Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (13 page)

"Oui,
when it floods, it is not pleasant. But as I told
you, we love our River; when one loves, one must take the
bitter with the sweet."

Judah couldn't keep from laughing. Her little face was
drawn up with such concern, and she appeared much
older at that moment. With a sudden impulse, he reached
out and hugged her to him. "Well, little one, you are my first friend in New Orleans. Perhaps you and your sister
will be my only friends."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his broad
shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She did
not want to be just his friend. Oh, no, she wanted to be so much more.
Tb
her, his arms encased her in a dream
world; she could almost imagine what it would feel like to
be kissed by him.

Liberty raised her face, and met the soft look in his eyes. With a daring that came from her newfound love, she raised up on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

For the briefest moment, Judah's hands came up to cup
her head, and he deepened the kiss. Liberty felt her breathing stop as his lips pressed more tightly against
hers. Then suddenly, he jerked his head up and roughly
pushed her aside.

Judah drew in several steadying breaths, before he spoke in a shaky voice. "Don't ever do that again,
Liberty." Anger flashed in his eyes. "Do you know what can happen to you if you go around kissing strange men?
If I were of a mind to, I could have easily taken advantage of your innocence."

Embarrassed by his stinging words, she backed away
from him, then turned and dashed out of the barn, to race down the brick walk toward her horse. In the distance she could hear him calling out to her, but she didn't turn around. Gathering up a handful of Goliath's mane, she bounded onto his back and galloped toward the house.

Tears and raindrops washed down her face. She loved
Judah Slaughter, and he thought she was just a trouble
some child. Why had she acted so boldly with him? They were having such a wonderful time before she had spoiled
it.

Liberty rode Goliath up to the docks. Bounding to the
ground, she jumped into her skiff, knowing her horse would find his way back to the stable.

The heavy rain did not deter her from her course—she
needed to see Zippora. Her only friend would explain
what was happening to her mind and body since she had
met Judah Slaughter. Perhaps Zippora had a potion that
would wipe him from her heart. No, she wanted to keep the image of him in her heart forever.

Zippora held Liberty in her arms and spoke soothingly
to her as she cried out her heartache. When it was over,
she handed the girl an ivory comb and stood her before a
mirror.

"From this day forward, you will not go about the
countryside looking like a drowned river rat. You will
learn to dress and move with pride. You are no longer a child. If you have the heart of a woman, you must act like
a woman."

Through the mirror, Liberty stared into Zippora's
strange yellow eyes. "Do you think I will ever be pretty?"

"How can I say? I am not a fortuneteller. You will
never look other than you do today, unless you take pride
in who you are. It is time you stopped running from life
and faced some truths, Liberty Boudreaux. Most of us only have one chance at happiness, and it does not
usually land in our laps. Anything worthwhile must be
earned, or it has no value. Regardless of what you believe, your appearance does matter."

Liberty was finding that Zippora often spoke in riddles,
and she did not always understand her meaning. "I
suppose on several occasions I have been an embarrass
ment to my family. My mother is justified in her criticism."

"I am glad you see this for yourself."

Liberty smiled. "I will do as you say. Will you teach me
how to become a lady?"

"This I will do."

Liberty hugged Zippora before turning away. "I am
going to be pretty, just you wait and see. Judah will one
day look at me and think I am beautiful."

Zippora watched as the young girl ran down the path to
her boat.
"Oui,
little one," she said aloud, "you will one
day be a beauty, but it will be more of a curse to you than
a blessing. I will watch over you if I can."

It was almost sundown by the time Liberty reached
home. The clouds had cleared, and a sky of dark purple
dominated the western horizon. Her heart was lighter as
she picked a wild rose and slipped it behind her ear. The
talk with Zippora had given her a new direction in life. If
it were possible, she would win Judah Slaughter. She hoped he would not sail away before she could put her
new plan into effect. There was not much money for new
clothing. Perhaps she could take some of Bandera's old gowns, those that would be flattering to her skin and hair
coloring, and have them restyled for herself.

Liberty's head was so filled with plans that she had no
warning there were guests in the house until it was too
late. Before entering, she wiped her muddy boots on the mat. As she made her way toward the stairs, she hummed a happy little tune. Her mind was not on her appearance,
and for that moment she had forgotten that she wore damp trousers.

Oralee was coming down the stairs when she encoun
tered Liberty. The maid's eyes roved over Liberty's wet
garments and she shook her head.

"Mon dieu,
will you never learn to be a lady? You
know your mother will not like you to come dragging in
looking like a barnyard cat. Your sister has guests. M'sieu
Sebastian is here with another gentleman. You must get
upstairs quickly before you are discovered."
Hearing voices and laughter coming from the salon,
Liberty hastened to the stairs. If Judah was with Sebastian,
she certainly did not want him to see her until she had
changed into a gown. Every time they met, she looked less than favorable. She wanted tonight to be different.

In her haste, Liberty caught her foot on the edge of the
tattered rug, and she lost her balance. She clutched at the banister as she felt her body tumble backward. Rolling
down three steps, she landed with a thud against the ornate pedestal. Liberty felt pain shoot through her side
as she helplessly watched the bust of Louis XVI teeter on
the edge of the pedestal.

"No!" she cried, reaching out her hand to her father's most valued treasure. The statue had been presented to her father by the king himself, when, as a young man, Louis Boudreaux had visited France on his grand tour.
The pain in her side did not matter. It was not important
that her mother and sister came rushing out of the salon
to see what the commotion was. She did not care that
Sebastian Montesquieu was staring at her with disbelief
written on his face. The only thing that was important was to save her father's treasure.

Lunging forward, she watched in horror as the bust tipped over the edge and fell crashing to the floor. For
what seemed like an eternity, a hush fell over the house.
Liberty crawled over to the broken treasure, tenderly touching the shattered fragments. She raised tear-bright
eyes to her mother, whose face was rigid with anger; then
she spoke, a sob in her voice.

"I am sorry,
Maman.
I did not intend—"

"That's right, Liberty, you never intend to cause trou
ble, but you always do. Go to your room at once. I will
attend to you later."

Liberty felt utter humiliation when she saw the slight smile on Sebastian's face. He made her aware that her
tangled hair had spilled across her face, that her clothing
was rumpled and muddy. Liberty's heart skipped a beat
when she saw Judah Slaughter looking down at her with
sympathy in his eyes. Now her humiliation was complete.
The worst that could happen had happened.

Without ceremony Judah reached out his hand, and she
placed hers in his warm clasp. With a short tug, he helped
her to her feet. "This, too, shall pass," he whispered near
her ear, as if he knew what she was feeling.

Shame kept Liberty from meeting Judah's eyes, as she murmured a hasty, thank you. Worse than her embarrass
ment was the fact that she had destroyed her father's
treasure. Without a backward glance, she hurried up the
stairs, wishing she were dead. After today, how would she
ever face Judah? On entering her room, Liberty threw herself down on the bed and stared, dry-eyed, out the window.

This evening her reckless ways had brought shame on
her mother and a loss to her father. She made a silent vow
that this was the last day she would act without consider
ing the consequences. Zippora was right, it was time she
behaved like a woman.

Hours passed and the house became quiet. Oralee had
brought Liberty a tray of food, but it sat on the small table, uneaten. Liberty paced the floor, knowing the
hardest thing she would ever have to do in her whole life
would be to face her father and explain to him that she
had broken his bust of Louis XVI. She knew he must be
home by now. As difficult as it was, she would have to tell
him how sorry she was.

Squaring her shoulders and setting her chin, she slowly
descended the stairs. Even though the rest of the house
slept, she knew her father would still be working on his
ledgers. Rapping on the door, she entered at his invitation.

Louis, seeing his daughter's stricken face, motioned her
closer. She stood stiffly at the edge of his big mahogany
desk, trying to gather the courage to tell him of her sin.

"Come here, Liberty. Nothing can be so dreadful as to
make you this sad."

She took his hand. "This is worse than dreadful, Papa. I have done the unforgivable." Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she tried to turn away; but her father would not allow it. "What is your infraction,
ma chere?"
he asked kindly.

"I . . . broke your bust of Louis XVI!" she cried out. "It was an accident, but none the less unforgivable."

He raised her face and wiped her tears away with his
thumb. "That old thing. It is just as well that it is broken. We are about to become a new nation. It is time to throw
off the monarchy and embrace a president."

Liberty searched his face, knowing he treasured the
bust more than anything he possessed, outside Briar Oaks
itself. "I know you loved that statue, Papa. You are just
saying that to make me feel better."

He placed his cheek next to hers. "Things are not
important, Liberty—people are important. As far as I am
concerned, that old bust isn't worth one of your precious
tears."

Liberty threw her arms around her father. He was the
kindest man she had ever known. He had demonstrated
how much he loved her tonight by not making her feel
guilty. Fresh tears wet her eyes, and she mumbled against
his shoulder.

"I hope if I ever have children of my own, I will remember the example you set for me tonight, Papa."

"What example is that, my dearest daughter?"

She smiled through her tears. "That people are more
important than things. I do not believe I shall ever spank a child of mine, no matter what he or she may break."

Her father was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was in a trembling voice. "I cannot tell you what it means for you to say that to me, Liberty. You are my only child, and I love you more than anything else in the world. My
father was a cruel, unloving man. I swore that I would be
a better father to my children than he was to me. I hope I
have at least succeeded in that. It seems that I have failed
in everything else."

"Oh, no, Papa, you are not a failure. No one ever had
a kinder, more loving father than you. I count myself very
fortunate."

Louis took his daughter by the shoulders and led her to
the window. "Look out there,
ma chere.
Briar Oaks will
one day belong to you." He smiled down at her sadly. "If
I can manage to save it for you, this will pass to you as a
trust for your children. My hope is, that along with the land, I can pass love through you to future generations.
This is the legacy I will leave you. That bust of a French
king was not worth one handful of Briar Oak's bottom land, Liberty—always remember that."