Dream Song

by Linda Ladd

  Peeto and a little Negro boy were jumping up and down, waving their arms and yelling at the top of their lungs, while a whole pack of dogs ran in circles, growling and snapping at a large alligator, which Bethany was furiously hitting over the head with her fishing pole.

  "Shoo, shoo, git, git," came her angry cries, and Luke jerked his pistol from his belt, terrified the creature might turn on her. As close as she was, the alligator could bite off her entire leg with one snap of its powerful jaws.

  "Get out of the way!" he yelled, and Bethany jerked around at his shout, backing off as he took aim.

  The bullet hit the big reptile between its ugly eyes. As it writhed about, flipping its long tail in the last throes of death, the dogs went into an absolute frenzy. Luke spurted the stallion toward the boys, but one look at the black anger on the face of le sauvage was all it took for little Rafael. He fled the bayou with flying feet, his eyes round and white in his dark face.

  Bethany pulled Peeto away from the huge black horse, which pranced nervously at the smell of fresh blood, and Luke swung one leg over the saddle, sliding to the ground, his gun still smoking in his hand.

  "Good God, are you out of your mind?" he shouted furiously. "An alligator that size could have killed you!"

  "Alligator? Is that what it was? I've never seen-"

  Luke grabbed her by the shoulders. "Don't you understand how much danger you were in? How much danger Pete was in?"

  His rage intimidated her, to be sure, much more than the alligator had, but Bethany rose to her own defense. "He was big, I admit, but he moved as slow as molasses. Why, he could barely even turn himself around. He never could have caught me."

  Exasperated, Luke ran a hand through his hair, then turned angry eyes back on her. "Caught you? They don't have to catch you. All they have to do is knock you down with their tail or get hold of you with their jaws, so they can drag you under the water and eat you!"

  Bethany's gray eyes widened slowly to the size of silver medallions. "Eat you?" she repeated weakly. "They eat people?"

  Luke nodded, still furious with her, and Bethany took an involuntary step backward, her face mirroring such unadulterated horror that Luke's anger faded somewhat.

  "My God, Beth, there's a sign right there in front of your nose. Can't you read?"

  His cutting rebuke hit Bethany where she was most vulnerable, and she shook off her newfound fear of alligators, her eyes blazing silver fire.

  "Of course, I saw the sign! But, what's the name of this place got to do with alligators, just tell me that?"

  "What's it got to do-" Luke repeated incredulously, then, turned to the sign. "Alligator Bayou. Beware," he read slowly and succinctly. "Didn't that trigger any kind of alarm in that fool head of yours?"

  Bethany stared at the writing on the board, filled with humiliation, then lifted her chin to gather what was left of her tattered pride.

  "So, I made a big mistake," she said, taking Peeto by the hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't see what you're getting so angry about. I made the boys stay behind me, so I was the only one in danger of getting eaten, and nothing happened to me, did it?"

  Luke didn't answer, shaking his head as he reached down to lift Peeto into the saddle. He swung up behind his son, and Bethany picked up her shoes, ready to walk back to the house, when Luke's voice, hard with authority, stopped her in her tracks.

  "You'll ride behind me, Beth."

  He leaned down, catching her around the waist and puling her up behind him just as easily as he had lifted his son. Bethany reluctantly clasped her arms around him as he set his heels to the big stallion, her cheeks flaming as she was forced to hold tightly to his lean, muscular waist, her breasts rubbing intimately against his broad back.

  It wasn't long before the rest of her body, pressed so close against him, began to feel a certain warmth that appalled her. By the time they reached the rear portico of the house, her face was flushed beet-red and was hot to the touch.

  Confused by what was going on in her own body, she slid to the ground as soon as the horse came to a stop. Luke lowered Peeto beside her, his eyes roaming over her face, which was now a becoming rosy hue.

  "Have you made up your mind about being Pete's mother?" he asked conversationally.

  Bethany hesitated, realizing from his expression that he had known all along that she would say yes and hating him for it. But, Peeto was looking up at her, his eyes big and brimming with pleasure.

  "Yes, I want to be his mother."

  "Good. I've brought you the necessary clothes for the wedding. You'll find them on your bed. I'll have the priest here to marry us by the time you get ready."

  Luke walked Onyx away, and Bethany stared after him until Peeto tugged on her hand.

  "Are you really going to be my mother, Beth? Really?"

  Bethany forgot Luke then, kneeling to take the child in her arms. "Yes, Petie, I'm going to be your mother."

  Chapter 7

  "How do you like Raffy?" Bethany asked Peeto from behind the damask dressing screen in her bedchamber as she slipped over her head the dainty pale pink chemise that Luke had chosen for her. She was surprised by his thoughtfulness, and the undergarment felt wonderful against her skin, the silk so soft and smooth. She had never had anything so fine as the lustrous fabric, with its beautiful lace and white satin ribbons.

  "I like Raffy," Peeto admitted from his cross-legged position on the floor. "He knows lots about gators."

  Peeto had decided right off that he liked the sound of that new work, gators, almost as much as he had liked helping Beth scare off the big lizard from the bayou. But, even that wasn't as good as the idea of Bethany being his mother. He smiled to himself just thinking about it.

  "Well, you and Raffy have to stay away from that bayou from now on," Bethany said, stepping into sight. "I got us in enough trouble with Luke by taking the two of you there, and besides that, those alligators are dangerous."

  She considered the size of the one that had slid into the water as they rode off. She hadn't even seen it until then! What if one had been lurking under the water when she waded out to the stump? Her swallow went down hard as she picked up the dress lying across the bed. It was made of fine white lace with short puffed sleeves and a low, square neckline. She turned it over, examining with distaste the long row of tiny pearl buttons.

  "Will you help me fasten this, Petie? Look, there's about a hundred buttons on the back!"

  Peeto bent to look, and Bethany stroked the fragile swirls of lace, thinking it was by far the most magnificent gown she had ever seen, which made her all the more reluctant to don it. She had only had one other dress in her life, a plain gray wool like the ones worn by the other Younger servants. She couldn't deny that she had dreamed about such a gown as this, especially in the orphanage when she had closed her eyes and imagined herself in a bridal dress of white lace. In those childhood visions, her friend, Marcus, had always been the groom, mainly because he was the only boy she knew who was close to her own age. That was before he had gone downriver with Captain Hosie to sign up on a sailing ship. Now, Luke Randall, with his piercing green eyes that could look right through her, would stand beside her.

  She pulled the dress over her head, letting the flowing skirts settle to the floor with the rustle of expensive silk and lace. Then, she turned around for Peeto to work on the buttons. He had no trouble with them until he reached those at the middle of her back.

  "They won't go in," he said, bending over the task with a concentrated frown.

  Bethany sucked in her breath so he could finish, then moved to the mirror, feeling like a pig stuffed in a keg.

  "I can't wear this," she exclaimed in dismay, staring at the way the tight bodice pushed her breasts upward into soft mounds of bare flesh, more than noticeable above the delicate scalloped lace edging the low décolletage.

  "Marster Luke bez waitin' for zou, Mamzelle Beth," piped Raffys little voice from the doorway, then he beamed his wide, gap-toothed smile at Peeto.
r />   "Lookee here at what I's gots."

  What he had was a big green bullfrog in a crock jar. Peeto immediately reached in and picked up the creature to examine its bumpy back under the nearest candle.

  "He's a big'un," he admitted solemnly.

  "Does Tante Chloe know you have that frog in the house?" Bethany asked, trying to tug her bodice up enough to hide her nearly naked bosom.

  "Oui, mamzelle. She uses frog spit when she mague her medicines and charms."

  Bethany wrinkled her slim nose and made a solemn vow never to be sick enough to have to swallow any of Tante Chloe's remedies. Poor Michelle, she thought, recalling the spoonful of tonic that had been fed to her not an hour ago.

  "What do you mean by charms, Raffy?" Bethany asked.

  Raffy glanced around as if for invisible eavesdroppers. "Why, de hoodoo gris-gris, mamzelle. To keep away de evil ones and bring de luck. Like dis one." He held up a little cloth bag that was tied around his neck.

  Bethany bent for a closer look. "Maybe that's what I need tonight," she murmured, more to herself than to the boys.

  "Zou can wears mine," Raffy offered generously. "I's don't minds, iv zou promise to give it back afores I's goes to sleep."

  Bethany looked at him quickly, but his offer had been quite serious. So, was her answer. "Thank you kindly, Raffy, but I guess it wouldn't match my dress."

  Both boys agreed with sage nods then turned to a more interesting subject as the frog gave a hoarse croak.

  "Tante Chloe say I's could bez Marster Pete's boy, iv zou pliz," Raffy said to Bethany in an abrupt change of subject.

  Bethany was somewhat startled by the designation he used for Peeto, but he was right. Peeto was the young master. Someday he would own Cantigny.

  "That sounds pretty good, since you're already friends. What do you do if you're his boy?"

  "I's jez gots to keep close to 'im and helps 'im gets his clothes on in de morning. And, I's gets to sleep in his room at night."

  The boys grinned at each other as they contemplated what that could mean.

  "You wanna see how far he can jump?" suggested Peeto, still intrigued by the bullfrog's lumpy back.

  Raffy nodded with enthusiasm, and Bethany smiled as they exited by the outside gallery. They were fast becoming good friends, exactly what Peeto needed. He had never had a friend his own age, had never been around other children. Already Peeto was coming out of his shell with Raffy. After all, they both liked frogs and gators. What else could she ask for?

  "Are you quite sure you want to go through with this?"

  At Andrew's question, Luke looked up. "I explained my reasons to you once. I don't see any need to belabor them," he said, taking a drink from the snifter he held idly in his hand.

  "A rather cold-blooded approach to marriage, I must say," Andrew pointed out. "Not that I ever expected you to marry again. You've certainly made a point to avoid commitments in the past."

  "I'm doing it for the boy, as you well know. He loves her, and she'll take good care of him for me."

  "So, would Tante Chloe or any other Creole mammy, and from what little I've seen thus far, Bethany Cole's barely reached womanhood. She acts and dresses like a tomboy, yet you stand back, blithely expecting her to take over the reins of running a place like Cantigny?"

  "With your help, she can do it. She's a bright girl-you'll find that out in time-and she's got guts, too. More than most men I've known. As far as her clothes go, I got her a dress to wear when I was in town this morning. More are being made right now."

  "You got her a dress? How'd you manage that? The ladies I know need about a dozen fittings before they even get a bloody gown on."

  "What the hell difference does it make?" Luke said, suddenly impatient with his brother's questions. "I just told Madame Josephine that Beth was little and boyish and stood almost to my shoulder, and she did the rest. Now, why don't you go see if Pére Demongeot has arrived yet? Beth should be down any minute now."

  Andrew shrugged, well acquainted, since his boyhood with Luke's short temper, but he was more than convinced that his older brother was making a huge mistake. He rose to summon the priest, then stopped as Luke's tomboy bride appeared in the doorway. His eyes riveted on her in disbelief, then moved to Luke. His brother was staring at the diminutive beauty, his mouth slightly agape. Amused at his brother's expression, Andrew spoke so that only Luke could hear him. "I think boyish was the word you used, brother."

  Andrew gave a slight bow in Bethany's direction, then strode off to see if he could find the priest.

  Bethany watched him depart, feeling idiotic, especially when Luke Randall just stood there staring at her without saying a word. She was nervous enough, afraid she'd bust out of the bodice and tear the expensive lace, as tight and uncomfortable as it was. She stiffened as his gaze lowered to the immodest display of her breasts, and bit her lower lip as his regard lingered there long enough to send a flush creeping up her neck.

  "I see that I underestimated you again. The dress is much too tight. Madame Josephine will have to alter it when she brings the others."

  "What others?"

  "I ordered you a wardrobe suitable for the mistress of Cantigny. Once you're my wife, I can't have you running around looking like a river boatman. You look good in a dress," he added as an afterthought.

  As he continued to appraise her, Bethany blushed, feeling gawky and ill at ease. It didn't help her state of mind to know she would have to wear such clothes in the future. She preferred her old pants and shirts. But, the gown was beautiful, and perhaps if the new ones weren't so tight, it wouldn't be so bad to wear them.

  "The priest will marry us in the library," Luke told her, and Bethany tried to hide her shiver as his long fingers closed over her bare elbow.

  Memories stirred to disconcert her even more, memories of the way she had felt when she had been pressed so close against Luke in the saddle. Feelings she didn't really understand, but knew she shouldn't be having, feelings she didn't want. He had made it clear he only saw her as Peeto's new mother. He didn't want her in any other way, so she had nothing to worry about.

  In the library, Pére Demongeot awaited them with Andrew at his side. The priest was an old man with white hair and quick black eyes, and he smiled at Bethany as Luke led her forward. She stood quietly at Luke's side, venturing a surreptitious sidelong glance up at her husband-to-be, acutely aware of his great height and size, of his overwhelming virility, of the power over her life she was willingly giving him by agreeing to become his wife. More shivers came, rippling down her back beneath the long row of pearl buttons.

  The priest began to speak in Creole, so she wasn't even sure what he was saying, which further unnerved her. She watched the aged man in his flowing black robe until he stopped speaking and awaited Luke's response.

  "I will," came Luke's deep, calm voice from beside her.

  Then, it was her turn. After Pére Demongeot had finished speaking, she agreed in a barely audible voice to honor and obey the tall, handsome stranger beside her, a man known as le sauvage.

  To her surprise, Luke slipped a wide gold band on her finger. The ring was set with a large square emerald surrounded by diamonds, and it felt strange on her finger, heavy and binding and unnatural. A moment of pure terror welled up inside her. What in heaven's name was she doing marrying a dangerous, powerful man like Luke Randall?

  When the priest smilingly blessed them as man and wife, Luke gave a mental sigh of relief. He had half expected Bethany to change her mind at the last minute. But, she had gone through with it. Peeto had a mother.

  "Now, the signatures, monsieur and madame," Pére Demongeot murmured, spreading the marriage certificate out on the desktop. Andrew leaned forward to sign his name as the witness, then Luke affixed his own signature at the bottom.

  "Sign your full name, Beth," Luke instructed, handing her the plumed quill.

  "Beth?" he said when she only stared at it. "You'll have to sign. I want everything to be legal and bin
ding."

  Bethany finally took the quill from him, wetting dry lips as humiliation ate into her like acid. She put the sharpened tip just beneath the beautiful flowing lines of Luke's well-educated script, then hastily drew a small x. She lay the quill down quickly and turned away, but not before Luke saw the dark flush of embarrassment that rose to stain her high cheekbones.

  At that moment, a good many things began to make sense to him, and he instantly regretted what he had said earlier that day at the bayou. Can't you read? he had demanded harshly, and it had never even occurred to him that she couldn't. No wonder the sign had meant nothing to her. She would have to learn to read, and to write, as soon as possible. Her spoken English could use some work, too.

  Pére Demongeot took his leave soon afterward. Bethany sat stiffly beside the fireplace in the dining room as Andrew and Luke saw the priest off in his coach. Luke had requested that she partake of the evening meal with them, and although she would have much preferred to join Peeto and Raffy and the frog upstairs, she had no choice, but to agree. Especially, not after hearing Luke's tone when he asked her.

  "Are you ready?" he said a moment later.

  Bethany rose and walked to the place he indicated for her, lifting her skirts as he stood back and held her chair politely until she sat down. She tried desperately to remember how Anne Younger had comported herself in her formal dining room when Bethany had helped serve the Youngers' guests. She looked down at the glittering array of crystal goblets and the fine white china rimmed with navy blue and etched with patterns of gold filigree. Several heavy silver spoons, and as many knives and forks, lay in shiny precision beside her plate, and she realized in one dreadful moment that she was about to show Luke and his brother just how ignorant she was about fine manners. She thought of pleading some horrible illness so she could flee the table, but that would be just too cowardly. Instead, she decided to watch the two men and do exactly what they did.

  Several maids, one of whom Bethany had seen that morning in the kitchen, commenced serving the meal, beginning with some kind of thick soup in silver bowls. Bethany furtively eyed her dining companions. Luke had ignored the first course and was lifting his wineglass instead, but Andrew was watching her. His dark blue eyes twinkled, and he gave her a secret wink as he picked up the biggest of the spoons to show her, then dipped it carefully into Tante Chloe's crayfish gumbo.