by Linda Ladd
Before tears could fall again, she hurried back to her own room and climbed into bed, where she sat cross-legged, staring into the fire. A moment later, she slid her hand beneath the lace-edged, satin pillows to retrieve the love gris-gris Tante Chloe had made for her. She clutched it tightly in her hand, and finally let the tears come. But, they lasted only briefly as her misery slowly turned to anger.
She swung her slim legs over the bed steps, then ran to the hearth. She hurled the charm into the dancing flames. It wasn't working anyway! Luke was gone, and he wasn't coming back, not for months! And there was nothing she could do about it, nothing! For all she knew, he might never come back! He might stay in his beloved mountains forever!
That thought was more than she could bear, and she wept broken heartedly into her palms with utter, devastating hopelessness. Most of all, she hated that her own happiness depended so totally on someone else, on a man like Luke who could abandon her so easily. She wished she could hate him!
Bethany lay prostrate in front of the fire for a long time, sobbing out her loneliness, and felt much better afterward. She had needed a good, long cry. She sat upright on the rug, blowing her nose, then drawing her knees in against her chest and staring dully into the flickering fire.
Thunder continued its sporadic rumbling, the gusting winds banging the shutters and filling her bedchamber with the fresh, wet smell of rain. The steady drumming of raindrops on the stone balcony was soothing somehow, but when a different sound interrupted the dripping, she turned toward the open doors.
Luke stood between the billowing white curtains, framed by the dark, stormy night, his tan buckskins soaked to a darker shade, his black hair plastered against his forehead. In that first instant, Bethany was afraid to believe her own eyes for fear this was yet another one of the dreams that plagued her nights.
Their eyes held. Then, at Luke's first step into the room, Bethany was up and flying into his arms with unabashed joy. She wept with pure happiness as his strong arms closed around her, her cheek against the wet roughness of his shoulder, the manly scent of damp leather filling her senses.
Luke held her for a long time, his eyes shut tight, his emotions torn by the feel of her soft body and silky hair. Then, he lifted her with one arm, bringing her up until his mouth found hers in a long, hungry kiss that left them both breathless and wanting more.
"Every time I closed my eyes, I saw your face," he muttered hoarsely against her soft cheek.
Bethany's arms tightened around his neck. "I love you so much," she said brokenly. "I've missed you so."
After a moment, he released her, turning to close the doors against the storm, and Bethany reached out once again to touch him, still half afraid to close her eyes for fear he would vanish. He smiled tenderly down at her, but Bethany saw the tired lines around his eyes and mouth, and realized he was unbelievably weary.
"You look so tired, Luke. Are you all right?"
"Now, I am."
Bethany felt as if she had died and gone to heaven. An inexplicable rush of tears came unbidden. She held them back, not about to waste her time crying, not with Luke beside her. Her fingers went to the laces of his tunic, pulling them loose.
"You're so wet. You'll get the fever," she whispered. "Come to bed where it's warm. I'll help you."
Luke let her undress him, his eyes feasting on the face that had haunted his days and nights, robbing him of sleep and peace of mind. When at last they lay together between the smooth, clean-smelling sheets, his small, beautiful wife pressed against his side, warm and soft and loving, just the way he had remembered and craved and desired each moment away from her, he stroked the satin-soft skin of her back and hip, breathed in the flowery sweetness of her gilt-edged hair, unable to stop smiling.
"God knows I've missed you," he said, very low. "The day came when I couldn't take another step further away from you."
"Oh, Luke," Bethany murmured, enraptured. His mouth came again, so hungry, yet so softly, gently, and strangely without passion, instead, with a deep, abiding love that transcended the desire of their bodies and fulfilled the most profound need of their hearts.
Bethany lay against him in the purest contentment of her life, leaning her head into his palm as his fingers caressed her silky hair.
"When I lived with the Sioux," he said very softly, his deep voice rough with emotion in a way Bethany had never heard it, "they told me that every man receives a gift from the gods one time in his life. They called it a dreamsong." He paused, holding her tighter. "You're mine, Beth. You're my dreamsong."
Bethany smiled, a new kind of warmth filling her heart with tenderness. She traced his strong, bewhiskered jaw with loving fingers, realizing that her every prayer, every wish and hope and dream, had been fulfilled with his words. It was she who had received the dreamsong Luke spoke of.
They were silent then, holding each other tightly, stroking and touching and enjoying the feel of each other, until Luke's weary muscles began to relax and exhaustion took him in its grasp.
"I love you," he murmured for the first time in his life, and then he slept.
Bethany lay quietly in his arms, listening to the soft sound of his breathing, turning over in her mind each word of love he had uttered, so she could place them forever in a special shrine in her heart and soul.
Much later, when the storm outside had abated to a lazy dripping from the eaves, Bethany reluctantly disentangled herself from Luke's heavy arms and tiptoed to the fireplace where the flames had died to a mere glow of embers. She dug into the ashes with the poker until she found the charred stone that was all that was left of the jade-green amulet, smiling as she wiped it clean with the hem of her gown. She took it back to the bed with her, carefully positioning it beneath her pillow. Satisfied, she cuddled close to her big, handsome husband, pressing her lips softly against his whiskered jaw before she fell into her own deep and contented sleep.
Andrew rode up the long, tree-lined entry road to Cantigny, the thick-boled live oaks dripping Spanish moss high above his head. He smiled as he spied Raffy darting out from between the columns of the river portico to help him with his horse.
"Marster Luke bez back!" were the first words out of the little boy's mouth.
Andrew jerked his head around in shock, and Raffy gave his usual impish, toothless grin, which was nonetheless full of delight. Andrew threw back his head and gave a deep, knowing laugh.
"Poor old Luke. Where the hell is he?"
"In de dinin' parlor. I's bez waden fo' Marster Pete. We's bez gwine crayfish trappin'!"
Andrew dismounted and handed Raffy his reins before he limped up the steps, leaning on his cane, his wide grin still in place. The dining room was deserted except for Peeto, who was piling a good portion of the leftover beignets into a large linen table napkin.
"Still a mite hungry, eh, Pete?" Andrew said with a smile, and Peeto looked around guiltily, relieved that it was only his good-natured Uncle Andy who had caught him stealing food from the table.
"These here are for Raffy. He likes 'em plenty, and Tante Chloe don't let him have any."
"He's outside waiting for you," Andrew told the boy, pulling off his gloves. "He said your father's come back." Andrew watched Peeto carefully, happy to see the pleased look that registered on the boy's face.
"Yes, sir, he came back last night while we was all sleeping, just in time for Christmas! He woke me up real early this morning and took me back to his and Beth's bed. He hadn't ever done that before. He said he wasn't ever going to leave us again!"
Peeto's wide smile warmed Andrew's heart.
"That's wonderful, Pete. I told you he wouldn't stay gone long, didn't I?"
"Yes, sir, and you was right."
Raffy's voice calling for Peeto interrupted their conversation, and Andrew patted the boy's shoulder.
"We're going crawdad hunting," Peeto informed him, edging toward the door. "Luke said we could."
"Just watch out for the gators," Andrew called after him.
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"Yes, sir," Peeto said, tightly clutching his bundle of food. Andrew watched the boy run across the gallery to join his friend. Maybe, Luke was finally going to break down and let himself have a real family after all, he thought.
At the door of the library, Andrew paused, peeking inside just in time to see Luke pull Bethany down on his lap and kiss her in a way that left no doubt of his intentions. Andrew began to feel a little warm in the face as Bethany reacted with an eager display that was nothing less than wanton. Swallowing hard, Andrew stepped back, deciding that Luke was even luckier than he had first thought.
He grinned to himself, making a loud display of stomping down the hall, hurting his splinted leg in the process.
"Luke!" he yelled loudly. "Where are you?"
When he entered the library a moment later, Bethany was standing primly at Luke's side, her face rosy and her bodice buttoned up wrong. Luke looked not a little annoyed at Andrew's intrusion. Andrew couldn't resist an impulse to tease his stony-faced brother.
"What happened, Luke? Get up the trail a ways and realize you forgot something?"
Luke gave him a tight smile. "You could say that," he replied, lifting Bethany's small hand to his lips.
Bethany colored with delicious pleasure, and although Andrew was surprised at Luke's uncharacteristic display of affection, he was just as pleased to see the happiness on Bethany's face. He hadn't seen her smile since Luke's departure. It seemed to him that things between them were going very well, indeed.
"What can we do for you, Andy, that can't wait until tomorrow?" Luke asked bluntly.
Andrew gave a good-humored grin. "I just dropped in to make sure Bethany and Pete were doing all right, but now that you're back, I can deliver Hugh's letter to you."
Luke felt Bethany flinch at the mere mention of Hugh Younger, and he put his arm around her.
"I need to speak to Tante Chloe about supper," she said quickly. Though Luke was reluctant to let her out of his sight, he released her hand and watched her until the door clicked behind her.
Andrew maneuvered his splinted leg carefully in front of him and sank down in a chair. Smiling, he leaned back without speaking as Luke took a narrow cheroot from the silver box on the desktop. Luke lit one for himself, then held it between strong white teeth as he retrieved another for his brother. Andrew took it, still grinning.
"All right, Andy, go ahead and say it. You're dying to."
"Me? What on earth would I have to say to you?"
"I told you so?" Luke suggested.
"Well, I did, and actually you lasted about a week longer than I thought you would. If it makes you feel any better, most men married to a woman like Bethany wouldn't have lasted nearly that long."
"What did Hugh say in his letter?" Luke asked, intentionally changing the subject.
Andrew's smile faded. "I doubt you'll like it. You'd better read it yourself."
Andrew retrieved a single piece of folded parchment from the inside pocket of his tan suede frock coat and handed it across the desk. Luke took it, and Andrew watched his brother's face deepen into a massive frown.
"He's lying when he says he didn't mistreat Pete," Luke said finally. "Bethany wouldn't lie to me."
"He's pretty adamant about it."
"That's because he's afraid I'll give him the thrashing he deserves for abusing my son, and I just might do it."
"According to this, he'll be arriving soon to nullify the warrant. How do you intend to deal with him?"
Luke refolded the paper and laid it aside before he met Andrew's gaze. "I want Beth and Pete to forget it ever happened. We'll have to receive him here, at least until he rescinds the warrant for Beth. I don't want that hanging over her head any longer. After that, he can go back to St. Louis, where Beth and Pete won't have to look at him. Beth cringes every time she hears his name."
"He must have treated them very badly," Andrew remarked, "for both of them to fear him so much. I never would have thought Hugh capable of such cowardly behavior. Anne would be heartbroken if she knew he had abused Pete."
Luke nodded as he stood, not really listening any longer. He stubbed out his cheroot in the ashtray. "Sorry, Andy, but I've been gone a long while, and I intend to find my wife and make up for lost time."
Andrew laughed, but before he could make a teasing remark, Luke was already gone.
Chapter 18
Several days after Christmas, Bethany stood in the spacious brick kitchen of Cantigny, carefully placing a covered basket of honey-glazed chicken into a large wicker picnic hamper. On top of that went several portions of Tante Chloe's spoon bread, still warm from the oven, and a dozen of the crisp apple tarts covered in cinnamon sugar that Peeto liked so much. She secured the lid and handed the hamper over to Peeto, who waited eagerly at her side. Outside, Michelle and Raffy were waiting to accompany them on a fishing trip and picnic on the levee, something Bethany had promised them Christmas morning.
She smiled as she remembered that joyous day when the rooms of Cantigny rang with warmth and love and laughter. It had been the best Christmas she had ever known, and it had been almost sinful the way Luke had showered them all with expensive gifts. She shook her head as she went outside to join the others, who were carrying cane poles and standing beneath the spreading limbs of a pecan tree near the kitchen door.
"I guess we're ready now," she said, but a pleased smile lit her face as she caught sight of Luke coming toward them with his long, pantherish strides.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes lowering to her lips with that hungry look which had not lessened since his return, the erotic invitation never failing to send Bethany's pulse into a race with her heart.
"On a picnic," she answered, breathless, as she thought of the night before in their bed and all the delicious things that had happened there. All of a sudden, she was heartlessly ready to send the children on ahead with Michelle, so she could stay home with her handsome husband.
"And, I wasn't invited?"
Bethany's face registered surprise, then delight.
"But, you've never wanted to go with us before. We just assumed-" she began, then hastily amended for fear he might think himself unwelcome. "Please, come with us! We'd love for you to!"
She smiled, taking his hand to draw him after the others, who had already started down the avenue of oaks. Luke laced his fingers through hers as they strolled under the towering trees toward the river. Bethany felt the most wonderful exhilaration of spirit, and the smile that rarely left her face of late settled into place again.
She looked up at Luke, and on impulse, stopped him, leading him by the hand behind the nearest tree, so she could loop her arms around his strong neck. She pulled his head down to her lips, and he obliged with not a little pleasure, lifting her off the ground, his mouth moving over hers in that slow, caressing way that melted her heart and weakened her knees.
"Maybe we should save this for tonight," Luke murmured into her ear, but he didn't release his tight grip on her, and after another moment of particularly arousing endeavors, he gave a self-mocking grin. "Then again, maybe we shouldn't save it for tonight."
He released her, intending to take her back to the house with him and let the picnic wait, but Peeto's excited shouts from the top of the levee negated that idea.
"Tonight, without a doubt," Bethany whispered, and Luke agreed, with every intention of making it an early evening, just as they had done every evening since his return. He smiled, remembering Beth's deep blush each time they excused themselves to escape upstairs.
By the time they reached the dirt path that wound up to the grassy top of the embankment, they learned the reason for Peeto and Raffy's excitement. A long, cumbersome flatboat was edging its bow slowly toward the landing wharf of Cantigny. Luke and Bethany proceeded down the wooden walkway to where Peeto and the others stood and watched the boat's approach. Luke put one hand on his son's shoulder as he peered toward the man in the bow of the heavily laden craft.
"It's Hug
h," he told Bethany, and was appalled as her face paled to a sickly shade of white, her eyes going wide with fear. She was not the only one affected by Hugh's arrival, for Peeto ran at once to stand protectively in front of her. Luke frowned as the boat bumped against the pilings, and Hugh hailed them.
"Luke! God, I'm glad to finally get here!"
Luke watched his brother-in-law climb out of the flatboat, but as Hugh's boot touched the dock, both Bethany and Peeto stepped backward. Hugh paused when he saw Bethany.
"You lied to Luke," he accused her. "Why?"
Bethany stared at Hugh. In his neat traveling attire and clean-shaven cheeks, he looked different than he had on the last night when his clothes had been rumpled and stained and his whiskered face twisted with cruelty. When she couldn't form an answer, Luke put an arm around her.
"My wife doesn't lie to me," he said in a cold, measured warning.
"Wife?" Hugh repeated dumbly. "You didn't marry her, did you? Good God, why would you do such a thing?"
His appalled questions stopped abruptly as Luke's dangerous gaze bored down on him.
"Insults to my wife are insults to me," he said tightly, but he stopped there as Bethany suddenly bolted from beside him, lifting her skirts and fleeing up the dock toward the house. Peeto followed her at a run.
"I never touched that boy in anger, I swear it, Luke," Hugh said quickly as Luke gazed after his wife and son, a concerned frown drawing his dark brows together.
"Michelle will show you to the house," Luke told him before he turned to follow Bethany's flight.
Upon reaching the house, Luke methodically searched the lower floor for Bethany and Peeto, but it was in his own bedchamber that he found them, huddled together on the bed, crying and clutching each other. His frown deepened, and he shut the door quietly, at a loss to understand the violence of their reaction to Hugh.
"What is it, Beth?" he asked softly, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Bethany looked stricken, her lips trembling until she caught at them with her teeth, and Luke felt an awful premonition rise to chill his spine. Never had he seen her so terrified, not even when she had been chained in the dark cell of the calaboose. Even more strange, Peeto didn't seem nearly as frightened of the uncle who had abused him. Indeed, he was the one who was comforting Bethany.