Those words stopped her. If she wasn’t concerned about her own safety, she couldn’t ignore the needs of those who trusted her to look out for them.
Reluctantly she held out her hand. "Are there any bullets in it?"
"It isn’t loaded yet." He placed the little gun in her palm and watched as she studied it, measuring its weight. "It’s called a Sharp’s stingy gun. At close range, it can kill. Peace officers often carry one up their sleeves. It’s easy to conceal."
"Show me how to load it."
From the package he withdrew a small homespun sack containing bullets. Patiently showing her, he handed the gun back to her and watched as she loaded, unloaded, then once more loaded the four-barrel gun without making a single error.
"Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"
She gave him a weak smile. "I’m told I’m a fast learner. Now, show me how to use this."
Placing it in her hand, he showed her the sight, and how to aim. "When you squeeze off a shot, don’t allow your hand to tremble or move. With a small weapon like this, there should be no kick." "Turning her around, he brought his arms around her and placed his hands over hers on the gun. "It should become one smooth motion. Raise the gun like this." He brought her hands up. "Aim." He placed his cheek against hers, studying the gun’s sight.
With his breath warm against her skin, Annalisa felt all her anger dissolving. He had given Thelma perfume. But he had given her something far more important. The means of protecting all the women in this house. While she thrilled to the feel of his strong arms around her, she wondered how he could remain so businesslike, when her heart was doing somersaults. The next thought made her heart sink. Perhaps he had no more feelings for her than he had for the cook.
"Can you see that vase through the sight?"
His voice brought her down to earth. She nodded.
Her hair smelled of rosewater. Even her skin smelled faintly of roses. While she concentrated on his lesson, he lowered his face to her neck. The scent was stronger here. She had probably dabbed a delicate rose perfume between her breasts and at her pulse points. The thought brought a rush of heat that left him sweating. One hour with her, he thought. A chance to press his lips to her throat, to the little cleft between her breasts. One hour in her arms, and he would be free of this terrible tension between them. He could walk away, satisfied, and never look back.
"And then I squeeze the trigger."
"No." Yanking himself back from his fantasy, he ripped the gun from her hand. "Do you want the entire houseful of people to come rushing back to your office? This gun is loaded."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "I wasn’t really going to shoot. Do I look completely ignorant?"
Chase wiped the back of his hand across his brow, and noted that his hand was shaking. What in the hell was happening to him? This irritating woman was making him crazy. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Go through everything I’ve taught you, and I’ll watch from here."
Putting some distance between them so that he could remain dispassionate, he watched as Annalisa brought the gun up slowly, aimed, pretended to shoot, then unloaded the gun.
"Tomorrow, if you can find a very private place, you might want to try squeezing off a couple of shots just to see how it feels."
She nodded.
"Now you need to decide where to keep it," Chase said, still feeling a little tremor in his hands.
"I have this little purse," she said, lifting a small beaded pouch from beneath the waist of her skirt. "It holds small items like my key, a watch." Packing the little gun inside, she gave him a smile. "No one can ever see it beneath these voluminous skirts. And if I have a pocket in some of my skirts, I can just hide it there."
"Good." He needed a drink. His nerves were strung taut. "Just be sure you always have it with you. Loaded."
Annalisa heard the underlying thread of steel in his voice. He was a complex man, one minute laughing and teasing her, the next angry and gruff. She was weary of trying to understand him.
"If you’ll give me the bill of lading, I’ll go over it now and pay you what I owe you."
Reaching into his pocket he produced a paper and watched as she calmly walked to her desk and went over each item.
He took the chair across from her desk and watched her through narrowed eyes. She was an amazing woman. Quite capable of learning the intricacies of handling a gun, then just as smoothly deciphering a bill of lading. As if she’d been doing both all her life.
Looking up, she said, "Everything is in order." She reached for the strongbox, counted out his cash, and replaced the box in a bottom drawer.
"It might be a good idea to keep that money in a different place each night."
She thought about that for a moment and nodded. "Good idea." Crossing to the cabinet that held her liquor, she placed the box on a back shelf. "Would you care for that whiskey now?"
When he accepted it, he was glad to see that his hand was steady. He downed it in two gulps, then made for the door. "I have a card game waiting in the parlor. As usual, Miss Montgomery, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you."
* * *
The doors to the private parlor were closed against the sounds of activity going on in the big house. Hattie Lee stationed a maid to see to the card players’ drinks. Annalisa positioned a comfortable chair in a corner of the room where she could sit whenever her foot ached, or if she tired of unobtrusively watching the poker game.
While the men concentrated on their cards, discarded, grumbled, occasionally swore, she discovered that she liked being here. As she had on the riverboat, she realized that she enjoyed the rich smell of tobacco, the low rumble of masculine voices, the swish of cards, the long silences. The men were so engrossed in their cards they barely noticed her as she moved among them, watching, learning the rules, digesting the skill of the game.
Chase was a good poker player. That fact surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to be. She’d thought that he would often have to rely on cheating to win. The fact was, she never once saw him resort to "changing his luck."
While the cards were being shuffled, one of the players pulled a cigar from his pocket. Annalisa reached a lighted taper to the tip.
Surreptitiously Chase watched her, wishing she were standing beside him. He could still recall the delicate rose fragrance that clung to her hair and skin. He wondered if she had any idea just how beautiful she was. Though most of the men were absorbed in the card game, he had seen them occasionally glance her way admiringly. She was proving to be too much distraction for him. Yet he was oddly pleased that she’d chosen to stay here. It was a pleasant feeling to have her moving about the room, lighting a cigar, refilling a drink.
"The Tyler plantation has been sold for back taxes," Edmond Lafourcade announced dryly.
It was one of the most beautiful farms in the area, with gently rolling hills, a creek meandering through acres of woods, and a sprawling house that had been home to three generations.
"When?"
It was Chase’s voice, Annalisa knew without glancing up. She blew out the flame and dropped the smoking taper on a tray of empty glasses.
"This morning."
"I didn’t see any notice in the paper." A former Confederate colonel ignored the cards dealt to him and turned his head to stare at the mayor-elect.
Lafourcade shrugged. "They were probably happy to find a buyer."
"At ten cents on the dollar," the colonel sneered. "There were probably a hundred buyers waiting in line like vultures."
"Ten cents is better than nothing," Lafourcade muttered. "Without a buyer the land would have been seized by the government. And the Tyler family would have been left with nothing."
"Who was the buyer?"
Lafourcade picked up his cards and calmly discarded two. Glancing around the table he said, "An industrialist from the East. Made his money in firearms, I believe."
"Damned carpetbaggers." The colonel’s fury was obviously shared by several at the table,
who scowled as they picked up their cards. "When will it ever end? When will we be allowed to pick up the pieces of our lives and put this war behind us?"
Annalisa glanced at Chase, who seemed deep in concentration over the hand dealt. How could he calmly go on playing a game while the future of an entire family had just been shattered? Had he no heart, no feelings? Damn him, she thought furiously. Damn all of them.
Feeling suddenly too overcome to stay and quietly watch a meaningless game, Annalisa let herself out of the parlor. As she closed the door and turned, she nearly collided with Nate Blackwell.
"Miss Montgomery." He caught her arm. "I’m sorry. Did I startle you?"
"Just a little. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking." She glanced around and realized that they were alone in the large sitting room. What a strange, lonely man he was. How long had he been there, all alone, listening to the drone of conversation in the parlor?
"Would you join me in a glass of sherry?" Nate asked.
Annalisa thought she detected a note of desperation about him. She, too, was feeling alone and bereft. What she needed was the company of someone sensitive, someone cultured. "I’d like that."
Within minutes a maid returned with a crystal decanter filled with ruby liquid and two stemmed glasses. After a tentative sip, Annalisa decided she rather liked the sweet taste.
They sat down together on a settee of deep forest green, a stunning contrast to her gold gown and lush auburn hair. Nate Blackwell found himself completely entranced by her artless beauty.
"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Blackwell."
He gave her a gentle smile. "I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. Before the war I managed the family plantation. It was a lovely, peaceful life. We had whole sections planted in cotton, as far as the eye could see, as well as corn, wheat, barley. In addition we had one of the finest dairy herds around."
She studied the pale blue eyes that lit for a brief moment, then seemed to die once more.
"Were you a soldier?" she asked.
"During the war practically everyone was a soldier." He spoke as if she were an addled child. She berated herself for her ignorance. Only those sheltered in a convent had been spared the fighting.
"Did you have a commission?"
He nodded. "I was a captain."
"I’ll bet you looked fine in your uniform."
He laughed then, the first time she’d heard him genuinely laugh. It was rich and deep and joyous. "I’d forgotten until just this minute." He laughed again, then explained. "Someone had taken the wrong measurements. My pants were too short, the jacket too long. There was no time to make the necessary alterations. It was a comedy of errors. Riding out with my company I looked ridiculous, like a mock soldier in a silly operetta."
She studied this tall, handsome man and couldn’t imagine how he could ever look anything but wonderful. "You may say that, but I’m sure you looked quite noble."
He wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye and refilled their glasses. "My dear Miss Montgomery. How good it is to be with you. You make it so easy to talk and laugh. With you, one could almost forget there ever was that hell we called the war."
"I’m glad." She lifted her glass and took another sip of sherry, feeling calmer and warmer herself. With a gentleman like Nate Blackwell, she could almost forget that there were people losing their ancestral homes to men who were willing to take advantage of the misfortunes of war.
When the doors to the parlor opened and the card players emerged, Annalisa and Nate were still engaged in lively conversation. She was shocked to realize that it was long past midnight.
As the maids scurried about seeking the gentlemen’s hats, Chase paused in the doorway of the parlor, watching them.
Nate Blackwell emptied his drink and stood, catching Annalisa’s hand in his. "Miss Montgomery. This has been one of the most pleasant evenings I can ever remember. Thank you for the pleasure of your company. I hope we can do this again sometime."
Out of the corner of her eye, Annalisa saw Chase stiffen. While Nate continued holding her hand, she gave him a bright smile. "The pleasure was mine, Mr. Blackwell. I enjoyed being in the company of a gentleman. I hope you’ll come by often."
Brushing his lips lightly over her hand, he turned and strode out the door.
As Chase stepped closer, she asked, "Did you win?’
"No."
"Oh, well," she said lightly. "I suppose as a professional gambler you’ve already learned that you can’t always win."
His voice had a hard edge. "I guess that’s one lesson I haven’t yet learned. I go into every game fully expecting to win."
As he accepted his hat from a smiling maid, he turned and gave Annalisa a final lingering look. His eyes, she noted, were as hard as granite.
Chapter Twelve
Within days, Annalisa mastered the art of aiming and shooting the little gun. Though she still resented the need for it, she no longer felt awkward carrying it on her person. Concealed in her pocket, it became just another accessory, like the lace-edged handkerchiefs and the small gold watch. When she wore the little purse tied at her waist, the gun rested inside it, along with the key to the strongbox.
Several times a week Annalisa and Hattie Lee took the receipts to the bank in Jackson Square. In their elegant carriage, Hattie Lee wore an ornate dress of blue crepe de Chine and a hat with blue-dyed ostrich plumes. She carried a matching ruffled parasol against the broiling sun while Annalisa drove the team.
"You shouldn’t let the sun get at your skin like that," Hattie Lee complained. "Proper white ladies would never allow their skin to get that dark."
Annalisa had tied her hair back in a decorated hair net. Her businesslike skirt was navy drill, the hem brushing the tops of her shoes. Her blouse, of pale ivory grenadine, had an open, latticework design on the long full sleeves, allowing the breeze to cool her skin.
"It doesn’t matter then, does it? Since I’m not a proper lady."
The edge to her voice alerted Hattie Lee. "Has someone insulted you?"
Annalisa thought of Chase’s comment that day at the river. Wasn’t her reputation already tarnished by her association with Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure?
"No one needs to tell me what I am, Hattie Lee."
The black woman touched her arm. When Annalisa turned her head, she saw a flash of temper in those usually placid dark eyes.
"You hold your head up, child. You’re as good as anyone in this town. And better’n some."
Annalisa stiffened her spine. "Don’t worry, Hattie Lee. I don’t mind what they think."
At the bank, the black woman waited in the carriage while Annalisa took the sack of money inside. A portly man whose stomach bulged over his waistband hurried forward to relieve her of her burden. His eyes were little slits behind thick, wire-rimmed glasses.
"Miss Montgomery. How are you today?"
"Fine, Mr. Willis. And you and Mrs. Willis?"
"Couldn’t be better." Leading the way to his little cubicle, Jasper Willis began to count out the money. When he was finished, he made out a slip and handed it to Annalisa to sign.
"I heard about the Tyler plantation," Annalisa said, handing the pen and paper back to him.
"Yes. Sad thing, wasn’t it? But at least they were able to realize a little money on the sale."
"Was there enough left over for a fresh start?"
"Good heavens, Miss Montgomery. They hadn’t paid a cent in taxes since the start of the war."
"I understand Mr. Tyler was killed at Vicksburg. It must have been nearly impossible for his widow and young children to maintain their plantation without him. I’m not surprised they couldn’t afford the taxes."
"No one is above the law," the banker said mechanically, as if he’d had to deal with this question before.
"Who would have owned their house if they hadn’t found a buyer?"
He blinked. "The bank." He busied himself stacking the money and marking it before placing it in the safe. "Wh
ile Jonathon Tyler was away at war he borrowed heavily to pay the servants’ wages so they wouldn’t run off and leave his family alone."
She watched the fat little man as he wet his fingers and began counting another pile of money. It was obvious that he loved his work.
"Thank you, Mr. Willis. Good day."
He never bothered to look up from the stacks of currency. "Good day to you, Miss Montgomery."
Seeing the tight, angry line of Annalisa’s mouth as she exited the bank, Hattie Lee asked, "What’s got you so mad, child?"
"Life," she said, pulling herself into the seat of the carriage. Flicking the reins, she watched the parade of carts and carriages, shopkeepers and sailors making the square a riot of sight, sound, and color. "It just doesn’t seem fair that the Tylers should have to sell land that has been in their family for generations just because they can’t pay the taxes."
Hattie Lee waved at a pretty woman selling fruit at a stand. "No one ever said life was fair."
Annalisa turned to the woman who was her friend. "Mr. Tyler gave his life for the people of this state. I think they should be willing to give something in return."
Hattie Lee gave a sigh of defeat. "It’s too late. I heard that the Tyler family has gone to stay with relatives in South Carolina."
"It may be too late to help the Tylers, but I can’t believe we’ll all just sit by and watch it happen again and again."
"What can we do about it, child?"
She gritted her teeth. "I don’t know. I guess that’s what makes me so angry. I feel so helpless."
Hattie Lee touched her arm. "Let me off here. I need a few things at several of the shops. Where will I find you when I’m through?"
Annalisa glanced at the French Market. "I’ll be at the Café Du Monde."
At the French Market, Annalisa handed her team over to a young black boy and inhaled the inviting aroma of rich strong coffee and beignets. Instantly her thoughts flew to Chase. She’d heard that he’d left town again. She wondered what drove a man to spend his whole life traveling from one part of the country to another. Some of it was business, she knew. The goods he bought and sold came from all over the world. But a large part of it was probably his need for adventure. Chase Masters wouldn’t be the kind of man who would ever be willing to settle down in one place. Or be faithful to one woman.
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