"But I’m not . . . I haven’t . . . Oh, hell." Slapping her hand over her mouth, she looked even more shocked at the word that had issued from her lips.
"Miss Montgomery," he said with feigned dignity. "We’re really going to have to do something about your manners."
Thunder rumbled, low and distant. Annalisa gave a terrified glance at the darkening sky.
"I guess I’ll have to forego my swim. It looks like we’re in for a storm. I think you’d better haul yourself out of that river before you get hit by lightning."
"I will as soon as you leave me alone."
"And miss seeing you as nature intended?" He chuckled, low and deep in his throat.
The sky grew ominously dark. A jagged slice of lightning glimmered, followed by a rumble of thunder that was definitely closer.
Chase held out his hand. "Get out of that water, you little fool, before the storm strikes."
With hands on hips she glared at him. "Not until you turn around."
"Stop giving me that virginal nun act." He stepped close to shore and extended his hand. "Get out of there now."
"When you have the decency to turn around." She hoped her voice rang with at least half of the authority she had always admired in Mother Superior.
With a string of oaths, Chase turned around and took several steps toward the tree, stopping just beyond her pile of clothes. Over his shoulder he sneered, "There. Does this appease your sense of modesty?"
"Barely." Clamoring quickly from the water, she pulled herself up the slippery bank and reached for her underthings. They clung to her wet skin, making it impossible for her to hurry. The more she tried to rush, the more entangled she became in the flimsy clothes. When she had finally pulled her dress over her head, she saw Chase turn toward her. Fumbling with the buttons, she avoided his look.
He was laughing. "Your virtue is intact, Miss Montgomery." Suddenly, his smile was replaced by a look of surprise. "My God. What’s that?" Glancing down, he stared at a pool of blood in the grass by her feet.
Annalisa had stoically tried to ignore the pain in her foot. Her shock at being discovered had made it easy until now. She forced herself to give no indication of her discomfort.
"I stepped on the edge of a submerged rock."
"Sit down."
"I’ll take care of it when I get home."
"Will you stop arguing and sit?" With his hands on her shoulders he urged her down to the grass. With her back against the trunk of the willow, he knelt before her and lifted her foot for his inspection.
Chase swore viciously when he saw that the cut was raw and bleeding profusely. Pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he folded it carefully. Resting her foot on his thigh, he wrapped the cut and tied the cloth firmly to stem the flow of blood.
His touch was firm but gentle. Annalisa hadn’t expected that a man like Chase could be capable of such tenderness. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sensuous feel of his hands on her skin while he worked.
Still holding her foot, he watched her lids slowly flicker open. She had the pale, topaz eyes of a cat. Her hair hung dark and wet on her shoulders. Little tendrils clung to her cheeks and neck.
There was no longer any laughter in his dark eyes. But there was, she noted, a tension there, as well as a softness. His jacket lay in the grass. His cambric shirt was stretched tautly across wide, muscled shoulders. As his hand moved gently over her foot, she watched the muscles of his arms bunch, then relax. She had a fleeting image of those arms holding her, and she felt the beginnings of a flush steal along her throat and cheeks.
They studied each other, while his hands gently caressed her foot, her ankle, her calf.
Chase noticed the way she colored at his touch and felt desire rising within him.
"That’s a wicked cut." Without warning he lifted her foot to his lips.
She gasped, and watched helplessly as he pressed his mouth to her instep, her heel, her toes.
"Such tiny feet," he murmured. He seemed to measure the size of her foot against his big hands. Slowly, almost hypnotically, he moved his hand along her leg. "Such a shapely leg." He felt her little tremor as his hand continued its journey until his fingertips encountered the lace edge of her bloomers. "So many clothes." He lowered her foot again to his thigh, allowing it to rest there gently while he studied her cheeks, now bright red. "Why do women have to wear so many clothes?"
"To retain their virtue," she said quickly. Hearing his low rumble of laughter, she quickly lowered her gaze and felt her face burn.
"Come along. Miss Virtue," he said, lifting her into his arms after he had pulled on his jacket. "You can’t walk on that foot."
"Chase." For a moment, she thought about protesting. After all, she could certainly walk as far as the house. But the thought of being carried in his arms was exciting. The protest died on her lips. Bringing her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his collar and sighed as he cradled her against his chest.
He carried her through the tall grass of the meadow as effortlessly as if she were one of his bolts of silk or satin. When they reached the rolling lawn of her house, his strides slowed, as if he were as unwilling as she for this moment to end.
"I want you to have Doctor Lynch take a look at your foot," he said firmly.
"All right. If you think so." Her voice, muffled against his throat, sent shock waves through his system.
"I’ll look in on you later to see how you’re feeling."
She chuckled, low and deep. Again he felt the ripples of pleasure deep inside. "Now you’re treating me like a child."
He turned his head slightly to look at her. Their lips were almost touching. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m well aware that you’re no child. You’re a woman." His lips hovered over hers; their breath mingled. "Very much a woman."
Dark eyes stared into warm amber. The arms holding her tightened. She felt her heart stop before his lips brushed hers. She lost all thought. She forgot to breathe.
His lips were warm and firm, taking from her more than she’d ever known she had. How was it possible for her blood to heat at his simplest touch? Her pulse hammered in her temples as her fingers twined in his hair. Held against his chest, she could feel his heartbeat inside her. Its erratic pounding matched her own.
"My sweet Lord. What’s happened, child?" Hattie Lee’s voice caused both their heads to swivel sharply.
With easy strides, Chase mounted the steps of the back porch and waited while the black woman held the door. "Annalisa cut her foot on a rock."
"I’ll get the doctor. You take her right up to her bed."
"Hattie Lee. It isn’t anything serious. Really."
Ignoring her, the woman hurried through the kitchen, calling for one of the serving girls, who promptly ran off in search of Dr. Lynch.
While Chase carried Annalisa up two flights of stairs, the women of the house ventured from their rooms and followed. By the time they reached Annalisa’s bedroom on the top floor, the parade of women was strung out along both hallways and the stairs.
Opening the door to her room, Chase paused in the doorway to glance around. Despite the heat of the day, the room was cooled by windows on either side. Cool and elegant. Like the woman who lived here. His gaze was arrested by the tub in the corner, and the luxurious sheepskins. As he lowered her to her bed, his hands brushed satin coverlets. Sensual. He’d just learned one more thing about the mysterious Miss Montgomery. She was far more complicated than the simple convent girl he’d met on a riverboat.
"Thank you, Chase. For everything."
Before he could respond, the women converged on them.
"Chérie. You are wounded, like the little bird. Tell us what happened." Gabrielle stared at Annalisa’s disheveled appearance, the pristine cloth tied about her bare foot.
Thoughts of lying beside Annalisa in the satin-covered bed left Chase with a rush of heat that stunned him. With a grin, he backed away, allowing the women to crowd closer. Annalisa had a final glimpse
of the back of his head as he strode quickly from the room.
Before she had even finished telling them how she had stepped on a rock in the river, Dr. Lynch was there, carefully examining the cut.
"Damnation!" He stripped away the cloth and applied antiseptic, while Annalisa winced. "Clean," he pronounced, applying a fresh dressing. "Chase acted quickly and stopped the blood. I don’t expect any problems with infection."
"What about tonight," Hattie Lee asked matter-of-factly.
"Shoes may be a problem. But if you can find her a pair of comfortable slippers, she’ll do fine. It’s just a cut. Nasty and uncomfortable, but not serious."
"I tried to tell them that, Doctor. I know how busy you are.
He gave her a solemn look. "Never take chances on deep cuts. They did the right thing by sending for me."
While Hattie Lee showed the doctor out, the others crowded around once more.
"How romantic," Delia sighed. "You and Chase Masters swimming together."
"We weren’t swimming together," Annalisa protested hotly. "I was cooling off in the water. He happened to walk by."
"But were you not naked, chérie?" Gabrielle asked, giving a wink to the others.
Annalisa swallowed. "I was. But he was gentleman enough to turn away while I dressed."
"What a shame," Francine said in her haughty tone.
"What did it feel like to be carried in his arms?" Eulalie asked softly. "Is he as strong as he looks?"
"He’s—quite strong." She felt herself blushing again and turned her head. "If you don’t mind, I’d like to rest for a little while before dinner."
"I still think it’s very romantic," Delia persisted. "After all, he wrapped your foot with his own fine handkerchief." Idly picking it up, she noted his monogram.
Snatching it from her hand, Annalisa said, "I’ll have it cleaned for him." At the women’s smiles, she added lamely, "It’s the least I can do."
As the women began walking toward the door, Gabrielle turned back toward the bed. "I think, chérie, you are not as cool to Chase Masters as you pretend."
"I accepted his help because he was the only one available. And he offered his help for the same reason."
The Creole woman gave her a knowing smile, then left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Alone in her room, Annalisa replayed in her mind every word, every touch that had transpired between them. When she thought about his tender kiss, she felt her throat go dry. Would any man’s touch cause her to burn so? she wondered. Or was it only Chase Masters who had such an effect on her?
What was Chase doing along the riverbank at that time of the day? She tried to focus her thoughts, but she was too weary. He had never really explained where he came from, or where he was headed when he encountered her in the river. He had smoothly managed to evade her questions. Chase Masters was a man of mystery.
Twisting his handkerchief around her fingers, lulled by thoughts of his hands gently cradling her foot, she drifted into sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The storm brought relief from the oppressive heat. By dinner time, the house had cooled off and the maids scurried about preparing for their expected guests.
In their rooms, the women bathed and applied perfume, fussed over their hair, and decided on just the right accessories for their gowns. As Annalisa sat at a dressing table arranging her hair, it occurred to her that each evening in this strange house was like a grand party.
By the time their first guests arrived, Annalisa was downstairs in the main parlor wearing her warmest smile.
One of the businessmen from town had reserved a private room for a poker game, which wouldn’t begin until quite late. In the meantime, the crowd of gentlemen swelled until the rooms were filled.
Annalisa had just smoothed over a minor disagreement between the police chief and a local plantation owner and was busy arranging for a special drink for one of their regular clients. Yet she knew the precise moment when Chase Masters arrived. Without looking in his direction, she caught the low murmur of his voice as he greeted the maid at the door. Without looking his way, she knew he was watching her. Slowly, without allowing any emotion to show on her face, she turned and met his look.
Was it possible, she wondered, for a man to touch her with only a glance? Dozens of people separated them, and yet she felt as if they were alone in the room. With her smile carefully in place, she continued to listen to the conversation of the man beside her and nod at all the right moments. But her gaze locked on Chase as he accepted a drink from a tray and spoke to several people nearby. All the while he continued to stare at her.
Was it possible for a heart to beat so rapidly? Had her blood ever heated so quickly before? She felt oddly lightheaded and blamed it on the loss of blood earlier in the day. Moving slowly, she continued to stop and chat, or light a man’s cigar. But each time she looked up, Chase was watching her with absolutely no expression on his darkly handsome face.
It seemed an eternity before they found themselves face to face.
"How’s your foot?"
"Fine. The doctor said it was a clean wound. And he praised your skill."
He shrugged off the compliment. "How can you tolerate wearing a pair of shoes?"
She smiled and lifted the hem of her elegant gold mousseline de soie gown. "Little gold slippers. Hattie Lee found them."
"Very practical." He lifted his gaze to stare solemnly down into her eyes. "But you shouldn’t be walking."
"It doesn’t hurt much. Really."
"Did my shipment arrive?"
She nodded. "Hattie Lee and several maids are unpacking it now. Would you like to come to my office?"
He followed her and frowned when he noticed that she favored one foot. She might pretend it didn’t hurt, but he knew better.
Inside her office, candles had been lighted in wall sconces in anticipation of the business to be conducted. She sat down behind her desk, relieved finally to take the pressure off her aching foot. Indicating a chair, she asked, "Whiskey?"
"No thanks. Business first."
"Cigar?"
He accepted one from the box on her desk and watched her from beneath lowered lids as she held a taper to the tip of the cigar until it caught. It was a pleasant thing, to have a woman cater to his needs. Yet the knowledge that she did this for every man took the edge off his enjoyment.
He leaned back, emitting a stream of rich smoke.
Hattie Lee knocked, then entered. "The shipment has been unpacked and counted. Everything is there." Grinning at Chase, she added, "Thelma sends her thanks. She wanted me to tell you that she’ll be more than happy to do your cooking any time."
Chase returned the smile. "It’s the least I can do to thank her for those beignets and café au lait. Whenever I’m away from here, just the thought of them makes my mouth water."
Hattie Lee chuckled. "Before you leave, Thelma wants you to come back to the kitchen." The chuckle deepened. "She wants you to smell how good your French perfume is on her skin."
"Thanks, Hattie Lee. Tell her I’ll be there."
Annalisa listened to their friendly banter and felt a twinge of jealousy. It was an alien feeling that left her surprised and a little puzzled. Why should she be jealous of the easy camaraderie between Chase and the women of this house? Perhaps because she sensed that she could never share it. There seemed always to be a barrier, a wall between her and Chase. Though he teased her good-naturedly at times, they couldn’t be completely easy with each other. Each of them held something back.
The black woman paused, with her hand on the knob. "I almost forgot. Annalisa, this package is for you. It was in the shipment."
Handing Annalisa a small bundle, Hattie Lee crossed the room and let herself out.
Glancing at Chase, Annalisa stared down at the package on her desk. "What is this?"
"Something I picked up for you. Something you definitely need."
A smile played about her lips. Her words softened with
wonder. "I’ve never had a present before. Is it as nice as Thelma’s?"
He nearly choked on his cigar. "It’s—not that kind of present."
She laughed, a rich, joyous sound. "It doesn’t matter. Just the thought that you’d bring me something is enough." Tearing into the bulky wrap, her fingers encountered something cool and shiny. Her eyes lit and she shook the package until the gift dropped with a clatter onto her desktop.
It was a gun. A very small, very lethal-looking gun. Her smile fled. Her features stiffened. She stared at it, unwilling to touch it.
Seeing the look on her face, Chase berated himself for his clumsiness. How was he to know she would expect perfume like Thelma? Damn his luck! How could he have possibly guessed that she’d never before received a gift? To cover up, he became gruff. "You keep too much money around this house. And you’re all so damned vulnerable. A bunch of helpless women," he said with a trace of scorn.
"Helpless." Her disappointment over the gift manifested itself in anger. "There’s nothing helpless about me. I can take care of myself, Chase Masters."
"Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t even have enough sense to get out of the water after that nasty cut." His voice was harsher than he’d intended.
"If you’ll recall, it was because there was a leering creature preventing me from doing so."
He took in a deep breath and lowered his voice. "I just think you need to protect yourself. You shouldn’t resent this gun. It may come in handy."
She pushed away from the desk. "Resent it? I can’t even bring myself to touch it, let alone use it."
"Damn it." He came around the desk and picked it up, thrusting it into her face. "I want you to be prepared for any danger. There are desperate people around here. Their homes and lands have been destroyed, their future bleak. They’ll do anything, even kill, for money."
"If they’re that desperate, they can have my money," she said in a low note of fury. "But I could never kill them for it."
"You don’t understand. They won’t ask for your money. They’ll kill you first, then help themselves to it." As she walked away he caught her by the arm, forcing her to turn back. "There are a lot of men in this town who are evil. They’d stab their own mother in the heart if the price was good enough. Do you want Hattie Lee and the others to be at the mercy of such animals?"
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