Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (32 page)

Liberty wished herself anywhere but where she was. She doubted that the three of them understood how
desperate their situation had become. If she didn't have
money for this year's crops, they would all have to find
another place to live, because the moneylenders would
own Briar Oaks. "I have nothing to spare on clothing. All
the money we have must be used for seed and a new plow."

"Not all," Alicia said, smiling, "last week I found where
you keep the household money in your desk, and I gave it
to Sebastian. He had more need of it than the rest of us. A gentleman should never be without money."

Bandera quickly glanced at her husband. "It isn't fair
that you had money while I am forced to wear these old
rags, Sebastian. It wasn't your money."

Liberty felt her calm slipping. "How much of the money did you take, Alicia?"

"Well ... all of it, but there wasn't that much."

Liberty was angry, knowing that was all the money she
had to buy the seed and tools necessary for the spring crops. She stood up slowly, holding her hand out to Sebastian. "Give me the money."

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, poking his hands in his pockets. "I no longer have it."

"Where is it?"

"I made a bad wager and lost it all," he said flippantly.

Liberty sank down onto her chair, feeling desperate and
alone. "You don't realize what you have done, Sebastian.
That was all the money I had."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I have every confidence you will find some other treasure to sell."

"It isn't fair, Liberty," Bandera stated angrily. "Sebas
tian had no right to the money. Why didn't you give it to
me?"

Liberty stood up and left the room. She had to get away before she said something she would regret. She could feel Briar Oaks slipping away from her. There seemed no way to hold on to it now.

She left the house and quickly made her way toward the
river. What was she going to do? That money had been her last hope of saving her father's home. She made her way to the pier and walked out on the wooden planks to
the very end. Her mind was troubled as she spoke aloud.
"I am sorry, Papa. I have done everything I can to save Briar Oaks, but I fear it was not enough."

Liberty was startled by the sound of footsteps on the
wooden pier. She turned around, expecting to see Sebas
tian, but her heart skipped a beat. Even though it was
dark, she recognized Judah's long stride. No one walked
the way he did, as if he were on the rolling deck of a ship.
She felt cornered, and wondered if he had learned of her
deception and had come to confront her. There was nowhere to run because he blocked her only escape. All she could do was wait for him to approach.

Judah had just ridden up to the house when he saw a
woman running toward the river. From the distance, he
thought it was Bandera, and he blessed his good fortune in finding her alone. He had come here tonight ready to
face Sebastian but had been secretly hoping to see Ban
dera alone.

As he neared, her face was in shadow, but he smelled the familiar sweet scent that he had begun to associate with her since that night in Zippora's cabin. "I was surprised to find you living at Briar Oaks, Bandera. I
thought you and Sebastian would be well settled in Bend
of the River by now."

"You have me confused with someone else," Liberty
answered, knowing she would never again pretend to be
her sister. "I am not Bandera."

Judah reached out and tilted her face up to the moon
light. When his eyes moved over the beautiful, unfamiliar
features, he dropped his hand and stepped back. "I am
sorry. Please forgive me,
Mademoiselle.
It was my mis
take. Forgive the intrusion—I will leave now." Yet he was
reluctant to go, because there was something familiar
about this startlingly beautiful woman. His eyes fastened
on her features, and he shook his head in confusion.

"Do I know you?" Even in the half-darkness, he could
tell she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen.

"You once did, Monsieur Slaughter. I do not believe you know me at all now."

"Are you someone I met at a party or a ball?"

Liberty felt pain in her heart. He had forgotten all
about her, while there had not been a day that she did not
think of him.
"Oui.
I first met you at a ball."

"I see," he said in a puzzled voice. "You must be one of
Bandera's friends. I am sorry, but I do not recall your name."

Liberty turned her back to him and stared out on the river. It hurt to know that Judah looked at her with the
eyes of a stranger. Were the gods angry with her that they
tormented her so? "I am no one of importance,
Monsieur.
You do not know me very well."

At that moment Oralee's voice could be heard, calling
from the path that led to the house. "Liberty, I know you
are out here. I have brought your cloak. I have told you and told you that this night air will be the death of you."

"Good night,
Monsieur,"
Liberty said as she turned to
step around Judah. "I am just coming in, Oralee. I won't be needing the cloak."

By now Oralee was at the pier and could see that a
gentleman was with Liberty. "Do you want me to wait for
you,
ma, petite?"
she asked.

Judah stared at Liberty in disbelief. No, this woman
could not be his little one. Liberty was just a child. What
cruel game was this?

As Liberty moved toward Oralee, Judah rushed after her, too bemused to speak. When Liberty took the cape and pulled it around her shoulders, she spoke to him.
"You see, we did first meet at a ball if you will remember,
Monsieur"

Oralee walked away, shaking her head and mumbling about how some people didn't have sense enough to come
in out of the cold.

"Liberty," Judah said, finally finding his voice, "you
were not supposed to grow up." He searched for the
freckle-faced little girl in this lovely vision. "This isn't fair," he said, too stunned to comprehend the nagging feeling that haunted him.

"Many things are not fair, Judah. You should know that by now."

"I . . . how are you?" he stammered like a schoolboy.

"I have been better, but no matter. Should you be here?
Are you not afraid the authorities will find you?"

"I have been cleared of all charges," he said, still in a quandary. "Are you cold?" he asked, as she shivered. He
stepped closer to Liberty, but stopped short of touching her.

"No, I am not cold. What do you mean, Judah? Are you no longer a hunted man?"

"Thanks to Andrew Jackson, who believed in my inno
cence, I am no longer a fugitive."

"I do not understand."

"It is not important. I want to hear all about you.
What have you been doing? Are your mother and father
well? How is Zippora?"

"Zippora is well." She took a deep swallow. "My mother and father are ... no longer living. I received word of their deaths the day you left New Orleans."

He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Poor little one. I am grieved by your sorrow. It seems we
have both lost our families."

She drew back and his hand fell away. "What do you
mean we have both lost our families? I know your father
is dead, but surely you know . . . you must have been told
that . . . have you not heard about your mother and
grandfather?"

"Yes, and there is not a day that goes by that I do not
curse Sebastian for their deaths."

Liberty frantically reached for Judah. "No, you do not
understand, Judah. Your mother and grandfather are not
dead! They have been frantic for some word of you; they
feared
you
were dead."

"What are you saying?" he asked brokenly, trying to deal with his rampaging emotions. He dared not hope that he had heard her correctly.

"Judah, your mother and grandfather are alive. Do you
hear me? They are alive!"

He glanced up at the moon, trying to deal with all that
had hit him in the last few moments. "You would not say
it if it weren't true, would you, Liberty?"

"I can assure you I would not, Judah. You must go to
them at once so they will know that you are unharmed.
Your mother has been beside herself because they received no word . . . but of course you wouldn't have written them if you thought they were dead."

"I don't understand any of this. I thought they were burned in the fire."

"Moses saved them and took them into New Orleans.
Your grandfather needed a doctor, and he thought that
would be the best thing to do. It wasn't until weeks later that your grandfather let anyone know that he and your
mother survived the fire."

Judah felt joy rush through him. "I can hardly credit what you have told me, Liberty. I believe God has given me another chance at life. It is like a miracle."

Liberty felt tears in her eyes as Judah's happiness
touched her heart. "I believe in miracles, Judah. In fact, I
hope God has a few miracles in store for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. You do not have time to stand here talking
with me. Go to your mother."

Judah reached for her hand. "So I shall, little one. But
I will be back tomorrow. I have some unfinished business
here. I am beginning to suspect that . . . but never mind. We will talk tomorrow."

Liberty wondered what Sebastian's reaction would be
when he heard that Judah had returned. She didn't know why Judah was now allowed to walk around a free man,
but she felt happiness for him.
"Oui,
I know you have
unfinished business here. I always knew you would come
back. I just did not know when."

He took her hand and briefly held it to his lips before
releasing it. "Until tomorrow, little one."

"Until tomorrow," she said, as she watched him turn away to be swallowed up by the darkness.

Liberty brushed the tears away, knowing she would
always love Judah but also knowing that most of Judah's
unfinished business concerned Bandera. If he loved her
sister in the same burning way Liberty loved him, then
she pitied him. Bandera would never live up to the picture
of her he had created in his mind. Judah knew Bandera had betrayed him, and still he wanted her.

Liberty now felt the chill of the night and hurried toward the house. The tally books needed her attention.
She had no time for self-pity. Her heart felt bruised and
bleeding, but she was a survivor.

Judah mounted his horse and rode in the direction of Bend of the River. His mind was in a whirl. Too many things had happened at once. His mother was alive! Judah had grieved for her,
death,
and now he would be able to see her!

What strange little quirks a man's life took, he thought.
His eyes had been opened in many ways in the past few
moments. He had been unable to see Liberty very clearly
tonight, but his heart had known her. He remembered the
scent she wore and closed his eyes. He had been such a fool in thinking the woman he wanted was Bandera. A part of him had known all along what his heart was trying to tell him. Bandera had never come to him in Zippora's cabin—it had been Liberty! That was why
visions of Liberty always pushed Bandera to the back of his mind. Tomorrow he would come back to Briar Oaks
and confirm what he already knew. Why had it taken so
long to realize that Liberty was, and always had been, his
heart's desire?

Gabrielle and her father were sitting before the big
fireplace in quiet companionship. Gustave was covered
with a woolen shawl, and would often nod off. Gabrielle
was working on a tapestry to replace the one that had been destroyed by the fire.

The house no longer bore the scars left by the fire. Gustave had put his daughter in charge of restoring it to its former glory.

Not a day had gone by that Gabrielle did not wait for
some word from her son, but it was as if the earth had
swallowed him up without leaving a trace.