Destiny's Daughter

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "Yet I get the feeling he doesn’t really enjoy it. It is merely something he thinks the other men expect of him. Always, even in bed, he likes to talk about politics. The man never stops talking about it. I think it is his only real passion." Francine’s voice lowered. "Last night he was fretting about the election. Apparently there is some question that the election could be declared invalid. The present mayor refuses to step down and hand over the government to Edmond. He says it would be like turning loose a fox in the henhouse. But Edmond is not too concerned. He claims friends in high places."

  "Very high," Gabrielle said. "Monsieur Montagnet likes also to brag about his political connections."

  At the very mention of Montagnet’s name, Annalisa felt a little shudder.

  Gabrielle went on speaking, unaware of Annalisa’s reaction. "Montagnet said the governor’s influence will be brought to bear in the election. Apparently he has persuaded the governor to declare Lafourcade the winner of the election."

  Annalisa listened to this exchange in silence. She was absolutely astounded that men in such positions of power would discuss matters of state with these women. Relaxed, their guard lowered for the evening, they revealed things as simple as political gossip, and as complex as state secrets.

  When at last the afternoon lessons ended, Annalisa climbed the stairs to her room. Slipping off her silk dressing gown, she climbed between satin sheets and tried to rest. But her mind was whirling with all the things she had heard today.

  In this town, there was a network of men accustomed to power. These were the men who decided the fate of the common citizens of New Orleans. It was obvious that they thought that the women in this house had nothing more on their minds than the moment’s pleasure. But the women, privy to top secret information, enjoyed sharing it among themselves while they lolled about on hazy afternoons.

  As she drifted into sleep, a plan began forming in her mind.

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed, Annalisa worked harder than ever on her skills at seduction. While she moved about the room, charming the men with her attentiveness, she discovered how easy it was to pick up information. With a drink in their hands, the men talked openly about everything that interested them. Bank deals. Political deals. Land deals. Petty gossip. Bits and pieces. When the pieces were fitted together with information gathered from the others, they began to form a picture. She was not at all clear just what she was learning, but Annalisa was determined to find out all she could.

  It was at a poker game that she first heard about Belle Riviere.

  Famous as one of the most beautiful plantations in the area, the house stood on a hilltop overlooking the meandering river. The land, sliced into sections by levees, offered some of the richest soil in the country. Before the war, it had been one of the finest cotton producers in Louisiana. Since the war, it had fallen into disrepair. Suzanne Robichaud and her four sons struggled against all odds to cling to their ancestral land, by planting as much of it as they could harvest, and by offering the rest of the land to tenant farmers who would then pay a percentage of their profits to the landowners. Though they were managing to survive, their debts were mounting.

  "Two cards," Edmond Lafourcade said, discarding.

  Beside him, Charles Montagnet ignored his request. He had been watching Annalisa all evening while she moved unobtrusively around the table, refilling drinks, lighting cigars. His eyes as they watched her were narrowed, calculating. In a gown of jade green, worn off the shoulders to show her creamy skin, she looked as tempting as a ripe peach. He was a man accustomed to all the privileges afforded someone in his position of power. It galled him that a common little whore would deflect his attempt at a liaison. Who did she think she was? His hand tightened into a fist, crumpling the cards he held. Surprised at the force of his fury, he turned his thoughts away from her.

  As the dealer passed the requested cards, Edmond turned to the player on his right. "I think I’ve found a buyer for Belle Riviere." He said it so casually, Annalisa almost missed his comment.

  "Three cards." Charles Montagnet glanced at the cards dealt him and threw down his hand in disgust.

  "One." Chase picked up the card which the dealer tossed, and studied his hand. "I didn’t know Belle Riviere was for sale."

  As Annalisa bent to light a gentleman’s cigar, she heard the underlying anger in Chase’s statement.

  "It isn’t common knowledge," Edmond said in his high-pitched voice. His mustache twitched as he laughed softly. "But everyone knows Madame Robichaud and those brats of hers can’t hang on much longer."

  Annalisa felt a sense of outrage at his laughter. The widow and her sons were symbols of all that was good and noble about this land. Their struggle against insurmountable odds only made their battle all the more dramatic. Feeling a need for fresh air, she walked from the private parlor, unaware that Charles Montagnet was watching her with calculated shrewdness.

  In the hallway outside the door, she found Nate Blackwell leaning disconsolately against the wall. At the sight of her he brightened.

  "Good evening, Mr. Blackwell."

  "Miss Montgomery. You look as beautiful as ever." As he brushed his lips over her hand, she felt some of her anger drain away. It was such a comfort to be in the company of a gentleman for a little while. The villains and rogues, like Edmond Lafourcade and Chase Masters, belonged together in the parlor, locked in a battle that required equal parts of luck and skill.

  "I was hoping you might have time to join me in a glass of sherry." Nate placed her hand on his arm as he led the way to the sitting room.

  She released a little sigh. "I’d like that very much."

  At her summons, a maid hurried in with a tray bearing a crystal decanter and two glasses. As the serving girl left the room, Nate poured their drinks and handed one to Annalisa, who was seated comfortably on a small loveseat. Taking the seat beside her, he touched his glass to hers.

  "To the most beautiful woman in New Orleans," he murmured, staring deeply into her eyes.

  She smiled demurely and fluttered her lashes. What a treat it was to be pampered by a gentleman for a change.

  Hearing a burst of raucous laughter from the parlor, they both glanced up. Annalisa was surprised at how much of the conversation could be heard from this distance. If she were standing just outside the door, she could probably overhear much more.

  "Do you not play cards?" she asked.

  "On occasion." Nate sipped his sherry and continued to study her. "But I much prefer the company of a beautiful woman anytime."

  "Would you like me to call one of my women?"

  She thought he almost blushed. Instantly she regretted her question.

  "No thank you, Annalisa." He touched her hand lightly, allowing his hand to linger there. "You don’t mind if I call you Annalisa?" As she shook her head, he continued, "All of your women pale beside your beauty. It isn’t the solace of their bodies I seek. It’s the sound of an educated woman’s voice. Your voice. The soft drawl I so missed during the war. The light delicate scent you wear, so unlike the heavy French fragrances of most women. For a little while, when I’m with you, I forget my problems. You make me happy just to be alive."

  She was touched by his words and found herself wanting to reach out to this lonely man.

  "I’m glad you find my company enjoyable. I, too, enjoy being with a gentleman." She felt his hand tighten over hers, and wondered why his touch failed to light any fires deep inside her. She was almost disappointed at her lack of response. "I need a friend, Nate."

  "I would be honored if you would consider me your friend."

  He reached over and refilled their glasses. She heard another burst of laughter in the parlor and recognized the low rumble of Chase’s voice. With renewed determination, she concentrated on the man beside her, drawing out Nate’s story of his early life on his father’s plantation. From his narrative, she learned that he had lived a life of genteel aristocracy. His family, consisting of parents, g
randmother, and younger sister, had enjoyed a close and loving relationship.

  Annalisa stared at his eyes while he spoke of those years. He seemed lit by some inner fire. And then, just as suddenly, the light was extinguished. His voice trailed off.

  "What is it, Nate? What is causing you such pain?"

  She felt him go very still. Turning, she placed her hand gently on his arm. "Can’t you speak of it?"

  She saw his mask of composure slip. For that one brief moment, she witnessed the bleakness of his existence. His lips quivered, and she feared he might break down and weep.

  "It’s too painful, Annalisa. I can’t bring myself to speak of it."

  "I’m sorry. Someday, when the pain ceases ..."

  "I don’t believe this pain will ever leave me."

  Feeling a wave of compassion, she brought her arm around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. She felt him choke back a sob.

  Just then the doors to the parlor were thrown open and the men began filing out. Their voices and laughter were a jarring note to the two locked in a tender embrace. When Annalisa looked up, Chase was standing in the doorway watching them. His expression was unreadable. But a little muscle worked in his jaw.

  "Again I’ve kept you from your duties to these men, Annalisa." Nate lifted her hand to his lips, then pressed the small, warm hand firmly between his.

  "I’m glad you did. I hope you’ll come back again soon. I enjoy your visits."

  His eyes bored into hers as if clinging to life itself. "You don’t know what that means to me. Good night."

  He turned and joined a group of men walking to their carriages.

  Inside the card room, she conferred with Hattie Lee, who was directing the maids in cleaning up. Handing Annalisa an envelope, the older woman returned to her duties.

  When Annalisa looked toward the parlor door, Chase was gone. Seeing no one else around, she lifted the hem of her skirts and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward her office. In her hand she carried the night’s receipts, including a percentage of the poker game. It had been a profitable evening.

  As she pushed open the door to her office, she was aware that the candles in the wall sconces had been extinguished. She remembered leaving them burning when she had been in here several hours earlier. The maids had orders to check the candles periodically. It wasn’t possible for all of them to have burned down at the same time.

  Something was very wrong here. Alarmed, she paused in the doorway, then began to back out. But before she could take a step back, a hand shot out of the darkness, nearly lifting her off her feet. The door to her office was kicked shut and locked, and a strong hand clamped over her mouth, causing her scream to die in her throat.

  She was pulled roughly against a man’s tall frame. While she tried to twist free, the stiff collar of his jacket pressed against her cheek as he made a grab for her hair. She cried out in pain as he pulled her fiercely by the hair, snapping her head back. She kicked as hard as she could and felt her shoe make contact with a muscled thigh. Hearing a grunt of pain, she scrambled to break free. A hand slapped her face so hard she felt her head snap to one side. Tears stung her eyes. Through the mist of tears she could almost make out the man’s form as she grew accustomed to the darkness.

  He was tall and slender, and his hands were very strong. As she pulled back, he caught her by the front of her gown. She felt the fabric tear and heard his soft chuckle. The evil sound of it sent tremors along her spine. Holding on to the fabric at either side of her shoulders, he gave it a savage tug and felt her gown fall away.

  His laughter grew, low and cruel in the silence. Annalisa tried to back away from his touch, but he stepped closer, closer, until she felt herself backed against the cool, rough wall.

  Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her heart hammered so loudly she felt as if it would leap from her mouth. She tried to scream, and felt the sound come out in a rasp of terror.

  The hands that gripped her naked shoulders pressed painfully into her flesh. He yanked her firmly against him, running his hand along her back until it encountered her silken chemise. She felt something cold in his hand and realized with horror that it was a knife. With one smooth motion, he cut away her chemise and corset and laughed as they dropped to the floor. Half lifting, half dragging her, he pulled her to the middle of the room and tossed her down on the Turkish rug.

  "Now, you little bitch, you’re going to pay."

  His voice was so breathless, she couldn’t recognize it. But she knew she would never forget the painful touch of his hands as he gripped her and fell on top of her.

  "Annalisa." Beyond the door, she heard Chase’s voice, low and angry.

  Before she could cry out, a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.

  The man holding her ceased his movements to listen. The doorknob rattled.

  "Annalisa. Open up. I know you’re in there."

  The man’s hand tightened. She felt as if she were suffocating. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was certain it could be heard all through the house. Her breath was coming harder now, and the man’s hand covered her nose and mouth. When her lungs felt as if they were bursting, she gave a desperate shove. Air filled her lungs as she breathed deeply then screamed.

  Hearing Chase shoving frantically at the door, the man scrambled to his feet and ran to the window of the office. Annalisa was so stunned she had no time to react. The window was lifted and the man disappeared into the darkness outside. A cool breeze billowed the sheer curtains inward as the door to her office was kicked in.

  Chase hurled himself into the room and stared around in dismay. Running to the window, he climbed out and disappeared, only to reappear a minute later. Light streaming in from the hallway illuminated the room with thin light. Seeing Annalisa huddled in the middle of the floor, he went to her, kneeling in front of her.

  "Who did this?" His tone was so thick with fury she didn’t recognize it.

  "I couldn’t see. It was dark. I realized something was wrong when I saw the room in darkness, but he grabbed me. I fought him, but he was so strong. So strong." Bringing her hands to her face, she felt the beginnings of hysteria and fought to swallow back the tears. "Oh, Chase. I was so afraid. If you hadn’t come ..."

  "Shhh." His voice was gruff as he hauled her tenderly into his arms. He felt her tremble as she tried to get herself under control.

  "He had a knife."

  "Did he cut you?" Chase thought his heart was going to stop while he waited for her reply.

  "No. Only my clothes."

  Suddenly, he realized the woman in his arms was naked. He’d been so desperate to save her, he’d barely noticed. Tenderly his hands drew her against him, then stroked her back, vainly trying to offer her comfort.

  "Did he say anything? Could you recognize his voice?"

  "He said he’d make me pay." She shuddered and he drew her even closer against his chest.

  "Do you owe anyone money?"

  She shook her head. Tiny shudders convulsed through her. "I don’t know why, but I had the same feeling tonight that I had aboard the riverboat. As if the man here had been watching, waiting for this opportunity." She shivered again. "It’s only a feeling, but it frightens me."

  While he held her, he felt her draw in great gulps of air to steady her nerves. His hands tightened around her, feeling the uneven rhythm of his own heartbeat matching hers.

  "What made you come back here?" she asked against his throat.

  He swallowed, and felt the first stirrings of a different kind of passion. Just minutes ago, he’d been so afraid for her that the fear had pumped through his veins, giving him a strength he’d never known he possessed. He’d been driven by fury, terror, desperation. He would have gladly killed to save her. And now, feeling her safe and warm in his arms, he felt a need to keep her here, warm and safe forever.

  He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to hold her and feel both their heartbeats return to normal. He wanted to kiss her. God, how he wanted to
taste her lips. And he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away somewhere. Somewhere private. Somewhere safe. And never let her leave his sight again.

  "Chase?"

  He expelled a long shaky breath. "I was angry. I saw you being fondled by Nate Blackwell, and I wanted to—warn you to be more discreet."

  He wondered if he sounded convincing to her. It was a lame excuse. The words were hollow in his own ears.

  She lifted her face and he saw the beginnings of a smile through the tears that stained her cheeks. Could it be that Chase Masters was jealous? "You came to warn me?"

  Damn her. She was laughing at him. His lips compressed into a tight, angry line. "I don’t think you ought to be flaunting yourself like that unless you want all your clients to expect the same treatment."

  She tried to bite back her smile, but didn’t quite succeed. He really was jealous. Jealous and angry. "And you were coming back here to tell me that?"

  He nodded, feeling an unreasonable fury at her reaction. "It isn’t funny. Look what just happened here."

  Her smile fled. "Are you saying I invited this? Are you suggesting that I somehow caused this?" She pushed from his arms. Her savior had just turned into an arrogant monster.

  Grabbing the torn remnants of her gown, she held them in front of her, striving for some dignity.

  "You think it’s just a coincidence that a man attacked you tonight?"

  "I won’t discuss this further with you while you’re in this temper. I’d like your coat, please."

  "What?" He stared at her a moment without comprehending. Then, he nodded. "Of course." Unbuttoning his dark jacket, he wrapped it around her, offering her a measure of modesty.

  "Where was your gun?" Chase asked suddenly.

  She lowered her gaze, ashamed that she could have forgotten something so important to her safety. "In my pocket."

  "And you never thought to use it?" His voice hardened in renewed anger. He was still shaking from the thought of what almost happened to her.

  "I’m not used to thinking about shooting someone. I just never had the chance. And I’m not sure I could have shot him if I’d had the chance."