. I know the overseer’s niece isn’t supposed to be able to hold her own in polite society, but I wanted to show them I could… that I’d been raised to do so.”
“And you did that!” Steele stated emphatically. He was glad she couldn’t see his reaction when she mentioned being the overseer’s niece. He might not be from the South, but he knew enough about their caste system to understand why a relative of the hired help would create a stir by barging in among the blue bloods of the aristocracy.
He gazed down at her tear-streaked face and her still-trembling lips. Anger didn’t explain everything. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?” He felt her tense against him at the question.
Lilah paused before she answered, fighting hard to hold back another torrent of tears. “I didn’t know about Brandon and Saralyn. Brandon and I… we had a sort of understanding, I thought… but now…”
Steele enfolded her closer in his arms and let her fresh tears soak his white satin shirt. “Ah, yes! Young Master Patrick and my sweet cousin, Saralyn. I should have guessed.” He paused a moment, considering. “But you couldn’t possibly be in love with Brandon Patrick! An aristocrat, yes, but he seems rather spineless to me. A queen’s consort should be strong and masterful!”
“Now you’re making fun of me,” Lilah sniffled.
Steele lifted her chin until he could look directly into her eyes. He answered in a softened tone, “Not at all, my sweet girl, not at all.”
He lowered his lips to brush hers. She felt a warm tingle pulse through her blood. The pressure of his lips increased, and hers went soft and pliant. Withdrawing slightly, Steele teased the corners of her mouth with his tongue. Except for Lilah’s soft sound of surrender, silence cradled them in the night.
Under Steele’s knowing caresses, Lilah relaxed. His strong fingers toyed with the lace at her bodice while his other arm held her close to his body. When Lilah sighed in response, Steele’s fingers strayed to the naked flesh above the lace. Lilah’s breasts quivered at his unexpected touch. The sensation warmed her, made her feel safe.
His voice seemed all-knowing to her. “There. You see, my dear, we’ve just laid to rest the old fable of one man for one woman for all time!” He laughed aloud, but not in a mocking fashion.
Lilah tried to slip out of his embrace, confused by the feelings he aroused in her.
“I must go! It’s late!”
“Not so late, Queen Delilah,” he said in a husky voice, refusing to release her. “The unmasking, remember? I’m sure it must be well past midnight.” He untied the black slitted strip of satin hiding his eyes and let it fall to the ground.
Lilah looked at him, feeling her confusion grow with each passing moment. How could she have loved Brandon so profoundly and still be aroused to such heights by a total stranger?
And that, he was. The only name she knew him by was Captain Blood. But somehow her woman’s instincts told her the meaning of the feelings that his encircling arms and demanding lips stirred deep within her.
She recognized the hardness of his powerful body and the constraint he enforced on it. Still, he held back… fondling her with a knowing touch… speaking softly, with caring reassurance.
“You see, no pirate captain. Only a man in need of a woman,” he whispered against her hair. Then he stepped away and bowed before her. “May I introduce myself, fair lady? Steele Denegal. Late of New York and the world. And you are?”
“A good question,” Lilah replied with an edge of bitterness in her voice. “My name is Ulah Fitzpatrick, but exactly who I am escapes me at the moment. Certainly I’m not who I thought I was earlier this evening!”
“You talk in riddles, Lilah. Out with it… the truth!”
She shrugged daintily. “Who knows the truth? You heard as well as I that woman’s remark as we were leaving the ballroom. Something about the bastard line of the family. I have no idea what she meant. I’ve always been told I was a cousin of the Patricks.”
“A term used loosely here in the South, I’ve learned. The Habershams call me ‘cousin,’ though the relationship is so distant I doubt that it truly exists. Isn’t there anyone you could ask, Lilah?”
She thought for a moment. “Granny would know. She’s been on this island most of her life. Yes! I’ll ask her. I have to know right away.”
She pulled away from Steele, anxious to find out the details of her past. He held her hand, detaining her.
“I’ll see you again?” he asked.
“Yes… no… I don’t know. You’re one of them, Steele. I don’t belong.” But she wanted to see him again. She knew that.
“I’m as much a fish out of water here as you. I only came to Rainbow Hammock because I was staying with Mrs. Patrick’s brother and his wife, the Ryans, while in Savannah on business with my shipping firm. You know old Oscar Ryan?”
“Yes,” Lilah replied. “He’s a dear man.”
“Then you can probably imagine his orders to me. ‘Steele, my boy, you haven’t had a true taste of Southern hospitality until you’ve been a guest on Rainbow Hammock for a few days. My sister and brother-in-law will be downright beside themselves if you don’t come along. Fine plantation, Fortune’s Fancy. Cotton, timber—more shippin’ business than you could shake a stick at! Wouldn’t do you all any harm to be lookin’ into that. Big money in that family! Big money, son!’”
By the time Steele finished his imitation of Oscar Ryan, tears of mirth were streaming down Lilah’s cheeks. It felt good to laugh again.
“You imitate old Uncle Oscar to perfection!” she managed.
He laughed with her—a good, honest laugh.
“No disrespect intended, of course. Anyway, that’s how I happen to be here. That and seeing my distant cousin’s engagement announcement in the Savannah Morning News. I felt the New York branch of the family tree ought to be represented.”
“Yes. The engagement,” Lilah murmured. Somehow, he’d managed to make her forget for a time.
Steele clasped her in his arms and kissed her firmly.
“There! That’s to dream on, Queen Delilah,” he said with husky tenderness. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, after you’ve untangled your emotional imbroglio.”
He held her for a moment longer with his smoky gaze.
“I don’t know, Steele.”
She turned quickly before he could kiss her again, and ran through the dunes toward the cabin. She could feel his eyes on her still.
“Until tomorrow, Lilah.”
His words echoed in her mind all the way back to the overseer’s shack.
Chapter 4
Lilah was in luck. When she entered the front door, only Granny remained up, waiting for her. The old woman rocked gently before the low fire, the shadows on her face giving her a skeletal look.
“Granny,” Lilah whispered, not wanting to jolt the woman out of her light doze and possibly pleasant dreams of days gone by.
“What?… Yes … Wasn’t asleep,” she stammered. Then smiling up at Lilah, she asked, “Well, child, how was the ball?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later, Granny. Right no
w, I’m hoping you can tell me a thing or two.”
Granny nodded as if anticipating Lilah’s questions.
“I need to know who I am,” Lilah said seriously. “Only you can tell me.”
Granny rose from the rocker slowly, with a creaking of joints, and went to the cupboard.
“I suppose it is time, girl, high time and past.” She hefted a great book down from the shelf. “You ain’t never gonna know who you are or how you ought to act ‘less you understand who your people were.”
The gravity of her grandmother’s words sent a shiver through Lilah.
Granny set the tome carefully on the table. It was bound in age-cracked black leather, the gilt edges of the pages gone greenish from humidity. This was the Fitzpatrick family Bible.
Granny eased herself into a chair. She opened the Bible to a place marked by a faded purple ribbon. There between the Old and New Testaments a hundred years of Fitzpatrick births, deaths, and marriages had been recorded. The dry pages crackled like winter-killed leaves in the quiet room.
Lilah watched Granny’s arthritic fingers crawl across the top of the yellowed page.
“There, child, there’s your beginnings. Lord Robert Patrick and a woman named Geraldine Smythe from Savannah. You come in a direct line from the landed gentry of Ireland. So hold yourself proud from now on. Don’t let nobody take you for less than your worth. Not no Patrick, not nobody! You got the same right to this land as that bunch up to the big house. You’re cut from the same bolt of fine Irish linen! And don’t you ever forget it, you hear me?”
“I’ll remember, Granny,” Lilah answered obediently, though she still didn’t understand.
Why, if they were directly related to the same ancestors the Patricks claimed, was their last name different? And, if she had as much right to the land as the Patricks, why did she live in the overseer’s humble tabby cabin instead of in one of the fine rooms at Fortune’s Fancy? Lilah suddenly visualized Amalee’s large bedroom with its tall tester bed of polished rosewood and the linens that always gave off the fresh scent of lavender. She shared her own cramped space and old iron bed with Granny.
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