Lynna's Rogue (13 page)

             
The focal po
int of the house was the gently
curving staircase. Rich mahogany banisters wound endlessly upward
,
passing shining crystal wedding
cake chandeliers
with hundreds of candles
,
imported from China. To the right were twin parlors of gold and rose.
A
fter dinner
,
the ladies would be escorted to the rose parlor for tea, while the men enjoyed their cigars and brandy in the gold parlor. A marvelously carved sliding door separated the two parlors, but it
did not
drown out the men’s raucous laughter that often caused the ladies to blush as they realized the topic of their conversation. To the left was the dining room. The table, chairs, buffet
,
and server were rich mahogany
,
inlaid with satinwood. A corner cabinet displayed the Canton
c
hina and Waterford
c
rystal that had been in the Fletcher family for generations.

             
Lynna had seen it all hundreds of times, but she never failed to be amazed by the beauty and simple elegance of the house each time she entered. It was worlds apart from her home, the fortress
-
like Chateau. Home. The thought brought scalding tears to her eyes. Was her father still alive? If so, why
did he not
contact her? Or, better yet, why
didn’t
he come for her himself?

             
In three years she had
no
t
received a single letter, if any had been penned, and had dutifully kept her promise not to contact him for fear of discovery. It was proving to be a promise that tormented her and was becoming more difficult to keep with each passing day. Had her beloved father simply forgotten she even existed and moved on to live his life without her?

             
“Lynna! For heavens sake
,
how long does it take you to climb a simple flight of stairs?” Suzanne's irritated voice drifted down the mahogany steps.

             
Snatching up her skirts Lynna tried to hurry, she really did, but thoughts of the Chateau brought heartache and worry over her father. That set off a chain reaction. Her eyes filled with tears, her heel caught in the hem of her dress, and she tripped halfway up the stairs
,
falling flat on her face.

             
“Lynna!” Suzanne's shrill voice vibrated through the house
,
sending the upstairs servants scurrying lest they should fall victim to her foul temper.

             
Suzanne's bedroom was a lovely shade of robin
’
s egg blue. A massive four-poster bed surrounded by a sheer lacy canopy graced the center of the room. Beside the bed a pair of Chippendale wing chairs stood on either side of a piecrust tea table. On the other side
of the room
was a full-length cheval glass in which Suzanne currently stood admiring herself while a young
Negro girl
fanned her vigorously with a peacock feather.

             
Lynna's aunt Judith was on the floor at her feet attempting to pin the hem on Suzanne's gown, which was
n’t
an easy task due to Suzanne's constant preening. As she entered the room
,
Suzanne spun around to face her, almost falling off the stool, (which would have thrilled Lynna and the Negro girl immensely), and with a look of stern vexation asked, “Lynna, whatever took you so long? My goodness, but y
ou certainly do dawdle. Why, I…
never mind
. How do you like my gown? Is
it
not
positively divine?”

             
Lynna had to admit the gown was mo
st becoming. Cut from light turquoise
watered silk and fashioned with a low pointed waistline back and front, the full skirt was embroidered with dozens of tiny rosettes. Rosettes that Suzanne hardly noticed, while Lynna and her aunt had spent endless days and nights on the tedious handwork. A delicate row of fine lace edged the daringly low
-
cut bodice with three rows of the same lace falling from the back to form a short triple cape.

             
Judith was the seamstress for Magnolia House, a position
she had
held for some twenty
-
odd years. She stitched clothes for the entire family; on the rare occasion when she was
no
t sewing exclusively for
Suzanne,
the
ir spoiled,
only daughter. Lynna and her aunt shared a small cottage on the plantation grounds.

             
“It re
ally is beautiful,” Lynna had to admit
. “But then, all of my aunt's gowns are.” If the truth were told, the gown would rival Lynna’s own gowns back home, made by the finest dressmakers in all of Paris. Gowns that mice had most likely built nests and were raising their offspring in by now.

             
“I agree. But this gown is special, for no one could fail to notice me
when I wear it
.” She relea
sed a
quivering sigh and
absently curled a lock of hair around her finger as she whispered, “Not even
Captain Jordan.”

             
Once again, as it did each time Suzanne breathed his name, Lynna's heart set up a noisy hammering in her chest. She clutched at her bodice and glanced up, surprised the others in the room
did not
hear the clattering racket behind her breastbone. If Suzanne ever found out the truth about what had transpired between Lynna and Suzanne’s
magnificent Captain Jordan
,
not only would Lynna's shame be almost unbearable, Suzanne would be livid and possibly have murderous intent. Lynna hid her blazing face behind her hands and prayed this infatuation, as the majority of Suzanne's
obsessions
were, was short lived.

             
“Do
you no
t you agree, Lynna?”

             
What?  “Oh, yes… certainly. He cannot fail to notice you in such a marvelous gown.”

             
Lynna had heard little b
ut the praises of
Captain Jordan since last Christmas
,
when Suzanne had met him at a Ball while visiting her brother in Charleston. She wished desperately to warn Suzanne, to tell her what a vile, wretched, bla
ck-hearted womanizer the
sea captain truly was. But she
could not
. To confess to her horrible, horrible blunder would bring humiliation and scorn to herself, and possibly loss of employment for her aunt. If she ever found out the truth
,
Lynna knew Suzanne’s revenge would be swift
,
and she
would not
care who she hurt in the process. She could only listen as Suzanne prattled on and on about the sea captain with th
e raven locks and dashing good looks
that Lynna remembered… oh… so well.

             
The Negro girl, with perspiration dripping from the tip of her nose and colorful braids sprouting in all directions, undoubtedly shared Lynna's sentiments. When Suzanne spun toward the mirror and the Negro girl was facing her back, her eyes rolled toward the heavens. Her actions caused Judith to move very close to the hem of Suzanne's gown to keep from laughing and sucking a mouthful of pins down her throat. Surprisingly, and to their astonishment, Suzanne suddenly dropped her favorite subject and moved on. “Now, for the reason I summoned you. Lynna, be a dear and undo my fasteners.” 

             
“What?” Lynna’s defiant stance, with her hands
planted firmly
on her hips, almost betrayed her true station in life. “You called me up here just to unfasten your gown?” A quelling glance from her
aunt ceased her impending rebuke
. No one must learn the secret of her birthright that only she, her aunt, and, unfortunately, Joshua Jordan shared.

             
A withering look in Suzanne's eyes begged the question; “And what would be
my error if I had?
Must I remind you that you are both employees of my father
,
and reside in a cottage graciously allocated by the same?” But instead, for reasons that eluded her, Suzanne chose not to speak her mind. She
simply
was
no
t feeling argumentative today. “Of course not
,
silly. I would but ask you
to
model this gown for me. If I see it on you, I can form an image in my mind of the accessories that would best offset the gown. You know, pretend
you are
a dressmaker’s dummy.” Giggling, she stepped out of the gown and admired her slim figure in the mirror while Lynna disrobed.

             
The soft folds of expensive silk fell caressin
gly around Lynna
. She closed her eyes and released a contented sigh, marveling at the long forgotten feeling of expensive material against her skin as her aunt moved behind her to fasten the gown.

             
Judith tugged, pulled and shifted to no avail. “Lynna darling, you seem to have….um….expanded in certain areas. For the life of me I cannot seem to get the gown…fastened. Why, up until this summer I used the exact same measurements when sewing… for the two of you.” Judith peered over Lynna's shoulder to see a mortified Suzanne, her face flaming at the sight of Lynna's bosom spilling over the low cut bodice. She had insisted the gown be cut daringly low, but witnessing
the sight of
Lynna’s overflowing cleavage only served to infuriate her.

             
The Negro girl's fanning increased a degree as she savored the high and mighty Miss Suzanne's burning cheeks and flaming neck. Suzanne most thoroughly enjoyed humiliating others; however, it was a rare occasion indeed when she received the same treatment in turn.

             
Witnessing the rush of blood to Suzanne's upper extremities and the rage gleaming in her eyes
,
Lynna quickly removed the gown and sprea
d it carefully on the bed. “It…
looks much better on you, Suzanne.”

             
“Yes, I agree.” As she dressed, Suzanne studied Lynna with narrowed eyes and several unkind thoughts. True, Lynna's measurements had blossomed in the past year, whereas her own had remained virtually the same. The girls were a study in contra
s
t.

             
Lynna's hair was the color of spun gold. The sun's rays shining through the open balcony doors added a glowing luster to her soft, golden, waist
-
length mane. Suzanne's hair resembled a raven’s wing, so black the same sun reflected gleaming blue highlights.

             
Their eyes were no less different. Lynna's eyes were shimmering pools of summer sky blue crystal that changed with her every emotion. They sparkled like brilliant diamonds when she was happy, shone sadness in their glistening depths, and snapped with defiance when angry. Suzanne's eyes were brown with green flecks, admittedly not one of her best features.

             
Both girls had been blessed at birth with the pearly white skin so cherished by Southern women. They protected their skin from the ravages of the sun with parasols, hats, sunbonnets, and nightly
applications of buttermilk. However
the vast majority of them chose to avoid the sun entirely, as did Suzanne, and ventured outside only in early morning or late evening.

             
A wicked and triumphant glow spread across Suzanne's pretty features. Lynna may be more generously endowed, that was painfully obvious, but she could tell by the girl’s reddening nose and cheeks
that she had
been outside again
,
dreadfully unprotected from the harsh rays of
the
sun. Be patient, she thought callously. A few more days in the sun and the careless girl would have skin like shoe leather. Feeling much better with herself, Suzanne thanked Lynna graciously for her assistance
,
and still in her chemise
,
climbed into bed for her afternoon nap, thus dismissing them.

             
No sooner had Judith closed the door than Suzanne's head filled with the remembrance of strong arms crushing her against a hard, lean body and soft, sweet lips lowering to hers. A shiver passed over her even though
the afternoon heat was atrocious
. Sleep was a long time in coming as a pulsating, persistent ache settled into a tight knot of desire in the sensitive spot between her legs and she reached to remedy it.