The black swan (29 page)

"Miss Dulcie!" cried Claudine, scandalized. "You cain't say that!"

Dulcie, giggling softly, swept out of the door into the hall.

She paused on the top step, one hand prettily on the rail. In the wide lower hall with its rose-patterned hooked rug were Birdie and Blythe Saunders, as grown up as herself, and their cousins, Katherine and Roberta Baxter. Strutting around the outskirts were Glenn Saunders and his attractive brother, Todd; Lowell Hume; and Conroy and Leroy Biggs.

Glenn saw Dulcie first. He stood staring, his mouth hanging ajar at the unaccustomed vision of Dulcie in a silken gown.

She was small and delicately formed, with a tiny waist and ample breasts that showed a hint of curve at her modest square neckline. Her deep auburn hair was parted in the center and combed down to form a shining wave toward her high cheekbones. Below the wave, curls hung gleaming to her shoulders. Her eyes were glowing amber, fringed with long thick lashes. Her straight narrow nose turned up a bit on the end; her full lips parted now to show even white teeth.

She descended the stairs in smooth gliding motions as Claudine had so patiently taught her. It was like walking into a maelstrom of hugs and kisses and squeals of delight from the girls.

As always, Glenn stood and listened as the others spoke so glibly, wishing that the fury of feeling that always captured his tongue and his sense in Dulcie's presence would release him just this once. He stood at Dulcie's side, feeling for her hand hidden in the folds of her skirt. With a sense of warm possessiveness he grasped it, pressing it against his thigh; but all he could say was, "Birthday girl, youah pretty as a picture."

Dulcie smiled on them all. "Oh, I'm just so glad y'all could come today! It would hardly be a party if y'all weren't here with me." Then she turned her golden eyes to dazzle Leroy. "Leroy, you're so quiet. Won't anybody let you speak up?"

The grin that spread across Leroy's face was slow and suggestive. "When it comes time for me to speak, Miss Dulcie, no one will keep me from it."

The others laughed, and Dulcie joined them. She wasn't sure it had been a remark meant to be humorous, but it certainly whetted her curiosity and her sense of daring. Before Dulcie had a chance to answer him, another carriage pulled up. Jan Chilcote and his wife. Blossom, whose fourth pregnancy was hardly showing yet, came to greet Dulcie. For two hours the procession of carriages and horsemen streamed through the front gates of Mossrose.

Once all had been greeted and the older people were seated or milling around talking with Jem and Patricia, Dulcie herded the chattering, giggling young people out to the seating places in the folly and under the grape arbor.

As Dulcie took her own seat, arranged to make her the center of attention, she noticed a soft cushion placed there for her. "Who was the sweet ol' thing who put this cushion here fo' me?" she asked, her eyes already dancing for the unknown admirer. None of them said anything. She had only to look at Glenn's pleased, blushing face to know.

"Miss Dulcie, may I have the pleasure of the first Virginia reel?" It was Todd, with his lofty manner and faintly mocking smile.

Dulcie suddenly found good reason to cool herself with her carved ivory fan. "This evenin's a long way off, Todd,"

she said affectedly. "You might fo'get you'd asked me, an' Ah'd be a lonely li'l wallflowah."

"On youah buthday, Miss Dulcie?" He pretended surprise, imitating her accent perfectly. "Why, Ah'd fo'get mah own name fust!"

Dulcie laughed.

Glenn, who was not especially enjoying the sight of Dulcie looking so raptly into another male's face, particularly that of his older brother, took courage in his hands. "She'll be dancin' the second reel with me."

Todd's eyes grew warmer on Dulcie. "We'll have to let Miss Dulcie decide for herself, won't we?"

She held his gaze for another second before turning lightly to put her hand on Glenn's arm. "I really haven't promised anyone yet." Her eyes sparkled. "I'll dance with . . . with the winner of the tournament!"

Glenn grabbed Dulcie's hands, and they performed a few lively steps of the reel while the others laughed and clapped.

"I sho'ly hope you enjoyed that, Glenn," said Lowell Hume, "since I'm goin' to win the tourney and Miss Dulcie."

A chorus of young, bantering male voices drowned him out.

"Miss Dulcie, will we be havin' a gander pull?" asked Conroy Biggs.

"Ooh, I hope not!" Blythe shuddered with delighted anticipation.

"Well, I think so. Daddy had the gander penned up last night."

Everybody laughed. Half the fun of a gander pull was catching the gander again after he'd escaped from his pen. "We'll go see," said Leroy.

"D'you need some help lookin'?" Roberta asked coquet-tishly. She was half in love with Leroy already. She knew from her last visit here that Leroy was likely to leave her with memories of stolen moments of delight that few youn^ men of his age had the skill or audacity to dare.

Dulcie rose, despite the hampering influence of Glenn, who leaped to his feet in such an excess of politeness that he nearly knocked her over. She put her hand on his arm. "You'll excuse me for a few moments, Glenn?"

Glenn bowed to Dulcie while looking daggers at his nearest kin.

Todd, not in the least affected by Glenn's annoyance, walked leisurely away. The gander was in his nailed-up box, running his long neck and vicious beak out of all the slits, seeking escape. Roberta was feeding him blades of grass. "When does the tiltin' tourney start, Dulcie?"

"Whenever the Whitaker boys get here. The course is marked out." She indicated a long bare area between stables and spinning house, decorated with pennons and bunting of various colors. About twenty feet apart were three arches, twined with more bunting and decorated with flowers.

Dulcie took their attention and their illusionary dreams of victory away from the arches and pointed toward the sand-filled square in the far corner of the area that was for Indian wrestling. Again, visions of two stalwart young men, pitting their strength against one another, jumped into the minds of young girls, who wanted their favorites to win, and of young men, who wanted to prove their prowess before an audience.

Jem had insisted that the tournament be a part of Dul-cie's party. Tournaments were traditional American entertainment, dating back to Colonial times, and were a less lethal imitation of jousts of the Middle Ages. For Jem they were the perfect combination of European pomp and raw American skill.

Their continuing popularity was aided by the novels of Sir Walter Scott, in particular Ivanhoe, written early in the century and still widely read and dreamed over in the romantic South. For young Southern men it was a chance to display horsemanship, athletic skills, and daring, thrilling the ladies. For no young man would enter the lists without flaunting a brightly colored symbol presented to him by a fair maiden. The solemn pageantry, with prancing horses and handsome men in bright costumes, was pleasing to the eye. But the most exciting part, where even the sturdiest young lady was apt to faint, was the flowery speeches of the winner and runners-up in naming the Sovereign of Love and Beauty and her ladies-in-waiting.

Birdie Saunders edged through the group of young people until she came to stand next to Dulcie. Dulcie's eyes sparkled. Turning to Birdie Saunders, she shivered slightly.

"Isn't it romantic, Birdie?" surprised, she saw tears in Birdie's soft brown eyes.

"No," she whispered. "After tonight you'll be all grown up. We won't ever have fun like we used to."

"Oh, Birdie, we will! We'll—"

Stubbornly Birdie shook her head. "It'll never be the same. Remember the naughty, naughty things you jused to do to Glenn?"

Dulcie's nose crinkled as she smiled mischievously. "Who says that has to end?"

Birdie smiled instantly. "Duicie! What are you thinkin'? I'd know that look anytime!"

"He's goin' to the stables. Remember when we poured water—"

Birdie giggled, her tears vanishing. "An' got his good clothes all wet?" Her laughing eyes met Dulcie's, and a decision came.

Quietly they left the group, sneaking around behind the bushes and outbuildings. Duicie said urgently, "Hurry up and distract him, Birdie, while I climb into the hayloft."

Duicie ran into the stables, glancing hastily toward the loft. The ladder wasn't in place, nor was the hayloft near enough to Comet, Glenn's pampered thoroughbred gray. Chewing on her lip, she stamped her foot, raising little dust puffs. Then she smiled, looking overhead to the storage loft located directly over the stalls of Comet and the black stallion next to him. It wouM be the perfect vantage point.

She found the ladder, tucked neatly out of sight. She tugged at its weight, pulling it away from the wall. Wobbling, the ladder stood upright. Then it fell to the floor wih a resounding crash that startled the black horse belonging to her father's business guest.

Struggling, she heaved the ladder up. She let it fall into place, slamming against the flooring of the storage loft directly over the black horse. Whinnying and snorting, the black stallion kicked at the sides of his stall, his eyes walling, his neck arching away from the frightening ladder.

Glenn'll be here before I'm ready! she thought. "Hersel! Hersel, where are you?"

"Ah's heah. Miss Duicie."

"Do something about that horse! He's kicking down his stall."

"Lawsy, lawsy! Whut you done to dat hawse? Dat

animule b'long to Cap'n Tree-main, an' yo' daddy's gwine holler fit to raise de Debbil." He eased into the stall, speaking softly. "Easy now. Whoa, hawse!"

A full water bucket in one hand, her skirts looped up over her arm, Dulcie made her way up the ladder to the storage loft.

"Miss Dulcie, whut kinda debbiltry you up to?" Hersel asked sternly.

"You just soothe that horse and don't talk to me."

"Mastah Jem gwine skin both us'ns iffen you doan quit dat. Dem bo'ds gwine gib way." Then as Dulcie went on with her struggle, sloshing water below her, Hersel said, "Ah's gittin' outer heah. Ain't gwine be in no place to git de blame."

Birdie's eyes danced as she teased her brother. "Guess I've held you up long enough now, Glenn."

Glenn tweaked her nose. "You're not gonna hold me up at all. I'm goin' to see to my horse."

Birdie giggled. "Come on, I'U go with you."

"What are you two up to now?" Glenn threw back bis head and laughed. "I figured it out this time. You're not gonna get me."

Birdie pushed him toward the stables, but Glenn, smiling maddeningly, did not move.

"Oh, Glenn, please!"

"I'm not fallin' for it this time.'*

"I'll get Dulcie to dance the reels with you! The whole set!"

Glenn raised his eyebrows speculatively. "If you don't come through, I'll . . ."

Dulcie, perched waiting on the floorboards of the storage loft, glanced down anxiously. She could hardly see. Then a man's shadow crossed the bright patch of sunlight at the door. Dulcie dived back into hiding. She heard Glenn below her, moving around. Suddenly the ladder disappeared.

She stood up, alarmed at first, then began to giggle. "Ha, ha, think you caught me, smarty! Come over here, I have a surprise for you!"

He hesitated, then overcome with curiosity, he walked slowly toward the black horse's stall. Dulcie puzzled for

a moment at his silence, then heaved the bucket of water with all her might.

"Sonofabitch!" Adam jumped, balancing on the stall gate, reached overhead to the loft flooring, then swung himself up. In the murky shadows Dulcie edged back to hide herself behind a broken sulky.

He stalked her, muttering, "I've tumbled some in my life, but never with preliminaries like this."

The man loomed before her dripping water. He was large, powerfully built, his face shadowed, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

Dulcie quaked, unable to form a coherent sound. Innocent though she was, she felt the male power emanating from him, stirring her blood and leaving her breathless.

Before he even touched her, she could feel the presence of him enclosing her.

He reached out and grabbed her. He was like the force of a hurricane—wild, untamed, unstoppable. He pulled her against him. Dulcie, in a daze, felt the cool wetness of his frock coat, the long animal hardness of his body.

She started, and began pounding on his chest. "No! no! You can't do this to me—I'm Dulcie Moran!"

"Is Dulcie Moran different from other women?" The warmth of his breath stirred her hair.

"My daddy'll have you horsewhipped!"

He laughed and held her more closely. "How will you explain luring me into the loft?"

Dulcie tensed, all the adventure gone. She began to cry. "Oh, please, please—let me go. I didn't mean to soak you! It was a joke on Glenn!"

"Jokes like that are for children—but then, you're not much more than a child, anyway. Have fun, Dulcie!"

He let her go and jumped down to the stable floor.

Dulcie peered down, worried. "Are you going to tell my daddy?"

"Not this time." He mounted his horse, then looked up at her. On her pretty woman's face played the emotions of an inexperienced child. Momentarily he wondered what it would be like to be the man who introduced Dulcie to love, for he was certain someone would, and soon.

He said lightly, "But if you ever play a woman's game with me again, you'll pay a woman's price."

Adam rode out of the stable.

Dulcie sat down and wept.

Birdie and Glenn ran in. Birdie, seeing the splash marks on the stable floor and hearing Dulcie's sobs, said, "Dulcie! What happened?! Was it that man? Did he hurt you?"

Glenn hurried to put up the ladder. Birdie climbed up.

"Oh, Birdie, don't make me talk about it now! I just can't!"

Glenn called, "Dulcie, are you all right?"

"Birdie, sneak me into the house! I can't see anybody lookin' like this!"

As Dulcie rounded the back of the house, the six Whit-akers, four sons and two daughters, arrived closely followed by their parents and grandparents. Dulcie and Birdie crept up the servants' stairway. Claudine helped her change her dress while Birdie gently bathed her face, holding cold cloths against her puffy eyelids.