Laurie McBain

by Tears of Gold

  Back in her stateroom Mara pulled off her bonnet and rid herself of her shoes. She padded around the room in her stockinged feet. Soon her skirt and bodice jacket, petticoats, corset, and drawers had followed suit to lay forgotten across the bed as Mara soaked in the hot, perfumed water of a large tub that had been filled by a small troupe of maids. Closing her eyes, she hummed a soft melody. A satisfied smile curved the corners of her mouth.

  “Glad you came?” Nicholas asked from the doorway where he had been standing quietly as he watched her bathe. His coat was thrown carelessly across his arm and his vest was hanging open to reveal his ruffled shirt-front. He came slowly toward the tub.

  Mara eyed him suspiciously over the broad brim of the tub. “To be sure, I’d not have missed floatin’ upriver in a ship as fine as a king’s palace,” Mara retorted uncomfortably as Nicholas continued to stare moodily down at her.

  Nicholas wanted to reach out and touch the rich, dark hair piled high on top of her head. The steam had curled delicate tendrils of hair around her forehead and temples. The long, slender column of her neck and curve of shoulder glistened above the water while just beneath the surface he could see the soft outline of rounded breasts.

  “You may wish you had stayed in New Orleans instead,” he said oddly as he glanced away.

  “If I recollect properly, you didn’t give me much say in the matter,” Mara responded, wondering what she had done to displease him that he would suddenly wish she were not here.

  “I know I didn’t,” Nicholas answered shortly. Then, reaching down into the tub, he grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet facing him, the water lapping gently around her thighs as she stood shivering in the middle of the tub. “A man is seldom reasonable when he wants a woman’s company, and that is what you’re here for, my dear.”

  Nicholas’s arms closed around Mara’s wet, dripping body and pulled her against his chest. “So comfort me now,” he ordered as his mouth closed over her slightly parted lips and he began to kiss her passionately, his hands moving along the curve of her back, then up to cup her warmly damp breasts. His jade green eyes burned into her flesh as they roved over her pink-tinted body. With deliberate slowness he moved his palm across a hardening nipple, then to her shoulder, brushing the back of his hand caressingly against her jaw before he pulled loose the mass of dark hair and let it fall to freedom down her back. He ran his fingers through its satiny length, stroking the long strands of hair indolently, as if he enjoyed the feel of its softness in his hands. Suddenly his languid manner disappeared as he cupped the back of Mara’s head and kissed her fiercely, his lips moving against hers, forcing them open. She gave herself up to the languorous sensations spreading through her body.

  “You’d better finish bathing,” Nicholas spoke abruptly as he freed his mouth and pushed Mara from him, his shirtfront clinging damply to his chest from contact with her wet body.

  Mara stared at his retreating figure in hurt confusion. She sank back beneath the warm waters of her bath, the long ends of her hair floating around her shoulders as she soaped her body, the pleasure of her bath having vanished.

  Mara awoke close to dawn to feel the bed beside her empty. Looking into the gloomy darkness of the room, she saw the solitary figure of Nicholas standing silhouetted against the open door of their cabin, his shoulders slumped against the doorjamb as he stared out on the moonlit banks of the Mississippi. Mara saw the tip of his cheroot glow red in the darkness. What was going through his mind, as he stood alone and prepared to face Beaumarais? Mara watched him in silence, keeping him company without his being aware of it. When finally he returned to their bed, she waited patiently until he had fallen asleep. Then, moving slightly, she cradled his head against her breast as he rolled over restlessly, turning to her naturally while he slept.

  “But I don’t want hot milk and oatmeal!” Paddy complained nasally, his lower lip jutting out precariously as he looked across the breakfast table at Mara. “I want sausage balls, waffles, pork chops, and hot chocolate,” Paddy stated firmly.

  “Now, Master Paddy, ye know ye’ve got the sniffles and ye shouldn’t be stuffin’ yourself,” Jamie said just as firmly as she eyed the menu, a pair of hastily donned spectacles on the tip of her nose. “How about some nice stewed chicken and buttered toast?”

  “No, don’t want chicken,” Paddy mumbled grumpily as he sniffed loudly.

  “Paddy,” Mara interjected with a reproving note in her voice that told him to not make a scene, “be a good lad and do as Jamie asks.”

  “Won’t eat anything then,” Paddy decided with a mutinous look around the table.

  “Let the boy have what he wants,” Nicholas commented easily. “You should be relieved that he is hungry, for he can’t be too sick if he’s willing to put away all that food.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Nicholas,” Paddy beamed as he cast both Mara and Jamie a smug look.

  “Now apologize to your aunt and Jamie,” Nicholas commanded lazily, but his green eyes warned Paddy he’d be wise to obey.

  “Sorry,” Paddy said contritely, then brightened visibly as the waiter arrived to take their order.

  Mara shook her head in amused exasperation. “Very well, order what you want, Paddy,” Mara gave in as she looked down at the menu and tried to decide what to order. After the long months on board ship, it was a treat to be able to choose from such a wide variety. She could have ham, beefsteak with onions, beefsteak with tomatoes, beefsteak à la Creole, mutton chops, or calf’s liver; fried fish, fried potatoes, fried onions, mush, codfish balls, hominy fritters, or plantains; grits, stewed potatoes, potatoes fricasseed, hash, or jambalaya; waffles, muffins, flannel cakes, buckwheat cakes, corn bread, dry toast, buttered toast, or graham rolls. For liquid refreshment there was green tea, black, or oolong; coffee, Java or mocha; milk, hot chocolate, or claret.

  Mara signed, knowing for a certainty that she didn’t wish for fish or potatoes, having had her fill of those two dishes on the voyage.

  “Will you trust me to order?” Nicholas suggested. With quick efficiency he selected for all of them except Paddy, who had already placed his order.

  Sipping the last of her coffee a little later, Mara glanced casually around the crowded dining room and suddenly became aware of a stout woman dressed in pale mauve and pearls staring boldly through her lorgnette at Nicholas.

  “You seem to have caught the eye of a certain diner,” Mara commented softly, drawing Nicholas’s attention to his apparently bemused admirer.

  Nicholas turned and stared curiously at the woman. She seemed to become flustered by his direct look. She definitely was not one of his admirers, for as she saw his full face clearly, the dull red of her blush turned mottled with suppressed outrage. Mara could see the woman’s bosom heave with indignation as she pushed back her chair and hauled herself to her feet. Although she wasn’t very tall, she gave the impression of being so by the way she regally marched across the room, the tortured flesh of her tightly corseted body quivering beneath the material of her gown as she made her exit, her stiff back retreating eloquently through the door.

  “She obviously remembered me,” Nicholas said with a sardonic look.

  “Who was she?” Mara demanded, thinking that Brendan could have described her beautifully in a few choice words.

  Nicholas shrugged. “I don’t remember her name, but the look of disapproval seems vaguely familiar. Shall we go?” he asked smoothly, apparently unconcerned by the woman’s scornful actions as he seemed to put the incident from his mind.

  But Mara couldn’t seem to, for if this stranger who had barely known Nicholas still ostracized him after all of these years, then how would his own family react when they saw him? Mara had time to wonder and worry about the reunion as the next few hours passed in lazy idleness as the riverboat made its way up the Mississippi.

  “When will we arrive at Beaumarais?” Mara finally asked rather cautiously after lunch. Nicholas had maintained a preoccupied silence for most of the afternoon. />
  “In about an hour, although it took a little material persuasion to get the good captain to dock at Beaumarais,” Nicholas explained with ill-concealed contempt. “It seems the steamboats are accustomed to stopping upstream at the Sandrose landing now, instead of at Beaumarais.”

  Within the hour the riverboat had berthed at the river landing of Beaumarais, the paddle-wheeler’s whistle having heralded their arrival. Their luggage was quickly unloaded onto the small pier, and as they stood in a silent group surrounded by the piled-up trunks, the riverboat moved sluggishly out into the main current of the river and continued its journey north.

  Nicholas looked around at the familiar landing, which once had groaned under bales of cotton and bundles of sugar cane, stacked and waiting to be loaded.

  Jamie was perched on one of the large trunks, her feet barely touching the wooden boards as she kept a watchful eye on Paddy.

  “Now don’t ye go and fall in, Master Paddy,” she warned him as he slipped in the slick mud, nearly losing his balance before stepping back higher along the bank. “I don’t want to have to go and fish ye out like an old boot.”

  “The house sits back from the river a fair distance, and as we are not expected…” Nicholas left the rest of his sentence unfinished as he looked around the deserted wharf.

  “We have a short walk ahead of us?” Mara queried.

  Nicholas grinned. “I hope you wore your walking boots. Or if you think you’re not up to it, you can always wait here for me to return with a carriage,” he offered with gracious hospitality, but his eyes held a challenging glint.

  Mara returned his look with a slight smile. “And miss the grand reunion? I think I can manage, thank you,” she said coolly, then glanced around at Jamie. “What about it? Do you want to wait here for a carriage or walk up to the house with us?”

  “I want to come too!” Paddy cried as he came running back, his shoes caked with mud and his cheek and upper lip streaked with dirt where he had wiped his nose.

  “Don’t fancy sittin’ here all day,” Jamie said with an impatient look as she got to her feet. Grabbing hold of Paddy’s hand, she began walking.

  They moved up the narrow road that wound through the thick belt of trees that stretched away from the river. Mara pulled her cape closer around her as she felt the coolness in the air. She glanced up as the honking cries of geese overhead drifted to her. They congregated in the marshes and swamps where they would spend the winter months after their long flight from the northernmost reaches of the country. Mara stayed toward the center of the road, avoiding the thick underbrush extending into the shadowy depths of the willows and poplars.

  Nicholas pointed to a tall tree standing above all of the rest and around the far side of the curve of the road they were following. “The sycamore stands just before the grounds of the house. It’s not too much farther now.”

  They rounded the curve and came to a sudden halt as they found themselves face to face with a solitary figure seated bareback on a beautiful horse, apparently waiting for them.

  Nicholas’s green eyes narrowed speculatively as he sized up the small girl sitting astride the big red bay, his shiny coat no less a flaming auburn than the girl’s two, long braids. She sat with the indolent ease that only a confident rider could manage, her bare legs dangling from beneath the muddied hem of her skirts, one hand in the pocket of a blue velvet jacket as she watched them approach from her vantage point on the big horse’s back.

  “We don’t take kindly to strangers trespassing on Beaumarais land,” she spoke suddenly, her childish voice cutting through the quiet afternoon shadows.

  “And what makes you think that I’m a stranger to Beaumarais, little one?” Nicholas retorted easily.

  The girl nudged her horse slightly with her bare heels as she came forward for a closer look at this impudent stranger. He stood in the middle of the road with his long legs planted firmly apart, looking as if he owned the territory.

  “I don’t know you,” she said arrogantly as she tossed one of her braids over her shoulder disdainfully. But her remarkable gray green eyes had narrowed suspiciously as she gazed, at Nicholas’s face. “And since we aren’t expecting guests, you might as well turn around right now and leave.”

  “And what has happened to the famed Beaumarais hospitality?” Nicholas demanded.

  The young girl straightened her narrow shoulders proudly as she lifted her chin and stared down at Nicholas. “And what would you know of Beaumarais hospitality? I doubt whether it has ever been extended to you before,” she commented.

  “Is that your horse?” Paddy couldn’t resist asking as he watched the animal in awe.

  The girl’s wide eyes turned on the little boy who couldn’t hide his envy. She smiled indulgently. “He’s mine. His name’s Sorcier, and nobody but me rides him. He’s the fastest in the parish—maybe even in the whole of Louisiana,” she declared.

  “He seems like a lot of horse for such little hands,” Nicholas commented, unimpressed.

  “You think I’m just a braggart, do you?” she said with a challenging glint in her eye. “Well, I’ll show you, m’sieu, just who is full of hot air and who isn’t.”

  With a superior look at Nicholas she turned her horse around and galloped back up the road, veering off as she headed toward a high gate in a fence that surrounded the grounds.

  Mara glanced at Nicholas as he stood watching the little figure, her auburn braids flying out behind her as she urged the big bay over the high railing. His hooves easily cleared the gate. Nicholas’s green eyes were narrowed in what Mara knew from past experience was simmering anger, and she hoped for the sake of the small equestrian that she turned out to be no close relation. She would be in constant trouble if she fell under Nicholas’s discipline.

  The flying hooves appeared once again over the gate, not clearing it by such a margin this time. The girl returned to the group of strangers, expecting praise.

  “You might as well enjoy him now, for you will not be riding on his back for much longer,” Nicholas promised coldly. “An irresponsible little fool like you should only be allowed on the back of a pony.”

  The little fool in question stared down at this stranger, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. No one had ever dared to speak to her in such a tone before. Two bright spots of color appeared on her pale cheeks as wrathful indignation began to rise. “Get off my property right now. You don’t have any right to be here, whoever you are,” she spat.

  “And just who are you?” Nicholas inquired with deceptive softness.

  “I am Damaris de Montaigne-Chantale. Who are you?” she asked insolently.

  Nicholas smiled. “I’m Nicholas de Montaigne-Chantale.” The young girl’s hands clenched on the reins and her horse neighed nervously as he felt the tension in his mistress’s muscles.

  Mara watched as different emotions flickered across the elfin face. She was too young to be able to hide what she was feeling, and so the surprise, disbelief, dismay, and finally the wary curiosity were vividly displayed for all to see as she stared down with huge gray green eyes at this half-brother she had never met but had heard about in whispered stories.

  “Well, ma petite demi-soeur,” Nicholas said almost gently as he realized her confusion, “am I to be welcomed back to Beaumarais?”

  A fleeting smile curved Damaris’s lips, then was gone. “Maybe by some,” she said enigmatically, and suddenly seemed very adult.

  “And by you?”

  Damaris shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. Who’s she, your wife? Is the boy your son?” she demanded inquisitively as she stared down at Mara and Paddy from her perch high atop the big bay’s back.

  “You ask a lot of personal questions,” Nicholas said disapprovingly.

  “If you don’t, you won’t get any answers,” Damaris returned with childish logic.

  “You still may not get any answers, Damaris,” Nicholas warned.

  “You want me to ride back up to the house and send a carriage?�
�� Damaris asked, deftly changing the subject.

  “No. If I remember correctly, it isn’t too much farther. Do you mind continuing?” he asked Mara, who’d been watching and listening to the exchange between brother and sister with growing amusement. “No, not at all,” she told him truthfully. “In fact, I’m rather enjoying myself,” she added with a look that left him in little doubt about what she was enjoying.

  “Where are you from?” Damaris asked Mara. “You sound different even from the Americans in New Orleans.” She rode along beside them as they resumed walking up the road.

  “I’m from Ireland,” Mara told her.

  “Is that where you’ve been all these years?” she questioned Nicholas.

  “I’ve been all over the world,” Nicholas answered.

  “We just came from California,” Paddy informed her importantly, “and Uncle Nicholas is rich. Richer than you I bet,” he added for good measure as he jealously sidled closer to Nicholas, trying to match him stride for stride.

  Damaris’s eyes flashed angrily as she glared down at Paddy’s sailor-capped head. “We’ve got a lot of money and a big house. Do you? Why did you call him uncle? You’re not my cousin, are you?” she demanded. “Is he?”

  “No, but he has my permission to call me uncle.”

  Damaris thoughtfully considered his answer for a moment, not understanding the relationship between these strangers. She gazed at Mara in open admiration and without any sign of embarrassment for staring so rudely. Then her eyes slid over to Nicholas, and she subjected him to the same critical appraisal until finally seeming to come to a conclusion.