A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5)

by Claire, Cherie

  Again, Amanda refused to answer.

  “Are you with your father? Is he here?”

  Amanda swallowed hard and shook her head. René stared back, at a loss for what to do, watching her bloodshot eyes for a sign. Something was terribly wrong, but how could he discover what it was when she sat before him in shock.

  “Tell me, mon amour,” he whispered gently as his thumb softly stroked her small hand lying placidly in his.

  Something he said awakened Amanda and tears began to replace her vacant stare. As a lone teardrop fell upon her cheek, she whispered so quietly he almost didn’t make out the words. “I have done something terrible.”

  “How could that be, chèr?” René couldn’t believe her capable of doing anything wrong, except perhaps refusing his hand. The pain of their earlier meeting returned, but his concern for her instantly sent it away.

  “I am in a great deal of trouble,” Amanda whispered, again so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard right.

  René tightened the hold on her hand. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”

  Tears began to fall and René knew Amanda was fighting back a sob. “I am here with a man. He has gone off in search of my father so we will be married.”

  René felt his breath leaving him and he dropped her hand back into her lap. So, she loved another man. Why hadn’t he concluded that out after all the questions he had asked others about Judge Richardson’s daughter? Until now, no one had ever mentioned it, not even her father. Perhaps her father had not approved, which was probably why Amanda had eloped with the bastard.

  The pain gripping his heart was more than he could stand. René forced himself to look away. He couldn’t bear gazing into the azure eyes that had haunted him so for the past few weeks, knowing they would never be his.

  “He has compromised me,” Amanda said in between the waves breaking the lonely silence.

  Suddenly, the meaning of her words became clear and René turned back to find Amanda sinking back into a state of shock. “What did you say?” he asked her, but she had tightly wrapped her arms around herself and stared off into the night.

  “Amanda!” René grasped her arms with such a force that she immediately stared back at him in alarm. He never would have dreamed of using her first name, but the gesture had made a difference. She could hear him. She was paying attention. “Tell me what happened. Has he hurt you in any way?”

  She shook her head, seeming to grasp his meaning.

  “Then how has he compromised you?”

  Amanda gazed up at her friend’s caring brown eyes and wondered why the tall Acadian thought so well of her. She had always heard the Acadians were private people, living in clusters of their own kind and avoiding rich Americans like herself. After all the mistreatment his people had experienced from the British, it was no wonder they distrusted authority and kept to themselves. But René had become her friend. And despite everything she had just told him, he was still here, hoping to help, giving her encouragement like a big brother. Suddenly, she felt very safe.

  “He brought me here against my will,” she told him, wanting desperately for René to blame Tanner and not herself, even though she knew she was primarily to blame. “He has gone to Berwick in search of my father, to make my father pay him for the honor of marrying me and saving me from ruin.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I have searched my soul praying for an answer, but there is none. Either way I have lost the only family I have. I cannot go home, my reputation is ruined. My father will certainly disown me for the scandal. If Tanner speaks to my father, he may pay him the money and we will marry, but my father will never speak to me again.”

  “Tanner?” René asked, disdain clearly showing in his voice. “’enry Tanner?”

  Under ordinary circumstances, Amanda would have smiled at the way René eliminated consonants too difficult to pronounce in English, but no matter how the name was spoken, it sent chills up her spine.

  When Amanda didn’t answer, René let lose a series of French expletives. “Do you have any idea who he is? What kind of reputation he has?”

  “I heard rumors.”

  “Rumors?” he practically shouted at her, running his fingers through his fine brown hair. “Mon dieu. Forgive me, my dear, but you have played with fire tonight. The man is notorious with women. There is word around town that he owes some powerful men a lot of money from gambling. He has been banned from my racetrack because no one can trust him.”

  Guilt settled in around Amanda’s heart. Her father always considered her naive, and she resented the label. She knew now she wasn’t just naive, she was remarkably stupid.

  Tears began to emerge and Amanda wondered how there could have been any water left inside her. “I am ruined.”

  René abruptly stood and began to pace the waterfront. “I will take you home.”

  “It’s no use. Father will beat us to Franklin.”

  “How is that possible if he is in Berwick tonight?”

  “Berwick,” Amanda announced, remembering why the name had sounded so strange. “Tanner said he was going to Berwick. My father changed his business meeting this morning. He went to Charenton with plans to return in the morning.”

  René sat down next to her and looked into her eyes eagerly. “That’s good. That will at least buy us some time. Berwick is in the other direction.

  “If Tanner is going to Berwick,” he continued, “we will go toward Franklin and be home by mid-morning, arriving there before. When your father returns, we will explain to him what has happened. He will have to understand.”

  “We will be seen coming into town and he will blame you. He will think you have compromised me,” Amanda said quietly.

  René looked as if she had offended him yet again.

  “We’ll explain,” he said sternly.

  “He’ll have you hanged.” Saving her reputation was one thing, but no one crossed her father, especially when it came to his daughter and especially when it concerned a Frenchman.

  René self-consciously adjusted his shirt collar and frowned. “There has to be a way.”

  “I can see none.” Amanda relegated herself to failure and the tears fell on her cheeks once again.

  René studied the horizon for several moments as if searching for meaning behind the dark bay waters. Several silent minutes passed between them, except for the boisterous singing of a drunken man leaving the pub. Amanda wished with all her might that she could remain in that position, never leaving René’s side, never returning to the harsh reality that awaited her.

  Suddenly, René’s countenance changed. He turned and gazed intently upon her as if something miraculous had come to him.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  René reached down and softly grasped Amanda’s hand. His eyes were not as gentle and Amanda feared what he might suggest.

  “I want you to stop crying,” he instructed sternly like a father. “I want you to understand perfectly what I am about to ask you.”

  His tone unnerved her, but she shook her head in agreement. She trusted him.

  “You must also promise to listen to everything I have to say. Promise?”

  Amanda drew a deep breath to try to dispel the tears. She had to concentrate. “I promise.”

  A few moments passed before René stated his intentions. Amanda hardly breathed while she waited for his instructions.

  “There is a way out of this,” he began. “If you were to marry me instead.”

  A Cajun Dream

  Chapter Three

  Was it love or revenge that made René propose? Surely, he adored Amanda Richardson, but he had to admit the thought of returning to Franklin to tell the Judge his daughter had become a Comeaux overnight was too much a temptation to refuse. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the old American’s face, the same one who had determinedly decided his daughter would never marry a Frenchman.

  In the end it would solve Amanda’s p
roblems, and keep her from marrying that bastard Tanner.

  First, he had to convince Amanda. She sat there staring at him with eyes the size of picayunes.

  “You must hear me out,” René insisted when it appeared as if Amanda would protest. “You have promised.”

  Amanda remained silent, her eyes never leaving his face, and René began to feel like a guilty man being pierced by the eyes of his victim. He again drew his hands through his hair and looked away.

  “I’m a devoted bachelor, Miss Richardson,” he began. “I live with my uncle and my cousin’s family. I work at the racetrack day and night, every day of the week. I have never had time for a family.”

  He glanced back to see how she was reacting to his explanation, but her face never changed expression. She appeared to be in shock once again. René’s feeling of guilt grew heavier.

  “My home would be yours,” he said, less confident than before. “I make a very good living. You will never want for anything. My family and I will take very good care of you.”

  Amanda must have begun to absorb the meaning of his words because she turned away pensively. René began to doubt she would accept. After all, their nationalities were miles apart in comparison.

  “As I said before, I am hardly at home. You will never have to worry....”

  Amanda looked up at him when he failed to find the proper English words. Taking her hand in his once more, René added quietly, “We will be married in name only. I will not ask anything of you that you do not wish. We could have a family later when you become more accustomed to being married to me.”

  A long silence befell the couple and René thought he heard the pub owner calling for last rounds. He wondered if Alcée had become worried over his absence. In all probability, Alcée was half asleep at his table, one arm hugging the bottle of rum.

  “What about you?” Amanda asked quietly, breaking the solitude.

  René frowned at the question. Was she referring to his intentions?

  “Do you not wish to marry someone else?”

  The question almost caused René to laugh out loud. The only woman he loved, the only one he dreamed of marrying, was sitting before him. “There is no other,” he said with a grim smile. “I work too much to be bothered with such things.”

  He wanted to dispel any worries she had over his intentions. He wanted to assure her he would be the utmost gentleman as her husband. “Are we not friends?” he asked.

  Amanda nodded.

  “And don’t friends help each other when one is in trouble?”

  When she smiled, René knew he was winning her over. He could read it in her eyes. Amanda was relenting.

  “But I am Catholic,” she inserted.

  This time, René did laugh. He knew the Richardsons were Catholic. He had seen Amanda in church when Colette had talked him into attending an occasional Mass.

  “I think I can live with that, chèr.”

  Amanda appeared to have realized her mistake and smiled slightly again. “Of course,” she said softly, looking down at her hands.

  Once more René feared he was losing her. “Father Breaux lives on the other side of the bay, at Bayou Attakapas. He could marry us tonight and we will be able to arrive in Franklin by noon tomorrow. I will then approach your father and tell him we have eloped.”

  “Do you think he will believe you?” Amanda asked, not looking up.

  René grimaced at the thought of the last meeting between himself and the Judge. “I believe I can convince him that I talked you into it.”

  Amanda would never have thought of eloping with him under normal circumstances, René thought bitterly to himself and the familiar pain flooded his heart. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all. Plus, he had failed to consider what his mother or Alcée would think or even where he would put his new bride. In the long run, could he live loving a woman as intensely as he did Amanda, knowing she would never love him in return?

  He tried to shake off the painful premonition. “When I meet your father, I’ll make sure there’s no rope handy,” he said with a wry smile.

  “All right.”

  René stared down into the eyes that had been his undoing, wondering if she was referring to the rope or the marriage.

  “I will,” Amanda said calmly, staring back.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she said with a confidence that gave him hope. She wasn’t faltering; she knew exactly what she was doing.

  “Bon. Then we should leave as soon as possible.”

  Alcée drew a deep breath as the Franklin courthouse’s bright white marble, shining in the early morning light, came into view. Only a few more miles and he would be home. Their farmhouse and racetrack lay on the outskirts of town in the bend of the bayou, the home a simpler dwelling than the elaborate monstrosities lining the street he now rode. René had always admired such wealth, but to Alcée the enormous houses and plantations represented products of slave labor, a peculiar American institution he openly despised.

  René echoed his feelings on slavery, but never expressed his views to les Americains. Bad business, he said, to cause rifts with clients. Better to keep quiet on matters of politics and religion, René had told him. Better to simply do business with the Americans, and not get involved in their private affairs.

  Alcée grimaced at the last thought. Even with all his best intentions of staying clear of the flame, René had thrown himself full force into the fire.

  Old man Wilkinson waved from his porch as Alcée cantered past, beckoning for him to ride over. Alcée knew what he wanted. Wilkinson fancied his horse the fastest in the parish, even though the poor mare was half blind and couldn’t beat a mule. René always entered the horse in races whenever Wilkinson asked. As long as the old man was willing, René said, he wouldn’t mind taking his money.

  “Not today, Wilkinson,” Alcée called to him from the street, urging his horse on to a faster pace.

  The old man stood up as if to protest, but Alcée had no time to lose. He had more important problems on his hands than an old man’s money. After he received René’s message in Port Cocodrie, he couldn’t get back to town fast enough.

  When the two-story farmhouse finally came into view, Alcée spotted Colette standing outside, twisting her apron anxiously. For an instant, Alcée feared the worst. Had Judge Richardson, in an emotional outburst over the fate of his daughter, hurt or killed his nephew? Alcée felt the blood rushing to his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to René. He had promised his sister he would look after the boy. Even though René dealt better in business with the Americans, Alcée knew how vulnerable love made its captive. He should have been more attentive to his broken-hearted friend and less enticed by a damned bottle of rum.

  Before the horse could come to a halt, Alcée jumped down and grabbed the reigns. In French he asked, “Where is he?”

  “Gone to town to speak to the girl’s father,” Colette answered, visibly shaken.

  “I’ll follow him.” Alcée turned the horse back around and remounted him. “Just in case anything happens.”

  “What will I do with her?” Colette asked, grabbing Alcée’s shirtsleeve anxiously. “I can’t speak English.”

  Alcée stared at the second story where four bedrooms were located. Colette and her children had moved in with the two bachelors when her husband had drowned in a boating accident years ago. René and Alcée had welcomed Colette and her family into their business venture, and were thankful for her home-cooked meals. The large farmhouse provided the family ample space, including a garconniere, or attic quarters for the young boys. While Colette occupied one side of the upper floor, René and Alcée slept in the other two rooms.

  “Put my things in your extra room,” Alcée answered, still refusing to believe his nephew had married the girl. “Tell Miss Richardson, or whatever her name is now, that she can rest in my room.”

  Colette stared at Alcée as if she failed to c
omprehend the instructions.

  “Just put her in René’s room. He got us into this mess, let him deal with her.”

  With a quick kick to the horse’s flanks, Alcée headed quickly back towards town.

  Amanda couldn’t decide who was more nervous or afraid, she or the cousin René quickly introduced as Colette. The sweetly plump, petite woman had actually turned white when René explained that he had married Judge Richardson’s daughter. He used those words, she was sure of it. Her French may have lain dormant for ten years, but some of the words were beginning to come back to her.

  It sounded as if he were bragging, she thought, then instantly reprimanded herself for thinking such a thing of the man who had rescued her from a lifetime with Henry Tanner. Now the rest of her life loomed ahead of her, tied forever with Monsieur René Comeaux, the local Acadian who ran the horse track. Although she didn’t fear René, the future appeared bleak and uncertain.

  For the thousandth time, Amanda wished she could turn back time and start anew. A little more than twenty-four hours earlier her father had given her the exquisite evening gown she still wore. Virginia had wished her well by bringing her breakfast in bed. About this time yesterday she had stood in the front garden picking a half dozen yellow roses for the lunchtime table, wondering why her friend René Comeaux was taking so long.

  If only her evening with Henry Tanner would disappear and René would be standing again on the other side of her fence.

  Looking around at her new home, Amanda felt the pain settle again in her heart. This is what I wanted, she thought grimly. This is what I wished for. Now I’m married to René Comeaux.

  Colette must have sensed that Amanda was about to faint, for she was instantly at her elbow, urging her into a nearby seat. The woman began to talk incessantly, as if she hoped additional French words would be more comprehensible than none. Amanda knew she was asking for approval, but through the haze of exhaustion nothing made sense.