Heart of Glass (3 page)

Paralyzed with shock, Kate stared at him. The task she’d set for herself was too great. No doubt she could save the house, but Colin? Was he beyond redemption?

With one leg stiffly extended, he stretched as far as he could but his hand fell just shy of an oil lamp on the bedside table. No doubt if he reached it, he had every intention of hurling it at her. Not exactly the welcome she had imagined.

“Colin, stop!”

At the sound of his name, he drew back and his head whipped around. He skewed her with a cold, fathomless stare. Dark shadows stained the skin beneath his deep-set black eyes. The slightest movement caused him to wince in pain. His dark eyes bored into hers, and then when he finally realized she was not the woman who had just left, something between a rusty laugh and a snarl escaped him.

“You’re not my type either,” he rasped. “So get.”

Shielding the architectural plans, Kate stepped closer to the bed. Determined to give him a piece of her mind, she was careful to remain out of reach. Her heart faltered when she noticed a cane propped against a bedside table littered with a tray of uneaten food and a half-empty brown bottle of laudanum.

The pieces fell into place. What he must have suffered suddenly came clear.

Her heart ached for him, for the past. This time she barely whispered, “Colin, it’s me. Kate. Katie Keene.”

K
atie Keene
.

Colin stared through a laudanum-induced haze at the bespectacled young woman clutching a roll of paper. Was he hallucinating or was she real?

She was a far cry from the wench who had brazenly shown up earlier willing to do anything for a price. This one was no bigger than a minute and modestly turned out in an expensive traveling ensemble.

Her initial shock had faded. Now she appeared to be carefully studying him from behind her spectacles, her features shaded by the brim of a small hat jauntily poised atop thick hair of rich, dark brown.

His gaze swept from the lace around her high collar to the toes of her rain-spattered boots before returning to her face. Behind small wire glasses, her intense blue-eyed gaze never wavered. Something about her silent perusal forced him to search through long-forgotten memories. He knew this young woman but he had no idea how.

Katie Keene
. Suddenly he was assailed with painful flashes of recollection, memories of giggles and crinolines, hoop skirts with cascades of ruffles, pleas for his time and attention. He pictured his sister, Amelie, and remembered.

Katie Keene
. His little sister’s best friend.

His eyes narrowed. Colin tried intimidation with a cold stare. She had nerves of steel, he’d grant her that. She hadn’t budged an inch, nor did she appear to be frightened of him. Clutching that long roll of papers, she was dug in; Katie Keene wasn’t going anywhere.

Or so
she
thought, but he didn’t care who she was.

No, the truth was he cared too much because she had known him before. He wanted no witness to what he had become. She was too painful a reminder of a life that vanished long ago.

He wanted her out. “Leave, Katie Keene, and don’t come back.”

She lifted her stubborn chin.

“It’s Kate now, and I’ll not go until I’ve had my say.”

“Nothing you have to say interests me.”

“Oh, I think it might.” She dared to take a step closer.

He made another attempt to grab the lamp until searing hot
pain shot from his ruined ankle to his groin. He turned a groan into a growl, hoping to frighten her away.

“Oh, Colin—” Concern stained her blue eyes. She took another step forward.

He held up his hand. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare come any closer.”

Thankfully, she halted.

“I want you
out
.” He didn’t need her help or her pity. He needed her gone.

For a second he thought she was going to comply. Instead she glanced around and walked over to a wooden chair beside a drop-leaf table. She pulled the chair to the center of the room, stopping just out of his reach.

Late summer rain spattered hard against the windowpane behind him. This dismal day was proving to be even more tedious than all the other miserable days he had suffered of late. Kate Keene was apparently determined to make this one the very worst.

As she perched on the edge of the caned chair, she carefully positioned the long, rolled pages of newsprint on her knees. Then, acting as if he hadn’t just bellowed at her to leave, she took a deep breath and started talking.

“The minute I heard you were home I came to help.”

“I don’t need or want help. Yours or anyone else’s.”

“You may not want my help but it appears you need it. And
Belle Fleuve
needs me. The place is in total ruin, and I can assure you that I’m just the one to manage the restoration. Thanks to your father’s inspiration, I’ve spent years educating myself and am now an architect. I don’t pretend to be as talented as he was, but I know Patrick Delany would have wanted someone who truly cares about the house to bring it back to its former glory. I spent part of the war in Boston and afterward I went to Ireland where I studied …”

In seconds she had worked up a full head of steam, unaware that he was in excruciating pain. He didn’t care who or what
inspired her any more than he cared about restoring the house to its former glory. The place was in complete shambles, just like the entire South. So was he, for that matter.

What he
did
want was for her to leave him to his misery. Pain weakened his resolve to end his dependence. He was in dire need of a hefty dose of laudanum and her blathering on about living in Ireland and studying architecture on her own only made things worse.

“Miss Keene, I have no intention of restoring this place.”
Not even if I had the money. Not even then
.

His words shocked her into silence — but unfortunately only for a moment.

“Of course you are going to restore
Belle Fleuve
. You must.”

“Why?” He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

Taken aback, she blinked her magnified owl eyes.

“Why? Because it’s your home. Because it’s … historic and magnificent. I mean, it was magnificent and it can be again. I have designs that will make it so.” She shrugged. “I’ll admit I’ve made a few changes and additions, but I assure you they will not ruin the integrity of the original colonial design. The adjustments I’ve made take into account the needs of not only the home’s occupants, but the staff.”

Staff?
His meager savings was almost gone. He had nothing left to spend on anything but food and payment to the former slave who cooked for him in exchange for lodging for her and her husband.

Kate Keene began to untie the thin black ribbon wound around the drawings.

“Don’t bother, Miss Keene.” He willed her to listen. “I have no intention of living in that house ever again. I’d be rid of it in a heartbeat if I could find someone to take it off my hands. If I hadn’t enlisted in the army after the war and exchanged a gray uniform for Union blue, I’d have lost possession of this land years ago.”

She opened her mouth and surprised him by snapping it shut again. Her cheeks were on fire.

He was elated to see her apparently struggling for words, but she didn’t struggle long enough.

“You can’t be serious about selling.”

His unkempt appearance, his surly attitude, his rudeness, even the threat of flying missiles had not stunned Kate Keene as deeply as the declaration that he couldn’t care less and wanted to be rid of
Belle Fleuve
.

“This is your home, Colin, your heritage. Your ancestors are buried here.”

“I look forward to the day it’s no longer mine,” he reiterated. “I have no use for this place anymore. It’s not worth the paper the deed is written on.”

As far as he was concerned, the grand, pillared mansion was nothing but a tomb that housed memories of halcyon days faded to a cloudy dream. His father and mother had passed on years ago, victims of the war.

“What about Amelie? What if she comes back looking for you?”

Would he ever lay eyes on his sister again? He had no notion of her whereabouts or if she was even still alive.

“There’s no need for you to live like this.” She waved her hand indicating the interior of his small dwelling. “You could move into the house if we make a few basic repairs.”

“I have no desire to move back in there.” He doubted he could travel the length of the narrow walk that connected the
garçonnière
to the mansion even if he wanted to face the memories locked inside those walls. His gaze slipped to the laudanum bottle and then back to meet hers.

Kate Keene’s sharp eyes became calculating.

“I’m tired, Miss Keene. Please do me a favor and leave.”

She formed her words slowly, as if choosing them very carefully.

“Even if I wanted to, Colin, I owe it to Amelie and your parents to not leave you in this state. Obviously, you need far more help than I ever imagined. I feel it’s my Christian duty to stay on.”

Astounded, he forgot his injury and was forced to clamp his jaw against a shout of pain when he tried to sit up. He closed his eyes and waited for the intense throbbing that snaked from his shattered ankle all the way up his leg to recede. Finally, he managed a shuddering breath.

“Stay on? There is no way in h—”

She cut him off with a quick wave of her gloved hand. “There is no need to be vulgar. I can see that you are in no mood to discuss this today. Perhaps in the morning you’ll be more receptive.”

“In the
morning
?” He couldn’t believe her audacity.

Miss Keene rose very slowly, taking great care in handling her plans. Then she made a show of shaking out her skirt before she returned the chair to its original location. Moving back to the center of the room, she paused, her long-lashed lids fluttering behind her spectacles.

Then Miss Katherine Keene smiled a very slow, extremely irritating smile.

Either he had gone completely mad or she was insane.

“Please try to understand. There’s no way I’m leaving you like this, Colin.” Her words were laced with Southern syrup and a hint of something more. “I’ll send my companion back to town for our things and find some way to make myself comfortable for the night. We’ll have the house livable in no time. You’ll see. You simply can’t stay holed up out here like this.” She gazed around at the dingy paint and cracked plaster walls and shook her head. “It’s depressing. No wonder you feel so terrible.”

Colin shoved the fingers of both hands through his hair, held his head, and gritted his teeth.

He pinned her with a hard, cold stare. “You are not wanted or needed here. Turn yourself around, go back to New Orleans, and
don’t come back
.”

Kate walked slowly to the door, crunching across the broken vase as if it weren’t there. Before she reached for the knob, she
carefully turned to face him again. Her tone was laced with softness, but there was no denying her determination.

“Your parents once assured me that I was always welcome at
Belle Fleuve
.”

“My parents are dead.”

“Which is a blessing. If they were here, they would be appalled by your appearance and rude behavior. Since you are obviously not yourself, I’m going to forgive you for such odious conduct. I will see you again tomorrow. Perhaps then we’ll have time to go over the plans.”

“You will leave
now
!” he bellowed.

She smiled her irksome smile again and he noticed a dimple in her left cheek.

“I’m sorry, Colin, but I’m not going anywhere until you are capable of throwing me out yourself.”

S
tubborn, bullheaded …”

Kate muttered to herself as she hurried back to the carriage. The sight of Colin had been an appalling shock to say the least. Had she passed him on the street she would have never recognized him given his current state of deterioration. She’d longed to see him for years and he hadn’t even recognized her. There was no denying his confusion. She certainly hadn’t expected him to hold her in the same regard she held him, but she had expected him to show some enthusiasm simply because of her past connection to his family.

The horrific reunion was a not-so-gentle reminder that she’d never been more than a visitor here.

Certainly some terrible fate had befallen him. His face drained of color every time he moved. His skin was jaundiced, and deep shadows haunted his dark Creole eyes. His curly hair hung past his shoulders. His thick dark beard emphasized the hollows beneath his eyes.

Thankfully, guarding against flying objects had kept her from crying out at the sight of him.

The rain squall that had started before she entered the
garçonnière
had been short-lived. To the west, the sky already showed a hint of blue, though overhead, gray clouds still threatened. Surely tomorrow would be brighter. Kate anchored a smile on her face. No need to let Myra know they were definitely not welcome.

But if Kate had been one to take no for an answer, she would have never completed her architectural training. Her heart was set on restoring
Belle Fleuve
, not only because the place held so many memories, but as a showcase for her talent. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

She nodded to the waiting driver. When he opened the door, she saw Myra hadn’t budged.

“Well? Is he crazy?”

“No,” Kate said. “But he’s not well. In fact, he’s in such desperate need that I’ve decided we must stay on.”

“Here?”

Kate’s mind was racing. “We’ll walk to the house while the driver pulls the carriage around to the back door. Once we take inventory, you can return to town for supplies and our things.”

“I wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night at the very earliest. I can’t leave you here all alone.”

“You can and you will. I’ll be just fine.”

“Who was that woman? The redhead who walked out just before you walked in?”

“I have no idea.” The strong scent of the woman’s perfume had lingered in the air in the
garçonnière
, mingling with the smell of the stale food on Colin’s tray.