Day Dreamer (22 page)

She could see Cord striding out of the water as if he did not have a care in the world. She waited until he had time to dress and then, regretting having to leave the water, she slowly waded out and walked down the beach to join him.

By the time she reached him, Cord thought he had his emotions under control. Still, he avoided looking at her, afraid he would be tempted by her pouting lips or her haunting eyes.

“It’s time to go back,” he said, holding his hand out to help her mount. She hesitated and then slipped her hand into his.

“Cord, I give you my word, I’ll never again—”

“I would prefer you not speak of it,” he said as coolly as he could. He didn’t want her word. He wanted the whole maddening reality of her strange ability to go away until he was able to resolve it in his mind.

Once she was in the saddle, he mounted up behind her and headed back toward the cane road.

Celine was conscious of the way he held himself away from her, the control he used so as not to accidentally touch her as they worked their way across the fields. Thankfully, they were closer to the house than she realized. The cane soon gave way to the overgrown tropical forest and what had once been the garden. Once they were in the yard, Celine slipped off the saddle without waiting for Cord’s help and hurried to the house.

He didn’t call her name or try to stop her.

Cord watched Celine hurry away from him, her bare feet slapping against the stones that lined the overgrown path, her heels flashing. Her dark hair, still dusted with glittering sand, swayed back and forth at her waist. He wished he knew what to say to her, but he still felt so damned deceived. It was hard to reckon with all she had told him.

He had spent a lifetime shielding himself from memories that she could dredge up at will, her will, without his knowledge. Just when he’d thought all was not lost, that he would be able to make something of Dunstain Place and fulfill his promise to Alex, his desirable little wife had informed him she was capable of sneaking into his mind.

She was so beautiful, so desirable and so convincing that he had been tempted to take her in his arms and forgive her. He couldn’t deny that it must have been painful for her to tell him the truth, to admit she was abnormal, but that didn’t matter to him. What did matter was that he didn’t know whether or not he could trust her not to sneak into his mind again.

Emotionally, he needed time to think things through.

Physically, he was addicted to her as if she were a drug.

Cord retrieved his boots and Celine’s shoes before he handed his mount over to a waiting stable boy.

He was a few feet from the veranda when Ada bustled out of the house to greet them. Clad now in a gray watered silk gown with a wide lace collar and cuffs, she lingered in the doorway, eyeing Celine’s disheveled appearance. Cord stepped up beside his wife and offered his aunt no more than a nod in greeting.

“However did you get your pants all wet, Cordero? Celine, you look in need of a bath. I’ll have Edward fill you a cool tub.” She started to turn away and then, as an afterthought, said, “We heard about Bobo’s little boy. I’m so glad he is safe and sound. What a hero you are, Cordero, and what a day we’ve had around here.”

Cord wanted nothing more than to slack his thirst and change into clean pants, but there were duties he could not dismiss lightly. “No more trouble from the obeah man I hope?”

Ada fluttered a hand in the air. “No, no. Nothing like that—it’s just something so unexpected. At least, you didn’t remind me to expect any houseguests …”

“Expect
who
, Aunt?”

“Why, the magistrate’s own brother, Collin Ray, along with a bookseller from Barbados. A Mr. Wells, I believe he said. Howard Wells. Celine invited him to visit when they shared dinner in Baytowne. By the way, speaking of dinner, we will be dining in an hour,” Ada said.

She ran her hand over the flyaway strands that escaped her braids and went on before Cord could comment. “I have Foster overseeing a few special dishes while he works on the silver. One is a pudding with a bit of rum sprinkled into it as it cools. It only bakes for an hour, but sometimes if one isn’t careful—”

“That sounds wonderful, Aunt Ada,” Celine cut in, coming to Cord’s rescue. “Would you mind sending Edward up now?”

“There’s just so much to do!” Ada appeared thrilled to have so many details to see to. She bustled off toward the back of the house with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

Cord waited for Celine to enter the house first and then followed her up the stairs. He paused outside her bedroom door and when she stepped inside he said, “I didn’t know you met anyone in Baytowne besides Ray. Now it seems you have two admirers under our very roof.”

“Mr. Wells is old enough to be my father. He’s a kindly gentleman, well-read and interesting. When you were not around to escort me to dinner that night, Foster and Edward chose him as a safe companion for me. I didn’t think you would mind my extending an invitation. If you’re worried that I might be tempted to steal into the guests’ minds, rest assured I won’t. You can trust me with them.”

Cord watched her closely, weighing her words.

“We’ll all have to trust you, won’t we?”

Fifteen

T
hanks to the efforts of Edward and Foster, the Moreau silver glinted against a backdrop of freshly washed, starched and pressed table linens. Afternoon sunlight gilded the room with honey gold hues and streaks of butter yellow that gave even the faded floral wall covering new life. Celine had insisted that Ada reign at the end of the table at Cord’s right hand. She, herself, sat beside Howard Wells, rather than Collin Ray.

The magistrate’s brother sat stiffly beside Ada. His dress attested to his position as an island aristocrat, the heavy brocade vest, cutaway coat and laced cravat—a stark contrast to Cord’s white, open-throated shirt, with its billowing, full-cut sleeves and buff-colored breeches.

From Ray’s position, he could—and did—watch Celine unceasingly, lending only half an ear to Ada’s detailed descriptions of the meal preparation. Celine found the man’s speculative leer offending. Cord did not give any indication that he noticed the silent animosity that passed from her to Ray, but her husband only glanced her way infrequently.

As Celine attempted to ignore Collin Ray, she turned her attentions to Howard Wells. She found that gentleman’s warm humor and ready smile comforting. She was about to ask him what he had read and enjoyed lately when Ray drew everyone’s attention.

“There is talk in town that your wife is something of a witch, Moreau.” Collin Ray lifted his wine goblet. As he took a sip of the blood-red wine, he stared at Celine over the crystal rim.

Celine put her fork down and folded her hands in her lap. She refused to back down and look away from the odious man. She wished she truly could wield a powerful curse now and again, for now was certainly the time.

“My wife is a nag, not a witch.” Cord said. His closed expression suggested he did not favor such talk.

Celine was thankful he did not go into any explanation.

“You poor dear,” Ada said, addressing Celine. “I don’t understand all this talk about you being a witch. How ridiculous.” She turned to Ray, obviously impressed by his dress and manner and willing to humor him. “This morning there was quite a scene here with the obeah man.”

“A scene?” Ray took a sip of wine, easily leading the unsuspecting Ada into detailing the event.

“I doubt Mr. Ray is interested, Aunt,” Cord said.

“Why, of course I am. Quite a scene, you say?” Ray took another sip of wine.

“The slaves were quite upset. Some of them heard the rumors in town and naturally, anything mysterious upsets them.” Ada began to relate the details of the obeah man’s confrontation with Celine and Cord.

“I wasn’t aware that there were that many slaves left here on the estate.” Ray’s gaze flicked over Celine to Cord. “Now that you’re back, do you plan to allow an obeah man to practice that mumbo jumbo here? Most planters believe those witch doctors are the fastest way to slave insurrection. If you know his identity, you should have him sold off the island.”

“My father believed different, and so do I,” Cord explained. “He knew how important it was to give the slaves some peace of mind. There is little basis for trust in their lives. Magic fills the void. You might call the obeah man’s work mumbo jumbo, but if the slaves believe he is capable of curing their ills or meting out justice among them, what’s the harm?”

“But it sounds as if your wife might be in jeopardy.”

Cord drained his wineglass and waited while Edward stepped out of the shadows to refill it.

“My wife has proven she is not afraid to stand up to the obeah man. The slaves appreciate a show of strength. Besides, she saved the overseer’s child.”

“I wasn’t aware you had an overseer up here.”

“He’s one of the slaves. Also the head boiler and gang boss. Why shouldn’t he be in charge?”

“He’s a slave, that’s why. You have actually appointed him overseer?” Ray was stunned.

“No. He’s more of a manager. Things were running quite smoothly with him in charge before I arrived and I’ve no wish to upset the apple cart.” Cord drained his wineglass again.

Ray was unable to hide his contempt.

“I hope to God we don’t find you all murdered in your beds.”

Celine turned to Howard Wells, hoping he might provide a new topic of conversation, and found him smiling at Ada. Neither of them were paying any attention to the heated discussion. Cord’s aunt was well aware of the man’s perusal and was blushing coyly.

“Would you care for more
chocho
, Mr. Wells?”

“I would. It’s delicious,” Wells said of the mild green island squash.

Finding no help from that quarter, Celine carefully studied the spacious dining room, with its massive table and its bank of long, wide windows to the sea. Foster and Edward had already made great strides in overseeing the cleaning and refurbishing of the house and after only a day, the place had begun to glow with new life. Every prism dripping from the chandelier above the table had been washed. Candlelight reflected off the crystal droplets and was scattered over the walls.

Celine sipped her wine, lost in thought, wondering if Cord was still upset with her, wondering if he would set aside his anger when they climbed the stairs tonight.

“You intend to do
what
?” Collin Ray’s incredulous shout startled her so much that she spilled her wine on the clean cloth. Edward slipped out of the room.

“I said I’m going to have emancipation papers drawn up for all the slaves at Dunstain Place as soon as my father’s solicitor returns from England.”

“You can’t,” sputtered Ray.

“Why not? There are already many freed slaves established in business here on St. Stephen. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before slavery is abolished in the islands. I predict it will come much sooner than in America.”

“Preposterous.”

“I agree with Cordero,” Wells said, and then beamed at Ada.

Cord startled Celine by asking, “What do you think? Am I mad to turn loose of so many assets?”

“No.” She smiled over at him, and although it was not returned, she felt as if their animosity had been set aside for the moment. “In fact, I believe this is one of the few times since I laid eyes on you that I think you are perfectly sane.”

By the time the meal ended, dusk had gathered and torches were lit around the perimeter of the house. Ada suggested she show Howard Wells the collection of books in the library. Uncomfortable without their diversionary conversation, Celine excused herself early, leaving Cord and Collin Ray to argue over brandy and cigars. She slipped out to the kitchen, where she found Foster and Edward helping to clean up the remains of the feast. Gunnie was up to her elbows in soapsuds.

“Thank you for a wonderful meal,” Celine told the men. “I know most of it was your doing.”

“Miss Ada ’as some wonderful recipes.” Foster handed Edward a dry platter and the shorter man bent to place it carefully in a cabinet.

When Edward straightened he said, “It looks to be a beautiful sunset. Good time for a romantic stroll in the garden. I can go get Cordero and—”

“He is busy with Mr. Ray.” She was certain a romantic stroll in the garden with her was the last thing on Cordero’s mind.

On her way out the door, Celine paused to thank Gunnie for dinner, but the woman did not acknowledge her compliment. Celine slipped out the back door and crossed the veranda. She made her way along the overgrown garden path to a terrace that had once provided a panoramic vista of the sea. A stone bench near the far edge of the terrace beckoned. What it lacked in comfort it made up for with a view of the spectacular sunset.

A sense of peace and belonging imbued her as she sat with her hands folded in her lap. She looked around, wondering if perhaps Alyce’s spirit might be with her now, hovering protectively in her garden, enjoying the sunset and the coming of night. She watched the sky change from subtle peach to a brilliant orange and yellow.

If Cord didn’t forget to spare a few laborers for the task as he had promised, the garden would soon be returned to its former splendor. And Celine was not adverse to rolling up her own sleeves to help.

The blissful moment fled instantly as Celine felt a cold chill of warning settle over her like a damp cloak. The sensation was strong enough to prompt her to turn and gaze over her shoulder. When she saw a man silhouetted against the deep green foliage, she started to smile, thinking it might be Cordero—until he stepped out of the shadows. It was Collin Ray.

She immediately quit the bench, intent upon escaping into the house, but Ray was far swifter than she imagined. He quickly crossed the terrace, effectively blocking her way. When he stepped in front of her, she could not help but be reminded of Jean Perot and the way he had cornered her. She began to shiver uncontrollably.

“Are you cold or merely excited?” Ray asked, a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.

“Let me pass. I’m needed inside.”

“You’re needed right here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, stalling, trying to edge around him.

“I’m sure you do. You recall our little meeting on the docks …”

“You make it sound like an assignation when it was absolutely nothing of the sort.” She tried to sweep by him, lifted her skirt so that the fabric would not even touch him as she passed by.

He grabbed her arm above the elbow.

“Are you ready to accept my offer of protection?”

“What are you talking about? I’m married …”

“To a man who did not glance your way more than once at dinner. Surely you can’t wish to remain here. The place is in a shambles. That old woman is senile. Moreau allows the presence of a witch doctor, who feels challenged by you, thanks to those idiotic rumors. Your life is in danger, Celine.”

“It is not. You said yourself obeah magic is a farce. Dunstain Place is not the way you make it out to be, either. With very little effort, Cord will be able to make this place what it was before.”

He pulled her closer. She winced at the pain and tossed back her head to glare up at him.

“
Let me go
.” She struggled to get away from him.

He leaned close. She could smell the sour scent of onions and cigars on his breath. His ice blue eyes were cunning, full of greed and avarice.

“Do you know where your husband spent the night while he left you in Baytowne’s worst excuse for an inn?”

“No, and I don’t care.” She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear her suspicions confirmed.

“He was at Madam Felicity’s, the most notorious whorehouse in the West Indies.”

Ray’s eyes roamed over her, the heat behind his gaze so intense she could feel it sear her breasts, her lips, her throat. She tried to break free.

“You are far too beautiful to waste away hidden up here with a husband who barely gives you the time of day. My offer of protection still stands.”

“What makes you think my wife needs protection, Ray?”

Celine whirled around and found Cord crossing the veranda. Behind him, Foster and Edward hovered in the shadows. She blessed them for their meddling.

Cord was furious at what he had just witnessed. When he’d first come upon them, he’d been ready to blame Celine for tempting Ray under his very nose, but then he’d heard enough to know different and had seen Celine flinch away from Collin Ray in disgust. Now, as Cord strode across the paved terrace, his boot heels rang sharply against the stones.

“I could call you out for this, Ray.”

Cord stepped up beside Celine. He gently took her arm and began rubbing his thumb over the place where Collin Ray’s grip had surely left bruises. Although her show of confidence had been intended to belie her fear, he was not surprised to find her trembling.

Collin Ray straightened the lace on his cuffs. “I’ve merely made your beautiful wife a better offer.”

“As your whore?”

“Face it. You won’t deal well here, Moreau. You’re just like your father. He ran with the underbelly of island society. No one will forget that.”

“What do I care for your society? I’m not English, nor do I pretend to be like the rest of you island colonials who were born here and still refer to England as ‘home.’ I can take care of my wife, Ray, without help from you. Now, get out before I have to throw you out. Don’t ever come near my wife again or I’ll have to kill you. I won’t warn you again.”

“I only thought to offer myself to her because you obviously don’t appreciate her, Moreau. I’ll be happy to leave.” Collin Ray made a formal bow to Celine. “Good night, madam.”

Thankful for Cord’s hand riding her waist, Celine did not acknowledge Ray’s departure. As soon as the man was out of the garden, she buried her face against Cord’s shirtfront.

Uncertain, Cord stared down at her dark hair. Her cheek was pressed against his heart. Surprisingly, it pleased him to find she would turn to him for comfort. He slowly raised his hand and began to stroke her hair.

“I’m not afraid of much,” she said softly, “but he frightens me.”

“I’m not always very kind either, Celine, and yet you are not afraid of me.”

“But you are not evil.” She knew that whenever Cord was cold or hard, when his anger surfaced or he seemed indifferent, it was only because he so closely guarded any deeper, softer emotion.

Finally she felt composed enough to step away from him. Cord walked to the edge of the terrace to watch the sky purple and the stars take their places on the night’s empty stage. He tried to blot out the sight of Ray’s hands on her.

“Our marriage was a business agreement, not much different from the one Ray has offered you …”

“I am no whore.”

“I know that,” he said without hesitation.

Celine tried to fight back the tears stinging her eyes.

There came a slight breeze, a very faint lifting of leaves atop the hibiscus that had once been a neat hedge but was now a solid green, massive wall of leggy stems. The gentle breeze carried the scent of frangipani, and with it the feeling of peace and contentment she had known earlier. A sensation of calm settled over her.

Cord turned around and found her watching him closely. The juxtaposition of her innate stubbornness and her petite stature and vulnerability was alluring. What would she have done if Foster had not sent him out to join her? How long could she have held Ray off?