Though she could see past the reflection now, she still couldn’t make out anything beyond the window, except sheets of silvery rain falling. The lantern light behind her glittered on the drops tracking down the pane and dropping from the sky, but it couldn’t penetrate the ebony reaches of the night.
She tried to imagine the graveyard and huge trees, but only Shain’s face came into full being in her mind. His thunderous brown eyes when he had ordered her to accompany him back to Chenaie. The grim set of his lips when she taunted him with her disobedience. His eyes softened with tenderness or deep mahogany with hungry passion. His lips approaching hers for a tender, soul-wrenching kiss.
She laid her head back against the wall behind her.
* * * *
A crack of thunder woke her, and Alaynia sat up abruptly, then scrambled from the window seat. The room was lighter, but not from the flashes of lightning piercing the smoky sky outside. She’d spent the entire night on the window seat, and her cramped and knotted muscles attested to the unsuitableness of her bed.
Shain. Why hadn’t he woken her to share their bed? He must be still boiling with anger at her.
She started across the room, almost tripping on the blanket at her feet. Funny, she didn’t remember having that the previous night when she fell asleep. Stepping over it, she hurried over to the connecting door and opened it. The spread on the huge bed was turned back neatly, the sheets smooth and unwrinkled, obviously not having been slept on. At first a stab of anger flared in Alaynia, but she quickly gnawed her bottom lip in worry.
She crossed the master bedroom and hurried into the hallway. Maybe he’d stayed downstairs last night, in an attempt to make her come to him. She descended the front stairwell and searched the lower rooms in the manor house without success. The empty silence mocked her uneasy thoughts as she strode onto the back veranda, where she peered through the pouring rain. She could make out lights in the kitchen house windows. The cook was obviously already at work. Perhaps Shain was having a cup of coffee with her.
She grabbed the slicker Tana had loaned her from a nail beside the door. Shrugging into it, she walked to the edge of the veranda nearest the kitchen house, then pulled the slicker hood over her head and dashed for the other building. The cook glanced up when Alaynia pushed open the door, her face immediately creasing into a frown of annoyance at being disturbed in her domain.
“Uh ... I was looking for Shain,” Alaynia hastened to say.
“He is not here, Miz St. Clair.” The cook stared pointedly at the water dripping from Alaynia’s slicker onto her spotless floor.
Alaynia hurriedly backed out and closed the door. Standing beneath the overhang, she gazed toward the stable. Determinedly, she ran into the yard and, feet splashing water from the soggy ground, raced toward the stable. Another violent flash of lightning lit her way, accompanied by a ringing crash of thunder.
Inside the barn, she stared down the dark aisle between the stalls. Straw rustled beside the door, and she froze, thinking it might be a rat. A sleek, gray cat rose and stretched, then let out a loud meow. It walked over and sat down in front of her, gazing up.
“Sorry, kitty,” Alaynia said. “You’ll have to wait until the stable hands come to feed you.” She bent down and ran a hand over the cat’s head, then started down the dark aisle.
A moment later, she was satisfied that Shain’s stallion wasn’t in the barn. Returning to the barn door, she gazed out into the pouring rain. He darned sure wasn’t riding around in that, was he? And, if not, he had to have taken shelter somewhere besides the manor house.
A lantern hung on a nail by the door, and she picked it up, searching with her other hand in the tray beneath it. Pulling out one of the matches, she struck it against the wall and lit the lantern. The little mare she usually rode was in one of those stalls, but she’d have to find the tack room before she could saddle her.
Chapter 25
As soon as she climbed into the saddle, Alaynia realized she had no idea where to start searching. She knew the way to Tana’s house and had traveled to Jake’s and also St. Francisville, but Shain had yet to fulfill his promise to show her around the plantation grounds. She walked the mare to the barn door and stared out at the rain.
The night of the fire, she had seen the workers coming down a trail running between the barn and the kitchen house. She could see just a little better now—at least enough to make out the trail. The mare stepped willingly out into the downpour, and she reined her onto the trail. Probably Shain was only childishly making her worry because of his anger at her, she told herself. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t resort to such infantile tactics. No, despite his anger, he would confront her, rather than cause her this much anxiety.
And there had been too many unusual happenings at Chenaie. The fire that destroyed the chapel—the ruined wagon of cotton. The sick mules Shain had mentioned in passing at supper one evening. She’d been so embroiled in her own thoughts and experiences, she had hardly discussed with Shain whether he considered the mishaps truly accidents or an intentional infliction of harm to Chenaie.
The wagon of cotton couldn’t have driven itself to the stream and emptied itself, she realized as she emerged onto a wider trail which ran between a row of neat, whitewashed houses, where lights burned in the windows. She rode toward the first one, which was a little larger than the rest, and dismounted at a hitching rail. As soon as she crossed the porch and tapped on the door, a chubby woman with gray hair opened it.
“My word!” the woman said. “Come in. Why, you must be soaked. I’m Myra Carrington, and you must be Miz St. Clair.”
Alaynia smiled and started to shrug out of her slicker, then froze when she glanced beyond Mrs. Carrington. Shain and Cole sat at a table, both with plates of food in front of them. They looked perfectly fine—and dry. Another man emerged from a doorway on the side of the room, hesitating when he saw her.
“Why, Miz St. Clair,” he said. “Please, come on in.”
Shain dropped the fork in his hand, starting to rise.
“Don’t bother!” Alaynia told him. “I was just wondering where you’d spent the night. Now that I know you aren’t lying out in the rain somewhere with your brains knocked out, I’ll go on about my own business.”
She whirled and strode from the porch, then flung herself onto the mare. As she headed back toward the manor house, she forced herself to remember the muddy trail could be dangerous for the mare to traverse and held her down to a trot. By the time she rode into the barn again, the stable hands were feeding the horses, and one of them hurried over to her as she slid from the mare.
“Miz St. Clair,” he said with a gasp. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather!”
“I’m not out any longer,” she said grimly. Knowing he would care for her mare, she walked out of the barn and headed for the manor house. On the back veranda, she paused and shrugged out of the slicker, re-hanging it on the nail before she stared out through the rain. As soon as she realized she was watching to see if Shain had followed her—and comprehended that he’d had plenty of time to get there if he had—she snorted in disgust and angrily stalked into the house.
She found Jeannie in the dining room, and the young girl jumped to her feet as soon as Alaynia entered. “Alaynia! Oh, I’ve been so worried. I found your bed not slept in and couldn’t find you anywhere in the house. You always have your coffee with me, and I couldn’t imagine where you’d gone in this horrible storm.”
“I was looking for your brother,” Alaynia spat. “He didn’t see fit to come home last night.”
“Oh,” Jeannie said in a nonchalant voice. “He probably stayed out at Cole’s house.”
“Cole’s house?”
“Uh-huh. Cole’s been staying in an empty house one worker’s family used to use. That family moved on last summer, and Shain’s used that house before, too, when he’s had to stay out near the fields at times. It’s close to the irrigation dams, in case they have to keep an
eye on them.”
“Doesn’t he have men to do that for him?” Striding over to the sideboard, she poured herself some coffee. “And why wouldn’t he at least let us know he was going to be out all night? He could have sent someone to tell us, if he was too busy to ride over here himself.”
Jeannie’s face puckered into a frown. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “He usually does that—send someone with a message, I mean. Maybe he just got busy and forgot.”
“Forgot, hell,” Alaynia said without thinking. “He meant to make me worry.”
“Have you had a fight with Shain already?” Jeannie asked worriedly. “Oh, I hope it’s not over something I’ve done. I’ve been trying so hard to stay out of your and Shain’s way—so you can have some privacy. Maybe, since Shain can’t get away to take you on a honeymoon trip, I could go stay with one of my friends for a while.”
Regretting her outburst, Alaynia hurried to Jeannie’s side. “Jeannie, no. It’s not you at all. Why, with Shain out in the fields so much, I need someone to chat with now and then. And you can’t leave. Your birthday party is Friday night, and all of the guests have sent acceptances.”
“If this rain keeps up,” Jeannie grumbled, “no one will be able to come anyway. They won’t want to get all dressed up and have their finery ruined getting here.”
“Surely the rain won’t last until Friday. Let’s look on the bright side. You said you wanted to make name tents for the table, so why don’t I show you how to use my lettering template?”
It continued to rain while they worked on the lettering, and the dreary weather was an appropriate accompaniment to Alaynia’s dismal thoughts. She tried to put on a cheerful face, not wanting to involve Jeannie in her problems with Shain, but at times she found herself looking out the window while Jeannie bent over her drafting table. They broke for lunch, and as Netta carried a tureen of soup into the dining room, she informed them that Shain would not be joining them. He had sent word his attention was needed out at the irrigation ditches.
Jeannie tossed her a relieved look, but tension knotted Alaynia’s shoulder muscles. She barely touched her soup, and picked at the broiled fish Netta brought for the next course in disinterest. Only the thought of the cook’s miffed feelings if she returned the entire plate to the kitchen untouched coerced her into eating part of it.
She spent the rest of the afternoon alternately pacing and staring out the rain-drenched windows. Jeannie curled up with a book, but when Alaynia chose one from a shelf in Shain’s study and joined her in the parlor room, she soon closed her book in resignation at her lack of concentration.
After the evening meal, which she again forced herself to at least move around on her plate in order for it to look like she’d eaten a portion, Alaynia stood from the table to murmur a polite leave-taking to Jeannie. Before she could speak, she heard booted footsteps on the back veranda. She bit her lips in indecision and glanced at the dining room door. She ought to hurry on up to her room, and let Shain come and apologize to her. After all, he’d let her ride back to the stables in that darned storm this morning without a thought for her welfare. But Jeannie rose to her feet and quickly glided to the door.
“I’ll let you and Shain have some time to talk,” she said as she passed, making Alaynia realize she had utterly failed to hide her frustration and agitation from the young girl all day.
She heard Jeannie call a good night in the hallway, and Shain respond. Another voice also called to Jeannie, and Alaynia recognized Cole Dubose’s rumbling masculine tone. She stood waiting for them, but their footsteps bypassed the dining room and went on down the hallway to Shain’s study.
Thinning her lips in indignation, Alaynia went after them.
They’d left the study door open, and she halted in the hallway. Both men were slumped in chairs, with Shain behind the walnut desk and Cole leaning forward in an armchair at the side of the room, elbows on his knees and shaking his head. Their clothing was drenched and muddy, their appearance a far cry from when she had seen them that morning. Shain ran his hands over his face, palm rasping audibly on his new growth of beard. When he dropped his arms, Alaynia stifled a gasp at his haggard expression and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Well, we can probably forget about the damned cane,” Shain said. “It needed water, but it’s flooded beyond saving now. Guess I should have planted rice.”
“Ah, you know you’re too far north in the state for rice to thrive,” Cole replied. Straightening in his chair, he spat, “It’s that goddamned timbering. There’s nothin’ on the surrounding hills to stop the water when it rains like this now. Hell, it’s only been raining a little over a day, and looks like it’ll keep up for a week. Nobody tampered with that irrigation dam—it just wasn’t built to handle a flooded creek like that.”
“I should have realized something like this could happen,” Shain said in a tortured voice.
“How?” Cole snapped. “How could you have realized the timbering on surroundin’ land would affect you? It never crossed my mind, either, that the creeks on adjoining properties would fill and come ragin’ across your land like damned rivers! We’re just damned lucky we were able to fill enough sandbags to protect the workers’ homes.”
“They won’t stay protected for long, if this keeps up. We’ve got to keep the men and older boys working in shifts, and we might have to call on the women to help, too. It’ll depend on how fast that water rises.”
Lightning flashed outside, and a crash of thunder shook the manor house. It barely faded into a rumble before another violent crash followed. Shain grabbed a crystal-cut decanter from a tray on the edge of his desk and poured two glasses nearly full of amber liquid. Handing one to Cole, he drank half of his glass before he spoke again.
“One of us is going to have to ride into St. Francisville and wake up the general store owner. Get some more bags for sand. I want to check on Alaynia first, and explain to her what’s going on. I should have gone after her this morning, but the teacher came running, telling us he’d seen the irrigation threatening to give way when he passed it on his way to open the school house.”
Guilt filling her, Alaynia stepped into the study. “You don’t have to apologize, Shain.” She crossed the room to stand by his side and ran her hand over his tousled hair. “I’m sorry I acted so foolish this morning. I should have waited for you to tell me what was going on. What can I do to help? Can I go after more bags for you?”
Shain pulled her into his arms and buried his face on her breasts. She heard Cole rise and leave the room, but she tightened her arms around Shain’s neck and rocked him soothingly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Is it awfully bad?”
“Bad enough,” he mumbled. Raising his head, he gently urged her onto his lap and cupped her face to smooth a thumb across her cheek. “I’m sorry I ...”
“No!” She placed her hand over his mouth. “Please. Don’t say you’re sorry. I should have tried harder to understand. I ...” She gasped when he drew her index finger into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. With an effort, she pulled her hand free. “We ... ah ... you have things to do. And I want to help.”
“You’re giving me the best help you could right now,” he murmured. “Just having you in my arms for a few minutes. I wish I had an hour of this, instead of this brief time. Alaynia, I tried all day to get a few minutes to come back to the house—see if you were all right. I did send Carrington to the stables, to make sure your horse was there and you’d gotten back in one piece.”
She frowned in remembrance of the early morning trip, but quickly tried to cover up the nagging thought in her mind. Shain needed her support right now, not her badgering over something that probably had a logical explanation.
“What is it?” Shain asked.
“Nothing. Really,” Alaynia assured him. “Why don’t you finish your drink?”
She reached for the glass on the desk, but Shain caught her arm. “Alaynia, tell me what’s bothering you. I don’t need to b
e worried that you’re keeping something from me, when I should be concentrating on what this storm’s doing to my plantation.”
“Since you put it that way,” she grumbled. “It’s just that when I saw you and Cole this morning at the Carringtons’, neither of you looked like you’d been up all night in the rain.”
“Who do you think put that blanket over you last night?” Shain asked. “I would have carried you to bed, but I was afraid I’d wake you. I came back an hour or so before dawn and got some dry clothes. Didn’t want to wake anybody by spending too much time here, so I just took them to the Carringtons’ and changed.”
“Oh. I wish you had woke me, though. What can I do to help now?”
“This, for right now.”
Shain kissed her, slowly, deeply and savoringly. Just as the kiss threatened to creep around the bend into passionate, he released her and laid his forehead against hers. “I need a lot more of you than that, but I’ve got to get back out there.”
“Should I ... ?”
Shain quickly kissed her again. “I know you want to help,” he said when he broke the kiss, “but I’m going to ask you to do something I know is completely against what you’ve got in mind for yourself. Cole’s probably already hitching up the wagon to go after the sandbags.” She started to rise, but he held her in place.
“No, I don’t want you to go with him. I’d like you to stay with the women.” Alaynia stiffened, but he continued, “It’s going to be just as important to keep food and hot coffee ready for the men all night. I know it’s useless to ask you to stay here at the manor house, now that you know what’s going on. But you could help Myra Carrington organize the women.”
Witch Angel Page 31
