by Bobbi Smith
Lianne had been dozing in a chair in the parlor when the sound of his drunken entrance had awakened her. She'd hurried to follow him, afraid that he might retire for the night before she'd get the chance to speak with him.
"Uncle Antoine?"
The sound of her voice came so unexpectedly in the stillness of the room that it frightened Antoine, who'd thought he was completely alone. He whirled abruptly about, his eyes wide and wild.
"You! What are you doing here!" he demanded as he quickly strove to regain his composure.
Lianne felt only disgust as she stared at him. "I'm sure you know why I've come," she told him angrily. The long hours of waiting for him had not dampened her wrath. "I want to know how you came to bet my family's home in a card game! Although looking at you now, I can easily see how it might have happened."
Her words were so sneering and degrading that Antoine reacted immediately. He had been forced to tolerate such slurs from his father and brother, but he would not stand for it from this little chit. He slapped her hard, bloodying her lip.
"You will not speak to me in that manner, miss! I am your guardian whether you like it or not, and you will show me the respect due me in that position."
Lianne had never known violence before, and she was stunned by his abuse. She wanted nothing more than to flee the scene, but she knew she couldn't back down now, not when her whole future was at stake.
Girding herself, she wiped the blood from her mouth as she spoke. "I know Father left Alex and me quite well-fixed, and I want you to take our money and repurchase the plantation. I don't care what it costs. I just want you to buy Belle Arbor back from Adam Trent."
Antoine regarded her with a faintly amused expression. "Saying that I could buy it back, why should I?" he demanded. "The place has been losing money ever since your brother died. You've proven you can't run it," he belittled her, "and I certainly have no interest in becoming a farmer." He said the last with clear distaste.
Lianne was furious. He was refusing to right a wrong he'd done, and she was helpless to wield any kind of power to force him to do it.
Antoine continued. "Not that it matters, my dear. You see the money your father provided for you is lost . . . just as Belle Arbor was . . ."
"What are you saying!" She stared at him aghast, no longer feeling the pain from her cut lip. "You can't mean it's all gone?"
"That's exactly what I mean." His grin was nasty.
"But how? Why?" Though she'd never completely trusted him, it came as a shock to discover the truth of his grasping, evil nature.
"Your father claimed everything that was rightfully mine," he told her with hatred dripping from his words, "and now I've returned the favor. I've lost it all at the gaming tables, my dear little niece. It seems you and your brother are quite the paupers, and if you think I'm going to pay your bills and take care of you out of my pocket, you're wrong."
Lianne regarded him with loathing. This was the man fate had put in charge of her life — this was the man who'd controlled everything, lost everything, and now was almost laughing about it! Anger still filled her, but the complete hopelessness of her situation was drawing her deeper and deeper into a vortex of agonizing despair. If her home was gone and her money was gone, what would she and Alex do? Where would she and Alex go?
One thing Lianne knew for certain, Antoine didn't have to worry that she would ever come to him for anything again. She would spend the night only because the lateness of the hour prevented her from leaving immediately. First thing in the morning, she was going back to Belle Arbor. She didn't know what they were going to do to survive, but she knew she would rather beg on the streets from strangers than to approach him for help. When she left his house tomorrow, she hoped she'd never have to see him again for as long as she lived.
"I don't want or expect anything from you. I will be leaving in the morning," Lianne said as calmly as she could before turning her back on him and hurrying from the room.
Antoine smiled as he watched her go. He was rid of them at last. He didn't know what she was going to do, and he didn't care. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he drank deeply in a toast to his own brilliance. He was rid of them, and he was glad.
Adam stood at the window of the bedroom he'd chosen as his own, looking out across the moonswept grounds of Belle Arbor. Though it was well after midnight and he was tired, he found sleep elusive. After so many months of endless chases and frustrations, the prospect that he might be on the verge of a breakthrough in locating Shark left him tense. He was eager to be on with it, although logic told him to bide his time, and it was that conflict that left him restless and yearning for his final satisfaction.
Still on edge, but resigned to waiting, Adam strode back to the wide four-poster bed and stretched out upon it. Folding his arms beneath his head, he stared about the darkened, unfamiliar room. Thoughts of Suzanne remained with him as he courted sleep. He hoped with all his heart, mind, and soul that she was Shark's connection in New Orleans. He had to find the pirate, for only then would he ever be able to find peace with himself. Until that time he would remain a man driven by an unquenchable need for revenge.
Eventually the strain eased from his body, and his eyes closed in slumber. It was not a restful sleep that claimed him, though, but one riddled with memories of Elise and their short period of time together before the attack. In the dream, Elise's face swam before him . . . Elise laughing . . . Elise telling him of her love for him . . . and finally Elise after the assault —mute, withdrawn, an unwilling participant in life. His heart ached for her and for what they'd lost. Yet even in his sleep, he knew it was gone forever, and with that subconscious acknowledgement, her image faded, and for a brief moment before he fell into a deep, mindless slumber, another woman played through his mind — a fiery, spirited woman with eyes the color of brilliant, sparkling emeralds.
Lianne paced the bedroom, her expression serious as she contemplated what to do next. She knew she should have been despairing over what she'd learned about her uncle's underhanded maliciousness, but she refused to succumb to that emotion. Instead, a renewed sense of pride and self-respect filled her. No longer did she feel responsible for the way things had been going at Belle Arbor. The plantation hadn't been losing money while she'd been running it! Her uncle had been losing the money! His taunts that she'd been incapable and should give it all up had just been vicious attacks designed to hurt her and undermine her will to succeed.
A shiver traced down Lianne's spine at the realization of the power of his hatred. She had had no idea that he felt that way about them, and she was glad now that they were done with him forever.
With as much cool-headed logic as she could muster, Lianne labored to think of a way to turn things in her favor. There had to be a way! There had to be! Her mind was racing, seeking answers to her troubles, when a glimmer of hope surfaced. The trust funds! She remembered the trusts that her mother had set up for each of them. If Uncle Antoine hadn't managed to steal them too, there would be enough money in those accounts to at least begin repurchasing her home.
A surge of excitement pulsed through Lianne. She would be able to do it! First thing in the morning, she was going to meet with the banker. If the money from the trusts was still there, she planned to make Adam Trent an offer for Belle Arbor and use it as a down payment. Now, she prayed that Adam Trent would be willing to sell.
Adam Trent . . . the man loomed forth threateningly in her thoughts, and a feeling of apprehension shook her. Lianne wondered why just the thought of him could disturb her. She knew Adam for what he was — an arrogant, chauvinistic opportunist — so there should be no problem in dealing with him. She would be prepared. After they'd concluded their deal, and he was gone from Belle Arbor, life would get back to normal again.
At the thought of her beloved home, a heavy gloom descended upon Lianne. She tried to force herself to think positively, but she failed miserably. What if Adam wouldn't sell? The fear was a very real one, but she refused even
to think about that possibility. No, she was going to buy her plantation back, and she was going to make it successful all by herself. Her hopes and dreams for Belle Arbor were back intact. She could do it —she knew she could.
A feeling of deep-seated contentment filled her as she felt once more in control of her own destiny. Lying down upon the bed, she suddenly realized just how tired she really was. With the torture of her doubts eased, she gave herself over to rest. As she surrendered to the softness of slumber, the faint, disturbing memory of a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man flashing her a wide, warm smile taunted her and was gone. She slept.
Chapter Seven
Having reached the age of thirty-eight without being trapped into matrimony, Cyrus Shackelford was a man most pleased with himself. Handsome in a smooth sort of way, the banker was a little above average height and had medium brown hair and hazel eyes. Women generally found him attractive, and he was always quick to take advantage. Though many had tried to claim his heart, he had never fallen in love. In his opinion, a woman was to be used for as long as it suited him and then discarded in favor of a younger or more beautiful one.
Cyrus smiled as he thought of Lianne Ducharme, who was waiting for him now. She was quite lovely, and the thought of her gracing his bed sent a thrill of desire through him. Perhaps when they'd completed their business, he could encourage her to more enjoyable pursuits. Picking up the file he'd been searching for, he headed back to his office to speak with her.
Lianne's expression was schooled to one of mild interest as she awaited Cyrus Shackelford at the bank early the following morning.
"Ah . . . here we are, Miss Ducharme," Cyrus said as he reentered the office with the Ducharme file in hand. He closed the door, enjoying the thought of being alone with her for a time, and then went to sit at his desk before her. He opened the document and scanned the contents intently. After a long moment, he looked up. "I'm afraid if ready cash is what you're after, the news isn't good."
"What do you mean?" Lianne stiffened, expecting him to pronounce the worst—that Antoine had spent every last cent including the trusts.
Cyrus cleared his throat nervously. It was obvious to him that Antoine Ducharme had been constantly raiding his wards' accounts and that there was little left. All that did remain were two trust funds that could not be touched as yet. "The main Ducharme account has been closed due to lack of funds."
Lianne knew this, so she displayed no outward shock. "I see. And the trusts?"
"The trusts are still engaged."
"Good. I'd like to take that money and put it in an active account, please."
"I'm sorry, Miss Ducharme, but that's not possible. The money is not available for your free usage. I assume you know the terms of the trusts your mother established?"
She had been afraid of this, for she knew of the stipulations. "Yes, I know the terms, but I had hoped, considering the circumstances, that they could be waved."
"Not in cases dealing with this type of trust fund," he informed her sympathetically. "You see, these trusts were set up so that they could only be touched when you and your brother reached your majority or you married."
"And there's no way to circumvent this? Not even if my uncle has stolen all the rest of my money, and Alex and I are nearly destitute?" Lianne demanded dramatically, angered by the absurdity of her position. She was having to beg for her own money!
"No. I'm sorry, but I'm bound by the law." His answer was final, but he did not want to leave it there for fear that she might reject him as a possible suiter later because of hard feelings. "There are other ways to raise capital, though, if you find yourself in need of immediate cash. Have you ever considered mortgaging Belle Arbor?"
"No, I could never do that," Lianne answered hastily as she got to her feet. There was no way she could tell this man or anyone that her uncle had lost Belle Arbor, too. "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Mr. Shackelford."
"It's been my pleasure, and if I can ever be of further help to you, please let me know."
"I will, and thank you."
As Lianne left the bank, frustration filled her. The money was there, but she couldn't touch it until she turned twenty-one and that was many long months away. Again anguish and despair threatened. Her best chance to buy her home back had ended in disaster.
There was only one thing left for her to do. She was going to return home and make an offer to Adam Trent. It was only a matter of ten months until her twenty-first birthday. If he would accept the proceeds from whatever she could make selling her mother's jewelry and the few family heirlooms she possessed, she could still try to make a go of it. As she climbed into the carriage, Lianne silently estimated just how much money all her more precious personal possessions would bring, and she prayed that Adam would deem it enough.
"This bayou connects to a couple of the other plantations and then on down to the gulf," Alex explained to Adam as they rode up to Belle Arbor's small dock early that afternoon.
"Which plantations?"
"Bonne Cherie, the Martin place, and Willow Bend, the Labadie plantation."
The discovery that the bayou connected with both the gulf and Suzanne's home served to reinforce Adam's belief of her involvement with Shark's smuggling operation. The bayou provided the perfect shelter for the pirate and his illegal merchandise. It would be a relatively simple matter for her to keep her partnership with Shark a secret as long as they used the dark, dangerous bayous to carry out their business.
Adam grew determined to learn every inch of the area. If Shark was in there, he was going to find him.
"I'll bet it's tricky trying to find your way through," he coaxed, hoping to learn more from the youngster.
"It sure is." Alex's grin was one of childish superiority as he offered, "But I could show you if you really want me to. Once you learn it, it's easy to remember."
"I'd like that." It was the offer Adam had been hoping for. He wanted to learn the passage, and he wanted to learn it quickly.
Starved for male affection, Alex beamed as Adam quickly accepted his offer.
"Come on, I'll take you now. We've got time," Alex urged. During their hours of riding the plantation together that day, he had found himself coming to like this man who had so suddenly appeared in his life.
They settled in the skiff and pushed off from the Belle Arbor dock. In silent trespass, they moved through the darkened swampland, and Adam listened in earnest to all the boy told him. Alex had been raised in these bayous, and Adam trusted his every word. He committed to memory each clue and direction he gave him. When Alex pointed out Willow Bend's dock, Adam directed him to tie up.
"But why do you want to stop here?" He asked with barely disguised hostility. He hated Suzanne just as fiercely as his sister did.
"Miss Labadie is a friend of mine."
"She is?" Alex's idealized opinion of Adam shattered.
"Yes," Adam affirmed, unaware of his feelings. "I think I'll go up and see if she's at home."
"I'll wait here."
"You're sure?" He was puzzled by his sudden change of mood, but knew of no reason for it. At his nod of agreement, Adam said, "I won't be long."
Alex was sullen as he watched Adam disappear up the walk from the landing. He wanted to hate him for liking Suzanne, but he couldn't. All he could hope was that his newfound idol wouldn't get involved with her and end up dead like his brother.
Though it was mid-afternoon, Suzanne was still wearing her dressing gown as she lingered lazily in the cool, shaded quiet of her bedroom The night she had just passed with Shark had been one in which she'd gotten little rest. It had been his last night before sailing again, and they had spent the black velvet hours of the darkness sharing heated passion. Dawn's first light had drawn him from her side, and he'd left her reluctantly with a promise to return as quickly as he could.
Suzanne had slept most of the day away, and now, with no pressing social engagements, she could see no good reason to be up and about just yet. St
retching in an almost feline movement, she settled herself among her pile of pillows as she focused her thoughts on the man she'd really been desiring the night before . . . Adam Trent.
The thought of the tall, debonair planter sent shivers of delight coursing through her. She missed him, she decided almost petulantly. She'd been forced to leave New Orleans rather abruptly the week before, because Shark had arrived and it was necessary for her to meet him at the plantation. Now that he was gone and not due to return for some weeks, her time was her own to do with as she pleased . . . and she pleased to pursue Adam.
The prospect of seeing him again encouraged her to get up and get moving. Just as she was about to use the bellpull to call her servants to her, a knock sounded at her door.
"Yes, what is it?" she demanded, throwing the door wide.
"There's a gentleman downstairs, Miss Suzanne. He says he'd like to see you." Rosie, the slender, attractive, young black woman who was her maid, informed her.
"A gentleman?" She was surprised by this news, for she hadn't heard a carriage come up the drive. "Who is it? How did he get here?"
"He says his name is Adam Trent, and I guess he came the back way. I saw him walking up from the dock."
"Adam? Adam is here?"
"Yes, ma'am." She read the excitement in her mistress's expression. "Shall I tell him you'll be right down?"
"Yes —of course. Make him comfortable, and then get back up here and help me dress!"
"Yes, ma'am, Miss Suzanne." Rosie hurried off to do as she'd been told, marveling at her reaction to the gentleman's presence. She had never seen Suzanne act so excited before, and she wondered if the good-looking man waiting in the parlor was someone special.
Suzanne was thrilled at the thought of Adam waiting for her below. She could hardly believe that he'd made the trip all the way from New Orleans just to see her. While the romantic in her rejoiced at seeing him again, the practical woman in her breathed a deep sigh of relief that Shark had already set sail. They would be all alone for the first time since she'd met him many weeks ago.
