Surrender to Love (28 page)

“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed, dipping her fingers into the pail and offering the calf a pool of milk in the cupped palm of her hand.  “She’s so smart.  And do you know what, Michael?  She’s only a few days old, and she even recognized me when I came to see her this morning.”

Michael smirked as he watched her fawn over the spotted heifer.  She didn’t even flinch when the calf butted hard against the pail, splashing a wave of fresh milk over the pressed skirts of her red calico; instead she laughed, and scolded with a smile and a playful shake of her finger.  Somehow, he just didn’t have the heart to tell her that the recognition was due to the bucket…and food.

So innocent she still was after all she had been through – and so readily believing.  Like the way she had assumed the spotted calf had fallen in love with her in the blink of an eye.  Like the same way he had, he supposed – fallen for her the very instant he had laid eyes on her in Havana.

Sabine had changed so much since them.  Since
that night in Havana.  Since those days with Colón.  Gone with the haunted, hunted look that continually lurked behind those emerald eyes, the fearful, guarded movements of her body whenever he entered the room.  Her eyes shone, now, with laughter – sparkling as they fondly gazed upon him; and she even trusted her now – always smiled as she looked him, bravely reaching out to touch him tenderly on the arm as she so often did when speaking with him.

“I have to go,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.  “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Wouldn’t you like something to eat first?  I made a pie this morning.”

“They’re waiting.  I really should go.”

But he remained where he stood, and she looked at him, resting her head on her arms as she leaned over the stall door.  In an instant he was taken by her wide eyes, her full lips parted, tempting…waiting to be taken.  What would she do if he bent over and kissed her, laid her back in that sweet smelling straw and –

Damn.  He was doing it again, and as much as he wanted to,
he wasn’t about to give in to the tightening in his groin.  He couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be fair.  She wasn’t some cheap Cuban whore who’d lie down for a couple of pesos and then walk away.  She’d expect things from him – commitment, marriage.  Things he couldn’t offer her.  Not now.  Probably not ever.

Even if he could give her the world, and all the riches in it, she’d have to come to him first – give him some sort of sign that she wanted him.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said once again, grinning, and he ruffled her hair playfully before turning away.  “Stay out of trouble.”

XXX

Certainly it must have been forgotten by the last people who had lived here and helped manage the Roderigues plantation.

Setting down her egg basket, Sabine began to sift through the remains of the musty covering of old hay until the worn traveling trunk was revealed.  Michael must have known it was up here; why hadn’t he bothered to move it from the loft?  There might be beautiful things inside just waiting to be discovered
– waiting to be admired and needed and appreciated.

Hesitantly she reached out, curiously tracing the aged and cracked leather straps with her fingers.  She shouldn’t even consider snooping in its contents.  They weren’t any concern of hers.

But imagine the riches that might be found inside such a treasure chest.  Jewels and silks and diamonds.  Just like a pirate’s cache patiently waiting to be discovered.

She shouldn’t even begin to contemplate it.

The temptation was too great to resist.

Besides, Michael wasn’t due to return for another three hours at least, and he would never even know that she had sneaked a quick peek inside.  She could have the articles stored away in their rightful places and supper started before he even walked through the door.

And there might be some things in that trunk that could be handy around the house.  For almost weeks she had stared at stark windows and bare tables, and in that time she had almost pulled out her hair for the sterility of it all.  The place needed comfortable, familiar articles to truly make it a home – her home.  Their home.

Bracing her knees against the base of the trunk
, she wrestled with the fastenings until they finally gave way, and she carefully lifted the lid, her breath arresting in her breast as her eyes feasted on the contents.  Beautiful things.  Glorious, rich articles that lay neatly packed and folded within the confines of the paper-lined trunk.

One after the other, Sabine examined dozens of finely fashioned, hand-crocheted doilies and several sets of decorative draperies.  She ran her hands over them appreciatively, examining the tiny embroidery stitches as she carefully unfolded the starched linen of a table covering.

And fancy jewelry….  The carved wooden box below the crochet work held ropes of sumptuous jewelry necklaces entwined with fragile earbobs and brooches.  So beautiful they were, and she could not keep from fastening one of the pearl chokers around her neck.  A fancy lady with fancy jewels.  That’s what she was, she thought, lifting her chin as she fingered the strands lovingly.  Just like one of the elegant society women she had so frequently envied from her shop window in New Orleans.

Her delicate fingers dug deeper in the hopes of finding a mirror in which to view herself.  Instead, they touched upon a bundle of papers, and she drew out a group of letters neatly bound with a red silk ribbon.

They’re not yours to read,
the small voice inside her head insisted as she slowly turned the packet over in her hand, examining the crisp folds of the paper, the red wax seals that once closed the pages to prying eyes. 
They’re probably written in Spanish.

Well, then, if they were, she wouldn’t understand them anyway, and no one would be the worse for her incessant curiosity, Sabine considered, gnawing her lip indecisively.

You shouldn’t be doing this,
the small voice warned as her nimble fingers plucked at the tie. 
Just put those letters back.  They’re going to get you nothing but trouble.

But she ignored the little voice in her head and unfolded the crisp paper, smoothing it carefully in her lap before reading it.  Gentle words in a masculine hand
graced the pages to a woman named Julia – words that spoke of love and devotion and the promise of a new day.  And Sabine devoured each word, each sentence, wishing fervently that the moving proclamations of love were meant for her.

She sighed, her heart heavy with longing.  Was she so terribly wro
ng that she might never hear such words of her very own?  Or would she have to be forever content with the shameless prying into the heart of a man she had never met?

And would Michael ever think of her in the same manner in which this man looked to this woman Julia?  Would he someday see her as a woman who had wants and needs and desires of being loved?

She released a sigh, fighting back the uncomfortable wave of frustration that swept through her.  She wanted him so –wanted him more than any woman should ever want a man.  And lately, every time she was in his presence she fought the urge to go to him, to feel the lean curve of his muscles beneath her hands as she snaked her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to meet his.

How could she ever think of doing suc
h things, she thought angrily, pushing the images forcefully from her mind.  Was she becoming so depraved in this wild country that she was losing any sense of propriety she had?  What had happened to the well-bred lady who blushed whenever a man looked her way?  Who never considered such things as the heat of a man’s touch – Michael’s touch – and the way his kisses had captured her, branded her as his very own?

Her stomach contracted as her gaze slowly reached the bottom of the last page, the sour taste of recognition rising to the back of her throat a her heart’s beat arrested in her breast. 
Devotedly yours, in love, for ever and always, Michael Robert Pierson.”

Quickly she folded the papers with an unsteady hands, tears smarting her eyes, and suddenly she didn’t want to know that Michael had once cherished someone as fervently as she now did him.

A violent jerk on her arm brought Sabine abruptly to her feet, and the letters, with their silk ribbon, scattered at random on the loose hay.  Her eyes widened in guilt and apprehension as she looked upon Michael’s stormy face, his mouth a tight, white line, the muscles in his jaw twitching in anger.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing up here?” he snapped at her furiously.

A swift hand came to her throat and tore the beautiful pearls from where they lay, and they fell to the loft floor, the only sound breaking the electrified silence between them.

“Well?”  He shook her hard, demanding an explanation as he tightened the harsh grip on her arms.  “God
dammit,
answer me.
”

The fury in his face left Sabine mute,
guilt and terror paralyzing her vocal cords and she tore her gaze from his, but he forced her to look into the icy rage of his blue eyes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders.

“Michael, I didn’t mean – “

“You didn’t
mean,
” he ground out between clenched teeth.  “What didn’t you
mean,
Sabine?  To look through things that weren’t yours?  To go where you didn’t belong?”

His words shouted at her painfully.  Then abruptly he drew back a hand, and Sabine tore frantically from him, her unheeded screams of terror echoing in her ears as she sank to the floor.  Covering her head with trembling hands, she readied herself in instinctive preparation for the blows she felt positive would follow.

“Please,” she beseeched between her sobs as she cowered before him.  “Please don’t.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

A score of muttered curses reached her ears, followed by the repeating echo of Michael’s fist
striking the roughly cut boards of the barn’s wall, and Sabine remained where she lay, her body trembling with the fear that raced through her.

She no longer knew the man before her.

“Get this out of here,” came his cold instructions as he walked away.  “”Pack it up.  Put it away.  And I never want to see you up here again.”

His footsteps retreated down the ladder and Sabine rose slowly, silently from the hay-strewn floor
, wiping away the remainder of her stray tears.  Why?  Why had she been so foolish in the first place?  She knew she had no reason to be up here.  But had she even bothered to listen to her conscience?  No!  Now everything that could have been,
should have been,
was ruined.

She lay her head on her arms, tears starting again with renewed hurt.  He would never want her now.  And most certainly he would send her away – send her so far that she might never have the opportunity to feel so whole, so free as she did when she was with him.

And it was all her fault.

XXX

Michael bit back another string of curses as he examined the cuts and bruises across his knuckles.

Damn her for dredging up all those memories.  And damn himself for losing control the way he had.

He raked a hand through his hair tiredly as he sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling in frustration.  That trunk.  That damned trunk he had kept when Julia first left; when he still thought he might have a tiny remnant of caring for her.  A small part of him had actually hoped she might come to her senses and return to him.

What a fool he was then.  Eventually he had forgotten about it up there in the loft…until today.  Until Sabine uncovered all those memories of a woman he would have sooner put behind him.

Releasing a sigh, he rose from his seat to pace the floor restlessly.  She had no right to be up there, he thought angrily as he rubbed away the soreness in his hand.  She had no right to go through things that weren’t hers.

And he had no right to turn on her the way he did.

He had raised a hand to her in anger – almost struck out at her in a fit of rage.  What kind of man was he, anyway?

One not worthy of her,
his conscience reminded him bitterly as he sat down again.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut against the unfamiliar sting of tears, and the indelible image of Sabine, her tiny figure cowering
in a crumpled heap on the floor, flashed in his mind as the bands tightened around his heart.  Ruined.  It was all ruined now.  Her trust in him was utterly destroyed, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit if she just turned away and walked out on him forever.

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

XXX

Her insides twisting with cold uncertainty, Sabine quietly closed the door behind her
as she tentatively entered the kitchen.  Through the doorway she could see Michael sitting in his favorite chair in the front room, his features still hard with fury, his gaze intently fixed on the wall opposite him as the evening’s lengthening shadows stretched far along the patterned wallpaper.

She wanted to go to him - beg his forgiveness – but her legs refused to move, and she stood mutely in the entrance to the sitting room, her hands fussing restlessly within the material of her apron.