Each Time We Love

by Shirlee Busbee

  "You're certain you won't mind?" Adam asked, although he already knew the answer. He was as much at home at Terre du Coeur as he was at Belle Vista, and though it was not what he had planned, he found the notion of some solitary exploration appealing.

  Jason shook his dark head. "Don't be ridiculous! Enjoy yourself while I am gone and by the time I return with Catherine and the children you will be sick enough of your own company to view our arrival with joy."

  "I already am sick of my own company—it is why I came to visit you," Adam admitted, "But I will accept your invitation to stay and I'll look forward to your return with the family."

  Jason shot him a keen look. "Have the pleasures of Natchez palled so soon? I would have thought that after your escapades with the British last year at the capital you would have welcomed a period of tranquility."

  Adam took a long pull of his drink. "Tranquility," he muttered, "can be so bloody boring—you know that."

  "Ah, but you forget," Jason replied, "Since the advent of your sister into my life, I cannot say that I have known a tranquil moment. If she is not happily wreaking havoc in my heart and home, then it seems that our children manage to fill the void when she is in a sweetly submissive mood. A state, I can tell you that does not happen often! Perhaps if you would..."

  "Find a wife?" Adam asked in a dulcet tone.

  Unperturbed to be caught at such blatant matchmaking, Jason smiled. "Not just any wife, you understand, man ami, but a wife who will add a tempestuous element to your life, a wife who will turn your well-ordered world upside down and keep you ecstatically employed in her bed. A wife who will present you with a quiver-full of impudent scamps similar to my own, and one who will enchant, enrage and beguile you. That's what you need, and then perhaps you will not be so intent upon seeking adventure and risking your life on whatever dangerous scheme may next occur to you."

  "A wife like yours is what you mean, isn't it?"

  "Well, that would be a fair assumption, but since there is only one Catherine and since she very definitely is my wife and your sister, I would suggest that you look a little farther afield." Jason answered with a grin, although his eyes remained serious.

  How well did Jason know the devils that drove Adam. They came from having too much—too much freedom to do as he willed, too much money, too much power with no one to gainsay him, too much pride and temper and far too much attractiveness to the ladies. Nothing challenged Adam. Everything was simply too easy, whether it was women or money or position or even friends. Whatever Adam wanted... Adam got. Jason recognized the reasons behind Adam's constant search for excitement and adventure. Once he had been the same, and when he was twenty-nine and his father, Guy, had suggested he marry, he had been outraged. Looking back over the past twelve years, Jason would now readily admit that Guy had been right.

  But again, although he believed marriage would do much to alleviate Adam's reckless need for new horizons, Jason was aware that it would take an exceptional woman to tame his half brother. Marriage to a properly raised, demure young thing was not the answer—such a marriage would be disastrous for Adam—and yet Jason would not like to see him caught in the clutches of a sophisticated, worldly woman either. What Adam needed, Jason conceded, was a woman like Catherine—unconventional, strong-willed, able to hold her own against Adam's forceful personality, hot-tempered, fiercely loyal, yet possessing a heart full of warmth and love.

  * * *

  If he had only known it, Jason had aptly described Savanna O'Rourke, but since Adam was at Terre du Coeur in northern Louisiana and Savanna was currently attempting to adjust to living with her mother at Campo de Verde, some miles south of New Orleans, the likelihood of Adam and Savanna crossing paths seemed improbable. And as far as Savanna was concerned, the last thing she needed was a husband—Bodene was proving to be every bit as obnoxiously restrictive and domineering as any husband could have hoped to be.

  It wasn't, she admitted fairly, as she lay beneath a weeping willow tree near one of the small bayous that crisscrossed the property, that he meant to be so overbearing, it was simply that Bodene was used to arranging events to suit himself and she was used to doing precisely that same thing. And when they each wanted the opposite...

  Savanna had known that Bodene would be elated at her capitulation to return with him, and since there was no use squabbling over minor things, she had let him arrange their journey to Campo de Verde without argument. Their trip downriver had been uneventful and she and Bodene had spent the time together quite pleasurably—no serious disagreements. Until they had reached New Orleans...

  He had suggested that they remain a night or two in New Orleans and when she had not objected, had mentioned that she might like to visit the dressmaker who enjoyed her mother's patronage. He'd be happy to help her refurbish her wardrobe. After all, she couldn't go around in that same plain brown gown forever, could she? Having seen where he was maneuvering her, she had taxed him with it and they had ended up in one unholy row—Bodene furious that she would not let him deck her out in stylish fashion, Savanna equally furious that he thought she was going to let him start treating her as a poor dependent. They had been skirmishing daily since then, about everything from the way she insisted upon helping with the household chores, despite the adequate staff employed by Bodene, to the fact that she preferred to go barefoot most of the time.

  Savanna sighed and, arms behind her head, continued to stare blankly up through the gentle green canopy formed by the branches of the willow tree. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, but she took no notice of it, her mind on the situation.

  She hadn't realized how much she had missed her mother until she had arrived at Campo de Verde and Elizabeth had fairly tumbled down the steps in the excitement of Savanna's arrival. There was little resemblance between the two women as they had stood there in the hot sunlight, embracing each other. Savanna towered inches above Elizabeth's smaller height, and though intermingled in the blond strands of Elizabeth's hair could be seen several glints of red, her hair did not have the flame-red glory of her daughter's. It was only in the brilliant clarity of the aquamarine eyes, which they shared, that their resemblance was obvious, that and perhaps in the lushness of their shapes, despite the difference in their height.

  At thirty-nine, Elizabeth O'Rourke was still a fine figure of a woman, although the signs of her hard life were obvious in the lines and creases that marred her once lovely features. That she had been born and bred a lady was apparent not only in her speech and manner, but in a certain elegant air about her that she had never lost despite the adversities she had suffered. She possessed a careworn beauty and looked to be the mature woman that she was, a woman who had lived through many difficult years, but had triumphed in the end.

  That first evening at Campo de Verde, the two women had sat up until nearly dawn talking about whatever came to their minds, and it had been wonderful—for the first time it seemed they met as equals, not just as mother and daughter, and whatever differences they might have had in the past seemed to have disappeared. But there were still delicate areas between them and Savanna had touched on one of them when she asked unthinkingly, "Do you ever wonder why he left me his estate when he never publicly acknowledged me as his daughter?"

  As the hours had passed, their conversation had touched briefly on Davalos, something it rarely did, and the words had popped out of her mouth before Savanna had considered her mother's feelings. The sad expression that touched Elizabeth's face twisted Savanna's heart, and dropping to her knees beside her mother's chair, she muttered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject."

  Elizabeth smiled wryly. "It's not exactly the subject that I find painful as much as it is your continued bitterness and resentment of him."

  Savanna grimaced. "I can't help it. I barely knew the man and I resent what he did to you."

  Elizabeth gently clasped Savanna's chin and tilted her head up. "Davalos could not have seduced me if I had not been a willing participant
—never forget that," Elizabeth said. "I know you and Bodene have never understood, but I loved your father. And in the beginning he was everything a young girl dreams of—handsome, witty and charming—and I was swept off my feet. I took one look at him across the Governor's ballroom, saw those dark, gleaming eyes and those arrogant Spanish features and fell madly in love... and though I wanted to stop loving him when I discovered what sort of man I had given my heart to, it was too late. I loved him—even with all his faults." She glanced away, her thoughts deep in the past.

  "I know that he was not a good man," she finally said in a low tone. "I know that he treated us disgracefully, shamefully, but while he hurt me dreadfully, I never seemed to be able to stop loving him." She looked unhappily at Savanna. "I know. I should have been stronger. I should have had more pride. I should have hated him for what he did and continued to do, but the habit of loving is very hard to break...."

  Savanna rested her cheek on her mother's knee. "But didn't you resent what he had done?"

  Elizabeth's mouth curved ruefully. "Oh, yes. I resented it bitterly and I can't deny that there were times that I felt as if I hated him. But then he would come to me and woo me and convince me that soon, someday very soon, he would indeed marry me... and like a fool, I would believe him." She shook her head as if amazed that she had ever been so besotted. "Sometimes," she continued, "you can know that something or someone is bad for you and yet you cannot seem to break free of the spell they weave around you—so it was with me and your father." She looked down at Savanna. "I've never pretended that he was a good man, or even an honorable man. I suspect that he was a wicked man, but I have to believe that in his own fashion he did love us and that if he had not been killed, he might have one day married me and acknowledged you as his daughter."

  She lifted Savanna's head from her lap and smiled. "And in a way, he did acknowledge you, didn't he? In his will he stated clearly that you were his daughter and his heir."

  Savanna made a face. "What do you think he was doing out there in Spanish Texas when he was killed?"

  "I have no idea, unless it had to do with some wild scheme of his to find a fortune."

  At Savanna's look, Elizabeth added reluctantly, "That last time he came to see us he was full of nonsense about a golden fortune. He kept insisting that this man, I believe his name was Jason, Jason Savage, was his deadliest enemy and that Jason would kill him rather than let him find the fortune first."

  "Didn't you believe him? Isn't that what probably happened? That this Jason Savage killed him?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. "I didn't know it at the time, but Jason Savage is very well thought of throughout the state. He is, and always has been, very wealthy and moves in the highest circles of society—he would have had no reason to kill your father."

  Savanna wasn't as easily convinced and a frown crept between her eyes as she said, "But if there were a fortune involved..."

  Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head again. "No, dear. There was no fortune. It was just a wild-goose chase that your father was running after. He always had those sorts of schemes and every time he left me, it was with the promise that it would be the last time, that this time he would have found his fortune."

  The explanation didn't satisfy Savanna, but since it had all happened a long time ago, she lost interest in it and she and her mother turned to happier topics. And for the first few days in her mother's home, Savanna surprised herself by enjoying the quiet, unhurried rhythm of the place.

  That feeling hadn't lasted. She had been at Campo de Verde for almost a week now and the place was beginning to suffocate her. Thinking of how happy her mother was that she was here, Savanna felt guilty for feeling as she did. She loved her mother and Elizabeth's excitement and pleasure at having her living at Campo de Verde was deeply touching, but Savanna knew that she didn't belong here.

  With the days of Crow's Nest far behind her, Elizabeth had made a totally new and different life for herself, one that Savanna found unbearably restrictive. Here at Campo de Verde, where Elizabeth's former life was unknown, it was assumed that she had been married to Davalos, and so she was viewed as a respectable widow with a circle of equally respectable friends. Those same friends expected Savanna to fall into the same mold, but unfortunately, Savanna couldn't see herself joyfully settling down to embroidery work and pleasant dinner parties at which one chatted about the newest fashions, children and the latest tittle-tattle that filtered down to the delicate ears of the ladies. Dios! The future looked bleak indeed to Savanna on this warm April afternoon.

  Seeking to escape her thoughts, she rolled over onto her stomach, staring darkly across the narrow expanse of lawn to the house that sat at the end of a short oak-studded driveway. The house at Campo de Verde was not impressive, but like its grander neighbors, it faced the Mississippi River. Built over sixty years ago, more as a summer cottage, it was not a large building and it had the raised basement so common to houses in Louisiana, with the family living quarters situated on the second floor. The hip roof extended over the upper gallery that encased the entire second story, and a series of columns, large plastered brick below, delicately turned wood above, endowed the house with charm, as did the small, curving outside staircase that led to the upper floor. Once the house had been a glistening white, but now the outside color had faded to a more pleasing, Savanna thought, shade of cream.

  Everything had been in a state of decay when Savanna and the others had arrived from Crow's Nest, but with hard work and as much money as they could afford lavished on the place, Campo de Verde was once again, if not a show-place, a comfortable home. Elizabeth had adored the place on sight, but Savanna had viewed the shuttered, heat-blistered building with its sagging railings with a jaundiced eye.

  The surrounding area had been a veritable wilderness, the semitropical climate of lower Louisiana encouraging the rampant growth of every type of plant and tree imaginable. Huge cypress trees and massive oaks draped with gray-green Spanish moss that drifted eerily in the air at the slightest breeze seemed to close in on the house and outbuildings. Everywhere one looked, palmettos, Spanish dagger, magnolia trees, wild honeysuckle and jasmine all fought for supremacy of the land. The jungle-like setting appealed to Savanna, but it was all that found favor with her.

  Scowling, she flung herself onto her back and was still seeking a solution to her situation when a small sound made her frown. The next instant, to her horror, she found herself staring up into Micajah's grinning features....

  Chapter 5

  Micajah had wasted two frustrating days in Natchez trying to discover the whereabouts of one Adam St. Clair. His inquiries had come to naught and it appeared that for the present, Adam St. Clair had disappeared off the face of the earth. But having received half the money for arranging the death of the elusive St. Clair and with Jeremy whining that it was Savanna O'Rourke they needed to be chasing, not Adam St. Clair, Micajah had reluctantly conceded that Jeremy might be right. He could kill St. Clair at any time, but if Jeremy's tale was true, and Micajah came to believe that it was, a visit with Savanna was in order.

  It had been a setback to discover that Savanna had also disappeared. But with only a little bloodshed, he had been able to convince the hapless caretaker of the tavern to tell him where Savanna had gone. He and Jeremy had scurried downriver to Campo de Verde and for the last day and a half they had been lurking in the tangled undergrowth, trying to decide on the best way to kidnap Savanna.

  Micajah had used the intervening time since Jeremy had first told him the tale of the gold to reflect on what he knew about Savanna and the best way to get her to, er, cooperation. He didn't believe that Savanna had any knowledge of the gold—if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't have been running O'Rourke's Tavern. Davalos might have claimed to have left her a golden armband, but it was obvious to him that she hadn't discovered it yet and perhaps never would, if the knowledge of the Aztec treasure still remained hidden over ten years after Davalos's death. He'd already decided that
it was Jason Savage who probably knew all the answers about the gold, and Micajah didn't see the need to find the golden armband right away—there'd be plenty of time to search for it after they had found the main treasure... and Savanna had discovered the delights of his lovemaking. Hell, after he found all that gold, he might even marry her.

  But first Savanna was going to have to be convinced that her father would have come back to her and Elizabeth if Jason Savage hadn't brought about his demise. Jason Savage had to be painted in the blackest light possible while Davalos bathed in a rosy glow.

  To this end, Micajah had been drilling Jeremy on what Savanna was to be told about her father's final words. His eyes boring into Jeremy's, Micajah had said, "You don't have to say much—I'll do all the talking, you just nod your head and confirm as the gospel truth whatever I tell her. The important thing is that we get her to go along with us and that she views this Savage fellow as the wickedest villain alive."

  Jeremy didn't understand Micajah's reasoning, but he was willing to follow his lead. The gold was all that mattered to him, and if Micajah thought that taking the girl with them would help, well, then...

  But getting the girl was proving to be difficult and Jeremy had begun to have doubts. That afternoon they hunkered down near a small bayou, hidden by the rampart vines and brush, when suddenly Micajah said with a note of satisfaction, "Well, I'll be damned! There she is, all alone, lying beneath that willow. Looks as if our luck has finally changed."

  Peering through the fanlike leaves of a palmetto, Jeremy caught sight of a tall feminine form not more than ten yards away. His heart leaped. There was no one else in sight and the nearest building was a distance away. The sun glinting on the flame-colored hair identified her, and Jeremy was all set to snatch her when Micajah shook his head. "No. We don't want to spook her. I'll take care of it."