A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5)

by Claire, Cherie

  Amanda entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her. As she moved to undress, she could hear René doing the same next door. She sat down on the bed, chastising herself for being both a coward and a hopeless romantic. If I’m not mistaken, Amanda Rose, she scolded herself, wishing for kisses in the moonlight is what got you into this mess.

  “Shut up,” she said aloud. The confusion, the guilt, the doubts, the anxiety she was causing others came crashing around her heart once more. “Go away,” she told her emotions, but they refused to budge. She placed her head inside her hands and took a deep breath. She had to tell him. She had to have an answer.

  Suddenly, a knock came at the door, causing Amanda to nearly jump out of her stockings. “Yes?”

  René opened the door slowly as if afraid she might be indecent. “I don’t understand it. Colette forgot to leave me some water. Did she leave you any?”

  Glad to be doing anything besides listening to her inner demons, Amanda checked the water pitcher by the side of the bed. “Yes, I have water. Bring your pitcher and I’ll give you some of mine.”

  René approached her shaking his head. “I don’t understand her. She does things like clockwork. This isn’t like her.”

  “It’s because of a bet she has with Alcée.”

  “What?”

  What had she just done? Amanda thought with horror. Would she ever learn to think before talking or acting?

  “Uh, nothing,” she answered. “I thought I heard them say something about it, but it’s nothing.”

  “If there’s a reason why she stopped putting water in my room, I’d like to know it.”

  Amanda had to say something. She was already halfway wet, she might as well dive in. “Alcée is betting that I’ll go home to my father. Colette bet him otherwise. She has been giving me water instead of you so you’ll come into my room every night, increasing her chances of winning the bet.”

  The blush spreading across her face burned like fire on paper. She wondered if René could see her scarlet face in the near darkness of the room.

  “I see,” he said solemnly, then moved to leave.

  Oh God, would she ever stop saying the wrong thing, she berated herself. But since she was plunging headfirst into the deep water, she might as well say it all.

  “René,” she called out, causing him to pause inches away. “My father wanted me to tell you he would grant an annulment if that was what you wanted.”

  When René refused to move or speak, Amanda added, “He said he would be generous.”

  René stared at her intently and Amanda instantly wished she could retract the words. She had insulted him, of that she was sure.

  “Amanda,” René quietly began, “if you wish to go home to your father then you must do what you have to do.” Leaning in closer, René continued between clenched teeth, “But your father can go to hell.”

  It took only seconds for René to march from the room and angrily slam the door. It took much longer for Amanda’s breathing to slowly return to normal. But as she sat on the edge of the massive bed, a bed she had shared only hours before, a satisfying smile stole across her face. Glancing up at a happier view of her husband, Amanda began to hope that life was about to get better.

  “One more game,” Tanner insisted, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. The familiar panic rose in his chest when McDuff entered the room. It could only mean one thing. His lack of payment on his mounting debts had worn out Tanner’s welcome.

  “McDuff,” Tanner coaxed, placing a friendly hand on the burly man’s shoulder, “a few more days and I’m loaded. I swear the money’s practically sitting in your pocket. In the meantime, how about a few hands to let me win back some of my hard-earned coins.”

  McDuff moved ever so slightly, knocking Tanner’s hand aside. Tanner recognized the look McDuff was sending; he was not a man to listen to balderdash, especially from a down-and-out gambler who hadn’t received a decent hand in over a month. Never since Tanner lost the family estate had he been busted so long. His Tennessee-born father had an expression for his present condition: “catawamptiously chawed up.”

  But he could turn his luck around. He felt it in the air. He wasn’t defeated yet.

  “A few hands,” Tanner insisted again. “You’ll see. I’ve got ole Lady Luck rolling with me tonight.”

  “Goodnight Henry,” McDuff said unemotionally. “Monday is fast approaching. I’d suggest you go home and find a way to pony up with that three thousand.”

  “I told you, Bill, the money’s...”

  “Better be in my pocket or a certain dandy will have a couple of broken legs, right before I bust his head open. Do we understand each other?”

  “I’ll have it.”

  “See that you do.” McDuff quickly pushed Tanner toward the door.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Tanner argued as he walked backwards towards the front of the gaming room and further away from the poker table. Knowing he’d be refused a game brought the panic to his throat. “One game,” he now pleaded. “Just one game.”

  McDuff gave him a final push across the threshold and slammed the door. Tanner pressed his hands and forehead against the cheap wood, aching like a suitor whose loved one’s father had bodily thrown him out. His body yearned for the feel of the dice in his hand, the rush of the game.

  Although Tanner despised the border ruffians who lived in shanties on the outskirts of town, he knew they always had a game of craps or chuck-a-luck in progress. Dusting off his waistcoat and adjusting his sleeves, Tanner headed for the lower end of Franklin.

  Before he left the glow of the fading street lamp, he noticed a dark-featured man standing at the corner, his black eyes staring. “What are you looking at?” Tanner asked brusquely.

  “Are you ’enry Tanner,” the man said, his French accent apparent.

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing,” the man answered, keeping in the shadows. “Except that word has it around Port Cocodrie you’ve been compromising innocent women.”

  Tanner leaned closer to get a better view, but the man’s dark hair and complexion and the lack of adequate street lighting made it impossible for him to get a good look. Who is this frog? Tanner thought. He never associated with Frenchmen.

  “Are you a friend of that bastard Comeaux? You tell that son-of-a-bitch he’s got a lot of nerve.”

  When the man didn’t answer, Tanner grew uncomfortable. “Like I said, what’s it to you?”

  The mysterious Frenchman continued to stare, seemingly contemplating Tanner’s answer. Then he tipped his hat. “Let’s hope nothing,” he said softly but with iron in its tone. “For your sake.”

  Tanner was about to retort but the man quickly moved down the street toward the center of town. It didn’t take the unknown Frenchman long in the intensely black night to completely disappear.

  “Shit,” Tanner mumbled to himself, wondering if Lady Luck had deserted him for good. “For my sake, my ass,” he shouted to the darkness. “No one threatens Henry Tanner.”

  He instantly forgot the craps game. He had more important things to consider. McDuff was right. He needed to plank up three thousand dollars and he knew a certain blonde heiress who would be of service.

  A Cajun Dream

  Chapter Seven

  The floorboards continued to creak in Virginia’s room and James thought he heard the opening and closing of a trunk. Pacing his upstairs bedroom, he knew he had to stop her, but every time he grabbed the copper doorknob his courage faltered.

  What the hell was he supposed to say? I’m sorry I lost all control of my senses and violated the trust that existed between us? Please excuse my indelicate behavior, can we return to normal now?

  What if she wants to discuss it? James thought with horror. The last thing he needed at a time like this was a heart-to-heart discussion about his needs with a woman. James suffered emotionally over the loss of his wife, but he never denied his physical longings. There were always women in t
he other towns where he conducted business who were willing to share his bed, and he had always been receptive. At least until two years ago. Knowing his loss was permanent had driven away all desire. Not to mention his reason d’etre, he thought grimly.

  Until today, James had forgotten the fire of passion, the delectable taste of a woman’s lips, the silky texture of a woman’s skin. Virginia had brought it all back like a violent Louisiana thunderstorm.

  “Damn,” he said aloud as a line of perspiration broke out on his brow. James marched from his room, slamming the door in his wake.

  Virginia stared down at the half-filled trunk with disgust. She prided herself on efficiency, but tonight she began to wonder if old age wasn’t slowing her down at last.

  “I’m only thirty-five,” she said, mentally reminding herself that her mother had given birth to her at the same age. After six other children, her inner demons added, and she died eight years later, a month behind her father.

  Virginia closed her eyes tightly, hoping to dispel the painful memories clouding her thinking. She would berate herself later, after she left Franklin. She planned to make an early morning steamer to New Orleans and there was half a room to pack.

  With renewed energy, Virginia began unfolding and refolding the wool sweaters long hidden in the back of her cedar armoire. Before she placed them in her steamer trunk, Virginia inhaled their musky scent. They smelled of home, of a simpler time when keeping house for Jess at their meager farmhouse was her only concern.

  If only she hadn’t come to Franklin, then perhaps she would have married again. If only James loved her as much as she loved him.

  “What if? What if?” Virginia grumbled to the four walls. “A person could die wondering.”

  Virginia felt like crying — she knew it would probably do her good — but she refused to give in to the weak emotion. She was tired of crying; fed up with heartache. Let the balladeers sing their mournful songs of lost love and their “bonnies” back in Ireland, Virginia would have none of it.

  She should be happy, Virginia thought as she threw the sweater into the trunk, not caring that the sweater unfolded into a ball. Her departure had been inevitable, ever since she first recognized her painful symptoms of unrequited love. After ten years and one thousand attempts at leaving, Virginia was finally breaking free. At last she would be rid of watching and longing for James Richardson, and move ahead with her life.

  Folding her arms protectively across her chest, Virginia straightened. John Teele spent months sitting next to her at Mass until she made it clear she wasn’t interested. Peter McArthur always brightened at her arrival in the Market. Perhaps she would remarry. New Orleans was full of Irishmen fleeing the recent crop failures. She didn’t need James Richardson with his strong broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes and wispy blond curls. She would forget him and the feel of his eager lips on hers and his large hands pulling their bodies closer. She would forget everything.

  Virginia sighed and collapsed on her bed. Forget the best ten years of her life?

  The conflict raging inside her quickly dissipated when Virginia heard the neighboring door slam. James’ knock was anything but discreet.

  “Virginia,” he practically shouted. “May I have a word with you?”

  Virginia nonchalantly opened the door, poised stubbornly to reject any lovesick emotions she might incur over the sight of him. But her best intentions were powerless against his handsome trim figure gracing her threshold.

  James also appeared taken aback at their meeting. The force of his earlier words lessened as he repeated, “I must speak with you.”

  “Of course, sir,” Virginia answered, averting the studious gaze of his azure eyes while her hands were planted resolutely on her hips.

  “Damn it, Gin,” James said, his fever returning, “stop calling me sir.”

  Virginia stood quietly in the doorway, while James took the opportunity to enter the room and examine the trunk. “Are you leaving us?” James’ question sounded incredulous.

  “I’m taking the Carnaval into New Orleans at sunrise tomorrow.”

  When James looked up, his concern was evident. “You must not leave on account of my indiscretion.”

  “I am as much to blame as you...”

  “Nonsense, this business with Amanda has strained our emotions.”

  For several moments, neither one spoke and Virginia could hear the cicadas outside her window announcing the onset of darkness. “I must go,” she finally said. “I have done my service to this family. Amanda is now grown and married and it’s time I did the same.”

  James’ eyes widened. “You married? To whom?”

  Virginia instantly wished she could retract her words. They were, after all, just words. There was no one at the present time she could call an interested suitor. Any more discussion on the subject and she would only embarrass herself.

  “There have been interests,” was all she said, quickly adding, “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate a reference.”

  James stared transfixed. “Of course. But is there nothing I can do or say?”

  “No sir.” Virginia folded her arms against her chest. “I am determined to leave.”

  For the second time that week, James felt his once secure world slipping away beneath his feet. First Amanda and now Virginia. Tomorrow evening he would be dining alone in a room that once nightly carried the lilting laughter of two very precious women.

  Feeling his chest tighten, James sat down on the edge of Virginia’s bed. He recognized the familiar heartache — he had learned to live with the unrelenting pain for the past ten years. But he had survived, thanks to the constant nursing given by two attentive women. They had been his strength during the darkest times of his life, unselfishly abandoning their own needs for his. And within the past three days he had sent them both away.

  “Perhaps you will grant me one wish,” James said quietly.

  Virginia unfolded her arms cautiously. “Yes?”

  “Allow me a few weeks. I would prefer that you had a situation to go to in New Orleans, instead of entering that city blind. Plus, you would be doing me a favor by staying with me until I can straighten out my problems with Amanda.”

  Virginia sat down on the bed an arm’s length away, a look of defeat on her face. James began to hope he could stall her. “I will write to my associates in New Orleans and inquire about work. You must let me help you, even if it is only to secure proper employment.”

  Virginia sat silent, staring blankly across the room as if incapable of saying no to him. She had always been like this, faithful and obedient to his every need, despite her stubborn arguments. God, how would he ever live without her?

  Her ruddy pinkish complexion glowed softly as the rays of the setting sun painted her proud high cheekbones with its brilliance. Like so many other occasions, Virginia’s simple, unaided beauty astonished James. Unlike his wife, whose exquisite countenance was breathtaking, Virginia’s attractiveness moved him passionately. James had adored his wife; he could fervently love Virginia.

  Without conscious thought, James moved a loose curl away from Virginia’s face. As if instinctively, Virginia placed her hand on his and pressed it tightly against her cheek. Her skin felt warm and alive and incredibly accessible. His body responded in ways he hadn’t thought possible after so many years, his mind reeling. If he could only kiss her one more time like they had that morning. If only he could feel her pressed against him.

  James released his hand and bolted upright. “Then it’s all settled,” he announced, trying not to meet her eyes. “A few weeks?”

  “Yes, James,” Virginia answered, not looking up.

  “Good, in the meantime I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” And do my best to keep you from leaving.

  James hesitated at the threshold. “I must go out to the plantation tonight. Word has it that Henry’s been beating a slave again.”

  This time Virginia looked up. “I’ve never trusted him.”

&nbs
p; “So you’ve always said.” James watched the sunset turn her emerald eyes various shades of green.

  “There are rumors in town that he’s gambled a small fortune away and there have been threats on his life,” Virginia continued. “A desperate man is apt to do desperate things.”

  James nodded. He had heard the stories as well. Plus Tanner had asked for a sizable advance on his salary several days prior, one he did not approve. “After I deal with Amanda, I shall hire a new overseer.”

  “Thank you,” Virginia said softly. “I don’t know why, but I really dislike that man.”

  Tanner checked his pocketwatch for the third time, but Katherine Blanchard would not get the hint. He had wined and dined her, made love to the little princess, now why wouldn’t she leave?

  Tanner imagined he had seen the last of the Blanchard girl, after that wild carriage ride when he had stolen her innocence. She had retreated sobbing to the side of the carriage on the ride home, refusing to talk to him. Then she appeared that morning at his doorstep claiming to be in love.

  Katherine had served a purpose, no matter what she had come for. Tanner needed a release, a chance to clear his mind. He knew as well as Katherine that nothing could come from their relationship. She needed a marriage that offered compensation as much as he did.

  The quick roll in the sheets proved a nice respite, but now he needed her gone. If he had to listen to one more story about her fiancée Bernard Mann’s uncanny ability to make thousands from sugar cane, he would physically pitch her into the mud.

  “Bernard Mann is your fiancée?” Tanner asked, as a thought raced through his head.

  “Why yes,” Katherine answered, acting as if they were sitting down to tea, instead of redressing from a tryst.

  “He might be interested in knowing how you spend your afternoons,” Tanner said, slowly twisting a lock of her hair in his fingers.

  Katherine’s eyes grew wide with fright. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  Tears welled up instantly in her eyes. “But why would you do that to me? You know how much I love you. I’ll do anything for you.”