by Jackie Ivie
“Are we speaking of the same man here?” Linna asked.
Dominique’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?” she asked.
“My husband. Cordean Raoul Larket. You make him sound like some treasure that any woman would covet. I know the truth, too, lady, and he’s a miserable, contemptible, low-down, lying....” she stopped for breath. “Why if I had access to a weapon, I’d make certain he knew exactly what I think of him!”
The other woman’s mouth dropped open and she stared. Linna stared right back.
“You don’t deserve him,” she gasped.
“No doubt,” Linna agreed.
“You don’t love him?”
“I didn’t say that.” Damn it, Linna! You’re trying to get this woman on your side! What made her admit to such a thing?
“You do love him then.”
“I didn’t say that either,” Linna replied, picking at the coverlet they’d given her. It had the same fleur de leis pattern as the ceiling, she noticed.
“Well, do you or don’t you?”
“Does she, or doesn’t she, what?” Cord asked from the doorway.
Linna looked across at him, felt her entire body flood with heat and knew she didn’t have to say a word. If Dominique was watching, she could see the truth for herself. Anyone with eyes could. She loved him desperately and completely and couldn’t even hide it when it really mattered.
Some heartless creature you are, she told herself, then gasped in surprise as the baby moved within her.
Cord was beside her instantly, kneeling at the bedside and looking at her with such concern in those green eyes, Linna nearly clasped a hand to her bosom exactly as Becky had.
“What is it? The babe?”
“It moved. Oh, Cord...it moved.” Linna’s eyes were wide as she met his. Neither heard the door shutting.
“Cease calling my daughter it, Madame.” He grinned then, taking the edge off his words, and Linna’s heart caught in her throat. At least, it felt that way.
You’re a dead, emotionless, hollow shell! She cried it to herself, but lost the pledge the moment he lifted his hand.
“May I?” he asked, his palm hovering above the swell that was their child.
“It isn’t moving anymore,” she answered.
“She isn’t moving anymore,” he corrected, “and I don’t care. I just want to touch her. I want her to know I’m here. Please, Linna, just a small touch?”
She lifted her hands to his and brought his to the child, and held it there. Linna had never seen anything like the look on his face. She wondered if anyone had. If he’d been handsome before, it was an understatement as his eyes widened, lit from within by some unearthly wonder. He molded his palm along the baby, his eyes never leaving hers.
I love you. She formed the words in her mind and watched him shake his head as if she’d actually said them, and he didn’t want to hear.
“I can’t feel anything,” he whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Why are we traveling through the night again?” Linna asked.
“Because it’s cooler, more comfortable, and I have to be there in the morning. Same reasons I gave you about an hour ago.”
“It’s not more comfortable.” Linna couldn’t see what look Cord gave her, and she didn’t care. She tried to find a pleasant spot on the gunny-sack she was atop. “And why are we atop baggage?”
“I’m atop baggage. You’re atop bags of wheat. World of difference. It could be worse.”
“Would you two please cease arguing?” Simons asked, from his perch in the driver seat.
Linna opened her mouth to answer him, but Cord forestalled her. “Pay more attention to the road and less to driving on the brush on the sides, and mayhap we’d be able to sleep. Sleeping isn’t conducive to arguing. Have you thought of that?”
Linna could tell he hadn’t had any rest. He sounded as grouchy and tired as she felt, and she’d spent hours asleep in Madame Dominique’s basement apartment.
“If I hadn’t just seen the man to put you to shame, Monsieur Larket, let me assure you, I’d take full offense to your attitude. You can mark my words.”
Linna worked at the bag of wheat again. A large lump had begun right against her right hip. If she didn’t get it loosened up, it would settle into an enormous mass that would make her life miserable, like the last bag she’d tried to rest against had.
“Please say it isn’t so,” Cord said, then paused. “I may never live it down if word gets out.”
“What?” came Simons’ answer.
“That you’ve found a man to best me.”
“As little attention as you pay me? Please. You should count yourself lucky I still do your bidding.”
“Driving through every rut? You call that my bidding?”
“Madame Larket? You have my permission to mark him. Hard. If you need my help, just speak up,” Simons answered.
Linna chuckled. She hadn’t known Simons had this side to him. Of course, he’d been in competition with her before, and now, all of a sudden, he wasn’t.
“I think he’s serious, Cord...damn it!” Linna’s curse came as the bottom of her wheat sack developed a sink-hole, dropping her unawares. She caught herself with her elbows and hauled herself back up.
“No need for such language, Madame, although I did see him first. He’s a large fellow, too. Well-muscled. A bit like our Cord, there. You never thought that would happen, did you mon ami?”
“Our Cord?” Cord asked.
“Figure of speech.” Linna said it between clenched teeth as she maneuvered herself onto another gunny sack. She arranged her superfine, wool skirt about her ankles, shutting out the chill up her legs as she tried to find a secure spot. The black wool outfit was living up to its name as a traveling ensemble after all, she decided. It didn’t wrinkle, it was durable enough for rough conditions, and it was warm. All of which she must have been thinking when she selected it and had it sewn. She yawned and worked her way into a form-fitting enclosure.
“Are you tossing me over, Simons?” Cord asked with what sounded like complete seriousness.
“As I never had you, that’s a stupid question.”
“So, are you?” Cord asked, again.
“You’re married. You have no right to ask such a thing.”
Cord growled. “For the love of—you even react like a woman! I’m trying to find out how much longer I have to put up with you, and you turn it into a love-spat. Find a smoother spot to drive, too, or I’m pitching you over the side and taking over the reins.”
“Well!” Simons replied.
Linna slapped a hand to her mouth to stop the amusement.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Madame. I hadn’t the luxury of a good nap. I’ve been up for two, perhaps three days running, and I’m about out of patience.”
“Oh, darlings,” Simons called out cheerfully, “there appears to be a stretch of bridge ahead. If I were you, I’d brace myself.”
“Two...or three days?” she asked.
“And nights. Them, too.” Cord finally answered, in that low tone of his.
Linna couldn’t reply. She was trying to squelch the shivers running her back and down her arms. If she dared speak, he’d know how much he affected her. That would be too embarrassing, and she’d suffered enough of that already. It isn’t all my fault, she told herself. The man had a voice to match his physique, which was unfair, but not unexpected. It affected every woman, not just her. She didn’t have to guess. She already had the proof from Dominique.
It also had something to do with the fact that it was dark, the wagon wasn’t comfortable, and she had only the stimuli of sound.
“I hate to intercede here, but I must protest to someone at this point,” Simons called out. “You’re neither stimulating nor scintillating company in the best of times, mon ami. Your innuendoes are rapidly palling, let me tell you.”
“Then cease listening to them.”
Simons snorted. “I am two, m
aybe three feet above you, Monsieur Larket. Barring this barely-seen path called a road, there is nothing else to keep my interest. Speaking of which, at least be interesting. I would say she’s winning.”
“There are other hirelings,” Cord growled out.
“As you continually point out. I know.”
Linna listened to the rapid-fire exchange between the two men, and smiled to herself.
“Besides which, I don’t recall hiring you. You hired yourself.”
“When one is of small stature in this world, one learns the benefit of being in the shadow of a large man. I had to hire myself. You weren’t going to do it.”
“I can still toss you, Simons,” Cord threatened.
“I don’t suppose you’ve noticed, mon magnifique man, but the road is vacant this time of the night, and drivers look a bit scarce. I also seriously doubt, if you found another driver here in the wilds, that he would put up with such bon mots as you two exchange.”
“Bon mots?” Cord asked.
“Verbal repartee. Fencing with words. She’s better at it. Admit it, lick your wounds and go on, like a big boy.”
“I know what bon mots are, but I thought you wanted us to cease arguing, Simons. Make up your mind.”
“We are at the bridge, Monsieur. Please try and remember that I did warn you.”
Linna was launched forward, as the wheels caught the edge of wooden planking. She hadn’t any time to cry out as Cord’s arms snaked about her, pulling her back into the cart.
“Simons! As God is my witness, I’m going to–”
“No,” Linna put her palm to his mouth to stop him. “It’s not his fault, Cord. You made him drive in the dark. You made us ride in the dark.”
“I didn’t have another choice.”
“This was a choice?” Linna asked.
“Well. That was pleasant. Non? I sincerely hope you’re happy with your travel arrangements,” Simons said from just above her head.
“Shut up and drive. I’ll let you know when to listen and what to listen to. You got that?”
“You know, Monsieur Larket, you’ve the manners of a boar pig in rut. No, I shame them without cause. You resemble more—”
“Shut up, Simons!” Cord answered.
Linna bumped her head against his chest as the sound reverberated through him. Then she giggled. It hadn’t been planned, but he was much more secure-feeling than the wheat sacks. Warmer, too. She snuggled onto him, trying to find a comfortable spot in his lap. He wasn’t helping her, but he wasn’t hindering her either. Linna groped about with her hands.
Cord was sprawled across a myriad of boxes and crates, none of which felt comfortable to her. He had his legs slightly bent, his arms about her, and his head pillowed against a bundle of some kind.
“Looking for something?” he growled at her ear.
“Just checking,” she answered.
“For what? Broken bones? If that’s the case, start with your own body.”
“You’re never going to be able to sleep like this, Cord,” she observed.
“You’d be surprised at how I can sleep, Madame.”
“But you’re not even lying down!”
“I slept upright for years. Isn’t that right, Simons?”
“Don’t ask me to help you at this stage. I’m still trying to keep the wagon ride smooth so I don’t have to eat dust,” Simons replied.
“You slept upright?” Linna asked. “Why?”
“Prone positions invite trouble. I don’t like trouble.”
Linna frowned. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Hush and go to sleep. We haven’t much time before sunrise.”
“You need sleep more than me.”
“I’m not going to get any sleep with you where you are. Trust me. Leaves too much to my imagination.”
Linna smiled and snuggled closer. She knew what he meant. His body wasn’t soft. It was hard and masculine. All of it. Everywhere. She gasped as his rod probed through her skirts and into her backside.
“Cord,” she whispered his name in a threatening tone through her teeth.
“What?”
“You know very well what.”
He sighed. She moved with it. It felt wonderful.
“It’s your fault,” he complained.
“Right. Try again,” she answered.
“You have the body of my dreams, chestnut hair just made to run my fingers through, perfectly formed lips just waiting for my kisses—”
“Cord Larket!” Linna burst out.
He sighed again. “I would have much rather slept beside you in Dominique’s bed. Much better accommodations. Much better.”
“Is that where you went?” Simons asked.
“Haven’t you anything better to do than eavesdrop?” Cord asked.
“Eavesdrop? When you’re right behind my back and speaking loudly enough for an Irish wake? Tiens! He’s all yours, Madame. I wash my hands of him.”
“Was it really my fault?” Linna asked.
“Yes and no,” Cord answered.
“Tell her the truth. Yes, it’s her fault. There I was, all set to accompany the little lady to her new home, in the comfort of a Larroquette wagon and what happens? She disappears. He disappears. No one tells me anything. I am left with no choice but to get back out and wait. And for what, I ask? To go fetch another ride. And given no additional funds with which to secure comfort. Well, you got what you asked for. A ride.”
“I would have had to take a wagon back anyway, Linna, so it’s not all your fault.”
“What did I do?”
“Tried a little stunt like walking off the ship by yourself.”
“I had to. No one else was going to do it.”
“What did you think I sent Simons for? Company?”
“No.” She didn’t have another answer. Then again, if she had ridden in the earlier wagon, she’d have missed seeing the beatific look on his face when she he touched the swell that was their baby. She’d have missed finding out that he belonged to her and only to her. She would have missed the sensation of balancing atop him and feeling every bit of his arousal against her.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” she remarked.
“I know.”
“Then try sleeping...and stop that!” She slapped at the hand that was meandering up her ribs to a spot below her bosom.
“You probably shouldn’t stay where you are much longer. I might be asking Simons to look for a nice place to stop for a spell. Then again, there might be a bit of something to the movement of this wagon.”
Simons snorted above them. Linna went hot with the blush.
“Yes, I can see there would be, at that.” He nuzzled his nose against her throat. “Nice. Very nice.”
“Would you two please stop that and argue or something?” Simons asked.
~ ~ ~
The sun was just peeking over the tree-lined drive when Linna moved against his shoulder. Cord flexed his hand to get feeling back. He’d lost it because she’d snuggled her little nose against the curve of his neck, and he’d been so overcome with how it felt, he didn’t want to move.
“Cord?”
She rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked exactly like a newly awakened nymph should. It was hard to believe her a married woman, accompanying her husband and carrying their child. It truly was.
“Good morn, love,” he whispered and felt her stiffen. He wondered why.
“What’s that?” she asked and pointed.
Plantation Larroque boasted several outbuildings, all freshly white-washed, a tree-lined circular drive, and a fourteen room mansion, fronted by Grecian-inspired porticos supporting both upper and lower verandahs. It was also bathed with the pink and yellow tint of sunrise, making the white look pearlescent. It had taken his breath when he first saw it, and it still did.
“The Marquis of Larroquette’s mansion. You like it?”
“It’s—we don’t live there, do we?”
He lifted his eyebro
ws at her upturned face. “No. I’m a field hand. I live in a shack around back.”
She sighed. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “You’ll get used to it.”
They drove between the ornate gates before turning sharply to the right. There was a rutted road for use by the hired help. Cord braced himself for the rough road.
“It sure is beautiful,” she whispered.
He almost gave into the inclination and snatched the lips she’d turned to him, but held himself back. He looked toward the house instead. “The house was completed in 1782, or thereabouts. It took more than ten years. Something about importing the marble and teakwood.”
“Marble?”
“Lower floors are parquet marble. Expensive in this part of the world.”
“Is the marquis very rich?”
“Very,” he answered.
She sighed, apparently lost in thought. Cord was grateful he was already stiffened in every muscle as he watched her.
“It’s such a shame you’re not related.”
“Why?”
“It...just is,” she replied.
He waited for more answer but didn’t get one. He let his pent-up breath out slowly. “The fourth marquis was gifted with foresight. Arrogant bugger. Aristocratic. Large nose. Small stature. Made up for all of that with smarts. He avoided all that unpleasantness taking place in his own country by moving his family here...about fifty years ago.”
“You mean, the revolution?”
“Exactly. He deserted the family estates, moved pack and parcel to this island, and created the plantation before the guillotine even started.”
“How big is it?”
“Larroque? Sizable. A third of the land mass, maybe less. I don’t know for certain.”
